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samplepsychadelic · 4 months

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getting a spritual kick in the nuts on NY. 5g shrooms (1/1/24)

(missing pictures)

for the last month of 2023, I was feeling a call for a heroic dose shroom trip. I practically jumped at the opportunity, buying 7 grams of jedi from my usual shop, planning out a time, place and setting. I was granted an opportunity to be alone at my mom's house to dog-sit, of course I took the offer (though I didn't really have a choice otherwise).

fast-forward to new year's eve, my sister, kip, had come over to share a bottle of champagne and watch tv. I asked him to trip-sit for me, which he agreed. kip had trip-sat me a few times previously and was surprisingly quite skilled at it. we both headed to bed around 9pm.

my sister had gone back to our apartment early in the morning, and so my preparation began. I outlined my intentions and contingencies I needed in case things went south. I had kip's number readily available on my phone, cartoons on standby on the television, and had no plans to go anywhere. looking at my 7 grams of capsules, I felt apprehension. I had been feeling a looming sense of slight anxiety towards this trip, due to the high dose and strain I had little experience with; one of my handful of mistakes when going into this trip. I decided to listen to instinct and cut the dose down to 5.5 grams (a smart choice on my end).

I lay on the couch for about 30 minutes after taking the capsules, preparing myself for whatever was about to come. that small, persistent voice of uncertainty had found its way into my thoughts again, repeating “what if something goes wrong?”. I tried my hardest to sideline this thought, though I probably should have investigated the source of it rather than simply ignore it.

I managed to calm myself down right as the mushrooms hit, though now I was slightly anxious about the nausea I was experiencing. I told myself over and over “it's alright, just relax and let things pass. there's no need to fight it, that will make things worse” I slowly calmed down enough to survey my, strangely familiar, surroundings. I started to feel a sense of unfamiliarity with my surroundings and sensory input, though I couldn't place why they all felt as though I'd seen it before. had I seen this before? I tried not to worry too much about it, still aware of myself and what I had taken.

the visuals began to intensify. everything was in motion: the floor was a flowing liquid trapped underneath a see-through solid. the christmas tree's plastic branches and needles all waved as if being moved by an unseen wind, even patterns themselves all flowed and warped incomprehensibly the more I looked at them. I remember thinking to myself “huh, so those shroom visual replication videos are accurate after all,”. though still, that voice in the back of my mind continued to sow uncertainty into my mind no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. even though things were still good, I decided to give my sister a call and asked him to come over, feeling that small anxiety-riddled thought peek through. luckily for me, he has the day off due to the holiday and told me he would come over. he also told me that our mom was going to be coming home soon, around 1:30. I needed to get out of here, but there was nothing I could do right now as I was alone. I didn't let this cause panic, I had other things to focus on at the moment, fractals and kaleidoscopic patterns clouded my peripheral vision.

I closed my eyes and focused on what I was seeing. I've had complex closed eye visuals before, but what I was experiencing in that moment was beyond words, I remember thinking those words to myself. complex shimmering gold and white tubing covered in an eye-adjacent patterning, every few seconds shifting into something else entirely. for some reason, even though I had wanted to break through, I fought to keep my eyes open. I wasn't sure why I was resisting so hard, I was enjoying the patterns and impossible shapes.

I remember closing my eyes again and becoming part of a hexagonal grid; solid black with a slight purple tint and rainbow outlining each hexagon. I fell into place perfectly in sync with the others. “what does this have to do with my set intentions? is there a meaning to this?”, I thought to myself, attempting to try and connect dots that weren't there. “it doesn't matter anymore. focus on what's happening now,” the hexagon next to me telepathically gave me a gentle scolding. this time, even when I opened my eyes, I would always find myself back on this grid. every time drifting back into my designated place.

I hear the door to the garage open and shut, bringing me back to my body. my sister had arrived, the dogs were outside so he let them in (a bit of context, my mom has 2 dogs: a pyrenees (pop) and a pekingese + shih tzu mix (tucker)). I got off the couch to come greet him, which made pop jump up on me. keep in mind, he's taller than me and when he jumps he puts his paws on my shoulders. of course, being under the influence and having a 120lb dog jump on me knocks me back a touch. the two dogs look very strange to me, tucker's fur was flowing backwards and pop, just for a short moment, was green and had an extra leg. below is a gross approximation of what I mean, I’m no painter but it gets my point across.

I sat back down on the couch with my sister as he put on a cooking show to watch. the best way to describe what the TV looked like to me is an AI generated video. the resolution was somehow both lower and higher at the same time, with people on the screen having very defined outer edges to their shape yet missing textures and details. we didn't watch TV for very long; I don't think we got through even a single episode of the show he had put on. instead, I was asked to start gathering my things so we could go home. getting up, let alone walking while the floor melts under you is already a difficult task, not to mention I had to go upstairs to grab my things. I somehow managed to make it up the stairs despite them wobbling beneath me. and, albeit very slowly, started to gather my clothes. once I had everything, we hopped in the car and headed home. I had my earbuds in listening to music for the 15-minute drive. my favorite song at the moment was 13 minutes long, so I didn't have to fuss with the music much.

I very much enjoyed being in the car while I was peaking, everything was shifting, warping, disappearing and reappearing. the dashboard was green and bubbling as if it were a liquid. for the first half of the ride, however, I was starting to worry I had gotten stuck in a time loop, we passed the same stoplights multiple times (or so I believed, the road we were on has many very similar stoplight placements) and I even made sure to make note of what buildings we were passing. I was relieved when we didn't pass them a second time. it was strange, everything seemed as if I had seen it before, but I could swear I hadn't. it was as if my consciousness had been replaced by someone else, someone new who had never been in this reality before. was I dead? how could I be dead and alive at the same time? I tried not to let the experience bother me. I knew it was a pretty common effect of mushrooms. I drew my attention towards the window. watching cars pass in front of us while we were stopped was intriguing, they looked more futuristic, their tires having no rims and not even touching the frame. the cars left trails behind them as they passed, I wondered how fast they were going. even the car my sister and I were in was entirely different. instead of black, it became mostly a cream-white, with red and blue accents as well as yellow star accents. it was no longer a car, it was a comet, a bringer of both light and afterlife, but what was it doing here? I didn't let it bother me. I didn't die, I knew I wasn't going to die, I would be home soon.

we finally arrived at the apartment building, much to my disappointment (I wanted to be in the car for a little longer). I, again, was very slow to gather my things and head towards the stairs. the texture of the sidewalk below me was morphing and swirling in a way that was beautiful, in a sense. we live on the third floor, so the stairs were slightly more difficult this time, even sober, I get winded going up them. following kip felt like being led by a stranger to a place you've never been, however not in a negative sense. as we got through our door, I headed straight to my room to, finally, lay down again.

it wasn't long before kip came into my room and asked if I wanted to go to the store with him. of course, I declined as I wasn't willing to trip in public, that would not have ended well for either of us, especially on such a high dose. he asked if it would be okay for him to go by himself, and, while not really able to pay attention to what was happening, I told him it was okay. this was one mistake I had made on my part that had led to my downfall at the end of the trip.

kip said to call if I needed anything and left. I decided to close my eyes and put some music on again. I started having the same problem as earlier, resisting closing my eyes for too long. I started to get anxious. kip had been gone for a while and I was still tripping. the anxiety worsened, was I going to be high forever? why has it not worn off by now? where is kip? at this point I had started to lose control of the situation, I was completely freaked out. in a panic, I tried to give kip a call, no answer. I try again, no answer. I text him asking where he is, no answer. I cried. I needed to talk to someone, anyone. I gave my grandparents a call, of course, they didn't answer. I ended up calling my mom, who, thankfully, picked up. she and her boyfriend were driving home from somewhere, so I was able to talk to both of them. however, I had to be very particular about what I did and did not mention. ironically, my mom had given me a “don't do drugs” spiel on christmas eve. instead, I said I was anxious because I felt sick which, admittedly, wasn't a lie. I just needed to talk to someone. they talked to me for awhile, as I listened while sobbing and panicked. I didn't know who I was, where I was or what was happening, I was scared and alone. I just wanted kip to come home. eventually, my grandpa had called me back, I ended my call with my mom and talked with him instead. I was still very upset, and it didn't seem like I would calm down unless kip came home.

finally, after about 30 or so minutes, kip called me. I immediately answered. he asked me if I was okay, I answered with a very upset and tearful “nooo….”. everything was still morphing and shifting, the floor was still moving, and the kinetic sand I was playing with still spiraled infinitely into fractals. I never thought I would feel so afraid of seeing fractals. kip told me he was on his way home, which helped alleviate some anxiety. I asked him about 3 or 4 times when he would be home as I watched the minutes on my phone pass slowly.

after a very long and tear-filled 10 minutes, I finally saw kip's car pull into his parking spot. his car seemed to clip into another car as he reversed, I had to ask him afterward if the cars I saw there were even real. I watched him get out from my window and waved to him, he waved back. I was happy to see him come home, I had been alone for what felt like multiple hours (it was in fact 1 hour). he and I hung out in my room for awhile, long enough for me to calm down and stop crying. luckily, I was coming down and, subtly, everything had stopped moving and gone back to normal. I felt like my consciousness was suddenly thrust back into my body, where it belonged. it took a good hour of getting used to being me again, I was having intense tunnel vision and still felt slightly displaced.

while I did make a few very disastrous mistakes during this trip- being moved while peaking, my trip sitter leaving and resisting the trip- I feel like overall this was a positive experience. it was extremely good, then extremely bad, then fine. and while I most likely won't be repeating this experience soon, I feel like there's still more for me to learn from psychedelics, and I plan on doing so with more respect for them than I had before this trip.

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hale-13 · 3 years

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The Trouble with Tabloids

By Hale13 for @jenniboo311

“Oh look at this, this is a good one: ‘Some suggest that Parker’s powers include the male spider’s ability to hypnotize females.”

“Stop, c’mon,” Peter says back, slightly irritated at her teasing.

“Yes my Spider-Lord,” MJ says, dropping her voice in pitch and, against his will he starts chuckling. It makes him feel lighter and calmer and warm.

“Can we just like sit up here all day? It is so crazy down there.”

MJ hums and flicks over to the next page, still skimming. “I mean we could,” she says, neutral. “But would it really help anything?”

MJ reads the Daily Bugle and Peter is an nervous mess about returning to school after his identity is reveled to the world.

Words: 5313, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Relationships: Peter Parker/Michelle Jones, Peter & May, Peter & Ned

Read on AO3 or below line break

“Does any part of you feel relieved about all this?” Michelle is curled up on her side, the half priced Christmas twinkle lights she picked up off a dusty shelf when they went thrift shopping a few months ago hung up haphazardly behind her. They make the edges of her hair glow red and throw strange and beautiful shadows across her face. Peter is almost too distracted looking at her to register her question.

“What do you mean?” His voice quiet and questioning. His living room is completely dark – his face lit only by his phone screen where he holds is just above his chest.

MJ’s face scrunches a little and she readjusts her head on the pillow, a few stray fractals of light bouncing off the broken black dahlia necklace and painting rainbows onto the wall and ceiling. “Now that everybody knows you don’t really have to hide or lie to people.”

Peter feels his hackles rise just a little at that comment but he’s too tired and burnt out to really be upset. He feels like he’s been fighting for years even though its only been a few weeks since Beck outed him to the world. His head pulsates with the starts of a headache and he just sighs. “For the record,” despite his desire to sound neutral his voice has a bit of an edge, “I never wanted to lie to you. But how do you tell someone that you’re Spider-Man?”

MJ hums noncommittally, it’s the sound she makes when she disagrees or has strong feelings about something in particular but doesn’t feel like arguing – he’s sure it will come up later and that her opinion will probably be correct. It makes him feel thankful and pissed simultaneously but he takes a deep breath and tries to let it go. Anger seems to be his default emotion these days. Anger and frustration and a dash of hopelessness. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” MJ asks, changing the subject abruptly and Peter settles a little more firmly into the ancient couch that May picked up from one of their neighbors. It groans under him.

“Sure,” he replies with a bit of a crooked smile that he can tell doesn’t reach his eyes – the little image in the bottom of his screen that shows his reflection makes him look pale and washed out and so so tired. No wonder May had been hovering so much recently. “I’ve always wanted to try and balance being a well known vigilante while going to high school.”

MJ chuckles and gives him a fond smile. The school year technically started a few weeks ago but Peter has been on unofficial home arrest while the NYPD and FBI and the freaking UN sorted out what to do with him. The unaltered footage from EDITH along with the character witness statements and testimonials from Happy and the newly returned to Earth Nick Fury (shape-shifting aliens what the fuck?) made it clear quickly that he was innocent but just opened the door for a whole host of other problems.

Like a large portion of conspiracy theorists still saying he killed Beck and that the government was covering it up. Or the fact that his address had gotten leaked and people had camped outside with signs or support or hatred and he and May had needed to move somewhere new. Or how Ned had been accosted by a crazy Fox News journalist on his way home from school one day.

