#all chemicals you’re trying to identify. did I remember this? did I fuck

[burninglights]

four years of lab safety training and the only thing that stopped me from smell testing the unmarked bottle of laundry detergent was the Safety Third jingle from the WTYP pod 🥴

#em.txt #you’re supposed to waft (wave your hand above the opening of a bottle held well below respiratory orifices to convey the smell) #all chemicals you’re trying to identify. did I remember this? did I fuck #did the episode of WTYP I was listening to as I did the cleaning become the only thing stood between me and accidental chemical pneumonia? #….yeah

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP  meme from Werewolf: The Apocalypse "Black Furies" Tribebook (Revised Version) Ch 2 "Pegasus’ Flight"

"But how can you be here?"

"I’m sorry. I’m easily sidetracked. Where was I?"

"Every day the possibility exists that you will find some great treasure — a companion, a fetish, riches, secrets or whatever is important to you."

"Divine justice is not something that can be safely left in the hands of mortal men and women — or even certain sky goddesses, as Athena’s blindness showed."

"While limits and strictures are frightening to many, I take peace knowing that purposes exist for all things."

"The problem comes when limits become absolute."

"It’s a human mind-twister — and I love mind-twisters — that the only rule to which there is no exception is that there’s an exception to every rule."

"I said before I love mind-twisters, but it’s good to know when to stop twisting your mind."

"Change hurts."

"The questions do not always need to be answered, often just asking them is enough."

"If they lead only to more questions or to simple answers (I remember well learning the answer to “What do bees smell like?”), then that also is learning and therefore good."

"Laughter doesn’t have to be mirthful; it can be bitter or rueful as well."

"How many of these stories actually happened?"

"Take from a story the wisdom that is in it; one of humanity’s biggest problems, I think, is that many of them take their legends too seriously."

"Contemplation is good, but too much of it causes the topic to become irrelevant."

"Beautiful, isn’t it?"

"The average first-time mother can expect an ordeal of fourteen hours."

"Everyone agrees that breast milk is best for babies; doctors, researchers, pharmaceutical companies, and parenting gurus."

"I am sorry for your discomfort, but you can just suffer through it a bit longer."

"A woman’s sexuality is hers, and can be a closely guarded secret or a gift to the world, as she chooses."

"Only the weak deserve pity."

"And yet we’re still spit on as often as not. Unfair, isn’t it?"

"Sex and childbearing is all about responsibility."

"There is no honor in blood for blood’s sake."

"These assaults take place far from the eyes of humanity, and the large-scale ones are most frequently mistaken for natural disasters."

"First, while faith might be eternal, religion must evolve."

"The world is often random, and believing it to be loving and fair is just as false as believing it to be cruel."

"They aren’t thieves, mind you; they just seem to know where to find things."

"I’m quite sure you’ve heard it all. Stay awake and listen again. This is important stuff, you know."

"That kind of cruelty doesn’t really help anyone, does it?"

"Note that there’s a big difference between “breeding” and “having sex.”

"My opinion has always been that announcing one’s presence and intentions when entering another’s territory is polite and proper behavior."

"A predator sees any encroachment on her territory as a threat. If the intruder nears her den, expect her to become very violent."

"If you enter another’s territory and announce yourself, that doesn’t mean you can stay. The one who lives there can still tell you to leave, and you should respect her wishes."

"Be careful when traveling."

"Look, we’ve all got anger control problems. It’s part of who we are."

"If you’re hurt, quit."

"Die to be a hero if you want, but don’t die to prove you were right."

"When the challenge is over, when the winner is declared, accept the ruling and live with it."

"Challenges are serious business — never initiate one without good cause."

"Do not look away. I hardly need to explain what that will lead to."

"We all know why it isn’t good to eat humans; for one thing, their flesh is fouled by the chemicals they eat, and for another, we’re meant to protect and avenge them, not prey upon them."

"If it becomes necessary to kill humans, do so, but remember that you are what you eat."

"From the face you’re making, I can assume you find the notion of cannibalism to be truly repulsive."

"Find other ways to hide your action."

"The problem is that humans are resilient and tenacious, especially in fear or hatred."

"Sometimes, however, we must let go."

"When the time comes for me to die, assuming, of course, that I do not die in battle, I shall walk into the sea and let the waves take me on my last journey."

"They can’t be challenged if no one can find them."

"I’m not saying that the system is corrupt, only that it could be."

"Such a small place, yet so many differing cultures!"

"Any biologist will tell you that you may measure how well an area thrives by the diversity of life it supports."

"Women are, on average, not as physically strong as men. This means that they sometimes need protection. I hardly need to tell you who should provide it."

"Unless I missed a major theological event, there haven’t been any immaculate conceptions recently."

"No matter your personal feelings on men, they are and always have been one half of the equation."

"A man is not evil simply by dint of his sex; to believe so is no better than calling women “the weaker sex.”

"Weak people produce more weak people, and since humans have virtually no method of natural selection, it is up to us to try to correct their weaknesses as best we can."

"Something is urging the citizens towards these evils, for I cannot believe that they did this themselves."

"The idiot humans continue to think that if they could just clear away the trees, they’d have wonderful land for agriculture, never once realizing that it’s the forest itself that preserves the land."

"Tell me why you think you could do better."

"So many believe the courts will do nothing — and if their attackers are rich and privileged enough, that is sadly true."

"Celebrities and advertisements show thin and unhealthy looking women being adored and generally enjoying life. So, young girls are made to feel abnormal and loathe their bodies."

"The Church decries sexuality for any reason but procreation — and women learn to fear their sexual power."

"Time may dull the memory, but we still have blood on our claws."

"It’s harsh, but good exercise."

"Don’t let their foul behavior and mannerisms fool you. These bumpkins and slum-dwellers have contacts all over the city. I avoid them when possible, but when I am left with no other choice and need information in the city, I go to them. Of course, that information does not come cheaply."

"Some of them can get a little corny at times, I admit, but I’d rather have them with us than against us."

"A more serious bunch of assholes was never born."

"They are reprehensible dogs."

"They have money, they have places to stay, they know good places to party, and they have access to guns, and explosives, and body armor, and — well, you get the idea."

"They have a lot of hate, and the near-extinction of their species isn’t something that one just gets over."

"No one ever identifies herself as “evil.”

"You will get far more than you bargained for."

"Most national leaders are ridiculed without mercy, because every mistake they’ve ever made is on display for the world to see."

"Too much time spent mucking with forces beyond their control taints these people, if you ask me."

"Bloody opportunists."

"I’m not going to say they planned it that way, but they sure didn’t stop it either."

"Sure, they got fucked, but they’re still assholes."

"A quaint story, I thought, no more than a sort of urban legend."

"However, they do learn many secrets that we miss. Getting them to give up these secrets, however, is usually more trouble than it’s worth."

"Maybe they aren’t all dead?"

"Greek myths are replete with dragons; Ladon, Typhon, Python, Hydra, and so forth. They are never cast in favorable roles; most of them only exist for a hero to kill."

"I’ve never liked practical jokes, and I don’t like the notion of pushing someone’s buttons just to teach them not to respond. You can lose your head doing that to the wrong person."

"Other creatures share the unseen world with us, and it would behoove you to know something about them."

"The spirits of the dead do not always rest easily."

"The dead aren’t staying in the ground."

"Some of them are complete pigs, so I’m told, but even so, they can be quite seductive."

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay starters #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #black furies #Werewolf the Apocalypse #wta #owod #World Of Darkness

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Stalker

A/N: I got another random idea, so I wrote it! Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Guitarist!Reader Word count: 2,499 Warnings: Stalking, attempted kidnapping/assault, swearing

Every band member had their own identity that fans knew. Gerard was the frontman, Frank was crazy, Ray was known for his hair, and Mikey was known for being shy and behind the scenes.

But you had a pre-established identity being the only woman in MCR, which made you not only more identifiable but made fans love you more and more. There were lots of pros to that including the overwhelming amount of support you got from all the fans who were girls.

But that separation from the rest of the band through that identity brought its negatives too. Take for example how often your body was shamed online because you weren’t all that tiny. Or how some associated your personality with being a “closeted mean girl” when anyone who knew you personally would say just the opposite. There was always a label that had to be stamped on your forehead as a woman to remain relevant, and none of the guys had to deal with that, making it harder sometimes to deal with. But you had eventually learned to take everything with a grain of salt and brush it off.

But as soon as the band became a world wide phenomenon, things escalated for everyone, usually in a positive manner. For you it did too, that was until the worst of the worst happened.

The first time anything actually did happen was a stormy night, perfect setting for everything to go wrong. It was around 4 am and you were awoken by a flash of light outside your window. You brushed it off assuming it was just some lightning, closing your eyes again and trying to go back to sleep. But the light flashed a second time, this time remaining to stay through your window. You groaned, getting up from your sleepy state and putting on your slippers so your feet wouldn’t freeze.

You had a gut feeling, a bad one, so you crouched under the bedroom window where the light flashed through only letting your forehead and eyes look over it. Down below on the first floor was a figure you saw. You crouched back down again, your breath quickening. Maybe you were just seeing things, you thought. You looked back up and the figure became more apparent. It seemed to be a tall man judging by the build and short hair, in a long coat with a flashlight, the light that had shined in the window. You looked around briefly, seeing something in their hand that you could’ve sworn was a knife. Your breath stopped as you crouched down again and grabbed your phone, dialing 911 in the case anything worse happened.

You sat on the floor next to your bed for a few more seconds, clutching the device close to your chest. Then, the doorbell rang. Your eyes went wide as you took a deep breath, remembering that you had installed security. Checking the app on your phone, you saw the man in all black, but you couldn’t identify anything on his face, probably due to the ski mask, freaking you out even more. This time you knew it, there was a knife in his hand.

You went back to your phone app, this time actually calling the police. You stayed on the line with the operator in the case anything happened, but by the time the cops arrived the man was gone, leaving no trace behind. Only the security footage you had.

They only asked you a few questions, saying they would open a case since the person was armed. Then they requested you call someone to come pick you up while they investigated around the property and you agreed.

The first person you called was the most obvious. Your boyfriend of four months, Gerard (aka lead singer, obviously). You nervously put the phone up to your ear, he picked up at the second ring despite it being 4:30 in the morning.

“Y/N/N?” He asked through his groggy voice, “What’s wrong?” You took a deep breath.

“I’m, um, this is going to sound fucking crazy, I know.” You sighed, “Basically I need you to come pick me up. I’m at my house but the cops are here and-” “The cops?” He asked, this time obviously completely awake, “What the fuck happened? Are you okay?” “Yes, Gerard, I’m fine, just a little shaken up.” You admitted, “A guy came by the house with a knife and tried to get in. The cops scared him off but they have to look around the property and all.” “I’ll be there in 5.” And he didn’t lie, it literally took him 5 minutes to get to your house despite the fact you knew it was probably a 15 minutes drive. He rushed in, passing the police, as you gave them the clear that he was okay.

He grabbed you in a large hug, squeezing you tight as you hugged him back. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking you up and down as concern and fear was painted on his face.

“Yeah, just a little shaken.” You admitted, as he pulled you into another hug.

“Sorry to interrupt,” One of the police men came over to you two, “Do you have any idea what any motive could’ve been? A crazy ex maybe?” You shook your head.

“No, none of my exes would do that.” You admitted, when a lightbulb went off in your head that seemed to freak you out even more. Gerard seemed to notice.

“What?” He looked down and asked you.

“Both of us are in a pretty big band,” You explained to the officer, “So maybe it could’ve had something to do with that?” “Like a fan, you’re thinking?” He asked and you nodded, “It’s very possible. Most celebrities have had pretty bad encounters when it comes to stalker fans.” You nodded having heard other stories. Gerard’s eyes went wide. “I would suggest you stay out of the house for at least the next week to two, so if anyone does come back it’s empty. And here’s my card with my cell, so if you see anything weird just ring me up. We’ll have an officer patrol around the area 24/7 for the next few weeks so they’ll be there if anything happens.” He handed you the card which you graciously accepted, “May I ask what band you’re in?” “It’s called My Chemical Romance.” You began, “I’m one of the guitarists, and he’s the lead singer.” You looked to Gerard who smiled lightly.

“Oh, I’ve heard of you guys.” He said and you two nodded. “Well we’ll definitely keep an eye out, alright?” He said and you nodded.

“Thank you so much, officer.” You lightly smiled and he did the same back.

“No problem.”

You went back to Gerard’s place as it was now 5:30 am. “Are you tired, still?” He asked you, as you two walked in. You shook your head. “I’m not either, I’ll make us some coffee, okay? You just go sit back and relax. You’ve been through enough shit this morning.” He kissed the top of your head and you lightly laughed, walking over to sit on his couch. Gerard’s house was much bigger than yours, with 4 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. Granted you recorded a lot of your music there so the extra space was needed.

Your boyfriend came back a few minutes later with two mugs, putting one down in front of you and sitting besides you on the large couch. “Do you want to talk about it? It may help.” He suggested and you lightly nodded. You went through everything, like you had given to the police earlier. Talking about how you saw the knife, and the bad gut feeling, all of that. At this point you couldn’t tell who was more scared, you or Gerard. “What if it is a crazy fan?” You asked, “How would they have even gotten my address? I thought we all worked so hard to keep all of that super private.” “I don’t know.” He admitted with a sigh, “It could also just be a weird person. Or someone who may have mistaken that house for someone else’s.” You nodded understanding. “Why don’t we take the day off, okay? I can call the guys and let them know not to come over-” You shook your head.

“I think working will help get my mind off of it.” You admitted, “I appreciate your idea, but I need to distract myself. “Alright.” He nodded, “Well if you need a break, just let me know, okay?” You nodded.

You hadn’t heard anything for a week, but you stayed with Gerard for that time. Partially because you wanted to, but also because he insisted you do so for your safety.

That was until one night at 3 am your phone went off. You groaned, getting up and checking it only to see it was your security app. Your eyes went wide and you grabbed your glasses. You checked and there, again, was the person. “Shit.” You muttered, finding the card with the officer from the previous weeks number written on it.

“Honey?” You heard Gerard groan, moving towards you. “What’s wrong?” He was still half asleep.

“He’s there, again.” You sighed, typing the the numbers. Your boyfriend shot up immediately as you were speaking to the officer, and he promised that he had units on their way, though you clarified that you weren’t at the house.

Your emotions were a jumbled mess. Part of you was freaking out because your stalker was back, but you also felt safe because you were not there and with Gerard. Another part of you felt angry that this could happen, while hope seemed to run through your veins thinking about how you would finally figure out why you were being stalked.

The two of you were just sitting in his bed, duvet still covering you in anticipation as you waited for a call back. When you heard the ring you immediately answered. “Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, we caught the suspect.” The officer spoke and you took a deep sigh of relief, “We’re going to update you actively on this, but first we need to interview him. My advice from here on out would be to contact your attorney, if you have one, and get a restraining order immediately. It can be done within the next day so if we have to release him on bond he can’t come near you or your home.” “Okay, thank you.” You sighed again, planning on calling your lawyer first thing when you woke up.

“If you have any other questions or concerns please don’t hesitate to reach out to me, alright?” “Yes, thank you so much.” You two hung up and you looked over to Gerard. “They got him.” You said, and he lightly sighed as well in relief. “The officer advised me that I contact our attorneys tomorrow to get an emergency restraining order, for obvious reasons.” “Sounds good.” Gerard admitted, rubbing your back a bit. “Let’s try to go back to sleep, okay? We’ll deal with all this in the morning.” You nodded, falling back under the covers with him, tucked under your arm.

-A brief time skip, as in like 8 hours later or something-

“He what?” You asked your attorney as you and Gerard were suited in her office.

“According to the police report, which I just received this morning, your stalker, James Horrow, thought in his mind that you two were married.” Your mouth was open, your eyes squinted in both confusion and shock as Gerard leaned back in his chair, wiping his hand over his face.

“Jeez,” He sighed, “So he’s crazy?” Your attorney nodded.

“Seems like it.” She sighed, “As much as I hate to say it, this happens pretty often with celebrities. What is most shocking though is he was armed and was planning on kidnapping you.” This time you leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes to let everything soak in.

“So he’s crazy. And violent.” Gerard added.

“We’re putting in an emergency motion today for a restraining order against him. He doesn’t come from any wealthy family and doesn’t seem to be very financially stable so there’s a good chance that if he’s offered bond by the judge he won’t be able to pay it, but you can never be sure.” You nodded in agreement. “However, there should be no reason the judge shouldn’t sign this. I’ve had a few cases in front of her. She’s very fair and good at her job, so I don’t foresee her not granting us the motion. But in the meantime, you two stay safe and probably at Gerard’s house. I’ll give you a call when I have any news.”

“Thank you so much, Patricia.” You smiled and she smiled back.

“Of course.” She shook both yours and Gerard’s hand before you two walked out of her office.

You got into your car, Gerard taking the driver’s seat and you taking the passenger, slumping down into the leather, sighing. “You alright?” Gerard asked turning to you.

