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frenchphobic · 3 years

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long fucking post on why a c!dream is a shitty person and probably should not have a redemption because it is unpog

honestly i just want to refute dream apologists thats why im making this post. i think that dream as a villain is interesting but i think that trying to make him out to be secretly a good guy is just bad ngl. also /roleplay and all

tw for abuse and mentions of suicide

dream as a villain

dream is a villain. he is chaotic evil according to wilbur, deliberately does not stream to appear less sympathetic (and yet), and is set up as an antagonist to tommy who bears the title ‘hero’. dream is not a good person, no matter how you look at it or try to justify his actions.

‘but he wants to unite everyone to be a big family :((’ the ends dont justify the means believe it or not. having a vaguely positive goal does not excuse the actions you’ve done. it also goes hand and hand with saying dream is correct for punishing tommy the way he did because he acted up. if i socked you across the face and then suddenly said ‘sorry there was a roach on ur face’ does that make it okay? probably not i still punched you, enacting an unnecessary amount of violence. thats a very simple analogy i will admit and there are more complex comparisons. another example off the top of my head is say a child just scribbled all over you walls with crayons. would hitting them be a justified answer? if u said hes thats really fucked of u go seek help u loon. violence as a punishment is very toxic, just because it gets the job done does not mean it is okay. at the end of the day, you still committed this act and the harm you caused is real, having a good motive doesnt suddenly make it okay.

‘but tommy causes all of the conflict’ the disk war wasnt even caused by tommy, it was sapnap and then tommy got involved. and the reason why tommy even caused conflict was because of the discs, because he wanted them back. and most of the time there was a level of antagonism from another party, such as schlatt exiling him, dream taking the disks in the first place, dream threatening l’manberg. and if dream wanted to end the conflict so badly, why didnt he just give tommy back his disks? tommy upfront said everything started with the disks, so he wants them back so he could end the conflict. notice how after tommy got his disks back he has been staying out of conflict, apologizing to everyone, and the only bad thing hes done is try to scam people but everyone does that. this would have been the most peaceful option, yet dream chose the path that would further antagonize tommy which then draws everyone else into conflict. why did dream need to have leverage over tommy so badly? why did he want to hold power over tommy so badly? its because of control, and that’s ultimately dreams end goal. sure he wants a big server family, but would said family have a free will?

‘but dream is sad’ the thing is dream is completely at fault for everything that happened to him. he pushed away sapnap (and george ig). he tried to take control over the server and their possessions. literally everything that happened to tommy. literally everything involving ranboo. villains can be sympathetic, i am not arguing against that. but it does not mean that they should be left off the hook. that doesnt mean u should ignore the shit theyve done because ‘oh no theyre sad’ because it doesnt make anything better. dream had this shit coming for him.

now people also skirt around calling dream an abuser. which is fair ig, its a very loaded word. its much easier to say manipulated. that being said, dream can classify as abusive. and no, tommy is not abusive. abuse is about control and a power imbalance. dream has power over tommy, but tommy does not have power over dream, at least not in the way dream does. he’s taking back power to stand up for himself, dream uses power to control.

the reasons i listed for why dream is from the Domestic Abuse Intervention Project so if u want a source on that, there you go.

using coercion or threats: dream often threatened tommy, such as the pit thing and often employed violence on him. while normally this could be attributed to Normal Minecraft Player Go Smack. minecraft mechanics cannot always translate to real world since violence is pretty normal in minecraft however we also need to consider the context of the scene. dream gave an order, tommy refused, dream applies violence, tommy submitted. thats why its a threat, it has tangible effects that can correlate to real life.

using intimidation: dream blew up logsteadshire as a punishment. dream also destroyed tommys items anytime he visited. dream also hit tommy with his axe i believe. he killed mushroom henry, one of tommys pets.

Using Emotional Abuse: dream guiltripped the shit out of tommy for just hiding things and pinning the blame on tommy for just wanting his own private items. he definitely played mind games on tommy, pretending to be his friend. honestly i probably dont even need to go as in depth because it was so obvious.

Using Isolation: putting him in exile in the first place. destroying the bether portal so no one could visit tommy anymore. i really dont think i need to expand upon that.

Minimizing, Denying, and Blaming: dream in tommys stream when he got trapped said that exile wasnt that bad. he does shift the blame onto tommy for logsteadshire being blown up, even though dreams reaction was entirely unjustified for not listening and hiding.

Using Economic Abuse: see this is where i attempt to parallel minecraft mechanics to real life. obviously, there is no monetary system in place, so when i mean economic, i will use valuables such as armor, food, etc in place of currency. the idea behind economic abuse is to limit the victim’s resources so that they are dependent on the abuser and cannot escape. dream only really allowed tommy to have the armor he gave him while not giving access to armor so he does not regain a sense of power, and in the prison stream, dream holds all the potatoes which puts him in a position of power over tommy. this argument is more ambiguous i feel cause the whole minecraft mechanics thing is kinda weird so u don’t necessarily have to take this part in.

i feel like i need to emphasize this very strongly because dream is not a good person. abuse cannot and should not be a response to someone. its an awful mentality to have. i just want to prove the point that dream is not a good person, his reasons absolutely do not justify his actions.

what makes a good redemption

redemption arcs are tricky. when done right they are great. when done poorly, its a slap in the face. rn im going to establish a formula to what makes a good redemption with an example.

the most well known example of a good redemption is zuko from atla. first, its the magnitude of what theyve done and why. zuko did commit some shitty actions, since he was in a position of power in the fire nation but its because he is a child being abused and wanted to regain honor. zukos real awful acts was season 1 and the whole betrayal thing. thats not to say that zukos actions suddenly are okay, he did shitty things. but its something that can be traced to a higher entity or seem less malicious then the other villains. the thing also about the magnitude of actions is that there is a certain point of atrocities that there is no redemption. some people simply cannot be redeemed because the actions they commit are so ingrained in their character or the action itself has serious moral issues that it would just be wrong.

the next is acknowleding what they did was wrong. a genuine reflection on the self and analyzing what they did and why it was not okay. zuko realized what he did to uncle iroh was bad for example. he turned his back on his father, realizing he didnt and shouldnt seek acknowledgment from someone as heinous as him. its pointing out your actions and going ‘hey, this wasnt right i should not have done this’ and not even excusing ur actions. its also going straight for the root of the problem and figuring out to stamp it from the source. just because a character is sad does not mean they are reflecting, sometimes they are attempting to garner pity. it has to be direct and clear acknowledgement of the injustice.

and finally, an important part about redemption arcs is the actual redemption part. its when you make amends. zuko made amends with katara by trying to help her get revenge, he fought against the fire nation and tried to make things more peaceful in his rule. he apologized to iroh. an important part of the amends section is that it does have to be a genuine desire to change and become a better person, not to change a person’s perception of you. the thing is u cant expect a person youve hurt to forgive you. you cant expect people to be sympathetic towards you nor should u attempt to make urself sympathetic. u shouldnt be expecting a pat on the back or an award. redemption is about internal and character change.

why dream should not be redeemed

ive already established the key points to a good redemption (imo) but heres where dream falls short. his actions are extremely heavy so redemption may not even really be possible. abuse is not something you can wave off so it does cross to the point of fucked up. acknowledgement of what he did was wrong? all he said was that he changed, yet never explained why he changed or was too vague. he needed to label specifically what he did and bring it up. attempting to make amends? he’s been doing the exact opposite in fact he continues to manipulate tommy and ranboo. its not a genuine change. he is still repeating the cycle and has given no indication of ceasing. at the moment he does not have any signs of redemption.

and the thing is most of the attention around a dream redemption comes from either justifying his motives (which i do want to emphasize does not make anything suddenly okay) and because he is sad in prison sad face. these are not good reasons. its gonna pain me severely to bring this up but snape from harry potter does have some form of sad character ig yet he very much abused his authority to bully children as old as 11 just because he said ‘aight gonna die’ doesnt suddenly make his general bigotry and abuse suddenly okay there is a threshold. again im so sorry for using harry potter as an example none were coming to mind and i needed a popular one i do not like harry potter please dont say i do i would pass away.

and the last thing to consider is the audience. keep in mind that the audience is composed of minors and while yes there are adults, minors are the main component of the fandom. keep in mind that there are quite a few people who can relate to tommys character because they might be in the same position or have gone through his experiences. tell me what kind of message does it send to that audience that abusers can be redeemed. this is not a narrative u should push to this audience in these situations and the writers are seemingly aware of it. remember how in exile tommy spiraled into a suicidal mentality? consider how fucked of a message it would be if he just committed suicide instead of escaping abuse and attempting to recover from his experiences. tommy did an excellent job in not going that route and having a message of ‘it will not get better’. its the same thing here. victims are not obligated to care for or forgive their abuser, and portraying an abuser as sympathetic might fuck with the message a lot, even change their perception in that ‘oh, maybe my abuser was right, maybe they had a reason for treating me the way they did’. this is not to say that every victim watching this will internalize this message, but people also look up to these characters. there can be a degree of influence from the story onto oneself and thats the dangerous part.

conclusion

all in all dream is a shitbag asshole and probably shouldnt get a redemption because it would not be pog thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#dream smp #dsmp #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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i want to ask for help. but i cant tell when would be a good time. because u've said before that therapy doesnt work unless YOU want it to, and i dont know WHEN i will want to. i just know that ive been feeling like this for as long as i can remember and that if i dont do SOMETHING about it, i might not even live.

i feel like im scared to ask for help because what if? what if i actually do better? i cant imagine living without thinking about dying every second. there is a scary sense of comfort in it, but its familiar and its me but its ME and i dont want it like that.

i,,, i dont know why this is going to you, but i do know i admire your opinions and i guess i just want to know. when. when does it get better.

When... hmm, as Yoongi has said before, these kinds of feelings are like seasons. I don't personally think they ever "go away" - you have good times and bad times, sometimes with reason, sometimes for no reason at all. At least, that's how it is with me. Going to put the rest under a break.

"Get better" is a vague term. You can argue you're already "getting better" because you recognize something needs to change, but that doesn't really feel statisfying because you're still in the same mental state, right? Then, is "getting better" a generalized state of more happiness? Could be. But, if you've always been in the darkness, well, shit, how are you supposed to know the light is the light? You've never seen it before. Then, does "getting better" mean... being like everyone else around me that seems like they're "good"?

That's the greatest lie of all.

I've said therapy doesn't work unless you want it to, not because you need to feel a certain measure of desire to change, but because you can't walk in there thinking the therapist is going to change you. If you have the means to try, you should to to therapy and just try it, because knowing you need to do something indicates that you already want to change. Reaching out to someone, stranger or not, already indicates you don't want to be like this forever. It might work, it might not. Therapy really depends on the therapist and finding a good fit is very difficult.

I'm going to tell you a bit about my journey. I have no idea if it will help you, but maybe you're interested.

I grew up not knowing love. My parents had an arranged marriage and, in their case, they did not love each other. Probably still don't. They're still married. I guess they tolerate each other, I don't know. In any case, it was very dysfunctional. I didn't know anything about maintaining healthy relationships, showing affection, or the value of people. I was seen as a means to an end, not really as their child. It was mostly my mom, but my dad was neglectful and wasn't really part of my life even though he was there the entire time. Because of this, I didn't value myself. I became very depressed and, if you've read my work, there's hints of what I've done to myself. I thought about dying. A lot. All the time. Planned it, dreamed it, wished for it.

Then, I moved out and entered the next phase of my life. Made a shit ton of mistakes. Destroyed friendships, had a ton of questionable relationships, chased love that was never there, fell apart. I was an "adult" but I was still the same - still wanted off this fucking Earth. But there was a difference. This time, I finally realized something.

These had be been my desicions.

My choices put me in that position. Nobody made me do anything. I was being self-destructive because I wanted to. And just like how I put myself there, I could take myself out.

So I did.

Not easily, mind you, but I did. I switched my surroundings again, put myself among people who had my best interests in mind, found my close friends, had a great time. Did shit everyone else did, went on cute dates, hung out with friends, traveled a lot, took pictures of delicious food, had an Instagram life.

Hated it.

I wasn't myself. I had pushed down my past and pretended like that shit wasn't real. I had a good life, so I'm good, right? I'm cured! I have what everyone else wants - I do what I want, have a good job and loving people around me. Yeah, no. I was "better", but I wasn't better. Far from it. I used to draw, write, create. In this phase I did none of that. I felt empty. But I was happy! Shit, what else can I do?

And then I discovered BTS.

Music does a lot of things. In my life, they defined the phases of my life. Rock and metal saved me from ending it when I was stuck in the darkness. In the time of empty happiness, I listened to music, but nothing stuck. I did, however, broaden my horizons and listen to everything, finally learning that all music has its merits and that I could find something I liked in nearly every genre.

However, I wasn't committing to anything, and that was because I couldn't commit to myself.

At first when I listened to BTS, I thought they were really cool. I went from era to era, mostly listening to title songs. Then I was bored and listened to their other stuff. I was curious about the lyrics I liked. They were usually rapped by this one guy, and I learned to recognize his voice and wait for his parts, because they always ended up being my favorite.

Yeah, just guess who it is. :)

I thought, well shit, I have no idea what he's saying. I should look it up. Went to look up the lyric translations of their songs, finding SUGA's parts and yet another epiphany.

Why am I pretending?

I'm reading these lyrics and I'm like, shit. This is it. This is me. These are all thoughts I've thought and they're here. They're real. Someone else thought them in the same way I have. And I am, indeed, still feeling these things, but pretending I'm not. Pretending it's impossible to acknowledge the person I am, that teenager wondering why I have to live when I could just fucking not, and who I've become, an adult with no sense of self but happy, and how they somehow can't coexist even though they already do. They're all me.

It wasn't very fun facing those feelings again, but I did it because I needed it. I needed to work through them and stop pretending so I could be myself. And now I am, because I can see it. You can see it. I create, not for anyone, but because this is me.

Maybe a little hypersexual. Kind of insane. Borderline cocky (but I am hot though, I'm just saying). I write, I draw, I create, I have fun, I cry, fuck, I do it all (swallow dick real fucking well too!). I do everything I want to and live how I want to.

This is just one way, one life among billions. You might not go though this (technically, you're already on the BTS phase, you know) and most likely your journey will be different. Because "getting better" is a personal thing. It is what you want in life, who you want to be, and I didn't know who I wanted to be until I lived though all kinds of shit, learning about other people's lives, and found someone who let me know, hey, you can brush past or you can soak into a heart. Change will always happen. You can live however you like. In some ways, you grow up and become an adult. In some ways, you stay the same, always young, always learning, always growing up. Sometimes people give up their young self because they think they have to. And maybe they do. You don't really have to though. You only have to be open to the idea there is also comfort in other things, that the you that you've known all your life is not the only you that will be.

To live a full life is to have many things, not physically, but mentally - memories, thoughts, past, present, whatever you want to hold on to, hold on to. No one can take them away from you. You will become more than just that. Every day, you will wake up to a new self that encompasses all your other selves before that. If you're impatient and want it now, run. Read up on things, surround yourself with all kinds of people, try activities you've always wanted to try, experience shit and find out what you like, what you hate, what you can modify to suit you better.

Find out what it means for you to get better and you'll discover, hey.

You're already there.

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floralkittygambler · 3 years

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RadioDust is the Healthiest Toxic Ship for Angel so far

@honesthazbinarchives Briefly. I’d like to go into this more in the future BUT these are the main points I said I’d do. Heh ‘stay tuned’ for why HuskerDust is toxic [haaaa funny fuckin reference n shit like Viv herself aint overdone it]. Yer dont even wanna know the lack of enthusiasm in tryna do a playful ‘cringetopia’ joke - wasnt as fun as anticipated. Anyfuckinways, the shit. Before we begin, disclaimers n whatnot, no hate intended, dni if you’re a bit of a knobhead [either stan or extreme anti], an all that nonsense. I dont own the characters no shit. In this I’ll discuss how RadioDust aka SpiDEER (thats right, yer stuck w my shit humour now) is both the healthiest ship for Angel we’ve seen so far but still rather toxic. Idc if you hate me for it but dont fuckin waste yer time telling me. Great. I dont care. Yer fuckin hard n whatnot for harassin strangers online. Big dick energy to you. This will be slightly messy, my apologies, it’s a quick summary of many points.