That had made Peter see red and it was only May and Happy taking his web-shooters and phone and nearly restraining him that kept him from leaving to do something he would probably (maybe) regret later.

Jimmy Woo, the FBI agent over his case, had advised him to just lay low while the local and worldwide organizations hashed everything out. Peter was still too young to sign the Sokovia Accords but they couldn’t have him running around and ‘causing untold destruction’ in other countries. And, well, the NYPD still wasn’t his biggest fan when it came to the low-to-the-ground and neighborhood problems he liked to deal with.

As it was, he was now allowed to continue being Spider-Man in New York City but he would need special permission from local governments to act anywhere else. This suited Peter just fine; he would rather not leave home anytime soon after his last ‘vacation’ and Spider-Man was a Queens hero anyway. The clock on his phone ticked over to one in the morning just as his battery bar turned red.

“Hey,” Michelle said, pulling his attention back to her. She gave him a tired smile and pulled her blanket up higher on her shoulder. “We’ll be there with you the whole time.”

“I know,” Peter whispered, fingering the stitching of the t-shirt he had stolen from his girlfriend and was wearing. It still had just a bit of her scent that he could probably only pick up due to his enhanced senses and it made his chest feel a little full. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You will,” MJ said, ending the call and leaving Peter alone. The shadows that stretched across the walls from his dim phone light looked foreboding and he stared at them until his screen went dim. He really should get up and go to bed. He should pack his book bag. He should definitely charge his phone.

Instead, Peter creeps to his room and shimmies into his suit, jumping out his window into the cool night. ———————————————

Peter crawled back through his window just before his alarm goes off at six, tired and sweaty and still freaking out a little but feeling marginally better now that some of his nervous energy was gone. May is sitting at their little kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee in her robe and looking just as exhausted as he feels. He can tell she knows that he’s been out all night but he’s thankful she chooses not to say anything as he makes his walk of shame to their cramped single bathroom to shower.

When he emerges about twenty minutes later with damp hair and layered up in his favorite flannel shirt and a plain white t-shirt May has brewed another pot of coffee and has a stack of toast and jam on the table and his heart clenches. Toast and jam has always been his go-to for mornings where his anxiety is at an all time high and his stomach is twisting and he wraps his arms around May’s shoulders from behind in a fierce hug and tucks his face into her neck like he’s a little kid again. May gives him a kiss on the temple and lets him soak in some comfort from her before she shoos him over to his seat to eat.

They both sit in silence; Peter munching on his toast and drinking black coffee full of sugar to perk him up and May nursing her own cup and staring at the wall. May’s knee bumps against his when she scoots a little closer and he can feel a little bit more of the tension leak out of him – as long as he still has her he’s okay. No matter what happens with school and Spider-Man and the Avengers he has May.

“I’m so proud of you,” May tells him a few minutes later as he’s chewing on his last piece of toast and Peter can feel the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes but he refuses to cry. He sniffs and coughs, choking on emotion and May scoots her chair over more to pull him into a hug and he just lets himself be held for a minute.

“I love you,” he tells her, leaning into the hug for just another second before pulling away. May smiles, her own eyes watery and she fidgets with his hair, smoothing out the wild curls and fixing his collar. He knows she hears everything else he’s trying to say: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t want this.

“I love you too,” she says; It’s okay, its not your fault. “I have the next week off so if you need me for anything – and I mean anything – I want you to call me okay? I’ll come get you.”

Peter nods even though he would never call her to come bail him out and goes to the sink to rinse his cup and brush the crumbs off his plate. “I know May and I will, I promise.” Liar. The knock at the door interrupts them and Peter glances at the clock; its later than he thought. May bites her lip like she’s waffling on saying more but relents and goes to answer it. He can hear her greeting MJ and Ned, can hear the brushing of clothes as she hugs them both and Peter takes just a moment for himself. He closes his eyes and takes a fortifying breath – in through his nose and out through his mouth – and straightens his spine, squares his shoulders.

He can do this.

And he’s does. He’s fine as he slinks out of his building (the first time leaving as Peter Parker since his arrest and meeting with multiple government organizations and moving) and down the steps to slide into Happy’s car with Ned and MJ on either side of him. Ned is wearing the ridiculous letterman jacket from Acadec that he spent way too much money on and MJ is wearing a dark blazer he’s never seen before but instantly loves. He would probably love everything she wore to be honest.

“Hey kid,” Happy says. He looks completely unruffled in his usual dark suit and tie but Peter can hear his heart beating faster than usual as he double and triple checks his mirrors before pulling away from the curb. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Peter says but his voice is all wrong and he clears his throat to try to get rid of the lump that’s formed there unsuccessfully. Michelle slips her hand in his and squeezes tightly and Ned presses their sides together in a quick moment of support on his other side.

Ned’s phone buzzes against Peter’s leg and he fishes it out, unlocking it and reading through the message before typing a short reply. “Flash is meeting us out front,” he says. And that, probably, had been the biggest surprise from this whole identity reveal mess but it probably shouldn’t have been. When they had come back from the blip, fifteen kids out of their class of forty-three, they had come to an understanding.

The apology and forgiveness had gone unsaid between them but, suddenly, Flash wasn’t as terrible to be around. There was still some ribbing and snarky commentary but nothing to the intensity of before. No more ‘Penis Parker’ no tripping him in the halls or pushing him into lockers like before.

If the Blip had done one thing it was reset everyone’s preconceived notions and priorities.

After Beck had released his heavily doctored video, Flash had practically beat down Ned’s door and asked how he could help. With his large Twitter, Instagram and TikTok following, he had been able to help get the word out about local protests and had been the person behind #NY❤️sSpidey and #PeterParkerisInnocent trending on twitter for multiple days.

Peter had uninstalled all social media from his phone weeks ago to protect his sanity and had basically only been texting May, MJ, Ned and Happy but he really appreciated the sentiment and had dropped in on Flash when he was in the park the other day as Spider-Man to say a quick ‘thank you’ as he patrolled. Flash had looked stunned and excited in equal measure but had offered a scoff and a fist bump that Peter gladly returned before swinging off.

“Well shit,” Happy muttered as he turned into Midtown drawing Peter out of his thoughts.

The school was a madhouse – news trucks were lining the perimeter, their cameras and newscasters being careful to not step onto school property and under close watch from the scattering of NYPD and SRO on the scene. That was fine, they had expected that.

What Peter had not expected, what no one had prepared for, was the literal mob of protestors with signs and banners and t-shirts screaming and chanting behind a series of guardrails that fringed the path up to the school. His classmates were walking up the path mostly unmolested and filming and taking pictures, some of them lingering around the front entrance or on the steps or surrounding lawn as they watched in fascination. A couple were enthusiastically talking to a cluster of cameras and reporters near the subway entrance.

“How did they know I was coming back to school today?” Peter asks, mouth and throat dry and making his voice croak.

“Someone must have slipped it,” MJ says, not sounding surprised. There had been a school wide assembly the Friday before where Principal Morita had announced Peter’s imminent return and had put some ground rules in place – don’t treat him like a zoo animal, no crowding the halls, no harassment – but Peter didn’t really expect anyone to listen. He’d had his own meeting with May and Morita via Zoom a couple weeks before to hammer out the details of his continued education at Midtown and his tardy and absence policy. The man has assured him that he would do everything he could to keep Peter’s school experience as normal as possible which had bolstered May’s confidence but Peter had known it was more of an empty promise than anything else.

“It’s fine Pete,” Ned said. “They can’t do anything to us.”

Happy met his eyes in the rear view mirror and raised a questioning brow and Peter gave a shake of his head. He wasn’t going to back out now, besides, the car had been spotted and multiple cameras were pointed in his direction and the mob was screaming and waving their signs even more aggressively now.

Happy pulled to a slow stop in front of the path and put the car in park. “I can have them removed if you want,” he offered. “Or find a back entrance? You don’t have to deal with them Pete.”

Peter looked at the crowd again and gnawed at his already ragged lip. “It’s okay. It’ll just make it worse if I try to avoid them.”

Happy muttered something about self-flagellation under his breath with a fond eye roll but didn’t fight him. “Just don’t say anything,” he advises. “Don’t look at them and don’t say anything. Just keep walking until you’re in the school okay? I’ll be here right at four-thirty to pick you up after decathlon.”

“Thanks Happy,” Peter says, trading seats with Michelle so that he’ll be the first to emerge from the car and tightening his backpack straps. He wishes he had his red and black suit with him instead of the Iron Spider in its housing units on his wrists – the weight, minuscule as it is, is always comforting on his back. He wishes he was wearing his mask. He wishes he could just be plain Peter Parker again. He takes a deep, fortifying breath and opens the door.

The angry roar of the crowd when they see him nearly deafens him and he fights the urge to cover his ears and protect his sensitive hearing. Flash materializes out of nowhere to stand staunchly at his side as MJ slips out of the car, clearly nervous but ignoring the mass of people and grabbing his hand. “Nice hair Eugene,” she teases as Ned joins them and closes the door. Flash rolls his eyes at her and pushes his shockingly blonde fringe out of his eyes.

“You wish you could pull this off,” he offers in response and her smile becomes more genuine at the ribbing.

“Maybe red,” she muses, adjusting her own bag on her shoulder before she starts to walk up the sidewalk.

The path is only wide enough for them to walk two by two and MJ pulls him closer and holds his hand tighter as they face the school. Peter tries to ignore the signs and screams as he walks resolutely toward the door but he can’t completely block them out, especially after seeing a blown up copy of his year book photo with devil horns calling him a murderer. The woman holding it, wearing a t-shirt with a similar message and a button with Mysterio’s helmet on it, spews even more vitriol when she sees him look her direction. Her face is red and angry and Peter redirects his attention back to the school.

His classmates crowd the stairs and most of them have their phones out to livestream him coming to school. He feels like a bug pinned under glass and he can feel his breath speed up in his chest but he tries not to show it. Ben had always told him that he was an open book and that anyone could read his every thought on his face. It had been funny back then but now Peter just wishes that it was anything but true.

It, unfortunately, doesn’t get any better inside. The halls are lined with curious teenagers and teachers alike who all watch him walk down the hall and film him and get way too close for comfort. Morita had told him that he can’t, technically, enforce the no phone rule before school officially starts for the day and after it ends so Peter will have to deal with it.

His locker is also, unfortunately, down a completely different hall than Ned, MJ and Flash’s so they have to separate if they plan on being on time for home room. He’ll meet Ned there but he won’t see the other two until second period and he has first period, APUSH, completely alone. It’s almost enough to send him over the edge.

“I can walk with you,” Ned offers, adjusting his bag but Peter just shakes his head. He can do this. He has to do this.

The heckling gets worse once the others leave and his classmates get bolder – pushing into his space and taking selfies with him and asking invasive questions. He’s never been popular and he’s always been ignored and its just getting to be too much but at least he understands why some celebrities go off the deep end and straight up punch paparazzi now.

He makes quick work of getting his locker open and stowing his extra notebooks and gym bag before hassling in the direction of his home room. Ned meets up with him halfway there, a little out of breath from clearly rushing to meet him and pushing through the crowd, and the groupies back off a little once he’s around and forming a barrier between them and Peter. Ms. Warren glances at them from her desk when they enter and her eyes linger on Peter a little longer than normal but she otherwise ignores them and Peter feels honestly faint in relief.

“Dude,” Ned tells him as he slips into the seat to Peter’s right at the scratched up black lab table. Peter groans and drops his head onto his crossed arms, not really knowing how to respond. “At least you have Dell for APUSH – he won’t put up with any shit in his class.”

“Yeah,” Peter responds. “Lucky.”

Ned winces and goes to say something else but the bell rings and the school morning newscast starts playing on the TV. Ms. Warren turns it up just as Betty Brant says “This morning our very own Midtown Avenger joined us back in classes. In case you missed it, Jason and I were live on the scene for his-,”

Peter crammed his headphones in and turned on the white noise to drown out the sound of the newscast and pointedly ignored Ned’s sympathetic looks and Ms. Warren who looked at his headphones in blatant disapproval but didn’t ask him to take them out. Thank God.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he peeked at the message coming through – a single eye rolling emoji from MJ followed by Must be a slow news day. He smiled despite himself and tucked the phone back away just as the bell rang.

His first class alone was a nightmare – Mr. Dell had assigned them all seats and had put Peter front and center in what was, probably, an effort to keep his classmates for hassling him too much and keep everyone’s attention on what he was teaching and not on Peter. It didn’t really work since people kept taking sneaky Snapchat pictures and videos of him under their desks when Mr. Dell’s back was turned. Peter set his jaw and tried to ignore it but he knew he would have to borrow Ned’s notes if he even hoped at passing the class.