“Oh yeah, I’m totally fine with the fact that a psycho dude managed to figure out my private address and showed up to my house with a knife to kidnap me because I’m his imaginary wife.” Gerard sighed, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “I’m gonna have to get a full fucking security team at the house now because I don’t know how many people now know my address.” You closed your eyes for a few moments letting your internal anger radiate out of your body.

“Or you could just move in with me.” Gerard said next, and you looked at him strangely.

“Don’t make me move in with you out of pity.” You rolled your eyes.

“This isn’t out of pity.” He admitted, “I genuinely want you to move in, have for a while now, actually since like a week after we started dating.” He lightly laughed, “I mean, it’s ultimately up to you. But I know I would feel a hell of a lot better if you were with me so if this happens again at least you’re not alone. And if you feel the need to get some form of additional security besides just the cameras, we can do that too.” He gave your hand another reassuring squeeze.

“You sure you’d be okay with that?” You asked and he nodded.

“Positive.”

“Fine,” You lightly smiled back, “I’ll move in with you.” “Great.” He smiled, beginning to reverse out of the parking spot.

“Now will you redo your damn kitchen?” You asked him. He lightly laughed.

“It isn’t that bad-” “Gerard it’s atrocious!” You sat up defensively, “It’s a monstrosity to anyone who knows how to cook!” “Hey I can cook!” He defended himself.

“You made pancakes one, and they burnt. They were literally black.” He rolled his eyes, “It’s okay, I’ll teach you more. After we completely redo the kitchen.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way #mcr gerard #gerard way fanfiction #my chemical gerard #my chemical romance #My Chem #my chemical gee #my chemical romance x reader

[bastardtetsu]

critical thinking | ch②

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, tsundere!reader, slow burn

wc: 1.7k

warning: swearing, being a theatre major

※ mlist | ① ● ③ ④

after several weeks of douchebag exposure therapy, you’re practically numb to kuroo’s bullshit - for the most part. you still get a bit flustered when you get things wrong, but his teasing barely phases you since you’ve abandoned the concept of speaking to him with respect.

“STILL struggling with balancing equations, y/n??” he chides as you work on your homework, “jeez, maybe i need to start giving you extra assignments.”

“on god kuroo, if you try to make me do any more chemistry than is absolutely necessary i will make sure you never know a day of peace in your life.”

“but y/n,” he teases, “you know if you don’t practice you’ll never get any better.”

“i’m not trying to ‘get better,’ i’m trying to pass the class.”

“ahh, no ambition. you hate to see it.”

“wanna shut the fuck up and let me do my homework?” you snap.

“see, there’s that passion!”

he really is insufferable. you roll your eyes and groan, turning your attention away from the mocking rooster & back to your homework while he gets up to stretch his legs.

what he said wasn’t wrong, you are struggling with the whole balancing equations thing. your brain feels like it’s working on overdrive as you scribble away - numbers are definitely not your strong suit.

you can hear him start to snicker behind you as you work. you pause your writing and turn around to see him peeking over your shoulder with a sadistic smile on his face.

“is something funny?” you ask, unimpressed. his smile softens a bit as you stare him down.

“you’re doing it wrong,” he says, and leans down to correct your work. his face is much closer to yours now, you can almost feel the warmth of his breath as his arm reaches around your right side to write in your notebook while his left hand rests on the back of your chair, practically enveloping you.

resisting the urge to turn and stare at the annoying, criminally sculpted face that’s now inches away from yours, you fix your eyes on his hand as he writes and try to ignore how warm you suddenly feel.

his hands are big, you think, noticing how much smaller your pencil looks when he holds it. you can smell his cologne again, too. sandalwood or whatever.

“there, see?” he says, turning his head to look at you.

your faces are still so close.

what is it about his eyes that makes his stare feel so intense every time?

you quickly avert your gaze back to the page of notes, focusing extra hard on the numbers so you can ignore the beat your heart skipped just now. somehow, the equation in front of you looks even more indecipherable than it did before. and why does your face feel so hot?

“i… still don’t get it,” you admit tentatively. he just lets out a soft chuckle, letting his gaze drop for a second before locking eyes with you, lips curled into a smirk.

“you really are bad at this.”

another electric shock of embarrassment mixed with rage jolts through you.

“yeah, and what?” you challenge, “that makes me dumber than you? ok, well if you’re so smart why don’t you try telling me about willy loman’s superobjective in death of a salesman? or identifying the difference between verse and prose in classical text?? i bet you don’t even know who anton chekhov is, but sure, i’m the idiot because i don’t know how to balance a damn equation. how about learn your shit, and then you can teach me mine.”

kuroo just stands there for a moment, taken aback by your outburst. then the bitch starts laughing.

“what’s funny?!!” you interrogate, your voice getting louder. his laugh sounds like a goddamn hyena.

“y/n oh my god,” he chokes out between cackles, “you’re such a nerd!”

“ME??!!?!” you just about scream, furious, “you’re calling me a nerd?? have you met yourself??!”

“well at least i’m not in danger of failing a class,” he giggles.

“that has nothing to do with this,” you snap.

“so who’s anton chek-whatever?” he prods, still amused.

“see, you’re laughing but you’re the one sounding stupid this time,” you grumble. you can tell he’s just searching for something else to tease you about, but you can’t resist the opportunity to turn the tables & be the one schooling him for once. “chekhov. he’s a famous playwright. from russia. one of the early pioneers of modernism in the late 19th/early 20th century - not that you’d even know what that means.”

“you’re right, i don’t,” he relents, “but you seem like you do. nerd.” his eyes have an extra glint in them as they narrow with another taunting smirk.

“leave me alone, you’re the one who asked,” you groan, finally fed up with his antics. “look, i need to finish this homework before i get out of here. otherwise it’s never getting done.”

“i’ll check your answers when you’re finished,” he offers.

“only if you’re not a dick about it.”

“you only think I’m being a dick when you get the answer wrong.”

“SHUT UP.”

—

as midterms approach, the stress is starting to get to you as your workload gets heavier and heavier. maybe that’s why you seem extra snarky towards your annoying, hot, annoyingly hot chemistry tutor today.

“y/n, did you review chemical bonds like i told you to last week?” he chides after you get another homework question wrong. sometimes he really does sound like a teacher, or someone’s dad. but thankfully, he is neither of those things, which means you can comfortably trash him.

“sorry i have things to worry about besides memorizing how electrons work,” you snark, “what about you? this isn’t even your major, do you not have other shit to do besides come here & make fun of me?”

“hey, i do this because i love it!” he protests dramatically. you can see the smirk in his eyes.

“sure” you sneer back, “look, i don’t know about you, but some of us actually have to work for our degrees. we don’t have time to waste bullying people who don’t know science for fun.”

“who says I can’t do both?”

now you’re starting to get annoyed.

“dude for real. do you know how busy i am?? like, ALL the time??? why else do you think i’m here? i wouldn’t be in this shitty class if i had room for anything else. i can’t even go to my professor’s office hours!”

“ah, well, that explains a lot.”

“shut up,” you jab, “the only reason i keep coming back to your dumb ass tutoring hours is because my schedule is so goddamn packed i can’t meet up with anyone else.”

“sure, whatever you say y/n,” he croons, tone dripping in sarcasm.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“oh you know,” he teases, eyes full of mischief. you really don’t though?

“you’re full of shit,” you mutter dismissively. he’s trying to egg you on to say something stupid so he can ridicule you for it, but you can see right through him.

“i’m not the one dodging the subject,” he grins, his eyes unmoving from you as you turn back to your paper. even facing away from him, you can feel his laser beam of a stare on you as if he were breathing right down your neck. ha, i wish. wait— “you know, you’re not gonna get very far on that worksheet if you didn’t do any review.”

“would you be quiet?” you snap at him, fed up with his condescension, “or better yet, maybe do your job and help me figure it out?”

“well,” he purrs with a sickly sweet smirk, “only since you asked so nicely.”

you make sure to roll your eyes extra hard at him to make up for the way your heartbeat quickened at his flirtatious tone.

thankfully, he actually obeys your request this time and tones down the teasing as he explains chemical bonds, doing his best to help you through each homework problem step-by-step. usually he can tell when you’re actually getting irritated and makes up for it like this. you’re silently grateful for this form of kindness from him, even if it’s only because you’re a nightmare to work with otherwise.

as you wrap up your session with him - late once again, but he never minds staying past the end of his tutoring hours since he has the rest of the day off anyway - you hurriedly pack your things, grumbling a complaint about how now you don’t have time to get something to eat before you meet with your scene partner to rehearse your acting midterm. while it’s pretty normal for you to miss meals because of your schedule, it’s frustrating nonetheless, especially after your brain has just been fried by molecular bonds.

“oi, y/n,” kuroo says as you turn to leave. you pause, bracing yourself for whatever stupid comment he’s about to make.

“take care of yourself,” he says, a tinge of concern just barely distinguishable in his tone, before adding, “and remember to review covalent and ionic bonds!” you sigh. he sounds like a dad again.

“see, those are contradictory statements,” you gripe, “chemical bonds could not be further from self care.” he chuckles softly at that.

“at least make sure you eat, ok? maybe you’d get better at chemistry if you had more nutrients.”

“BYE, kuroo,” you call out, already headed for the door.

as you hurry towards your next destination, you can’t get your mind off of how weird it was to see kuroo acting… worried about you? normally his reaction to your struggling is just to tease you about it, but this was new for him. you’re not sure how to feel about it, and it’s hard to tell when the adrenaline of being in a rush is making your heartbeat do all sorts of things that might be confused with something else.

either way, there’s no way you’re reviewing a goddamn thing before next week.

a/n: yeah ok my theatre major jumped out in this one.. i can’t believe i’m posting a fic where i talk about superobjectives & chekhov unironically dsfdddfs hope that doesn’t ruin the experience for u, i really tried to do some research so y/n and kuroo could have an actual discussion about chemistry but turns out i’m dumb in real life so u get this instead

#haikyuu!! #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #.txt #e writes

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Because we all agree that Aziraphale absolutely spent the night after the world didn’t end at Crowley’s flat, right?

.  .  .

He had not intended to get off the bus when it stopped directly in front of Crowley’s building. He still had not exactly said yes to the offer of staying at Crowley’s flat. But the demon had drunk half a bottle of wine while they waited for the bus, and the other half on the way to London, and Heaven knows how much energy he had expended on freezing time and imagining his way successfully through a flaming motorway and all that.

They had sat next to each other on the bus, like friends, instead of one a row behind the other like spies. By the end of the ride Crowley’s head was starting to drift occasionally in the direction of Aziraphale’s shoulder, and when he stood up he needed a moment to catch his balance, and all in all Aziraphale had figured it would be better to at least help him inside.

It had turned out to be a wise decision, because Crowley had taken two steps toward the building and then swayed alarmingly. Aziraphale had caught him with an arm around his waist and surreptitiously miracled the building door open and followed his mumbled directions to an upper floor.

And so they were inside Crowley’s flat. Inside Crowley’s bedroom, to be exact.

Like the rest of the flat, it was cavernous and nearly empty, the sparse furniture luxurious but a bit impersonal. The bed was massive, the wine-colored sheets a mess.

Crowley stumbled over to the bed, pausing just long enough to deposit his sunglasses on a bedside table. Then he flopped down on the bed face-first and fully clothed. After a moment there was some annoyed wiggling as he kicked off his shoes.

Aziraphale stood next to the bed for a good count of ten, trying to figure out what was supposed to happen next. “I’ll, um…be on the couch, then?” he tried finally.

“Haven’t got one,” Crowley mumbled. Which, given what seemed to be his extremely nominal commitment to the idea of human furniture, was not surprising. But…

“Don’t be a moron, angel.” Crowley, still face down among the pillows, flopped out an arm and patted the mattress next to him.

“I, um…well…” He fidgeted in place for another count of ten before he worked up the courage to think, Well…fuck it. It’s not like he could get any more Damned at this point.

There was a Louis XIV-style chair near the bed, which Aziraphale strongly suspected had actually belonged to Louis XIV. He removed his jacket, waistcoat and bowtie and set them carefully on the chair, then took off his shoes and eased into the bed.

It was, in fact, very comfortable. Memory foam or one of those new-fangled things, perhaps. And now that he was here, he realized how incredibly tired he was, even though his body was still humming with all the emergency response chemicals that the almost-end-of-the-world had generated. Angels and demons, strictly speaking, do not need to sleep. But the human body has its limits, and it really works much better if you let it rest now and then.

He lay down as carefully as he could, on his back, a perfectly reasonable distance away from Crowley, who was sprawled sideways across two-thirds of the mattress.

Crowley made a sleepy hnnh noise, then turned over to curl up on his side. Then he rolled right over and flopped an arm over Aziraphale’s chest.

“Oh.” Aziraphale said to no one in particular. “Um…”

He shifted a little, with the intent of doing…what, he wasn’t quite sure. Regardless of intent, the net result was that Crowley nestled even closer to him, close enough to rest his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale froze. They were never this close to each other, never, except for the times Aziraphale managed to goad the demon into shoving him against the nearest hard surface. (It worked more often than it should.) Now Crowley was tucked next to his side, breathing softly, in a configuration some might describe as snuggling.

Crowley smelled quite overpoweringly of burning car, and underneath that—Aziraphale realized with a pang—burning bookshop. His hair was rather damp and disheveled, and his head was heavy enough on Aziraphale’s shoulder that he could already anticipate the moment his arm would fall asleep and he’d have to move into some new, other configuration that could quite possibly also resemble snuggling.

It was wonderful.

It felt so painfully, terrifyingly real and good and right he wondered if a human heart could collapse upon itself from overwhelm alone.

“Your heart’s pounding,” Crowley mumbled, as if he’d been listening in.

“Adrenaline.” He managed a breathy laugh. “Hell of a survival system those humans have.”

“You don’t…object to this…do you?” Crowley said it slowly, without moving, but when you are that close to someone, you can feel the tiniest changes in their body, the minuscule flinch of bracing for rejection.

“No,” he said before he could think too much about it. “No, it’s”—say it, just say it—“it’s nice.”

“Good.” The flicker of tension went out of Crowley’s body. “You’re warm.” He curled a little closer, and it seemed to make sense for Aziraphale to wrap his arm around Crowley’s angular shoulders, so that’s what he did.

Aziraphale lay there, staring up at the ceiling and feeling the weight and shape and warmth of Crowley’s physical body next to him, and the searing metaphysical heat of Crowley’s love radiating off him in waves. It was a restless thing, always moving and shifting and changing, but always, always there.

Love was everywhere on Earth. Humans, for all their faults, were full of it. Most of the time, love was just background radiation, a kaleidoscope image with so many pieces you couldn’t single one out. But now that he’d really, fully identified Crowley’s particular love, it blazed, an unmistakable beacon whiting out everything else around it.

He’d always thought…that’s just what demons felt like. It wasn’t like he was in the habit of hanging around a great variety of them. He’d always just thought of it as The Crowley Feeling, the thing that told him Crowley’s here before any human sense did.

He couldn’t remember a time when being around Crowley hadn’t felt like that. Now that he’d identified it, it seemed impossible that he could have thought it was anything else. But then, the signal of a particular love gets easier to pick out of the background noise when it’s reciprocated.

How had he been so blind, so stupid and so afraid for so many millennia? The thought provoked an unexpected flash of anger. They could have had centuries, they could have had thousands of years of nights like this, if he had been a little braver, a little sooner—

Except…they couldn’t have. He knew that. Heaven and Hell would have never allowed it, and they wouldn’t allow it now. They would find them. They would separate them, and then they would kill them.

“They’ll come after us, won’t they,” he says quietly, not sure whether Crowley is still awake. “Heaven and Hell.”

“Yeah.” Crowley doesn’t even sound afraid; he just sounds exhausted. “But right now they’re busy talking their armies down from six thousand years of apocalyptic bloodlust, so I’d say we’ve got until morning.”

Aziraphale wrapped his arm tighter around Crowley’s back. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, long after the demon’s body had gone slack with sleep next to him. He lay there and he thought about Heaven and Hell, about angels and demons and witches, about sides and loyalties and God’s plan, and about the scrap of paper containing a single prophecy from Agnes Nutter, currently tucked in his waistcoat pocket.

Slowly, very slowly, the vague outlines of an idea began to form, an idea that by the first light of morning had become a plan. It was an insane plan, and its success seemed highly improbable, as insane and improbable as an angel and a demon falling in love. But then again, stranger things had happened at the almost-end-of-the-world.

#good omens #tumblr fic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #OH NO THE FICS ARE HERE #to be clear this is completely chaste #but yes #technically #there was only one bed

[dino-nugget7]

A Manifesto Against The School System

As of writing this I am a second year Public High School Teacher. I won’t be able to live with myself if I spend another year at it. Literally, I feel like a bit of a monster for deciding to finish out this school year rather than quitting right now. But we do what we must to survive, my students won’t be less oppressed because I left, and if nothing else, it gives me an opportunity to strategize about what I can do to aid in revolutionizing school because authentic alternatives to public school exist but none I have found have been intersectional enough to replace public education without excluding the kids who would most benefit from escaping the main school system here in America.