Alright. Firstly, out of the entire male cast Angel interacts with over all platforms, Al is given a fair bit of mercy in terms of sexual advances. In fact, a swift ‘no’ and Angel doesn’t do it again - unlike most of the other cast [pent’s is covert, husks is overt]. One thing I like is that Angel himself admits to their chemistry (claiming that whilst he thinks Al’s a prick, he thinks Al dislikes him which saddens him as he’d at least like to be friends as he feels they have good chemistry - according to the VA via Hunicast’s 1yr anniversary), there’s no further efforts to jump on his dick but a clear curiosity/interest in what Al can do. Lets go to the basics, both are of similar age [allegedly in their 30s, though Ive heard Al may be up to mid 40s] as well as created near the same-ISH time (as in, Viv’s oldest characters, at least for HH). Likewise, Viv admitted to knowing fuck all on either of their eras (and to make that public wasn’t really a wise choice BUUUT if you felt the need, it’s better worded with interest “Right now I’m working towards educating myself more on their time periods to improve their portrayals” <-- crucial if yer want that ‘realism’). Because of their real-world ages, Viv confesses they’re her favourites (even if you didnt know, she makes it pretty clear). It could be a nice ‘homage’ to their impact in her life but not too relevant otherwise. It could fulfil the need for self indulgence that she’s unhealthily leaking into the canon - which will ultimately make the series shit. No sugarcoating there. As for their ages, a relationship can work whether the gap is large or small HOWEVER there are many ethics and conflicts to each. And being an adult into kids is always fucked up. With that being said, studies have shown that closer ages often work better due to the often similarities in mindset, maturity and life goals (older folks are more likely to want to settle, younger often have more ambitions), likewise there tends to be an unbalanced power-dynamic if the ages are too far, which can lead to various types of abuse. Dont get me wrong, being with someone much older (AS LONG AS NONE OF YALL ARE KIDS) very much CAN work - but rarely. There’s much more hardwork needed as well as being in the right mindset for both, otherwise it’s bad. More on that in HD. Long story short, both are closer in age meaning both are more ‘relatable’ to one another. There’s common grounds, even in the eras there’s some higher understanding of one another. Notice how Vaggie and Charlie are similar in age? (Even though Charlie is far older, her appearance and mentality for her race is on par with Vaggie’s, making it far more likely to work out positively) One of the most prominent out of all of this however is their actual interests. So listing; Both like action/chaos/having fun (often at the expense of others), both love cooking and can be food snobs in their own right, both have sadistic AND masochistic tendencies, Al likes performance and theatre whilst Angel loves *to* perform, on that last point Angel was very intrigued and enjoyed Al’s song number/performance naturally, both really enjoy pranks and both enjoy liquor (neither show an actual addiction, but rather an interest in social drinking - no dependencies on it). Again, close eras mean both have a higher probability of understanding the other and their lifestyles better. Both are high on appearance and love themselves, implying self confident mindset (healthy BUT the narcissism isnt) yet enough consideration for how they are viewed. On the parent system, one adores his mama whilst the other hates his pops. Now Ive gone on about how they’re similar. But similarities ALONE is not enough. If it was, then fandom’s would be a lil more harmonious~ A HEALTHY relationship needs compatibility, POSITIVE conversation flow, common grounds, trust, openness and understanding. Even then, some people click and some just dont. It’s like how you can just hate someone for no reason. It just IS. Common grounds and similarity is scientifically proven to be attractive to someone - be it good or BAD. People are drawn to those like their parents in some way usually, likewise we look for people similar to ourselves (from our interests, to humour, beliefs, goals, etc). Science itself states that ‘opposites attract’ solemnly applies in the real world successfully. Though similiarity plays a large role, there has to be some differences too - that person is STILL an individual separate to yourself. Too similar and it’s boring. Too similar and you’ll do everything together without some ‘you’ time. Both Vaggie and Charlie have similar interests/hobbies in dance and music, yet still have enough differences to be identifiable when together. Vaggie is more grounded than Charlie. Charlie gives some optimism and fun to Vaggie. Remember, a partner does NOT complete you - that’s a toxic mindset when taken too seriously, You complete YOURSELF. Whether you have someone or not, you must feel complete in yourself as to not slip into toxic dependency on a lover - to become them, a shadow of them or feel like you’ve lost your identity without them. Sounds harsh but it’s true. Chaggie compliments each other without a dependency. You stand alone yet uplift one another. You don’t always agree but in the end you always have each other’s backs. Love is often butchered in a toxic light in the media. So taking that into consideration, how does spideer work? Well, here’s some examples of good, bad and neutral: - Angel loves animals, Al fears/dislikes dogs. Perhaps Angel could assist him in overcoming this? - Al hates being touched, Angel dislikes being squeezed. Maybe this could help them reach an understanding... Or cause a rift? - Angel was the only one to break Al’s composure, either Angel is the *key* to delving further into Al’s more raw self... Or just another obVOXious pest? (yeah, I said it-) - Neither respect other’s boundaries, meaning both may fuel the other to be overly disrespectful in this area. Not good. - Angel is a sarky/sarcastic fuck, Al loves dry humour. Both seek amusement and chaos. In relationships one needs to see how conversation flows and in the hunicasts, both keep up some good as well as toxic banter. Both could roast the fuck out of an opponent however. - Al is acro/ace, Angel is hypersexual (appears like a sex addict - now I say this as his book has a crossed out ‘fun stuff’ with ‘work shit’ written on it. He’s always fixed on sex from his job to his humour), this could either aid Angel ease up on the sex stuff OR make him overly push it onto Al causing major rifts and discomfort (aces can have sex, ref to ace posts that real asexuals put to understand more but no one wants to be forced into sex is the point here). And we’ve already discussed their lack of respect for boundaries. The positive is that maybe this will make Angel understand how Val is rubbing off on his own behaviour towards men [again, more on that in the HD post]. - Both similar yet different in a way that does suit their compatibility chances but that doesnt mean they will click, it just improves the odds. - Both have similar enemies in Val and Vox, they’re on common terms. Likewise, Al is against the ‘sexual deviance’ of hell meaning he may be oddly supportive and protective of Angel in terms of Val. I dont even think his sadism will override this either. - Al dislikes modern tech, Angel seems to use it as his job requires it. A nice little menial difference. - Only ONE is an addict. Take it from an expert, you NEVER put two addicts together. They’re very vulnerable and prone to slipping deeper into their addictions as well as depending on each other too much that they essentially become very clingy, suffocating and toxic to each other. Seen it in action, it’s ugly. - Both could have a lot of fun and calm moments with each other. - He isn’t immediately smitten with Al but immediately shows a natural interest in Al’s powers and performance, embracing it openly. Leads for a good friendship turned lovers plot. - In Viv’s patreon, she confirmed Angel loves confident guys [sounds exactly like Al] We need to think about where both are mentally. What benefits would a relationship give both? How would they be good and bad for each other? For Al, aside from his outdated views and being a fucking murderer and narcissist, he actually seems in a good mindspace for a relationship IF he opted to be in one. Angel however has a very immature mindset, likewise is in a phase of life where hes bed hopping. IF he were to be in a relationship, I’d say he needs a male equivalent of Cherri - someone with a similar mindset yet some differences, willing to have fun and in touch with their younger side, down to cuddle, open to share and receive love as well as not afraid to publicly be affectionate with him, someone who sees him as more than just for sex, someone fun, someone who’ll let him embrace his cutesy side publicly without shame - Cherri is younger so maybe someone who’s his age or slightly younger perhaps? I think Angel’s not retirement home ready to settle and needs someone on his level that can cuddle and chill as well as feels free and youthful enough to go wild with him. In one sense, he’s got a teen girl sorta mindset (dont put him with a teen though, it’s fuckin weird-). He needs someone positive and raw, someone to let him be himself as well as someone comfortable to be themselves around him. He has a habit of latching onto unobtainable men (in psychology, this is self sabotaging subconsciously): Travis the client, Val a pimp, Husk (emotionally unavailable and needs HEAVY self work - interestingly far more than Angel - plus he’s still onto his last relationship and an addict to gambling and alcohol), Pent who’s the enemy he was currently fighting (inappropriate timing), Alastor who’s not interested in another but his own needs [selfish, VERY bad for a relationship]. Subconsciously he’s self sabotaging on purpose. There’s many psychology books as well as sources online for this, if you’re interested. Either way, Angel is drawn to men either like his father [who dislike him, shun him, or are otherwise cold, abusive or just blatantly dislike or otherwise dont care about him] or anyone with money to fuel his drug addiction/’debt’ to Val. Going with any of these men isn’t a good idea. Preferably, Angel needs someone who he doesnt immediately crush and obsess over. Someone who he doesnt sexually harass or assault. Someone he can build a connection with quickly that can bud into romance (think how Chaggie started as a friendship which clicked immediately). Maybe even someone he doesn’t expect to fall for but does so anyways. It would be more realistic as Viv wants as well as more healthy. That for once he isnt sex or money craved instantly, thus doesnt sexually harass/assault and is given a proper chance to develop and grow a friendship and love. Someone who isnt an addict. Someone with an on-par mindset where they click. Someone open to love. For any chance of a good relationship, Angel needs to be with anyone BUT who we’ve already seen. There’s too much toxicity that’ll be swept under the rug and justified otherwise. Too much shit to fuel homophobes in terms of gay stereotypes. Even though Ive focused a fair bit on Angel, it’s NOT just about Angel. That’s something fans forget. Some he depends on or someone who depends on him in the long term wont last and will be very dangerous to both. Just because you suffer, you dont then deserve to be rewarded with ‘something nice’. You dont get to have everything youve ever wanted. Giving him any of these blokes [minus Val] gives him a pass. Gives him what he wants. I get Viv loves him but life doesnt work that way. True lasting growth comes from learning that. Acceptance and growth. You dont get everything you want and sometimes thats a GOOD thing. He’s not a spoilt kid who gets everything he asks for, he’s YOUR creation. If you really wanted what your creations deserve then you need to research and be realistic with it. Because hes starting to feel like a shitty Gary-Stu at this rate. I live with an ‘Angel Dust’ like person. It used to feel like life gave her everything and most times it did. Everyone loved her and she could get away with murder if she wanted to. But now she’s had to struggle and grow, let go of some ‘wants’ because they werent good for her and she’s becoming better for it. She has a long way but she’s more humble for it now [still got self confidence but it’s less narcissism now, which is more healthy for her]. Also, they make the word anal lol

#stans and antis dni #pros and cons to radiodust #spideer #anti hazbin #viv needs to actually research #vivs been in toxic relationships so she should know better and how these come across #wait until anti huskerdust #ill really be fuckin loathed then #anyways #enjoy?

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regrettablewritings · 4 years

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I, u, y for bodhi rook please!

As the words process in my mind, a tear rolls upon my cheek . . .

Could it be? I dare wonder. An lo: It is.

He has returned, after so far away in time . . .

I = Impression (What was their first impression?):

Well, he certainly wasn’t what you had expected, that was for sure. Defecting from the Empire was no easy feat, even for somebody as unassuming as a delivery pilot. To the enemy, every literal body counted — even if only to assure complete dominance over the individual. So when you had learned that one of their own had not only detected, but potentially played key in helping to locate Galen Erso?

You couldn’t help it: Your imagination went wild. You imagined someone big and strong, teeth gritting from years of pent up anger towards the unjust causes of the tyranny spreading across the galaxy.

What you got was a scrawny, sheepish, possibly traumatized (thanks, Saw, you absolute nerf-herder) slip of a man who seemed to be afraid of taking up any space he happened to exist in. It was...disappointing to say the least. But you had to commend him regardless for defecting and even surviving Saw, and there was no gain in looking down on him.

And then came the Scarif mission.

Nobody had expected him to go -- well, nobody was excpected to go, given that the Alliance Council turned down Erso’s idea, but least of all you expected him to be willing to go and do it. You expected the blind guy to go sailing off to a certified death mission before you did this guy! And honestly, that had you worried for him. Unfulfilled expectations or not, he wasn’t someone who had incurred your ire or even your indifference; you may not have gotten the chance to actually know him beyond a few words exchanged during the very brief time he’d been on base (“Welcome to the right side.” “Uh, y-yes . . . Thank you . . .”), but he certainly didn’t strike you as someone who needed to go on this type of outing. Enough people died unnecessarily in this damned war . . .

To learn, eventually, that he wasn’t one of them was therefore all the more shocking to you.

While the mission to steal the Death Star blueprints had been successful, it clearly didn’t come easy. Everyone who had survived had been wounded to some degree, with Captain Andor appearing to receive the worst of it as he was carted off to the infirmary. Bodhi, to your relief, wasn’t especially harmed. Roughed up, certainly, and clearly shaken from the experience, but that didn’t change what you now knew for certain: Bodhi Rook, this timid bean pole of a defector, was one of the bravest men you had the pleasure of knowing existed.

Even though he apparently was intimidated by you when you two first met. Granted, everyone intimidated him: He had just went AWOL with the government he’d been employed by, he was “taken in” by people whom he’d been taught by propaganda to fear and be distrustful in, he was still trying to regain his frazzled sanity after being interrogated by that . . . that thing, and he’d just witnessed his home get bombed. Needless to say, the anxious-by-nature man was simply not in an especially welcoming mood.

Still, he tried to be civilized (maybe because he feared getting beat up if he didn’t). He wasn’t sure what to say in response to your, er, “greeting” when you hustled up war-battered clothes besides an awkward thank you. He really wasn’t sure what to make of you that would separate you from his overall feelings towards nearly everyone in this whole operation: You were strong, you had been through enough and were surely hardened by it, and you could probably snap his spine over your knew if you particularly cared to.

Of course, he’d spent next to no time with you when he thought these things of everyone involved in the Rebellion. He had no time to: He had to fly around the Maker’s galaxy and back! It actually wasn’t until after the Scarif mission that he was given ample time to readily wipe his impressions and assumptions clean. He felt he needed to, given what dedication he’d seen on those beaches.

Besides, you approaching him afterward certainly helped. You picked up that he wasn’t fond of crowds during evening mess when he quietly slinked away from the group gathering to hear retellings of the infiltration on Scarif. You figured perhaps a one-on-one situation might’ve sufficed. Better yet, inquiring about his current state might’ve been preferable to reliving the experience.

He appreciated the gesture on your part. Maybe . . . you weren’t nearly as ice-cold as he’d thought you were. At the very least, definitely not as bad as Cassian.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?):

Bodhi is a naturally anxious person, and the hardships and experiences he’s encountered haven’t exactly made that any better. Sure, he’s a lot braver now and more willing to act, but he’s still nowhere near as gung-ho or fiery as his companions.

He’s had some methods in the past that clearly didn’t work out in his favor (fun fact: he’s got a record for gambling), but one of the best tried and trues is simply going somewhere quiet. His thoughts are in a constant buzz, he benefits from a lack of outside stimuli when he feels overwhelmed. The problem is . . . quiet is so very hard to find when you’re in the middle of a war. As an Imperial cargo pilot, you could just plain forget about the idea of having time to yourself: You belong to the Empire, your time is the Empire’s time and you are in no position to use it up.

Being a part of the Rebellion is better by legions, but the base on Yavin IV leaves much to be desired in terms of privacy and quiet. Luckily, the planet is lush and forested: If Bodhi is on base and feels the need to sit in the quiet and gather his thoughts and calm down, he need only walk in any given direction, find a tree to sit under, and just stay there for a while. The places he chooses are far enough to where he can relax and not have his thoughts and heartbeat disturbed by the banging of machinery or the hollers of drill sergeants, but never so far as to be unable to get help should he need it.

It wasn’t long before he began to incorporate you into these relaxation methods, however. As it turns out, as much as he may enjoy being able to sit by himself in the brush, he very much likes being able to sit with you anywhere. You’re almost like a walking calming center for him, especially when you touch him: Hold his hand, rub his back, let him lay his head on your lap so you can play with his hair . . . It’s like a missing link he never knew he’d been missing to begin with! They’re seemingly small things, but they make a big difference. You can always feel him losing his tension beneath your touch, often announced by quiet sighs or tiny shudders. It’s truly the cutest thing and you’re so glad to be the cause of it and help him calm down. Just not nearly as glad as he is to have you there to calm him.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?):

The thought of marriage has switched on and off throughout Bodhi’s life; really, it depends on the exact moment. As a child, he certainly thought about it more, if only because children are want to do such things. But as an adult, it begins to falter. By the time the events of the story show up, he can go long stretches without even once thinking about his stance on whether or not he should get married. Because really, it’s more based on the exact moment: If he’s in a surprisingly good way or even in a moment where he must think about how short life can be, the certainly he gives it some thought.

But in his usual misery and anxiety while serving the Empire, such silly concerns are the furthest thing from his mind; they’re so far on the back burner that they may as well have fallen behind the stove, forgotten, dusty, and moldy!

Even when he meets you, the thought surprisingly doesn’t come up for a while. It’s not that you don’t make him happy or inspire any intention of long-term romance -- far from it, actually! You make him feel the happiest and most comfortable than he’s felt in literal years! In fact, that’s honestly probably why the subject of marriage doesn’t pop up to him so immediately: His life as of late has become a bit of a balancing act, what with him now being a part of a rebellion he hadn’t planned on joining and, consequentially, trying not to get him or his new comrades killed. Normally, this sort of thing would’ve sent him into a panic-induced coma. But with you present in his life, giving him a sense of calm and someone to fight hard enough to come back to, you actually make him start to enjoy the present. (Well, the calmer ones, at least.)

He’s not as caught up about the past or afraid of the future as he used to be; he’s actually enjoying the moment with you as is. Sure, every now and again, if he does (or doesn’t) mean to think about it, his mind does slip and he finds himself thinking, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind being with them after all this . . .” He even dares to dream about the two of you sharing a life together on a nice, simple planet with lots of trees and greenery. Maybe somewhere quiet. A farm might be nice: He can so some gardening there and you two can build a house together, all big and roomy like you’d always wanted instead of cramped and stuffy like the living quarters you always complained about . . .

But then his attention would be dragged elsewhere (to a meeting, to training, to you calling him to join you for dinner). He doesn’t mind. He’s not brushing aside the possibilities of proposing to you and marrying you, but the dreams can wait: All in all, you’re here right now and he’s perfectly content being there with you. For now.

Thank you for asking and for being patient!

#bodhi rook x reader #bodhi rook #bodhi x reader #rogue one x reader #rogue one imagines #rogue one imagine #fluff alphabet #fluff headcanons #regrettablewritings

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kendrixtermina · 4 years

Text

Something that I really love about 3H, and which is probably hard to do with an art form other than video games, is how it shows us all these characters in a context of multiple perspectives and possibilities.

Part 1 is mostly the same but we see what each of the house leaders was individually doing, thinking and feeling during it.

Then in part 2, some characters can theoretically end up in all four factions, and we get various different outcomes for how the house leaders might have ended up, how they would have acted under different circumstances etc.

Some have called that wishy-washy and undefined, but I see it as one of my very favorite things about this game and the writing.

In our modern ideology-centric society but in the end all of our actions and beliefs, even our feelings, are ultimately based on who influenced us, what we know, and what our own choices are. You support the things you support because a) you believe they will lead to certain results and b) you believe those results are good.

If you say that your correct ideology is simply obvious everyone who doesn’t see it is malicious and you would always choose it no matter the influence, that you could be no other way than you are now because obviously the current way is the only “right” then you simply don’t know what’s influencing you and are blind to your potential for being wrong. It’s not something that jives well with our pride that we could be influential or wrong, or that if we’re right it’s in part by chance, but if we don’t admit the possibility (and with it, the existence of gray zones for all that we can all think of objectively bad things) how do we check ourselves for it?

I wouldn’t go so far as to go with the popular notion in esoterics that people don’t have an inherent nature and that it’s all an illusory ego, but that inner nature and the inner principles that build on it exists in interaction with knowledge of cause and effect, and the available environments.

In other words: We learn a lot of in-depht stuff about all these characters by showing how they would react in certain circumstances.

What differs between the routes is who the characters get close with, and what they know, both about the setting, and about the intentions of their characters.

The same basic traits and attitudes can interact in different ways with different fact patters.

That many (though certainly not all!) ppl would agree with Edelgard if she went and explained her plan doesn’t mean the characters are wishy washy, it tells us something about Edelgard and her plan. All these characters have reasons to be against the status quo. It also shows of course that Edelgard failed to communicate this and hurt her credibility with her shady alliance of convenience. She is not really in cahoots with them, but looking like she is is a real political drawback of her decisions.

Another good example is Ferdinand and Dimitri. In three routes out of four Ferdinand thinks Dimitri is a useless leader. But if you recruit him to azure moon Ferdinand actually really gets on the Dimitri bandwagon really hard later on. They actually have pretty similar ideologies as ‘noble traditionalists’, they want to keep the order of society but also they want the institutions to be run properly for the benefit of the people. Out of the leaders, Dimitri actually the closest match to Ferdinand’s own beliefs, but on the other routes, he’s too lost in his reactive emotions to have an ideology. But IF Dimitri got a chance to work on his flaws - bam. Everything is different.

You can get Felix and Sylvain both on the kingdom side, both on the empire side, or of different sides both ways around, and ive seen plenty of fanfic of all those scenarios because they’re all so juicy (Actually even “one of them stays with the church or the alliance and the other dies at Gronder” is juicy though less dramatic)

Another interesting thing is how the religious characters react to the church corruption and how they all do so in different ways. Only Lysithea actually renounces the Sothis religion, Manuela, Mercedes and Marianne all reconcile the contradiction between the corrupt church and their belief in a good deity. We’re given no details on the decision processes Ferdinand, Ignatz or Leonie but presumably they’re also still believers, they’re all tolerant and believe in the value of dissentic opinion tho.

Of course this potential isn’t quite tapped to the fullest a lot of the dialogue repeats or doesn’t differ as much, but there’s only so much material they could ut in there, the routes are samey at some points etc. but that doesnt detract from how cool the basic concept is.

We essentially get 4 to 7 outcomes for each character, each route, and then differing on whether they were recruited or stayed with their original faction.

The amount of difference is itself indicative - Some are more a less samey, others difference between some routes (Marianne and Lorenz notably have more change as characters on the ‘revolutionary’ routes (CF and VW), Bernie ends up more brave if she stays with the Empire, Byleth gets to choose where to live and work in CF/ ends up in different places depending on their chosen spouse, Felix is wildly different between routes, if he stays with the kingdom he eventually follows in his fathers footsteps, otherwise he follows his Lonewolf warrior inclinations, Catherine stays guarding Rhea forever if she lives but starts her own life of atonement and heroism if she dies etc. )

Whereas a lot of the characters who were never that interested in politics or that attached to their home countries essentially have the same endings if they live.

Look for example at Ferdinand who outright gets this dialogue about “I wonder what would have become of me if things had been different”, but actually he always becomes a politician in nearly all his endings - Even when he sides against the empire and temporarily loses his territoty. But of course he does! Because he always had a positive attitude that pushed him to make the best of any situation, and tried hard to prove himself worthy. So even if he doesn’t get everything handed to him he proves capable of actually earning it.

The one ending where he ends up a house husband instead is the one where his wife becomes the politician. XD

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem: three houses #three houses

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bulletproofscales · 5 years

Note

Is there a chance we could get a really gassy Jungkookie w any member? Like, Jungkook was so stuffed and was drinking soda and couldn’t stop burping? Love your blog❤️❤️

--SOO,, u mentioned anymember so i took the liberty of making this a hOPEKOOK FIC!! Ive really wanted to write somethign about them and experiment with their amazing dynamic. It was so HARD!! i tried to balance them exploring their relationship and feelings for eachothr (since its such an uncommon ship) whilst trying to stay on track with your reuqest... I really hope you enjoy it!!--

---

By how fun the director had made the commercial sound, this Coca Cola promotion was truly: a drag. Of course, no promotion could be entirely fun, Jungkook likes to keep it professional; so he never once complained, and tried to be as collaborative as everyone else was. Besides, it wasn't all bad, look at all the free soda they were giving them! Ok. Perhaps Jungkook was drowning his boredom in Coke. But, he didn't notice until he felt a strain of discomfort.

He tried to maintain a straight face as best as he could, they were still in the middle of the recording. In his mind trying to remember how he got into this state in the first place. It slowly came to him, the unconscious need to have a bottle in hand during the whole pre-recording, make-up, and rehearsal. Trying to keep count he stood in disbelief when he remembered his tenth Coca Cola. In fact, he could still perfectly remember the feeling. His stomach getting harder by the bottle, but i'm only being automatically motivated to more. He peeked down discreetly and there it was: his taun stomach pressing firmly against the white t-shirt they had dressed him in. Just the thought of how careless he had been about his surroundings, made the boy blush a deep shade of crimson. Luckily enough, all his hyungs were much more professional than him and were way too concentrated on what was going on in the recording to notice, this time...or, any of the... other times.

If he had to come clean, Jungkook had sometimes had the habit of, overdoing it; whatever it was. He never really understood the reason behind this actitudes; thought to himself he had the courage to acknowledge: he liked the way fullness felt. It felt safe, warm and fun. And as mysterious as its reasoning was, or the vagueness behind what it was that he liked, reall; the maknae still knew nobody had to find out about this. If it was so confusing to he himself, he couldn't imagine trying to explain it to someone else. However it was so consuming, so inviting; he couldn't bring himself to stop. He figured if done every once in a while in the privacy of his locked door, nothing bad would come from it.

But this was certainly not the place. All this time he'd been spacing out the director was giving corrections for the next shot; which was by far the most fun out the bunch. For Jungkook's bloated stomach though, it was going to be only insufferable pain. Of course, he already knew what he had to do; even with his incautious behavior now, he had studied the scene before even coming into set. That made him dread this scene even more; he could barely walk without having his midsection send a wave of pain coursing through his entire body, let alone jumping excitedly into a pool. He put himself in his position, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and prepared himself for the discomfort he was about to feel.

