#your health matters so you should have the right to choose for you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dearestspirit · 5 months

Text

a note heard in heaven - 02

mizu x fem!reader | au based on the film the handmaiden | word count: 3,270 | warnings: mdni. this series will contain sexual and dark themes, including: abuse, sex, sexual assault/harrasment, period typical misogyny, murder, allusions to suicide, and period typical stigmas against mental health.

series masterlist | previous part | next part

You’re taking off out of the library faster than Mizu can keep up with. Struggling to steady the parasol over your head, she dreads the moment you’ll be inside; more aptly, she’s dreading the scolding she’s bound to receive due to you getting wet. She grunts, hurrying her walking to stay next to you. Nearly leaving her behind, you finally make it to your room, doors clattering open.

“I hate those books,” you grumble, perched over the sink in your personal bathroom. “They’re so… boring, they make me sick.”

Mizu watches as you retch, color drained from your face. In a panic, she strokes your back. However, you’re quick to wave her hand away, agitated. When the heaves of your chest finally slow to a halt, you press your heated forehead against the coolness of your sink. There’s a dry irritation in your throat and your eyes are scorched with pinpricks of tears. At the back of your mind you’re acutely aware of how unsightly you must look right now; the thought only serves to embarrass you further. Knuckles white from the grip you hold on the sink, you push to straighten yourself. When you do, you’re met with Mizu’s inquisitive gaze.

“Miss…?” She questions, but it’s not interrogative.

“I’m fine. Please go.” You tear yourself away from her eyes, finding you shrink under her authority despite her rank below you.

“You should-”

“Mizu, I’ve asked you to leave. Please.”

The disgruntled exhale from her nose is audible. She doesn’t speak another word to you before closing the bathroom door behind her, leaving you alone.

In the morning, when Mizu goes with all the other servant girls for breakfast, she finds one of them sniffling. Ise, she thinks, is the girl’s name. When Ise sees her, she skitters over, holding out Mizu’s missing shoe. You must have said something, either to Madame Kaji or the girl herself. Mizu scoffs and takes it back ungraciously. It’s no matter to her anymore, as she sits with her breakfast and listens to the chatter.

When whispers of The Count’s name pass through again, she almost snorts. He had been delayed yesterday, by something or other– she knew it probably had to do with the plan the two of them had. Something about making you wait, growing your anticipation. Some flirting tactic she had no interest in hearing about, especially not from Taigen. She’d never heard of any successful romances on his part, so she doubted he could know all that much about genuinely seducing a woman. Besides, your sheltered lifestyle meant you’d likely give your heart up in seconds once he threw some compliments and risque touches your way. Part of her was thrilled he’d finally be on his way here to get the plan truly in motion. With her bowls empty, she’s speeding to your room.

“Miss!” She calls for you.

The two of you hadn’t spoken since the incident last night. You hadn’t requested her presence at your bedside, choosing to derobe yourself.

But still, you smile when you hear her.

“Hello, Mizu.” You greet her, chin resting in your palm.

She stares at you like you’re mad. “Get up then, we’ve got to get you ready for the day. A bath, first.” Her hands take hold of your arms, guiding you into the bathroom.

With curtains drawn, the sunlight is dim, soaking the room in a gentle warmth. You watch as Mizu effortlessly prepares your tub, checking the temperature of the water. Satisfied, she gestures to you and your clothes.

“I’ll undress myself, thank you.” You mutter.

It’s been a few days of having Mizu as your new handmaiden, yet you insisted on taking care of clothing yourself. Despite it being a duty expected of her, she was nothing but respectful of your wishes. She tries to not stare as she hears the thudding of your elegant fabrics hitting the floor. Obviously, she’d have to bathe you, so she’d see everything. But it was just this once. You’d be swept up by The Count, then off to whatever madhouse would take you, and then…

“The Count is coming today.” She tells you, breaking herself out of whatever impending thought she had.

“That’s why you’ve set all this up.” You state, finally bare.

And then you’re dipping yourself into the water, carefully minding the table of soaps and oils Mizu had rolled over. Immersing yourself from the neck under, you bob back up to sit comfortably.

“Here,” Mizu mumbles, handing you a candy. “Back home, my aunts used to give candy to the babies they’d bathe.”

“So you’re treating me like a baby?” You chuckle, unwrapping the candy and savoring the sweetness of it.

“You’re like one, aren’t you? It’s as if you’re my baby.” She laughs– your heart stutters– scattering an assortment of floral petals into the bathwater.

Overkill, you’re sure, but it endears you. Your eyes follow her, her actions; she’s so dutiful in her work. A hush falls over the two of you. Mizu is concentrated, though when she sees your face fall, she stops. You’re pawing at the side of your jaw, letting out a broken groan of pain.

“Is something wrong?”

“I have a sharp tooth,” You whine. “When I eat… it cuts me.”

She hums in response, tilting your chin up with a hand. With her other, she drags a finger along the row of your teeth. When she comes across the pointed one, she hisses and steps back. At the table of objects next to her, she shuffles through, diligently searching for something.

“I remember,” You hear her call out. “One time, a relative used a thimble to grind down the sharp tooth of her son.”

Your teary eyes follow her as she hurries back to your side.

“Say ‘ah.’” She tells you, opening her mouth for you to mimic.

There’s a jolt in her at how comfortably you obey, how your lips part, how your mouth welcomes the intrusion.

Cradling your neck in her left hand, the thimble on her right thumb scrapes across your tooth. It’s a foreign feeling, one that brings along discomfort with it. You try your best to focus on the remnants of sugar on your tongue, the heat of your bathwater; but what helps the most is holding onto Mizu’s elbow. Her sleeve rolled up, you run your fingers back and forth as she continues her ministrations.

She suppresses a shiver at your touch– she can feel your knuckles tense when there’s a particularly uncomfortable drag of the thimble, she can feel the slight bite of pain as your nails sink into her skin. Even with the way her skin blooms red from your actions, you handle her with more nicety than she’d experienced before. Her eyes never stray far from your mouth, but…

But she follows the droplets that run down the bare flesh of your chest, meeting the water once more. It would be easy to let her left hand trail down, down your wet skin from pulse point to collarbone to the softness of your breasts that peek out just over the surface.

That fragile, delicate softness.

“All done.” She pulls her thumb from your mouth, mindful to not let the thimble hurt you on its exit.

You’re staring at her, eyes never leaving her own. You must’ve seen them lower and lower until no longer appropriate. She could sense the rush of heat to the tips of her ears. Depositing the thimble into the front pocket of her apron, she sits with her back to the tub.

“Go ahead and finish washing.” Her voice is husky, mouth dry.

She tries to not think about quenching her thirst with the water clinging to your body.

Palpable silence stays in the room until you’re clothed once more.

Mizu stands in the far corner, squinting as Taigen– playing as The Count, of course– greets you. The two of you had spent what felt like an agonizing amount of time going over your hair, makeup, and dress.

“Ah, you didn’t have to get all done up to see me.” He grins, laying the sleaze on thick.

A shy expression befalls you; the hint of a flirtatious smile.

“Your painting lessons, I promise they’ll be exhilarating for you,” Taigen winks, though he catches sight of Mizu in the mirror behind you. Turning, he opens his arms wide in a friendly gesture. “This must be your handmaiden! The one I so honorably recommended.”

Mizu wonders how the fuck he can go on and on without giving anyone else a chance to speak. Or have you been stunned into silence? Did you really think of him that highly already? “Yes, at your service.” She takes a shallow bow.

“Are you carrying out your duties well?” Taigen asks, stepping over to her. “It’ll make me look bad if you aren’t.”

“You picked perfectly for me.” You chime in behind him.

“So I did a good job,” That smarmy upturn of his lips is back again as he flicks a coin towards Mizu. “Take this, and keep taking good care of our Lady.”

She can barely contain her complaint, holding back a disgusted ‘ugh’ as he walks out of the room. You’re still over in your corner, looking demure. If Taigen were still in the room, he’d slap Mizu on the head and tell her to strike. So, she does.

“The Count sure is nice, isn’t he?” She plays up an exaggerated smile, fussing at your clothes to busy her hands.

You give a shrug in return, already heading back to your room before she can analyze your reaction and pinpoint your exact feelings for The Count.

Mizu’s breath runs ragged as she hurries to the guest room Taigen resides in. One of the other servant girls had fetched for her, claiming he needed Mizu for an errand. She knew that meant he had something important to tell her, though part of her felt remorse at having to leave your side. A loneliness swam in your eyes, that pout of yours betraying your usually stoic, posh demeanor. Your lips haunt her mind as she travels; the docile way they had parted upon request, or was it moreso a command? Did you care to discern the difference? Though, she supposes, someone like you deserves…

Taigen’s door slides open with an urgency that knocks the wind out of her. It nearly bounces back closed, before his hand stops it. Grabbing at Mizu’s sleeve, he tugs her into the room and shuts the door eagerly. She can’t even focus in time for Taigen to start hushedly whooping, arms waving in the air.

“Easy, idiot,” Mizu puffs, flipping that coin he’d given her back in his direction. “Did you really think you could fool me with that shit fake?”

To you, she’s been your handmaiden that does her duties to whatever standard you deem suitable to hold her to. If you said jump, she’d say how high. But Taigen knows better. He knows when someone tells her to jump, she asks how much.

And he knew that very well when he recruited her.

In that last month before Mizu came to be by your side, she was approached by the son of a local farmer. Taigen. The two lived in a poor, weary village. Little luxuries were afforded to them. It only made sense that in an unseen corner, thievery would thrive here. In that small hut on the outskirts of her home, Mizu would learn everything– pick-pocketing, forgery– and would grow to excel at it.

It’s why, when Taigen shows up in a suit far outside his price range, he’s quick to pick her out of the rest. He’s boasting of how grand a plan this is. How you have millions, and that your current fiance was looking for the same thing he was: getting their hands on that fortune. Taigen’s the one to claim he can snatch you right under that old man’s nose. Mizu almost retorts with a ‘what do you know about love?’ but she holds her tongue.

“After the job is done, you can get all of the mistress’ dresses and jewelry. Everyone here will get a share of fifty thousand.” There’s gasps as he finishes speaking. To them, fifty thousand is more money than they’d all seen in their lifetime, combined.

Mizu nods with a hand on her chin, tapping her foot. “On top of the fifty, I want my own hundred thousand. That’s my price.”

Taigen agrees effortlessly. He insists that Mizu go through the next few days ‘training’ with him. She had never been a maid of any sort before, born into criminality, so she needed at least some preparation. Otherwise this plan would be doomed from the start. For starters, he spends way too long teaching her how to make herself blush. Calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ who would succumb to the inferiority complex of a poor handmaiden. He makes sure she knows to not let you think; no questions, take care of everything in a matter-of-fact way. Honestly, Mizu cares little for whatever Taigen lectures her on. He’s just like her– a poor criminal looking for a way out. She knows she’s intelligent, and she knows how to use people to her advantage. Taigen, on the other hand, is rarely ever self-aware of the drivel that comes out of his mouth.

At some point, the time passes and Mizu’s faced with her last night in the village. She sits on her knees behind the old woman who’s been taking care of her her whole life. Mizu knows it's thanks to her that she's still here. Not quite a mother, but close enough, after losing her own. Something somber settles in the room, Mizu exhaling a sigh.

“When my mother was hanged,” She starts, combing through the elder’s hair. “Did she cry?”

“Mizu,” Her voice has become frail in the past years, age beginning to get to her. “After your mother had you, she told how she was the luckiest woman. She had no reason to cry, not even when faced with her death. You take after her so much… what a thief you’ll be, one day.”

Taigen snaps a few times, taking Mizu out of her memory. “Look, when I give the signal… ‘fully ripe’, make sure that she and I are alone.”

Mizu raises an eyebrow. “She’s very sheltered, Taigen,” she strolls over to the large bed he’s been provided, flopping backwards onto it. “You could touch her intimately and she still won’t know what you want.”

“Well, do your part then. Everything is because of me.” Taigen states. “Like… her nails growing longer because I’m here. Things like that, she won’t know any better.”

Mizu’s mind drifts. Hand stuck down the front pocket of her apron, she finds herself fiddling with the thimble she left there. You and Taigen, alone… He said he wanted to devour you. She remembers now. Someone like you, she remembers, deserves the touch of someone tender. The Count has teeth, claws given to him as the birthright of being a man in this world. A dark cloud simmered in her at his signal. ‘Fully ripe,’ as if you’re something to be eaten, the only fragment left being an empty pit. No, she had seen you– had seen the flush of your skin, the supple ways your body curved. You were meant for more. You were meant to be given to, not taken from.

But she couldn’t. She had to feed you to an insatiable man. From her palm to the white blades of his teeth, she’d comply. No victimless crimes truly exist, she reasoned. If she had to take advantage of yet another person to get to her goal, what did it matter? She repeats it to herself a few times, a mantra to clear her mind: It has to be done.

“Give her these,” Taigen hands a box to Mizu. “From me, of course.”

Gracefully, you pull the golden rope away from the box, admiring the floral pattern atop it. When you open it, revealing the earrings inside, your face lights up.

Taking one of them, you hold it up to your ear and look in the mirror. “Mizu, these sapphires are so blue!”

Mizu nods, watching your reflection. ‘They suit you’ almost tumbles off her lips. It’ll do her good to remember those will be hers as soon as Taigen gets rid of you.

“They remind me of your eyes, don’t they?” You grin. “Just as pretty, too.”

“Actually, it’s blue spinel.” Mizu mutters, ignoring your previous comment.

“What?” You’re frowning.

“But that’s just as expensive as sapphires.” She’s sputtering and correcting herself, catching her slip up.

“How do you know that?” You’re questioning her, eyes squinted.

“My old mistress taught me. That’s all.” Mizu gulps, rarely ever nervous, but she can’t mess up this far into the scheme.

You nod, unrolling the piece of paper The Count had included in his gift. Mizu exhales, glad you’ve moved your mind onto something else. She lets her eyes scan you as you read, thinking back to what you said. They remind me of your eyes. Just as pretty, too. It’s not hard for her to remember all the times she’d been looked at in fear, cursed at, beaten. All the children of the village who had thrown rocks at her, chased after her. Why were you so different? What gave you the right? The boiling heat of anger starts to crawl under her skin. She has no reason to trust you; at the end of the day, once you learn you’ve been betrayed, you’d take those comments back in an instant. You’d call her ugly. A demon. She knows this. She’ll lock the sound of your voice in the far reaches of her mind and she’ll never think of you again, only ever your money. It has to be done.

So why can’t she stop looking at you? Has she ever seen anything so lovely?

There’s a dinner tonight. You, your ‘husband’, and The Count.