His AP English class was a little better since he had both Ned and MJ with him but Mr. Harrington who was, arguably, his favorite teacher and one that had, apparently, really gone to bat for him against the PTO and school board so that he could keep his scholarship and go to school, was a little oblivious. His classmates were even more bold and blatant and he was clenching his jaw so much he thought his teeth might break.

“Come with me,” MJ said, pulling him out of his desk right as the bell rang and rushing out the door.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked, stumbling after her as she pulled him toward one of the stock rooms, pushing him in and closing and locking the door behind them.

“To the roof,” she answered, standing on an overturned bucket to open up the small window. Peter blinked in surprise.

“But you have art this hour.”

“And you have a free period,” MJ said like it was obvious, hopping off the bucket and herding him to the window. “Ms. Goode loves me anyway so she won’t care if I miss a class. Hurry up and get sticky.”

Peter let out a bark of a laugh and climbed up the wall, pulling Michelle through the window after him and carefully avoiding the classrooms and front of the building until they reached the roof. The sun was bright and warm on his skin and he laid on his back just reveling in the silence. “This is nice,” he said, catching the book MJ dropped before it hit his stomach without opening his eyes and positioning it behind his head as a pillow. She settled in next to him, rustling with some paper and he cracked open one eye to glance at her. “What is that?”

“The Daily Bugle,” she answered, flicking through a couple pages and skimming the words, ignoring as Peter choked on his own saliva and fell into a coughing fit.

“You’re actually reading that garbage? You know what they’re saying about me right? Jameson keeps calling me a ‘Spider-Menace like that even makes sense-.”

“It’s actually pretty hilarious,” she said interrupting his tirade and stopping her flicking to read through a page. “Oh look at this, this is a good one: ‘Some suggest that Parker’s powers include the male spider’s ability to hypnotize females.”

“Stop, c’mon,” Peter says back, slightly irritated at her teasing.

“Yes my Spider-Lord,” MJ says, dropping her voice in pitch and, against his will he starts chuckling. It makes him feel lighter and calmer and warm.

“Can we just like sit up here all day? It is so crazy down there.”

MJ hums and flicks over to the next page, still skimming. “I mean we could,” she says, neutral. “But would it really help anything?”

Peter sighs and flops over on his stomach to beat his head gently into the book. “Probably not.” His stomach growls and he sighs – at least lunch is next. MJ’s hand skims down his neck to sit in the small of his back.

“I can think of something that could take your mind off it,” she says lightly and Peter feels his cheeks heat just a little but rolls his head over to smirk at her.

“Do tell.”

She gives him a little smile of her own before poking him until he moves enough for her to perch on his lap. He curls block out the sun and she’s at just the perfect height for him to lean forward and pull her into kiss.

They slip back into the window of the stock room just before the bell rings to end third period with their lips swollen and their hair a little more messy than it was before but with bright smiles and less tense muscles. Peter keeps his ear to the door and waits for the hallway to clear before they slip out and make their way to the lunch room.

Both of them had brought lunch so it was easier to creep in unnoticed through the side door and join Ned and Flash in the back corner of the cafeteria. It didn’t take too long before their classmates started murmuring and pointing and, despite the numerous warnings from various administrators and the fact that five of the sophomore level teachers were seated at their own table near the front of the room, many of the students took notice of their sudden appearance and were attempting to take surreptitious pictures and videos of them on phones hidden under tables and halfway in hoodie pockets. Peter felt his ears turn red as he ducked his head closer to the table and nearly into his sandwich. MJ glared at the table closest to them and the few girls seated there at least had the decency to look ashamed though they didn’t tuck their phones away.

“So this is fun,” Flash muttered as he picked at the flavorless and congealed school spaghetti on his tray. His normal table of friends and groupies were seated a few tables away and looking at him with jealously. Awkward silence followed his deadpan grumbling and Peter shifted uncomfortably.

Michelle rolled her eyes and snorted indelicately before glancing at Peter with clear mischief in her eyes and slapping her copy of the Daily Bugle on the table before flipping it open to a page she had earmarked. Peter groaned and dropped his head to thunk on the table dramatically as MJ said “ Did you know that Peter can hypnotize females with his spider powers?”

Ned snorted so abruptly some of the water he was drinking dribbled out his nose causing him to cough and gag and Flash to thump him on the back. “Oh my God,” Ned said reverently, touching the gossip rag and cradling it like it was special as his eyes darted across the page. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen. I need to get this framed!”

Peter whined and thumped his head on the table a few more times. “Yo Parker, this says you lay eggs,” Flash pointed out, skimming the edge of the page where a bullet pointed lists of ‘Fun Facts!’ were.

“I don’t lay eggs!” Peter groaned out in dismay, giving MJ his best betrayed look. She ignored his misery as she gleefully looked at the paper upside down to read the other inaccurate facts listed about him. “This is abuse,” he muttered, trying to pull the paper away from Ned but failing as his friend dodged and Flash batted his hands away.

“Does your ability to hypnotize only work on females? What exactly is the process?” Ned teased, voice shaking in mirth. “Wait! Wait what do you make them call you? Master of the Spiders? Arachnid King?”

“Spider Lord,” MJ provided with a shit-eating grin that had Flash and Ned sputtering with laughter and drawing even more attention their way.

“Oh come on,” Peter begged. “Don’t let anyone hear you or they’ll believe it!”

“Of course Spider Lord,” Flash intoned with barely concealed glee causing Ned and MJ to cackle more.

“You’re all the worst,” Peter told them without heat. To be honest this was the best he had felt all day – he hardly noticed the extra stares and muttering anymore. The bell announcing the end of their lunch rang and he hurried to cram the rest of his sandwich in his mouth as quickly as possible; they all had to hurry since they had gym and had to change before the tardy bell rang in ten minutes.

The heckling continued up until they split off to enter different locker rooms and Peter abruptly clenched his jaw as he realized the majority of his class was not only early to class to change but also waiting in the locker room and looking busy while they waited for him. Ned shot him a wince as he ducked into one of the stalls to change. Peter could feel the eyes following him as he did the same.

“Come on Parker,” he told himself as he took a few moments to center himself. “It’s just gym. You’ve done it a hundred times. This time’s no different.” He took as much time as possible to change, only sneaking out just before the bell rang and the majority of the room emptied.

MJ had saved them seats a bit away from the rest of the class and Peter squeezed between her and Ned, taking her hand and giving it a soft squeeze. Coach Wilson, looking particularly bored, was lugging a couple bags of foam balls from the locked equipment closet and Peter felt his stomach turn with dread. He detested dodgeball.

“You know the drill,” Coach Wilson drowned from the middle of the court. “Split in half, game starts on my whistle. Not you Parker,” he called over the din of talking and scuffing tennis shoes. “New PTA rules – you can watch and do individual work but no more team or contact sports.”

Peter felt his face flush again as he lowered himself back into his seat as the class broke out into louder conversations around him. Ned clapped him on the shoulder and said “Don’t worry about it man,” and Peter opened his mouth with the intent to thank or reassure his friend that he was okay but Ned, taking advantage and wearing a smirk, loudly went directly for the kill. “Besides, its unbecoming of a Spider Lord to comport himself like one of us mere plebes.”

Flash promptly tripped down the stairs and barely caught himself from falling on his face and breaking his nose on the floor, MJ had to sit back down to get herself under control as the rest of their class just stared at them with confused looks on their faces.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” Peter told Ned seriously causing his friends to break out into laughter again. If you can’t beat ‘em right?

“You’ve been an awfully good sport about this,” MJ told him later, leaning against a neighboring locker as he packed his bag and grabbed his decathlon binder. He shot her a questioning glance as he zipped up his bag. “The Spider Lord thing. It doesn’t actually bother you right? Because Ned already changed your name in the group chat and I’d hate to hurt his feelings by changing it again.”

“No its fine,” Peter reassured her. “It’s a little funny.” He slammed his locker shut and took her hand, “We’re going to be late Captain,” he told her, walking in the direction of the library. And maybe it didn’t bother him but it didn’t stop the wheels from turning. The attention rankled and he just wanted to go back to being Peter Parker again, to be completely anonymous.

He may know a guy who could help with that – it would only take a quick trip to Bleeker Street.

#spiderman #identityrevealbingo2021 #no way home #nwh spoilers #writing prompt #spideychelle #spider lord #that feel when your friends roast you #but in a good way

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passerine-writes · 2 years

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Shindo Yo x Male!Reader

Title: What If? Genre: Angst to Fluff Warnings: Self doubt, readers second year at UA and third year at Ketsubutsu for Shindo, reader has anxiety, drama Word count: 3571

Quirk: Light Wings- You have iridescent wings allowing you to fly and manipulate light fractals at your will. You can control if the wings are out or not.

Drawbacks- Sunburn, fatigue, soreness and shortness of breath

"Will you be my boyfriend?" My heart stopped beating, Yo and I had been talking for the last few months. Nobody was thrilled that a UA student was talking to a Ketsubutsu boy, more Bakugou than anyone. Yes, Yo had his mask but he dropped it around me and his friends, always being protective of us and wanting the best for our futures. With one thought in mind I quickly nodded my head and jumped into his arms, he stumbled a bit but spun me around. I've been waiting for this day for so long, how could I say no? He took the train to visit me so he's thankfully staying the night. He set my feet back on the ground and held me in place, hands firmly plants on my hips with my arms draped over his shoulders. "Can I kiss you?" I burned a bright red and nodded once, immediately captivated in the feeling of his lips on mine. It was slow, and bristling with heat. I never knew one kiss could make me feel like this. We pulled away after a moment and he placed a kiss on my forehead before we headed back to my place.

——————

Four months into a relationship, long distance but we were making it work. Every weekend one of us would take the train over and visit unless something came up at home or it was a test week.

This was one of the weeks I couldn't go, my mom got sick and I have to take care of her. I explained it to Yo and he was understanding. He wasn't mad or anything, he was very understanding and told me to let him know if we needed anything.

So why am I sitting here crying?

My Instagram flooded with dm's, people from his school sending me the same picture of him and another girl kissing.

From Tatami: Hey, talk to Shindo about it, I know a lot of people have been sending you that picture.

Except I didn't want to talk. I just wanted to sit here and cry. So that's what I did. I ignored my phone the whole weekend, I didn't have it in me to talk about it.

Sunday came all too soon, my best friend could tell by my face alone that something was wrong. The moment he saw me walk into the dorms late that night and spring up from the couch. Figuring if I came in late enough nobody would be there but of course he would wait.

"Y/N? What happened, mariposa?" Hanta asked me, his triangle smile dropping. I just shook my head and kept walking. Well, I tried to. He blocked my way and tugged me into a hug. The waterworks started all over again as I sniveled and tried not to let any sobs escape my body. My best friend guided me to the couch and sat the both of us down. "What happened? Was it Shindo?" I meekly nodded my head in response before pulling out my phone. I clicked on Instagram and had thirty new notifications, most of which being people messaging me again.

"People from his school started messaging me, all of them sending me the same picture with a lot of different comments. I kn-knew when I came out it would be hard and people would say stuff but I’ve been ignoring my phone all weekend. I’ve just been so drained and overwhelmed I didn't know what to say."

"I get that, but maybe try talking to him before something goes further downhill. Y'know?" I nodded and felt my stomach drop, why did I have to do this? "What are you thinking about mi mariposita?"

"Why do you still call me butterfly? I thought you would grow out of that after we got to middle school." He laughed but accepted the change of topic.

"It stuck! What can I say?" I smiled for the first time this weekend and curled into his side. He hummed a tune like he always does and played with my hair, effectively coaxing me to sleep.

3rd Person POV

Sero heard your phone buzzing in your lap. He knew he shouldn't have but he grabbed it and instantly saw Shindo's name pop up with a picture of the two of you. He sighed and answered.

"Hey."

"Sero? Where's Y/N?" He sounded frantic and did his best to mask it.

"He got back to the dorms a little bit ago and just fell asleep on the couch, we had a mini therapy sesh on what happened this weekend. He's hurting a lot but I told him he should talk to you. I’ve never seen the mariposita this torn up." Hearing Sero call you a pet name set a fire in Shindo's stomach, unadulterated jealousy swimming through his veins.

"Wait why do you have his phone?"

"He fell asleep on me, gave me a hug and was out like a light."

Are you fucking kidding me. That was the only thought going through the Ketsubutsu boys brain. He knew he had no reason to be jealous, even if by chance Sero was bi. But something about you seeking comfort in someone else made his stomach twist and turn.

"Okay. Whatever, thanks bye." Shindo hung up without anything else and Sero sat there confused.

Had he said something wrong? He didn't know if something else was going on but he knew this wasn't going to be good. With a sigh he tucked your phone away and picked you up to carry you back to your dorm.

He laid you down on your bed and placed your phone on your nightstand and on the charger, double checking your alarm was set and left. Something about this felt off to him. Something just didn't feel right about this, not the situation but like it was about something else. Like something else was going on that you didn't know about and he wished that you would just message Yo. He had never seen you this happy and he knows that the third year is the cause for it.