Some of the reasons I did not understand how oppressive school actually is, are that my interests and hobbies happened to align very neatly with the “core” classes, and that even though I grew up very poor and moved around a lot as a kid, we eventually settled and I went to a well funded high school that had just about any elective and/or after school club that I might be interested in trying and then some. During that time, I came to see school as a place where I could explore my passions and escape my home situation. So I figured I would love to pay it forward and go be a teacher.

I recognized at least, the privileged position I came from and decided I wanted to go learn how to teach in settings as different from my high school as possible. Which is why I went and got special permission for most of my classroom placements throughout the teaching program to be at alternative schools. In Colorado at least, alternative schools are small public schools which primarily serve students identified as “at risk”, which is shorthand for “Statistically more likely to drop out than the general population for one reason or another.”

I did not know when I asked to be placed in one, but learned within days of being there that most people that even know alternative schools exist, think of them as the places where “the bad kids” go. I realized very quickly that they are actually places filled with kids who have experienced a lot of trauma in and out of school and don’t respond to that trauma the way adults want them to respond. I came to adore kids at alternative schools because they remind me of my younger siblings.

Like my oldest brother, many of them find school mind numbingly easy and boring and have much more pressing matters to devote their mental energy to.

Like my middle brother, many of them have spent so much time around teachers who do not understand neurodivergence that have been convinced of the lie that they are weird, dumb and/or lazy and because of that, trying to participate in school is like hitting their head on a brick wall.

Like all of my brothers and my sisters, they have a ton of skills that they are brilliant at, but that are not prioritized by the school system, so they never pursue them, such as construction, music, makeup and programming.

Many, if not most of them come from living situations full of abuse and neglect and/or poverty so they don’t have the mental or emotional space to worry about much beyond survival, and not only haven’t learned how to make and achieve long term goals, but have never had the luxury of a stable enough environment for that kind of planning to be worthwhile.

All that being said, something that you only realize if you actually work in a few public alternative schools, as I have done through college and my current job, is that the name is actually an oxymoron.

What started me down the path of considering and researching all the ways school is an oppressive system, was a conversation I had with a student in my first year teaching. He was learning about chemical reactions and safety and asked me the infamous question, “Why do I have to learn about this?” to which I said “Because everything is chemicals and understanding how they can interact with one another and ways they can harm you can keep you safe when you do things like clean or cook.” To which he replied, “Well no offense but I have no idea how this shit relates to cooking and please don’t tell me because its not like I’m actually going to remember it when I am cooking, and I already know how to clean safely because of work. But you’re still going to make me learn this boring shit anyways so seriously, why do we have to learn about this?”

I paused to consider what he was asking. I had interpreted, as the system trained me to, that the question he was asking was, “what value does this knowledge hold?” But what he actually meant was “Why are you making me waste my time learning about this thing that I never asked to learn about?” So I replied, as a sort of test of my new understanding, “It’s part of the physical science curriculum the Education Department thinks is important for high schoolers to learn.” He was taken aback, “Wait, you don’t decide what stuff we learn about? What’s even the point of teachers then? Why don’t they just give us a list of all their stupid stuff they think we should know so we can get on with our lives?” He had a point and I have spent a lot of time reflecting on and growing from that conversation.

Sure, there are some key differences that make alternative schools slightly more tolerable than your standard 800-4,000 kid high school. Class sizes are smaller so students get more individualized help. We get funding to help students access things such as food, clothes, hygiene products, and healthcare and know students well enough that we actually know which kids are lacking these resources. We have slightly more leeway than traditional schools to create innovative lessons. We don’t give out homework.

But public alternative schools are still oppressive in most of the ways that the big schools are. I’m sure none of this will be a surprise to most readers, but I want you to really consider how restricted kids in public school are, how restricted you probably were in school as you read through this.

School starts early in the morning and students have to constantly shift mental gears throughout the day due to a tight schedule of constantly rotating classes and a very short lunch break. Throughout the day, bells tell students when they can’t or must move around or eat. Students have to ask when they need to go to the bathroom or get water and teachers cannot go at all outside of their plan period because students are not trusted to be in the classroom without an adult even for a few minutes. They have no control over who they share space with and very little control over their ability to leave that space if it conflicts with their needs. There is a strict dress code which disproportionately targets marginalized students. Students are expected to be sociable but not given nearly enough opportunities to actually socialize. The school keeps records of everything the student has ever gotten in trouble for, every class the student has taken, every grade they have received, their “class rank,” and every intervention program the student is part of. And like every public school, alternative schools must follow state curriculum standards and by extension, grading, data collection, and required testing. On the surface it might not seem like it, but that last point is actually the most insidious one and its the one that has followed students into remote learning during the pandemic.

According to the people who decide how schools work, there are four factors of student choice: These factors are Time, Place, Pace, and Path. For example, if I am running a unit on plate tectonics, rather than giving students a worksheet and telling them to work on it as we go through a slideshow and turn it in at the end of class, I could put them in groups, give them an online choice board of three different but roughly equivalent projects relating to plate tectonics to choose from, each with different rubrics for completion and tell them they can turn it in at any time in the next two weeks. And then instead of devoting class time to direct instruction, I would give them a variety of resources to peruse and teach them how to research more and let them choose what aspects of plate tectonics to focus on and how to present their information. Now, this is certainly a few steps in the right direction away from making kids sit in rows and listen to the teacher drone on about plate tectonics while they take notes. But it misses the most important factors of choice in my eyes, the things that I would be fired for if I actually gave them the choice about: How students spend their time and what they are allowed to prioritze.

None of this is to say that expecting kids to learn is inherently fucked up or that teaching inherently makes one an oppressive person. On the contrary, authentic teaching and learning are vital to our ability to solve our problems and grow as people. If all students were given the opportunities to spend their childhoods learning things that they were actually interested in, to explore the full breadth of knowledge that humans have compiled at their leisure without timelines or milestones except the ones they set for themselves, to socialize with people of all ages, to authentically participate in society both as learners and as educators, as leaders and as team members, the world wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be a lot less soul crushing.

Now, I mentioned at the beginning of this piece that authentic alternatives do exist.  To get you started on researching what’s out there, I recommend starting with Sudbury schools and the unschooling movement.

But unless these models somehow miraculously become a large and accepted enough presence to get government funding, or money ceases its hold on us all, the public school system will be the only one that most students, especially impoverished students, transient students, english language learners, and disabled students (especially those with profound disabilities) will have access to. Which is a damn shame and a problem I am committed to trying to figure out how to contribute to solving because those are the students whose lives would be most radically transformed for the better if they got the opportunities that these models provide.

#school #anti school #oppression #manifesto #youth liberation #I am aware that this severely pushes how long people are willing to read for on Tumblr #but I needed to get it out there into the void

[yourcoffindoor]

Bulletproof Heart Pt.2

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Prompt: Request from Anon- “ could you write one where the reader is a rock singer and they and mcr are on warped tour together, and they both lowkey like each other but think they’re both out of each other’s league, and find out that they’re both secretly into nerdy stuff + maybe getting together?

TW: Mentions of an abusive relationship.

AN: The plot thickens. Sorry for the delay in uploading <3

Enjoyyyy <3

That night after everyone had stumbled back to the bus in a tipsy stupor, you couldn't shake the thought of your encounter with Gerard from your brain. And what's more, you hated yourself for it. For awhile you tossed and turned, hoping the unwelcome feelings you had would fade to nothing so that you could fall asleep at last.

But your curiosity got the better of you, and there was only would person who could give you the answers you were looking for.

"Hey Gavin, are you still conscious?" you whispered from your bunk. You heard the rustle of sheets moving in response.

"Hmmm?" a low and sleepy sound of acknowledgement answered.

"I'm just wondering...what do you know about Gerard Way?"

As soon as the words left your lips, Gavin's curtains swung open with superhuman force.

"Y/N are you in love with Gerard Way?!" Gavin's voice was no longer tired, having morphed into a sharp and excited whisper. In addition to being the band's social butterfly, he always knew the gossip about everyone within a 20 mile radius.

"Christ, really Gavin? We only spoke for like fifteen minutes."

"So it was like a love at first sight situation?"

"You are so annoying, I swear to god."

"Do you want info or not?" he threatened.

You sighed. "Fine, yes I do."

Gavin cleared his throat as if preparing for a presentation. "OK, so everyone has something good to say about him, seems like a really genuine guy. I've heard he was in a long term relationship for ages, but its been broken off for awhile now. "

"Hmm," you murmured, trying to sound indifferent, "yeah he seems like a sweet guy."

"Yeah and every girl with a pulse seems to be after him. You got some competition out there." he teased. "But seriously, if you're interested you should go for it. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. It's been three years since...you know who."

Gavin didn't say his name, but he had said enough to bring on a wave of sad memories. "Thanks. I'm uh, feeling pretty tired, so... I'm just gonna get some sleep."

"G'night." Gavin said softly, as if aware he had brought out long buried and very unwelcome feelings.

You rolled over in your bunk, pulling your blankets up over your head, unwilling to dwell on the memories that had been drudged up by only a few words. Three years ago. That's when you finally had the strength to break it off with Alex.

You were a different person when you met him. It was your first relationship, and you were naive and forgiving, unable to see the dozens of red flags that should have made you run away from it all.

You had answered an ad that he had posted asking for potential band members for a punk band he was forming. It had been your dream to pursue music, and you responded right away, hoping you'd hit it off. You weren't expecting Alex to be so damn attractive, and when your audition was successful, it was only a matter of time before a relationship began to develop between you.

He was older than you, more experienced, and eager to take you under his wing where he could have the most control. You mistook his over-protectiveness as a sign of love, and he slowly cut you off from people outside of the band, leaving you isolated and dependent on him.

Eventually he would get angry if he saw you speak to any other man. He took your phone regularly so that he could look through it, questioning you about anything he didn't like. The fights you had were loud and ugly, your voices rising and crashing like cantankerous bursts of thunder. Eventually, they became violent.

You were stuck in a cycle of affection and fear, held there as if caught in a tide that would never bring you back to shores of sanity. But you did eventually find the strength to get out when your friend reached out to you, offering you a place to stay. You packed your bags that night and didn't look back.

Your band was not just a career for you, it was a symbol of healing, proof that you were able to overcome it all and strike out on your own. You rolled over in your bunk, and pushed the unwanted memories aside, reminding yourself of the promise you had made to be the best damn band on Warped tour. Nothing was going to change that now.

x x x 

Your first performance went by in a haze of adrenaline and sweat. The crowd was young and eager to see what you had to offer, and you were all to happy to give them something they'd remember for a long long time.

There were several people in the crowd who were fans already, proudly wearing your band's shirts and mouthing along to all of the lyrics. Others were slowly converted, headbanging enthusiastically by the end of your set. When the band's final song was met with deafening hoots and cheers, you'd felt like you'd accomplished your mission.

"We fucking killed it!" Gavin declared as he slumped in the nearest chair, exhausted.

"The crowd was good, huh?" you beamed as you wiped the sweat from your face, still breathless from your onstage antics. "Let's hope they're all like this."

"Can't get any worse than our first show ever, remember?" Liz laughed as she recalled the groups early days. "Never had so much beer pelted at me in my life."

People milled about as you and your band mates caught your breath. A few musicians from other bands popped in to say hi and let you know that they enjoyed your performance.

"Hey you actually made it!" Gavin jumped up from his chair as he noticed a new face entering the backstage area. "Guys did you meet Frank last night? From My Chemical Romance?" A man with wide hazel eyes gave a quick wave from the the entryway.

"This guy was goin on and on about how you guys were the best new band on warped tour. Had to see if he was just full of shit."

"He always starts bragging when he's drunk." you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I'm glad he did. You guys put on a pretty kick-ass show. Plus Gerard really wanted to check it out."

Your heartbeat, which had only just settled from jumping around on stage, began to speed up again.

"Gerard?"you asked softly, caught off guard by the mention of his name.  You didn't see the familiar black haired boy near frank. You only saw Gavin attempting to give you a discreet wink, which you returned with a harsh glare.

"Yeah actually we were all there. Mikey and Ray had to run to another show. Don't know where Gee disappeared to though," Frank craned his head, looking around at the hustle and bustle that was happening permanently everywhere on Warped tour. "Ah, there he is. Gerard!"

You saw Gerard, surrounded by a small circle of fans, each holding something they wanted him to sign. You felt a strange pang when you noticed they were all pretty girls, and Gavin's words from last night came back to haunt you. You got some competition out there. You struggled to identify just what emotion was suddenly eating away at you--were you really jealous? Or was it the realization that even if you decided to make a move, it was probably hopeless?

Gerard nodded at Frank. "Be there in a sec!" he shouted, continuing to sign autographs until he had gotten through everyone.

Frank spoke with your band mates, but you were too distracted by the knowledge that Gerard had watched you perform to be sociable. You were anxious as to what his opinion would be, but tried to push it out of your thoughts.

You watched nervously as Gerard spoke to Frank and Gavin, noticing that he would glance over at you every so often. When your eyes finally met he gave you a nod and a warm smile. You gave yourself an internal pep talk to try and stay calm. You can just be friends, you don't need to do anything except be friendly. For the love of god, act normal.

Eventually he made his way over to you,offering another soft and lopsided smile,but his time it almost seemed as if he was shy. "Great show. From one lead singer to another, your band has a fucking killer sound."

You thanked him, grinning like an idiot while cautionary alarm bells went off in your head.

"I might be a bit biased though, because of the shirt your wearing."

You looked down, having forgotten what you threw on that morning. It was one of your favorite shirts,  a short sleeved tee with the X-Men symbol emblazoned on the front. You'd had it for years, as evidenced by the smattering of small holes peeking through the bottom edge. Oh no, you thought, he likes comics too?

"You're a fan?" you asked coolly, a stark contrast to the giddy panic that was building up inside you.

"Yes! I actually wanted to make comics before My Chem was a thing." He spoke animatedly, his round hazel eyes widening even further. "But life had other plans. Not that I'm complaining."

That familiar heat rose in your cheeks. This conversation was dangerous, and you were trying desperately to fight the feeling that this man was something close to perfect.

The world around the two of you became an insignificant blur as you both discussed comics at length, and you hung on every word, taking turns revealing how you first discovered them and sharing your favorites. He even recommended a few titles that you had never heard of. His demeanor was passionate and lively, entirely different from the sullen boy you met the night before.

"I uh, I'm actually working on a comic at the moment," he began, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, suddenly bashful, "If you're interested you should stop by the bus sometime--"

Gerard's eyes focused on something just behind you, and you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder. You turned and felt your stomach drop to a sickening low. There, standing next to the drunk who was hitting on you last night, was your ex-boyfriend Alex.

"What are the odds!" he smiled at you, blank looking smug beside him. You found yourself at a loss for words.

"What...what are you doing here?"

He scoffed. "Ouch Y/N, is that anyway to say hello? I'm here for the same reason you are." He turned his attention to Gerard. "I'm Alex. Y/N and I used to have a band together back in the day. Well, a bit more than that actually." He smirked at you, instantly transforming any butterflies you had felt while talking to Gerard into pure revulsion.

This was your worst case scenario, and it was one you had never even considered to be possible. Seeing his face again made you freeze up, and you were at a loss for words. You looked up at Gerard through your eyelashes, wondering if the dark and overwhelming swirl of emotion inside you was showing on your face. His brows were furrowed ever so slightly as if he could sense that something wasn't quite right.

"Nice to meet you," he replied curtly before turning his attention back to you. I'll uh, let you catch up. I'll just be over there with Frank...if you need anything."

You merely nodded, too caught up in your feelings to respond properly. "I'll catch you later then."

Alex saw this opportunity as a chance to reach for an embrace, but you stepped back and out of reach.

"Just what the hell are you doing?"

"What are you implying? I'm just dropping in to say hello before Midnite Heist performs later. I'm their new drummer after all. I can't even do that?"

"No," you said, struggling to maintain a low voice, "You can't. I told you I never wanted to see you again. We may be on the same tour, but that doesn't mean you can approach me. Don't try it again."

He laughed, clearly embarrassed to be spoken too like that in front of his band mate. "If you're trying to get with that Way guy, don't bother. You're punching way above your weight with that one."

You took a moment to steel yourself, and decided to walk away rather than let thing turn into a scene. Before you turned to leave, you offered one final warning.

"I haven't forgotten what you did to me. Speak to me again and you'll regret it."

You walked off, hearing mocking 'Ooooh's from Alex and Brent as you left. You saw heads turning in your direction as you stormed away towards the bus, including Gerard's, but you couldn't be bothered by that now- not when you were struggling to keep it together.

Fuck Fuck Fuck your internal monologue looped on a bitter repeat. This was going to be the longest tour of your life.

#gerard way fanfic #gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #mcr fanfiction

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/81416395

Chapter 74

They caught Nick. They came from all sides, eventually overwhelming him. He was already past various blows with their truncheons when one of them yelled: “Don't kill him! We need him alive!” “Let me go! I'm not Foggy Jack!”, Nick shouted, but he only received another blow for that. “What do we need him for?”, one of the Bobbies snarled. “Well, as proof?”, his colleague argued. “Sure, we can kill him now and tell everyone we caught Foggy Jack, but nobody's gonna believe us! When we bring him back alive, I bet we'll get a shiny medal!” “But I'm not...Foggy Jack!”, Nick tried again, gasping for air. “I'm Nick Lightbearer!” The Bobbies broke out in laughter. “Sure, and I'm the King of England”, said the one who stood closest to him. “Don't you recognise my voice?” “All I'm hearing is some pathetic whining of a captured criminal.” “I have to speak to Constable Hunt! He'll recognise me!” “You're not quite in the position to make demands!” “Come on! One of you should identify me!” Nick looked around. “Constable Rowley! Constable Whistler!, he blurted out. “You know me! Haven't I been always good to you?” The Constables he called shoved the others aside to look at him, but their faces weren't friendly.