Mizu is sure to pull out one of your fanciest dresses for the night, telling you The Count will love it. You look shy again, putting your cheek in your palm as you coyly smile. A hint of disgust brews in her at your awe of him. But when she follows behind you, down the steps to the dining room, she can’t help but let her eyes roll over your figure. Your hair is up. Would you squirm if she pressed her lips there, on your neck? Even down to where your dress dips, exposing your shoulder blades? Between them, as she pushed your sleeves past your arms? And what if The Count did the same? He’s trashy, unable to hold something so vulnerable in his hands with any grace. It wouldn’t happen. At least, not while Mizu was in the room. If she left you alone with him… would you?

She cares so much because you’re a poor, poor girl, is what she decides. Really, she just feels bad at how badly your heart is going to break when you realize The Count doesn’t love you in return. Anything else is simple curiosity– a destitute criminal pondering on the lifestyle of someone so privileged.

A chair clashes to the floor as soon as Mizu holds the door open for you. Taigen’s standing up, mouth open like a fish out of water.

“You’re incredible!” He yells, gaping shamelessly. “Breathtakingly beautiful.”

Mizu’s fist clenches, nearly drawing blood with her nails.

He’s so full of shit.

a/n: so on the last part i had some people interested in a taglist!! personally, i would feel uncomfortable doing that as there will be eventual nsfw content in this. maybe i'll change my mind, but for now i rather not to avoid minors/ageless blogs being tagged. either way i hope you're all enjoying the read!! i'll try to keep getting chapters consistently out if i can <3

#mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #bes x reader #bes x you

138 notes · View notes

thornpixie · 9 months

Text

I am Team Jeremiah, but that doesn’t mean I hate Conrad. However, I find it very hard to feel any sympathy for him: an essay.

I truly hope Conrad finds happiness. I just don’t think he and Belly are right for each other. And no, I haven’t read the books (you can read my feelings on that argument in another post I’ve done lol), so I’m just going off the show.

I am Team Jeremiah, I make no secret of it. But that’s because he is just the better choice for Belly. Not because he is better than Conrad, full stop. They both have their flaws. Should Jeremiah have made out with his brothers ex girlfriend like that, without at least talking to him first? Hell no. But come on - the guy tried to resist. He tried so hard. Belly kept pushing. And let’s remember what Conrad said to Belly at the start of the season after they kissed - ‘Do you want to be with him?’ ‘Being with you is all I’ve ever wanted.’ ‘Okay so be with me then.’

Belly choosing Conrad over Jeremiah was all that mattered back then, not how it affected anyone else, even though she was quasi-dating his brother for most of the summer. He didn’t give a fuck about Jeremiah and if it wasn’t for Belly saying no, he would have flaunted her immediately, even knowing she had kissed Jere a few times. When he asked Jeremiah for his blessing, I don’t believe he did that for any other reason than Belly would continue to distance herself from him until she believed Jere was over it. Conrad did not go to Jeremiah to make sure he truly was okay. He was ticking a box for Belly. Jeremiah was quite obviously not okay with it but Conrad chose to ignore that because he wanted Belly. We saw that in what he told Belly about it afterwards. He took the parts of the conversation that suited his narrative and the outcome he wanted, and he ran with it. And it worked. Jeremiah got hurt, and Conrad didn’t care, because he had Belly.

Their relationship wasn’t this epic love story. I still don’t understand where it came from. I understand Belly’s crush. But when and how and why did Conrad start loving her? The writers of the show seemed to just say ‘he just does’ and we are supposed to say ‘okay yeah sound makes sense.’ I just don’t understand the timeline. Besides that though… Look, I understand and empathise with the fact that his mom was dying while they were dating, and that he was struggling with his mental health. It was a lot for an 18 year old to deal with. (Of course, Jeremiah was dealing with it, too, but Conrad stans conveniently forget that). But Belly suffered in that relationship because of it, and no one should have to do that. To me, it seemed like she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to pull away. Scared. Maybe Conrad wasn’t going to break up with her at prom, and she jumped the gun, but it says a lot about how she was feeling that she immediately assumed that. A relationship shouldn’t be like that.

Jeremiah, though… from day one he was open and honest with her. He asked her straight up if she could ever love him like she did Conrad and she said YES. Belly said herself - Jeremiah is always there when she needs him. That’s what you need in a life partner. And fuck me, the passion they have. A perfect blend of supportive and passionate. Tie that man DOWN. He is supportive, he defends her, he speaks his mind, he is honest and reliable (the only time we saw him ‘let her down’ in any way was when he missed the dance at the Deb Ball and jeez, he had a damn good reason so no one can blame him). He makes her laugh. They can have fun together, but can also have the serious conversations. I married my best friend and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s honestly amazing to know you have that person who truly sees you, loves and supports you. Who is your comfort. Jeremiah is that for Belly. Honestly, I could go on and on about how Jeremiah is the perfect match for her - and the chemistry between Gavin and Lola definitely adds to it, but it isn’t the only factor - but everyone has probably given up reading by now…

Both boys have been dealt a shit hand, losing their mother. Both boys have made mistakes and have flaws. But they both have incredibly good qualities, too. Personally, I just think that Jeremiah is more suited to Belly, and they will have a happy, healthy relationship.

Also, the way she kissed him back in that episode… I’m sorry but there’s no way she’s not jumping his bones when they start officially dating. It wouldn’t make sense to me. She was smiling against his mouth and knotting her fingers in his hair, and it was ‘Wattpad level hot’, as Taylor would say. Considering she’s already done the deed, I can’t see any logical way for the writers to incorporate a ‘no intimacy’ storyline for them. Especially after that scene in particular, but also their first kiss in the pool back in season one, and the booby fondling in the car - WHERE BELLY STRAIGHT UP SAID SHE WAS NOT NERVOUS BECAUSE IT WAS JEREMIAH. Sorry, but let’s be real - there’s not a chance in hell those two are not banging the brains out of each other. And good on them. So I hope that is a change made to the books. Furthermore, show-Jeremiah cheating? I cannot see it happening. I really really hope it doesn’t.

IF Bonrad must be endgame, then please, Jenny Han, I beg of you to right your wrongs and not assassinate Jeremiah’s character to reach that ending. There are better ways to do it. But I maintain that the better choice for Belly is Jeremiah. And Conrad should meet someone new who is more emotionally mature and able to deal with his very obvious mental health problems. Someone he feels he can open up to about them. Because, as a sufferer myself, you need that support. Belly doesn’t provide that for Conrad and, as a result, Conrad doesn’t give Belly what she needs either.

One last parting thought - what the fuck happened to Jeremiah and Steven’s friendship? Jeremiah told Steven how much he cared for Belly in season one. Why did literally no one listen to him? And how did no one see it in the way his entire personality seemed to shift in season two. He’s lost his sparkle. YES most of that is because of his mom, but is everyone really that blind to him? No one notices that poor guy. He’s completely overshadowed by Conrad in every aspect. Everyone just expects Jeremiah to roll over and let everyone else have their happy ending while he gets trampled on because he’ll ‘just get over it’. Come on. WRITERS - DO BETTER. There is too much phenomenal acting talent in this show to let bad writing and tropes ruin it.

In conclusion, I haven’t written this much on one topic since I did my degree and I am obsessed with this show. Goodbye.

#belly conklin #jeremiah fisher #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #belly x jeremiah #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher #team jeremiah #j

319 notes · View notes

princess-spock · 7 months

Text

Pronouns and Gender in the Good Omens Universe

Neil recently said: “Angels aren't humans or mortals. They don't have genders. There isn't a pronoun you can use for them that's wrong, and unless you can speak in the tongue of the angels there's not a pronoun you can use for them that's actually right. Ditto Demons.”

Obviously, no one's going to debate Neil's pronouncements about the series! The thing is, though, that CONSISTENT gendered pronouns are used in the book, and in the series, and by Neil himself when referring to these characters. There's significant gray area here, no matter how you slice it. So...

(Who are we?

@Princess-Spock: I'm non-binary, specifically genderfluid. My pronouns are they/them for simplicity. My primary gender is agender, and is aroace; I have a wide range of other genders and sexualities.

@Twilightcitysky: I’m an allosexual, queer, cis woman with a background in healthcare, specifically sexual/reproductive health and mental health.)

Pronouns, ideally, should reflect gender… but what is gender? Gender is something we feel inside our heads. For most people, that matches up with their genitals… But not always!

Genitals do NOT determine gender!

Therefore:

A transwoman is a WOMAN, regardless of what genitals she has.

A transman is a MAN, regardless of what genitals he has.

A non-binary person is non-binary regardless of what genitals they have.

A genderfluid person might sometimes have gender that matches their genitals, but at least part of the time does not. (A gender that varies in intensity rather than going between genders is genderflux, not genderfluid.)

A couple of those terms need to be clarified:

• Non-binary means not having a “binary gender,” in other words not being one of the 2 most familiar genders, “exclusively male all the time” or “exclusively female all the time.” (Remember, bi = 2.) Non-binary does NOT mean being genderless! A non-binary person could be genderless/agender… or they might have partial gender, mixed genders, fluctuating genders (fluid or flux), xenogender, or non-specific gender.

Note: Not all non-binary people use they/them. Like everyone else, they get to choose their own pronouns. It's never acceptable to assign pronouns of your choosing to them, or to assume that they must be they/them without confirmation.

• Genderfluid means having a gender that changes periodically; a genderfluid person can have any number (other than 1) or combination of genders. The gender of a genderfluid person might change after a few minutes, or after hours, days, even months. Genderfluidity refers to gender ONLY; it does NOT refer to changes in presentation.

And what is presentation, aka gender presentation or gender expression? It’s what gender a person chooses to portray with their appearance. This can include choosing whether to wear male or female clothing, shoes and accessories… hair length and style… whether or not makeup is used… whether or not body shaping garments are worn, such as a binder to flatten the breasts, or padding to create curves... and whether or not there is facial hair, whether naturally grown or otherwise. If someone has a presentation that differs from their biological sex, they might be trans, or it could be cosplay, drag, cross-dressing, a costume, being gender non-conforming (GNC), as a sociopolitical statement (eg butch lesbians), or just for fun.

Presentation does NOT determine gender!

Some people are forced to wear whatever their culture dictates. Or whatever their family will accept. GNC people choose to not wear clothing that conforms to their gender. For some people, presentation is irrelevant, and they just wear whatever is easiest.

Because there are no elements of presentation that are specifically for any of the non-binary genders, non-binary people are typically left with some form of androgynous or GNC presentation. (@Princess-Spock: it's REALLY tricky to create a look that is neither male nor female, especially for those who, like me, don’t reshape their bodies.)

If a genderfluid person's gender changes when they aren't near their closet, their presentation might not match their gender, even if they’d prefer it to. Sometimes it's a matter of what they can afford; not everyone has the luxury of having multiple wardrobes. (@Princess-Spock: For those of us who are fortunate to have little or no dysphoria, we might skip customizing our presentation much of the time, just for simplicity.)

And just FYI:

Sexual orientation does NOT determine gender!

Specific to the fandom, there is no connection whatsoever between being asexual and being genderless/agender, or to not possessing genitals. Just because someone belongs in one of those categories does NOT mean or even suggest that they belong in the other categories. It is absolutely positively NOT correct to suggest that angels and demons are asexual simply because they don't have gender and/or genitals. (They might still be ace, of course!)

A few useful terms (these are not complete descriptions by any means):

• Asexual, sometimes abbreviated as ace, is a spectrum of sexual orientations in which a person feels little or no sexual attraction to anyone. Being asexual does NOT necessarily mean being aromantic. Also, being asexual does NOT mean not having sexual feelings, or not having and enjoying sex, although these things are true for those who are sex-averse.

• Aromantic is a spectrum of romantic attractions in which a person feels little or no romantic attraction to anyone. Being aromantic does NOT necessarily mean being asexual. And an aromantic person can still make loving connections, exchange affection like kissing or holding hands, and of course still have sex.

• Aroace refers to people who are both asexual and aromantic.

How does all this apply to the Good Omens universe? In the book, it says, “angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort”; Neil has referred to this for the series as well. Canon isn't explicit, but most of us interpret this as, "they don’t have genitals unless they choose to." Lack of GENITALS is then often wrongly seen as lack of GENDER. Neil said, "Neither the angels nor the demons, as far as I’m concerned, are actually gendered as humans are." But, he uses human gender terms; Crowley is genderfluid, angels are non-binary (it seems like he means that they’re genderless, but that's NOT what non-binary means). Confusingly, in a 2018 post, he said:

"The angels and demons in Good Omens aren’t human, they aren’t male (nor are they female). Not that they couldn’t be male etc if they wanted to make that effort. As it says in Good Omens: ‘For those of angel stock or demon breed, size, and shape, and composition, are simply options’."

That sure looks like, YES, they CAN have gender!

More confusingly, Neil also says that his personal headcanon is NOT canon, canon is only what's in the book and the series... and none of this appears in either place. This makes the gender and thus pronoun issues a tad ambiguous. We agree 100% with Neil that people should embrace their headcanons and allow others to do the same, and so use whatever pronouns they want, and allow others to do the same. Here's how WE see Crowley and Aziraphale's genders and pronouns:

It is absolutely impossible, by definition, for a genderfluid person to be genderless ALL the time. Therefore, if Crowley is genderfluid, he MUST have gender at least part of the time! (And if he can have gender, so can all other angels and demons!)

When Mrs. Sandwich tells Crowley that he's a good lad, and he responds that he's neither, that's in line with what most genderfluid people would say; having a gender some days but not others is different from BEING that gender. Crowley has chosen a male body (male genitals, hairy chest), facial hair, generally masculine attire, and male pronouns, so it's reasonable to assume that his chosen gender is male most of the time.

We assume that he was female when he chose to wear female clothing (an abaya) in the crucifixion scene. He may also have been female during his stint as Nanny Ashtoreth, but that might have just been presentation.

During the scene where he's in heaven in S2, he has a non-binary presentation; the tracksuit is androgynous, and the accessories (headband, sparkly gold tie, fingernails, and toenails) are feminine. He might be experiencing a non-binary gender at this time.

(@Princess-Spock: Genderfluidity is very complicated. Even when Crowley "looked" female, he might have been experiencing a variety of different genders; remember, neither genitals nor presentation determine gender! In fact, since Crowley had adopted a female appearance out of necessity, not because that was his true gender at that time, he might even never have actually BEEN female during the time he was "looking" female!)

What about Aziraphale? He has all the “male stuff” that Crowley does (facial and chest hair, deep voice, etc). He has an unwaveringly masculine presentation; his hair is ALWAYS short throughout history (even when Gabriel’s is long), and his sartorial choices are traditionally and formally male (pocket watch on a chain, French cuffs with cufflinks), with no hint of the modern androgyny of jeans and T-shirts… strong evidence that his chosen gender is male.