Your POV

I rolled out of bed and got ready for my first day back, I hated Mondays but this one felt more than normal. My heart constricted and my stomach lurched when I saw more notifications.

From Buzz Buzz Boy: I wish you would just talk to me instead of going to a whole new guy

From Buzz Buzz Boy: I want to explain what happened but you won't let me

From Buzz Buzz Boy: Why can't you just text me? I know you asked Tatami what happened, she said she won't tell you because she wants us to work it out on our own

From Buzz Buzz Boy: At least open these so I know you're okay, please?

From Tatami: What happened last night? Shindo was upset and said something about another guy?

Another guy? What other guy? I'm not the one who supposedly cheated and got caught.

Are the talking about Hanta? But they know he's my best friend, why would they assume that?

I sighed and texted Tatami back saying I didn't know what she was talking about. Quickly getting ready and dragging myself out of bed. A knock sounded on my door before swinging open and revealing Hanta.

"Feeling any better?" I shrugged a little bit, not really feeling that great after the texts I had received. "Shindo called you a few times last night so I answered once just to tell him you were alive and safe."

So that's what that was about.

"It's okay, that makes sense now. Apparently he's getting jealous and thinks that I'm interested in you so that's fun."

"What? Gross! You're like a brother to me! But seriously, talk to him. You know I have my own spidey senses so please just talk to him." I shuffled out the door, the two of us starting our walk to school.

"I don't know.." He gave me a pointed look and I caved. "Fine, I'll talk to him." He slung an arm over my shoulder and got excited.

"Thank you." I lightly nodded in response as we walked into class.

To Buzz Buzz Boy: Hey, can we talk?

I tucked my phone away and sat through the miserable lecture, trying to focus through the buzzing of anxiety that was rattling my bones. I kept getting side glances and worried looks from Hanta. He knew me too well. My leg bounced uncontrollably and I couldn't focus for the life of me. After the longest six hours of my life, I trudged back to the dorms with my best friend on my trail, completely ignoring the rest of the Bakusquad to talk to me. We were the first ones back and he immediately followed me to my room. I paced the room as I allowed my thoughts to finally run rampant, Hanta stopped me in my tracks as I racked my fingers through my hair. In all honesty I hadn't even processed that he followed me into my room.

"Breathe mariposa and tell me what's wrong." My eyes darted around and he slowly grabbed my wrists, pulling them down from my scalp.

"What if it's too late? If I said something sooner and just talked to him like a normal person then I wouldn't feel like this and I wouldn't be left with this feeling of uncertainty and it's all my fault. If I just-" He pulled me into a hug, embracing me in warmth and my arms wrapped around his waist.

"What's done is done. If he knows anything about you then he won't hold it against you."

——————

Friday rolled around, albeit the worst five days of my life. But Hanta and I decided to have a sleep over like old times. My mom worked a high end job and would be out of town until Tuesday, we would stay up late watching movies, drink overly sugary drinks we shouldn't and order out with the money my mom left from when we were about nine years old. We haven't had one recently because of school and after this week we needed on.

Half way through the first movie there was a knock on the door. I got up off the couch in my blanket cocoon and saw Shindo on the other side of the door. I froze, the two of us staring at each other and I was sure I looked like shit.

"Mi mariposita, who was at the door?" Hanta came up behind me, one arm resting on the door the other gripping the door lightly. "Oh, hey Shindo." A dark look crossed over Yo's face, his eyes narrowing at the sight.

The older male turning whilst shaking his head. I rushed out and gave Hanta a nod of my head, silently telling him to go back in. The door clicked shut and I stood awkwardly on the porch. I knew I looked like crap, my hair messy and scattered, my eyes red and puffy with dark circles showing through.

"Can we talk?" My voice was shaky and weak as I stated at porch beneath my feet.

"About what? You ignore me and then I come here to talk to you about it because I know how you get just to find you with your best friend. The guy you reassured me about so many times? The guy you just made your rebound after we didn't even officially break up? Y’know what.. I'm done." He walked down the porch.

"Yo! Wait! Please."

"For what? Some excuse? I said it before L/N. I'm done. And you don't have the right to call me my given name anymore." A tear slipped down my face as he walked away.

I slid back in through the door, a fresh wave of emotions punching me in the gut. Hanta caught me in his arms and cradled my head to his chest. He was speaking spanish so I didn't understand what he was saying but it was relaxing anyways.

"I heard what happened. Let's go watch the rest of our movies. Yeah?" I weakly nodded my head as he led me over to the couch. I curled up into his side in defeat.

This is all my fault.

A few hours passed and I felt better, maybe the wrong word. Placated, I suppose would work. I was mentally and emotionally drained so I managed as best as possible. Until my phone got a notification.

From Tatami: What happened to talking things out with Shindo? He said something about another guy?

To Tatami: I tried talking to him, he showed up at my house while Hanta and I were having a movie day and assumed the worse. I couldn't really get a word in and any time I tried he cut me off and talked faster and louder. I don't know what to do at this point Tatami.

From Tatami: Jesus, I'll try and talk to him, he may not admit it but he gets insecure at times so I can see where his mind went to

To Tatami: You don't have to, I'm gonna try and talk to him tomorrow, I just hope it goes alright.

I tucked my phone away and grimaced when I saw ten Instagram notifications. Why couldn't people just leave well enough alone?

——————

The next two weeks passed by painfully, every text and phone call I got was ignored or denied. I felt like a shell. Just an empty shell floating around and bumping into interactions out of convenience. After a week, I gave up on trying to reach out. If he's really done with me then who am I to push him into something he doesn't want?

"Go see him." I stared at my best friend precariously. "I know you miss him and trying to reach him virtually didn't work so go take a train and visit him. I know it's not my fault but I still take some of the blame okay? So go see him and sort this out, so he at least knows the truth. So you both can know the truth. Ditch the last period I'll cover and say you went home cause it was a family emergency or something." I hugged my best friend and ran to the train station, he was right. This was something I needed to do.

The next two hours on the train were horrible, my nerves racked my body as I tried to process anything I wanted to originally say to him. The train lurching to a stop, my stop, brought me out of my thoughts. I walked the familiar route to his house, one I had walked so many times before. He should be getting home soon. I just hope he'll talk to me. With a shaky knock on the door, a moment later it swung open revealing his mother. She was a sweet lady, kind and caring beyond relief. She filled the motherly role that lacked some days in my life without a second thought and welcomed Yo and I'd relationship with open arms.

"Y/N! I was wondering when I'd see you again! Come in, come in. I had a feeling something was going on with you and my son so I won't make it wait any longer. Go talk to him, and afterwards we can bake something alright?" I sheepishly took off my shoes and straightened myself out from all of her fussing.

"Thank you.. I just hope it's not too late."

"I'm sure it's not. I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you." I smiled and nodded once and walked up to his room. I took a breath and knocked lightly.

"Come in!" Slowly I opened the door, Yo's face hardening at the sight of me. "What do you want." He was laid on his bed but sat up on the edge at the mere sight of me.

"Can we talk? Please?" He shook his head with a sigh before nodding. Cautiously I walked in and shut the door, finding a seat at his desk chair.

"What did you want to talk about now?"

"About everything that's happened in the last three weeks? I think we both had some misunderstandings and I don't want to lose you over that of all things." He scoffed and flopped back, arms crossed behind his head. "I went awol after I got sent the picture because I shut down and it was overwhelming. Almost everyone from your school was sending it to me with something else to say. Some of them got to me and it made me over think. I turned into a big ball of anxiety and shut people out. Nothing romantic wise has ever happened between Hanta and I, he has a girl that he likes and he doesn't swing that way. He's like a brother to me. He told me that he answered your call Sunday night because he wanted to let you know I was alive and safe. Friday we were having a sleepover and were in the middle of a movie because my anxiety was through the roof that whole week and I broke down for the umpteenth time. Then you showed up. And now we're here." He was rigid as stone as he processed what he was just told.

"I never cheated on you."

"I had a feeling, that's not really who you are. My mind just did what it does best and told me the worst case scenarios."

"That was an old picture from my first year at Ketsu. That girl and I were dating and she came up to me about a month and a half ago asking if I was really dating a guy. So I told her yes and she got upset. It wasn't long until the picture started getting sent around and she started the rumor that I kissed her and that she had me back." It was my turn to nod and take everything in.

"That makes sense." My voice was barely a whisper as tears started to pool in my eyes. "Are we okay? I know I should've talked to you about sooner and I'm sorry I didn't. I really miss you and even if you don't want to date again, I'll settle as friends." That sentence made him shoot up and stand. He approached me and cupped my face making me stare at him.

"Hey, I love you." My heart skipped a beat as it started to rush. It was the first time we had said it to each other.

"I love you too." He smiled lightly and placed an angel light kiss on my lips.

"We're okay. C’mon." He dropped his hands and lightly held my own, tugging me over to his bed.

"Lemme take my blazer and tie off, it's really uncomfy." He smiled and laughed softly but dropped my hands as he laid back down on his bed. I shrugged of the blazer and threw off my tie, undid the top button and climbed into his bed. His strong arm immediately wrapped around my waist and pulled our chests together.

"Don't cry anymore, I'm sorry for not listening and getting jealous. I had no reason to be. Hearing him call you that name just set me off for some reason."

"Wait, mariposa or mariposita?" He sheepishly nodded and I giggled. "You don't know what it means do you?" He craned his neck back and looked at me with a questioning glint in his eye. "It means butterfly or little butterfly. He's called me that since I got my quirk because of my wings." Yo's face dropped at the newfound knowledge.

"God do I feel stupid."

"Yeah but you're my stupid boy."

"Yeah, yeah I am." I placed a quick kiss on his cheek before he got a Cheshire cat grin on his face. "What are you thinking?"

"I wanna be petty." I chuckled and watched as he pulled out his phone, quickly going on Instagram and pulling up the camera. "You okay with this?" I nodded and smiled, expecting him to take a picture but instead he took a video. He placed a kiss on my temple. I blushed but cupped his cheek and pulled him into a quick kiss, the both of us smiling into it. He ended the video and we watched it back, he saved it to his camera roll and I groaned sarcastically. "I love this video." He didn't put a caption on it as he posted it on his story and tucked his phone away. He pulled my closer to his chest and nuzzled his head into my messy (h/c) locks. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too."

"If you get overwhelmed please just tell me we can talk later? Or something? I thought the worse and I didn't want to lose you permanently."

"I will. Okay? I love you."

"I love you too."

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #shindo #yo #yo shindo #lgbt #angst #but added a fluffy ending

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aggressive-positivity-network · 3 years

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Whoever your three favorite Batman villains are, following your "Henchman shared custody" thing (Because I need headcanons to fix my shitty day): Say there's this one henchperson who just... even these villains know something is wrong, they're so clingy and desperate to please. Eventually Joker calls them and says "Oh yeah, they have anxiety and PTSD from years of physical, verbal, and emotional abuse" because let's face it he knows this shit

Oooh, I wanna get right into this! However, I’m afraid I can only do one right now. Mr. Freeze is my ABSOLUTE favorite, though.

Mr. Freeze:

He was already kind of socially awkward to begin with - a lot of academics generally are - but now that he’s been pretty much without strong emotion and the general public for so long, he treats the henchman as independent people that need little support.

This can cause a bluntness that most tolerate, some appreciate, and others are put off by.

This henchperson in question is glad that they don’t have to explain their unwillingness to go home at night or their overwhelming need to be perfect, but a small part of them wishes that they’d ask.

Finally, it all comes to a head when the assistant accidentally knocks over a set of beakers, which shatter on the hard floor.

Mr. Freeze, without turning from his current project, asks them to sweep it up and get a new set. He isn’t happy about the delay or the money that will have to be spent on new beakers, but he isn’t too angry. After all, they’re just beakers.

The villain hears shards of glass being swept, but not very fast or with much effort, which is very odd for this particular henchman.

He turns around to find them on their knees, their shoulders shaking, too distraught to sweep the glass. Their hands were covered by the ski mask they were required to wear, but it was clear they were trying to keep back sobs.

Mr. Freeze didn’t question the behavior at the time - he assumed it was a normal emotional reaction - but as time went on, these events started to happen more and more frequently. Soon, Mr. Freeze could barely get through the day without seeing the henchperson in the midst of a stifled breakdown.

The work got done, but at what cost?

So, without any knowledge on the only subject he was ignorant in (emotions), he called Joker.

“Howdy! This is the Funny Farm, Old McJoker speaking. What can I do for you, pardner?”

“I don’t have time for your antics, clown.”

“Ouch. Cold shouldered again by Frosty the Snowman. I thought you were supposed to be some happy, jolly soul! Where’s your Christmas spirit, french fry?”

“Firstly, it’s August. Secondly, and I cannot stress this enough, my last name is pronounced freeze. Thirdly, I require your assistance, not a half-baked pun.”

