[ID: two flags, both having three curved outer stripes and a semicircle in the bottom centre of the flag. the sections on the first flag go gold, gray-tan, green, and dark brown. the sections on the second flag go dark purple, red, muted red, and dark brown. end IDs]
Fiesterypt and Guiltrypt
[PT: Fiesterypt and guiltrypt. end PT]
Fiesterypt: a chokebt (chokrypt gender) that's related to financial stress
Guiltrypt: a chokebt that's related to heavy, maybe endless guilt, guilt that's been repressed but yet still affects you
these are both for day 1 of our coining event, for the prompt Chokrypt!!
@aetherive @en8y @queeerrmogaigremlin @neopronouns @hoardicboy @liom-archive @enderluna @kiruliom @mogai-sunflowers @local-yurei @revenant-coining @thecoffeecrew404 @noxwithoutstars @synderscug @termsfromceefax @ashenvanity
19 notes
·
View notes
thinking about you laying in bed with bakugou and lightly tracing the messy edges of the scar in the middle of his chest, hardly able to comprehend how deep that wound runs. it had already been there for years by the time you'd met him, but sometimes you see it and are unable to swallow the fact that—at one time—you were alive and he wasn't.
very quietly, you say, "it's crazy to think how easily i could have missed you,"
because it's not every day you meet and fall in love with a man that's died and come back. if fate is destined and soulmates are real, you imagine the two separate paths of your lives traveling parallel, in sync—and his breaking away for one horrible moment, torn from you before you even knew it.
bakugou is half-asleep, you know, but he shifts until his chin is lightly nudging your forehead, and speaks into your hair. "nah," he murmurs, voice thick and slow and slurred. "would'a found you eventually."
and somehow, you can't find it in your heart to doubt him.
2K notes
·
View notes
ok im waffling on about fallout instead of having breakfast but i saw a criticism of how the prisoners were treated that's stuck with me.
spoilers!
so i think the criticism wasn't incorrect, per se: it condemned the way the show portrayed the vault dweller's naive intention to rehabilitate their murderous captives. it found fault with a common, and horrible, message that tv shows like to say, which is that carcerial violence and even the death penalty is the only effective way to deal with criminals, who are a fundamentally Bad category of human. im sick of that message too! but i think that wasn't what was going on here, actually.
so like, the vault dwellers had only ever experienced violent loss the once, and didn't really know how to cope other than denial and repression of the ordeal. but they were all hopeful and enthusiastic that their prisoners, the invaders that came to kill them all and take their stuff, could be eventually welcomed into the community as their comrades. the champions of this cause were nebbishy dorks and painfully out of touch academics. this is pretty normal for how prison reformers are portrayed, if extremely fucking annoying for those of us who ARE in favor of prison reform.
but so of course when the son of the former overseer, Norm, speaks up and suggests killing the prisoners, because why should they share resources with invaders who explicitly wanted to keep hurting them? why should they show mercy to their attackers? everyone is appalled by this suggestion. because they had to reinvent the whole concept of vengeance right then and there, because grudges and cycles of violence are anathema to a bottle society like theirs. they have been raised all their lives to forgive and forget and now, put to the test, they're recommitting to this ethos: get along, let the past go, look towards the future, believe the best of everyone.
but the prisoners die, anyway. the prisoners are killed with rat poison. and the thing is that Norm who suggested it didn't do it himself. and the prison guard who's blamed for it, even though she privately agreed with Norm that the prisoners are dangerous and unforgiveable, she didn't do it either. it's not a moment of triumphant, cathartic vengeance and it doesn't prove that there's no way to negotiate with terrorists and invaders but kill them like vermin because that's not what the message is meant to be.
the message is that norm stands there in the middle of these inconvenient prisoners, these corpses dressed in his own people's uniforms, and he looks at the new overseer. and he knows that she killed them, and she knows that he knows. she wanted him to know. this is her message and he's reading her loud and clear. and he doesn't look like a guy who's just been backed up by authority, who's just been validated in his desire for the ultimate control over those who have wronged him.
he's scared and pale and the music is ominous as fuck. and he's inside the cell, he's directly in the middle of it.
because what just happened is that he realized his entire society is being held prisoner, and the overseer is the one with the rat poison. and that he doesn't know, anymore, what freedom and safety and justice actually mean, just that he doesn't have them and he doesn't know where to find them.
that's what that scene meant. not that rehabilitative justice is a pathetic delusion of people who have no idea how to make hard choices.
but that before you advocate for killing prisoners, you might want to see how big that prison is, first.
and which side of the bars you're standing on.