Neil always refers to Aziraphale and Crowley as he/him (he stated that Crowley was presenting female as Nanny Ashtoreth and at the crucifixion, but no pronoun is used either time). The book and the script book always refer to Aziraphale and Crowley as he/him. Aziraphale and Crowley always refer to each other as he/him. Michael and David have always referred to Aziraphale and Crowley as he/him. So, he/him is our personal choice.

What about the pronouns of other supernatural characters?

Beelzebub:

He/him in the book. She/her in the script book. For S1, Neil said, “I don’t think there were any. Probably Zzzzzzir.” They/them for S2 (“but they're always such a little ray of sunshine” in E3).

Dagon:

In the book, no pronouns are used, but all male titles; Lord, Master, Under-Duke. He/him in the script book. No pronouns used in the show or by Neil.

Muriel:

They/them canonically, but referred to by Quelin Sepulveda, the actress who plays Muriel, as she/they. It seems like the gender perception of the actor who embodies a character has to count for something; if Quelin was perceiving Muriel as partly female, that's an intrinsic part of who Muriel IS. We think we should honor that. (Neil has had plenty of opportunity to debate Quelin's usage, but never has.)

(Food for thought: If we accept this sort of "mixed" pronoun usage as valid in the Good Omens universe, it could apply to other angels or demons, not just to Muriel!)

Archangels played by actresses:

In the script book, when Aziraphale speaks to the 4 archangels, it says; “The room of angels in slick suits. There are four of them, male and female.” It doesn't specify WHO is female, though, and ALL the archangels have non-female pronouns elsewhere in the book, so...?

Uriel:

"He" in the script book, no pronouns otherwise.

Michael:

“He” in the script book. Neil has used "they."

Angels and demons played by male actors:

All of them are referred to with male pronouns, both within the series and by Neil. However:

Hastur:

Briefly had a female appearance in the scene where Aziraphale and Crowley are kidnapped, but no pronouns were used at the time. In the script book, the “lady tourist” is referred to as "she" when whacking Crowley… and then is referred to as "her" even AFTER transforming into Hastur with a wig.

Ligur:

In the book, Ligur was intriguingly referred to as “it” while he was dying, but immediately thereafter was referred to as "he." That paragraph appears almost word for word in the script book; it refers to him as "he" instead of "it."

Sandalphon:

Referred to in the script book as "it."

Metatron:

"He" in the book and season 2.

God:

Neil said: Jesus uses "Father". Aziraphale uses "She" pronouns for God and Crowley uses "They". I don't think the God in the Good Omens TV universe has a gender.

In the book, Aziraphale, Crowley and Metatron refer to God as He. In the script book, Aziraphale refers to God as She, and Crowley refers to God as They and She.

We think the bottom line is: These are FICTIONAL characters inhabiting a universe where there are few canonical rules for pronouns or gender for supernatural beings. This is a perfect vehicle for choice, which has so much importance to the story. You may start out on opposite sides, you may start out as a genderless being, you may start out as a sexless being, but you can choose something different for yourself. The importance of choice in Good Omens is one of the things that makes it great!

There’s a lot of fic and art that depicts the characters in different ways; everyone should feel comfortable portraying them the way they choose without the worry that someone is going to be upset with them. We’ve both seen a lot of comments to the tune of, “you’re not using the correct pronouns” or “that’s not the correct sexual orientation,” and that’s not good fandom etiquette. Being open-minded and kind to one another as we flesh out this universe for ourselves is just basic courtesy. Neil himself has said that in fandom, any interpretation is valid! The Good Omens fandom is largely a microcosm of the queer community; we need to practice acceptance amongst ourselves, so that we can stand together against those in the wider world who want to tear us down!

Anyone who wants to discuss personal gender issues can feel free to message @Princess-Spock; remember that if you ask anonymously, there's no way to reply to you!

#GoodOmens #GOS2 #Crowley #Aziraphale #NeilGaiman #IneffableGender #IneffablePronouns #GoodOmensGender #GoodOmensPronouns #GoodOmensMeta #GoodOmensSeason2

169 notes · View notes

peace-love-and-french-toast · 2 months

Text

Severus Snape rant

Disclaimer: I don't support JK Rowling's views and I'm not a TERF. TERFs, DNI for you.

Sorry for ranting, y'all. I'll try to keep things quick (note from the future: be warned. I failed). Spoilers and mentions of friendship toxicity and bullying under the cut.

By the way, for this I am generally talking about regular canon. When I discuss things people think about this, the headcanons are generally assumed to go alongside regular canon to complement it. I understand that there are fix-it fics out there where everyone is happy, and while I love that, I'm talking about how JK Rowling let it play out.

UPDATE:

Don’t interact with this post if you only want to insult me/my writing style. I am not accusing anyone of doing this, but I can see that there is a very definitive downward spiral, and I don’t want to see the bottom of it. However, I am willing to listen to arguments until things turn into personal attacks.

I don’t care that much about Snape: just a few lines on a page. I understand people have strong opinions on him (me too!). That’s fine. But I’m a real person, just like all the people on this platform (well, except bots). Let’s embrace that, and focus on the fact that we are all, in the end, Harry Potter fans.

Kat out.

Let me start with this: Severus Snape shouldn't be with Lily.

To keep to the simple stuff and the things most people can agree on first, no one "deserves" Lily. In this post, I was nearly guilty myself of talking like this, but please keep in mind: Lily Evans is not some kind of consolation prize, something given out to whoever is deemed the most worthy, the most angsty, whatever. Regardless of Snape's virtues (or lack of them: but give me a sec) he won't somehow earn the right to be in a romantic pairing with Lily. In all the stuff on the table in terms of how Lily viewed Snape, she wanted a platonic relationship. So that's part of what I have an issue with: talking about canon as if there was any part of romantic thing on the table. Lily never had a crush on Snape. It was a one-sided thing.

Now, to controversy. Let's address some common reasons for why people say Lily shouldn't have ditched Snape and why these shouldn't excuse his behavior. Keep in mind I'm talking about things that happened before Lily's death, because after death doesn't really matter to her. She's dead by then.

Snape had a bad home/school life.

That's true. But he then chose to continue the cycle of pain by joining a pureblood supremacist group and calling fellow students slurs?

2. The Marauders did some terrible stuff to him.

I really need a disclaimer here. THIS WAS TERRIBLE, AND I HATED IT, AND THE MARAUDERS WERE COMPLETELY IN THE WRONG HERE.

But this post isn't defending the Marauders, it's arguing that Lily was justified in choosing to let go of their friendship.

Anyway, this is an irrelevant excuse for why Lily should remain friends with him, because she thought this was terrible too... and then Severus screamed a slur at her when she was trying to help him. Way to go, Snape.

3. He loved Lily.

Hold up. Stop the clock.

Wut.

Okay, this needs to be a new section. Let's call it:

Being In Love With Someone Doesn't Excuse Your Actions Towards Them

Quick story time, cause this section uses an extensive metaphor. IRL, I used to be best friends with this girl. She was toxic and refused to change.

Her excuses for why I should keep hanging out with her?

Current mental health situation.

Things just "slipped out". (Yeah, Snape LITERALLY USED THIS EXACT EXCUSE)

I was really important to her (So was Lily to Snape)

I stopped being friends with this girl regardless, because her actions harmed my mental health, isolated me, etc.

(And before someone says friendship is different etc. she had a crush on me two Valentine's days in a row and I'm unsure if she still does)

These are all excuses. Let's define that word for a second.

"attempt to lessen the blame attaching to (a fault or offense); seek to defend or justify." -Oxford Languages from Google.

Contrast with an apology, where someone actually tries to make things better. Snape constantly gives excuses. His apology comes much, much too late in the form of begging Lily. Now, with my own toxic friend, she also claimed to want to make things better.

In the case of both Snape and Toxic Friend, they'd continually insisted it wasn't their fault, ignoring the problems in the relationship and not making an effort to fix them. By the time Lily and I broke things off, we'd made up our minds. We turned away and felt good about it, because they negatively impacted our lives.

Maybe Snape was in love. Maybe my friend really wanted to be friends with me. Both are probable.

Still, neither followed through on the steps necessary for a good friendship.

Depersonification, aka Lily is a Person Not A Shiny Toy, Severus

Crack open your books, hit play on the movie, or simply recall as we all remember how Snape looked at Lily.

In the books (won't mention the movies because I didn't watch them) he looks at Lily and Harry sees "undisguised greed" in his eyes. Um...

Snape's fine with hurting Petunia, figuratively and literally.

He ignores what Lily is actually trying to say to him once she tells him what he wants to hear.

And calling her Mudblood. (Can't help myself interrupting here: I myself never 'just accidentally' call someone a racial slur. That's because I don't use them, so they aren't exactly waiting on the tip of my tongue).

All of the things he does are in there for a reason. JK Rowling is trying to unsettle us, and she succeeded. Snape seems to view Lily as an accomplishment, an achievement, a plaything to be admired.

Why?

He never takes Lily's feelings into consideration. Not once until it negatively impacts him. Look at where he comforts Lily: when it looks like they've made a mistake and hurt Petunia.

When Lily gives up on him.

And I know: there was more, there was more, there was more.

Potions homework done together.

Eager chatter between classes.

It's not black and white.

But these are the scenes JK Rowling has decided will give you the best impression of their friendship. She didn't pick tender scenes with cocoa and cookies because that isn't a theme in this friendship.

And onwards to:

They Used To Be Friends, Why Did Lily Stop Talking To Him Like This

It's hard to know what a person is truly like. You only know what people show you, and they hold back the worst of themselves at first. In Lily's first scenes, she doesn't know everything. She doesn't see the greedy looks he gives her. He is a new boy about her age who understands her like nobody else in town could.

Years go by. He calls people like her "Mudblood", he makes friends with awful classmates who do illegal and immoral things and are rumored to be training for war. The other side of the war, the one that kills people.

He shows her the worse sides.

By the time he calls her Mudblood, she has already tried to stop him from going down the wrong path. He's ignored her and ignored her and she finally snaps.

Can you blame her?

This apology seems like yet another excuse, a means to an end of keeping her by his side.

She's had enough.

Conclusion

So concludes the saga of Lily and Severus.

As he makes his decisions and she hers, Lily perishes saving a son whom Snape will later torment in her classes.

Harry grows up.

Snape oversees the creation of a school designed for indoctrination, watching passively as cruciatus curses are dished out. Her son meets him on the battlefield.

Voldemort gets to Snape first.

And thus, Snape meets his end.

And that's it, because things work out like that sometimes. Snape chose his path in life. Lily responded accordingly. And years later, he continued to stay stagnant in character growth, even becoming a child's worst fear from his unequally distributed cruelty.

A note:

If you disagree, feel free to debate me! I enjoy calm discussions. HOWEVER, please remember that we are all, in the end, people with lives and feelings, so don’t scream at me if you don’t agree with what I’ve said here.

#severus snape #harry potter #anti severus snape #snape #lily evans #lily potter #lily evans potter #long post #rant post #toxic relationship #don’t hate me #snape and lily #snily #severus and lily

78 notes · View notes

rederiswrites · 2 years

Text

Motherhood is a huge burden. It is. It’s years of your life devoted to little or nothing else. Many primary caretakers I know got to a point where their kids didn’t need them 24/7 and realized that they no longer had any idea who they were. Some of my friends are reinventing and rediscovering themselves, and it’s painful and difficult and takes years. Others, I think, never manage, never have the support or the self-awareness to break free, and spend the rest of their lives living for others, being what they believe they are supposed to be.

A lot of people don’t have the emotional capacity or maturity to do what needs to be done, to love like a child needs to be loved, and children get hurt. A lot of others maybe genuinely adore their children, but don’t know how to break free from the incredibly harmful parenting messages our culture is absolutely soaked in, and perpetuate that damage without ever understanding that it’s damaging.

Parenthood is a huge financial sink and liability. It all but condemns a single parent to live in poverty, at least in the US. My mother worked most of my childhood in a job that paid a fraction of what it should have, because I could come straight there after school. Childcare is fucking expensive. Bearing and raising a child is, much more often than is discussed, damaging to a person’s health. It was to mine. Quite a lot, actually. Birthing can be dangerous, especially without access to good care (this by the way 100% includes access to non-mysogynistic care and midwifery and compassionate care, so actually MOST people in the US don’t have that).

So, this Mother’s Day, let’s let it be about a person’s right to choose to bear a child--or not. If we are to recognize the huge emotional and practical difficulties of the job, from beginning to end, then we really need to recognize that it should be chosen. It should be a vocation. You shouldn’t have a child because you wanted sex and accidents happen. You shouldn’t have a child because anyone else wants you to. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have a child you’re not ready for, because no one is ready, but you should want it more than you fear it, certainly.

You should have a child because YOU WANT TO RAISE A CHILD. No other reason.

Keep abortion legal. Make it more available. Make it easier. Make it cheaper. Everyone should have access to affordable, safe abortion. It makes society better. It makes lives better. It matters.

#abortion #parenting #mother's day

2K notes · View notes

arenpath · 11 months

Text

Food you eat with The Lost Boys

Word count: 1.5+ The Lost Boys x fem!reader Warnings: you can't date David and be vegetarian at the same time:( A/n: Why is Marko so cute? I spent the whole night to finish it. I tried to fix the look of Paul's part but it didn't work, so I hope it won't ruit the experience. -DAVID-

It was all about the first impression.

David was sure about it, so he couldn’t let himself invite a woman on a walking date or make her sit and eat in a cheap diner.

That's why David took you to the most expensive place in Santa Carla on your first date and most of the others.

It didn’t matter to him how many stinky rich Santa-Carla's residents and tourists he had to kill to get money to spend on you and your gastronomic dates.

David wanted to treat you like a queen you were.

He wouldn’t mind stealing some cash from Max, but David would never ask him to give him some, the boys always did.

When you insisted on spending the night just chilling on the boardwalk, he often tried to not let you eat fast food and sweets.

He knew how fragile humans’ health and lives were, so he was worried that, remaining human, you could hurt yourself by eating unhealthy meals.

However, he also couldn’t let you starve and just watch how boys eat.

So he just gave up and bought you whatever you wanted, taking a promise from you to eat well and healthy during the day.

When you both spent time in the cave, he always asked Marko to take you from a Chinese take out something pricey with lots of meat and vegetables.

In the restaurant, he ordered for both of you rare steaks with red wine.

Animal blood couldn't compare to human blood, let along yours. Even though he hadn't tried to take a bite out of you yet, he knew that your blood would be a delicious bliss.

He liked when you were eating meat.

David hated stupid fuckers who thought that women should eat less and only salads.

In his eyes, you needed lots of protein to have enough strength to defend yourself during the day when he couldn’t do so.