"Everybody! Take five!" HIs eyes snapped open and look like they were about to fall of his skull. He took no time bothering in explaining anybody why he pathetically waddled or attempted to run to the toilet.

When he finally got there, he noticed it was a one person only bathroom, which in a way brought him some sense of comfort. Knowing nobody else would be there. He knocked almost excitedly on the door, just to check before locking himself in. Promptly sitting on toilet, JUngkook couldn't help the relaxed sigh that escaped his lips. He peaked down like he had done back in the recording, fearful of what he might find at the bottom; with anticipating undertones. Except this time, he could keep staring in awe.

His stomach has ballooned enormously, to the point where the waistband of his swimming trunks were interfering with his hardened dome. With slightly shaking hands he reached for said wasteland, and began pushing it down slowly; mesmerized by the continuously skin being exposed. Flesh taunt with gas, pushing outwards like he had swollen a melon. Once they were all the way down to his crotch, Jungkook was still struck with his own body. The way the enormous amounts of liquids had been able to fade away almost every sign of muscle that was there not too long ago. Or the way his stomach now was big enough to cover some of the view of his lap. HIs large hands left their resting place on his muscular thighs and grazed above the hardened flesh tentatively. Slowly, they descend until placed on top of the bloated midsection. Without any force, Jungkook began moving his hands around the dome with care. Not pushing enough to press the gas ou, but he didn't want that; he wanted to stay like this for as long as he possibly could. His eyes still strained to the exposed skin he stayed there caressing himself for what felt like an eternity. Nothing mattered now, not the recording, not the five minute break. This moment was only for himself- There someone banging on the door.

When Jungkook had come into BigHit as a trainee he was well accustomed with the fact that he liked men as well as women; so seeing not only Hoseok, but all of his other members as handsome young men wasn't a surprised. However, nothing had prepared him for the dancer's caring and outgoing personality, that would become the one thing helping Jungkook out of his shell to the others. Back in the day, Hoseok was the only people he felt comfortable with. It didn't take long for a crush to appear.

Throughout the years, Jungkook has had to suffer through cuddles and forehead kisses from the man he's been crushing on for years. It is hell. To know Hoseok is filled with love and needs to express it even without it being romantic really hurt. But he couldn't even be mad about it, it was Hoseok's way of being and it was endearing to say the least. Eventually he stopped asking him for touch and affection, Jungkook reckoned that if he did he was probably taking advantage of Hoseok's loving personality. Recently, he older had caught him off guard, asking him if anything was wrong; he really didn't know what to answer, so he didn't. Needless to say, things were conflictive between the two at the moment.

"Jungkook, is everything alright? Can I come in?" You could feel his tone becoming more stern, but the care was always there. Guilty, the maknae thought about how he shut Hoseok out the other day. And how, as embarrassing as this was, he couldn't bring himself to do it again. So he inhaled deeply, feeling his stomach push out even more it even stung a little. Exhaled, and opened the door into the stall. Hoseok walked in, and stared at the younger intently. The compromising position made Jungkook's entire body warm up with shame. He immediately felt the need to explain himself.

"I-It was an accident! I didn't notice how much I had drank until my stomach was all bloated, and I tried to keep it professional, but it had started to hurt so I came in here..." He wouldn't dare to look at the older man in the eyes, he knew if he did his voice would shake even more than it already was. The silence was suffocating, so he continued. "I was about to take care of it! Y-You don't even need to be here, it's-fine I got it." He explained quickly when he saw the dancer kneel before him.

"Let me help." He sounded so gentle yet so determined. All those times he had stuffed himself as to be taken care of, he had had always wished of having Hoseok be the one to pamper him, and soothe him. Regardless, he was going to protest, but the older beat him to it. "What where you going to do?"

"Um, well... I usually rub my stomach, to help me get the burps out... You really don't have to-?"

"Can I?" He interrupted. To which Jungkook, taken aback, nodded slowly.

Hoseok's eyes were fixated on the large expanse of skin before him, his dainty fingers slowly reaching for the hardened dome.

"The break is over! We need you on set!" Somebody abnged n the door and yelled from the outside.

"Just a minute!" Hoseok exclaimed happily as if nothing strange were happening inside the stall. When his eyes came back to Jungkook they had changed; they didn't have that caring and gentle aspect they had before, now he looked determined.

Without any warning, he placed his hands firmly on Jungkook's stomach; the younger man gasped at the feeling. Hoseok's hands were smaller than hid, making him feel a lot bigger than he actually was. And without waiting another second he began kneading the skin with strength and speed. The maknae's eyes widened at the sensation, the hands pushing in and out of his taunt flesh had him feeling all sorts of things. Although weird, he couldn't help but think of how intimate this situation was, freeing butterflies inside his stomach. Wait, no. It's a burp.

Loud and gurgly, it resonated on the ceramic walls. Jungkook's face grew even redder. But when he looked at the dancer for his reaction, satisfied smile was not what he was expecting. The older moved his hands to the very bottom of his stomach, urging all of the has to come out. Even if dainty, Hoseok's hands were massaging the flesh like his life depended on it. Groping tightly, squishing between fingers urging the gas to come out. And it did, repeatedly so. Jungkook felt his body relax form the tension in his stomach leaving, however he could not bare with the embarrassment that the he felt; using his hands to cover his face and burping through them.

"Do you feel any better?" He asked with care, to which he nodded, head still buried deep in his own hold. "Ok then, let's get out, they are waiting for us" The older man stood up and offered a helping hand for Jungkook to do the same. He took it and together they walked out of the stall and into the set.

Luckily the wait hadn't even been that long as they had feared, it took a little bit of the guilt but it didn't change the fact that this was horrible, this felt horrible. Jungkook had never felt more disgusting and appealing in his life, feeling the silent judgement form his crush out of all people. Of course, he wasn't showing it, yet it was only natural to judge someone under such bizarre circumstances. How was he supposed to talk to Hoseok after this? He might as well have confessed and be let down, at least that's a normal way to ruin a friendship.

The recording went by smoothly, although he couldn't help but go into shut down more. He cooperated throughout but he did not want to speak to anybody; it was especially hard pretending to be enjoying yourself and having a blast, but somehow he managed. In moments like this, Jungkook truly felt completely unaware of his surroundings; he didn't know how much time had gone by, the people talking felt like faint background noises and all he could hear were his own thoughts resonating inside his head. Eventually, it was over and they could go home.

The ride home went smoothly, the rest of the group chatting animatedly about the recording. He chose to pretend to be asleep; he knew that if any of his hyungs saw him even slightly upset, they wouldn't let it go. He walked to their dorm, stilll faking his tiredness but slowly becoming real, and walked into his room. He laid there, drowning in self pity.

Beer. That's what he needed. He quickly changed and headed for the door, some of the other members were there. He reassured them he was going out to get something to drink, he would be right back. As he gto outside, Jungkook considered actually going to a bar or rather buying the beer and drinking it in the comfort of his room. The latter sounded better.It was already dark so the streets were not nearly as packed, a beanie and a mask should do it. Living in such an exclusive part of Seoul, he had to actually walk for a couple of minutes to get to the first convience store. However, he needed the walk, think about everything by himself; his feelings for Hoseok, what had happened today, the odler's response, his own reaction. It all seemed like such a mess, and mostly like he has put himself on this position. He was the one who took advantage of Hoseok to the point where it damaged their relationship. He got out of the store almost as soon as he walked in, the only difference was that now he had two large packs of beer inside of a bag and was determinedly or almost excitedly walking back to their shared apartment. He sprinted trying his best not to shake the dozens of cans he was carrying with him to his room. He went by so fast, that nobody really had the time to process nor worry about what the maknae might be up to; they were all really tired form the recording and they recon even Jungkook might appreciate the space alone.

He sat in his desk, and turned on his computer, looking for the playlist he truly wanted to listen to at a time like this. Once he heard the soft tunes begin to play, he physically relaxed into his chair, closing his eyes and letting a long sigh escape through his parted lips. And without further ado, he began to drink.

It was so easy to get lost in what he was doing, the movement of the can form the desk to Jungkook's mouth almost automatic, the feeling of fullness engulfing him little by little. The warmness in his stomach growing alongside the dizziness in his head.The music playing making it seem like time had stopped for just this moment, but time did go on and soon all the other members were heading to sleep; further immersing him in this atmosphere he had created. He placed the hand that wasn't holding a beer on his slightly rounded out stomach, the gas already begging to expand his midsection, and rubbed there gently. Just to feel if it was actually real or not, he didn't know through how many cans he had gone through but it was hard to keep track of what sensations were real and which ones he was imagining for self indulgence.

He imagined Hoseok was here with him, helping him drink, help him grow. He imagined sitting on his lap and difference of size between them, and growing heavy with the liquid he was chugging down. Hoseok's dainty hands making feel even bigger. Hoseok's lithe frame making JUngkook feel massive, his thick thighs over his slim ones. Hoseok's breath on his ear, encouraging him to go on, hot breathes against his body only making him thirstier and eager to continue. The determined look on Hoseok's dark eyes when he helped him today, the memory of his hands being all over his body. Hoseok. He needed Hoseok.

He stood up too quickly from his chair, the world swirling slightly around him. he didn't have time to check how many cans were actually left as he clumsily waddled towards his phone; partially because of the alcohol, but also because of the sting in his stomach from the gas stored inside it. He grabbed his phone and quickly sprinted towards his chair and sat on it with force; the slight noise it made sent shivers down Jungkook's spìne. Uncoordinatedly he dialed Hoseok's number, without any real awareness of what he was doing.

"Jungkook?" A very tired but mostly confused voice answered on the other side.

"Hobi I-" A loud burp interrupted him mid sentence, he now realized he hadn't really opened his mouth since he began drinking.Without any shame he continued. "I-I need you Hobi."Another gurgling noise left his throat after the needy confesion. "Need you hands, here with-with me." His voice was shaky with desperation.

"Jungkook, are you drunk?" His voice was stern.

"Please come?" A deep sigh was the only thing he said after a long minute of silence.

"I'm going, stay where you are." Waiting for him to arrive Jungkook looked down at himself, with his stomach ballooned his shirt had risen up and he had undone his pants to make more room, he didn't remember doing so in the first place.

"You came!" He exclaimed drowsy.

"Kookie, what is going on?" He didn't sound as stern as he sounded on the phone. "Getting drunk on a weekday? Alone in your room? Is everything ok?" He slowly approached Jungkook's chair, ignoring completely the compromising position the maknae was in; slightly disappointing the younger by doing so.

Even if drunk, Jungkook knew that confessing his feelings on this scenario wasn't ideal, not for him nor Hoseok. But, on the other hand , he didn't want to keep lying, specially when the older man was right in front of him demanding to know what was wrong. He had to say something.

"I just...I keep looking for this feeling of being full and, and I never told anybody. But now you know and, I don't know...I'm scared, I don't know why I do this, I wanted you here." It doesn't really answer all of the dancer's questions, but it wasn't a lie either. And more importantly, it seemed to work on Hoseok. His face softened at the younger boy as he walked and sat at the end of his lap.

"You didn't finish all of your beers." He mentioned eyeing the bag beside them.

"Want one?" Jungkook offered with a playful smile.

"Well I suppose one beer won't hurt." That's a lie, especially coming from Hoseok, but he didn't argue against it. He took the beer and began drinking it quickly. "So, you said you were 'looking for this feeling'. What do you mean?" Hoseok made talking, even in the most uncomfortable situations, like it was nothing.

"This. The feeling of being full. I don't know what it is about it...It makes me feel, safe? In a way, it's more like I put myself in position where I need to be taken care of. And it feels... amazing." It was weird finally saying all that stuff out loud, yet somewhat cathartic.

“But…” Hoseok began tentatively, “Has there ever been someone, to take care of you?” The maknae blushed, even though the question didn’t imply anything; or that's what he tried to convince himself of.

“Well, it has been more of a treat yourself thing.”He laughed pitiful. Warmth re appearing on his face as he remembered how desperate where his urges of Hoseok's care. “But I can imagine.” He stated carelessly, the effects of the alcohol finally affecting his common sense.

“Oh yeah? What do you imagine?” It was getting hard to read what the older man’s tone meant. But he could see him leaning closer from the end of his lap, eyes intently watching the maknae with a glint of something Jungkook couldn’t describe. It was difficult to pay attention as his eyes closed, drowsy and wasted; Hoseok’s insinuating questions only made his long time fantasy more vivid. Before he could control himself he spoke.

“You, mostly.” The statement should have been terrifying but he couldn't find it in himself to care at this point, so he continued. “Your pretty little hands all over me, you would take such good care of me, hyung. I can’t stop thinking about it, since today I’ve been wanting it for so long I-” Once the truth was out, Jungkook filled in the silence with only more exposing honesty, though his rambling was cut short by a tentative hand on his muscular thigh. His eye shot open wide. Ant there he was, dainty hand settled comfortably over his thick leg, the older man leaning forward with an expecting look in his eyes. A serious expression made Jungkook shiver, he looked so, demanding. It felt like he was asking for an explanation, and the maknae was about to give it to him, but he beat him to it when he said.

“You didn’t finish your beers.” He stated simply. An innocent look as he leaned down to grab one from the bag next to the chair. He slid himself forward on Jungkook’s lap, now sitting mid thigh where his hand had once been. The maknae’s eyes widened if possible even more, as Hoseok opened the can and eyed him expectant for a complaint whilst bringing the can to the younger’s lips. Jungkook took it in an obedient began to drank as the older held the can delicately to his lips. Although his adorable demeanor, the maknae still found an authority in Hoseok; but rather than having to fear it Jungkook felt like he was at the dancer’s care, yet still feeling the need to please him as well. His eyes were glued to his drinking lips, so he took the chance to look at the older properly.

Hoseok had his eyes half lidded and soft exhales where leaving his parted heart shaped lips. With both hands on the can to make sure nothing spilled, he was leaning slightly towards the bloated stomach; which was beginning to make itself noticeable to both men. Giving it a light pressure, not enough to get any as out, but enough to make him squirm.

The time their conversation ahd taken hadn’t been enough to sober him up, and the extra beer sliding easily down his throat wasn’t helping either. It was becoming hard to process the situation for Jungkook. Of course he knew this wasn’t just a friendly and platonic encounter, but neither had it been the one in the bathroom earlier that day. It was hard to imagine what Hoseok felt for him, let alone this whole stuffing scenario; all the maknae had was his reactions to guide himself on. He had let all his intentions out there, but Hoseok hadn’t mentioned a word; which wasn’t a surprise for the younger. Attentive of others feelings but neglective and fearful of his, yes, that sounded like Jung Hoseok alright. Lost in thought he hadn’t even noticed he finished the can already, it wasn’t until the can was slipped out of his reach that he snapped out of his transe.

“Just two more.” There it was again. That authoritative tone on Hoseok’s voice. Not stern but strong, motivating, addictive. Jungkook felt within him the strong urge to comply to whatever it was he asked; so when the older man brought yet another beer to his lips, it was impossible to refuse. Even with the growing discomfort on hi middle section.

Still in doubt of Hoseok’s intentions behind this entire situation, Jungkook raised his hands from the arm rests of his chair; tentatively hovering over the older’s waist. He didn’t want to cross a line and for this to end, but this whole scenario already felt like a line was being crossed. With his mouth full, he tied eyeing at Hoseok looking for some sort of permission; but the dancer’s eyes were glued to his lips. Intently watching the younger drink, as to make sure if he wanted to stop or not. It didn’t take much for Jungkook to decide on gently settling his hands at either side of Hoseok’s waist; gently urging him closer. The older man slides across his lap, until his slim stomach was pressing firmly against Jungkook’s firm dome. Soon enough the second large can was finished as well, and the maknae was truly feeling the expanse of his midsection pushing against the shirt he was using. It was uncomfortable. But he knew that the more he drank, the more time Hoseok would have to spend taking care of him; so in the end it didn't take much of him to eagerly begin to drink the last can left.

This one he wanted to get over with, needed the older’s hands on him somehow. He reckoned Hoseok knew that already, yet he pretended to be concentrated on the can on his lips instead of the bulging firmes growing on his stomach. He gulped aggressively as an attempt to finish it as fast as possible, horrible idea. HAfter slightly choking on beed, he was actually grateful Hoseok’s entire attention was settled on him drinking.

“You are doing great.” He reassured taking the can away from his mouth, his voice sounded gentle and less authoritative than when he first commanded him to drink. “You only have half a can left, you can do that right?” A teasing and challenging mansour taking over the last question, as if darin Jungkook playfully. This made it clear that Hoseok indeed knew what Jungkook was eager for, but wasn’t willing to give to him until the last beer was finished. The maknae hummed determined and the can was once again brought up to him. Patiently he worked his way through the gazzy liquid. He could feel his face scrunching up from the discomfort in his abdomen, the strains of pain making it hard to continue drinking. He found distraction in his hands around Hoseok’s middle, stroking gently; feeling the skin through the fabric, slightly tightening his grip when feeling especially filled. It seemed like forever, but it was finally finished.

“Amazing.” Hoseok’s voice was quiet and tender. His face inches close of his own; Jungkook wondered if his deep exhales of air smelled like beer, but it didn’t seem to bother the older man. “You did amazing, Kookie.” Their noses were grazing each other with the slightest of touches, and so were their lips. Jungkook froze, petrified by the others bold actions. With a gentle smile, he brought their lips together. Softly the older man began to move his lips.

The maknae was on a spiral, the alcohol only enhancing his feelings for Hoseok and all of the sensations he was feeling. The gas in his stomach, gurgling and roarin within him, the tingling sensation on his lips moving in sync, Hoseok’s thin fingers sliding form his jaw to his neck to his chest to finally settling on the top of his ballooned stomach, pressing lightly against it. Jungkook’s jaw dropped at the sensation, deepening the kiss. On the hardened dome, Hoseok’s hands began to massage strongly; the sensation so pleasing the maknae was opening his mouth again to let out a moan. He wished he’d take that action back, but it was too late.

A clear burp erupted from his parted lips almost as soon as he had chosen to open his mouth.

“Hobi! I’m, shit I’m really sorry, all the beer it just-” He began explaining,m petrified by his own actions. Somehow, he had forgotten what stuffing himself usually lead to. Though his ranting was interrupted by yet another burp escaping past his lips. He stayed there petrified, the ashamed warmth taking over his entire body. A quiet giggle erupted from the older man.

“It’s okay, Kookie.” He spoke reassuringly with a tender tone and even softer voice, their faces still centimeters apart. “Just let it all out, I’ll help you” Although it has started with an authoritative Hoseok, this was one Jungkook war most accustomed to: the Hoseok who helped and cared for everybody; even through embarrassing situations. But, how could he be sure he was just doing it for pity of a wasted maknae and not because he actually felt the same way?

His worries were soon vanished, as the dancer continued not only to rub firm circles on the top of his stomach but continued kissing the younger man. He parted their lips and began nibbling softly on his jaw; Jungkook’s hands on the other’s waist tightened at the sensation. Hoseok’s hands over his stomach felt like magic, dainty but strong; he could feel them moving the gas around him. As a result of his miraculous kneading, a string of various burps came out of the maknaes mout like it was nothing. Sure enough, it felt humiliating, but the older’s encouragement was getting him through it.

“Yes, keep going.” He mumbled lips pressed to his neck.

“You are doing amazing.”

“Let them out, just like that”

He mewled at the praise, only for it to blended with another burp. Hoseok’s hands had began to travel along the expanse of taut skin. Groping the sides with force; Jungkook’s jaw fell open, his face scrunching up for pleasure. Earning a burp as its consequence. He could feel himself deflating form the gas leaving his body, thought there was still much to go, and Hoseok was determined to get it out. The older man kept on roaming as much as they could, finally doing so underneath Jungkook’s shirt. The dainty hands settled at the bottom of his stomach, pressing slightly. His automatic response came from his hips, pushing forward against Hoseok’s. It was only then he noticed how aroused this situation was making him. He was hard. The older man had shown his awareness, answering through groping of the lower half of his hardened dome. His burps were become softer and quieter, and it seemed like the could finally begin to focus on the maknae’s other issue.

Jungkook thought about it for a minute, his long term feelings for Hoseok; is this how he wanted it to happen? Drunk, without a clue if this were going to happen again or not? Suddenly, the smooth movement of the hips from the man on top of him seemed unappealing.

“Wait!” He exclaimed shyly. The dancer stopping entirely, surprised; his attention completely on Jungkook. “This is not how I want it to happen.” He stated. “I-I’m sorry if I lead you on, but-”

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything.” He reassured with a smile. “How about this, we go to sleep and we can talk it out tomorrow.”

“That does sound nice.” He confirmed drowsy.

---

Jungkook rose the next day by the excruciatingly loud alarm on his phone. 6:30 am. Right. Work. The memories of last night were blurry, and all his mind could care about at the moment was to finish preparing for the long day ahead of him; whatever it was that they were doing, he couldn’t recall. HOwever the memory of him and Hoseok having to talk made a spark of an indescribable excitement rise in his stomach. Wait no, that’s the hangover.