629 notes
·
View notes
i am so terribly in the mood to write angst 🥺 like. like maybe. ex-husband bakugou 🥺
not so fresh out of your divorce, but — having a little boy — life with him is so intricately tangled. far too deeply rooted to ever be out of each other's hair. more often than not, he brings your son to his parent's house if he's called in to work, but — sometimes it's after midnight and he doesn't want to have another argument with his mom about how he's working too much. be reminded that this is how he lost you in the first place. mitsuki's disappointment has always stung because she reacts so typically in fury, and this distaste is always whispered and low, serious enough that her reprimands sink to the pit of his stomach.
and sometimes — he just wants to check on you. your house. if there's anything he can bring you or that you need or that he can fix, if you want. sometimes he just wants to hear your voice, and watch the way your lips sound out his name.
"aw," you pout playfully in the doorway despite the puffiness to your eyes, at having been woken up. "my sleepy baby."
your son is knocked out on his dad's shoulder, drooling through the material of his shirt, and you step up to take him but — katsuki doesn't let go. not yet. it leaves you still within close range, rubbing a small hand over the kid's back. there's a residual heat lingering around your body from the blankets you've no doubt been swaddled in, and he imagines you bundled up with his little boy. how close and sweet the two of you will be, after he's gone.
"is that—" you gasp, making a face that has his lips twitching with the urge to smile; instead his frown deepens. "is that a thumb in his mouth?"
a sting starts deep within the sockets of his eyes, and he rolls them, feigning nonchalnce. "he's already pissed 'cause he's congested, so whatever."
it earns him a pleased hum; victorious, in letting the kid indulge his shitty habits. "picking your battles, i see."
and the two of you are left in the shadow of something, cold, despite the stove light deep in the background of your place. finally, your son is passed off, and you cradle him even though he's getting too big to be held like that, but katsuki doesn't say anything. there's a part of him that wants this image to stick for a little while longer. there's a part of him that wants this to hurt.
"do you think you'll be back before the morning?"
"uh," he swallows, knuckling at one of his eyes. "don't know. this shit with half 'n half is—" probably gonna keep him up until the early afternoon, but you'll only worry if he tells you, and you've done that enough.
"okay," you shrug, swaying slowly back and forth as you nestle your cheek in your son's wild blonde hair. "that's fine. i can drop him off with your dad on the way to work, yeah?" all you get is a grunt of affirmation; doesn't seem like he'll avoid the argument with the old hag afterall. "hey, while i have you, i was gonna say—do you wanna come in, or something?"
fuck, if he doesn't want to. how easily he could sink into your couch and your voice, relaxed for the first time in — he doesn't know how long. he is officially A Dad, ready to fall asleep the minute he sits with his head back for even a minute. you'll offer him tea that he won't take, because it'll keep you in the kitchen too long, out of sight.
the soft, safe image of his little family under one roof again makes his stomach churn, and he has to rip himself out of the daydream lest he fall prey to it; he's here for a reason, afterall.
"i gotta—"
"oh, duh," you swing your sleeping little boy gently for emphasis, smile dim in the doorway. "i just wanted to say, if you're gonna be busy, i can plan the birthday party with your mom," a long kiss is pressed to your son's forehead and, minute as it is, katsuki doesn't miss the slight slump of your shoulders. "no big deal."
"no," he says it quick and fails to keep his voice even; when you look up at him, eyebrows raised, katsuki has to take a step back and breathe through his nose. "no, i—you don't hafta' —i just need to send you my schedule, and then we can...figure it out."
"you already have," voice soft, you press the words again into your son. despite them you smile gently, tender. raw. "and i don't remember tonight being on the roster."
so easily could you be hostile. hateful and angry and justified and it would be preferable to this bended knee you've taken; accepting of the life dynamight will always have, even if you're not able to stomach it. if only you could scream and smack him and chastise, then maybe it would be easier to leave.
but instead you just flicker, a light in the dark he'll never reach.
"sorry," is all he can say, teeth grit. the word depresses into his tongue and the weight of it makes him want to gag; he means it now — and every other moment he's failed you in.
you don't press the issue, because you're too kind. "our little baby," another pout works it's way to your lips and katsuki's chest collapses, heart thundering in the cavity he's had to make a home in. alone. "the big 5-0."
he snorts to clear the frog in his throat. "he's gonna be 5, not 50."
"oh," you blink at him owlishly, and then burst into a small fit of laughter that he can't help but to ease at. to yearn for. "i'm half-asleep, you can't hold that against me."
there's a reason he's here; now he's keeping you up and his time has run out, like it always has and always will. the silence that settles between you eats away at him until he is hollow enough to slip away.
you linger in the doorway, watching dutifully as he opens his car door and — katsuki takes one last look at you, another image he wants to last. another image he wants to hurt. sometime in the next 24 hours, when he manages to leave dynamight behind and crawl into his empty bed sheets, this is all he'll think about while chasing after a sleep that isn't so friendly when he's by himself.
hopefully in his dreams, at least, you'll be welcoming him home, instead of bidding him a quiet goodbye yet again.
1K notes
·
View notes