And you would need lots of blood when you become a vampire to protect your clan from hunters and bear his children.

Watching how you were taking a bite, he imagined that it wasn’t just a meat, but human flesh.

David often couldn't hold back a satisfied grin, fantasizing about how your already vampire fangs ruthlessly dig into a victim's body, biting and tearing tendons.

As for wine, it not only just tasted delicious, but a glass of red wine could be simply replaced with a glass of his blood.

-DWAYNE-

Dwayne went under many names: a silent one, handsome, blood sucking monster, papa, big brother, daddy, hottie.

But you called him lovingly, granny.

You first met Dwayne standing in the line to a food stall.

He and Laddie were standing right behind you. Dwayne was listening to the boy, who couldn’t choose an ice cream flavor.

Suddenly you felt how you were tugged by your shirt from behind.

When you turned around, firstly you met with dark brown eyes and then your eyes fell on the little boy.

“What is your favorite flavor, miss?” - the boy asked.

Since then, every time you met Dwayne on the boardwalk, he bought you that ice cream.

Dwayne was that grandmother who bought everything as soon as you mentioned that the taste was good.

All the fast food and sweets that were on the boardwalk could be yours.

If you told him that something wasn't as tasty as you thought, or that you were tired of some kind of food, he stopped carrying it to you for a while, but then everything went back to normal.

The same story was with Laddie.

You were truly amazed how after such an amount of sugar, his teeth were perfectly fine.

However, you still recommended Dwayne to change the boy's diet.

So soon you started seeing the boy with either with a bag of veggies or tacos and hot dogs.

Still not the perfect choice, but not the worst.

And after you approved Dwayne’s choice, all those were soon included in your diet too.

When you found out that Dwayne couldn’t provide for Laddie more complicated dishes at their home, you suggested your own kitchen.

You found out that Dwayne greatly missed such things as soups and oatmeal.

You enjoyed cooking it with him and Laddie.

It felt so natural, like you had known them for years.

Like you were a happy family.

Dwayne was a hopeless romantic, when you spent your time without Laddie, just two of you, at your place, he always brought a bottle of champagne and a box full of strawberries in chocolate.

If Dwayne wanted to spend some time outside, he organized a picnic on the beach for you.

He took a couple of blankets from the cave: one for you, so you wouldn't freeze, and one to sit.

Even though he knew that you would cook something for your little date, he still went to the supermarket to buy extra sandwiches.

During your picnic dates, Dwayne never missed the opportunity to feed you or lick sauce from your face or petite fingers.

-PAUL-

When you first met Paul, he was able to spend the whole night without eating and drinking anything.

If you tried to offer to order something, he always said that the only thing he was hungry and thirsty for was you.

However, after a while, Paul started appearing on the boardwalk more energetic than usual, if at all possible.

When he grabbed you in his arms, everything became clear – he was high.

If before the only thing he wanted to eat was you, now he was as hungry as a wolf.

Your table was full of fatty and high-calorie food from the boardwalk.

Before Paul, the only time of a day when you could eat cereal was morning, now if Paul visited you in that state, you spent your night in front of TV with the bowls of cereal and freezing milk.

Paul was definitely an ass and thighs guy, so if he stayed at your place and had a clear mind, he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of putting his head on your lap.

You let him do so, he was laying on your lap, while you were watching TV and eating popcorn.

With Paul, you started attending almost all concerts in Santa-Carla, so your bag or backpack was always full of different snacks such as cereal bars and potato chips. And, of course, you had some bottles of water.

Being together with Paul meant spending lots of time with Marko.

The boy was happy to buy something for his buddy’s girlfriend.

It could be cotton candy of different flavors, a bag of candies, your favorite ice cream and slushie.

Paul had a dirty mind, so it was hard to eat fruit ice and banana near him if you didn’t want to become a victim of his stupid jokes.

Paul was also a person with strange preferences in food.

One night, he just took your ice cream and put it in a glass of lemonade to introduce you to a new drink.

You heard from Marko that he even ate cat dry food. You were so curious that you even bought some for yourself to try it at home without eyewitnesses.

When you were sharing with him your school stories, he stopped you and asked if you had ever tasted chalk.

-MARKO-

Marko was biting his thumb, staring at the menu.

Even though vampires could live without human food, for Marko, the ability to see how different cuisines changed from time to time and taste it was definitely one of the pros of immortality.

He often blamed his Italians roots that even after his death he had a thing for a good diner.

Now he was standing in the Chinese restaurant, not knowing what new positions to order to satisfy his taste buds and your brothers'.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you, also standing and staring at the menu.

“Can I help a sweet thing to make up her mind? Hm?”

Family of a missing guy could probably say “thank you” to both of you, because that day Marko came back to the cave in the wee small hours, thereby leaving their brothers hungry, because of which, when they could not satisfy their hunger with human food, they caught a fool who wandered to the sea and tore up his body.

Marko was sure that it was the love at first sight.

He spent the whole night with you talking about Chinese food and food in general.

Money intended to buy food for him and the boys was spent on buying everything a little bit and showing you the entire menu of his favorite restaurant.

When he understood that you were a foodie too, and you found out that he had Italian roots, you decided to definitely meet again and try everything Italian that Santa-Carla could offer

Marko always had a thing for pastries since he was a child.

Now, being a vampire, he could not afford to enjoy only baked buns in the morning, but he negotiated with the owner of a good bakery to deliver some to you every morning.

You two had lots of dates when he painted graffiti on buildings and billboards of the city, and you enjoyed him, his talent and the night city.

He made sure to bring either something hot to dring or energy drink.

You were his muse, so he often painted you, while you were posing with different fruits, not denying yourself the pleasure of eating them after.

#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #david tlb #paul tlb #marko tlb #dwayne tlb #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #david the lost boys #tlb 1987 #marko lost boys #david the lost boys x reader #marko the lost boys x reader #paul the lost boys x reader #dwayne the lost boys x reader

260 notes · View notes

swaps55 · 1 year

Text

Mass Effect Vanguard Guide

First and foremost, this is exactly what it says: a guide. It is not the right way to play this class; it is a way that I have found very effective after well over a thousand hours spent running different builds and different classes in campaign and ME3 Multiplayer. If you build it differently and like your style better, great! If you are having fun, you’re doing it right.

But if you are struggling at all with the Vanguard class or don’t click with it, this guide might help you. The build, loadout, and strategy are designed with higher difficulties in mind. This kit can easily make quick work of insanity and is a lot of fun if you enjoy using your face as a weapon.

THE BUILD

Shepard has 8 skill trees + a Bonus Power. At Rank 60, you can max out 8 skills and have enough points leftover to take the 9th to level 4. For this build, I recommend only taking Cryo Ammo to rank 4 (or skipping it entirely), and maxing everything else.

Prioritize Charge, Nova, Incendiary Ammo, Assault Mastery, and probably a few points in Fitness here and there.

Breakdown under the cut!

Incendiary Ammo: Incendiary ammo might be one of the most brokenly overpowered skills in the game. The explosive evolution adds a flat damage value vs. a percentage on every other shot, which is insane. On rapid fire weapons that do less damage per shot, like the Tempest or the Typhoon, you're basically doubling the amount of damage you're doing. Add the area of effect you get with the explosion? You're now inflicting this chaos on anyone else who’s nearby. Are you using a piercing mod (the answer should be yes)? You now have a shot at another roll for another explosion, because the damage call can pass through the armored target and torment the cannon fodder behind it. A piercing mod reduces the damage on your bullet, but not the explosion. This is super insane on shotguns, because you get a shot at the extra damage roll per pellet, not per shot. Shotgun blasts have multiple pellets per shot.

Have I mentioned that this is affected by increases in power damage? So any power damage increases you take in Assault Mastery make incendiary ammo better.

Rank 4 – Damage. To hell with your squad. I mean, your squad is amazing. But trust me, you want to be selfish with incendiary ammo. You can do so much more with it than your squad can.

Rank 5 – Are you handy with headshots? Take Headshot damage. Would you rather have more ammo capacity? Take Ammo Capacity. Whatever makes you happy.

Rank 6 – Explosive Burst. Always take explosive burst. There is no universe in which you want anything other than explosive burst.

Cryo Ammo: This is your dump stat. I don’t even put my leftover points in cryo ammo, because the circumstances in which you would choose cryo ammo over incendiary ammo do not exist, if you are going for maximizing damage. Cryo ammo is really nothing more than a debuff, and you know what’s better than a debuff? Killing it. Now, if you just want to snicker at enemies with a health bar freezing solid and toppling over, that’s different. 😊 But when it comes to higher difficulties, cryo ammo just doesn’t stand up to the effectiveness of other ammo powers.

Pull: Pull doesn’t provide nearly as much benefit as your other skills, so I suggest speccing into it last. It can, however, be a fun way to toy with mooks if you’re bored of scattering them like ninepins, and offer an alternative for dealing with Guardians if emptying a shotgun full of fire into their mail slot doesn’t quite do it for you. Pull will also prime biotic explosions. It’s not elegant, but you can do it.

Rank 4: Duration vs. Radius: I go for Radius, because as a Vanguard nothing stays alive long enough for duration to matter. But if you are having trouble with timing to get biotic explosions, you can choose Duration here.

Rank 5: Lift Damage vs. Expose: Go for Expose, which increases all damage to the target, including biotic detonations. Again, things don’t stay alive long enough for lift damage to do much for you.

Rank 6: Recharge Speed vs. Double Pull. DOUBLE PULL. Why would you choose one pull when you can have two? This skill already has one of the fastest recharge speeds in the game, so choosing recharge speed doesn’t gain you anything.

Biotic Charge: Biotic charge, of course, is the signature skill of the vanguard, and while there are plenty of playstyles you can use that don’t hinge on charge…why would you? Charge is stupidly fun. You can be reckless, silly, and stupid, and no one can stop you. You’ll make so many things explode you can hear colors. There isn’t a problem your face can’t solve, unless the problem is on a platform out of bounds.

Charge is also a detonator power, which means you can set up biotic explosions by painting a target with warp, reave, dark channel, and even pull, and then slamming your face into it. Charge will also create a fire explosion when you ram your face into something that’s on fire from incinerate or….incendiary ammo. Hey, who has incendiary ammo and can make their own fire explosions? VANGUARDS.

Rank 4: Force & Damage vs. Radius. Dealer’s choice. Do you want to smash for face against one thing with all the force? Or smash your face against all the things with less force? ME3 tends to emphasize cannon fodder over high tier enemies, so if you’re a little shy about running straight into the arms of a banshee and prefer to use yourself as a bowling ball into a pile of husks, go for radius. Otherwise, go for damage.

Rank 5: Weapon Synergy vs. Power Synergy. For most playstyles, power synergy is what you want here, especially if you like to spam Nova, as power synergy makes your nova hit harder. However, if you prefer to charge into something and then stick your shotgun down its throat to set it on fire with fire bullets, take weapon synergy.

Rank 6: Bonus Power vs. Barrier: I recommend barrier here, because the number one problem vanguards have is not giving a fuck, and having charge give you your shields back when not giving a fuck lands you in a sticky situation will generally save your life. Also, the cooldowns on this kit are so fast you really don’t benefit that much from randomly getting a free one to justify giving up those shields you really need because nova.

Shockwave: Shockwave is another detonator for biotic explosions, and it’s a handy mid-range attack when you’re stuck in cover or don’t want ravager goo all over your face.

Rank 4: Force & Damage vs. Radius: Shockwave’s biggest weakness is its short reach, so I choose radius here. NOTE: In the Original Trilogy, this skill is bugged on PC. Choosing radius actually causes this skill to do ZERO damage. So if you are playing OT on PC, choose Force. This bug appeared to be fixed in LE when I tested it.

Rank 5: Detonate vs. Reach: While reach would be great, because again, range is this skill’s biggest shortcoming, detonating combos is what makes shockwave so good. I recommend detonate, unless you find yourself not using it for explosions.

Rank 6: Recharge vs. Lifting Shockwave: Either one will work here, really. Lifted shockwave is cute, and can help you set up explosions, so I tend to choose it.

Nova: The companion skill to Charge! A lot of people are afraid of Nova because it depletes your shields. But I encourage you to practice with it, because if you get comfortable with the pattern of charge + nova + shoot it on fire until it’s dead, there isn’t much of anything a vanguard can’t handle.

Yes, even banshees.

Rank 4: Force and Damage vs. Radius: You can choose either here, though I will give the lean towards force and damage. If something manages to evade the radius, stick a fire shotgun down their throat to make them think about what they’ve done.

Rank 5: Power Recharge vs. Half Blast: I recommend power recharge here, because decreasing the effectiveness of nova means it dies slower, and Power Recharge speed increases your recharge speed by 25% across the board for 15 seconds. That means CHARGE recharges faster. Which means you can lock yourself in a continuous loop of faster recharge by charging and nova-ing until everything is dead. Remember, this kit does not have a grenade power because SHEPARD is the grenade. Realize your full potential and blow everything up.

Rank 6: Pierce vs. Sustain: Don’t be tempted by Sustain, and the allure of sometimes not using up your barrier. Choose Pierce. Not only does this make you more effective vs. Armor and Barriers, but also shields, which is something biotics aren’t great at. If you feel naked without your shields, remember you have a FIRE GUN that can protect you until Charge is primed and ready to give you your shields back, and Rank 5 means that recharge is faster.

Assault Mastery: Here’s where things get stupid. Assault Mastery makes all your badass shit even more badass.

Rank 4: Damage vs. Influence & Force: I understand that the Influence bonus is really attractive here, but we’re focusing a build that services combat, not story, and Damage brings you to a 20% power bonus vs. the 10% if you choose I&F. Remember, power damage not only affects your biotic powers, but also your ammo power. Remember how stupid Incendiary Ammo is? This makes it stupider.

Rank 5: Squad Bonus vs. Weight Capacity: Be selfish. Your squad is great, but Shepard is a god, and do you know how your make gods even more badass? Let them bring heavier guns.

Rank 6: Shotgun Damage vs. Power Intensity: Even if you primarily use a shotgun and don’t rely heavily on powers, the 20% power damage bonus from Power Intensity is better, because it also applies to Incendiary Ammo. And it gives you the freedom to use other guns if you want to.

Fitness: Let’s make this short and sweet: As a vanguard, you are not punching things with your fists, you are punching things with your face, so for ranks 4, 5, & 6, go Durability, Barrier Recharge, and Durability.

Bonus Power: I recommend any biotic power that sets up combos, since setting up combos is what Vanguards are not great at. Between Reave and Dark Channel, I prefer reave, because you can paint multiple targets, it staggers the target, it stacks, and it gives you damage reduction. I do NOT recommend Flare. While it is a really cool power, it has a painfully slow recharge speed, and vanguards need to move fast.