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creator-zee · 4 years

Text

167

I woke up surrounded by white. Sterile, sterile, white. Where was I? I tried to push myself up, but I couldn’t get my left hand under me. I managed to awkwardly push myself up with my right. But I was sore, oh so sore. I groaned slightly. An IV was in my hand and some other wires were connected to me. I now recognized the beeping of a monitor next to me. I was in a hospital. But why? I tried to remember what had happened but I couldn’t. I couldn’t remember anything. Nothing. It was blank. Entirely blank.

The beeping increased as my pulse did. Who was I? Why was I in a hospital? And why did everything hurt? I tried to adjust myself to help support myself with my left arm, but I couldn’t feel the sheets. I glanced down at my left arm. A choked gasped sped my mouth. It was gone. Just like my memories, gone. From about the middle of my upper arm down was just gone.

The beeping got louder and tears stained my eyes. I let myself collapse back into the bed. What was happening?

Someone opened the door and bustled into the room.

“Who am I? What happened? Where am I?” I desperately asked the nurse who entered.

“Can you try and calm down for me?” She asked kindly, as she set down her clipboard. “I’ll answer what I can, but I need you to calm down first.”

I nodded and tried to level out my breathing. I clumsily pushes myself back upright to better look at the nurse.

“Easy there.” She warned. “You’re Probably still sore.”

“You could say that.” I muttered.

She reached and grabbed something from next to the bed. “This is a control to adjust your bed, so you can sit upright, leaning against the bed.” She explained, and I heard a whirring motion. I leaned back when the bed got into position.

“What do you know?” I asked.

“Honestly, not much.” She admitted. “Someone found you half-dead and called 911. You’re lucky they were there or you’d be dead. We barely saved you as is. We were hoping when you woke up you’d be able to tell us more.”

“I can’t even remember my name, much less how I got here.” I said, slightly panicked. “How bad were my injuries?”

“The main one was your arm, but you had small lacerations all over, and a larger one on your right hip. You also had a head injury which may have been the cause of your severe memory loss.” The nurse informed me. Her tone was sympathetic, but she remained professional. “Can I get you some water or something to eat?” She asked.

“Just some water.” I said.

She nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

I nodded. It wasn’t like I was going anywhere. She returned with a glass of water and handed it to me.

“I had a chance to touch bases with the doctor. He said that your head injury wasn’t severe enough to account for your memory loss so it was probably do you improper use of one of the new memory guns.” The nurse said as I drank the water.

“Oh, right those were becoming a problem.” I said, and confusion immediately took over. “How do I remember that?”

The nurse gave me another sympathetic look. “I’m afraid that since none of the guns being used are legal it’s not sure exactly what memories they target. They were designed initially to remove anecdotal memories and leave facts and language in tact. For example you would know that this is Laternia, but you wouldn’t know where you learned that.”

I nodded and sighed. “What does that mean for me now?”

“Unfortunately, since people have begun designing these on their own, criminals have been quite trigger happy, so a new program has been built for victims.” She explained, glancing at her clipboard. “It’s similar to a foster program, but for adults. You go and stay with a host - either a family or a single person or a few - it depends. The program gets you set up with an identity, a job, and helps you get your driver’s license. The program also provides one year of therapy - physical and mental in your case. After one year if you’re doing well, you’re on your own. But, that’s after you get released from the hospital. Your injuries still need to be taken care of, so that may be another week.”

I nodded again, processing silently. This was so much.

“Speaking of which. I need to change your bandages. If that’s okay?” The nurse asked, setting down her clipboard again and grabbing a bandage caddy and pulling on some gloves.

I nodded. I watched with some horror as she removed the bandage from my stump. The end had been sutured up nicely leaving a nice incision. That still didn’t stop the horror and shock that was sinking into my stomach at the loss of my arm. The loss of my memory was harder to mourn. I didn’t know what I was missing. But I knew I was missing an arm.

She replaced the bandage with efficient moves, before moving to the bandage at my hip. I felt awkward at being so exposed to the nurse, but I realized that while I was unconscious they no doubt had seen every inch of my skin. I finally steeled myself to look at my hip wound. The wound was also neat and healing up nicely (how did I know that) but it was a huge incision. It was easily the length of my hand, maybe longer.

She changed another bandage in my arm, and one on my leg, and another farther down my other leg. The others weren’t big enough to need bandages.

“I’m all done. Do you need anything else?” She asked, peeling off her gloves.

“A book?” I asked. “To pass the time.”

“I’ll get one for you. You do also have a tablet on your side table.” She told me, gesturing at it.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

She returned and handed me a book. I balanced it awkwardly on my lap. I didn’t recognize the title but I suppose that’s not a surprise. I began reading and found myself quickly lost in the pages. A story about a villain who infiltrated the heroes and then got very confused about what was right and wrong. When I reached the end and it was a cliffhanger with one of the characters possibly dead, I almost threw it across the room. Of course it was the first in the series.

I leaned over and grabbed the tablet off the table and looked up the book. It was the first in a trilogy, of course. I noticed that it was almost six now. I hadn’t paid attention to what time it was when I woke up, but I did now notice my hunger. Hopefully, the nurse would return soon. I could always call for her, but I didn’t want to bug them.

She returned with food. “I hope you’re okay with this?”

I nodded. “Any food is good for me. I don’t remember what I like.” I tried to joke, but just received pity.

She set up a tray and I began the awkward process of eating with one hand.

“When your arm is healed we will work on fitting it to a prosthetic.” The nurse said, and I nodded. Prosthetics has advanced quite a bit and I knew it would almost be like I had my arm back, almost.

167.1

I had a duffle bag of state-provided clothes. One nice outfit for interviews, one casual outfit, one workout outfit, and one lari of sweats. I had an ID, a new prosthetic arm, and a whole bunch of nerves. My last two weeks at the hospital had been relatively peaceful as I began physical therapy and got fitted to my arm, but that was over and now I was standing in a hallway of an apartment building, waiting to knock on the door of my roommate.

I took a breath stealing myself before I knocked on the door. It swung open after a moment revealing a woman about my age - mid twenties. Her eyes first landed on my face but they quickly jumped to my arm - or rather, my prosthetic. Due to technology, I had the full functionalities of an arm, the only difference being that it was robotic. I still wasn’t completely used to it, but it surprisingly wasn’t that different, except it was removable.

She seemed to realize that she had stared for too long and that she had said nothing. “Hi, I’m Jess, you’re host.”

I nodded. “I’m uh...” I paused the name taking a second to come to mind. “Ryan.”

She nodded. “Come in, I’ll show you to your room.”

#amnesia #memory loss #injury #loss of limb #future #writing #rommates #not edited #meant to get farther

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idolizerp · 5 years

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LOADING INFORMATION ON R!OT’S MAIN RAP, VOCAL LEE JIMIN…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 20 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: 99 Ent. ETC: this member participated on UPRS and came in second prior to debut

IDOL IMAGE

with her mature features and sharp eyes paired with that deep voice and intense rap, jimin embodies the “cool girl” aesthetic. her personality is blunt yet rough around the edges, her anger and attitude often coming close to crossing the line into “unacceptable” territory. she’s far from tame and most would think that no company would want to take the risk of debuting her just yet, however, she was added to the r!ot lineup anyway and made it into the group with her list of flaws still a mile long. though, they knew exactly how to play it just right. jimin is not a “typical” idol, but then again that’s exactly what 99 is going for with r!ot—a group of girls meant to be just catchy enough to draw you in and just intimidating enough to make you keep your distance. her aggressive and loud stance is exactly what the group needs to stand out she bring their concept home.

her confidence paired with the skills she spent years cultivating makes her worth the risk, especially with the heavy criticism of idol rappers growing each new generation. however, her own attitude towards them is what holds her back. she never wanted to be an idol, hated idols even, and it shows in her performance. the occasional lazy movements, lip syncing instead of singing live with the rest of the group, slacking off on practice. she’s far from enthusiastic about her position as a member of the group, doing the bare minimum to keep her spot and avoid confrontation from the members. when the cameras are on her, she can do what she has to get by, but when the others are trying their hardest to stand out with so many groups debuting every day, she’s doing her best to fade into the background.

that doesn’t stop 99 from pushing her as an mc and on variety shows. her blunt attitude and quick wit make her easy to crack jokes with and keep banter going, her harsh nature coming off more as a dog that’s more bark than bite when combined with the typical wacky editing. she’s a tool to get her group out there, no matter how much she dislikes it. she feels it undermines her as a rapper and a musical artist to be paraded around like a show pony and make everyone like her. she should be loved for her music and music only, not her visuals or anything else irrelevant. while she can’t exactly take back the contract she signed, she can stage her own form of protest in being as bare minimum as possible.

IDOL HISTORY

Early Life

from the moment she was born, jimin was put at a disadvantage. coming from a single mother family with two children and being from a small time, their family was always the topic of whispers and rumors. her mother never finished school, meaning the only jobs she could get were those at a store, cafe or hair salon—never making enough money to care for her and her older brother. options were limited with her mother having little family willing to take on two kids with no guarantee she’d ever come get them, and ultimately her mother decided to give the two of them up by the time she was 4 and he was 6, sending them off to live with their grandmother.

needless to say jimin and jungmin, her brother, were as thick as thieves. they were unable to be separated even before they went into the system together. despite the closeness in age, jungmin did his best to take the role of parent with how often their mother spent out working or with “friends”, and even more so when they felt they had no one else they could depend on. and jimin did what she could to keep him safe, despite being younger. whether it be fighting on his behalf whenever he would be picked on by the other children, or waiting for him when he got back from school so they could walk hand in hand home.

their dependence on each other was a crutch and a weakness. they could hardly go the school day without one another and it only got worse as they grew older.

II. Adolescence

jimin has odd hobbies for someone her age. most kids frown at the idea of writing and willingly spending extra time in school, but it was what she enjoyed. particularly, spending hours on end writing stories or poems in her little notebook her brother got her with the little pocket money he had. it was something she was always drawn to, from when she was younger and writing diary entries to school age when she would always get the highest rank in the subject. combined with her odd childhood fascination with spiders and various other creepy crawlers and her bad attitude, she was naturally seen as a bit strange. she was never a people person—coming from her relying solely on her brother and her fear of abandonment coming from her relationship, or lack of, with his mother—but jungmin was instantly popular.

where jimin was awkward and aggressive, jungmin was kind and gentle. where jungmin was bright and energetic, jimin was gloomy and sluggish. polar opposites despite spending nearly every waking moment together for years. there came a time when they began to stray away from one another, more so on jungmin’s part. when they were younger, there was no problem with letting the rude little sister tag along with her older brother’s friends, but it became increasingly awkward and weird. eventually he began telling her excuse after excuse, lie after lie, to keep her home and away from him. he loved his sister, he did, but he wanted to be his own person. jimin couldn’t seem to understand that.

as the gap between them grew, so did her tendency to isolate herself. she focused solely on her studies, her writing. she didn’t have many people who could put up with her snapping at them, and thus didn’t have any real friends close enough to reach out to her. she was alone. and that was when she found music.

III. Discovery of Music

when she found music, she felt like she finally found herself. while jimin loved writing, she always felt something was missing. her teachers suggested an extra curricular or something to do instead of spending all her free time alone. the standard kpop groups she would see her classmates play or she’d overheard her brother talk about never interested her, and as she further explored music she found she had a strong dislike toward them and the treatment of music on their part. they didn’t appreciate the real art of it all, they didn’t understand what that music could really mean to someone. it was annoying in a way she couldn’t put into words.

that was what helped her discover the rap scene. living in hongdae, it was hard to really miss the huge hip-hop scene there, but it never occurred to her that she of all people could be a part of it. to say she was immediately good would be a lie. jimin started out participating in freestyle events and becoming more and more fascinated with the world. her craft was rusty, but she eventually managed to make a name for herself and felt like she fit with the people around her. it was real, the words truly meant something to them. it wasn’t like the music she heard her classmates gush about—it was raw and made her feel like part of a real movement. she loved it.

jimin didn’t start really rapping seriously until she was 15, attending proper competitions and turning her poems into raps and her stories into songs. it was like she was reborn as someone with confidence to be herself, her own person, regardless of the flaws and whether people liked her or not. she could let out all her pain and struggles, or everything that made her smile. it was an amazing feeling.

though she was young, she earned a decent amount of respect for her skills and ability to hold her own among older rappers. she was far from amazing, sure, but for her age she had a very solid foundation. that was probably what led to her being scouted. hongdae was known for the hip hop scene and the people within it, so it wasn’t strange for scouts for 99 to hang around the known populated areas for talent. jimin wasn’t the first or only choice, but she was recognized as someone who had potential and was called for an audition.

she initially decided to not go. it wasn’t her thing—she wasn’t idol material nor was the lifestyle what she wanted. but she was still young and immature and the scouts were very sweet talkers, and so she agreed to go. in heavy contrast to herself, her brother was excited to hear it. he followed all kinds of groups, especially girl groups, and the idea that his sister had the opportunity to work alongside them was almost too good to be true. and it was, because though she passed the audition, the moment she became a trainee was the moment she discarded it all.

IV. Trainee & Idol Life

needless to say jimin was unhappy as a trainee. the promises they told her and the lies they sold her to get their there were quickly thrown out the second she signed her name, leaving only anger and disappointment. the only reason she remained even after her hopes were crushed was because she couldn’t bring herself to let down the little family she had, who were so excited at the idea of seeing their little girl on the big screens in front of the whole country. she couldn’t bring herself to let them of all people down.

despite her reluctance, she wasn’t bad at it. rapping was naturally her strong suite, but dancing and singing weren’t particularly difficult for her. she was a natural, some praised her. it made her sick. jimin was completely at the mercy of the company and trainers, singing how they told her, dancing how they told her, rapping what they told her. it went against everything she knew and she hated it. there wasn’t much she could do, however. the longer she stayed, the deeper in debt she grew, and there was no way her family had the money to pay for any of it. her only option was to debut, and no matter how much she looked down on the others or how much she hated the idea, she worked toward it harder than anyone.

when she got the offer to be sent to a competition show while still as a trainee, she naturally hesitated. the competition among trainees was already more than she bargained for after all. but the possibility that she’d get to rap what she wanted, how she wanted, was just too much to give up.

when she was a contestant on unpretty rapstar, it was like a whole new world, but somehow the same one she’d left. she’d never tried “dissing”, not really, after all she was young and no one would truly try to take her down hard before. but that wasn’t like then. no one would go easy on there and she had to deliver the show people wanted to see. her cocky attitude and aggressive nature came in handy in a way it hadn’t before—she was exactly what people wanted to see when they turned the television on. she was all confidence and power, even if she lost or was less perfect on her rhymes. she held the attitude of a winner and when you have that, it doesn’t matter where you place. however, lucky for her, she managed to come out second and helped 99 solidify their plans for her.

with the hype surrounding her from the show, it wasn’t hard to figure out that she would be one of the girls debuting next. it was both a blessing and a curse for someone like jimin, but there wasn’t much that was within her power. when she was announced as r!it’s main rapper, she didn’t celebrate like the other members chosen. it was like one weight in her shoulders was exchanged for an even heavier one and it only got worse as the debut day grew closer. the only saving grace was her being allowed to have a hand in a track, allowing some ounce of actual jimin to be poured into the music she wanted to hate.

even while promoting as a member of a rookie group, jimin never changed who she was. she never forced a smile, never faked a giggle to seem more likeable. sure it made some variety appearances awkward, the hosts and members trying their hardest to joke her blank face off but she stayed true to who she was. lucky for her, it went hand in hand with the way the public viewed her based on her uprs appearance—confident, unshakeable, and powerful. somehow, her disinterest only propelled her forward, landing her a job as an MC of all things. if given the choice, jimin would happily hand the job over to another member, but the excited calls from her brother and grandmother after seeing her on television made it hard to hate. after all, it was the only thing that could get her to smile and act energetic with her co-MCs and that frown could only get her so far.

#id.bio #id.99 #id.riot #id.shin ryujin

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saints-row-2 · 6 years

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How DOES shit go for ezra's lil wasteland province that he takes over? Does life improve in that area? How long does it last? Im dyin over here

MAN i havent actually ... really thought much beyond the immediate ending of Fallout 4, when Project Purity are just starting to control the Capital and start turning things around. i guess i dont want to like tie myself down to shit if future games give me new ideas yknow BUT anyway heres what i think right now

Project Purity is made up of a lot of disparate groups, largely raiders and people from Tallahassee and Ezra-Kane’s merc days, as well as wasteland recruits, fiends, ex-brotherhood, Talon company, other small gangs that Ezra-Kane absorbed into his militia... he just takes whoever wants to join and what that does also is make it so that a lot of people are connected to PP even if theyre not part of it; people are less likely to turn on a group when its giving their child, their partner, their neighbour etc work and a living wage.

another thing is that Project Purity buys out (using money Ezra-Kane took from the Sierra Madre and from House) like... every fucking trader and trade route they can, and makes deals with every caravan passing through to work as protection etc, as well as rerouting caravan and trade routes through Project Purity affiliated settlements and towns which means very quickly Project Purity controls the vast majority of the trade in the Capital wasteland.

something i hadnt mentioned recently is that both Ezra-Kane (eventually) and Tallahassee are ghouls and Project Purity has a lot of ghouls, super mutants (the ones who dont hate humans) and synths in its ranks. Ezra-Kane has some.. small drama with Atticus about the Railroad allowing Synths into the Capital later down the line bcs Atticus doesnt approve of any of this shit and doesnt want the synths just being taken into Ezra-Kane’s private army.

like i said, Project Purity doesnt do any of the like... settlement building and repair shit that the Minutemen do so people are mostly left to their own devices. but if you consider shit like Big Town? Big Town’s whole deal is that theyre unable to build a safe settlement because it keeps getting destroyed by super mutants and slavers. but Project Purity cleans out the super mutants and wipes Paradise Falls off the face of the earth (they completely destroy the slave trade in the Capital Ezra-Kane hates slavers) so.. in that scenario, there would be nothing stopping Big Town from flourishing as long as thats what the citizens want. (in theory).

really the big thing that lets PP grow and become successful is that there isnt an opposing force on the same scale. the Brotherhood left and went to the Commonwealth in Fallout 4, and got destroyed by the Railroad. the Enclave die in 3. if, say, the entire force of the NCR or the West Coast Brotherhood came down on them then no, theres a chance they wouldnt do as well, but theres really no one stopping them and thats what lets Ezra-Kane completely take over. people who dont like them are going to be too small-scale to be able to do anything.

i think in a lot of ways shit would improve. Project Purity does bring a sense of security to the Capital; theres no slavers, theres no enclave or brotherhood, they even clean up feral ghouls and super mutants. they bring work and facilitate outside trade. its... more neutral than the Minutemen in a sense? because the Minutemen are very built around being the heroes who come to save people and help people, but PP are more about punishing people who step out of line.

like to your average fucking joe who just lives in a small town and makes a living hunting mole rats or whatever, you probably dont fucking care at all. maybe your neighbour’s daughter works for PP and when you go to Rivet City to sell some skins and make some caps, you see some PP soldiers around but youre not doing anything wrong so who gives a shit. i imagine a lot of people like them because hey, they destroyed Paradise Falls and even if there are a lot of zombies working for them at least theyre not running around attacking people.

i mean the real flaw is that the longer they grow and flourish, the more they have a monopoly on everything. like trade might be safer but theyre cutting a profit on all of it (running a gang has a lot of overhead). something like GNR isnt going to be around for much longer because Ezra-Kane isnt going to tolerate someone running a station which speaks out against him. something like the Regulators, people who are hunting bounties on bad people? no fucking way is competition being allowed.

and like. the Capital is still sick. the water is bad. the land is bad. its a shitty, hard place to live with or without the raiders and PP isnt going to do anything about that. Megaton is gone so thats one less active, successful town. Ezra-Kane’s whole plan kind of places the entire brunt of actually developing a world worth living in on the people living in it. PP holds a huge amount of capital and power, but its not helping people. which i think could incite a huge amount of resentment; no one’s fond of the rich guy whos hiding in the background while everyone else struggles. and as mentioned, theres not going to be a real way for people to speak out against them. Project Purity is there to keep bad people out, but theres nothing inviting good people to stay in, really.

Project Purity’s survival is dependent on two things; the Capital Wasteland actually staying populated and alive, because if people keep drifting out in search of a better life elsewhere, theyll eventually be sitting on an empty crop of land, and on no one bigger challenging them. like i said before, the reason PP took over easily is because there was no one to stop them. if, say, the Brotherhood came back, they could probably demolish Project Purity.

oh, and the people who work for PP actually staying in line because if a big enough chunk of soldiers mutiny then its looking pretty bad pretty quickly.

as for how long it lasts... like i said, Ezra-Kane and Tallahassee are both ghouls, and they deliberately recruit a lot of ghouls to work for the company and particularly in high-ranking positions, which means theyre not going to age out in a hurry. but theres a chance... yknow... if everyone turns on them? dead. if they do get targeted by a rival group? maybe dead. if PP expands too far outside of the Capital Wastes, spreads themselves too thin and gets killed by rival groups? dead.

the plan for Project Purity is that they expand outside of the Capital and into other parts of america and i feel kind of inevitably Ezra-Kane is going to challenge the wrong person and go down in some blaze of glory... hes gonna die in his power armour with his gun in his hand, thats how ive always seen it. hes got too much ambition and hunger to change the world for it to be any other way.