“You’re getting a little nippy on more than my nose, Jack. Either you can get rid of that bad attitude, or you can make like snow and flake, got it? Today hasn’t really given me much reason to smile, Fry. And if you push my buttons, it’ll be out of the grease and into the fire for you.”

Mr. Freeze checked himself, took a deep breath, then described his issue with the henchperson.

“From my experience and research, humans don’t usually experience such reactions. Was I too harsh? Was my brusqueness unacceptable? Have I really been away from my own kind for so long...?”

There was a brief silence on the other end, but Joker eventually spoke. There was no humor in his voice.

“You mean Emma? That bright-eyed, bushy-tailed blonde? She’s what Wall Street would call unfortunate, but what the rest of us call crazy. And not the fun sort of crazy, either - mostly just pathetic. Like a dog on one of those activism commercials. On one hand, awwww, but on the other, what can you do? The damage has already been done.”

“What...happened to her?”

“What hasn’t, Jack? Parents kicked the bucket, she got bounced around a few foster homes, landed on one that had some sort of pageant dream she lived vicariously through her, a car crash killed daddy number six, and mommy soon after with a few too many special pills. She won a big pageant the night after the funeral and used the money to get herself an apartment in the bad part of Gotham, but ran dry a few weeks later. Signed up for the Henchman Program, bada-bing, bada-boom, there’s Emma.”

“How do you know so much?”

Another silence, then a half-hearted laugh.

“Some mixture of morbid curiosity and a love for tragedy. Isn’t that funny, Freeze? The King of Clowns being a sucker for sad endings and bitter tears? For dead parents and freak accidents and runny mascara? What can I say? I’m a gossip.”

Mr. Freeze felt what little rage he could welling up in his chest.

“She isn’t for your entertainment. Her unfortunate circumstances aren’t a punchline for your pathetic charade - the only true tragedy is your failed attempt at dark humor.”

Joker snarled. “Bye bye, Fry. Say hi to Nora for me, won’t you? I’ve heard she isn’t feeling too well...I’ve heard there has been a chill going around...”

Mr. Freeze gritted his teeth and slammed the phone back on the receiver. He had had enough.

However, his conversation with Joker made him take initiative and make the work environment better for Emma.

Freeze started with giving the henchwoman a place to stay. He disguised the repurposed rooms as a commute issue, so he encouraged anyone who would rather stay in the workplace to use them if their shift lasted more than a day.

Emma snatched the opportunity up like a starving dog, as did a few others. The group became fast friends, and Mr. Freeze could frequently hear them in the guest bedrooms playing board games or sharing stories.

Her mental health steadily improved, as did her work ethic and physical health. After a while, she had made such a recovery that Mr. Freeze asked her to be one of his permanent henchmen.

She accepted ecstatically, taking the martial arts and survival courses with unquenchable determination.

After a few weeks as an official Fractal, she was promoted to team leader, which Mr. Freeze bestowed with great satisfaction.

It was almost like having a daughter of his own...

#btas batman #batman villains #batman #batman the animated series #batman headcanon #batman incorrect quotes #humor #funny post #just for laughs #funny content #funny #dank humor #send asks #ask blog

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bellafarallones2 · 3 years

Text

a/n: t-rated indruck fluff from #21 on Veronica Bunch's college au prompt list: I get stuck with a late class that doesn’t end until 9pm and I’m always anxious about walking across the campus to the dorms, so you offer to walk with me and one night, I find out that it’s in the exact opposite direction that you need to go in

Duck had signed up for Performance Studies because he needed arts credits and because the meeting time, seven to nine in the evening Tuesdays and Thursdays, worked well with the rest of his schedule. He was less happy when the professor emailed out the homework for the first day: a reading that examined the question “what is performance?” for thirteen dense pages without managing to come to a conclusion.

By the time he showed up to the first class, he barely remembered any of the points the reading had made. Most of the other students already seemed to know each other, and were talking in groups when he arrived. Only one man, a tall guy with silver hair whose black roots suggested he’d spent an evening bent over a sink for it, was sitting alone and silent.

“Anyone sitting here?” said Duck.

“You?” said the guy hopefully. He was wearing jeans and a soft beige cardigan over his white shirt, and there was a small rainbow-flag patch on his black backpack.

“I’m Duck,” Duck said. “And my pronouns are he/him.” He still occasionally got read as a butch lesbian, and it was better to establish the pronoun thing right out of the gate.

“Indrid. I also use he/him.”

That was all they said before the professor showed up and class began. The professor genuinely cared about the material, which made the whole thing more interesting, though Duck was still distracted. Indrid had very nice hands, nails painted chipped black, and he doodled the entire class, filling a whole page with spiky fractals.

Finally nine o’clock arrived. The sky outside was pitch-black. “I’m not really looking forward to walking home this late,” Duck said as he stood waiting for Indrid to finish packing up. “Wish I had your punk privilege.”

“Excuse me?” Indrid looked amused.

“You know. You’re tall and you have piercings.” As Duck said that, Indrid stood up, revealing that he was even taller than Duck had previously thought. Jesus, this guy had Slenderman legs. “You look like you could throw a punch.”

“I could use my punk privilege to walk you home, if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate it, if it’s not too out of your way - I live on High Street next to the REI.”

“Yeah, I’m going that way.”

Duck held the door as they left the building and walked together down the half-lit street. The planes of Indrid’s face looked almost unearthly in the streetlights.

“You an art major?” Duck asked.

“Visual arts and math. I needed to take something in theater or music as a distribution requirement and this was the least theater or music class I could find that was also after noon.”

Duck laughed. “Yeah, I’m in the forestry program and I had to take something artsy.”

Indrid nodded. They walked in silence for a while, but Indrid didn’t seem to mind, his hands shoved into his pockets and his face turned up.

“This is me,” Duck said when they reached the REI. The door to the apartments above was almost unnoticeable next to the brightly-lit storefront.

“Alright,” Indrid said as Duck fiddled with his key. “See you on Thursday!”

“Goodnight!” said Duck when the door swung open, looking around. As soon as Indrid saw that Duck was inside, he turned and walked back the way they’d come. Duck wondered vaguely where he lived; this block didn’t have many students. Ah, well. A question for another day.

On Thursday before class Duck stopped at the snack bar for dinner and spotted a familiar head of silver hair. Indrid was drawing, his head tilted at an odd angle so he could both look at the page and drink from the straw on a sixteen-ounce cherry slushy.

“Mind if I join you?” said Duck.

Indrid looked up and his face lit up. “Of course! I don’t mind, I mean. Please sit.”

Duck realized then that what he’d assumed was art was in fact math, that Indrid was taking notes out of a slim, intimidating textbook. Duck recognized a couple of integral signs and that was about it. “Math, huh?”

Indrid nodded.

“I had to take Calc 2 for my major, I wish I’d known you then so you could have helped me with it.”

Indrid laughed, tapping his pencil. “I’d have been happy to. Certainly numbers make more sense than people do, sometimes.”

“Probably more sense than that performance reading.” Duck leaned forward. “I don’t suppose you’d be down to walk me home again?”

Indrid shrugged. “You’re good company.”

Duck met Indrid again at the local park that weekend. Their homework for the week was to record themselves performing in a way they did in their daily lives, and Duck didn’t feel like getting into gender, so he’d decided to show how he performed when giving a nature talk, and he’d asked Indrid to help film. (He’d offered to help film Indrid’s performance in return, but Indrid had politely declined, joking about performance anxiety.)

It was less awkward than Duck had been expecting. He walked around the park, pointing out the fungus on a tree trunk and a frog sitting with just its eyes over the surface of the water. Indrid, filming on Duck’s phone, smiled encouragingly whenever he met Duck’s eyes, and it was all Duck could do not to break his train of thought to grin back.

“Thank you for helping me,” he said when he was done.

“Thank you for the free nature walk!” said Indrid as he handed Duck’s phone back to him. Their hands brushed against Duck’s smooth phone case. “I come here to draw sometimes, but I’ve never noticed all that before.”

They watched everyone’s videos in class that week. Most of them were pretty boring. Duck cringed through the playing of his own video, though Indrid had done a good job with the camerawork, and a few of the music majors in the class had recorded themselves playing their instruments, which was at least nice to listen to. And then it was Indrid’s turn.

The video opened on a close-up shot of Indrid’s face. I am an artist, the voiceover said, Indrid’s own voice booming across the classroom. Sometimes I even look like it.

The Indrid on the screen bent his head - he was looking not at the camera but at a mirror behind it, putting on heavy eyeliner and spotty mascara. He switched out the subtle studs along the shell of his ear for something heavier, flashier, chain running between the holes. Then he stepped back from the camera and shrugged on a black leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders. A punk jacket. He posed, self-conscious, and as he started laughing the camera cut sharply to his face, again large.

I had an internship last summer with an insurance company calculating risk. He rubbed the makeup off his face with a makeup wipe, his eyes reddening slightly at the contact. He removed the jacket and folded it carefully before placing it out of frame. And then he picked up a pale blue button-down and buttoned it carefully down over his undershirt, and tied a tie in a perfect Windsor around his neck. He removed the bar from his eyebrow and the chains from his ears, which looked rather naked without them.

I perform to look like the things I know I can do. He dabbed concealer over the rosy maple moth tattooed at his neck, one wingtip peeking over the collar of the shirt. Then he held his hand out for a handshake, a business handshake, and sure, he looked like the kind of person Duck would trust to sell insurance. But there was something about his smile, something Duck wondered if anyone else could see. Something that lingered no matter what he wore.

Duck probably should spend less time thinking about his mouth.

“So my lease ends in January,” said Duck casually as they turned the corner onto his street. “And I’ve been having trouble finding other places that rent to students in this neighborhood, so I was wondering how you found your place.”

“Oh,” said Indrid, sounding guilty. “Well, I don’t know how much help I can be. I live up by the corner of 16th street and Broad.”

Duck did some quick mental geography as he climbed the step up to the front door. “That’s completely the other direction!”

“I know.” He was dressed like neither an insurance salesman nor a metal punk, today, with gold studs glittering in his ears like grains of sand and a soft, oversized sweater falling off one shoulder. The black roots of his hair had grown since the beginning of the term.

“You told me the first day of class that walking home wouldn’t be going out of your way! You know I don’t need walking home, right?”

“Of course. I just. Uh. I wanted to spend more time with you. I’m sorry for misleading you, we can stop if it makes you feel weird.”

Duck looked down at him. Indrid stood silently, awaiting judgment. “How about you come in?”

Indrid looked up. “I don’t mean to impose, it’s no trouble to walk home -”

Duck held out his hand. Indrid took it and followed him up the stairs without letting go. “You aren’t allergic to cats, are you?” Duck said when he finally had to take his hand back to unlock the door.

“Even if I was, I’d happily resign myself to sneezing.”

Duck opened the door and, as soon as Indrid was inside, crowded him up against it. Indrid slowly lifted his hands, trembling, and rested them on Duck’s shoulders. His gaze beneath his glasses flicked from Duck’s eyes to his lips and back again.

“Can I kiss you?” Duck said.

“Yes please.”

Indrid’s mouth was warm and soft and yielded so easily to Duck’s tongue, fuck, they should have done this sooner. Class would have been so much more bearable if he could have been looking over at Indrid’s lips the whole time knowing that as soon as class was over he could drag him out into the hallway, into one of the gender-neutral bathrooms in the arts building and kiss him silly.

“You don’t have any morning classes tomorrow, do you?” Duck asked when he finally pulled away enough to speak.

Indrid shook his head.

“Want to watch a movie and make out?”

“That sounds perfect.”

#indruck

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 4 years

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unexpected, expected beginnings

Summary: Working at the ice rink has been one of your favorite jobs, although it tends to lead you to reminisce on recurring memories of your past best friend and lover, Timothee. But, when an unexpected visitor comes through the door, will it leave you to start unexpected beginnings? or form a relationship from burnt bridges?

word count: 2,407 reading time aprox: 10 mins

Multi-colored strobe lights glided and beamed throughout the ice rink, shining on the faces of people that were either steadily skating or helplessly clinging onto the railing for life. I found comfort in the cold crisp air as I stood idle by the rental skate hut, waiting for my shift to finish, at 8:30, in 15 minutes.

I laid comfortably on my propped elbow, a smile crossing my lips as I watched the hesitant and naive expressions of those inexperienced skaters. A brief giggle would occasionally be let out as they would slip and tremble when letting go of the sides, in which they then hastily glue themselves to the wall once again.

I shook my head while checking the time, reminiscing on the days I began skating lessons with, my ex best friend and boyfriend, Timothee and how we would find reassurance when we’d watch each other tumble, yet get back up again. I remember it as if it wasn’t nearly 9 years ago, an 8 and 10 year old walking on ice like a baby elephant learning how to walk on it’s hind legs.