Reave:

Rank 4: Duration vs. Radius: I choose radius, to paint more targets. It’s not gonna live long enough for duration to matter.

Rank 5: Damage Reduction vs. Recharge Speed: The recharge speed is a little painful, so if you aren’t having trouble staying alive, you can choose it. If you’re dying, damage reduction will help.

Barriers & Armor vs. Damage & Duration: You can go either way here, but I prefer Barriers & Armor, because you can fire a reave at a banshee and then ignore her while you go bowling with the cannon fodder. When all your toys are dead, you can then ram your face into the banshee so she explodes.

The Weapons

The weight capacity bonus you can get from Assault Mastery means Shepard can be this powerful and carry some REALLY good guns. I recommend weapons with a high rate of fire to take advantage of Incendiary Ammo. Shotguns are the obvious choice, but any weapon with a high rate of fire that keeps you close to or at a 200% cooldown is good.

My favorites are the Piranha and the Hurricane, the latter of which can take advantage of a power mag bonus. But since you are already giving up a valuable mod slot for the power mag, if you need a stabilizer to use it comfortably, I’d recommend going with something else. The Talon is a good choice because it is lightweight, fires quickly enough, and it has a damage bonus to shields and barriers. Basically, it’s a pocket shotgun. The Reegar is a weapon that can be REALLY dumb, since it melts shields, and it benefits from a piercing mod, but its drawback is that it is very short range on a class that already struggles at range. If you want to use it, I suggest the piercing and thermal clip mods.

Speaking of the range issue. I have two words for you: The Indra.

The Indra is an automatic sniper rifle, one of the absolute best weapons in the game, and Shepard can carry it and STILL HAVE A 200% COOLDOWN. Also? It costs 10k credits on the Citadel at the beginning of the game. Is it counterintuitive to carry a sniper rifle on a Vanguard? Yup. Is it immersion breaking? Possibly. But remember, this is a combat guide, not a story guide. Put the Indra on Shepard with Incendiary Ammo, and congrats! You are now invincible.

How to Play

Vanguard is a high risk/high reward class. It’s designed to play fast and at close range, so if you are trying to play it like an adept, you might not get good results. Get comfortable playing with your shields down (you’ll get them back with the next charge), don’t be stingy with medigel, and don’t fret too much about top tier enemies like phantoms and banshees. You might occasionally get sync killed, but truthfully, your damage output is so high you can often stagger them out of their murderous intent. Even turrets can’t stand up to this kit:

youtube

Turn on incendiary ammo the moment you load into a mission and leave it on. I suggest mapping charge, nova, and reave (if it’s your bonus power) to the hotkeys so you don’t have to use the power wheel for each, and make it a muscle memory. Charge everything. Nova with impunity. Shoot everything that isn’t dead until they’re on so much fire they wish they were. Use the power wheel to pause the game and get your bearings or figure out what’s shooting you. Use your squadmates to either strip shields or set up biotic explosions. Use and abuse combat roll to get out of trouble if charge is on cooldown. If you’re about to die, charge first, then medigel. Reload canceling is your friend. (If you are not familiar with reload canceling, I plan to make a post about it.)

A vanguard should rarely stop moving, except for the occasional stint behind cover to regroup, reload your gun, or set up an explosion. If you stop charging, you’ll probably die.

This class is a hell of a lot of fun if you let it off the chain and go hog wild. Don’t be afraid to die. Taking the risk – even if it doesn’t pay off all the time – helps you get comfortable with the batshit playstyle if it’s not something you’re used to.

I love all the Mass Effect classes, but this one is my favorite because this is how I really love to play the game. I hope this guide helps!

#mass effect #vanguard guide #mass effect build guide #vanguards: we punch with our faces

214 notes · View notes

silver-ink-iron-words · 1 year

Text

“Please,” the protagonist said. “If you actually love me like you say, please don’t do this.”

The royal lifted the protagonist into the carriage, and onto their lap.

“What was that, my dear?” they said with a smirk.

The protagonist scrambled off their lap and onto the opposite seats.

The royal laughed. “You should have seen this coming, darling. I did say, after all, that I would choose the most beautiful of my noblemen’s children.”

The protagonist glared at them. “I’m not going to marry you.”

The royal raised an amused brow. “You overestimate your own choice in the matter.”

“You will need me to say ‘I do’ in the chapel.” It was a struggle to keep their voice even. “I refuse to utter the words.”

“Do you have a lover? Is that it?” The royal’s tone remained jovial, but something dangerous lurked behind their eyes.

“No,” the protagonist said, and the royal’s expression brightened. But it was not the good news the royal thought it was.

“I don’t fall in love,” the protagonist went on. “And I never will. Not with you, not with anyone. I will never wed.”

The protagonist had braced for anger, maybe even threats or violence. The royal’s smug look was somehow worse.

“I know you have a prickly heart, darling,” they said. “I’ve witnessed it plenty of times in my own court. But once you’ve been shown proper love, you’ll change your mind.”

“That is a bold assumption.”

“Which is why it will be so satisfying when I am proven right. Now come here.” The royal patted their lap with a smile.

The protagonist stiffened, but the royal’s gaze left no room for compromise. Limbs heavy, they rose and climbed onto the royal’s lap.

The protagonist stared out the window, as the carriage continued on. The royal played with their clothes, and their hair, blathering on about some nonsense while the protagonist watched their home drift away into the distance.

Eventually, the protagonist turned to the royal. They held their chin high with the confidence of a decision made. “You know what? Alright.”

The royal grinned. “Oh?”

“If you insist. Then fine, I’ll marry you. In sickness and in health.” A plan was beginning to form. They donned the convincing imitation of a warm smile. “Until death do us part.”

-----

A-spec stories taglist:

@feline17ff , @piept , @doublericenobeans , @vioqueenofmushrooms , @pigeonwhumps , @thelazywitchphotographer , @taramacgay

303 notes · View notes

doumadono · 7 months

Note

EMERGENCY REQUEST

Hi, A while ago I used to have a very bad mental health condition, I can't say for sure what I had(i have an idea but i cannot Say they exact things), because even today I haven't gone to a psychologist to get a diagnosis about my mental health, I wanted to send this to see if you could make a request with Izuku and Kacchan with their childhood friend (Kacchan platonic and with Izuku non-platonic if it's not too much trouble) And one day they find out by accident that she went through a mild eating disorder, self-harm, social anxiety, family problems and a toxic need to be a perfect student (They find out about this already in the first year of the UA, this happened to her in the first year of middle school)I would like to read this because when I was in 7th grade I had all this on my shoulders, I felt like garbage and my family never helped, they only made things worse...Reading it would be like being able to feel that comfort that to this day I have not been able to have because although I would like to be able to talk about it with someone, I am unable to open up, I avoid those topics as much as I can.

Thank you so much! And sorry if I haven't explained myself well.

A/N: I'm really sorry to hear that you've been going through such a challenging time with your mental health. It takes a lot of courage to acknowledge your struggles, and I truly admire your willingness to share this. When you're ready, seeking support from a psychologist or therapist can be immensely helpful

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Izuku and Katsuki walked back to the UA dormitory, their footsteps echoing in the quiet evening. The day had been filled with training and lectures, and now, as they strolled under the dimming sky, they found themselves in a contemplative mood.

Katsuki glanced over at Izuku and noticed the pensive look on his friend's face. "What's eatin' at ya, Deku?" he asked in his typical gruff manner.

Izuku hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Kacchan, you know our childhood friend Y/N, right?"

Katsuki's eyebrows furrowed as he thought about it. "Yeah, vaguely. What's she got to do with anything?"

Izuku took a deep breath, trying to find the right way to phrase what was on his mind. "I overheard something today, something about her," he began. "It sounds like she's been through some really tough stuff, especially during her first year of middle school. Eating disorder, self-harm, social anxiety, family problems, and a toxic need to be a perfect student."

Katsuki's expression hardened, his usual tough exterior showing cracks as concern flickered in his eyes. "That's messed up, nerd."

As they approached the dormitory, they heard voices coming from the teacher's lounge, where Aizawa and Nezu were deep in conversation. The name 'Y/N' drifted into their ears, and they couldn't help but listen.

"I think we should keep an eye on Y/N," Aizawa said. "She's clearly been through a lot, and I don't want her to feel isolated or overwhelmed here at UA."

Nezu nodded in agreement. "You're right. We should find a way to support her without making her feel exposed or uncomfortable."

Katsuki clenched his fists, anger simmering beneath the surface. "I'll just go talk to her and kick all these stupid ideas off her head."

Izuku, on the other hand, was quick to respond, albeit more gently. "Kacchan, but we need to be careful. Y/N has been through a lot, and pushing her too hard could do more harm than good. We should approach this delicately."

Katsuki scowled but was willing to listen. "Okay, fine, Deku. What's your brilliant idea then?"

"I think we should let Y/N know that we're there for her, no matter what. Encourage her to talk to us when she's ready? We can offer her our support and friendship without forcing her to reveal everything all at once."

Katsuki huffed in annoyance, but he couldn't deny that Izuku's suggestion made sense. "Fine, fine, we'll do it your way then, nerd."

Later that evening, Izuku and Katsuki found themselves in a common livingroom, still contemplating how to approach the delicate situation with Y/N. Izuku sat on a couch, thoughtful, while Katsuki paced around, clearly agitated, trying to finish his English homework. "You really think this is the right way, Deku? I can't freaking focus because of that goddamn girl. Why do girls always have to be so complicated? " Katsuki asked, his frustration evident.

"I do, Kacchan. Y/N's been through a lot. She needs to know we're here for her, and when she's ready, she'll come to either of us."

Katsuki paused, his fiery demanour momentarily waning. He knew that Izuku was right; a more gentle approach was necessary. He sat down on the floor, scowling as he admitted, "Fine."

Izuku smiled, relieved that Katsuki had agreed. "Great, Kacchan."

Bakugo, catching a glimpse from the corner of his eye, noticed Mina, Kaminari, and Tsuyu observing him and Deku. Irritated, he turned to them and bellowed, "What the hell are you staring at, extras!?" His fiery personality showing no mercy, even to his friends.

The next day, they put their plan into action.

You were in the common room, looking somewhat distant as you read a book.

Izuku approached you cautiously, determined to make you feel comfortable. Kacchan watched him from a distance, pretending to be engrossed in preparing a dinner.

"Hey, Y/N," Izuku began with a warm smile, "How's your day been?"

You looked up, surprised by the sudden attention. You hesitated for a moment but then replied, "Oh, it's been okay, I guess?"

Katsuki chimed in, trying to keep his tone softer than usual. "You don't need to hide stuff, you know. We're your friends, and we're here for you."

Your eyes widened slightly, and you swallowed hard. You weren't used to opening up about your struggles, but the genuine concern made you feel a little safer. "But I'm not hiding anything…" you protested.

Bakugo grumbled from a distance. "Tsch! For crying out loud, it's obvious you're not alright, nerd. Quit with the act, you're a terrible actress, Y/N, damn it!"

Izuku continued, "I… We know that life can be tough. You don't have to go through it alone. When you're ready to talk, we'll be here to listen, without any judgment, okay?"

Katsuki nodded, showing an uncharacteristic patience. "Yeah."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt the sincerity of their words. You had been carrying your burdens in silence for so long, and the idea of sharing them with friends was both scary and comforting. "Thank you, boys," you whispered, your voice quivering. "I appreciate your support."

Izuku reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. "You're welcome, Y/N. We care about you, and we want to help in any way we can."

Katsuki grumbled, but there was a softness in his gaze as he added, "And if anyone gives you trouble, they'll have to deal with me."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and without warning, you leaned into Izuku's comforting arms.

Izuku was a little taken aback by your sudden move, but he didn't push you away. Instead, he embraced you gently, his hand softly petting your Y/H/C hair.

As you nestled in his embrace, you finally opened up about how awful you were feeling. Your voice quivered as you spoke. "I don't know what to do… I just… I feel so lost and overwhelmed. It's like I'm drowning in my own thoughts and fears, and I can't escape."

Izuku held you a little tighter, his own heart aching for you. "I'm here for you, Y/N. You're not alone in this. We'll find a way through it, together, I promise."

You continued, your voice breaking, "I've been trying to be strong for so long, but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. It's like I'm carrying the weight of the world, and it's crushing me."

"You don't have to carry it all by yourself. You have friends who care about you, who want to help. We'll lighten that burden, step by step. You're not alone, Y/N."

You clung to him, your sobs slowly subsiding as his comforting presence gave you solace. It was the first step in a journey of healing and support. With tears still glistening in your eyes, you raised your head and looked up at Izuku. Leaning in, you placed a tender kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for all of your support, Deku," you whispered, your gratitude evident in your eyes.

As you expressed your gratitude to both of your friends, Izuku felt his cheeks flush with a deep shade of crimson. His heart began to race, pounding in his chest like a drumbeat. The genuine warmth of the unexpected kiss on his cheek left him feeling both flustered and deeply touched. Unbeknownst to you, Izuku had been harboring a significant crush on you.

But before you could say more, a loud voice echoed across the room. Bakugo's angry shout filled the space, "Hey, I'm goddamn here as well, fucking nerd!"

You turned towards Katsuki, a grateful smile forming on your lips. "Thank you too, Kacchan," you said, addressing him. "I appreciate both of you more than I can express."

83 notes · View notes

1yyyyyy1 · 2 months

Note

in regards to your last post about female heterosexuality... i have an observation i always find rather ticklish when talking with male partnered women about the risks of dating men. for example, when we would talk about the terrible things men can and do do to women in relationships, they would describe those men as "toxic" or "bad" men. it was like i could see the gears in their heads turning, trying to "not my man though" their observations.

it's actually funny as well as sad. or we will talk about the health risks of PIV sex and they'll say well it's only dangerous if you have more than one male partner and all i can do is just nod lol.

one of like a million reasons why i choose to have only separatists in my circle now.

I'm of the opinion that men are misogynistic at the baseline, and that men with a potential to be non-violent towards women are genetic outliers, so women insisting on it being the other way around strikes me as some kind of social unawareness. I keep my guard up around women like that because I expect the same unawareness to prevent them from seeing their partner's true character (or, from "picking the right man", if such a thing were possible) and even seep into their opinions on other social matters. Again, this is what I personally rely on when I meet other women because assessing people's social intelligence and knowing whether they can be relied on in difficult circumstances is important no matter how offensive people believe this to be.

Women refusing to acknowledge the dangers of PIV is its own topic, and its implications are much more sinister than "getting back at stupid women who are not as brave as us for facing the reality of PIV" (or whatever petty drama radical feminism positions it as). The very few conversations that surround the negative effects of semen (and the possibility of them being neurological of all things) are often framed as "misogyny" and not the valid concern they are, and while I understand that they are usually brought up in a derogatory context, it is still important medical knowledge that women should be aware of if they are to consent to heterosexual sex. I feel that much of the indignation towards these topics ends up preventing women from learning about female anatomy more than anything else.