JESUS CHRIST THIS IS A LONG POST................... tl;dr i think in some ways shit gets better just because people are given an opportunity to let their towns grow, but i think this is almost exclusive to big cities and towns and smaller farmers are kind of fucked. i also think the Capital’s really bad farmland means that people are heavily reliant on trade, which PP is monopolising, which is going to stew resentment.

i think people in Rivet City or Underworld or other towns that form over the years will probably be more fond of PP than people who like... are struggling to have a living of any kind. i think a lot of people will just start leaving the Capital in the end, honestly. but for a long time... theyre just quietly sitting there, holding the Capital in a tight grip and waiting for someone to try to say shit.

#ezra kane pilgrim #fallout stuff #internationalspacehobo

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ninjakitty15 · 3 years

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Chapter 6: The Plot Thickens (Loki X OFC Pairing)

"Loki, have you seen Nell, she's not in her room," a voice on the outside of Loki's room called in, waking me up from my much needed sleep curled up next to him.

"Tell him I'm not here," I whispered.

"You know he could just have that automated voice system Friday tell him you're here," Loki mused next to, already wide awake and apparently reading something while he waited for me to wake.

I groaned and buried myself deeper under the covers. "No Nell esta aqui!"

"As far as I'm aware, no one here is Hispanic, especially not Loki, nice try though," Tony responded.

"Chingate," I cursed and begrudingly pulled myself up into a sitting position. "Whaddaya want?"

"Breakfast is ready, I'm told you favor pancakes which lucky for you are the main dish so hurry up before Thor and Clint eat them all."

"Pancakes you say?" I perked up, "Why didn't you start with that?" I didn't even care that I couldn't find my own shirt as I grabbed one of Loki's long green ones that sufficiently covered what I didn't feel like flashing to the team. Loki himself grabbing a tunic and leisure pants before leading me out of his room to where the smell of much needed food teased my senses. I could feel at least one pair of eyes on me and what I was wearing and all I did in turn was arch an eyebrow in challenge.

"Getting a bit cozy with Loki, I see," mused Nat, offering me bacon as I snatched a stack of pancakes.

I shrugged and drenched everything in maple syrup. "I've only known him less than a week and if anything were to happen to him, I'd kill everyone in this building and then myself."

Tony choked on his screwdriver drink while Nat just laughed at my declaration. "Is that even possible? I mean I looked at your dna samples and you weren't wrong, it matches a dead body's sample exactly, nothing to suggest it came from someone that can still walk and think and live. You can't kill something already dead."

"Medically speaking, you are correct, but they say there's more than one way to skin a rabbit."

"I thought it was a cat," Clint piped up.

"No one's skinning cats as long as I'm still moving."

"So how does one end something already dead?" Tony spoke up.

"For most things you simply destroy it, just remember, what is dead can never die."

"Settle down there, Yara," teased Clint.

"Go on and make me, Euron," I retorted.

"Why am I Euron?"

"Theon wouldn't treat me that way."

"How many of you necromancers are there?" interrupted Tony.

"Not as much as there were before I was caught," I replied glumly. "We're becoming the next Siberian tigers, if we reach white rhino status we're fucked."

"Is it just the ability to cheat death and create your own army that would make you a good hunting target?"

I shrugged and finished my breakfast. "They certainly have a certain appeal, could be any number of reasons why we're sought after."

"You said nothing would come of them taking stuff from you, I'm just thinking, if I couldn't steal what makes you a necromancer to use myself, my next plan of action would be to somehow make you do it for me since the power stays in you and only you."

I arched an eyebrow, not a bad point there. I looked over at Loki who was probably thinking the same thing.

"Your friend said they were found as husks, shells empty of everything. Do you think they did that on purpose or maybe were forced into it?" he asked me quietly.

"That makes more sense than the theory I came up with before where they burnt themselves out to make them inaccessible even in death. They could've just gutted themselves with their blades to do that."

"Hydra are many things," noted Nat. "And mess many things up, but they know how to make a person bend to their will."

"I know about Steve's super soldier boyfriend, Bucky and how he was brainwashed by them. I don't know if that would work on us, if it's how I think they do it, it wouldn't work on me."

"How do you think they do it?"

"Rewrite your past in your mind so the memories that come up are edited to fit them as the good guys and their enemies as the bad guys."

"And that won't work because..."

"A lot of my past has already been erased from me, it was part of a deal to gain more power, I had to sacrifice something of myself to get it. I don't remember any of my family, they in turn don't know I even exist, they can't be used against me if we don't know each other. Imagine the bad guys finding my mom and threatening to kill her and we just look at each other like we literally just met, kinda kills the mood...pun intended."

"So brainwashing is more or less out of the equation then. Would there be another way to control a necromancer?"

"It would depend on the necromancer I guess. One thing I can tell you though is that no matter what you do to us to make us bend, the dead don't have to listen or respond. You also need to have a lot of power to make the dead do your bidding if they don't want to. For instance, if you were in a Jewish community and asked if anyone wants to fuck up some Neo Nazis, you'd have an army larger than China. But if you were in say Texas and asked who wants to march for the Pride Parade and fight for equal rights, you'd have barely enough corpses to make a difference and youd need more power, more effort to raise more when they've already voted no."

"You're saying they aren't just mindless corpses doing what they're told then," Nat spoke up.

"The living are far better puppets than the dead, its all about physics here, a body alive, in motion can keep going in motion in any direction, a body in rest prefers to stay in rest." That's when something clicked in my head again. "That's why they were burnt out dead, they were forced to do what Hydra wants but none of the dead wanted to follow..."

"Hydra as I understand them, don't usually take no for an answer and probably just made the necromancers suffer more till they were all used up. Did they do anything like that to you?" Loki asked.

"They seemed to think pain was the best way to break me, no one else thought to ask nicely in the five fucking years they had me."

"They had you for five years but you mentioned to Strange that there were missing ones before you were even caught. To me that sounds like they gave up on using up necromancers that didn't give them the results they wanted and focused on you and how to get you to do their will since you didn't burn out like the others."

That for some reason gave me chills. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Oh and once again I've become the sloppy second. What else is new? There's still the issue of a turncoat among them too. I told one person I would be flying back from England, I didn't even tell her which airline or what time it landed so in the extremely unlikely event she was the rat that sold me out, she still wouldn't have known where to find me. Someone had to have kept tabs on me or my aliases and sold me out and I want to know who."

"Could it have been another necromancer? Someone that wants you out of the group or jealous of your power?" offered Loki beside me.

"Outing another death mage isn't unheard of but its usually downhill for the rat bastard that does it. The dead are always watching, if they see something unfavorable like a backstabbing they'll be less likely to follow the one with the knife which means more effort is needed to get an army going. You need to have a lot of strength and power to force your will upon things that would rather stay still than help you. Imagine trying to wake up a hungover teenager for school who's clearly not over their rebellious streak and has no friends to look forward to there. Then amplify that by like a 100. Necromancy is a natural form of magic and to wield any kind of magic there must be a flow to it, natural magic requires you go with the flow rather than force it the way you want it to work."

"So whoever did it to you, they are either pretty strong or pretty worn out and probably not in the habit of wielding their magic unless necessary."

"Could be either or, I might be among the most powerful but that doesn't mean everyone else is at level one here, hell they could even be my level in the time ive been locked away, lots can happen in five years."

"How does one get to your level exactly?"

"There's certain tests you need to pass with flying colors, a sacrifice to prove you're all or nothing for it, the bigger and more meaningful the sacrifice the more power you're likely to get."

"Who or what determines all this? You make it sound like you don't just get it yourself."

"I didn't and I can't answer that question either, it disturbs the natural order. If you don't know then you aren't meant to know unless something decides otherwise."

Everyone including Loki was quiet for a moment, absorbing what I had told them before Tony spoke up. "What kinda tests?"

"A situation or scenario happens that determines if you can handle yourself and your surroundings, you don't know its a test until probably much later if at all but it happens regardless. You can't prepare for it either, either accept or fail."

"Are people just randomly chosen or is there some sort of telltale sign?" asked Nat suddenly more interested.

"You ever see things, hear things as a kid, things you were certain of being there but no one believed you when you told them?"

She was silent for a moment, probably attempting to recall that far back before shaking her head. "Not that I can recall."

"Then probably not for you, it starts with being an open mind and a clean slate as a kid and not letting anything or anyone put doubt in you. That's the problem though init, a child sees a sad wailing women at the foot of her bed and usually they go running to their parents in fear, parents come in, say theres nothing there because most of the time adults can't see them regardless and eventually the child starts to listen to their parents over the clearly upset woman that just wants to be listened to herself. Tony probably isn't compatible, those with too much knowledge leave little room for the possible but improbable, scientists usually are."

"What about your lover beside you?" asked Tony. "A god itself is possible but improbable and he wields magic as well."

I turned to Loki curiously. "What did you see when we were fighting Hydra the other day?"

"What you mortals would call zombies? What else would I see?"

I studied him for a moment, curious if he was bluffing or not as he was still very much a God of Lies. "You might be a wildcard on this. You sure that's all you saw?" He nodded stiffly. "Tell me if that changes at any point."

"What else would he have seen?" asked Nat.

I beckoned her to come closer and leaned into her ear. "The dead comes in more than one form, spirits are always nearby, everyone has a few at least. Victims, loved ones, depends on the person."

"What was he supposed to see then?"

"They told me to take his hand when he put himself between me and Strange and they collected the spirit of an agent that almost shot me down on the battlefield."

"They can do that?" she asked louder and pulling away from me.

"If poltergeists can wreak havoc in someone's home, a bunch of vengeful spirits can get even with the one that outed them first."

"Why wouldn't they do that beforehand though?"

"They didn't have me."

"You give them their vengeance," Tony started.

"I give them what would bring them peace, they linger as their bodies rot for a reason. The sad wailing woman isn't whining for attention like some teenage drama queen, she's hurt and needs closure. The ghosts linger because there's unfinished business and I'm their business woman for the job, except unlike the psychics and mediums of today's age, I do it for free and not for entertainment purposes."

"So if someone got wind you can commune with the dead and wanted to know something about their deceased what would you do?"

"Tell em to bugger off unless in that moment their deceased makes an entrance, I'll relay a message only that person would've known about and then tell em to bugger off and let the dead rest. They'll get the same kind of response as a misogynistic man telling me to smile, I'm not here for your entertainment so you can kiss the southbound end of a northbound horse."

#loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x original female character #loki x ofc #necromancy #nell the necromancer #nellthenecromancer #loki x nell #avengers

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survivorgalaxysedge · 3 years

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Episode 6 | Your Social Game Is On 0! - MJ

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WHOOPS I KINDA DID THAT, SORRY KEEGAN, YOU DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG I JUST NEED EVERYONE ON THIS TEAM TO BE BFFS WITH ME

also just realized that at final 13 i know well over half of the people in the game..... love that for me!! -close with ali, jonathan, and zoe over here both separately & together -mj obvs -cindi and jay are known quantities -jules is great too -so only ones i don’t know.... silver, zach, asya, nathan & jessie i know i can work with at least half of the ones i know, probably more - only real question mark is cindi cuz she was a little sus originally, and jay i hope is still good but i think he and keegan were close so might have to work on explaining that one. but overall, i feel pretty well set for merge whenever it gets here, and hopefully the next couple votes can get rid of some of those ones i don’t know. onward and upward! we’ll see!!!

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I don't really do much text confessionals but I just ranted in my host chat so I'm sending it here. ~~This Round~~ this round is gonna be fun, so much fun, and I won't have to do like any gameplay because I think regardless the trian tribe is going to tribal and I wanna see how that plays out, and then if my tribe goes to tribal I'm gonna dip out using my safety without power and let silver kill an og circi since he's gonna pull out that extra vote however, if asya or jules have an advantage / if mj flips that's fine with me too. I'm still debating playing the solar eclipse. I want to cause chaos, and for what? For no reason. *Moments Later* I spun a wheel to determine what I will do this round, and it landed on not playing the solar eclipse and noping out. that's what I'm doing. now you may ask for the strategic value of letting a circi die? Well, if a Circi goes (or two circis go if it's an andro/circi tribal), I'm suddenly 1/2 of my OG tribe left. People may want to pick me up and use me as a number since I will have no allegiance to anyone. This puts me in a lowkey kind of decent position if I lie and say I was gonna be voted out if I didn't safety w/o power. Also playing a safety without power and claiming the magnet would statistically mean I am less likely to have other advantages since other people had searches stockpiled for the swap I'll probably test the waters for a bit after immunity results and then play the magnet to make it look like it wasn't planned and I just got a bad feeling. In other words: I'm turning the crackhead dial-up, it's time for fun! I swear to god if we don't merge after this round I will scream. ~~Planning for the Future~~ oh my god it could be a 10 person merge. because the merge episode is usually episode 8. we're on 6 but that wouldn't make sense to prevent a 5 > 1 person tribe from occurring and 5 votes in a swap seems like a bit much. I feel like at this point I know I probably won't win this game but I'm gonna give them hell while I'm here playing well is boring People on this cast that will probably try to kill me: Cindi, Jay, Nathan, Maybe Jesse? I haven't really spoken much to MJ or Silver, chances are my closest ally is going home this round, Zoe Jonathan and Ari may pick me up if I'm from a minority tribe but dump me very quickly. From my POV the cards are not in my favor, all I have are my advantages so the path of chaos is more beneficial plus I'm sure it's spread I'm pretty good at immunities in merge so they're gonna try to take me out early on like round 1 or 2, So if I want any chance I need to play the following way Since I cannot depend on social connections as much as I normally would 1. Make sure my existing social connections are voted out so that I am not in the group where I don't have the best social connections but I have enough that it is worrisome 2. Play my advantages early in merge if I don't win immunity, cementing myself as a big target 3. Convince people that nobody will take me deep into the game because I have placed myself in the position of a big target 4. Try to get the people that would be 100% against me voted out, while also watching Andro tribe majority. Basically making Andro and Trian fight each other 5. Win immunities near the end and somehow make it deep??? That's my best case scenario at this point in my opinion.

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So like we won immunity . Wow see what happens when we actually try? Isn’t that nice . Idc who goes really I can make new bonds or whatever with people if silver goes but in the ideal scenario he will stay. But tbh I have no power over what happens tonight so I don’t care. Hoping merge happens next

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ok so i have a little cute vote chat for me jules and mj. mj is spilling EVERYTHING abt his OG tribe including how they blindsided my wife pippa... rude. also abt his idol searches. he's a smart cookie and one to watch for but i also like him and need friends so<3

THIS SUCKS SO MUCHHHHHH ALI I AM SO SORRY

Having to remind myself that is entirely okay to be vengeful and even be blinded by revenge in these games. I've become way too soft for these things in the past couple of years. As of right now, tonight's tribal council should be 2-1-1, since Zach is skipping -- 2 votes for Silver (Asya, Jules), 1 vote Jules (Silver), and 1 vote Asya (me). If Silver's 50/50 coin lands on SAFE, the it’ll tie between Aysa and Jules and I think I’ll get auto-eliminated if it’s rocks instead of a 1v1 tiebreaker, and I’m OK with that I think! If it lands on NOT SAFE then Silver is leaving, period! And Silver deserves to leave, and I shouldn't feel nervous about taking this shot, no matter if it backfires or not. It makes me feel icky to think that Nathan, Jessie, and Silver were in cahoots from the very start and I didn't care enough to control my own game because I've become too accustomed to jellyfishing my way through ORGs to avoid being pinpointed as a leader or strategist. I'm putting my foot down tonight. I'm taking this shot and if it works, then it's merely the beginning of the end for half of the remaining cast as far as I'm concerned. If it backfires, then oh well, at least I tried something here. NO REGRETS! Anyway, just had the first alliance call with Aysa and Jules and it was great! Good vibes! We just chit-chatted and discussed strategy and previous dynamics. It will be a shame if we don’t get to push forward together after tonight. I’m also telling Silver right now not to play the 50/50 befcause if it doesn’t land on safe then the vote will be 3-2 if Aysa is lying; and if Aysa is telling the truth then he’s wasting a power that he could have later on. It kinda makes no sense for him to use the 50/50 considering the information he’s being told. I’m fine with pitching this to him because he said he was 100% gonna use it anyway, so me telling him not to will either leave things the same or result in him not using it at all. There’s no losing there. The only way to lose is if it lands on safe. The savage in me is saying, no MJ don’t let yourself get auto-eliminated if things go south, CUT JULES! And I realize that that’s exactly how I should be thinking given the first two lines of this confessional!!! But I wanna be a risk taker. I’m fine with this blowing up because the potential reward is greater than me being auto-eliminated. + Jack was rocked out last season so it would be cute to match that if it comes down to it! I hope it doesn’t, but it’s fine either way. I feel like this game owes me. Silver's 50/50 will not land on safe.

ALSO on this alliance call, I was informed that the adventure reset?!?!?!?! AND I HAVEN'T DONE THEM IN A WEEK???? LMFAOOOOO anyway.

AHHHH why did I volunteer to go first in the challenge ugh I remembered the wrong shit lol. But this tribal I dont think I have to use my 50/50 since asya doesn't wanna go to rock so she'll vote Jules with us. So yeah I think I'll be ok. Asya told me Jules is voting MJ. I'm just hoping this isnt gonna be a big blindside towards me but yeah wish me luck

okay, here's the plan. silver has the glowing orb 50/50 coin thing. i expect him to play it. silver's voting me. im voting silver and so is asya. mj is king of the key here. if mj votes silver and the orb makes him safe, then im gone. if mj votes asya (hang on, ive just had a realization and just had to sit in silence for a while whilst i process it.) okay. if mj votes asya and the coin makes silver safe, it'll be 2-1-1, with a tie between me and asya. which im just now realizing could send it to rocks where mj would be the one leaving............. boy howdy, sure wish i knew how to count. okay, yeah. we'll just hope that the coin lands on NOT SAFE -or- he doesnt play it at all. mj and asya are telling him that they're voting me out, so maybe he'll feel comfy enough not to use it. i dont WANT asya to be voted out, but it's better than me or mj being the vote. if mj gets rocked out by default because i didnt realize how to count....... oops!!! but silver has a bunch of advantages, so him getting voted out would flush those out. asya has an immunity shard and id like to think that she'd will it to me if she gets voted out, but eye dee kay!

AHHH sorry this is coming so late but I've had a busy busy few days, and luckily I've avoided tribal during this time lol So before I was feeling a bit shaky on this tribe, I felt like everyone was more connected to each other than to me. But as it turns out, that's completely untrue and I feel very at the center of this tribe. Nathan and I have had multiple long talks recently where we've decided that we want to stick together deep into this game, and he's given me some info about how he and Silver gave up their immunity shards to Jessie, so she has an idol now. Cindi and I have a connection from our original tribe too and I've been keeping up on that relationship too. I gave her a clue I found during an expedition but nothing really came of it since it's, as far as I can tell, impossible to decipher. If we did end up going to tribal, I would have made a push to take out Jessie TBH, even though she has the idol. I feel like even if Nathan wasn't for it, they'd go for Cindi and not me. But luckily that doesn't matter because we're immune and likely heading for a merge in the next 30 minutes. And if not a merge, than another swap bc I think y'all hosts anticipated that one tribe could have lost all of the last 3 immunities and I don't think you want a 2 person tribe at the f11. But yeah I feel really good about my place in the game, I want Nathan to be my shield for the time being bc he's so vocal and strategic that he will always be a target ahead of me.

