anyway now that im somewhat sane [ just a little ]
i think these songs are, technically, about mizi and ivan. in the sense till convinces himself theyre about mizi, and utte is presented as such, but its painfully obvious to anyone that really digs into them that theyre actually about ivan.
and also till is alive.
im dying on both these hills until vivinos or qmeng shoot me directly
mutuals only, but feel free to like no matter if we’ve written together previously - i just want to get some plots going on this blog again. i feel like it’ll help me keep my muse around more. if you have an idea in mind already, great! if not, we can work on something together.
Gender Dysphoria Comfort (FtM) from Denki Kaminari and Kacchan
Bakugou: You're overstepping.
Kaminari: Hey, cool it! Let's get to the task at hand!
Bakugou: Right.
Denki: So, you're feeling a tad bit dysphoric. I'm super sorry to hear that.
Bakugou: If your dysphoria stems from your body, that sucks, and I'm sorry. If it stems from your voice or anything of that nature, that sucks, and I'm sorry.
Denki: But what you need to do, is if you bind, make sure you let your chest breathe.
Bakugou: Make sure you take your meds and/or testosterone. You gotta take care of yourself.
Denki: And if something feels wrong or like it shouldn't happen, please go talk to a doctor as soon as possible.
Bakugou: I'm gonna steal Kirishima's word for a second, but you are fucking manly, okay? Although you may think you look feminine or are still a girl, you better wipe that shit out of your head right now.
Denki: You're a dude! No matter what your genitalia is! Who cares if you have a vagina? That just makes you a dude with a vagina!
Bakugou: You have a big chest? No big. You're a dude with a big chest.
Denki: And he probably has a bigger chest than you anyway!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Day 5 of @febuwhump is here!!!! Thank you @isaiahgeez for the inspiration and encouragement, you're pretty cool I guess... :)))) I stuck with the prompt "take me instead"!
Constant
Obi-Wan found many constants in his new life on Kadavo. Exhaustion, deep in his bones. Hunger, its presence a stab to his abdomen. Pain, sharp and ugly in all its forms.
Pain had become such a constant, he hardly noticed it. He had grown used to the ache in his joints, the tug of dry, split skin, the chafing of the metal around his neck, and the pounding in his head. The flick of an electrowhip and the jab of a vibrospear no longer startled him; they only added bruises and burns to his collection.
Pain was his constant companion.
He pushed a cart of discarded dust and rocks. His toes dug into the earth, leaving prints dotted with blood. He hung his head low as he trudged forward.
He and Rex had been separated. The guards noticed how much they relied on each other, so they tore them apart. Rex's constant presence had been stolen from Obi-Wan. Without Rex, Obi-Wan's thoughts roamed to the darkest recesses of his mind.
Not for the first time, he wished for the constant of Anakin's light.
A shout drew his attention. He watched through the hair falling across his eyes as a Zygerrian seized a Togruta. He beat him in the face with a baton until he went limp in the Zygerrian's hold and blood poured from his nose, his mouth, his forehead...
Obi-Wan's stomach rolled. His ear burned at the memory of his own beating. There was still crusted blood coating the entire side of his head. He could barely hear out of his left ear, except for a constant high-pitched ringing.
"A bit of time in the chamber will teach you some obedience!" the guard snarled.
Obi-Wan shuddered. He had spent time in the isolation chamber. Rex claimed it had only been a few hours. To Obi-Wan, it had been days; days struggling through increasing panic as the dark walls turned to red ray shields and boxed him in ever tighter. A vague part of his mind had wondered if the Zygerrians were watching and if his screams for a long dead master made them laugh.
The Zygerrian turned. He caught Obi-Wan staring and sneered. "Interested in taking another turn?"
Obi-Wan lowered his head. His pulse quickened. His hands tightened around the handle. He forced himself to walk faster, push harder, anything to keep him away from that horrible room.
The guard laughed. His heavy footsteps signaled his departure.
A weight pressed against Obi-Wan's chest. The image of the beaten Togruta seared his mind. I sentenced him to this fate.
The faces of more Togrutans flashed before him. His heart twisted and bled for them. They're hurt because of me. They're dying because of me.
He let his forehead fall forward to rest on the handlebar. He took a shuddering breath. He kept his gaze on the ground. His vision blurred, whether through tears or the heat of the mines he didn't know.
Take me instead, he begged the Force, reaching out for its comforting embrace, Take me to the darkest corners. Give me their pain and sorrow. Please, take me instead. They don't deserve this.
He slipped and crashed to his knees. He slumped further against the cart, each ragged breath more strained than the last. A guard stepped into view, little more than a set of steel-toed boots and a lazily dangling electrowhip in the corner of his eye.
"Keep moving."
Behind the guard, a few Togrutans raised their heads. They looked toward Obi-Wan with wide, fearful eyes.
I'm the reason for their fear. I'm the reason for their pain. They don't deserve this.
He struggled to his feet and forced himself onward. The further he walked, the further his thoughts spiraled into the abyss.
Obi-Wan found many constants in his new life on Kadavo, and one of them was guilt.