Believe it or not, I've met several women who were seemingly aware of the "male nature" yet built their lifestyles around them all the same, and I no longer think that bringing awareness to these subjects is at all the ticket to a feminist society. I'm getting the impression that the only precondition to prioritizing women (and yourself) is, well... The desire to prioritize women and yourself.

#ask #let's be honest with ourselves #women start making excuses whenever female solidarity is brought up because they are self-aware #and know that majority of women (including themselves) are just as backstabbing towards one another #especially with anything that involves “status” in a patriarchal society #in their eyes there's no need to be investing effort into something that is destined to fail

45 notes · View notes

m-y-fandoms · 1 year

Text

COMMISSION: TW - SDR2 Boys Stop You from Committing Suicide (comfort endings)

Some scenarios take place during the DR3//No Despair era at Hope’s Peak and some during the SDR2 island killing game. SDR2 SPOILERS INCLUDED

Word Count: 10K Words

TRIGGER Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THESE TYPES OF SCENARIOS. All sections are angst or depressing but end with the character comforting or saving the reader and the reader’s plan isn’t successful. Self-harm and plans of suicide are discussed and detailed. Situations and objects like drowning, pills, guns, knives, poor mental health, and more are included. PLEASE KEEP IN MIND DANGANRONPA IS RATED M for 17+ and canonically includes themes of murder and suicide. You are responsible for the media you consume. Keep reading below with these warnings in mind if you so choose.

Hajime Hinata

It’d been days without food and you felt like you were officially going crazy. Apparently it wasn’t enough that you’d been forced to see your classmates die in the most painful, cruel ways, betray each other, lie, and scheme, now you had to starve on top of it all? You couldn’t take it anymore: the dryness of your mouth, the grumbling of your stomach. One thing right after another, days turned into weeks of misery, of despair even. But that was Monokuma’s goal all along. You barely ever left your cabin these days, fearing you’d see the worst side of one of your classmates in the form of a swift knife to the back as soon as you stepped out. You barely trusted anyone other than your best friend Hajime anymore. It was so hard to, when you’d trusted Mikan, the meek nurse, Peko, the intelligent and disciplined swordswoman, Nagito, the chill dude putting up an entire act to hide his craziness. Your cabin was always locked with you inside. You hated leaving, and now you were stuck in this damned funhouse, tricked here by that monsterous bear. You felt delirious: mental health declining, hands shaking, mind drifting.

You looked around your room - one of the average rooms in the funhouse’s living quarters - dimly lit like some villain’s secret hidden cave. Scattered around the floor were weapons you’d obtained as a reward for clearing the Final Dead Room, along with scraps of paper lined with scrawled plans and ideas. The ravings of a mad person it would likely seem to anyone else who viewed them.

Your plan seemed simple enough: Kill Nekomaru, make it obvious that it was you, get executed as the blackened and confess and insist, should it not be obvious enough. You wanted people to witness, to be convinced it was you so you could leave this wretched island forever. You felt like you were taking the coward’s way out, but you just couldn’t push yourself to do the job on your own. Maybe you were a coward, but you just wanted out, as soon as possible.

The plan was to make it as painless as as possible for the robot, if he even felt pain. That’s why you chose him as the victim in the first place. Honestly, it was adding to your rapidly plummeting downward mental spiral, the way your peers were treating Nekomaru. It was driving you fucking crazy. They acted as if it was just… normal. None of this was normal. Nekomaru was your friend, flesh and blood, and now he was just this… thing, this metal abomination. It’s not him in there, you’d repeat over and over like a mantra in your head when you saw the bot. It was disrespectful to his memory. Were you the only sane one here, side-eyeing the bot, avoiding him out of discomfort? You found yourself asking: If they uploaded an AI of my personality into a computer, is that me?

No.

It’s not. You all should have just accepted that the real Nekomaru was gone forever. It would be merciful to kill his replacement instead of a real human. It’s wouldn’t even be an actual murder, no guilt on your conscience. Monokuma wouldn’t see it that way though, and that’s all that mattered.

“(Y/N)?” You are shaken out of your mindless planning, sucked out of your thoughts by a knock at your door. Hajime. You recognized his voice and panicked at the state of the room around you. Hajime was a dear, always doing rounds to check on his friends, especially in this particularly stressful situation. As you and he were a closer as friends, he tended to check on you a little more often. You ignored his knocks, sent into an frenzy as you started kicking papers under the bed and hiding as many weapons as you can. You hear the handle jiggle and the door opens quickly behind you. Hajime spared no time when he’d gotten no reply from you. He’d lost too many to take his time anymore. A second too late could mean death for a friend, as he’d learned. You could’ve been dead, passed out from hunger, injured.

He freezes as you turn to face him like a deer in headlights, taking in the insane scene before him. He was definitely looking at the pile of weapons scattered everywhere - definitely noticing how unhinged you looked - and immediately begins questioning you, closing your door behind him for some privacy. It’s when you start stuttering, sputtering out excuses and deflecting that he truly takes in your mental state. You look completely deshelved and unwell, worse than everyone else though you were all starving and on edge.

“Where did you even get all of these?!” He gestures to the murder tools in desperation, just wanting an honest answer from someone he actually trusted. When you reveal the existence of the Octagon beyond the Final Dead Room, he presses you further: “Well what were you planning to do with all of them?” He is apprehensive of your answer. Seeing the genuine look in his eyes that seemed ever-present, you broke down, sighing deeply. You run your hand down your face, defeated,exposed. He sees you visibly sink into yourself as you prepare to finally give it to him straight.

“Look, Hajime, you and I have always been honest with each other. You’re one of the few here I can truly trust so I’m just going to admit what’s going on here… I feel like I owe you that much. I’m not proud of this but…” You hesitate, feeling like finding conviction in your words was an insurmountable task. Your bottom lip began to quiver. You’d held these plans confidently inside your head, but you’d yet to acknowledge them aloud. “... I was going to take a life tonight… I was going to make myself the blackened and then confess, taking someone with me…” Your voice breaks, ashamed of your words.

The room goes quite for a while, as Hajime just stares at you, thinking, not sure what to even say. He hadn’t expected you to be so blunt, though his assumptions were confirmed. You can see his chest heaving in the silence, hearing only and his loud exhales. You’d seen Hajime carry your class through trial after trial, seen him peice together complex evidence. He wasn’t stupid. He inferred in his mind as he stared that your target would be Nekomaru. You see the gears turning in his head. It made sense, as you loved hanging around the boisterous team manager before his transformation, and after… you seemed to avoid him like an ex at a party. He knows… but he doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to have this difficult conversation.

Slowly, so gently, he simply sinks down to your level as you sit there resting on your shins on the ground. He pushes some of the mess aside, looking you in the eyes before wrapping his arms around your starving body. You let him, not moving an inch, taking in his warmth. Maybe this is what was intended for you, maybe you needed only to hear his next words:

“You’re not going to do this, okay?” You feel him nodding, his chin tucked into your shoulder. “I’m going to be here for you, so I need you to be here for me too, right?” Hajime wasn’t always the best at comforting others in his own opinion, but you knew he was trying his best. Rather, others would say he was good at comforting his friends, but he felt awkward while doing so, like he wasn’t built for mushy moments. “We’ll escape this together: you, me, and everybody else. You have to keep trying for them, too. You can’t do that if you’re dead, right?” He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood as the stress rolls down his brow in the form of sweat. He felt like cringing at his own words, wondering if he was helping at all. “If you do this, Monokuma wins, and I sure as hell know that you don’t want that. You’re needed here and wanted here, and I know you’re stronger than this.” He feels his shoulder become soaked as your silent tears roll down your face and through his shirt. “H-hey, can I stay here tonight, with you?” He was asking, but you were going to have to physically remove him if you said no.

Nagito Komaeda

You’d been staring down at the knife in your shaking hands for what felt like an hour. In reality, it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. The blade was long, sharp, gleaming silver. How easy it would be to just… end it. You hesitated, thinking about the pain. How much would it hurt, based on the location of insertion? What was the quickest method to just get it over with?

You sighed. You’d miss playing games all night with Chiaki to avoid thinking about more dismal matters. You’d miss discussing true crime with Sonia, late night snack runs with Akane - whom you always felt safe with. Most of all though, you’d miss Nagito, who you’d developed quite the friendship with. His complex thought process and quirky personality fascinated you, and it was never a boring time when he was around. He seemed to like being a loner, always planning or deep inside his own head, but he didn’t seem to mind when you tagged along. In fact, he sometimes remarked that he didn’t deserve your company, and complimented you skills as an Ultimate student. You’d miss knowing someone as unique as him and having them actually enjoy your friendship.

The room around you made you shiver. The ambiance was so cold and hostile. Now past the Final Dead Room, you’d found yourself rewarded by stepping into the Octogon, a hidden room just beyond. Honestly, if you hadn’t picked up better problem-solving skills through trials and the help of your more intelligent friends like Nagito and Hajime, you may have never completed the Final Dead Room. The Octogon, different from the escape room before it, seemed to be a bunker, a weapons cache filled wall to grey wall with deadly tools of every kind. There was even a fridge that contained lethal poisons. When Monokuma described a reward for passing the Final Dead Room, you’d expected a secret passage out of the funhouse, or maybe some food at least. You should’ve known better.

Tearing your eyes away from the knife, you are startled as the door back to the Final Dead Room behind you bursts open. Nagito Komaeda of all people stumbles into the Octogon, his usual casual lanky form slinking in. His expression was carefree, that standard stoner-adjacent look glazed over his face… as if he didn’t just complete a deadly game of Russian roulette to get here.

“Nagito?! What are you doing here?” You panicked, not expected to be walked in on in this vulnerable state.

“I could ask you the same thing, (Y/N)...” He smiled mischeviously. “I followed you here, of course!” Oh yeah, of course! Why hadn’t you thought of that? “Couldn’t let you have all the fun! To my surprise, when I tried to enter the Final Dead Room behind you, Monokuma stopped me and said I had to finish when you were done. Everyone’s expected to take on the Dead Room on their own, apparently.” He held his hands up and shrugged. “So, after I passed the Final Dead Room, Monomi confirmed that you were through the door at the end.” He sighed. “What a pain to have her in there as a distraction though. I was hoping to catch up with you immediately. Oh well…” You stood stock still, the knife still in hand, so unsure of what to do. How was he always so nonchalant? “So this is what Monokuma’s been hiding back here, huh?” He looked around, taking in the myriad of weapons like they were nothing of note. Then his gaze trailed back to you, scanning you up and down. “By the way, why are you holding that knife like that?”

You suddenly feel extreme embarrassment run up your spine, your skin heating up. Your lack of words tells Nagito everything he needs to know. He was highly astute and intuitive, and you could see him analyzing the emotions laid bare all over you face. Nagito was always a step ahead. You could see it every time you were with him, from playing a simple card game in your cabin, to the seriousness of a class trial. It was near impossible to get one over on him. You feel sweat run down your forehead as you realize he’s figured you out. You’re too kind-hearted to kill someone else, and you’d confided in him at length about your ongoing poor mental state, how you couldn’t take this anymore and felt drained.

Over the many times you’d hung out with him, he’d grown to care about you enough to stop this path you were going down, and sensed the potential for a great wellspring of hope to burst forth from inside of you. He saw you as worth saving, and found himself genuinely caring about your fate, so slowly, he approached you, reaching out for the knife in your hand. When you don’t resist, he coaxes it out of your grip and quickly moves to distract you.

“Huh, that’s weird. Wonder where that window leads…” Gesturing over your shoulder, he leads you over to the very small square window, the only window in the entire room in fact. He hopes silently that the embarrassment of being caught and the knowledge that he’s watching you is is enough to stop you from attempting in the future.

It was now well into the night, and your new plan was in motion. This time you’d move at night while Nagito was sound asleep in his luxury sound-proofed room. Everything was seeming to fall into place.

It was already established and agreed upon that Grape Tower and Strawberry Tower were the same location with Chiaki’s eHandbook test. It was still debated amongst your peers just how they could be the same room or how the elevators worked, but now you and Nagito knew better. The window in the Octogon had revealed to only you two what the true secret of the funhouse was. The two towers were one big column, and the floor shifted up and down like an elevator. Your plan was solidified as soon as you realized this fact. A fall might hurt far less than a slow bleed-out. It could be instant death if you did it right.

You’d made a deal with Kazuichi, the Ultimate Mechanic. He trusted you enough to let you keep it vague, and his hunger exhuastion certainly helped with him not giving a fuck about your reasoning. You all knew that the doors to Grape and Strawberry Tower couldn’t be opened at the same time. Everyone assumed it was so that they appeared to be different places to trick you all, but now, you and Nagito knew it was so the floor of the towers could move up or down, concealing the risk of a fall. You simply asked Kazuichi if he could disable this function in the doors so that both tower doors could be open at any time. He was tiny bit hesitant at frist, but nearly started drooling when you showed him a huge toolbox you’d allow him to keep if he used it to do what you asked. It was so very tempting, but led him to worry about where you obtained this treasure in the first place, and if Monokuma would be upset about him meddling with the doors. You alleviated his fears by assuring him that there were no rules against it in the eHandbook and that you’d take the heat if Monokuma got mad. While he paced, you pushed him, stating that the offer was quickly expiring along with the precious toolbox. In the end, he just couldn’t resist those new toys, especially when trapped in the monotony and starvation in the funhouse.

So now here you stood, looking down at the perilous drop from the high-up door to Strawberry Tower onto the floor of Grape Tower. You felt empty inside, both literally and emotionally as you hadn’t eaten in days. There was a hollow, grim feeling to the neon tower at night, something uncanny. Unlike the knife, once you lept, that was it. It would be freefalling, out of your hands. It might even feel like a relief. There was no pushing a blade in further, this would be much easier. You’d left a note in your room stating it was suicide, and trusted your closer friends to confirm your handwriting. Hopefully they didn’t think it was some trick by a real blackened.

Your heart was racing, blood pounding in your ear. You take a deep inhale, and hold your breath. Closing your eyes, you step a single foot out over the ledge to the fatal fall.

Silently and sudden as a gust of wind, a lithe pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you back. The movement is desperate, sudden and jarring. You gasp and stumble back, falling on top of your rescuer with a thud. Nagito groans beneath you with the force, knocked over with your weight. You knew it was him, by the voice, the smell, the paleness of the arms clasped in a vice-like grip around your waist.