I have put so much work in to stay

I BETTER STAY

All this fighting for nothing smh <3 it is not looking good

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#toinfinityandsurvive

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heyitscmei · 7 years

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so i see theres some theory talk floating around

but this post isnt really to do with theories so much as characterization

i had a whole thread over on twitter but ill just copy and paste some thoughts here in regards to one particular post ive seen floating around and some posts linked within im not trying to start fights or anything, im just expressing some thoughts of my own which is why im not linking to the post in question anyways

just a reminder, keith isnt a good liar so unless he became a good liar in the time that shiro was gone, i sincerely dont think he was lying to shiro when he told him that the team needed him

but whether or not he became a good liar or not, one thing is certain based on what weve been shown:

keith is a capable leader, but he still hasnt quite grown into the role yet

keith still hasnt quite learned how to pick his battles

thats why i dont think its quite right to say that hes more capable of a leader than shiro with time, he could be thats something even shiro himself saw in keith: potential

however something thats been made clear to us is that keith still needs to learn a little

shiro on the other hand, has experience being in a leader role hes the garrisons golden boy, the pilot of the kerberos mission and he was the head of voltron for a reason black chose him for a reason

he is capable he is a role model for keith keith tells shiro that the team needs him that he cant do it and isnt as good of a leader as shiro because its what he believes to be true

keith is honest and straightforward he knows hes lacking and he doesnt try to pretend that hes a perfect leader he KNOWS hes still struggling between doing what he WANTS to do and doing what he SHOULD do - with accepting that the things he wants to do arent necessarily good for the team to be doing

hes grown immensely in the time he has been leader, but hes not the leader they need to defeat lotor not the way he is right now and he KNOWS that

as for shiro... i can agree that maybe leading voltron gave him control something that hed been robbed of in his captivity but i also dont think that hes the type to really let things like betrayal or jealousy or whatever cloud his vision shiro from the start has always seemed to put their purpose before himself hes never given the impression of being a selfish enough person to have issues over who the leader is he seems more likely to be the type to think 'if this is what it takes, well do it this way'

i think hes being genuine when he says hes glad the team didnt lose sight of things in his absence because thats just how he is hes glad that his absence didnt become their undoing because hes only one person winning the war means saving a lot more than that hes proud of them for that because thats shiro thats what hes like selfless but driven

not once has he ever complained about being thrust into this war even though hes got more than enough reasons to complain because he sees this mission and he knows its for the greater good he knows first hand how bad it can be he wants to spare people from that its like hes selfless to a fault so i dont think he actually has any issues with feeling left out or feeling as though hes the odd one out from the team if that were really the case, i dont think hed guide from the castle as easily as he is theres no reservations or hesitation he doesnt seem to think 'im not part of this anymore' so much as 'im part of this, but in a different way from usual'

keith is so willing to step aside for shiro because ultimately he still believes wholeheartedly that shiro is most suited to lead

keith has never cared about claiming or holding onto the leader position

now in the interest of explaining why i dont think the reasons the OP of the post mentioned that make shiro a bad leader dont actually make shiro a bad leader, i addressed each reason individually so 1) in regards to when shiro tries to carry lance outside after lance protects coran from the bomb

why does he do it? well its not a good idea to leave an injured teammate alone, for one for two, if the explosion was within the castle, its pretty reasonable to think the castle isnt safe either ultimately, while the castle is big, you dont want to be cornered in the very place that the galra are likely to infiltrate

what are the galra after? the lions where are the lions? in the castle where will the galra be going then? the castle so where do you not want to be with your injured teammate? the castle

not to mention, without the crystal, the castle is generally nonfunctional the chances of lance being okay are ultimately greater if shiro gets him out of the castle at least, its a risk shiro is willing to take

why tell pidge to come back when shiro will have the easier time getting lance to safety? not to mention shiro is already there with him its not like he could tell when exactly pidge would be done sending coran and hunk off theres also no telling how long it would take for pidge to get to them its not a wise decision to just stay put inside the enemies main target while knowing the team was so separated

tell allura to come back? let keith check the arusian village by himself? thats not a smart idea either we know that it was ruse to separate them, but the team didnt know that at the time dramatic irony

so from shiros perspective, its better if allura and keith go to the arusian village together because at least they have an ally to watch their backs in the event that something is wrong you dont hear that a village is under attack and assume it wont be dangerous safety in numbers

2) regarding shiro and his decisions about when to fight and when not to fight

its worth mentioning that first and foremost, shiro never makes a decision that he doesnt wait for the others inputs on hes not the type to force them to do something if the majority disagrees with his decisions

but a very important thing about being a leader is knowing when to choose your battles this is especially emphasized in s3 however, whether to fight or retreat hasnt always necessarily been dependent on whether the odds are in their favour or not

one such exception is when they decided to take on zarkons command center

shiro knew that keith was right when he said theyd be bringing zarkon exactly what he wants he wasnt ignoring him shiro was the one who said himself that the odds would be against them even in season 1 it isnt as though he suddenly changed his mind what changed was that they had allura

and allura is a lot more than just a part of the team shes the altean princess shes the true leader of the entire damn war shes too important for them to lose

things they lose if they lose allura? - the ability to wormhole, thus reducing their mobility by a great deal - a key figurehead in the war and the person who best handles the talks and meetings with the other planets

not to mention that she has powers all of them lack, including coran

someone like that isnt exactly easily replaced

shiro said it himself when the others reminded him he was the one who said they shouldnt take on zarkons central command at first they had no choice but to attack zarkons command center

they had to try because, the way he probably saw it, the war was as good as lost if they didnt save allura anyways

in s2 when zarkon manages to keep finding them, keith says they can fight that they should fight (this is actually considered a flaw that he needs to overcome, and is addressed in s3 - he needs to learn to choose his battles) but shiro says that they dont stand a chance against zarkon and his entire fleet

again, he didnt just suddenly change his mind and hes not being hypocritical in any way he explains why they cant because keith doesnt know how to pick his battles yet

they pull back, because shiro doesnt yet see a chance for them to come out of the battle victoriously theyre not prepared yet

later when shiro says that they will be attacking, its different its on their terms its not him listening to keith because he suddenly saw an error in his own judgement or whatever this is shiro acknowledging that there is an advantage to be gained this way they have a chance here that isnt more likely to leave them all dead thats called picking your battles

shiro isnt a bad leader for it in fact, its exactly what will make keith a better leader in s3

3) regarding shiro and keith and leadership

shiro does not have 'a lot of nerve' to tell keith that he has to control his emotions if hes going to lead

shiro is well aware of the fact that sometimes, when youre put into a position where youre responsible for not just yourself, but a whole team of people, you cant let your judgement be clouded by emotions sometimes the things you have to do are not always the things you want to do

its true that keith is rational and can make smart decisions, but in the context of when shiro says this to keith its because he acknowledges that keith still lets emotions cloud his vision sometimes and the scene prior was one of those times you cant lash out at your team you have to talk to them properly thats the kind of thing shiro is trying to have keith understand

(and for the record, the decision to attack zarkons command center was not a decision that seemed to be based on emotion. at the time they attacked, shiro was not aware of the control zarkon still had over the black lion, so he couldnt have been scared of that and sure he might have been scared about what would happen to himself, to allura, to the team, but it was a risk they had to take because allura is too crucial to their mission - thats not an emotional decision its a smart one)

but hes not saying "dont be like me" to keith when he says keith has to control his emotions hes saying this because he acknowledges that keith has potential but he also acknowledges that his potential is still hindered by things that keith needs to work on and overcome

also, keith going against zarkon was not emotionally driven it was more likely keiths idea of a way to gain a huge advantage in the war no emperor to lead automatically means that the opposing side is weakened substantially

it wasnt necessarily the right thing to do either keith had no idea of what zarkon was capable of (pick your battles - going in blind isnt exactly advisable and coran even TELLS him not to do it. coran has been shown to have known more, which is a given considering he was present 10000 years ago)

also shiro doesnt have blind faith in keith for a long time now, canon has been hinting that shiro and keith have a backstory shiro knows keith better than anyone else because the rescue from the garrison was very clearly not their first meeting ("its good to have you back", “its good to be back”)

also the insinuation that shiro is not fit to lead because he has ptsd... yikes i dont think i need to elaborate on why exactly that implication is yikes-worthy

its true that keith displays leadership potential early on in the show but this doesnt necessarily mean that shiro isnt a good leader and that keith is automatically better

shiro isnt perfect, but hes a great leader canon has told us time and time again that keith has to grow into the role

(also the reason keith follows shiro and not the other way around: shiro changed his life. shiro is a positive person in his life and keith both trusts and relies on him because shiro didnt give up on him. this is why he follows shiro)

shiro doesnt "hold him back" shiros done nothing but push keith forward and support him keith would be insulted if someone thought shiro was any less than his biggest supporter (”if it wasnt for you, my life would have been a lot different”, “shiro is the only person who didnt give up on me - i wont give up on him”) shiro showing keith reason and explaining why they cant follow through on some of the things keith wants to do isnt "holding him back"

its true keith sees a lot of good stuff in shiro but the same is true for shiro to keith its mutual and shiro tells keith he wants him to lead voltron not because he doesnt want keith to follow him and wants to follow keith instead he tells keith this because shiro acknowledges that sometimes in war, things happen he could die and hes had some close calls he wants keith to lead because he knows he can trust keith to lead the team he knows that if keith leads, even if hes gone the team will be left in capable hands hes been trying to nurture that

4) in regards to keith stopping pidge from leaving and shiro stopping keith

keith is right about pidge putting two people over the universe however shiro is right about how you cant force people to be part of the team you dont nurture bonds that way you dont build a team that way

why? how do you expect to build a functioning team if a member is reluctant to be part of it

personally speaking, when i dont want to do something i dont end up doing the thing as well as i could be and im unhappy doing the thing the whole time

thats not good for the team shiro knows this and so, if pidges mind really cant be changed, he wont force her to stay also, paladins can be replaced and im sure shiro knows that considering when they first met allura, she asked them what happened to the blue lions paladin they know there were paladins before they know that they are not the first they are not the only paladins

it wouldve set them back, but if they really needed to, theyd look for a new green paladin to take pidges place you cant fight a war with someone who isnt willing to fight a war

also to say that shiro doesnt care about finding the holts as much is just.. first of all, weve established that shiro puts their purpose first im more sure that he wants to find them and just knows they dont have the time to put all their focus on finding two people when a universe is at stake

whether they have to find a new green paladin hinges on pidge, but hes not going to force her to stay besides, forcing someone to stay and fight a war... it doesnt sound like a good idea, ultimately keiths heart is in the right place and he has the right idea, but theres more to being a leader than telling people what to do its a job that requires understanding, especially for the people within the team

its true it wouldve been dangerous for pidge, but shiro is a recently escaped captive from the galra empire this, in addition to who he seems to be as a person... i think the last thing he wants to do is keep someone somewhere against their will and force them into doing something

and shiro telling keith he wants him to lead wasnt him trying to force the role on keith he was trying to give voltron the biggest winning chance in the event that he would be unable to lead them (for obvious reasons considering theyre fighting a war)

and thats about everything i have to say but im just leaving these here to organize some of those thoughts its kind of a mess but i tried to address everything i order as best as i could

#voltron #shiro #keith #meta #for lack of a better term #idk what to call this #but i wanna have a place i can easily access it so thats as good as any #cmei rambles

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im-still-writing-out-of-time · 7 years

Text

‘I’m Not Gay’

Jamilton

male x male

If you’re homophobic, get over it.

Enjoy the gay

Masterlist

“You’re so stupid. I hope you know that, mon ami.”

Thomas was bent over Alexander dressing his wounds. “How did that even happen? How do you accidentally stab yourself with a broken glass?”

“I got excited. And I didn’t ask you for help. I could probably do it better myself, blood loss and everything.” He hissed in pain as Thomas poured rubbing alcohol on his wound. “You did that on purpose, asshole.”

“What, cleaning your wound? Yes, yes I did. Unless you’d rather die from an infection, you blithering idiot.” He set the alcohol down and covered the open wound, putting pressure on to slow the bleeding.

“Knock it off, you dumb hick. Let go of me, I’ll do it myself.” He knocked away Thomas’s hand and grabbed the gauze that had hit the floor.

“Well now it isn’t clean anymore. You’re gonna kill yourself yet.” He stood up and moved to the living room. “I’m grabbing a phone and you’re going to the hospital.”

“Don’t call 9-1-1! You can drive me!”

Thomas rolled his eyes and disappeared with his phone in his hand. He came back minutes later. “Alright, let’s go stupid.” He pressed a clean piece of gauze and pressed it to Alexander’s wound before wrapping his side with an Ace bandage. “I still can’t figure out how you stab yourself in the side this bad, with a broken glass. You’re unbelievable.” He helped Alexander to his feet. “You realize now that you’re gonna need stitches, or surgery.”

“I don’t need surgery. It’s not that bad.”

“If the doctor decides it’s bad enough, you’ll be getting the surgery.” He unlocked his car and pushed Hamilton toward the passenger side. “That’s the last time I invite you for dinner at my house. You weren’t even excited about the mac and cheese.” Thomas’s curls bounced around his head as he slid in the passenger side of his SUV. “That’s my own personal recipe I hope you know. I worked hard to perfect it.”

“Why did you invite me over in the first place?” Alexander asked, wincing in pain. “You hate me.” He clutched his side in pain as Thomas started his car. “I can’t put the seat belt on.”

“You pull it, and clip it, stupid. Here, hand it to me.” Thomas reached over and grasped for the seat belt, locking it in place.

“Holy fuck, don’t! That hurts!”

Thomas glanced at Alexander and saw the seat belt rubbing against his freshly dressed injury. “Whoops, sorry. Just unclip it or something. I’m a good driver anyway. You won’t need it.” Thomas shifted his car in gear and pressed his foot to the gas pedal, slamming Alexander forward into the glove compartment.

“You’re purposely trying to hurt me, aren’t you? Now I probably have a broken shoulder. God, slow down, I’m not going to die in the next twenty minutes. Jesus. The bleeding has slowed almost to a stop. The hospital is twelve minutes away. We’ll make it without you trying to kill us both.”

Alexander held the bandages tight to his side despite the ace bandage keeping the gauze in place. He draped the other hand around the ‘oh shit’ handle above his head, as Thomas refused to slow down. Thomas glanced away from the road and at Alexander, whose eyes were starting to cross as they stared at the center line, his blinks getting slower.

“Alexander? Alexander! Hamilton, god damn it all. Look at me.” Thomas’s eyes kept flickering to the road and back. He swung into a parking spot as close to the emergency entrance as possible and ran around the side. He opened the passenger side door and watched Alexander’s eyes droop closed and his body fall back against the seat. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He grabbed Alexander and rushed him inside the emergency entrance, running him to the nearest doctor. “Fix this idiot,” he muttered, setting him on the stretcher that was wheeled over. “He managed to stab himself with a broken glass. I already cleaned it with rubbing alcohol but the moron wouldn’t stop squirming. So go fix him. I’ll be in the waiting room.”

The doctor disappeared with three nurses that pushed the stretcher beside him. As they disappeared through the doors, Thomas heard someone say that he would need surgery to stop the bleeding.

“Fucking idiot,” he mumbled, walking through the double doors to the waiting room. He threw his head in his hands and stayed like that, thousands of thoughts running through his head, until a young doctor came through the double doors, blood staining the rubber gloves he was throwing in a garbage for bio-hazardous materials.

“Are you here for Mr. Hamilton?”

“Yeah, that’d be me.”

The young doctor came forward and shook his hand. “I’m Doctor James McCormick. I performed the surgery on Mr. Hamilton. Unfortunately, it was worse than it looked. We had to repair a part of his intestines, and a piece of glass made its way into his right kidney, so we had to fix that as well. There’s a slight chance that his kidney will regain function, but it’s very slight. He needs a blood transfusion from the amount he lost, so he’s hooked up to a blood bag.” Thomas shook his head at the fact that Alexander could be so stupid. “He’s upstairs in a recovery room. He’ll have to stay here at the hospital for a few days, depending on how he reacts to the surgery and everything. We want to keep an eye on him to make sure there’s no infection or leakage from his internal organs. We managed to get all of the glass out, so there should be no problem. After Mr. Hamilton goes home, he’ll have to be constantly monitored to make sure he doesn’t do anything to hurt himself again, or rip his stitches.”

“The moron can’t even handle a glass without cutting himself. I’d have to practically sleep with him to keep him safe.”

The doctor chuckled. “It’s up to you how you monitor him, we just need him monitored. He’s heading up to room 301 right now. You’ll be allowed there twenty-four hours a day as long as you’ll be the one monitoring him at home.”

Thomas sighed at pushed his hair back with both hands and sighed. “Yeah, it’ll be me.” He followed the doctor until he reached the elevator and the doors opened right in front of him. He pushed the button for the third floor and strode through the doors to the first room as soon as they opened again. Alexander laid there in a hospital gown, his cheeks rosy against the pale hospital room. He had an IV in each arm, one in the crook of the elbow on his right arm transfusing blood, one in the back of his left hand, with a saline drip attached.

Thomas pulled up a chair and sat next to Alexander, staring at his small hands against the white sheet. His skin was pale against the bed. “Alexander, you idiot. Wake up,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Wake up.” He set his head on the edge of the bed and began to play with the buttons next to his face. The bed began to recline more, then less, as he pressed the buttons back and forth before even that didn’t amuse him. He sighed and closed his eyes, grabbing ahold of his hand to sleep with. He shifted his position a few times before he finally fell asleep. He woke up multiple times over the next two days but there was never a change in Alexander. He remained at the bedside, having the janitor buy him things from the cafeteria downstairs on his shift, the nurses leaving him a book or magazine on the bedside table. On the third day, Thomas dragged himself in the bathroom attached to the hospital room and took a shower, washing away the filth before pulling on his dirty clothes once more. As had become the norm for the last couple days, he fell back asleep, Alexander’s hand encompassed by his own.

A few hours later, he woke up to the feeling of someone playing with his curls. “Don’t touch my hair,” he grumbled sleepily. The hand he fell asleep holding was no longer there and someone was touching his curls. “Alexander, if that’s you, I swear.”

“It is.”

Thomas’s head shot up and he saw Alexander staring at him. “Alexander!” he cried, standing up. He pressed his lips to Alexander’s in an emotion filled moment of passion. Thomas heard a small, masculine groan beneath him and he shoved himself away and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back. “I- uh. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll be back later,” he stammered before running out of the room, leaving a shocked Alexander on the bed. Alexander brought his fingers to his lips and wondered if this was all a dream. He laid back in his bed and hoped it was, though he knew it wasn’t. The heart monitor’s beeping slowed in his ears as he fell into a light sleep.

He woke up the following morning to the same curly pouf of hair sleeping beside him and he smiled. Thomas was back in his seat, his elbow on the armrest, his hand propping up his head. His lips were pursed slightly as he slept and his eyebrows furrowed. Alexander shifted his body to the side of the bed and stretched over to pull one of the curls when pain shot through his side. He winced and shifted back, grabbing for the nurse alarm button. A nurse came in almost immediately and smiled when she saw him awake.

“Good morning, Mr. Hamilton. How are you feeling?” The nurse began taking note of his vitals and took his temperature, making notations on his chart.

“It’s Alexander, and I was wondering if you had something I could take for the pain.” He blushed as the nurse lifted his gown from the bottom to check out his stitches, seeing everything he had to bear, but she didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“Of course, I’ll go get something for you and I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded his head and watched as she walked out. He reached over again, wincing in pain once more, to pull on Thomas’s curls and watch them spring back into place. His hand was brushing a curl when a hand grabbed his wrist.

“Do not. Touch. The hair.”

“It just looks so soft and springy,” he whispered. “I thought you were sleeping. I just wanted to touch you again.” He bunched his fingers in the thin blanket that covered his body and laid his head back, closing his eyes. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment before his body relaxed against the sheets.

“Alexander, are you okay?”

He nodded slowly. “The nurse is already going to get medicine, so don’t worry about it. It’s just pain, which is understandable considering I almost died.”

“Well,” Thomas paused. “I don’t think you almost died. I think the blood transfusion is just a precaution. You just ripped some stuff inside with the glass but you’re completely fine.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows mockingly. “I know I’m fine,” he joked. “It’s about time you figured that out for yourself.” He chuckled before abruptly stopping and holding his side. “Don’t. I’m fine.”

“Alexander, don’t lie to me, okay? If I’m going to watch you and take care of you, you’ll have to be honest to me.”

“You’ll be taking care of me?” Alexander questioned. “You don’t even like me.” He knew he was lying to himself. He liked Thomas and Thomas liked him. Right? That had to be why he kissed him, right? “I really liked that kiss,” he whispered. “Kiss me again.”

“Alexander, I-”

Alexander grabbed Thomas’s jacket and pulled him closer, making Thomas growl against his lips. Thomas could hear Alexander’s heart monitor speed up and tried pulling back, but Alexander held him in place. Alexander bit Thomas’s lip and Thomas growled once more, pushing Alexander against the mattress. Alexander smirked as his shoulders were pinned down, but grimaced as the blanket on his body raked the hospital gown across his stitches.

“I hate to kill the mood, but why haven’t they dressed my stitches? Also, did you enjoy that kiss as much as I did? And-” He paused. “And why do you act like you hate me when I can tell that it’s completely different than that? I mean, I can admit that I feel something for you. Not all of it is complete hatred. I don’t know what it is but it’s something. I know you feel it too.”

Thomas looked down at his hands against the blue hospital gown. His hands were bunching up the fabric. “Alex, I-”

“Please Thomas. Just be honest with me.” His eyes were big and Thomas couldn’t break his gaze away from them. He was entranced.

“I care for you,” he grumbled. He finally ripped his gaze away from Alexander’s eyes. “Alright? I care. That’s why I invited you over; to become friends. I just- I don’t know anymore.”

“Then why did you run?”

“I’m not gay,” Thomas mumbled.

“That kiss felt pretty gay to me,” Alexander smirked. “Please Thomas, I know you feel it too. Don’t fight it, please.” Thomas leaned his head back on the bed and Alexander grasped Thomas’s hand in his before it was jerked away. “Thomas, please.”

“Alexander, just-” he sighed. “Just let me think. I’ve never felt like this before. I need to think about this.” He stood up, knocking the chair against the wall before he stormed out of the room. He went to the waiting room at the end of the hall by the elevators. Putting his back to the wall, he slid down, sitting in the corner looking out the window. He couldn’t face Alexander. Especially not with the boner he was sporting in his pants.