“You fucked us over, that's what you did! Made us look quite stupid for thinking you've been stumbling around drunk in all these nights”, Constable Rowley spat. “But tonight you went too far!” “It was about time you snap”, Whistler added. “Besides, Constable Hunt is so stoned he'd even take a flowerpot for Nick Lightbearer. Whatever you drugged him with, it backfired!” “That wasn't me! The other one is Foggy Jack!” “How convenient. The one who's dead and can't defend himself!” “You have to make sure he's really dead!”, Nick begged. “No worries, we take care of everything, especially of you, celebrity”, the closest Bobby said smirking and ended the argument with a dose of knockout drops he drove into Nick's right upper arm.

Nick woke up in a prison for the second time in his life. Now it didn't look like he'd get off lightly. His first reaction was to rattle at the bars of his cell and call out for the Constables. When a tall man in a red uniform walked into his direction, he backed away a little. “What's up, little one? Need attention?”, the Bobby asked, playing with his electric truncheon. “You have to hear me out! I'm not Foggy Jack!”, Nick  continued to beg. “I see, you're our main attraction”, the tall man said quietly, stepping closer to the bars. “Did you find the other one? James? Is he...?” Nick gulped, avoiding the Constable's piercing gaze. “This is a sad day for Wellington Wells and a sad day for us Constables”, the Bobby began lamenting. “You brought great misery upon us all and we have the excruciating task of spreading the news.” “But I'm not Foggy Jack...”, Nick repeated in despair. “I'm...” But the man interrupted him. “Do you believe we can tell the horrible truth to our orderly citizens? Break their hearts like that and tell them that their most beloved idol has turned into their worst enemy? Can we allow the smartest of them to ask questions? Can we afford to make all the others unhappy? No, you see, we can't. It should've never been revealed. You should've never interfered.” Nick was confused. "But I..."

"Oh, don't worry, we won't put you to shame. Actually, it's easy. Uncle Jack went on holiday, Nick Lightbearer too and their names remain untainted. Nobody would want it any other way. But you...you're still here! You'll be the town's next great news! Your name is Norbert Pickles, right? Pays off to read the gossip magazines...You'll be a splendid Foggy Jack! Just try to look a tad bit guilty when you're being hanged." "...hanged?" The man's mocking grin turned wider. "Remind yourself, we're doing you a favour. You should be happy that we stopped you." "You know I'm innocent! You can't do this to me!" "Innocent, ey?" The Bobby laughed. "Think again, Mr. Pickles! We'd keep you anyway and let you rot in this cell. Instead, you get one last fancy show for yourself! You won't be able to hear the applause afterwards, but...you know what it sounds like...just imagine it." The Bobby continued to laugh, turned his back on Nick and vanished into the corridor.

Nick watched him go, his fingers still cramped around the bars. The Bobby's laughter faded away, leaving room for gloomy silence. Nick was out of words. He had no strength left to scream. Letting go of the bars, he slumped back on the plank bed. Wiping his face, he noticed he was still wearing the silver mask. He removed it and stared at it in disbelief. Foggy Jack. The way he had accepted it without asking questions... He had wanted it.

Nick dashed it against the brick wall. It made a little crack, not enough to satisfy him. Shame and regret spread in his chest. And disappointment. The friend he had met once in a lonely night, to whom he had opened his heart...he had lied to him, used him... Nick couldn't bear how stupid he had been. It made sense now. His mind had tried to warn him by showing him memories, but he had never understood. It had felt so good to be near James. The drug had blurred his sense. And then one thing had led to the other. Nick had stopped asking questions. Even now he didn't see everything clear, but he assumed things...He recalled the most important memories.

They made him shiver. Only a few hours ago he would've done it again. He had been so sure that this was the only way. He had even been looking forward to finally try out his gift. He still knew how he would've done it, how he would've moved the blade...If the Constable hadn't interrupted him... Nick broke out in tears and hated himself for it. He didn't want to cry for himself. He didn't deserve it. And still, he couldn't help but to feel pity for his former self that he had betrayed. He had never wanted any of this! He had always wanted to make other people happy, and to be loved in return. Yeah, he had also wanted to be famous, but not for hurting people. Nick didn't know what he regretted most. His stupidity or his lies.

Now he'll end in shame, hated and feared, hanged in public and sneered at by the masses. It was the worst show he could imagine and it would also drag his real name through the muck, the only part of his personality that was still of value. Memories overwhelmed him, scenes of former innocence, in the park with his first guitar, in the shop with Bates who had always welcomed him until he had fucked it up...He was glad to remember his old life again, but now it was hard to handle the memories.

Nick pulled down his wig and threw it away without giving it a glance. A crying fit shook him until he didn't even have enough energy to cry.

Perhaps he should be thankful that it ended, he then thought, lying on the plank. All the pain he had caused. It would be over. He should've died in his bathtub with the power cell. That would've saved other lives. Poor Arthur, having been entangled in all this... Nick comforted himself with the thought that Arthur was free now. He couldn't claim to be happy that his former lover ran away from him, but he understood. It hurt to remember how Arthur had yelled at him with this angry and panic-stricken expression, how he pushed him away. But he escaped James' clutches like that, he would survive. And he himself would be over it soon...

Nick wondered if the band would watch him too. He could imagine the whole town coming to see Foggy Jack hang. It hurt to imagine. Perhaps they'd think it's a different Norbert Pickles, not theirs, he mused. If they even thought much. Nick wished they would keep him in better memory, but there was still a tiny chance that they would. If his execution was long forgotten, they wouldn't link Foggy Jack to their old friend Norbert, right? A deep sigh escaped Nick. Sadly, it was time to leave the afterworld to it's own devices.

After all, he had gotten the chance to put a few things right, to find his friends again and be a part of the Make Believes for one last time. He couldn't prevent that they'd forget him, but on the contrary, nobody could take the good memories from him again. Nick even smiled a little, thinking about the excessive life he had led. He'd like to see anyone else do that!

Arthur didn't look behind once. He ran back to the Parade District and struggled his way through it. It was easier now. The Wellies were all sloshed enough to not pay attention anymore. Most of them were still trying to dance, some of them sang off-tune. They had parted into small groups and didn't care about who passed by. Like this, the night faded away and the next day came. Nobody made a move to get back to the usual business. The whole town was in trance. Drunken, stoned, tired. Arthur did everything in a hurry and didn't even make time to rejoice when he finally entered the rail tunnels.

He walked through the building, or rather climbed through the maze that the building had become in time. He felt like he had entered a different world. It was so quiet. His ears were still ringing from the noise in the town and suddenly all he heard were his own footsteps echoing from the empty, dirty walls. The emptiness felt  eerie. Arthur concluded that the Bobbies had abandoned their shifts for this special occasion. Nobody cared about Skippers as long as they could stuff their bellies or get high from Coconut Joy. After all, it was the biggest festival of the year. Arthur couldn't believe how lucky he was.

Finally standing on Britannia Bridge, he had to pause. He felt the cold wind running through his hair. Where did the wind suddenly come from? Had it been so chill in the town too? Arthur only now noticed something as usual as the weather. And the smell...was that the ocean? Arthur hadn't really paid attention to smells since his first shock from withdrawal. After getting a noseful of motilene, dead rats, mould and chemical waste he had gone numb. But this...Arthur couldn't remember smelling this in the Garden District. At his favourite place, the cliff... This was different. He was so close to the water. He could also hear it hiss and fume. It was quite loud. Walking closer to the balustrade, he could even see it. The stone felt cold and wet. Did Bobbies patrol here without noticing all this? The moonlight reflected in the water. Arthur had the feeling that even the moon was closer here. The sky was speckled with stars. It looked much clearer without the motilene fog. As if he could touch it. It was like the sky had arranged a welcoming committee for a petty Skipper like him.

Arthur turned his gaze, following the course of the bridge. He was surprised about how far it went. It showed him how tiny and narrow the town was, with all it's contorted alleys that all went in a circle. Arthur wondered how long it would take to cross it. The bridge faded into the dark horizon. And there, wrapped in blackness, lay the mainland. It looked so calm, untouched by all the madness. Did they know what happened here? And what happened to them? Arthur had never had the time to ponder over what the war had done to the rest of the world. But judging by the view he was provided, he thought they were better off.

Arthur made his first steps along the bridge. Here as well, he could hear his own footsteps. They mixed into the rushing of the ocean. “I'll be right with you, Percy...”, he whispered, as if he had to bolster himself up. “I'm almost there...”

He didn't get an answer. Suddenly, Arthur's heart sunk. He was disappointed, as if the ocean, the bridge or the moon were supposed to support him. Arthur's footsteps became slower, until he finally came to a halt. The balustrade had to stabilise him again. He didn't feel it's cold as intensely as before, because his own hands were cold now. Arthur leaned over it, sucking in the air. He looked up to the sky. What was happening to him? That was all he wanted. The freedom. The calm. But he didn't feel free. He felt awful.

“Percy, I...”, he began. The howling wind interrupted him. “Arthur!”, he heard Percy shout in fear. “Arthur, where are you?” I have to go, Arthur told himself. He forced himself to go on, left the supporting handrail and struggled his way forward. “Arthur!” He heard it again. But this time, it was a different voice. Arthur froze, staring at the wide horizon, as if he could hold onto it. The view was beautiful, a symphony of light and dark. Auspicious. It must be wonderful to join it.

But it wasn't meant to be, Arthur thought. Not for him.

He turned around and made a step. Then another.

Arthur ran back the entire way, possessed by only one thought. He didn't pay attention to how the ocean fell silent, how the fresh smell of salt in the air vanished and made room for the usual mould. He didn't look at the various desperate scribbles at the walls, messages from former Downers that had tried to escape, not at the faded poster of Uncle Jack, explaining that all Skippers were crazy. He was highly focused when he entered the town again and sneaked through the district. Still, nobody noticed him. The whole town was sloshed and sleeping and Arthur cold move freely.

He stopped at a big, unpleasant looking brick building to check the situation. It seemed like here of all places the town was still in order. A Bobby in red uniform sat at a counter and looked very awake. He also fought for staying awake. Arthur saw him slapping his own face and almost chuckled at it. What a shame that some Bobbies still kept their principles.

“What do you want?”, the man asked grumpily. “Visiting hours are in the afternoon.” “Wouldn't it be too late then?”, Arthur said mysteriously as if they shared a secret. “Too late for what?” The Bobby only looked warier. “Well...I heard you made a good catch last night.” “Did you?” The Bobby was unimpressed. “I still don't see why that's your business. Come back in the afternoon like everyone else and see if you're lucky.” “Perhaps this explains why I'm in a hurry...” Arthur held out his press pass. "This is the last chance to get anything useful out of him. People would die to read more about him...I mean, they don't die anymore...weird choice of words there..."

"'O' Courant, ey?” The Bobby read the pass. “Excuse me Sir, but our special guest isn't available for interrogations by the public eye. It's too risky, you know? A very unpleasant experience." "So, you're afraid he might say something...inconvenient?" Arthur could watch the Bobby regret his words. "Er, no, no...of course not like that...but he's...er...sleeky. We shouldn't give him any options to cause havoc." "So, I better go and write about that instead...", Arthur thought out loud. The Bobby didn't look amused. "What are you implying?" "Just what I said. I can only tell the public what I'm hearing. And besides, you do want a big story on the most cheerful event right after Memorial Day, right? I need to give them a monster they can hate, and therefore celebrate it's end! If he's not the monster we all think he is, I better go and correct that image." The Bobby flared up. "You shut your goddamn mouth you...!" But he changed his mind right after and sat back down. His look turned benevolent. "My apologies, Sir...It's been a tough night...Your reasoning makes sense. I'll let you through, but it's at your own risk, are we clear?" "Crystal clear", Arthur said, eagerly to go on.

He entered the prison, looking into every corner because he didn't trust them. But nobody seemed to care about their guest. Bobbies at another counter focused on some papers. Or perhaps they only pretended to work. Arthur decided to ignore them in return and walked on by. When he descended a long and wide staircase that led deep into the dark core of the building, he realized that he needed help or else he'd wander around in here forever. Arthur regretted that he hadn't gotten a welcoming committee and now had to explain it all again. When he heard footsteps behind him, he decided to use the opportunity. Every Bobby was just as good. Arthur turned around and found three of them walking towards him.

“Mr. Hastings, I presume?”, one of them asked. Oh, there was his welcoming committee. Arthur affirmed shortly. "You shouldn't go alone, Sir”, one of the Constables said. He was a lot friendlier than the one at the entrance. “This building is quite the maze, you could get lost. Let us guide you to our special guest. He's lodged in a special place." Arthur saw that he had no choice anyway and went with the Bobbies, feeling uncomfortable in two ways. First, they made his plan more complicated and second, he didn't trust them one bit. He began to wonder if the Bobby at the entrance gave up to soon, if it all had been to easy. That was why he kept his distance for them. No chance to be drugged by surprise or quicky hit with a truncheon.

They descended more stairs and went along more dark hallways. This truly was a maze. Arthur was glad he had quite a good memory, because no one would guide him outside. His heart sunk when they stopped in front of an empty cell. "Where is he? Is it too late?" Arthur tried to sound not too worried. The Bobbies gave each other a look. Then they brought out their electric truncheons. "You're arrested, Mr. Hastings, for illegal investigation!" "This is ridiculous!", Arthur shouted out. "You better cooperate, Sir. See, it's not so bad. You'll have a nice cell for your own, we'll feed you daily and you'll have nothing to worry about ever again. You can even take Joy." The Bobbies came closer, herding him towards the cell. Arthur figured the Constable only bothered to argue with him because he thought this was a done deal. Three armed men and one helpless reporter.

They didn't expect him to through a Banger at them. The selfmade bomb exploded in their faces and when they fell, arms up to protect their faces, Arthur dashed at them. He took the truncheon of the first and let it clash against his head. The second grabbed him but Arthur kicked him in the stomach and got free. He needed two hits to take him down. The third was pulling himself up at the wall when Arthur turned to him. It was a dirty fight. The Bobby was disoriented and flailed around. He still had his truncheon and Arthur had to make sure he didn't get hit by accident. Arthur striked a blow on the other man's long legs and made him stumble, leaving his head unprotected for a second. Another hit against the neck later he lay on the ground, still mourning. Arthur used the chance and kneeled down on the man, fixing him in place.

"Where is he?", he hissed at him. "Where's Foggy Jack?" The Bobby frowned and turned his head away. Arthur shook him. "Tell me or I'll blow your lights out! Do you really want to die for this?" The Bobby winced, then he stuttered a descripiton: "He's in...block A...in the east wing...left from the entrance...five stairwells down...at the end of the hallway...left..." With that, he fell unconscious. Arthur went on, looking for any sign that pointed to the direction of block A, hoping he didn't have to go all the way back to the entrance hall. He found one and followed it, then hoping he would descent the right stairwell. All he could make out of the description was that they kept Nick in a cell very far down, probably the safest area. Arthur gulped. Descending into hell couldn't be more uncomfortable.

To avoid the Bobbies he crawled along the vents and pig pipes that came out of the wall here and there. It was more confusing to orientate this way but Arthur set all his trust in his intuition that had saved his life so many times by now. Five stairwells later he actually found a long hallway that he followed, viewing it from his high above position on a pipe. Then he had to leave it to go left, but he had to wait for another red Bobby to pass by before he could to that. The Bobby slowly strolled, whistleling a song. Arthur frowned. How could this man be so happy despite everything? All the suffering prisoners. They didn't even give them Joy. Arthur heard them beg for Joy or cry about their missing children. He understood Nick a bit more now. If he had the chance to open all cells he would use it and he'd be happy to watch the chaos unfold. When he finally went on, his heartbeat began to pound in his temples. He was craving to see him again but he was also afraid of the moment. And also, he was afraid that he had gone the wrong way. There were many empty cells in this hallway and Arthur wondered if it was even still in use.

One cell had a prisoner that made Arthur's heart miss a beat. He walked towards him with high hopes, because he had seen the person wearing a black suit. The man lay on his plank bed and stared at the wall with an empty expression. Arthur eyed his face and hair and saw nothing familiar in both. This man was probably here for a long time, considering how empty he was. Disappointed,  Arthur turned his gaze away and went on. He found more empty cells next to this and his heart sunk.