You both say nothing for a while as the severity of the situation sinks in. Suddenly, like a tsunami, a wave of emotions hit you, and you begin to sob at the reality of what you were about to just do. Your chest hurts and your tears flow freely down your face and onto Nagito below you, spattering onto his skin. You want to yell out, to scream What was I thinking?!, to curse yourself. He squeezes you once, as if to say:

You don’t need to say a thing…

“It’s a good thing I happened to be out for a walk, huh?” He speaks after a long while, letting you calm down. He continues his deflection: “Looked like you were about to slip!” He clears his throat and begins to run one bony hand through your hair to comfort you, allowing you to lay there on his chest for just a little longer.

Nekomaru Nidai

There was a simple beauty to the warm, sunny beach out behind the diner on the second island. The sand was soft and the water always looked serene. Usually, you’d come with friends and swim or have a little picnic, but today you were there alone, and for much less pleasant reasons. The beaming sun and tropical scenery stood in stark contrast to the dark clouds inside your mind.

You were floating out in the middle of the water, pondering. It was all too much. Something was so off: this island, the killing game, even your classmates at times. Nothing about this all felt real to you. You didn’t feel real, lost in your own head, a prisoner in your own body. It was bad enough you’d watched Togami and Teruteru die gruesomely, or that you’d just recently sent Fuyuhiko to the hospital after the deaths of Mahiru and Peko. It was traumatizing, and yet it felt so… unreal. And it would only continue. You were sure of that, despite the naive positivity of some of your classmates.

You wanted out, to just disappear without a trace. You felt hopeless and trapped each and every day on this maddening island. You hated the mocking feeling of being stuck in a killing game in a beautiful paradise like this, the irony. If everything went according to plan today, you’d successfully swim down as far as you possibly could, hold your breath, and when you couldn’t take it any longer, hopefully not have enough air to make it to the surface. Hopefully, you’d sink to the bottom of the ocean with a big gulp of water in your lungs. Maybe if your body was never found, there would be no trial. That was the only selfless part of this plan if you managed to pull it off: no trial, no work put on your classmates to solve it. After all, a body had to be found to start an investigation.

Without hesitation, you began your last journey, swimming straight downwards into the deep water, making sure to take a pathetic inhale beforehand to make this all go faster. Maybe, just maybe, you’d wake up on the other side, feeling real again. Once you reach the bottom, you sink into the sand bed and begin to pass the time by thinking of the few things you would miss about this island hellhole, the friends you’d made even though you seemed to lose another each week.

Your heart started to race as you thought about Chiaki letting you win in that first person shooter. Your lungs began to sting and you think of Ibuki and Sonia forcing you out of your comfort zone with new music, activities and movie genres. The sting turns into a burn, and you try to push back any second thoughts as Akane’s tough love and Nekomaru’s beaming smile come to mind. The tried their best to make you feel better, support you, uplift you. They actively put time into making you stronger, in both body and mind. The valued mental fortitude just as much as a healthy body. They made you feel seen, like your company was never a burden, like a big brother and sister. Their blunt honesty could be so refreshing.

Lost in your thoughts, you begin to feel it in your throat. It’s coming… You begin to gag, choke, drown. Struggling on instinct, you kick your feet and grasp at your chest. You look up to see the sun shine down through the water, and feel… sad. It was the last thing you’d expected to feel. You were sure you wanted this…

The last thing you see before your world goes dark is a large shadow swimming in your direction. The muffled sound of movement, an object rushing toward you is all you hear before you let yourself go.

Without warning, you’re conscious again. You have a feeling you’re not on the other side when you feel your back being slammed down onto the sand of the beach. There’s a pressure on your lungs, nearly bursting them and your eyes fly open in shock. Sputtering, you flip onto your side and spit out what feels like a gallon of salt water. You cough up a lung, so dazed that you nearly miss the large shadow completely eclipsing the sun, looming over you.

Nekomaru spoke, and the sheer volume of his deep voice startles you. You turn to face him and find that he looks sad, a rare expression for him. You’d seen him jolly, determined, angry even, but rarely sad. He looked… disappointed, on his knees right before you, so close. You hated that look on his face, even more knowing you caused it. After a long sigh, he began to speak:

“I was in the diner eating lunch… Through the windows I saw you swim out and go under but… after a while, you weren’t coming back up. I’ve seen you swim many times before… you’re an amazing swimmer, I know it. I really hope this was an accident… but-” Before he can finish, you throw yourself up and into his arms before he could see you cry. You hid your face over his shoulder, begging him not to finish his sentence. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, to hear the hurt in his voice. You just wanted someone you cared about to touch you, to make you feel real. He was always on your side, rooting for you, you didn’t mean to hurt him like this. The sand stuck to your soaked bodies as you held him, begged him to hold you back. When you whimper, trying to hold in your cries, he finally does.

“When you’re ready, we can talk about this, and for as long as you need,” he grumbles.

Gundham Tanaka

Gundham, although he was an amazing friend - your best friend in fact - wasn’t the best person to vent to. He had a ton of shit of his own to deal with, you could tell. He came with a lot of emotional baggage locked deep inside. The facade and dramatics, it was all an act, a wall he put up to protect himself from the world that hurt him as a child, the world that made him feel irreparably different. You couldn’t exactly vent about your long-term depression and anxieties to someone who would turn it into a lecture on demonic energies or a pep talk about how you were one of the most powerful mortals he’d ever come across as the Supreme Overlord of Ice. Sure, it would cheer you up sometimes, his theatrics would often make you laugh, but it was always temporary. Besides, he wasn’t a therapist, trauma dumping on him all the time wouldn’t be cool, and he obviously coped by escaping into his realm of fantasy. Why would you want to possibly rehash any old wounds of his by bringing him back down to the realities of Earth? You had too much love for him to do that.

You spent as much time with him as possible, though. It was one of of the few things that brought you joy anymore. You’d lost interest in most if not all of your old hobbies. He sensed it, you knew, but became awkward and nervous, never knowing quite how to both cheer you up and stay on script.

Hope’s Peak provided Gundham with a building of his own on the large campus. It tripled as a sort of animal reserve, rescue, and clinic. Most Hope’s Peak Ultimates had their own space dedicated to honing their talent, and this was his. That was the most important part of their school day after all. The other subjects were second priority. Gundham referred to the Ultimate Breeder’s building as his dark temple, his sanctuary of gloom, always something to that effect. He rarely let anyone who wasn’t in the breeding club enter, and even then he kept a close eye on its members. You joined the club because you cared for him, but you doubted he would ever kick his best friend out regardless. He often made exceptions to his rules for you, using some excuse about how he’d baptized you in shadows to make you worthy, or placed a protection spell first.

The breeding club building was truly impressive. There were medical wings, feeding stations, training rooms, even outdoor yards and runs for the animals to feel free. Everything was so well kempt. The place was split up to accommodate different animals and keep prey and predators apart, and there were some dangerous predators to be found there. You’d even seen Gundham bring a perfectly trained bear to class before. Everyone was in awe that day.

In the clinic area, you sat waiting for Gundham to bring some restock supplies. Sitting there with only your own sadness to keep you company, you began to drift into the dark recesses of your mind yet again. It felt like a daily occurrence lately. You felt insecure, worthless, dangerous. Across the room, you gazed into the cage of a particularly nasty breed of snake. It was deadly venomous, and seemed to be calling out your name. Without thinking, as if in a trance, you raise to a standing position. It feels like you’ve lost all control of your limbs as you hover over toward the testy reptile. Unlocking it’s cage door with a click, you reach in, letting the snake coil around your hand with no reluctance, like a person possessed. Like you had nothing to lose.

Being Gundham’s ward, it’s pretty well behaved already, but still new to the rescue and with a slight feral side not yet trained out completely. With your free hand, you grab its head gently and press its mouth into your wrist. You bump its nose into your skin, not enough to hurt the snake, just irritate. Gudham wouldn’t approve of you hurting any animal. You could never. With a small hiss, it pulls back slightly and strikes forward, latching its fangs down deep into the flesh of your wrist. You cry out, feeling something for the first time that day. The fangs were long and dug in snuggly.

Gundham’s deep voice startles you, booming as he enters with the box of supplies in his hand. He’s boasting, something about how the check-ups would go smoothly with you there to assist today when his words are cut off by the sight before him.

The snake in your hand was just now pulling its fangs out of your skin, and you had a horrified look on your face at his sudden appearance, like you didn’t want him to see. His mind started racing, instantly in fight or flight mode - more like save or let die mode - fitting for a man who spends so much time around creatures that run on survival instinct. You drop to your knees, the venom already beginning its work. Your rapidly numbing hand fell to the ground, the snake safely slithering down and onto the floor. Gundham rushed over to the snake, scooping it up and locking it safely back into its cage to secure the area.

You started feeling woozy, feeling heat creep up your arm and spread through your veins to your shoulder and chest. It both hurt and felt tingly, like a limb that had fallen asleep but was simultaneously on fire. Your head began to pulse like a searing migraine, and you were sure the stress of having Gundham there to watch your downfall was making it worse. Your vision was now swimming, blurry and dimming. Gundham is rushing over to you, grabbing you up into his arms, but his yells are muffled as if there were cotton balls in your ears. And then, with a sudden surge of pain in your lungs, you black out.

When your eyes finally crack open, you find them sensitive to the light above. You look around slowly, taking in the familiar surroundings of Hope’s Peak Academy’s hospital wing. You gasp softly when you try to move your right hand and feel resistance tugging back. You glance down, tearing up when you see a bandaged hand firmly clasped around your own. Gundham is pulled up in a comfy chair next to your hospital bed, his head resting on the bed beside your thigh. He’s sound asleep, probably sleeping off the stress you put him through. The curl at the end of his striped hair lays across your blanket. He looked intense even unconscious, his brow furrowed, scrunched up in worry. You said a quiet thank you to his sleeping form, running a hand through his hair lovingly. You assumed that if it weren’t for Gundham quickly administering one of the antivenoms he kept on hand in his clinic, you would’ve been dead before you could even reach the main building’s hospital across campus. You imagined that the view of him carrying your limp body across the grounds in a sprint would’ve been a sight to see.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

You’d been friends with Fuyuhiko for years. You, him, and Peko formed an inseparable trio growing up. Peko felt an overwhelming urge to protect you at all times, but you constantly begged her not to, to lay off, as her job was to live to protect Fuyuhiko, and nobody else. You didn’t want to get her in trouble, and his parents already hated you. They saw you as a pest, a bad influence on their son and a distraction from his destiny of being the clan’s leader one day. You had no yakuza ties, you were just a kid from the same side of the city who got mixed in with little Fuyuhiko as kids. Boss Kuzuryu would’ve loved to be rid of you, and it would’ve been easy too, but his stubborn son convinced him years ago that if he wanted his blood in Hope’s Peak Academy one day, he would have to be used to being around “normal” people his age sooner or later.

You, Fuyuhiko and Peko would sneak around Kuzuryu territories and never get caught or scolded. Being in the company of the boss’s son did help of course. With Fuyuhiko’s knowledge of his father’s empire, you learned where not to go and when, patrol schedules, enemy territory lines, meeting spots and so on. It was like some kind of adventure. As kids, it felt like playing pretend: criminals, thugs, crime lords, avoiding police. Except it was all real. Your parents rarely knew where you truly were, as you lied to spare them from heart attacks.

After over a decade together, you truly loved Fuyuhiko, maybe even as more than a friend, though you’d rather die than ever admit it. He was easier to get along with than people gave him credit for. They were intimidated by his family’s reputation, but you knew the real him. He could be a hothead, but he genuinely cared about the people in his life. He was unlike many other yakuza member’s you’d met, often only putting up an uncaring front because he felt like he had to. You’d always been close, but as you began school at Hope’s Peak, a distance began to grow between you. As you got older, you’d begun to feel this odd, uncontrollable sense of sadness deep within. Each year as another birthday passed, it got worse. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. You’d often withdraw from Fuyuhiko and Peko, not wanting to burden them with this depression you couldn’t seem to shake. Fuyuhiko wasn’t good at talking about feelings anyway. Peko was no better. They certainly were no one’s therapists, and you didn’t want to put that on them anyway. How could they fix you when you yourself didn’t know what was wrong? You were starting to feel pushed to the edge by your own mind. You couldn’t go to therapy either. It felt humiliating. Your best friend was the toughest guy in the world. He would never step foot in a therapist’s office.

You’d had thoughts lately, unsafe thoughts about a permanent solution to the problem. You’d try to push them back, but without support, with your own mind betraying you, you felt more and more hopeless each day. You felt like you needed him, to talk to your best friend before you did something stupid. So right after classes were finished for the day, you headed off campus to the Kuzuryu complex. You knew he’d be there right after school on this day of the week. You also knew that weren’t supposed to go there alone, that it was extremely dangerous to be on Kuzuryu property without an escort, but you were desperate. You’d held onto this for far too long.

It wasn’t until you were skirting along the brick wall to the back entrance of the main Kuzuryu mansion that your heart began to race with second thoughts. The inital gut feeling that stopped you from reaching out to Fuyuhiko in the first place months ago was back in full force. Maybe this was the wrong choice. Fuyuhiko had so much on his plate. He didn’t need your cry baby ass dumping your feelings onto him. Maybe he and Peko would be better off without you in their lives at all. Maybe… the initial thoughts you’d woken up with this morning were the right ones.

You peeked around the corner of the wall. This was dangerous territory. Everyone in town knew to avoid this area if they valued their lives. Non-clan members who entered were liable to be shot or shanked on sight. That didn’t happen often though, as the locals had enough common sense. Fuyuhiko had to be inside, and would’ve come out to get you if he knew you were coming.

But you didn’t want him to know anymore. You wanted to just end it, to fade away and never bother anyone ever again, to never feel this way again.

Before you can change your mind yet again, you round the corner into the courtyard preceding the back entrance, and the guards are alerted immediately. Their guns are trained on you with practiced percision. You prepare for your life to be over, for the pain of bullet fire and screw your eyes shut. The yelling and swearing of the guards, prepared to pull the trigger is abruptly halted when you sense a presence in front of you. You open your eyes to see Fuyuhiko standing before you, arms outstretched in a protective stance. He’s swearing like a sailor at his underlings, face red as a tomato with rage.

“Fuyu..hiko?” You sniffle, barely above a whisper. This feels unreal, that a miracle like this would happen to you in what should be your last moment. The petite gangster guarding you was burning with a level of anger too hot to even have your meek voice register in his mind.

“How dare you point that damn gun at (Y/N)!” He was ranting, on a temper-high, and his subordinates were cowering with every word. Upsetting the boss’s son was not a good look for them. Finally satisfied with the amount of fear he’d struck into them, he ordered them to get lost, before things got worse for them. Now alone with you in the empty courtyard, he turned to face you, taking a deep breath to calm himself. That anger should be reserved for the deserving, and he hated when you saw him get like that. He knew he could be a dick, a tempermental jerk at times, but he had a soft spot for you and hated to see you upset. Seeing your forlorn expression finally for himself, he grabbed your shoulder, ushering you off and into the side room he’d entered from when he first saw your foolish ass step into the courtyard alone. Bringing a thumb up, he wiped a tear from the corner of your eye that threatened to fall. “Come on, we have to talk.”