He heard people shuffling through the halls as he stared out the window. Someone coughed in the background and the television droned on some reality station. He felt a body move beside him, yet his gaze focused out the window until one of his curls bounced against his cheek.

“Don’t touch-”

“I’m going to touch your curls until you decide to talk to me like a human being.”

Thomas’s head whipped around. “Alexander, you’re supposed to be in bed.”

“I’m fine. Can you just talk to me?” His hair was messy and tangled, his gown was hanging loose in the back.

“Alexander, I do care for you. I just- I never thought about remotely having feelings for a man, especially you.” Thomas looked down and his curls bounced around his face. “I’ve always been attracted to women. Always. But you’ve done something to me and I can’t explain it. The arguing doesn’t anger me anymore, it turns me on. You used to just piss me off to no end…but now I find it kind of cute. And sexy.” He chuckled slightly to himself and shook his head. “I actually ran out of your room so I could hide the boner you gave me. Didn’t think that was what we needed to focus on at the time. And the truth is, Alexander, that I couldn’t fathom the idea of falling in love with a man, but here I am, completely and hopelessly in love with you.”

Alexander moved his body around to stand in front of Thomas and held his hands out to him. “Come on. Let’s go back to my room. I’m starting to catch a breeze,” he smirked, twirling in a circle to show his backside. Thomas’s eyes darkened for a moment before he used Alexander’s hands to pull himself up. Thomas grabbed the back of Alexander’s gown and pulled it together, scowling. Thomas’s hands made their way down Alexander’s body until they reached his ass. He grabbed a handful in each hand and squeezed, making Alexander jump as they walked in the room together.

Thomas followed Alexander, watching him climb into his bed, wondering if Alexander knew how much his hospital gown showed as he did that. Thomas groaned quietly as he adjusted himself through his black jeans. “You probably shouldn’t climb up like that again,” he said as Alexander climbed under the covers. “That is, unless you want me to take you right here, right now.”

Alexander’s eyes grew wide as his mind worked through what Thomas had just told him. “Don’t you think that’s a little quick, since, you know, you just figured out that you’re bisexual?”

“I’ve never been with a man before. I could make you my first, Alexander. You and that pretty little ass of yours.” He grabbed Alexander’s chin. “But that would be after I take those even prettier lips of yours. See them wrapped around my cock.” He took his thumb and dragged it over Alexander’s bottom lip, dragging it down. “Yeah. I could see that. You on your knees, your eyes wide, legs spread. Mm,” he groaned, bringing his free hand to rest on the bulge in his pants. “You looking so innocent.” He brought his lips to Alexander’s ear. “I bet you’d try to fight me, because you are so fired up all the time. Because you don’t have it in you to be submissive. And guess what Alexander.” He rolled Alexander’s ear between his teeth. “I want the fight. I want you try and fight me, because I know you’ll give in.”

Alexander was shaking on the bed, his breathing heavy, his bottom lip quivering. Thomas moved his hand from Alexander’s lip and slowly moved it down the front of the gown to where it was tenting right above Alexander’s hips. His hands tossed the blanket back and grasped the hard cock beneath the thin gown and Alexander’s whole body tensed. His eyes closed and his mouth fell open as Thomas began stroking him.

“Thomas, please. Oh god Thomas, stop.”

Thomas’s hand stopped stroking, but didn’t let go of Alexander’s hardened length. There was a knock at the door and Thomas finally let go of Alexander and adjusted himself, turning his body in the chair. Alexander’s face turned pale as Thomas smiled and the doctor walked in.

“Good morning, doctor. How are you?” Alexander asked.

“I’m fine Alexander. How are you feeling?”

“Better. A lot better. The nurse gave me something for the pain a little while ago and dressed my stitches. When can I go home?”

“Well, you slept off and on for almost four days after your surgery, so we’ve been able to monitor you for any signs of infection, which there are none. The other doctors and I have decided that you don’t have to be hooked up to the machines anymore, and barring any other issues that come up, you can leave tomorrow morning. I’m going to assume that you’ll be going home with your, uh-”

“Friend, Thomas Jefferson.”

The doctor frowned at that but continued. “You can go home with Thomas, who said he’ll be taking care of you until your stitches are removed. I’ll be back to check on you in the morning, but I don’t think there will be any more tests or anything for a while, so get some rest. Goodnight, Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Jefferson.”

“Goodnight, doctor.” Alexander watched as the doctor closed the door behind him before looking over to Thomas. “Can you-” He shook his head and knotted his fingers in the blanket. “Never mind.”

“What is it?” Thomas moved his hand to grab Alexander’s. “Do you need more pain medication?”

“I need you. Come lay with me.”

“Alexander, I don’t think I should.” He bit the inside of his bottom lip.

“Thomas, please. I just want you to hold me close. We don’t have to do anything. I just- I hate sleeping in strange places alone. Please,” he whispered, his bottom lip quivering. “I get scared.”

Thomas sighed but nodded his head. “Scoot over. I’ll sleep beside you.” He stripped off his jacket and tossed it on the chair before doing the same with his belt. Thomas watched Alexander’s eyes grow wide and his chest heave, his eyes not leaving Thomas’s hands. “I promise I won’t do anything. I just don’t want to hurt you with the belt clip.” Alexander nodded and laid back on the bed.

“Is this moving too fast? I mean, yesterday, we hated each other and today I’m getting you to strip and hop in bed with me. Is it too fast?” His fingers fisted themselves in the blanket again and Thomas grabbed his hands pushing them off to the side.

“Stop overthinking this. We’re just two friends who are going to sleep in the same bed and make out like teenagers.” He let go of Alexander’s hands and let his own drop to the side. “Is this about the thing before the doctor came in? I meant every word, but it’ll happen when we’re both ready. I guess I was rushing things because of all the confusion and everything. You’re right. Maybe we are going too fast. Do you want to sleep alone? I can sleep in the chair again, or I could leave, or something. I’ve finally found a comfortable position where I can sleep and hold your hand at the same time. Unless you don’t want me to hold your hand. I could-”

Alexander grabbed Thomas’s hand. “You’re rambling. Just come lay with me and we can hold each other and make out like teenagers.” He moved over on the bed and grabbed Thomas’s other hand, pulling him on the bed. Thomas groaned as Alexander pulled him too far and, instead of landing on the bed, he landed over Alexander’s body. Alexander winced as Thomas’s hand pushed against his newly dressed stitches.

“Oh my god, are you okay? Do you need me to get you something?” Thomas sat up straight, throwing his legs on either side of Alexander. “Alexander, please, look at me. Tell me, did I hurt you?”

Alexander tried to slow his breathing. “I’m fine. Just get off me.”

Thomas looked down at how he was sitting, his legs straddling Alexander. His eyes darkened and his cheeks tinted red as he tossed his leg back over Alexander’s body. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

Thomas kicked his shoes to the floor, moved his body to lay on the bed beside Alexander and wrapped his arms around the smaller man. Alexander smiled and curled his body into Thomas’s, his hips bumping against Thomas’s stomach, his eyes closing. He wrapped his arms around Thomas and ran his hands along the body of muscle against him, up his spine and cradled the base of Thomas’s neck.

“Alexander, are you really falling asleep right now? You’ve been sleeping for four days.”

“I woke up a couple times through those four days. I just didn’t stay awake long.” He never opened his eyes, but his fingers danced their way to Thomas’s curls where they tugged a bit.

‘Alexander, don’t-”

Alexander opened his eyes, grabbing a fistful of hair, and pulled Thomas’s head back before trailing his tongue from the little hollow at the base of Thomas’s neck up to the razor straight line of hair that covered his chin, turning and teasing its way up to Thomas’s ear. His teeth nibbled at Thomas’s earlobe and he drew it in his mouth before releasing it with a small whimper. “I’m glad you’re here.” He released Thomas’s hair and laid back down, nuzzling his face into Thomas’s neck.

Thomas’s chest was heaving up and down. His eyes were wide at the fact that he was just dominated by someone who had to stand on the bottom shelf at the grocery store to reach things on the top shelf. That same someone was now curled up beside him, knowing very well what he had just done, and now pretending to be sleeping. “Alexander, you can’t just do something like that and not continue.”

“I can. Look at me now, curled up, trying to sleep. It would be easier if you would slow your breathing down, so I could get comfortable. You’re hard.” He jerked his head away from Thomas’s neck and his entire face turned red. “Your body is hard. I mean, your abs, and chest. I uh… I’m gonna stop talking.” He hid his face in Thomas’s chest, the t-shirt wrapping around his face.

Thomas grabbed Alexander’s shoulders and pushed him back. “I think you promised me something,” he stated.

“And what’s that?”

“I believe you said if I got up here, we’d make out like horny teenagers.”

Alexander’s whole body began to turn red. “I mean, if you want to. I just wanted you here with me, but we can make out if you want.” Thomas threw his head back and laughed as Alexander’s body curled into him. “I also don’t think I said ‘like horny teenagers.’ I think I just said like teenagers. I also don’t think I promised. But I’m ready and willing if you are.”

Thomas pushed a piece of hair out of Alexander’s eyes. “I won’t do anything you’re not ready for. Starting now. Sit up, I want to play with your hair.” Alexander sat up on the bed and Thomas moved to sit behind him, one leg curled under himself, the other stretched beside Alexander. “You know, actually, we should give you a shower. Or a bath. I’ll go ask the doctor.” He scooted off the bed and shuffled out the door in his socks, Alexander watching him as he walked, his curls bobbing as he moved.

Alexander waited on his bed, wondering what was going on between him and Thomas. He had feelings for Thomas, he knew that, but did Thomas like him, or did Thomas lust him? He had hundreds of these thoughts running through his head when the door opened.

“The nurses said you can take a shower but you have to try not to get your dressing wet. They’ll come in after to change the dressing, but…”

“But what?”

“She said I’ll have to stay in the room with you. Is that okay?” He held out a bottle of liquid soap and Alexander grabbed it from his hand and traced the design on the bottle.

“Uh yeah. That’s okay.”

“Here, let’s go then. I’ll just sit on the toilet lid or something. If you need me, I’ll be there.” He held out his hand and pulled Alexander off the bed. “Come on. Let’s go get you clean.”

Alexander’s legs shook as he stepped to the floor. Thomas noticed and swept Alexander off his feet. “Thomas, I’m fine. It happened last time too. Just let me get used to standing up.” Alexander winced as Thomas set him down and his legs wobbled as he grabbed ahold of the bed railing. After a moment, his legs finally stopped wobbling and he slowly began to walk to the bathroom.

“I don’t know if you should be standing in a shower if you can hardly handle yourself on dry flooring.”

Alexander pushed back he shower curtain and fiddled with the shower knob, trying to figure out how to use it. “I’ll be fine. You’ll be right here if I need help.” He tried pulling on the temperature knob. “I can’t get this thing to-”

“It just turns. Just turn it until you find the temperature you want.” Thomas put the toilet seat down and plopped himself into his new seat.

“That’s dumb,” mumbled Alexander. He grabbed the tie to his gown. “Can you close your eyes? Or turn around or something?”

Thomas laughed and closed his eyes. “I can touch it, I just can’t see it, right?” He opened one eye to see Alexander staring at him, red in the face. “Shit, I have to go get a towel for you. I’ll be right back.” He strode out of the room and Alexander was fixated on the sound of Thomas rummaging through the cupboards outside. He untied his gown and it slowly slid off his shoulders as he focused on the movement in the other room. Thomas shoved through the door just as Alexander’s gown dropped to the floor and he smirked. “Was that your version of a strip tease?” he joked. “Because I found it very arousing.” He moved closer to Alexander and licked his earlobe before sitting back on the toilet seat.

Alexander shook himself out of his stupor and jumped in the shower, pulling the curtain closed around him. “You were supposed to keep your eyes closed,” he pouted.

Thomas laughed. “I had to look and see where I was going somehow. It’s not my fault I got to see your sexy show while I was at it.”

Alexander’s head whipped around the curtain. “Can you see through this shower curtain?”

Thomas looked up and smirked. “When you press your body against it like that, I can.”

Alexander looked down at himself and blushed as he noticed that everything was on display. His cheeks brightened and he shoved the curtain away and threw himself back under the water, leaving Thomas laughing. Thomas could see Alexander through the curtain still but he was enjoying the show and decided not to say anything. As Alexander raised his hands to his hair, he jerked them down again before hissing in pain. “Uh, Thomas?”

“I’m right here.”

“I can’t wash my hair. It hurts to lift my arms.”

“Do you want me to go get a nurse?” He could see Alexander holding his side through the thin curtain.

“Can you just come help me? I don’t want the nurses to… I mean they probably already have, but, just… Can you help me?”

Thomas walked to the shower, pulling off his t-shirt, tossing it on the edge of the sink. He pushed the curtain aside and saw Alexander standing beneath the water, holding his side, staring at the floor. His face looked ashamed, his posture slouching, eyes cast down. “Alexander, there’s no shame in asking for help, you know.”

“I hate asking for help. I just feel weak,” he said, his eyes flickering up to see Thomas’s naked chest and quickly flitting back down.

Thomas wet his hands and grabbed some soap, massaging it between his hands before reaching for Alexander. “I thought nurses were supposed to keep you clean while you’re here. At least while you can’t do it yourself.” He began to rub the soap into Alexander’s hair. “I don’t think they’ve washed your hair at all since you’ve been here. Here, lean back.” Alexander leaned back and Thomas began to rinse the soap out. “This will probably make your hair a little dry, but I have to wash it again. It’s way too dirty to be comfortable.”

Alexander hummed in agreement, still embarrassed at the fact that he was completely naked in front of Thomas. His cheeks flared red all the way up to his ears. His body shivered as Thomas’s fingers brushed the fine hairs at the base of his neck. “Uh, can you turn the temperature down a little bit?” Thomas had one hand trail down Alexander’s side as the other one reached for the temperature knob. It was completely innocent, just Thomas stretching to reach, but Alexander needed the water colder and now, before Thomas saw him get hard. Goosebumps appeared on his skin as the water turned cold and he shivered, sighing at the crisis he had just averted.

“You know, you don’t have to be embarrassed about getting an erection. I know that’s why you had me do that,” Thomas mused from behind him. “I’m not looking at anything but your hair. For now. It’ll be different later.” Alexander could hear the smirk in his voice. “Okay, lean your head back again.” Alexander complied and Thomas rinsed the soap from his hair once more.

“Thank you,” whispered Alexander.

“Can you get the rest by yourself?”

Alexander turned his head to look at Thomas. “I can try, I think.”

Thomas stepped back and closed the curtain, looking down at his soaked pants. “God damn it,” he murmured.

“Is everything okay?” Alexander’s voice floated through the curtain.

“Yeah, I just got my pants wet. It’s fine. They’ll dry eventually.” He stripped off the pants and tossed them over the side of the towel rack on the wall. He grabbed an extra towel and tried getting as much water out of them as possible. His boxers were damp, but nothing he couldn’t deal with.

Thomas was busy trying to dry his pants and didn’t notice the water turning off behind him. Alexander swiped the curtain out of the way and quickly grabbed the towel, wrapping it around his waist. Thomas stood against the wall in only his boxers and Alexander let out an audible squeak in surprise at the toned man half naked in the bathroom with him.

Thomas turned around when he heard the noise emanate from behind him and saw Alexander blushing with nothing but a towel around his waist. “My, uh… my pants got wet while I was washing your hair. Sorry. Just give me a minute and I’ll put them on.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“What?”

“The clothes I came in with? I mean, the shirt isn’t any good anymore but I want to wear underwear. I felt completely exposed out there. Even though it was just you.” Thomas grabbed his shirt, leaving the pants hanging up to dry and walked out of the room in his socks and boxers. Alexander was steps ahead of him, looking for a bag marked ‘patient belongings,’ finding it on the floor beside his bed. He bent down and grabbed it, Thomas slapping his ass as he did.

“Hey,” he laughed. “Open target.” Thomas sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his socks as Alexander pulled on his boxer briefs and sat on the bed.

“Well I feel slightly better. Is there another gown or something in here for me to wear?”

Thomas tossed his t-shirt to the smaller man on the other side of the bed. “Here, wear this.” Alexander took off the dressing on his side, threw it in the garbage, pulled the shirt on and climbed into bed, laying down on the pillow.

“Are you going to sleep with me?” Alexander asked, scooting over on the bed.

“Let me go get my pants out of the bathroom and hang them on the back of the chair or something and I’ll climb in beside you.” His feet slapped against the cold tile as he walked to the bathroom and grabbed his pants before slapping back out. He crawled in beside Alexander who was facing the wall, his back turned to Thomas. “Why are you turned away from me, Alex dear?”

“No reason,” he squeaked.

“Oh really? Then turn around.” Thomas grabbed his shoulders and turned him around.

Alexander gasped as his body was pulled flush against Thomas’s warm chest, his legs wrapping themselves around Alexander’s. Thomas smirked as he leaned down and kissed Alexander, his teeth latching onto Alexander’s bottom lip. Alexander stretched his arms around Thomas and played with the curls that surrounded his fingers. Thomas pulled away and smirked at Alexander. “I see you’re keeping your promise of making out like horny teenagers.”

“I didn’t promise, and I didn’t say horny.” He blushed, hiding his face in Thomas’s chest, inhaling the scent that surrounded him. He smelled like hospital too. “You don’t smell like you,” he whispered. “I want to be able to smell something other than hospital.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll go home and I’ll wash myself with my own soap, how’s that sound?”

Alexander murmured in agreement and fell asleep, his breathing becoming slow and steady. Thomas grabbed the hair band from Alexander’s wrist and pulled the sleeping man’s hair back into a ponytail, kissing his forehead. “Goodnight, Alexander. Sleep well.” He watched the slow rise and fall of Alexander’s chest before he closed his own eyes and fell under the blanket of sleep.

The pair was woken up the next morning to the attending surgeon snickering at the foot of the bed. “You were serious about sleeping with him to keep him safe, weren’t you?” he chuckled, looking at Thomas.

Thomas’s cheeks rouged at the memory. He had been joking at the time, but now…

“Alright, Mr. Hamilton. I’ve looked at your tests, and they all came back normal. Let me look at your stitches and if everything looks good, you can go home today.” Alexander lifted the side of his shirt- Thomas’s shirt- and the doctor examined the stitches. “You’re healing remarkably well, so you’ll definitely be going home today. Make sure you be careful and don’t do anything that’ll rip your stitches. Come back in a week and we’ll take out the stitches. Have a good day, gentlemen.”

The pair watched the doctor walk out and Thomas looked at Alexander, kissing his lips gently. “Let’s go home, love.”

“I want nothing more.”

#Jamilton #Jefferson x Hamilton #Kinda sexy but not really #hamilton au #hamilton fic #hamilton fiction #hamilton writers #Hamilton #Thomas Jefferson #Alexander Hamilton #Alexander Hamilton x Thomas Jefferson #Hamilton x Jefferson #smut #jamilton smut #light smut

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forgedobsidian · 7 years

Text

Nothing Ever Good

A MHA fanfiction.

AO3

Summary:

Naomasa has had confusing opinions on hospitals over the years, and Toshinori's injury at the hands of All For One doesn't make things any clearer.

TW for pain, blood, and medical stuff.

I’ve had this up on AO3 for a while and wanted to put it here just to keep things even.

Naomasa Tsukauchi had a bit of a complicated relationship with hospitals.

It had probably started when he was younger. He had taken a fall down some stairs when he was six, resulting in a broken arm and a necessary visit to the hospital. He hadn’t liked the way the lights reflected on the too-clean floors or the way the nurses always looked exhausted. It had been sterile and too quiet and even with his mother holding his hand, it scared him.

The fear had passed, eventually to be replaced with a sense of trepidation. He had grown up, met other people - including the man would would eventually become All Might and his closest friend - and decided to become a detective. Helping others had always appealed to him, and he decided that he could do that best by entering the police force.

Then the hospital visits involved seeing family, coworkers, and civilians involved in one case or another. The beeping of the machines had always seemed impersonal and emotionless, and the sheets on the beds had always made the patient look small. He felt cold whenever he was in a hospital, though he was always respectful and removed his coat. He was always happy that he was fairly robust and never had to be a patient himself.

There were times when he didn’t mind being in a hospital. Whenever a friend or family member was discharged he was always happy, and being able to bring together families involved in cases always made his chest warm.

And then Toshinori had fought with All-For-One. The first time.

He could still remember the rush to get the broken body of his friend to the nearest emergency center, the field medics hooking up machines and blood bags to the still form while they rattled along in the back of a retrofitted ambulance. Naomasa was always at his side, pressing his coat - and later medical bandages at the direction of the medics - to the gaping hole the villain had punched in his friend. He had focused on just keeping Toshinori together as much as possible, even though his blue eyes were half-closed and glossy and please don’t die.