Suddenly, he heard a faint voice say his name. Arthur froze in his tracks and looked around. He saw that the man in the black suit had gotten up and clutched the bars. Arthur walked back to him, eyeing the prisoner up and down. When the man saw him from up close, his eyes widened. "Arthur?", he said again in disbelief. The voice didn't fit the image. "Nick?", Arthur asked, doubting. The other man seemed to notice something. He put a hand on his cheek. He was wearing no mask and he also wasn't wearing any facial hair other than a few stubbles. His hair was darker, shorter and an utter mess. It was lacking the caramel tone that Arthur adored so much. He also looked younger, despite being all pale, having dark rings under red eyes and being unshaven. It was his expression, his eyes that finally made Arthur see something familiar in him.

Nick blushed. "Yeah, it's me...If I knew you would come, I would've made my hair..." He gave a little adorable smile. Arthur melted. He reached out and put his hands on the other man's, so that both were grabbing the bars. "Nick!", he sighed. Nick's eyes watered again, but this time out of happiness. Simply feeling Arthur's hands on his was a gift from heaven. "Are you a prisoner too?", he asked. "No, I'm here for you...", Arthur answered, now recognizing and adoring the green eyes. Nick looked down as if he was flattered, smilling widely. "You came back for me?” “U-huh.” Arthur nodded happily. Nick palpated the other man's hands. “Do you have the key?" Arthur beamed at him. "Who the fuck needs a key?"

Arthur admitted to himself that causing an explosion in a prison full of enemies was a big risk, but it was simply what felt most satisfying. When the damn cell door blew up, deforming and screeching as if in pain and finally shattered on the floor, Arthur was about to dance with joy. Well, a second later it seemed like someone had had the same idea because they heard another massive explosion that even made the walls shake for a moment. "What the hell was that?", Nick gasped, looking up to the ceiling. "Not a part of my plan", Arthur assured him. "We better get out of here quickly."

They heard hasty footsteps and screams coming from the upper floors. Stairs were run up and doors slammed shut. However, Arthur sensed that their hurry wasn't directed at them. None of their footsteps came closer. Instead, Arthur and Nick approached them. They ran along the corridor without meeting a patrol. Then they reached the pipe that Arthur had climbed and for the first time Arthur doubted his plan. “It would be better if we...”, he said and pointed at the pipe. Looking at Nick, he hoped the man understood and wasn't too scared. Nick's gaze shortly wandered along the pipe, up to the ceiling. “Go ahead, I follow you”, he simply answered.

Relieved, Arthur started to climb. He kept looking back at Nick, checking how he was doing and offering help. Nick copied his every move without protesting and Arthur soon calmed down. They tracked through the prison as if they had been practising this for ages. They saw Bobbies running along, cussing or lamenting. None of them sounded like he knew what was going on. They only complained about the fuss. Also, none of the prisoners were free. They jeered at their guards, but it was obvious that this wasn't a revolution. Arthur felt sorry for that but he had no time to make any change.

A few floors later they could see the big staircase. Arthur gestured Nick to stop. Fuck in a bucket, Arthur thought. This didn't look good. Any and all Constables gathered here and lined up. Also Nick saw it. “Oh dear...I guess they won't let us pass for an autograph?” Arthur searched the staircase, finding out that they could climb on a ventilation shaft, even though they would be seen by everyone. It also meant that after climbing, they couldn't just get down from it and walk out. However, at the ceiling he detected something that looked like a hatch. He hoped he could trust his judgement at a long distance, knowing that he had no other chance anyway. “We have get up there”, he explained his plan to Nick. “Just try not to look down and don't get distracted.” Nick approved with a nod. “Okay.”

They ascended the shaft that provided more support than the greasy pipe. It didn't take long until a Bobby saw them. "Oi!", he cried out, pointing at them. "They escape!"  It didn't matter who "they" were, as long as they had someone they could blame all the chaos on. The Bobbies started to yell and reach out for the shaft, trying to climb on it. Arthur's heart skipped a beat when he saw that one of them climbed on another Constable's shoulders. "Don't panic, just climb a little faster", he said to Nick and fastened his own pace. He didn't imagine that a Bobby could get on the shaft and chase them down on it. Nick went along and tried to ignore the howling of his enemies. Soon, they had to step on the hands that reached the shaft, but that didn't stop the Bobbies from trying. Arthur had to go for drastic measures. "Hold on!", he said to Nick and threw a bomb right into the mob. The power sent them flying, slapping against the walls and each other. As funny as it looked, the show was accompanied by the sound of bones breaking. The Bobbies' yells of pain mixed with their howling and the smell of burned flesh spread in the air. It was a bloodbath.

Arthur now focused on the hatch. "We're almost there!", he shouted over the noise to bolster Nick up. Finally, they climbed up the ladder to the hatch. Arthur threw himself against it and was surprised by how easily it opened. He almost fell upwards and yelped. "What is it?", Nick asked fearfully. "Nothing, nothing, we're safe, just get out..." Arthur climbed up and crawled onto the cobblestone. Then he grabbed Nick by the arm to pull him out. "Holy shit!", Nick gasped right after landing on the cobblestone himself. Arthur turned his head to where Nick was looking. "What the...?" The town had changed completely. Houses and cars were burning, corpses lay on the street and some remaining Wellies ran around, wielding truncheons or frying pans, looking like they got into a fight. Perhaps this was the revolution. It could also be Coconut Joy at it's finest. "What happened?" Nick was confused. "I have no idea, but we should stay out of this at any cost. Follow me."

Nick didn't ask any further questions when they went on. They heard screams in the distance that made Arthur's hair stand on end and he begged inwardly that they didn't get into a fight. They ran through clouds of smoke, holding their breath. Turning a corner, the sight didn't get better. The district descendet into chaos. The former order didn't apply anymore, as all the TV screens were demolished and the drones lay on the ground, burning to ashes. There were no Constables, at least no living ones. Ripped banners and destroyed marked stalls were the remnants of the once happy festival. It looked like the Wastrels had taken over. “Liars!”,  was scribbled on a poster, right over the false smile of a model. “They were so small”, was painted on another house.

"They are off their Joy!", Arthur stated. "You were right! This town is falling apart!" Nick eyed the chaos with terror. They ran down the once glorious alley that led to the train station. It's door was open. Arthur had a bad feeling about having to fight through a bunch of hysterical Wellies in there, but he also admitted that it wasn't a surprise that others wanted to escape, too. They ran throught the open door, passed by the shredded poster of Uncle Jack and went on downstairs. Arthur calmed down a bit when they walked along the rails, towards their freedom. "This is the way out of town, right?", Nick asked after a while. "Yes", was all Arthur could say. Nick didn't answer. Arthur was already glad that he didn't protest. They began to hear muffled voices in the distance, as if there was a group of people nearby. "Oh, perfect", Arthur gasped. "Let's hope they're friendly." It didn't seem like it thought. They could hear yelling and running and things hitting other things. Arthur was about to discuss a plan with Nick when another sudden explosion shook the building. The walls gave in, the floor cracked open and the tunnel got filled with a thick plume of dust. It was impossible to see where to run. Nick and Arthur just held onto each other.

When the dust had set and it was silent again they opened their eyes. They were kneeling on the ground, embracing each other. Arthur let go first to climb up the debris, to see how bad it was. "No!", Arthur screamed at the mountain of rubble that blocked their way out. He tore at the chunks of wall, but they were too heavy to be moved by one person alone. "Nick, we need to do this together!" Nick quickly stood by his side and pulled at the chunk too. It didn't move. They were giving their best, but Arthur also knew that they both were exhausted. "Goddamnit, I wasted my last bomb on the Bobbies! We need to find another way!" Arthur let go and climbed back. "Arthur..." Nick's voice was quiet and consorting. "I think this is blocked, too." Arthur looked up and saw the tunnel being clogged up by debris. "No...", he gasped and searched the other walls for a way out. A vent, a pipe, a hole, just something. Nick looked around on the other side. But no matter how throroughly they searched, the wall didn't grant them their wish.

"So this is it?", Arthur yelled, punching the wall with his fist. "This is how it ends? I wanted to save you, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you! This isn't fair! Nothing is ever fair in my life!" He slumped down on a chunk. He thought about Percy, who he had failed to protect, who would now never know that his brother still cared about him, he thought about Sally who he had driven out of his house for something that hadn't been her fault. He saw how he had met her again, scolding her instead of saying sorry, how he had refused to help her when she had needed it the most. And how he had abandoned Nick, left him to deal with this insane killer. If he had taken Nick with him at his first escape, they would be on the mainland now, being free, viewing the stars together... Arthur's eyes welled up. "Why am I such a failure?", he shouted out, looking at the ceiling as if there was a god to answer him. The tears broke loose and made him huddle up, being too embarassed to look at Nick anyway.

Nick walked over to his desperate, sobbing lover and sat down next to him. Soon, Arthur was wrapped into a caressing embrace. "You did save me, Arthur", Nick whispered to him. "From being hanged in public. From being insulted, pelted with trash and spit on. From having the town dance on my grave..." A little rumble in the distance made him look up. However, nothing but silence followed it. "You will still die here...", Arthur rasped. "You'll starve if we can't find rats to eat..." "I was already dead", Nick replied. "But you came back for me, proved me your love like that...showed me that after all this I'm still...I'm still worth loving...this is the most beautiful thing you could've done for me..." He stroked Arthur's back. "I'm sorry you have to pay such a heavy price for this...You did enough to deserve a happy life and I wish I could make it up to you, prove my love in return. Also I'd love to spend more time with you." He kissed the other man's cheek.

Arthur sobbed, but less deeply than before. He palpated Nick's arm. "We still have some time left..." "Hmm, that's the spirit", Nick purred. Arthur let out the air and smiled a little. "Nick, if you really feel like that, if you feel it was all worth it...then I don't regret anything!" "Well, I guess you had your reasons, doing all this for me..." Nick squeezed his hand. "You're a crazy fucker, Nick and you deserve a beating for not telling me the truth!" Nick held up his arms and bowed his head. "Well...feel free to give it to me now..." Arthur grabbed him by the shoulders. "I know a better way to spend my last bits of energy..." Nick smiled. "My luck..." His hands explored the other man's upper body. "And mine..." Arthur closed his eyes and kissed Nick. The touch caused his synapses to flare up and his body to want more.

They busied themselves, ignoring the rumbling noises around them. There was nowhere they could run anyway. All Arthur cared about was if he could make Nick beg for mercy before they died. When they both shouted out their exstasy there was a moment Arthur thought the ceiling would give in.

A few moments later, when Arthur crawled off of Nick, gasping and moaning with pleasure, his lover cuddled into him and whispered: "I think the tunnel is about to collapse..." "Yeah, I figured that too...", Arthur sighed out of breath. They both eyed the ceiling as if they were lying in the grass stargazing. "I like to think it's because of us." Nick laughed. "Perhaps we'll make it into the history books." Arthur joined the laughter. "We fucked so hard the town got destroyed..." They had fun imagining this until a thin crack wandered along the ceiling of the tunnel. Arthur instinctively pulled the smaller man closer and pressed his head against his chest.

"I'm not scared, you're scared...", Nick muttered from under Arthur's arm and the taller man giggled. "I won't risk to die in fear before this show ends", Arthur advised him. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this by the way", Nick brought it up and grabbed his hair. "If I knew you were coming, I..." Arthur waved him off. "You've always been ugly." "Yeah, but I mean I would've made myself extra ugly," Nick deadpanned. "Nevermind, I have to deal with it now. It takes a lot to be your boyfriend, I figured that, but I'm used to suffering", Arthur answered sternly. Nick chuckled. "My sexy Downer..." Arthur had to grin at that. "I wonder, did I seduce you?" "How could I resist?", the rock idol blurted out. "With your formfitting suit, tightly parted hair,  sharp cheekbones to die for and always towering above me like that...I mean no, not at all..." Arthur stroked the other man's dark hair. "Poor thing..." "Yeah, my thoughts exactly." Nick folded his arms. "I am the victim in this." Arthur kissed him again.

He was just wondering how often he could kiss Nick before it was over when there was another rumble that made dust ripple from the walls. Arthur looked up but Nick's gentle hand pulled him back down. "Thank you", the rockstar whispered and kissed him again. The ceiling came down with a roar.

Darkness. Silence. Then something. A noise. Like a beep. A beep? Yeah...a beep. And light. A flashing bright light that hurt his eyes. He blinked, frowned, moaned. The light split up into colors. The shadows in front of him slowly turned into figures. Could it be? No...no... Oh, please, no...

"Welcome back, Mr. Worthing", the hideous face of a doctor cheered. "Thank goodness we found you in time! We would've lost you forever! You shouldn't be so careless. Also, you caused quite the trouble out there." He tutted and shook his head. "I can't believe you fooled us for so long, but don't worry, it was simply the wrong formula that made you do this. We have a much more advanced one right here." He showed him a syringe with an ominous pink fluid in it. "No!", Jack cried, hammering against the glass wall of his cell. "No, please, just kill me!" "Aw, why would we do that?", the doctor said with a pitiful face. "Killing you for a little accident." He waved him off. "You're everyone's best friend. Their uncle!" "You can't go on with this forever!", Jack spat. "You don't even have a working formula! You'll never have one!" The doctor scratched his beard. "Hmm...you should let the science to the experts, Mr. Worthing. Your own attempts of self-medication went terribly wrong, didn't they?" Jack frowned. "Aw, what's that face? We want your smile back, Mr. Worthing. Do you remember it?" "Stop! Stop this bullshit!", Jack blurted out. "If not, then you're lucky. You're just in time for another News Hour with...well, with yourself! Isn't that funny, haha! Who else can watch himself on the telly, you're truly blessed!"

The doctors started to laugh. The one who had been talking pointed at the TV in a corner of the room. Jack cursed the damn thing. Why couldn't at least the doctors stop watching this shit? They didn't believe a word of it but still enjoyed hearing the happy lies. Jack suffered when the screen lit up and the stupid jolly show began. Well, when he closed his eyes he at least didn't have to see his own awfully forced smile.

This was his punishment, he concluded. Endless torture. This time they wouldn't be so stupid to trust him. They perhaps didn't really care about healing him. They could broadcast the old shows for all eternity and nobody would notice. Oh, Nick... He did this to him...He was such a smart boy...He did the right thing...still, it hurt... "She loved them, you know...She had dozens of them...You'd think at twelve your daughter would be over dolls...but she made these darling little costumes...", he heard himself say. Oh, yeah, my dear Margaret...she didn't deserve any of this...but wait, why was he talking about her?

Jack opened his eyes and saw himself shiver, struggling to speak. The smile was gone. The doctors watched the show in horror. "What is this?", one of them gasped. "Someone has to stop that!", the other one shouted. "Send a message! Now!", the third one ordered to the first. Jack stared at the screen, having goosebumps all over his body. This had been his last broadcast before they had brought him here. This was his old, innocent self. "Stop taking Joy!", his old self shouted. "The food has run out! We're starving! You have to stop taking your Joy! We've come to the end of our time! We've come to the end of our time!" The doctors ran around the room in panic, trying to figure out who to message first and yelling commands through the speakers. Then something very big detonated with an earshattering noise and made the room shake. The doctors stumbled, yelled, fell onto each other, others ran in, some ran out, glass tubes fell on the floor or the delicate machines and spilled their insides, it was pure chaos.

Jack laughed. He laughed out all his pain, his suffering, his misery that he had bottled-up in all those years. It felt so releaving to see their panic, to see how his own doing caused this. Also, it was very funny to watch. He hadn't had so much fun in years. Another glass tube was knocked over by a Doctor and it's liquid ran over a console, causing a loudly hissing short cirquit. Seconds later, Jack's cell door opened. Nobody noticed. Jack walked out and enjoyed his tour through a building full of his enemies' despair.  He noticed it wasn't Haworth Labs and he liked to think that something even worse had happened there so they couldn't bring him to his old cell. What a shame though. He would've liked to pay Verloc a visit. But he also knew that the game was over.

Stepping outside, he found the Parade Disctric in a horrible state. His own broadcast had stopped playing, but the Wellies nevertheless had obeyed their good old Uncle Jack once more. He sighed deeply, looking around with a smile. He was at peace.

#we happy few #whf #wehappyfew #nick lightbearer #nicklightbearer #nickxarthur #arthur hastings we happy few #whfarthur #whfarthurhastings #whf arthur #whf nick #foggy jack #whffoggyjack #whf foggy jack #uncle jack #whfunclejack #whf uncle jack #jack worthing #jackworthing #fanfiction

[queenlokibeth]

I wanted to mention a couple of things about mental health that I think are important.

I'm doing relatively well at the moment. I've managed to go to bed before 2am most days, usually at midnight, and I've gotten 6-7 hours of sleep every night. I've eaten at least 2 full proper meals at reasonable times every day. I haven't turned in any homework late. I have to consciously fight off executive dysfunction but I do manage to win. I'm doing relatively well, which is how I notice just how badly I was doing just a month and a half ago.

What I want to say is that, when you're going through a rough mental health patch (especially if that patch is like a year or more) you might be aware that "sure, yeah, I'm not doing well" but it can also sort of feel like that's just... the way it is.

In December I consciously knew that I was having an awful time, quite probably the deepest hole in terms of mental health in my life, but I had also already been living like that for almost a year, and I transitioned into this hole more or less slowly. So last December I knew that I wasn't feeling or behaving the way that I did a year before that, but it wasn't a drastic change, I eased into that pit. Think about that metaphor about dropping a frog into boiling water and it will jump out, but slowly boil it and it won't notice and die.