Teruteru Hanamura

Your best friend on campus, Teruteru Hanamura loved cooking for you. Of course he loved cooking, he was the Ultimate Cook after all, but he found it especially rewarding to cook for someone he truly cared about. He was like his mother in that way. You always taste tested his newest culinary creations and were brutally honest about your reviews so he could improve. He spent many lunch periods making you extravagant meals. He refused to let you pack your own, order out, or eat at the cafeteria. It was a win-win: the school saw every minute he spent cooking as him honing his ultimate talent, and you got free food. You guys would chat it up for hours, playfully flirt, and just enjoy each other’s company.

Much to his chagrin, he started to notice you coming to your lunch meet-ups less and less these past few months. When you did show up, you didn't seem as excited as you used to be. He assumed it was normal for most students at one point or another. School work and the pressure to excel at such a prestigious school were probably just stressing you out. He was more of a glass-half-full kind of guy, so the possibility of it being anything more serious than that rolled right off his back. It was out of the question. He didn’t even want to think about such negativity.

It wasn’t until you stopped coming altogether that he realized he might have to.

You’d miss lunch, and plans to hang out after school hours, and stopped texting back as much. It deeply saddened him. Food was his way to show he loved you and cherished your friendship, the way he expressed his creativity and feelings to the world. If he couldn’t share it with his closest friend, he didn’t want to share it with anyone. In his mind, he’d already attributed your behavior to stress, but maybe you also just weren’t interested in being his friend anymore? You sounded more solemn than usual on the phone, and even with your tone through texts. He wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t like him anymore and just wanted to let him down easy. He was a bit much for most people.

After pacing and getting into his own head for hours in the kitchen, he worked up the courage to go to your dorm room and finally have the talk, to confront you directly and ask if he’d done anything to upset you. Sweating bullets outside your door, his fear of confrontation and hatred of negative energy was creeping up on him. With a big gulp, he swallowed before knocking with false confidence. He knew you were in there, he heard your TV through the door and somewhat knew your schedule. This is were you would most certainly be at this time after classes. He called out to you, and when you didn’t answer, he jiggled the door handle, suddenly fearing that maybe the situation was worse than he might’ve once thought. Finding the door unlocked, he gently pushed the door open and crept in.

He finds the room completely dark save for the light of the TV. In the flashing of the screen, he can see the piles of garbage and clothing all over your floor. He scanned the environment anxiously, shocked at the state of your dorm. Then he finds you, sitting up in your bed, blankets covering your legs, silent as the grave, You’re just staring, as if in a trance, completely emotionless. He can see your phone lighting up on the bedside table, notifications buzzing, but you make no move to react.

“(Y/N)?” He can’t believe he’s seeing you like this. You were like a zombie, an empty shell of the person he knew and loved. When you don’t answer, he moves to sit on the side of the bed, concerned. He tiptoes over cautiously, not wanting to trigger any negative response from you. What he sees now, up close to you in the dimly lit room makes his eyes widen in horror.

On your lap, on top of a plastic plate is the cheapest, most unappetizing plate of budget spaghetti he’d ever seen, likely from some cafeteria or corner store. It looked like something a student would keep as a midnight snack in their mini fridge just in case they were starving when everything was closed, a quick fix. That wasn’t the worst part though.

No, the worst most definitely had to be the entire bottle’s worth of pills you’d seemingly emptied on top of the depressing-looking noodles. A plastic fork sat nestled in between the noodles and the pills, as if you were just about to begin eating before he arrived (perhaps in the nick of time).

It’s in that moment he realized exactly what was going on here. This was all so overwhelming to him, but his first priority was saving his best friend. Again, with the intention not to trigger anything, to not overstimulate or make anything worse in mind, he moves slowly, constantly checking your expression or any change or sign of stress. His shaking hands take the plate in their grasp, and he pulls it back and safely away from you. His voice cracks when he finally speaks again.

“H-hey! (Y/N), y-ya know… food is love… food is…” he struggles for the right words, so unsure of his ability to be what you need right now, “... food is beauty, and a very, very good thing! Food is meant to heal and nourish your body, never hurt it!” He smiles weakly, taking one of your limp hands in his own, and you feel his warmth transfer over, flooding into you. “We don’t have to talk right now, but I’m gonna stay, o-okay? I’m gonna stay right here.”

Kazuichi Souda

Kazuichi was stressing. He’d never felt this much in a bind in his entire life. When it came to his own negative feelings and problems, he usually felt fine expressing himself, often yelling or crying if he needed to, letting someone know they’d upset him. When it came to comforting others, it always felt so damn awkward, and it was a feeling he’d like to avoid if he could. He was just no good at it. He was torn now, as it was his own best friend who needed his emotional support, and he’d run away like a selfish coward, hidden from the stress of the situation. He was afraid, and now the situation seemed to be boiling over, to the point of no return.

You were obviously going though something, and could tell. He was closer to you than anyone. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed a definite decline in your energy, the amount of sleep you were getting, and general happiness lately. He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t avoiding a direct conversation about it. He didn’t even know what to say, or if his advice would help. He was no professional, and growing up with a dad that abused him verbally and sometimes even physically, he’d learned to cope with trauma and depressive episodes in his own ways. There were times that he’d have to push back his own feelings to move on when his dad was involved, so how could someone like him help others?

Something that always helped him feel a bit better about himself was altering his outward appearance to satisfy his own sense of self expression and aesthetic. He’d once advised that you get a piercing, dye and cut your hair, buy some new clothes when you were in a particularly dismal mood. You didn’t seem to go for it. In fact, he later felt like a dick for even suggesting it, like maybe now you thought he wasn’t taking you seriously. You’d made an excuse to go back to your dorm almost immediately after the conversation.

He’d felt like an asshole for being a little more distant with you the past few days, but he just felt like a colossal loser for not being able to help one of the most important people in his life. It was overwhelming. What if you wanted to be alone right now? What if him trying to help ended up making it worse? Pacing his mess of a room, he ran his hands through his pink hair, clawing over his scalp in stress. He felt overstimulated, mind bouncing dozens of thoughts around at once.

He stopped, taking a deep breath to try and narrow these thoughts down and make an actual, reasonable plan. At the end of the day, the most important thing was the well-being of his friend. The end goal had to be to get you help or help you himself so that your friendship could get back on track to the normal, happy every day routine that you both loved. The end goal was for sure in his mind: to see his friend smile again and see a familiar glow of happiness radiate off of them. To exorcise this depression permanently, or to at least take the first steps in that direction. If he had to put aside his own feelings of embarrassment and anxiety to achieve that… well, he felt like that goal was worth almost any level of uncomfortableness.

He put his foot down, now resigned to just do what he’d wanted to do deep down for days. You would do the same for him if the situation were reversed, and he knew that. From his room on the opposite side of the dormitory wing, he made his way down the long hall until he reached your own dorm room. You were so very close, but felt so far away when he shut you out for the comfort of his own room. Now he was here, ready to finally give his all to help you like he should’ve the whole time. Even if you just needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to vent to, he wanted to pull through and be there for you until he could guide you through the next steps.

Silent before your door, he was about to knock when he picked up a sound from the other side. He recognized your voice instantly, and you were crying, weeping quite loudly inside your room. This triggers something in him, like a need to protect you, like hearing you in pain hurts him as well. Without thinking, he grabbed the door handle and threw the door open. It’s unlocked, carelessly as if you were just coming in from class and thought of nothing else but your current goal, one-track mind not even bothering to lock your door for safety or privacy. Your school bag and books are thrown haphazardly on the ground and he looks for you, following the source of the cries to the small side bathroom that every dorm room contained.

He nearly lets out a shrill scream of shock when he sees you standing in front of your bathroom mirror, holding a little silver razor blade up to your wrist. It looked like you were building up the courage, so ensnared by your own miserable thoughts that you didn’t even notice him until he was already leaping forward and yelling out your name. You looked up, wide eyes streaked with tears and puffy with redness.

“Kazuichi?!” Your voice is hoarse from crying and you feel so taken aback by his sudden appearance, so small and vulnerable. You felt foolish, caught in this compromising situation, embarrassed that someone you cared about so deeply would ever see you in this state. He didn’t seem to care about that though, only concerned with getting you back down to a safe mental state in this moment. He eyed you, then the razor blade in your hand.

“Please… please don’t do it. Please,” he begs you, one calloused hand reaching out toward you, palm outstretched. “I can’t let you go there. Please, don’t make me watch you do this because I refuse to leave, so…” His voice shook, and he inched closer, hand still ready for you to make the next move. Exhuasted, humiliated, and ready to submit to his help, you concede. You place the razor safey flat-side down into his palm, and he quickly discards it into the trash bin behind him, itching to get it out of his hands expeditiously. With that out of the way, he grabs you around the shoulders, pulling you into a hug that’s almost suffocating. He crushes you against his chest, and feels you shaking, breathing slowly evening out in his embrace. You let your eyes fluttered closed, let him help you stabilize.

“I am… so sorry for not taking this as serious as I should’ve. I never thought it would get this bad!” You could hear him crying. Kazuichi was never one to be afraid to shed tears when he was overwhelmed. You liked that sensitive side of him. “I’m sorry from running from your issues. I’m here now… I’m here.”

Byakuya Twogami

You were fascinated by the self-appointed leader of your little group. Ever since the killing game began, people kind of looked to him for guidance because he had a sense of authority and true confidence in his voice. There was a commanding tone and conviction to his words that you assumed was native to one of his status.

You were interested in his family business and the very different world of the elites like him in general, as you’d made it to Hope’s Peak on pure talent alone and not due to any nepotism or financial status. Attending the academy was the first chance you really had to get out of your old neighborhood and see how other people lived. It had been a miracle that you’d been scouted. The Togami family was just so vastly different from yours in every way. You wanted to know how it all worked. You often found yourself following him around and asking him questions that he probably found tedious and trivial. They were questions that he was probably asked in every interview, or with every new friend who tried to cozy up to him for his money and influence, but those were never your intentions. What began as curiosity for his different way of life turned into you simply enjoying getting to know him. He could even have a sense of humor on occasion, even if he didn’t see it that way.

Eventually, he would start to delegate you to little tasks to help him out, as if you were one of his retainers. In his mind you were competent and he respected you enough to trust you with the work. Overthinking, you took it as him just trying to get you out of his hair. You felt kind of bummed out, like you were probably getting on his nerves and bothering him. His style of communication was so different from your own that you would’ve never guessed that him getting rid of you and spending less time with you could mean he respected you, even if there was a task involved taht required you to move on your own. What made it worse was that you spent so much time with him that you really hadn’t gotten to know any of your other classmates. You weren’t close with any of them so it felt awkward to be walking around without Togami by your side. Interacting with a bunch of people who had already seemed to sort out their friendships might be a bit awkward and uncomfortable. Fortunately, there were a lot of extroverts in this group that would probably pull you in and make you feel right at home as soon as you reached out even mildly.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing right now. Everyone had agreed that the killing game was absolute nonsense, because none of you would ever stoop so low as to actually kill someone for any reason. Yet here you were eavesdropping on a concerning conversation between the seemingly harmless Nagito and the careless Teruteru. Nagito was planning to start up the killing game at the party you all were planning tonight and it didn’t seem like anything would stop him. You could hear the fear in Teruteru’s voice as he tried to speak sense into the much taller, lanky boy. Nagito already had a weapon hidden under a dining table, had sent threatening notes out, left little hints to put his plan into motion. It sounded completely and utterly insane!

You were there in the first place because Togami asked you earlier that day to scope out the party building stealthily and quietly. He wanted someone he trusted to gather any dangerous instruments or note any faults in the architecture that could cause an injury or allow secret entry. Nagito and Teruteru were there cleaning and setting up the food and decorations for the class party later that night, but Byakuya seemed suspicious of the both of them when he spoke on it. It wasn’t hard for you to see why now, when not too long after sneaking into the building, you happened upon this conversation. You had to tell someone, of course, but who would believe you except maybe Togami himself? Nagito and Teruteru could always deny it and it would be your word over theirs. The class might believe you over Teruteru, but Nagito seemed really well liked within the group.

When you relayed Nagito’s plans to Togami later, it felt like he already knew somehow, like you only just confirmed his feelings. You didn’t know how he knew, but he seemed to be taking it seriously. He asked that you share this info with no one else, and told you not to worry as he had it all under control.

How could you not worry about it? Now, at the actual the party you’re unable to relax, on edge even in the presence of amazing food and happy people. You’re nearly shaking with worry, trying to psych yourself into believing that Nagito would change his mind. He was bluffing… he’d chicken out. Everything would be okay. Togami would handle it! Maybe he talked to Nagtio on the side before the party, maybe that natural intimidating aura of his convinced Nagito to let go of his nefarious plans. Teruteru sure seemed to be perky and proud of his food spread tonight, so surely the whole murder plan was off the table. Why would he be so calm otherwise, when he was terrified earlier?

When the lights abruptly went out, everything changed. You panicked, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Your heart rate spiraled out of control, adrenaline kicking into high gear. You followed your instincts to dash over to the back table, the one Nagito was standing next to just before the lights went out. You had to get to that weapon before him, You wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of knowing you could’ve prevented this by warning the entire group if Nagito succeeded in killing someone. You knew this plan was in the works. You trusted Togami to stop it before now and here it was: the moment of truth. You had to act. You weren’t close with any of these people, but they all seemed to already care for each other, if even just a little bit. It was better if you died here over anybody else. It had to be your duty after the information you chose to withhold from them. It wouldn’t have been fair.

As you were about to dive under the table in the dark, you feel a strong grip on your arm. You are lifted and thrusted backwards and away from the table. You yell out, fearing an altercation with Nagito and preparing for a fight, but as you fall back onto your butt with a thud a few feet from the table, all physical contact ceases. There’s a commotion, and you scramble backwards in the dark. There’s confusion and chaos, and then the lights turn back on.

You wouldn’t know until you were gathering evidence for very the first class trial later that night, that Togami had taken your place under that table. The arm that pushed you back had been his. While you couldn’t see him, he used night vision goggles to see you and died in your place. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you trusted him when he said to trust him, let him handle it and didn’t get in the way of the table, he would’ve had a second or two more to think and react… and maybe he wouldn’t be dead. It could’ve been you, and you would be eternally grateful for his sacrifice, even if he didn’t plan for it that night,

You vowed to spend whatever time left you had on this miserable island avenging him by and honoring his memory while you all worked together to stop Monokuma.

193 notes · View notes