Sometimes I’d wonder where Timothee was, though I’d have to scold myself for letting him cloud my thoughts once again. We had broken up after he had graduated high school, specifically after I had confronted him on a situation involving a girl that crossed certain boundaries he failed to understand and coincidentally after I’d trusted him with the sacred and vulnerable parts of me in bed, for the first time.

I pressed my fingernails on the pads of my thumb, alternating each finger with different points of pressure as I always found comfort in the slight pain that it would bring. I thought of it as a reminder of reality and it helped me take my mind off of things by focusing on the feeling of discomfort it brought.

With an exhausted sigh, I checked the time on my phone and saw I still had about 10 minutes to endure. I tossed the device to the side and began bringing out the disinfectant spray to deal with the used skates scattered across the counter, seeing that there were no more customers coming through.

Although I spoke too soon as the sound of the revolving doors to the rink came to an audible thud which followed 2 other thuds. I didn’t even bother to turn around to know that there were 3 people that just had entered the building, but it came to a surprise when I found only one guy standing patiently in front of the desk. As soon as he saw me, he stared at me in bewildered shock as if I had caught him off guard. Consciously, I reached up to touch my face bashfully, instantly thinking if there had been something bizarre on it.

He noticed this immediately and waved in off apologetically. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, that was quite rude of me” He chuckled lightheartedly, placing his hand over mine instinctively on the desk. “I-I thought you looked...familiar, per say” He explained queerly, taking his hand away and placing it on his chest diplomatically, looking at me with regretful eyes.

“Oh that’s okay, don’t worry about it. I had thought there was something wrong with my face” I laughed off, tucking a stray hair behind my ear, smiling at him.

“Well I find nothing wrong with your face” He confessed smoothly, beaming at me with an infectious smile. “Jonathan” He stated, extending his hand out to shake mine.

“Y/N” I replied, returning the gesture, fighting off the rosy color threatening to paint my cheeks as I absentmindedly checked the time again; my shift ending in 5 minutes. “Can I help you with anything, Jonathan?” I inquired, remembering I was still on the job.

“Oh yeah, I’m here with 2 other friends-well I’m more so third wheeling- but can I get 2 size 10s in Mens and a size 7 in Womens?” He ordered.

“Where are these 2 other friends? Are they coming in later?” I asked, but then felt a little intrusive as I inquired about his business. Turning around, I looked through the racks of skates and found the requested sizes.

“Oh I came in with them, they’re just getting lockers for us”

Facing him again, I handed him the 3 pairs with a smile. “That’ll be $21 dollars in rentals” I calculated, taking his credit card from him through this little transaction. “Okay you’re all set, enjoy”.

He silently nodded at me with a comical salut and began walking towards the side of the rink where the lockers were. Maybe it was the nosy part of me, but I extended my head to the side, attempting to see who he was talking about. Although, I wish I hadn’t as my stomach sank and saliva had got caught in my esophagus to the point where I started to cough violently.

In all his fame and glory, there stood Timothee chatting about, with a girl entangled in his arms. His green meadow eyes twinkled while talking to Jonathan, the luminescent fractals of color only enhancing his facial features.

Hastily, I pressed my nails dangerously to my thumb, wincing as I broke the skin’s surface and drops of blood seeped through. “Shit” I whispered in pain, not knowing how to feel as the intensity of shock and emotional turmoil overcame me.

I grabbed a band aid from the first aid kit glued to the wall, meanwhile checking the time. My phone read 8:34 and the wave of relief I received never felt so satisfying.

‘God I will be forever grateful to you, I pledge my full loyalty. Oh thank you, thank you, merci, salamat, gracias, obrigado, just thank you’

Swiftly, I grabbed my coat and bag from under the desk in indisputable excitement. Hoping over the desk and jogging towards the doors with a skip in my step, not even bothering to put on my jacket as I just wanted to be out of this trying atmosphere.

Until, the unfortunate sound of my name echoed through the stadium.

“Hey Y/N! Come join us”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I gingerly spun around, cringing when 3 pairs of eyes where on me. Especially the green eyes full of perplexity and awe as the mention of my name resonated with him.

‘For fucks sake. You had one job God, just one job’

While my ‘graceful and elegant’ complaints permeated my head space, I put on a fake smile and pretended to listen with enthusiasm. “Oh no, it’s quite okay. I wouldn’t want to intrude” I rejected, hoping he’d withdraw his offer.

“No it’ll be fine Y/N” He reassured, beckoning me with the wave of his arm. “Please, give me the honor of showing you a good time” He proposed with an exaggerated posh accent, bowing down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Um...I mean” I locked eyes with Timothee, searching for any evidence of comfort or reassurance, but he was just as dumbfounded as I was. “Sure?” I replied, sounding more like a question than a straight answer.

I rested my things down behind the desk, grabbing the pair of skates I kept by my desk and somehow got my legs to progress forward, feeling every fiber in my body ignite in anxiety as I got closer to the group. I maneuvered my way to the benches and began tying my laces agonizingly slow, hoping that Jonathan would change his mind, in which I would have a perfectly formulated response.

Memories of ice skating with Timmy soon captured my thoughts and the nostalgia softened any resentful bone in my body. I bit off the loose skin on my lips, steadily reinforcing the knot I had made with the lace and with a sigh, I got up with heavy weights on my shoulders.

A bubbling sensation of apprehension arose from my stomach as I stepped onto the ice, feeling the sudden change of surface area on the pads of my feet. The luxury of maneuvering through the ice smoothly gave me confidence at the encounter, especially when Jonathan complimented my abilities. I avoided any eye contact with Timmy and kept my head low while I approached Jonathan’s side, but also making sure that I seemed present and interested for his sake.

We made a few rounds around the rink, Timothee somehow separating from the both of us to come to his girl’s aid whenever she failed to keep her balance while ‘skating’; well, more so pushing off the wall 90% of the time. Although she was quite pretty, she had brunette hair that ran long till her waist and radiating tan skin that looked like the sun puked her out. Timmy grabbed her hand, pulling her next to him as he held her up, laughing in the process as she still slipped and slided.

Rolling my eyes in resentment, I crossed my arms diving deep into my thoughts.

‘Gosh, imagine not knowing how to skate properly’

Wait, why was I judging her? I could possibly not be thinking about this now. I’m with an amazing guy with a charming personality. But the thing is, I barely even know Jonathan. But I’m supposed to be having a good time, right? I love skating. But you did love Timmy more, didn’t you?. But, Jonathan has pretty eyes. Well, where do you think your fascination of pretty eyes came from?

An incoherent grumble slipped out as my mind malfunctioned, putting it into overdrive while also, cutting Jonathan off as he was speaking about something I had completely tuned out. “So that was my tri- Wow was my story that boring?” he asked unsurely, rubbing the back of his head while trying to remain a cool exterior.

“Oh my god, I’m so- I’m so sorry, I just blacked out there” I covered my face with my palms in embarrassment, my sentence coming out mumbled. “I just...I guess I just have a lot to bear in mind” I justified pitifully, glancing at the young and happy couple frolicing around on ice a few meters away from me.

Jonathan followed the direction I was looking at and nodded. “Penny for your thoughts? Reminiscing on before?” He inquired, biting his bottom lip.

I spun around in a haste, titling my head to side. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand” I explained, confused at his ambiguous question.

He pulled me off to the side, leading us to where the penalty box was. “I have to be honest with you, I knew who you were before we initially met” He confessed, looking at me with a conciliatory expression, like if he were a little kid confessing that he broke his mother’s expensive china and was ready to repent.

“I’m still not understanding” I responded cooly, pushing myself away a few inches, increasing the distance between us as an uneasy feeling crept under my skin.

He lifted himself onto the open side of railing, patting the seat next to him, in which I carefully reciprocated, still leaving that distance. He looked up at the high ceiling, swinging his feet in thought, before saying nonchalantly, “I know that you and Chalamet over there went out” He looked over at me with a calm expression, gazing at my dismayed reaction.

As an attempt to keep my composure, I twiddled my thumbs, pressing onto the bandaid as I swallowed the improper slurs I would’ve used if I was on my own time. “I-um” I started, scratching the back of my head in order to process this new information or if my ears were deceiving me and this was all one big trick. “What do you mean- like how do you- like what?” Shaking my head, puzzled with confusion, I hopped off the side and stood on my skates, peering at him.

“I know you and Timo-” he began again

“Yes I heard, but how?” I cut him off rudely, not wanting him to repeat the same phrase like he did, as my ears might threaten to fall off and die at the sound of his acknowledgement, ending up like pruned up male parts.

Shrugging his shoulders, he soon hopped off the railing too, explaining, “Me and Tim go to university together and you were the first thing me and him ever talked about. I remember he would go on and on about you after your guys’ break up” He professed, fixating his attention to Timmy.

I know I shouldn’t feel like this, but the devil on my shoulder claimed this to be a small petty victory. It’s very infantile of me to even consider so as this was almost a year ago and I should be moving on to become an independent woman, or as my horoscope on Monday said so.

With all these recurring feelings and hesitations, all I could do was chuckle and dive into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. I bent over grabbing my knees as the hysterics came over me, tears brimming at the corners of my eyes.

Jonathan soon joined the infectious bubble of laughter, adding onto the entire comical event. “Are you okay?” He asked, in the midst of giggles and stifled coughs.

I placed my palm over my chest, inhaling and exhaling in order to slow my heartbeat to be able to respond. Jonathan then came in close proximity, wiping away the happy tears that shed down my cheek, taking in my tomato like appearance with eyes full of wonder and content. I stared back up at his in enjoyment, coming off the high we were just put in.

“I’m sorry, I find this all to be hysterical” I admitted, stepping away from his caress and smoothing out the pleated folds that had appeared on my sweater from when I bent over.

Although something did come into mind. “Why did you ask me to skate with you, if you knew me and Timmy had a thing back then?”

“Well I mean, I’m not the type of guy to pass up opportunities, and who would pass up a chance to spend time with a pretty girl like you?” He declared, showing off his pearly whites, just like when we had met.

“But isn’t that like, breaking the bro code or something?”

“Well I mean, Timmy’s out on his- what 4th, maybe 5th date this month- I’m sure he won’t mind” He justified, chuckling light-heartedly.

Narrator’s POV

With that the two skated away worry-free, completely oblivious to the pretty-eyed, brunette French boy that stole brisk glances at the interaction of his best friend and his ex-best friend.

part 2

---

A/N: That’s part one, I know there wasn’t a lot of Timmy’s presence here, but I promise in the next one there will :) it’s a new year and I guess it’s senior year of High school that’s getting to me lol

#timothee #timothee chalamet #timothee imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagines #timmy chalamet #chalamet #cmbyn #call me by your name #chalamet imagines #chalamet imagine #tchalamet #timothee imagines #timothée hal chalamet #text: timothee #winter #ice skating #ice rink #some dude named Jonathan that tries to seduce you

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fraudulence-paradox · 4 years

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08/22/17

I dropped acid for the first time over the weekend (4 days ago). It was interesting. I’ve heard that people when they have an intense experience with it, especially their first time, begin dividing their life into “before acid” and “after acid”. I’m not sure it was quite that impressive, but it certainly was intense. I’ll try to keep to a timeline, but for obvious reasons, that’s pretty difficult. I was at J---’s parents’ cabin for the weekend with some friends. J--- and I had decided a while ago that we wanted to drop acid that weekend, to kick things off. We were sitting in the screened room out back, and I was very nervous. We lit a spanish prayer candle to “La Virgen de Guadalupe” for good energy. My hands were shaking as I pulled the two colorful pieces of paper, perforated and connected down the middle, out of the reflective first-class Canadian parcel bag the dark net delivered to us. I tore them down the middle, handed J--- his tab, and after some thought put mine under my tongue. They were something like 125 mics, and on the advice of our more experienced friend there, we held them under our tongues for 30 minutes. Around the 25 minute mark, (and the 10 minute mark for our friend N--, who had ingested close to 3.5g of shrooms), we made our way into the deep woods behind J---’s house. At some point on our journey out there, J--- and I moved the tabs from our tongue to our upper gums, again at J---e’s advice. I’m not sure if that actually does anything, from what I read, it’s pretty much all ingested as soon as it touches your tongue, but it was part of the ritual, which made it seem all the more spiritual. We entered the woods, and looked at mushrooms and other flora in the woods floor. I was beginning to feel something like a mild weed high, and after a bit more time, colors seemed a lot brighter. That was more or less all I was expecting from what I thought was a pretty low dose, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. All of that may have even been placebo compared to what lied in store for us. At a certain point, when the mushrooms began hitting N--, he broke off our impromptu hike, and sat on the top of a cliff face, observing the woods below. I went up to join him, as the hill we were on, following a trail of mushrooms on the forest floor, was beginning to get rather steep. N-- and I perched on the cliff top as the rest of the group disappeared into the ever thick brush. It was at this point that I began experiencing, for the first time in quite a while, pure, ecstatic joy. I looked up at the trees, and watched the wind shake the leaves, seemingly aware of every moving part of every tree in the forest. I want to stress that even at this point, I still wasn’t tripping, it was merely the come up. For a long time, N-- and I sat on that rock, just listening to the beautiful silence of that West Virginia woods. Eventually we decided we should head back to the cabin, in case the others got back. When we arrived, I was beginning to quite acutely feel strange. At this point, there was no way what I was feeling was placebo, it was real. Sort of a tingling sensation all over my body, with a strange anxiety, or more appropriately skiddishness, like I had just drank a lot of coffee. Staying still or sitting in a chair wasn’t really an option. A big part of the whole trip revolved around me assigning myself goals, and accomplishing them. The goal for that portion of the day, was get a guitar. J--- had packed his guitar and banjo, but as we had arrived in WV in his parents’ pickup truck, and it was rainy on the way up, he had surrounded the soft guitar case in a cocoon of plastic wrap. I’m not sure why this memory sticks out to me so much, but I remember spending an eternity struggling with the wrapping, then realizing it was easier just to unwind it, rather than ripping it. I kept forgetting that, and having to rediscover it, and it felt like some sort of metaphor in my mind. I’m not sure what it was supposed to mean, but it felt significant. Like the universe was telling me something important. Before I go on, I want to stress that as of right now, sober [fraudulence-paradox], base [fraudulence-paradox] (as tripped out me would go on to call me), does not believe in any sort of spirituality, or cosmic meaning or purpose. So dear reader, please take whatever you read next with a grain of salt, because the trip was quite brain bending. For the peak of it, I literally forgot what it meant to be “normal”. I’m still a little confused about it, but at the time, I was absolutely vehemently convinced that not only would I never return to “normal”, but that I was experiencing reality as it really was. But we’ll get into that momentarily.