I was conscious about the big things: for some reason I physically couldn't get myself to start tasks. I was distracted all the time. My sleeping schedule was something like 4am-10am when I wasn't pulling an all-nighter. I was showering once a week, did laundry every 6 weeks, and lost a lot of weight. I didn't want to do anything and I had no will to go outside. I wanted to read a book but not out of real pursuit of fun, but because I felt like I desperstely needed to catch a break and force myself to do something nice for myself. What I was obviously not conscious of was what was causing all of this.

Being in a pit of terrible mental health feels somehow even worse when you are fully aware that you're completely unhealthy, and you can pinpoint all the things that aren't working right, and you try to do all the correct things to "go back to normal", but you can't, and after a year you don't really remembers what your normal feelings or reactions to things were. In this awful state I was trying to manifest a version of myself who got her shit together and showered regularly and turned homework in on time and did laundry without it taking the same effort as hiking up a mountain, but this version of myself still had the same mental state, numbness, and mental fog, since that's all I knew at the time and I couldn't remember or understand that that's not my default state as a human being. And under that cloud of malfunctioning mental connections and chemicals I was NEVER going to manage to start functioning like a healthy person again.

Why am I pointing out all of this? Because it can be hard to realise how different things can be when you start getting healthier. There are factors of my personality that I hadn't even identified as altered in December.

I'm noticing this now because I did somehow transitioned into recovering extremely quickly. While it took me a few months to fall into a shit state of mental health, and then stayed there for like a year, now in about 3 weeks to a month I flipped my life around and everything is so much... brighter.

I don't mean for this to sound like an ad a la "you can, too, flip your life around!" But as reassurance that getting better is an option, and even a "quick" one, but obviously not without help, and not without PHYSICAL aspecrs. During that month I spent time in warmer weather, seeing sun semi regularly (I had not been outside for longer than 15 minutes at a time every few days in extremely cloudy weather for a few months at that point), I didn't have school so I didn't have to stress about a destroying amount of deadlines, I "recovered" sleep (the first day I slept for 14 hours, then 10 for a few days, and then dropped to 8 consistently), I ate healthy and hearty food, and I had conversations daily with my parents, after having been completely alone for about 7 months of not talking to anyone. During the first 2 weeks I still felt like a mess, the third week was better, and by the end of the month I felt vaguely functional.

By now I'm in no way fully better but Everything Is So Different. Now I'm realising and coming back to the way I always used to behave and feel about things. I find real joy in things and I hadn't even noticed that for a year I had NOT felt joy about ANYTHING I was merely using things to cope! And I hadn't noticed because I could no longer remember that a different feeling beyond "neutral" existed!

I'm excited about going outside now even if it's so so cold, I realised the other day that I needed something from the store and I just... put on my coat and went to the door? And i surprised myself mid step that it was just... that easy. I wanted to go somewhere and I could just... go. I didn't have to psych myself up for 3 days and then end up delaying my departure by 2 hours because that's how long it took me to find the will to put my shoes on.

Anyways I saw a candle and it was only $2 and it smelled really good and I just bought it because I deserve things that make me happy and then I bought some cinnamon flavoured coffee because I WANTED to try it and I also bought this coffee creamer that I saw because suddenly it was easy to just reach into the grocery store fridge and pull it out instead of planning it a week in advance and then overthinking it because do I really need it do I have space in the fridge am I going to finish it or will it expire first only to get overwhelmed and leave the store without it only to immediately regret it and get sad about not getting it once I arrived back to my room. I enjoy drinking my coffee now, I'm not just doing it to stay awake. I can actually get out of bed at the right time even if I'm still a bit tired because the sun is coming up and it looks pretty outside. It snowed yesterday and everyone was out at night playing with it and a stray snowball reached me while I was on my way to get dinner. This poor guy that I'd never seen apologised profusely and it was so funny! There was something about everyone in masks and standing 6 feet apart taking advantage of snowball fights as a way to interact with each other that felt straight out of a Hallmark movie.

Bottomline: at your worst there isn't anything that looks tangibly better, but there is, and you start to realise it afterwards. While you should definitely go to therapy if you can/need to, and that meds can be necessary, there is so much that you can start slowly fixing (with a lot of effort, I know) that will seriously, seeiously help. I know that it might sound like bullshit or like an oversimplification, but it's true and it's stuff that you'll never truly believe will work until you're doing better and you're like "oh shit damn".

Please sleep. Please sleep at night time and have a semi regular sleeping schedule. I know that it sounds like it won't be enough (and true, by itself it probably won't heal you completely but it will sure help a lot). I would always "understand" that sleep was important and "yes mom i know that I need to sleep better" but I never interiorised how DRAMATICALLY sleep affects your entire life. Regular, good, nighttime sleep helps regulate all the hormones and chemicals that we need. If your fucked up sleeping schedule shut down production of serotonin, congratulations now you have all the awful symptoms that come along with lacking an essential component of your functioning. And I know that it's often a terrible vicious cycle of not being able to sleep properly or procrastinating sleep or being unable to just go to bed causing mental health problems which continue to prevent you from being able to fix youe sleep pattern. Please take it from me, someone who a month ago felt like she'd genuinely never be able to function semi properly again, that forcing yourself to fix your sleep is a HUGE MEGA STEP towards fully recovering. I know it now because I can see the contrast, but a month ago I didn't understand it because I was like "well yeah I need to sleep better but what's the point I'm fine it won't change much" yeah well my brain is an asshole and I was not in fact fine but rather completely empty inside and just going the fuck to sleep semi regularly has made me feel like a real person instead of a weird cryptid for the first time in months. Just go the fuck to sleep, PLEASE.

#long post #im sorry i had to share all of this i know it's long #im just genuinely so shocked by how fully different i feel now in a way i nevee ever anticipated #mine #gpoy

[arsmara]

Captive Prince model AU

-

Damen flinched at the loudness of his steps. He slowed his paced a little bit but he knew it couldn’t really be helped since this particular corridor in all its majestic arches and tinted windows seemed to be as deserted as the previous one he came through.

Damen didn’t know if this precise quietness in the whole campus was a constant state of the University of Vere or if it was merely a consequence of everyone already being gone to save the seats for the tournament that was about to take place in about an hour. He didn’t mind the silence, to be honest. The building was quite the sight to see, so being on your own and lost was not really an issue as much as a risk of finding yourself overwhelmed in its extravagance and detail with the turn of every corner.

The only problem was he couldn’t remember the way to the locker room and there was no soul around to ask.

He had been walking for the better part of the last hour and the daylight had already dimmed to a bright orange hue all around him.

Damen could vaguely recall Nikandros telling him to go across the first courtyard and past the fountain (“Wait, an actual fountain?” “Yes, Damen, a fountain with colored fishes. Pay attention”) and take the north corridor, so he had walked with no luck through not less than four courtyards with different sets of ostentatious gardens and although there were definitely people there frolicking about in the private sections, that was the kind of scene he’d dared not interrupt. Not even in desperate need for indications, as he was.

Veretians, he thought when a barely concealed giggle followed by a moany ‘ow’ rose from behind a neatly trimmed flowery bush. For all the fuss on nudity, Veretians were really a case in study on disregard for privacy when dealing with their perversions.

When finally spotting the exuberant fountain (hidden between a thick clump of blue hydrangeas) Damen found himself before two doors that he assumed divided men and women’s room. With a relieved sigh and after readjusting the heavy bag on his shoulder he opened the door in the left.

He suddenly found himself in a very illuminated space with tall windows that reached the ceiling in the entirety of the wall across from the door. The atmosphere was warm and thick with the smell of something chemical in nature, acidic and strong, that Damen could not identify but weirdly reminded him of the lemony cleaning products to scrub bathroom floors. Looking around he saw that there were no chairs or benches but a wide circle of easels each with a wooden stool placed behind.

And then, inevitably, his attention was dragged to the very center of this arrangement. There was a pale and luminous effigy of some sort, human sized and with white feathered wings, sitting on a makeshift dais right in front of him.

‘Alright, this is…definitely…not the locker room.’

Damen blinked into the scene so as to command the view to rearrange into something logical. A pale fraction of skin was visible in between feathers and creases of white fabric that wrapped around its slender body and pooled around it on the dais. Even partially covered by the wings one could see the strands of fair blond hair in the nape of a very human head.

Of all the things he would have expected to find when crossing a doorway in a foreign building in a foreign land, this was the farthest from it.

Then the creature turned his head slightly to the side and Damen saw that it was, actually, a man. A beautiful blonde half-naked winged man sitting in a pose that seemed elegant and tiresome at the same time. A halo of sunlight burned through the edges of his head and feathers making it seem as he had a glow coming from within. A true celestial vision right out of an akielon myth.  

Or one of his weirdest sexual fantasies.

“You’re letting the draft in.” The blonde spoke without lifting his eyes from the phone in his hand and with a hint of annoyance in his voice of someone who has repeated this too many times before.

Damen was actually letting the draft in, though. He had been holding the door handle this whole time frozen in the entrance for the whole minutes that it took him to make sense of the scene. Damen rushed to shut the door and the loud sound echoed in the vastness of the room. He soon realized that he should have stepped outside before doing so but he quickly brushed the thought away. It was too late for that.

“Sorry.” said Damen in veretian. He had been in Vere for the whole day and the language came naturally to him at this point. “I-- got lost.”

The other man turned to properly look at him for the first time. He had striking blue eyes that scanned him from head to toe only to stop at his chest. Damen felt like he might have been doing something to his heart because it skipped a beat in the process. He wondered how all of this could be so unusual but so enticing at the same time.

“I’m afraid you are way off route, sweetheart.”

Damen looked down to realize that the focus of his attention was at the insignia on his jersey.

He offered a slight smile “I know; I came to represent my university in the sport summit.”

“Did you now.”

“Yes, I’m looking for the locker room.”

The blonde stared at him for some more seconds before turning back to his phone “Next door.”

“Thank you,” it seemed like the polite thing to say instead of ‘what the fuck are you supposed to be’ as he so fervently wished to ask.

Who was Damen after all, to question veretian worshipping practices. Or whatever this was.

“Do you need instructions to leave the room too?”

With a start Damen saw that the blonde was again staring sideways at him with those grave blue eyes edged in displeasure at his presence. “I – thanks. I know my way out.”

“¿Do I have to escort you out then?”

In spite of the provocation, he felt the corner of his mouth rise. “I would very much like that, but I’m afraid your wings might not make it through the door.” He saw the slight shift in the blonde’s gaze and Damen savored the pinch of satisfaction to notice he did not expect an actual response, “they’re quite large.”

The man tilted his head like a cat assessing a confusing behavior in his prey.

“But you did make it through.”

Damen couldn’t help but laugh at that. The veretian was spikey, he wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t expecting any of this, really.

“Feeling better now that you took that off your chest?” said Damen drunk in the thrill of the rare moment. He knew that his size could be striking outside of Akielos. It was even in Akielos at times.

A smirk appeared in that pale face and he felt a shiver run down his spine, “It’s always a pleasure to welcome our rival brothers from Akielos,” the blonde continued, “especially since you all always seem to be on edge in matters of patriotic honor to my outmost enjoyment.”

Veretians and Akielons weren’t enemies and they hadn’t been for centuries, but there was always a natural rivalry that rose whenever the nations crossed each other paths in any scale. Never going beyond teasing but often shifting into subtle statements of one’s superiority over the other in matters of politics, sports and arts. Anatomy was also a favorite topic, apparently.

This seemed like the usual friendly banter, although it was common knowledge that Veretians seemed to enjoy disguising their true intentions under flourish and sweet voices.

Some poisons are inconspicuous, he reminded himself.

“I’d say you don’t know enough Akielons to back your remarks” said Damen.

After a moment the blonde spoke. “You’d be right.”

He felt, strangely, slightly pleased by this notion.  

“Although you could still prove me right” The blonde continued with a defiance set in his stare “I haven’t even yet pointed out your barbaric tradition of stripping naked to fight on the dirt like animals trying to assert dominance.” he then faked a surprised look “Oh, is that what you came to do?”

“Wrestling, yes.” Damen felt his grin widen in wit. “And let’s not pretend that you had the cultural equivalent back then, only it ended in rape.”

The blonde glared at him “Someone has done his homework I see.”

“Someone is a political science major.” And had studied veretian language and culture for three semesters.

“Really? I was just wondering what your major was. That wasn’t my first option though.”

“What was it?”

“Barbarian.”

The barbed words of the veretian did nothing but encourage him to fight back, to keep the mood weird and spicy and see where it would take them. He held his tongue, however, as he now was noticing what he had overlooked in his initial shock. In a quick glimpse he noticed the canvases on the easels. There were splotches of colors starting to become shapes and some strokes giving volume to a close impression of the winged figure. Many shades of white, yellow and red. Blue for the sky behind, peeking in the background.

And for his eyes.

Ah. Everything was finally falling into place.

He had approached the easels in a seemingly unconscious impulse to study the paintings better, and when he raised his eyes he saw the man had followed his movement with a quiet tension locked in his jaw and frown. Damen felt a rush of regret at his own boldness. He should have asked before getting closer when they were alone in a room and he was still a stranger. He cleared his throat to casually ease back into conversation.

“So, are you a model?”

A pale eyebrow raised in his direction. “Do you think I’d wear wings and an open dress for personal choice?”

“Well,” Damen openly studied the attire, earning a scorn of the guy himself in return, “that is actually a chiton, a traditional Akielon attire,” he smiled as he stepped a little closer, “and I wouldn’t dare judge you on choosing to wear it.”

“Is it?” His lips curved in a cold smirk, he seemed to be holding an insult somewhere in there.

“Yes.” Damen shrugged, and then his mouth quirked helplessly. “It suits you.”

The blonde rolled his eyes. “Spare me the compliments, I’m not able to kick your ass from this position.”

Damen felt his smile widen. “Even if you could move, you probably couldn’t beat me,” and added “I’m really good at wrestling.”

The model huffed a humorless laugh.

“I guess we’ll never know.”

‘I guess you could know if you wanted to’ Damen didn’t say. He wasn’t supposed to flirt with Veretians, he knew. He almost could hear Nikandros scolding him. And Kastor. And his father…

A sudden realization caught his eye as he looked around one more time. “Why would there be paintings and model but no artists present?”

“We're on a 20-minute break,” the model said, “but technically there is an artist present now,” he turned his blue gaze back to him. "I also attend this class.”

"Oh? And how do you manage to paint yourself while modelling at the same time?"

He stopped himself from answering right away, visibly hesitating as he likely realized that he was interacting with a stranger on private matters.

"We," he finally pointed at the easels around him "all have to model for this class." A frustrated look. "It’s my turn today.” He let his displeasure show in every word.

A startling sound erupted from the door behind him. Someone was trying to push it open quite unsuccessfully. Damen arched an eyebrow to the other man in the room and he just gave a look that seemed to say do as you please and went back to scroll through his phone. ‘alright’ thought Damen as he went to open the door and a dark haired man entered the room with two steamy paper cups in his hands and walked past Damen to sit on one of the stools beside the model.

The winged man groaned a protest. “Lazar, could you please not let the door open while I’m in this state of nudity?”

“Vannes is coming behind me,” said the man as he handed him one of the cups and with a mischievous grin and a bow added, “Your highness.”

“Thank you,” said the blonde without acknowledging the mocking title. “Vannes, close the door.”

Damen turn around and saw a woman standing in the doorway staring intensely at him to then stop at the blonde man.

“My my, Laurent has a visitor,” she declared with a hint of provocation in her charming tone.

Laurent.

Damen couldn’t stop the rush of triumphant satisfaction from showing in his face at this new piece of information, but he could feel the curious gaze of the newcomers piercing him still, so he smiled and said, “I was just passing to admire Veretian aesthetics.”

“I see. Did you find something pleasing to the eye?” she asked, ignoring the poorly concealed scowl in her direction.

“He was just entertaining me while you left me to rot here.” intervened Laurent in a calmed tone.

“Quit being a bitter old man, you’re gonna wrinkle” said Lazar.

“Grampa Laurent” added the woman sipping from her own cup.

“Do you realize” retorted Laurent “that I have the power to ruin your work just by slightly shifting my leg to the side” he smirked at the pure horror that showed in both their faces. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Damen very deliberately did not entertained the thought of his legs parting underneath the cloth.

“You’re really playing your cast iron bitch card today.” Said Lazar with a cold grin.

“What I’m doing,” Laurent retorted, “is merely trying to protect my remaining dignity.”

“I say you must be hallucinating as to believe you still have some dignity left.”

“I say that’s probably because I’ve inhaled all the turpentine in the air.”

“It is quite heavy to breath in here.” Damen noticed.

“Oh no, that’s just the sexual tension in the room.” Lazar said in a low voice to Damen.

Laurent pretended not to hear.

“Is your friend gonna join us the rest of the session?” asked the woman, eyeing at Damen’s full body while producing a case from her bag where she seemingly kept her brushes.

“He was leaving for the sport summit to celebrate the new alliance between us and the university of Akielos.” He stopped talking just to add. “And he’s not my friend.”