Then, somewhere along the rushed journey, Toshinori’s heart stopped. The oxygen mask held against his mouth and nose stopped misting over with breath and blood. Naomasa had been pushed to the side, staggering away from where All Might had been stretched out as the emergency personnel tried to bring his friend back. It had taken three shocks with the portable defibrillator to get it started again. The rhythm of his heart was still rickety, but he lasted till the hospital at least.

Naomasa had been forced to stay at the entryway doors and could only watch as his friend was wheeled away. It was then he noticed the blood covering his front, splattered across his pale hands and face. He stood in the hallway of the hospital, and everything got very quiet.

Eventually a nurse took pity on the bloodstained detective and gently led him to a shower, leaving a pair of hospital scrubs for him to change into.

After getting clean, tossing his bloodied clothes in a garbage hamper, and ignoring the red under his fingernails that no amount of work would dislodge, he went out to the waiting room. Torino joined him after a while, all his nicks and scrapes tended to and stitched together. Naomasa looked up at the other man from his hunched position in the hospital chair. “I don’t know how he’s doing.”

Torino nodded, his visible eye downcast. The other was swollen over, bruised purple and black. The two of them sat in that room until the next day. Naomasa was sure that he had fallen asleep at some point, exhausted and worried and feeling queasy. Sometime in the night he was contacted by the officials.

They hadn’t found a body, but given the destruction of the area and the hit Torino had seen Toshinori land on All for One it was unlikely that he survived. It was fortunate that the field medics and doctors that had dealt with All Might thought that they were helping a victim of a car crash. Naomasa listened to all of this, mentally foggy from exhaustion. He didn’t remember hanging up at the end of the impromptu briefing. At some point he had contacted the police station, saying that a family emergency had come up and that he wouldn’t be in for his shift.

36 hours had passed since they had brought Toshinori and his broken body to this hospital when Naomasa checked his phone the next time. Then 40 hours. Then another five. At that point Naomasa was feeling razor-thin, his patience whittled down to a splinter by worry. He tried to ignore how cold he felt.

Then, thankfully, an exhausted doctor walked up to them. He looked around for a moment and, finding the waiting room empty, sat down with a heavy sigh. “You came in with the crash victim, right?”

“Yeah.” Naomasa almost started at his voice, thick with emotion and tiredness.

“Does he have any family we should contact?”

Torino and Naomasa looked at each other. “. . . no. There’s just us two.”

“Alright.” The doctor sighed and slouched in his seat. There were dark circles under his eyes. “It was lucky that you were there, officer. He might not have made it otherwise.”

“A-and how is he?”

“Well, he’s stable enough for now that we need to risk moving him to a larger facility. They’ll be able to handle it from there.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then, Torino’s voice broke the silence. “How bad is it?”

The doctor looked at them both, seeing their haggard appearance. He ran a hand down his face. “You said that you’re family, right?”

“Yes.”

The doctor eyed them both for a second before clasping his hands and clearing his throat. “Honestly, he shouldn’t be alive. I know that his heart stopped on the way here, and the amount of blood loss is . . . there’s just so little we can actually do here. His internal organs are screwed up in one way or another, blunt force trauma or lacerations or simple lack of blood. His torso is shattered, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they end up having to remove a few things. And that was just the large injury.”

Naomasa cradled his head in his hands, slowly shaking it as if to deny the doctor’s words.

“The bones in both of his hands have a variety of fractures. While the left portion of his torso sustained the greatest damage, his entire rib cage is weak with microfractures and worse. The left side of his hip is cracked. His left arm is broken in two different places. He has a concussion, which makes it dangerous for us to keep him under anesthesia. There are multiple lacerations all over his body. Honestly, I’ve never seen someone so battered.”

Naomasa’s voice was quiet. “What can you actually do?”

“He was pumping air into his chest cavity - we managed to fix that. We’ve removed all the bone fragments we could find, removed the irreparably damaged internal tissue and temporarily closed up the chest wound. We reinforced his ribcage as well as we could. Right now he’s being pumped full of painkiller and antibiotics. He’s on his eleventh blood transfusion unit. He’ll be airlifted to the closest facility that can handle massive trauma. I’ll give you the address once he’s on his way.”

“. . . alright.”

The doctor gave them a sympathetic look. “I won’t pretend that his chances are good, and even if he makes it through the week it’ll be a long road. However, the fact that he’s made it this far proves that he’s a fighter. I wish you all luck.”

“. . . thank you.”

The doctor left. Naomasa looked at Torino. The hero was haggard, his age echoed in his gray hair and the lines around his eyes. He seemed to have gotten older over the past two days.

For one ridiculous moment Naomasa wondered if it was all a surreal dream. Maybe now he would wake up and make a cup of coffee, listening to the radio in the stillness of the morning. Maybe he would be able to walk down to the bus stop and hitch a ride to Toshinori’s street. Maybe he’d be able to talk with his friend over breakfast, because while he might be a fantastic hero, Toshinori can’t be bothered to take care of himself sometimes and, really, he should fix that because if he goes so far as forgetting to eat something obviously needs to change. Maybe he’d be able to sleep without seeing his friend covered in blood and gore and his heart stopping and going like a bizarre metronome.

Naomasa didn’t register the tears on his face until Torino placed a hand on his shoulder and gently leaned against the younger man. Torino’s voice was raspy as he spoke. “He’ll be all right, he’ll be all right.”

Naomasa felt bile rise in his throat when he entered the hospital Toshinori had been transferred to. The hair raised on his arms as he walked through the doors, and his hands shook as he walked to the front desk and asked for Toshinori’s room number. The clerk at the desk told him that “Mr. Yagi is still in surgery, but his room number is 752. You’ll have to step out when they bring him in, and then depending on what the doctors say you might be allowed to sit with him.”

He sat in a small area on the seventh floor, uncomfortably pinched in hospital chairs that always seemed too small. He watched as they wheeled Toshinori into his room a few hours later. A nurse came up to him and said that he could sit with his friend, but to keep quiet and let him rest.

The first time he saw Toshinori after he was forced to stay outside of the emergency room doors it was a bit difficult to recognize his friend. Oh, the insane blond hair was still there, as well as the hard earned muscle, but the hospital bed made his large body seem small. There was an oxygen mask strapped around his head, covering everything from the ridge of his nose to his chin. Various IV’s trailed from his right arm, connecting to the metallic stand at his bedside. A heart rate monitor was clipped to his finger, the cord plugged into a screen with a green line bouncing up and down. Naomasa could see the bulge of bandages under the faded blue blankets.

Toshinori’s breathing was raspy, dragged along his throat, but at least he was breathing. His skin was pale, but the monitor beeped with a reassuring consistency.

He was alive.

Three days after Toshinori’s transfer he developed an infection. A bone splinter from his rib had embedded itself in the muscle of his torso and slipped past the surgeries. Naomasa had to watch his friend suffer through fevers and chills. It was hard for Toshinori to breathe. His lungs seemed to shudder with every breath, the air rushing past his throat with a jagged wheeze.

Those were long nights. Naomasa spent them curled in flimsy hospital chairs.

Then, a week after the battle with All For One, Toshinori woke up. The infection had been drained twice, and his body had decided that it had had enough of being asleep. His eyes were blurry, though he did seem to register where he was. Naomasa was at his bedside in an instant, gently placing his hand on Toshinori’s arm.

“Easy, Toshinori. It’s all right, you’re in the hospital.”

Toshinori blinked very slowly. “. . . mmmmnhhnmmm.”

Naomasa was happy that he could see the blue of Toshinori’s eyes. He dragged his chair over to the bed, gently leaning on the side. “You’ve been out of it for a week. Got pretty roughed up.”

“Mmmhmm.”

It was bizarre, but Naomasa gave a small laugh. “I’ll tell you more when you’ll actually remember it. But for now you’re safe - everyone’s safe.”

How much Toshinori could actually register Naomasa couldn’t tell. But he did recognize the relief in his friend’s eyes as they slipped closed into sleep.

He had to watch as the months slipped by and his friend was eaten away by pain and time. He had been strong and built before, the muscle filling in his tall frame and showing his strength even when he wasn’t using his quirk. Now he sometimes lacked the energy to hold his head up. His blue eyes were constantly surrounded by shadow.

His stomach was removed early on. They tried to save his left lung, but given the damage it had sustained as well as the general instability of his torso they had removed it as well. His breath rattled and he habitually coughed up blood and congestion from his mangled chest.

His bones knitted, his cuts healed, but the injury to his torso continued to eat his friend alive. The numerous surgeries and their many complications stretched the skin beyond being able to fully heal, the resulting scar being a gnarled mess of raised tissue and valleys of permanently discolored flesh. The ribs had healed in a warped imitation of their original form and the muscle had been so damaged that some of it had been directly removed.

The doctors said that he would improve once he had a chance to heal from all the procedures and surgeries and get on a different diet, but Naomasa knew Toshinori would never truly heal .

He still felt cold in the hospital, but he got used to it. Like hell he was going to let his friend go through this alone.

“You’ll never believe what I found!”

“Oh dear. I haven’t seen that look on your face for a long time!”

Naomasa grinned. “You remember how I was really into recording things while we stayed in that one apartment? The one with the yellow wallpaper?”

“. . . you didn’t.”

“I did!” Naomasa declared, a grin on his face as he held up several plastic-encased CD’s.

A tiny, but genuine, smile flickered across Toshinori’s face. Naomasa waved the CD’s around enticingly. “Wanna watch? I brought my laptop.”

His friend gave a small wheezing laugh. “Why not?” Naomasa gently settled next to Toshinori on the hospital bed, being careful of various cords and ignoring the way his flesh crawled at the rough texture of the hospital blanket.

The first one they watched was dated to the time when Naomasa had been studying for his final tests to be accepted onto the police force and Toshinori had been continuing his training under Gran Torino. The clip opened to a view of an plain hallway with doors leading off to either side. After a moment the younger voice of Naomasa filtered through the speakers.

“So, Toshi has been training his ass for for weeks now and finally has a while off. And, since I’m trashed from studying and my sense of self preservation has completely left my brain, I’ve decided to try something out.”

The camera made it’s way shakily to the second door on the left. After opening it and allowing some light to fall into the room and on an mass of blanket resting on a bed that was pushed against the far wall. A snore came from the lump, blond hair twitching where it could be seen poking out of the thick blanket.

“Oh gosh. He’s gonna kill me but it’ll be so worth it. Just let me-” The camera jostled a bit before coming to rest on a dresser next to the door. A younger Naomasa could be seen tiptoing over to the bed. Then, in a fairly decent impression of Torino’s voice, Naomasa boomed “ Young Toshinori, get your ass out of bed! You’re late for training! ”

The reaction was rather remarkable. Toshinori yelped and the blanket shot towards the ceiling as the muscled body underneath tried to get out of bed. Unfortunately, exhaustion and being woken in the middle of the night made the young Toshinori less than coordinated and he flopped out of bed with a clatter. Half of him made it to the floor. The other half was still draped over his bed.

For a moment everything was still, then a muffled “ Wait . . .” could be heard coming from where Toshinori had face planted into the floor. Naomasa cackled and dashed out of the room, making sure to grab the camera.

“Naomasa! Once I get my hands on you you’re gonna regret this!”

“Only if you can catch me!” The camera jostled and the video ended.

Toshinori, the one at his side, was giving a wheezing laugh. “I’d forgotten about this!”

“Yeah. I’d forgotten too. You never did catch me.”

“I’m pretty sure I fell back asleep on the floor.”

“Yeah, I can see you doing something like that.”

Toshinori was still laughing, but it started to take on a wet edge. Then he was coughing, hand pressed to his mouth. Naomasa quickly got off the bed and grabbed a towel. By the time he managed to hand it to Toshinori there was blood leaking from between his fingers. Naomasa gently rubbed Toshinori’s back as the fit continued and Toshinori coughed into the towel. A few minutes passed before, with a final shuddering wheeze, Toshinori dropped the towel from his hand to pool in his lap. It was stained with red.

Naomasa grabbed it and stood to throw it in the hamper. When he was turning back the quiet voice of Toshinori nearly didn’t reach his ears.

“. . . sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Naomasa said, sitting in the chair and pulling out another CD. “It’s not your fault and I don’t mind.”

Toshinori looked at his friend and sighed.

When Toshinori was discharged from the hospital Naomasa couldn’t be happier. The hospital and injury had chewed his friend up and spat him out, leaving him with a handicap and a shortened lifespan.

The first time Toshinori had a major attack Naomasa was with him, thankfully. He had picked up his friend and dashed to the closest emergency room, holding his coughing friend and not noticing the blood that was leaking through the thin material of his shirt. All the medical personnel could do was give Toshinori a morphine drip, which turned out to be nearly useless.

Then Naomasa, for a moment or two, hated hospitals.

Still, Toshinori healed as well as he could, went back to work, and life moved on. He still had the major attacks, the bad days, and Naomasa couldn’t always be there.

The police detective decided to see a therapist after a while.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate what doctors and nurses and emergency staff do, but I still can’t get rid of the feeling of fear, or maybe distaste. I’ve hated hospitals a time or two actually, despite never requiring their service personally.”

She sat across from him, legs crossed as she leaned back in her chair. “Do you have anyone close to you that had a bad experience with hospitals? Or maybe this feeling comes from when you broke your arm when you were younger.”

“I don’t really think it’s from that, but I wouldn’t rule it out.” Naomasa leaned on his knees. “I do have a friend, a close friend who’s like a brother to me in more ways than one, and he’s been in and out of hospitals for the past six months. He got in a pretty nasty accident.”

“Is he doing alright?”

Naomasa snorted. “He says he is, but I can tell that he’s not.”

“Can you tell me some details? It’s all right if you don’t want to - I want to hear more about your reaction to everything moreso than the actual accident.”

“Sure, sure. It . . . it was a pretty bad car accident. I was with him. The ambulance was short staffed because of a fire nearby, so I had to help on the way to the hospital. It was . . . bad. Quite a few doctors said that he shouldn’t have been able to survive. I visited whenever I could. Before, he was really strong and a bit of a fitness nut, actually. Then, after the accident, he lost so much weight and he’s tired all the time. He loved his job, but can’t work as long as he wants to now. It was a big change, and he’s going to have to deal with the results of the injuries and the surgeries for the rest of his life.”

She listened attentively, and understanding sparked in her eyes. “I think I see, actually.”

“See what?”

“Your friend went into the hospital injured, but still as you knew him. Now, in the post-hospital setting, he’s different in appearance and, from what you told me, lifestyle. It seems, at least to me, that you partially blame the hospital for not being able to do more .”

Naomasa looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “It was a pretty serious accident, and I don’t think that I blame them for not being able to heal him completely.”

“Are you sure? We’ve talked about this in past sessions - the way the feeling of the hospital in non-positive situations seems to not be connected to anything. Now, however, there’s a reason for that.”

“Listen, I’m just happy that he’s alive.”

“But he’s not the same. It’s natural to be angry - even as a police officer you can’t force him to heal beyond what he can. Hospitals are where people heal and recover, and you feel that they failed in their job when it comes to this important person in your life. So, that’s where the anger comes from. You also understand that the incident that your friend went through was, at least from what you told me, extremely debilitating and that there wasn’t much they could do beyond keeping him alive and bringing him up to the best point possible. So, you feel guilty for feeling angry. You’re also extremely happy that your friend survived, which is due to the efforts of hospital staff. You feel guilty, again, about being angry that the best efforts of the people who saved your friend’s life weren’t enough to bring him back to how he was before the accident. No wonder you feel confused.”

“Well . . .” Naomasa started to say something, but it died on his tongue as something clicked into place in his head.

“That doesn’t quite square up with the fact that you’ve been feeling uncomfortable in hospitals for as long as you can remember, but it does do something to explain the way you’re feeling now. It’s alright to feel that way, and even if you never quite figure out why, you know and appreciate what medical staff do. I wouldn’t be too worried, detective.”

The fight at Kamino Ward years later filled him with well-earned anxiety. As soon as the dust had settled and the media had been shooed away for the police and government officials to clear the scene, he sprinted to where he had last seen All Might.

He found his friend sitting on a piece of rubble, breathing heavily and bleeding, but alive. All Might was alone, having waved all the field medics and other heros away, saying that the people in the rubble of the decimated city blocks needed them more. As Naomasa knelt in front of the hero he placed a gentle hand on Toshinori’s shoulder, giving it a grip and mentally thanking anyone who was listening that this wasn’t like last time.

“Hey there, big guy.”

It took a moment for Toshinori to register the touch and words. His blue eyes flicked up from the ground between his feet and stared up into the worried face of his friend. His smile was a ghost of itself and he seemed oblivious to the trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“Hey.”

“How’re you feeling?”

The hero looked down at his right arm and his shoulder twitched, as though he was trying to move it. Confusion flickered across his face and his voice was quiet and wavy.

“I think I broke my arm.”

Naomasa gave weary smile. “That’s okay. You’re gonna get fixed up, alright? First, though, we gotta get you up outta this pit.”

“I don’t . . . don’t think I can walk very far. I’m tired.”

“I know, buddy. Here - let me help.”

Naomasa gently slipped under Toshinori’s comparatively healthy left arm, placing it across his shoulders and slipping his right hand around Toshinori’s waist to grip his belt. They both stood at the same time, Toshinori leaning against his friend like a crutch and trying to keep his arm still. Toshinori felt lightheaded briefly as they caught their balance - Naomasa was quite a bit shorter and had to adapt to Toshinori’s height - but then everything faded back to the gray of a post-fight adrenaline crash.

Their first few steps were uncertain, but Naomasa was determined and soon they were staggering towards the edge of the crater created by the battle. Naomasa could feel some blood leaking through the right side of his jacket, but he couldn’t risk moving any faster.

All Might stumbled and suddenly Tiger was there, gently wrapping his arm and some soft tendrils around Toshinori’s mangled body. His deep voice was soothing. “Don’t push yourself - I’ve got you.”

The older hero looked at him in exhausted shock. “What about the people in the rubble?”

“I was coming back from helping some of them to the emergency medical tents. You aren’t taking any time from them, I promise.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The odd trio made it to where tents and areas for medical evacuations had been hastily set up. As they were walking through the single row the injured civilians and some medical staff looked at All Might, their faces streaked with dust. The talk and rustling of supplies stilled as the trio reached the halfway point. It became quiet enough that they unconsciously stopped walking, standing in the middle of the pathway.

Then, in the silence, someone started clapping.

It grew quickly, till most everyone they could see was clapping and looking at Toshinori. Some people were crying, tears cutting through dirt and grime. Others shouted their thanks. Everyone was smiling.

Toshinori seemed confused, sagging between the two people who supported him. “What are they-”

Naomasa shifted under Toshinori’s arm and Tiger gave an amused chuckle. “That is for you , All Might.”

“For .. .” Toshinori looked around with amazement in his blue eyes, smile still plastered to his face. Naomasa gave a grin.

Then, of all things, Toshinori started to cry. It wasn’t dramatic or attention grabbing. His eyes crinkled a bit and tears gathered at the edges. His smile wavered for a moment then became heartwarming in its sincerity. The battered hero stood a little taller and gave a shaky thumbs-up with his left hand.

The thankful cheers followed them to the end of the tent row, where a helicopter was waiting to take Toshinori to yet another hospital. As Naomasa was helping his injured friend onto the gurney that would transport him he saw fresh tear tracks making their way through the blood and grime on All Might’s drawn face.

This time Naomasa couldn’t go directly with his friend to the hospital. He had to stay behind, making sure that All For One was properly detained and that there was no remaining trace of the other villains that they hadn’t been able to pin down. The people dragged from the rubble were all evaluated, some sent on emergency vehicles to nearby medical centers. By the time he was given permission to leave the scene he went directly to his office to file away what had happened. He fell asleep at his office desk, lamp shining on his head and a pen held loosely in his hand.

Sometime in the night someone draped his coat over his shoulders.

He was granted a few days of leave the next evening and the moment he was out of the station he was taking a cab to Toshinori’s hospital, the stars outside flickering past the car window. Gran Torino had to vouch for him at the front desk, but other than that it was fairly simple to make his way to Toshinori’s room.

The room was quiet and dark, curtains pulled across the windows and the sharp smell of antiseptic floating on the air. A moment of painful deja vu flitted across his memory, but those were worse times and right now he just wanted to see his friend.

There was a wrap of bandages around his head, and his right arm was encased in a cast. The familiar sound of a heart monitor quietly beeped in the corner as Toshinori slept. Naomasa dimly took note of the faint wrinkles at the corners of Toshinori’s eyes and the exhausted slope of his mouth.

Naomasa shook his head and pulled the chairs together, grabbing spare blankets and pillows to create a makeshift cot. He didn’t lay down just yet, though. Instead he sat next to Toshinori’s bedside and gently grabbed his friend’s left hand. His voice was quiet and relieved.

“Don’t worry, Toshinori. I’ll be right here.”

Headcannon that Naomasa and Toshinori were childhood friends and they were both giant Movie Nerds.

I’ve had this up on AO3 for a while, and didn’t realize until a few days ago that I had only put up a link on tumblr. So, yeah. Here it is.

Thank you for reading!!

#all might #toshinori yagi #naomasa tsukauchi #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #nothing ever good #forged fanfiction

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