Now with guitar in hand, I returned to the screened in room, where N-- was sitting. I couldn’t get comfortable in a chair, so I eventually sat in the corner, all sprawled out, feeling electricity course through my extremities. I tried to play some chords on the guitar, but for some reason, all of the chords and progressions that I’d normally idly strum sounded foreign, and alien to me. It was confusing (I would later learn the guitar was out of tune, but even when tuned, it sounded frighteningly alien). I had to put the guitar down, and when I did, I took a momentary glimpse at the ceiling. The ceiling was made of cedar paneling, very natural looking. But as I looked at the roof, if I didn’t take my eyes off of it for a few seconds, the paneling appeared to ebb and flow, the patterns on the wood grain looked less like burned in curves and circles from years of wear, and more like ripples coursing across the surface of a pond that had a stone thrown in it minutes ago. The longer I looked at it, the more patterns and movement I began to notice. At a certain point, it looked as if the ceiling was made of completely clean wooden panels with no grain at all, but instead had paisley, fractal patterns projected on it. My only experience with psychedelics prior to this was with mushrooms, and I took pretty low dose. The only real visuals I got from them were rooms appeared to large, and fonts of things I was writing looked different from letter to letter. And if I really focused on any one thing, I’d notice it was all in my head, I could see what reality actually looked like. The scary, but maybe most mind opening part about acid, is you can’t do that. On a medium dose like I was on, I could look at the ceiling, or the pattern on some object as long as I wanted, but the fractals would only get more elaborate. At this point, maybe 90 minutes had passed, and the rest of the group walked in. They all sat in the screened in room, and began packing bowls or vaping or whatever they were doing. I can’t remember, I was absolutely taken by the ceiling fractals I was seeing. J--- was lingering in the kitchen in the house, so I eventually pulled him out and had him look with me, to confirm how cool it was, and he also saw it. He saw something at least, I can’t know what was going on in his mind, but from that point on, it seemed like some portion of our trips had synced up. We were both seeing something cool on the ceiling, and our thought patterns were totally different than sober us. While we were all sitting in that room, I asked L---n if there was actually some sort of paisley print on the ceiling, I asked if what I was seeing was real. He responded in the best possible way he could have. Earlier that day he told me his brother had coached him up on how to trip sit, and it was showing. Because when I asked him if what I was seeing was indeed real, he didn’t say “nah, you’re tripping”, and he didn’t try to fuck with me by confirming that “yea dude, there are really fractals crawling around on the ceiling”, what he did was respond by saying, “well, what is real, [fraudulence-paradox]? Where do you think reality ends, and the trip begins?”. For whatever reason, that kicked the trip into high gear. Basically as soon as he said that, I began peaking. Something happened in my mind, and I completely lost touch with what was real. My mind was free from having any preconceptions before thoughts. It was like I was five years old, but capable of grasping these intense abstract concepts. It was like I could just sit and think without prejudice or bound. N--- and I (mostly I) decided we wanted to go back out since we were tripping pretty hard, and to be honest, I was just getting antsy from sitting too long. I wanted to go explore everything. I wandered outside, and N-- lit some incense. We stopped at this large rock in J---’s backyard and hung out for a while. I took a watering can from under the deck we were all sitting on, because I wanted to start a drum circle and began to bang on it quietly while the incense burned. My mind was racing, grappling with the strangest thoughts and ideas. I don’t remember any specifics to be completely honest, but I think I was talking a lot about spirituality, and the universe, because J--- told me I was being a walking stereotype. It was probably true, but to be honest, it just felt nice to talk about all the stereotypical stoner crap. It felt like I could actually one hundred percent grasp entirely abstract ineffable concepts in my mind, free from language. But when I tried to verbalize them, it came out as stuff like, “look man, we all exist in.. reality, right? But where does this thing that’s experiencing reality exist? Is consciousness part of reality? Or is there something special and different about the thing that views reality?” But even less eloquent than that, because, c’mon, I was tripping balls. J--- seemed to think everything I was doing and saying was ironic, but to be totally honest, I don’t think I was capable of irony at that point. Everything I did on acid, had to be completely sincere. Everything I was experiencing was too beautiful and felt too true not to be completely, one hundred percent sincere. Even using a watering can as a drum because I liked the sound it made. I completely understand why hippies did everything hippies did now. Every form of expression, especially the esoteric, and non-permanent, like sound and dance, felt like they expressed these crazy, ineffable thoughts I kept having.

Eventually, we left the “drum circle” and ventured deeper into the woods, leaving J--- behind. (He didn’t want to move around, he just wanted to lie down and probably look at the ceiling fractals some more--a noble goal.) We walked through the woods, and eventually made a sort of camp at the base of one cliff, and on the top of another. N-- was setting up his hammock, and I was just staring at trees. As I stared more and more at the trees, I began becoming acutely aware of every single boarder on every single three-dimensional surface of the tree. I cannot stress this enough, LSD didn’t make me see anything that wasn’t already there (well, okay, maybe the ceiling-fractals), it only made me notice the patterns and boarders of everything that was already in front of me. That was the part that was making me question reality so badly. I legitimately wasn’t seeing anything that was outside of reality, I was seeing more of it, somehow. It made me think about how there is this thing: reality. We exist in it, we experience it to some degree, but we can never really know what all of reality is. We are born into reality, but it was already there, and when we die, reality will still be there. Somehow this whole thought cycle (and all the subsequent tangents that came from it) made me very okay with death. I’m not very afraid of it anymore. At least, not as much as I was. I think it made me come to terms with it. We exist for such a short time, and while we’re here, even if we can only see a small part of it, with only five senses, that can be easily fooled, we get to observe reality. I think that’s really special. I don’t think people really think about how much of a gift consciousness is. Whether its some sort of spirit, that exists outside of reality, or its just the way the meat in our skulls shoots electricity, it’s undeniable that there is some sort of human experience, and I think to a great extent we all share at least that. As far as we know, humans, and maybe some other large fauna, are the only things that get to experience reality. I’m not sure why this was so poignant to me, but it was. That was the biggest thing I took away from the trip. We get to exist, and while we’re here, we get to see reality. And if we’re really lucky, and if we so choose, we can even effect reality. We can build, or destroy, or create. We are the masters of reality for a very, very short period of time, in a very, very small space. We can do whatever we want, and even though it’s all fleeting, we can experience it. Other consciousnesses can experience it. These were the thoughts going through my mind, in a wild frenzy. … (eventually write about going back for incense, getting john, experiencing death and birth thousands of times, leaving the woods for the last time, coming down) … ([fraudulence-paradox] note: clearly I didn’t. Maybe I’ll come back and edit this post someday)

After we had built the fire, and J---’s friends from [college] had arrived, we passed around a bong. I thought that the LSD had more or less exited my system. I was feeling back to baseline consciousness pretty much. I could remember why I valued certain things, like not going to jail, disappointing my family, or not dying, which was a kind of disturbing thing I had forgotten earlier, but had remembered that “base [fraudulence-paradox] ” valued, so I probably shouldn’t mess them up for him. So I was feeling pretty sober. And what else is there to do around a campfire, but get a little high? I had wildly underestimated how much acid was still kicking around in my brain, and after the third or so hit, I was right back to peaking. Honestly, I was mentally exhausted at this point, so instead of going with it, I fought it. That was probably the reason things began taking a turn for the worst. At no point do I think I had a “bad trip”, but more like Timothy Leary would describe, there were difficult portions, all of which happened after that bowl was smoked. I started to notice the same sort of heavy pattern recognition was happening in the stones around the fire as was happening in the woods earlier that day with the bark on the trees. I was watching the fire burn, and could pinpoint individual portions of the wood that were burning off, and splitting into charcoal. It was kind of like a very distracting superpower. It was kind of cool, until I noticed with my “super-perception” that living in one of the logs we had thrown into the fire was a whole colony of some sort of woodlouse. It was incredibly disturbing to watch as they all flooded out of the tiny holes in the log, only to be vaporized by the flames above. I witnessed thousands upon thousands of deaths, and even though they were insects, that really affected me. I eventually found some excuse to go back inside, and go to bed, despite it only being 11.

As I lied in bed, I went through the most difficult part of the whole trip. I remember pretty distinctly, that it felt like my conscious, thinking mind, was entirely separate from the animal brain that controlled my actions (which is kind of normal when I’m high, but was amplified by the acid to the point where my conscious mind (left brain?) was having whole discussions with the animal id (right brain?). I’ve heard theories that the brains hemispheres are actually separate entities; the one with the language center controlling the body and any outward communication, and the other hemisphere controlling the logic, and sort of taking a back seat, unable to control the impulses). A sad-sounding song came on, on Pandora, and the “animal mind”, which for simplicity’s sake, I’ll call the id, began thinking about M----, and feeling sad. The “conscious mind”, which I’ll just call the ego, normally would disagree and think the id’s thoughts were all impulses. But what made this portion of the trip so difficult, was the ego conceding that it too was upset. It was thinking something along the lines of, “M---- made [fraudulence-paradox]’s id happy. And we liked her ‘ego’ too”. Over and over. All I could think about was “M---- made us happy”. The ego eventually convinced the id that if it ended, it wasn’t meant to be. We would eventually find someone who made [fraudulence-paradox] happy again. But all I could think about was how nice it used to be to have someone I could share the thoughts of my ego with; someone I could open up to, and not just show the impulsive id, but show the more sensitive ego. I think everyone needs that. It makes people happy, but moreover, I think that kind of trust in another human being, in another human being’s conscious mind, is something beautiful, and of supreme importance. Love is one of, if not the most important things to experience in life. Then, the ego had an even more disturbing thought. All my life, I’ve thought marriage was just how it ends. It was just an eventuality that couldn’t be avoided if I wanted to. The ego, or I, whatever, realized that marriage is not a guarantee. There is a real chance that I could just never find someone. Maybe I could settle someday, but there is no guarantee that I’ll just find someone who I love, and who loves me.

Somehow, I settled myself down. I feel like it required the ego saying a lot of things to the id that it knew weren’t true, but that would calm [fraudulence-paradox] down. I don’t know. Eventually that weird split personality thing went away. I was back to normal when I woke up.

Maybe that whole weird split personality thing was just my mind’s way of dealing with grief. I don’t think I ever fully came to terms with how upset the breakup made me. I dumped her, but it really felt like she dumped me. Something in the semantics of “I dumped her” made me think it wasn’t okay to feel sad. I’m not sure. I’m still sad, but it’s more of a dull pain. My ego was right. If we broke up it really wasn’t meant to be. But I know it’s still hurting him just as much as my id.

#LSD #acid #trip #report #trip report #journal #college #lysergic acid diethylimide #college journal #tripping #psychedellics #psychedellic

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peterhongwrites · 7 years

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(Ch. 1) Hugh Jadhav and the Hallway of Self-Discovery

The alarm rang and it was morning. Chemistry was in the morning. Hugh had Chemistry. Hugh woke up.