“Really?” asked Vannes with renewed interest. “Tell me, are there Akielon women among your team?”

“A few, yeah. Although it’s mostly men.”

Vannes and Lazar exchanged a look.

“Are you really considering dropping the session to go check on some sweaty muscles.” Asked Laurent.

“Laurent,” Lazar said “It’s Akielon sweaty muscles. In the nude.”

Damen blinked in amusement at that. “We don’t really compete in the nude anymore, you know.” At least not since a couple centuries ago.

“Anyway” added Vannes, “consider this a better alternative to an anatomy class.”

“We’re doing it in the name of art and beauty.” Said Lazar already heading to the door. “Tell Berenger we’re failing the class for a good cause.”

“I’m not telling him anything on your behalf.”

Damen saw them leave and then they were alone in the room again.

They stared for an awkward instant until Laurent broke the silence, “So?” Why are you still here, he didn’t have to articulate.

The truth was, Damen didn’t even know why he hadn’t left yet.

He wasn’t going to tell him that, of course.

“It seems you’re to remain here for a while longer.”

“Well, it seems like you are doing exactly the same thing still.”

Damen looked at his position on the dais. “You are not allowed to move at all?”

“Nothing escapes you, does it.”

“Do you need anything?” asked Damen. “Before I go, I mean.”

Laurent closed his mouth suddenly taken aback by the offer, like kindness was the last thing he would expect from Damen. He narrowed his eyes as trying to read into his real intentions.

Damen shrugged. “Fine.”

“Wait.”

Damen froze in place having already turned away. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch in an attempted smile but he knew better than to aggravate Laurent any more. Judging by all the words exchanged today, he seemed to be on edge by his situation.

He heard Laurent give a long-suffering sigh. “Would you plug my phone?” He held his phone up as to illustrate the request.

Damen was beaming to comply but he held back just enough to look as pleased as he felt but not as much as to rush into his proximity. He reached for the phone and the accidental brush of fingertips with each other brought a sudden spike in his heartbeat.

“Where’s the charger?” he asked.

Laurent pointed at one of the bags hanging on the nearest wall. “Outer pocket on the left side.”

Damen plugged his phone and when he did, the screen lighted up for a short moment. The picture displayed was a painting of a very green landscape with a brown horse looming in the background. The brush strokes where rough and noticeable in certain areas but it held a lot of detail in others. It was eerie and delicate and probably it was Laurent’s work. It felt very intimate to see it, it probably was rude to do so. Damen looked away.

Laurent cleared his throat.

“Thank you.”

Damen raised both eyebrows at him. “What, are you so humbled by me plugging your phone that you decide to yield now?”

Laurent gave a soft chuckle and Damen thought he would never recover from the ecstasy of it.

“I think we are both running out of time to continue our tête-à-tête.” Laurent smile seemed honest now.

Damen conceded with a nod.

“I should really go now. My team can’t hold up without me” And Nikandros most likely must be wishing a slow painful death upon him right now.

“Aren’t you confident.”

“I know it.”

“So you think you’ll do well?” Laurent added with a hint of amusement.

Damen let his determination show in his expression. After all, he knew the extent of his capabilities.

“I intend to win.” Todays was only a friendly match, the real competition came on Thursday, but Damen meant it all the same. He always aimed for victory.

Laurent’s gaze fell on him. “That is,” he said with a defying undertone “if you ever leave.”

Damen smiled “Goodbye, Laurent.” He made the word roll in his tongue with a touch of heavy accent that made the blonde blush slightly, or so he wanted to believe.

He made his way out without looking back, feeling a warm hint of euphoria in his chest that he blamed on the anticipation of the tournament instead of the brief encounter with the amusing scene in the art studio. The darkness outside the bright room suddenly felt too unappealing compared to the scrutiny of the pair of blue eyes left behind.

It almost made him forget once again where he was supposed to be right now.

This was already becoming ridiculous.

-

Laurent stretched his limbs to let the blood reach every corner of his aching body. Curse Lazar for suggesting the costume.

Of course, if he hadn’t wear anything he could have taken a break with the rest of them, and he blatantly refused to pose nude. But such an attire required not only to not cover himself for warmness sake in between sessions (blame the blasted feathers and their proneness to fall away), it also made it impossible to move at all, for if a dressed model broke the pose all the creases and exact placement of the folds could never be replicated again and the image would be compromised for the artists. It was, utterly, a deadly trap.

At least he got to keep his underwear on. Small victories, he thought.

The numbness of his legs after spending the last two and half hours sitting in the same position had luckily dimmed away as he discarded the wings and finally made his way to the locker room to get dressed.

It was dark outside and the campus was quiet now that the tournament had finished.

He wondered if the Akielon won. Then he stopped himself from thinking in the Akielon.

Laurent walked to his locker and opened it. He considered taking a shower for a moment, but it was late enough to risk losing the train. He could relax later, at home.

He let the fabric fall around him –the chiton, he thought with a bitter grin –, and shivered in the cold air on his skin. He then proceeded to look for his clothes inside.

A rush of fast paced steps cut through the silence and the sound of someone storming into the locker room set his senses on alert, tension locking into his limbs, ready to act.

Laurent waited for a second, assessing the possibilities, before he peaked from behind the locker row to see who it was.

“Oh” a familiar voice. “Hi, again.”

Of course it was him. Laurent rolled his eyes at his own bad luck.

He noticed Laurent standing in just his underwear and quickly averted his gaze with a sudden blush darkening his cheeks.

“Sorry, I um…” he then pointed forward and disappeared through the adjacent locker row.

“You seem to really be angling for eloquence, I see.”

He heard the man snort softly in reply. Laurent was silently grateful for his tact to not step into Laurent’s space when he was, impossibly, in a more exposed state of dressing that the previous one they'd encountered each other.

Or where he had encountered Laurent, more precisely.

“I came to retrieve something; I’ll be leaving right away.”

Laurent ignored him to continue working himself into his clothes. It felt amazing to have pants on after so many hours of just the nothing. He was focused in getting inside his oversized grey jumper that had been Auguste’s before, when he heard the other man clear his throat as looking for an opening in conversation.

"Yes?"

“Are you heading home?”

“I am.”

“Alone?”

Laurent stopped in his track. He went round the lockers to face the Akielon properly.

“Why?”

The man frowned slightly at this, “It’s late.”

“The train station is nearby.” Laurent shrugged.

The Akielon smiled reassuringly and showed a pair of car keys, “I had left my keys on top of the lockers.” He explained, and then, “I can take you.”

Laurent stared intently at him. He was positive the man, either moved by his noble Akielon code of honor or just his own kindness held no ill intentions beyond the offering. He showed an openness that was hard to ignore once you managed to look past all of that body (and honestly, there was a lot of it). That didn’t meant Laurent had to easily go with it.

“I’m perfectly capable of going on my own.”

“I don’t doubt it. But I didn’t expect to find you again here and now I did, I won’t be able to rest easy knowing that I left you to go on your own at the risk of getting mugged or kidnapped.”

Laurent fought down a chuckle.

“Have you ever listened to yourself talk? I don’t know you, you could be a terrible driver and doom me to a very tragic accidental death or you could be a criminal, for all I know, luring me into your car to get your way with me.”

Something passed over the Akielon’s face then. For all his determination and air of leadership displayed before he now looked truly defeated by the mere thought of him hurting Laurent. Or maybe the thought of Laurent distrusting him.

“I would never touch you without your consent.”

Laurent deliberately brushed away the thought of the possible scenario in which he actually consented.

“Yes well, that isn’t happening tonight or ever.” Laurent grabbed his bag to walk out. It was late alright. “It’s not personal, it’s just a matter of common sense. I don’t even know your name.”

The Akielon’s eyes widened a fraction at this notion. Of course he had not realized.

“I’m Damianos,” he then added with a smile, “but my friends call me Damen.”

“Damianos” he tilted his head in acknowledgement. Not that it would matter, he still wasn’t going to go with him and this would likely be the last he’d see of Laurent.

He let the moment stretch as he checked on the time in his wrist watch. And when he turned for the door Damen interrupted once again his attempt to escape the overwhelming presence of him.

“What if,” he spoke slowly as to not scare Laurent any further. Not that Laurent was actually scared of him in the first place, “You drive us there.”

Laurent blinked into the picture of Damen purposely handling the keys to him in an act of foolish misplaced trust.

He truly would get himself killed at some point in his life.

“And you can hold on to my wallet and passport the whole time.”

Laurent gazed back into the Akielons honest expression. He didn’t know if the sudden interest he felt was towards the idea of him openly putting so much trust in Laurent or just the fact that he seemed to have the whole control of the situation; he knew that if he just told him to fuck off he’d leave him alone and yet –

He was actually starting to see the appeal in getting home earlier than expected.

-

#okay #this has been sitting in my wip folder for ages #i dont like it and i dont know how to continue it or if i ever will commit enough for it #but here it is #and also a sketch of the scene because i'm weak #i went to art school for 5 years btw #this is roughly based on my experience #I woke up feeling like giving something to the capri fandom #sorry not sorry #maybe a little sorry #after the bang ill finish the drawing for sure #captive prince #capri #AU #art model au #my writing #my art #laurent #damen #lamen #drabble #fanart #lmao laurent dressed as an angel i can't

[lemonadelyric]

ALL.THE QUESTIONS FOR THAT ASK MEME

1. What do you identify as and what are your pronouns? I use he/him pronouns, please! And I have a lot of identities so uh, be warned. I'm nonbinary! Not really sure on gender, or any specifics. I'm pretty fluid between andro/masc/fem so??? It's a big Question Mark. I'm polyamorous! I'm in a handful of relationships but they're all important to me. I'm also pretty open about loving and appreciating my friends too! I'm pansexual! I'm also panromantic and nebularomantic! I know people debate on pansexual/polysexual/bisexual all the time, and honestly I just go with pan cause I like the flag colors xD But also, it's basically me saying I feel attraction not based on gender/presentation! 2. How did you discover your sexuality, tell your story? Oh oof okay so. I noticed it since I was YOUNG. I always thought girls were cute?? I'm AFAB, for the record. But I always figured that was something everyone was into. Then some people were talking about lesbians and such, and I was like "Well yeah, I'd kiss a girl" SO YOU CAN IMAGINE HOW WELL THAT WENT OVER. People asked me if I was gay, and I didn't think I was? I liked boys too! Wasn't until probably high school that I finally settled on "Yeah, I'm bi." and then discovered the whole gender spectrum and being nonbinary and so much just fell into place 3. Have you experienced being misgendered? What happened and how did you overcome it? So I present pretty andro, I think! I don't try to fit a masc/fem scale but like, in person I don't really make a big deal out of it. There was a stretch of time where I went by she/her still, even as a nonbinary. But I switched to he/him about a year ago and it's just GOOD for me. Well.... Someone I really don't like joined the chat where I first decided to go by he/him. They joined, and they bitched to the mods about not liking me, but they called me "she/her" EVEN WITH he/him being in my intro. The mods were friends of mine and corrected them and were DEFINITELY on edge and asked me if I ever went by she/her or if they were purposefully misgendering me. 4. Who was the first person you told, how did they react? I'm pretty sure it was my boyfriend, Eric! They didn't give a shit HAHA, and have been all respectful and everything. 5. Describe what it was like coming out, what did you feel? So I don't actually remember when I told them? But it wasn't a big deal actually. 6. If you’re out, how did your parents/guardians/friends react? Oof so, I don't think I ever straight up told my mom. But I don't really care what she thinks anyways LOL I did have to tell Eric's parents, though! When we were poly and dating our qpp Reina. (Didn't want to explain those details and shit to them). But telling them that meant telling them I'm gay haha. They totally didn't care and have been so welcoming and accepting, i love them so much ;;w;; 7. What is one question you hate people asking about your sexuality? "Why do you need to be polyamorous do you not love your partners does that just mean you want to sleep around you're just using it as an excuse to cheat on your partners" All said from people who don't know shit about being poly. 8. Describe the style of clothing that you most often wear. Oh god this is so boring. I just wear jeans and tshirts xD Nothing special or SUPER GAY. 9. Who are your favourite lgbt+ ships? ROSE/PEARL FROM STEVEN UNIVERSE I don't consume a lot of lgbt media apparently, huh. 10. What does makeup mean to you? Do you wear any? Sometimes! Usually no, though. I like eyeliner most of the time. 11. Do you experience dysphoria? If so, how does that affect you? YES. So with my chest it's more frequent, I also just don't like being as fat as I am. SO that's half my body problems. Bottom stuff is less frequent but usually during That Time Of The Month (Which, I actually haven't had for YEARS, but I started getting again recently, I hate it.) 12. What is the stupidest thing you’ve heard said about the lgbt+ community? "Oh yeah I'm inclusive of ace/aro people in the LGBT community!! You have a chemical imbalance in your brain which makes you just like us!!!" Like.. what the fuck. 13. What’s your favourite thing about the lgbt+ community? I love how we're all THERE for each other! You join a chat, go "Hey I'm gay" and we're like "GAY??? GAY???? GAY???? GAY????" we're like dogs LMAO 14. What’s your least favourite thing about the lgbt+ community? Sick of transmeds and terfs and ace/aro exclusionists and shit, fuck off my blog. Also??? Can we stop making jokes about MOGAI identities and shit??? "Lmao this gender is based on being a special snowflake" cool shut up, let people live damn, it's not that hard to just respect people. 15. Have you ever been to your cities pride event? Why or why not? Nope :c Everywhere I've lived either 1. there wasn't any close to me/I wasn't out, or 2. ITS TOO DANGEROUS TO GO, or 3. I don't have a car lmao. 16. Who is your favourite lgbt+ Icon/Advocate/Celebrity? Lil Nas X, hands down. He's a great dude. 17. Have you been in a relationship and how did you meet? I'm in three right now!! So the first is Eric, we met on an online rp chat website thingy! Second is Chander, we met through a mutual friend and we knew each other like a year then within the span of like two months we started dating and now we live together, 2.5 years later xD Third is Jay! I met him through a kin Discord, we've been friends over a year but it took a few months before we started dating! 18. What is your favourite lgbt+ book? Y'know I don't think I've ever read one. Uhhh... I mean the Black Dagger Brotherhood has a gay couple??? Does that count??? xD 19. Have you ever faced discrimination? What happened? Slightly! Most of mine is about being polyamorous. I have people tell me "That's not enough to be lgbt" paying 0 attention to me also being nonbinary and pansexual. Also had people tell me I'm not trans enough to be nonbinary because I don't want to transition. 20. Your Favorite lgbt+ movie or show? One Day At A Time? That's about the only one I can think of LOL 21. Who are some of your favourite lgbt+ bloggers? Uuhhh I don't really follow bloggers. 22. Which lgbt+ slur do you want to reclaim? QUEER and gay itself. People act like "gay" was never used against the lgbt community like, bitch, if Hillary fuckin' Duff has to tell some stupid teens in a PSA to not use "gay" like that, then I'm reclaiming it, shut up. 23. Have you ever gone to a gay bar, or a drag show, how was it? Nope and nope. 24. How do you self-identify your gender, and what does that mean to you? I'm nonbinary! I use he/him pronouns and it pretty much just means I don't wanna be a boy or a girl. I don't mind being called like "You're a good guy" or whatever. 25. Are you interested in having children? Why or why not? Not really? I'm very selfish and self-centered, I don't think I could handle having a child xD 26. What identity advice would you give your younger self? "You don't have to figure this all out right now! You have time! Also, make friends with gay people. They're not some closed community where if you join and you're wrong they abandon you." 27. What do you think of gender roles in relationships? Eh, nah. Like I'm a big "Yeah sure I'll do laundry and dishes" or whatever. But I'd rather share responsibilities! 28. Anything else you want to share about your experience with gender? I've been questioning and trying to identify my gender a lot more and get more specific, but I'm in no rush. 29. What is something you wish people know about being lgbt+? We're just people, man. That's it. That's all there it to it. You don't have to have the same feelings as us, but just give us the right to love and marry who we want, or not do that, or have our relationships look however we want. 30. Why are proud to be lgbt+? I'm proud to be LGBT because it means I'm in a community of people who are accepting and caring. It's like a family wherever you go.

Thank you for the asks <3

#anxietylich

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

The American Initiative

Part Thirteen

Summary: Grace Cleveland and Eleanor Baker both thought their lives were over, until they became part of something much bigger – the Avengers. Pairing(s): Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC Word Count: 1776 Blanket Warnings: Death, mentioned a couple of different ways, but not detailed; canon divergence; more based on Marvel movies. In the infamous word of Steve Rogers, “Language.”

Masterlist Wanna be tagged?

Gracie.

Her eyes shot open, and her body snapped into a sitting position. After her first good night sleeping in two weeks, it took her a moment to orient herself in that guest room at Tony’s place.

Swallowing hard and blinking a few times, she reminded herself that Joel was far away. She was safe.

“It’s all in my head,” she whispered to herself, throwing the covers back and reaching for a hair tie to throw her hair up off her face and neck.

Even after the walk to the kitchen and a first sip of coffee, Joel’s voice echoed in her ear as though he had been right beside her. Shaking it off, Grace took her coffee and headed for the lab. Tony was already there, and she could feel the tension radiating from him.