Hugh prepared for class. It was simple for Hugh, since he always pre-prepared his preparations beforehand. After his morning hygienics, Hugh downed his pre-made cup of coffee. He set himself into Tuesday’s sweater vest (student pin directly over the right breast), laid out from last night. He checked his bag, organized by relevancy, alphabet, and enigmatic personal criteria; then double, triple-checked it. And once that was done, he put on the final touches. He slipped his thermos into a holster on his side, coffee loaded into it like bullets into a gun. He was ready for Chemistry.

Before going out, Hugh nudged his dormmate Al, still knocked out on the bed. “Hey. It’s morning. Chem time.” Al continued to sleep. Hugh draped Al’s blanket tighter over him. “Gonna catch pneumonia like that.”

He turned to the door and twisted the knob. Time to leave.

Hugh stepped out into the hallway, where a blizzard was blowing, miles of snow stretched from the Chemistry Lab.

Hugh’s reaction was quick, and concise:

“Oh, god damn-- darn it!”

“The only way,” a mysterious voice spoke from nowhere, “is the way of yourself.”

“C’mon, c’mon! Just cut me a break this time!”

Silence. No response. Of course.

“Great.” Hugh stood still in the snow. And he leaned, leaned backwards right into it. He fell. Hugh fell right into the snow. “Great great great.”

The ground was freezing. Hugh continued to lay there. And continued. And continued, and snapped right back up, firing off a whole long, angry belt clip of curses; this stupid hall, this stupid blizzard, this stupid, stupid etc.

Then Hugh kicked the snow, kicked it hard and hoped the hall knew it. Nothing could ever give him a break at this school. Hugh was constantly under assault by impromptu journeys of self-discovery. He’d just be walking somewhere and then-- bam! Another long quest to “find himself.” He cursed in disdain, then cursed again.

Hugh spat out his last words, then closed his eyes for a deep breath. Okay, okay. He had to move on. Luckily, after his many experiences, Hugh had prepared for this too. He pulled out a Segway from his backpack and began the long trek to Chemistry. He had no idea how long the snowy hallways stretched on, but his backpack had extra warm clothes, rations, gas, and study materials to last him forever (and he was ready for forever). He hopped on his ride, grumbling to himself. And rode off against the harsh wind.

Countless hours passed on his journey. Hugh recited Chemistry topics to himself to pass the time as he traveled the barren landscape of the hall. He reviewed the properties of metals, then passed a set of lockers. He went over Noble gases and wove between the snowbanks. He thought of half-lives, rode down the stairs. Atoms, then glaciers. Protons, neutrons. More lockers. Periodic table. Doors.

And Hugh kept on riding and riding. In fact, Hugh rode non-stop on his little Segway for 22 whole days until he finally saw something noteworthy. A cave, just a few miles off the Nurse’s Office. Hugh decided to drive in. A cave was shelter, and more importantly, different. And Hugh knew that solitary caves were a wellspring for self-actualization.

Hugh stopped his Segway and placed it back into his backpack. He walked into the cave. It was empty. It was dark. It was exactly what a cave should be. Hugh struck a fire and laid down. He was gonna rest now, at least for the hours until a revelation inevitably came.

Hugh would rest for half a day until it finally happened. The fire had gone out then and Hugh was tightly zipped in a space blanket cocoon on the floor. “Hugh Jadhav,” spoke a new voice drifting through the cave, speaking in the glints of light in the grains of snow. “Hugh Jadhav.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s me,” Hugh said, rising from his blanket like an irritable butterfly reaching tender maturity. The fire had died hours ago, but Hugh could see the being talking to him in perfect darkness. It was a spirit whose form could only be seen in the outlines traced between stray snowflakes, the drops of water off the top of the cave, and the light filtered in them. “I’m up, I’m up. I’m ready for whatever revelation or moral decision or temptation you’re about to give me, so just lay it on me.”

“Hugh Jadhav,” it spoke, voice like cascading, “what is it that you desire?”

“Desire? Okay, sure. I desire to go to Chem.”

“Do you desire life? Riches? Unending youth? Property?”

“Look, I just said. I wanna go to class, study, get some good grades, graduate. Yeah?”

“Ah. I see.”

“Yep. That’s it. Just wanna go to Chem.”

Hugh waited. The spirit did not reply. Quiet froze like the ice between them. Typical. Magical guides could never be punctual.

“Well, then I will allow you to continue onto Chemistry, Hugh.”

“Really? It’s… really gonna be that easy?”

“But.”

“Oh.”

“Be warned. Where you are going, there will be no maps.”

“Yeah, okay. Uh...”

The visible darkness began to fade into ordinary darkness. Hugh felt the earth under him slowly disappearing, and his body falling, accelerating to an unknown destination below.

“Well. Thanks, I guess? Good to meet you?”

The being made of snowflakes and waterdrops said nothing. It was waning away from distance as Hugh dropped further and further. Thank god. Hugh had no idea how to talk to people like them.

Hugh fell and fell and fell. And once again, Hugh waited. He waited, watching the unending darkness pass by for minutes on minutes on minutes. Deep down, Hugh felt that he owed some anxiety to his current situation, rapidly descending down a dark, mysterious space. But Hugh didn’t feel anxious. Hugh just felt tired, and ready for class.

After several hours, Hugh saw a pinprick point of light starting beneath him, a tiny hole shining in the void. He stared as it steadily grew larger and larger beneath him. Falling down a hole for eternity is a pretty boring thing, so Hugh devoted all his attention to the light, how quickly it grew, when it would finally reach certain sizes. It was tiny, but his eyes and head were full of it.

Eventually, he could see that the hole was close enough that his departure was at hand, and soon enough, the darkness finally passed over him and Hugh’s sneakers felt the touch of solid earth beneath. His legs went jelly as they struggled to remember what standing was.

Hugh was immediately blinded as he arrived in his new surroundings. The land he had come to greeted him with light as bright as a camera flash. Hugh blinked, rubbed his eyes, and opened them up slowly.

Then Hugh saw the world around him. Tall, pearl-colored walls stood up from the earth, connected in hundreds of different paths and corridors. In the distance, the tops of large, moving creatures patrolled through the area. Hugh knew what it was instantly.

“Another maze! Real subtle. Gotta add that to the counter.”

Hugh sighed. He wanted to curse again, but his throat was tired and anyways, he’d used up all his good ones. So he just chose a random entrance (eenie-meenie-miney-moe), and walked in.

Hugh traveled the maze. He moved in alternated directions: he turned left at one intersection, right on the next, left again, right, left, etc. He didn’t pay much attention to where he was going. After all his journeys, Hugh was deeply familiar with mazes; he knew as long as he “followed his heart” or instincts or whatever, he’d probably end up where he wanted to.

After a couple days and many, many turns, Hugh arrived at yet another intersection, and his instincts told him to drop down and lay on the ground uselessly. Hugh trusted in his instincts. He plopped down right where he was standing, almost ragdoll-like, and lazily took out some extra-credit worksheets. He may have been barred from class, but an Honors GPA stopped for no one.

All the while, a loud stomping noise seemed to come closer and closer. Hugh tried to ignore it, but it only got louder and louder, until it was impossible to complete his quadratic equations. Abruptly, the noise stopped. Hugh looked up from his work. An enormous titan made of what looked like clamshell was right above him. Its head was split into two halves, and a pearl (an eye?) floated between them. They stared at one another for a moment. Hugh blinked. The titan did not. Hugh waved a hand. Then it continued to stomp across the maze.

That gave Hugh an idea. He reached into his backpack, pulled out a long rope and tied himself to the giant somewhere steady. Sooner or later, this thing was gonna stroll right by the exit. Now all Hugh had to do was wait until it did.

“Hey,” he asked it, “you don’t mind, right?” No response.

Undeterred, Hugh continued his work. Extra credit would not be interrupted. He scribbled equations, filled in bubbles. He took an occasional glance at his surroundings which, yep, looked the same as it did every other time he checked.

“Hey,” Hugh said to the giant. “You don’t know anything about fractals do you?”

The giant made three noises: one a light bubbling sound, another a harsh electronic tone, and then the last note of some breathy chant.

“Didn’t figure.” He continued.

In time, Hugh finally saw the exit off in the distance. Thank god. Hugh carefully detached himself from the giant. In response, the giant once again made its three noises. “Uh. Okay, look pal. Thanks for everything, I guess. But I gotta go. I just wanna go to class.”

Again, three noises.

“So, uh. Bye? Have a good life?”

Hugh started walking to the exit.

The giant made a gurgling noise. Then, it spoke: “Hugh Jadhav.”

“Aw-- crud.”

“Hugh Jadhav, to leave this place, you must answer my question.”

Hugh breathed. Breathing was good, yeah? Calming? Hugh wasn’t sure he felt calm. “Okay. Okay okay, fine, I can take it, just shoot.”

“Hugh Jadhav,” it speaks, voice closing, “are you satisfied with your life?”

Hugh breathed again. He spoke:

“How... the heck am I supposed to know? I’m in highschool, I don’t got time for big deep questions like that.”

“Hugh Jadhav, do you believe you feel satisfied with your life?”

“I dunno. Maybe? I just wanna go to class, honestly. I don’t know if it’s satisfying or whatever, but all the, the philosophical junk, that’s not anything.”

Hugh stared at the clamshell giant. It didn’t have much of a face, so Hugh had no idea what to glean from it.

“In order to pass the next, final trial,” it finally spoke, “you must face something deep within.”

Hugh’s stared blankly, before experience kicked in. “Oh. Oh, please don’t tell me. Don’t tell me it’s another, ‘battle with the self’ kinda thing.”

It did not reply. After a couple minutes, Hugh figured it was okay to leave. He walked over to the exit. He didn’t look back. He just walked.

“It better not be,” he muttered, “it better not…”

Hugh trekked through the long path of the exit.

“Not gonna happen again,” he spoke to himself, turning a corner. “Nope. Not again. Not gonna happen again.”

Hugh twisted around the bend of the path. “Just gonna get out here, and end up in class,” he continued. “Just gonna,” he murmured, reaching the end of the trail. “Just gonna…”

On the other side of the exit, Hugh found himself in a small, dark room. There wasn’t much to it. Only curtains, a window, a large mirror on the other side of the room, and a door next to it. Hugh stood still. He stared himself down in the mirror, waiting.

“Hugh Jadhav,” the mirror spoke, with lips made from reflection.

“Okay. Okay,” Hugh said, at either the talking mirror or the general situation.

“Hugh Jadhav, you must face your greatest enemy yet. One that cannot be defeated through ordinary means.”

Hugh had his fingers crossed.

“Hugh Jadhav, you must face… yourself.”

Hugh’s reflection rippled on the mirror’s surface. Its hand, his hand, reached toward the edge. Hugh’s body was still. A finger poked out the mirror’s surface. Then the hand, and the whole arm, and then the body. It, he, Hugh stood in front of him. Hugh was face to face to himself.

Hugh reacted immediately.

“Nuh-uh. No way. No way am I dealing with this right now!”

Hugh’s reflection cocked its head in confusion.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not dealing with some ‘shadow self’ bull and I’m not, I’m not gonna be ‘facing myself’ right now or, or whatever! Did you look at the clock today? It’s like, 8 in the morning! I have Chem, then Algebra, Divinity, AND a whole load of homework after this! I don’t have time to deal with some vague, metaphysical struggle right now; I have 1st Period! So just... Just cool it, okay?”

Hugh pinched his forehead and ripped out a sigh. “Okay, c’mere.” He held his hands to his double’s. “Look, I’m really sorry about this. I’m sorry that you didn’t get to present whatever moral or personal dilemma you were waiting for. And I’m really, really sorry that I don’t know how you’re gonna go on living your own independent existence after this. But I gotta go. I can’t be living your life. Live your own life. I believe in you. Love yourself. Wish you luck. Now, I’m out.”

With that, Hugh turned to the door to go to class.

“Wait, Mr. Jadhav!” The mirror shouted.

Hugh stopped, but did not turn around.

Hugh’s reflection stood in place.

“Mr Jadhav,” the mirror said, “we… we hate to admit it, but you should know. We, we’re not exactly sure this is what’s best for you either. Now you’ve got fine grades, you do but… we just can’t help feeling like you’re not getting much out of this experience.”

Hugh still did not turn. But he shook his head.

Hugh’s reflection still stood in place.

“Okay,” Hugh said. “Yeah, okay. Look, I’m doing just fine, aren’t I? I even got some extra credit done so. There you have it.”

The mirror inhaled and exhaled silently. Light gleamed off its reflective breath. “Yes, we suppose so. Hugh, we…”

The mirror stared at Hugh, and Hugh’s reflection.

“Yeah?”

“Well. You can go to class now, Mr. Jadhav.”

“Thanks.”

Hugh, with his backpack, his sweater vest, his pin, his coffee, reached at the door knob. The cold metal licked his palm. He paused. A second of thought rose in his mind. Just a second. He twisted the handle. The thought died in its tracks.

“I’m sorry too, okay? I’m just trying to get through school.”

Hugh pushed the doorknob and walked through.

#writing #prose #short story #hugh jadhav and the many magical journeys

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