“What happened?”

Tony looked at her, and Grace knew that he was contemplating how much to tell her. He hemmed and hawed long enough, Grace threatened to go wake Ellie to read Tony’s mind if he didn’t just come out and say it.

Tony stood from the counter he had been leaning on, sliding a screen from the handheld device to the larger screen in front of them. Grace set down her coffee cup and studied the numbers and information in front of her.

“This is Jarvis’s report on the two serums that you obtained from Joel’s lab,” Tony explained. “Every chemical broken down, how they’re paired, and the root of the serum.”

Grace took in the information as it scrolled, until something caught her attention. “DNA? He sourced the serum from DNA?”

Tony considered her carefully. “His lab is more advanced than we thought. Now knowing what we know, I’m not even sure that the lab you saw is his actual lab.”

Grace’s head tilted. “Whose DNA is he using? Steve’s?”

She had never seen Tony so hesitant in her life. “When you entered the program, Gracie, S.H.I.E.L.D kept samples of your DNA throughout the enhancement process -- both you and Ellie. They wanted to know how the serums were affecting you at as basal a level as possible, especially after Joel’s withdrawal symptoms. It was for study purposes --”

“Whose DNA is it, Tony?” Grace demanded, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “You can tell me, or I can ask Jarvis. You want to make him choose between us?”

“Yours,” Tony answered. “It seems he’s extracting the serum from your DNA samples -- which is why it’s taking so many. This is the original serum, not a poor man’s replication, but in very small doses.”

Grace could feel anger and confusion taking over. “How in the hell would he get that?”

For that, Tony had no answer. Grace thought back over every moment with Joel; a face flashed through her memory, and everything came together.

“Make sure Ellie gets back to the facility okay, would you? I don’t have time to wait for her,” Grace said, making a quick exit back to where she had been staying. She changed quickly, threw her bag over her shoulder, and directed Jarvis to call a car to meet her on the way.

“You’re just going to start walking?” Tony said, grabbing her arm as she reached the front door. “Grace! Stop!”

She turned to him with cold, angry eyes. “No. I started this, and now I’m going to stop it. Call Nick or Clint or whoever and tell them I’m on my way if you have to, but I’m going, Tony.”

He dropped his hold on her and nodded. “Fine. Go. But you’re right, I’m going to call them -- unless you want to tell me what’s going on.”

“Gracie, your car has arrived,” Jarvis announced.

Grace looked at Tony and shook her head. “I’ve gotta go.”

The entire S.H.I.E.L.D staff was on high alert when Grace returned to the facility. Most of the workers stayed out of her way as she stormed in the direction of the medical ward. Nick Fury walked with her, trying to convince her that she needed to stop and tell someone what was happening before she handled things on her own. Before too long, Clint was coming up behind her.

“You’re not going to stop me either. This bitch sold us out, and I will not stand for it,” Grace snapped, continuing on.

Clint reached for her arm, but Grace slipped away from his grip and pulled the gun from her waistband. It was an inch from Clint’s forehead, but he didn’t even blink. Nick held his hands up in surrender.

“Slow down, Cleveland. We’re here to help you. Same team, remember?” Nick said.

“What’s it going to be, Gracie?” Clint asked, not moving but not backing down, either. “You gonna be a team player, or you gonna keep on this path?”

Grace took a deep breath and clicked the safety on her gun, tucking it back into her waistband. “You can follow me in there, if you want, but I’m not stopping right now.”

She turned on her heel and continued on, not caring at all if the men followed her or not. Grace stopped at the doorway of the medical ward, her eyes searching for the target of her angst. When she landed on the particular nurse she was looking for, she charged forward, beelining for the other woman.

In a flurry of action, Grace had one hand at the woman’s neck, another flat on her chest, and took the nurse’s feet right out from under her. Once the other woman was on the floor, Grace set her knee at the nurse’s abdomen.

“Where is he?” Grace demanded.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the nurse said, tears falling down her cheeks. “Please, Agent. I don’t -- I haven’t done anything!”

Grace smacked her hard across the face. “Next time it’s my fist -- tell me, where the fuck he is!”

The nurse’s tears turned into laughter. “You dumb bitch. You think I’m just going to give him up to you? You think that because he slept with you and was so excited that you were coming back, he gives a shit about you? That what you saw was anything remotely close to what Joel has access to?”

“Shut up, twenty questions,” Grace said, pinning down the woman’s shoulders and getting in her face. “You gave me up so betrayal shouldn’t be that hard for you. You can tell me where Joel is, or you can go with them and let them pull it out of you. What’s it going to be?”

The nurse sobered once again. She had seen, firsthand, what happened when S.H.I.E.L.D questioned traitors. Phil Coulson, Nick Fury’s second-in-command, was a man of mercy, but not when it came to someone who betrayed something he believed in as strongly as he did the Avengers initiative.

“He was in your head this morning, right?” the nurse asked; Grace tilted her head. “Yeah. His enhancement, part of it. He can get into your head. If he can be in your head, he can find you. Where were you this morning?”

Grace started to answer, and then she realized -- the other woman was asking where Grace had been to point her in the direction of where Joel was headed. With a closed-fist strike across the nurse’s face, just for good measure, Grace finally stood and explained.

“She’s working with Joel. She’s how he got the DNA samples of me and Ellie that he used to create his serum -- he knew the whole time I was there that I was already enhanced.”

Nick and Clint’s eyes both grew wide; two S.H.I.E.L.D guards moved in to take the nurse into custody. Grace waited for them to leave, then turned to the two men.

“We need the others. Joel’s on his way to Stark Tower, if not already there.”

Clint looked away shaking his head; Nick gave a single nod and went to round up the rest of the team. Grace was breathing heavy when she looked at Clint.

“What’s it going to be? You gonna tell me I’m not ready, or you going to fight this with me?”

“Gracie,” Clint sighed, hands on his hips, “you know I’m going to fight this with you.”

She nodded and allowed herself a moment of weakness; tears welled in her eyes but she kept them on Clint. He reached out to squeeze her hand, giving her a confident nod.

“Come on. You’re gonna be all right. You’re ready for this.”

“Okay. If you think I am, then I know I am.”

Clint chucked her under the chin. “C’mon, Osprey. Let’s go kick some ass.”

A loud crash woke Ellie from the most pleasant sleep she had experienced in several weeks. She frowned as she sat up, yawning hard and trying to make sense of the thoughts in the house. Tony was, of course, familiar, but there was somebody else there she didn’t recognize.

Slowly, she crept from the room, following the sounds of fighting. Her heart was racing and fear had all but taken over every fiber of her being. Still, she moved towards the fight, if for nothing else than to know what was happening.

Tony was in the Iron Man suit, brawling with the largest man Ellie had ever seen. He rivaled Bruce when he was green, in fact. He wore no identifying uniform or suit, but he was certainly a strong match for Tony.

Gasping when Tony took a particularly hard hit, Ellie ran back for her room, immediately calling back to S.H.I.E.L.D for backup.

“We’re on our way,” Grace confirmed before Ellie said anything. “Can you get to the lab the back way? You’ve got a Liberty Force suit there. Tony always keeps a back-up, of every prototype.”

Ellie was huddled against the wall in the guest room, wishing to God that this wasn’t her life. “Grace, I can’t. You don’t know how big he is!”

“It’s Joel, Ellie,” Grace informed. “He doesn’t want you or Tony, he wants me. All right? We have to stop him. I just need you to hold him, to help Tony, until we can get there. A few minutes at best.”

Ellie took a deep breath and promised that she would try. She set her phone to the side; another loud crash stopped her from getting up. Remembering what Steve had said about facing her problems, she willed herself to get up off the floor and make way for the lab to find the prototype.

Tags: @captain-s-rogers​​​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​​ @xtina2191​​​ @shynara51​​​

#marvel #avengers #fanfiction #captain america #hawkeye #mcu #ofc #captain america x ofc #steve x ofc #steve rogers x ofc #hawkeye x ofc #clint x ofc #clint barton x ofc #the american initiative #queue ... assemble

[purplesurveys]

725

Your name? Robyn. Age? Just turned 22. Ugh, I’ve finally reached the point where future ages – other than 30/40/50 etc – won’t be much of a milestone anymore. I can hear Monica Geller tell me, “welcome to the real world, it sucks.” Gender? Identify as female. Ethnic background? I usually just say Filipino to make it easier but technically I’m mostly Tagalog with a bit of Mangyan and Ilokano and I think Bulakeño? in me. What do you like the most about your ethnic background? It’s hard to find anything to be proud of from being Filipino sksksk I like our cuisine I guess? Especially the seafood?

The least? It’s not something I dislike directly about our own background, because what I like the least is the hundreds of years of colonization by four different nations that led to the near-complete wipeout of our native culture and the severe colonial effects that followed. The reason I find it so hard to rack my brain for stuff about our ‘ethnic background’ is because everything about it has already been penetrated by Spanish, English, Japanese, or American influence, even down to how well I can speak English right now. It’s almost impossible to look for something that’s ours. Who is your favorite golf player? I’ve never liked watching golf. Whats your favorite kind of gold? (White, Yellow, Rose, Traditional) Rose gold looks pretty. Would you rather wear turquoise pants or purple? Highkey would not wear either of these but if it came down to it, purple. Would you ever go on a jungle safari? I kind of already did. It was a lot of fun and I would rather keep going to safaris if I wanted to see wild animals as it’s a much lesser evil than zoos. If you saw a UFO what would you do? Hope my fingers are quick enough and immediately take a video. What color is your mailbox? We don’t have one. Mailmen just place it by the handle of our screen door. Are you taller than your Mom? No, I’m the smallest one in the family. Who is your meanest friend? I never really counted Patrice as a friend but she’s been the least nice acquaintance I remember having. Her attitude is actually the reason I hadn’t seen her as a friend, so that said I wouldn’t really be befriending anyone who I thought isn’t very nice. Have you ever thought about suicide? Yeah, well I’m not exactly the most mentally well person durrrr. I don’t think of it as often as I used to, but it’ll cross my mind more or less once a month. Have you ever broken a pinata? I’ve never had that experience before actually. I’ve only seen it in cartoons. Who loves Orange Soda? I don’t like soda, period. Where did you go the last time you used public transportation? I dunno if it counts because the jeep just goes around the campus hahaha but I took a jeep coming from CAL going to CMC, my home college. My dad accidentally drove the car I was gonna use that day so I had to book a Grab (our local Uber; also I can’t do public transpo for long distances hence the private car, heh) going to school, and then the campus jeeps to go from one class to another. If you were to start a band what would you name it? Never hire me to name stuff. Would you rather spend a year in the abyss or outer space? Outer space. It’s where I’ve always wanted to go anyway. I fear for my sanity if I wind up in the abyss. Do you know someone who has shot off a part of their own body? No but I know someone who had been shot (or stabbed? I can’t remember but he was attacked); it was my Kuya’s close friend. What TV shows stick out from your childhood? Mr. Bean, Pokemon, SpongeBob, Jimmy Neutron, Drake and Josh, The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, That’s so Raven, to name a few. What is/was for dinner tonight? No idea yet. My dad usually whips something up at the last minute but it always turns out so so good. What’s really the best cure for a hangover? FRIED CHICKEN and I will die on this hill. Do you eat the stems of broccoli? Oooh I don’t think that’s been served to me before actually. I’m not opposed to trying them though cause broccoli’s my favorite vegetable. How many cavities do you have? I had a couple before but they’ve since been fixed at the dentist. Have you ever given money to a bum? Yes I always give them money ranging from ₱10 to ₱20, and biscuits if I have some in my bag, if they knock on my window. If you found 100 dollars on the floor of a church what would ya do with it? If I found it in a church I’d absolutely run the fuck away with the money lmao. Is your head a fun place to be in? I’m a bit of a workaholic and am always thinking about the next thing to accomplish, so tbh I imagine it looking like Spongebob’s brain HAHAHAHA as in exactly this shot

What is your favorite word? Poignant to me sounds and looks the way it means, which is so satisfying. Why is going to poop such a social taboo? We covered a bit of this in my anthropology class last semester and our prof shared a theory that says our body is in and of itself clean but once substances exit the body they’re seen as impure and already dirty - which is why we’ll have no problem talking about the circulatory system but many tend to faint if they cut their finger too much and see blood leaking out of them. Same explanation goes with poop, saliva, sweat, etc. I’m too lazy to check my notes if every bit of this is accurate, but the impure/dirty is the one I remember to be correct. Who is your worst enemy? Don’t really like the idea of enemies per se but after Marielle betrayed my trust twice I vowed to never speak with her again, and I never have. When was the last time you passed gas? I don’t like farting. If I feel one coming I suppress it on purpose. Do you eat raw hot dogs? No, that sounds so nasty. Do you ever speak out loud what you should be typing? Eh, sometimes and only if I’m by myself. It’s not a habit though. Do you own a squirt gun? We call them a water gun here but it used to be one of my favorite toys from childhood. I don’t own one anymore as I largely don’t need them. Do you like the Subway $5 footlong? I don’t really eat Subway. What is the last thing you ate with Marshmallow in it? Hate marshmallows. I always remove it if it had been added to the food I’m eating. Would you rather live in a shack on the beach or a mansion in Ohio? I love you beach, but I’m taking the damn mansion lol. Do you believe that zombies could really invade the Earth? I don’t think zombies could ever surface naturally but at some point in the distant future, when technology and human knowledge advance enough and if someone was ambitious enough to use such knowledge for the worse, I feel like some chemical or substance causing someone to become a zombie could be made. Idk, people have come up with crazy shit from science that were initially thought to be impossible so for me I’m not ruling out zombies or at least a milder version of them haha. If you were to buy a boat what would you name it? Margo, as an homage to Margo Martindale’s role from BoJack Horseman. Who is your internet provider? PLDT. What has the tv show two and a half men taught you? Nothing, because I’ve never watched an episode. What’s something you’re not supposed to be doing right now? Not thinking about my unfinished thesis. I should definitely be thinking about it right now lol. What’s hotter topless or pantless? A bit TMI considering the time ksksks but topless for me. What would you do if you found a four leaf clover? I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean (but I wanna say it means good luck?) so maybe I’ll just take a photo of it heh. Miami Dolphins or NY Jets? I don’t even know what sport these teams belong to. What is your favorite kind of instant popcorn? I don’t like popcorn, so it’s a pass for me. Do you pay attention to the expiration dates on food? Yeah I check on them quite often since I once had a terrible experience drinking spoiled milk; but I’ve also been told by my dad that the expiration dates don’t necessarily mean spoilage and molds and all that nasty crap, and that the date just means by when the product’s quality will slowly start to decrease, like if chips start to get tougher to chew or if a chocolate bar becomes less sweet. It’s a source of relief, but I’m still paranoid about expiration dates overall. What ringtone is on your phone? Just the ones Apple provides. What odd thing do you wish you were doing right now? Driving in circles around the village just to enjoy the outside world :( Are you a smoker? Socially. How do you feel about not being able to smoke in a lot of bars? I don’t mind it. I’m not desperate to smoke ever.

#survey #surveys

[chubbyooo]

Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 71: Risha

hey all we made it all the way here it took 71 chapters but we’re here :D

Gacen and Ash follow the ranger hoping to find someone long missed

Gacen felt tremors through his hand as he piloted the ship into the nebulous space, Ash was confident this was it this was where Risha was all the searching leading here to this moment. Did he even know if he wanted to see her? what if she didn’t want to see him? he felt a tightness in his throat as he gripped the controls tight he thought he’d put these worries to bed. He thought he’d come to a good conclusion that it was better to find out than worry like this but now that it was happening he wasn’t so sure. Had he made a mistake? Should they just have stayed doing small time jobs what if he messed this all up again he couldn’t let her down twice not again what would he do, this was a mistake it had to be it was just a…

He heard a voice shouting at him and he snapped back to reality “hey hey Gacen snap out of it it’s gonna be fine” he exhaled coming out of the panic to see Ash staring at him

He turned to Ash “sorry I uh I got inside my own head, what were you saying?” Ash looked at him concerned but didn’t press him

Ash pointed to the console “look the tracker has stopped that’s where we need to go” Gacen nodded adjusting his course to head towards the planet “I’m turning shields to the front just in case” Gacen nodded it was a given Risha would be paranoid it’s just how paranoid

Gacen plotted a course “alright here we come Gabredor prime” he smiled deciding to just ignore and push through the nervousness until it was done

Ash narrowed her eyes “prime is so pretentious it’s just Gabredor I” Gacen chuckled pretentiousness was best 

Gacen snickered “well when your wife discovers a secret planet you can call it what you want” Ash’s eyebrows raised “potentially”

Ash folded her arms “I mean your wife would certainly go for the pretentious option” Gacen did a comically over the top gasp

Gacen joked “how dare you we may be upper class pompous criminals but we’re anything but pretentious we were like the fashionable criminals” Ash just scoffed at him hiding a smile

Soon the gas of the nebula began to dissipate and a green jungle planet came into view, Ash used the console to do a quick scan “wow that’s fascinating it’s atmosphere has a layer of chemicals that convert all this noxious gas into harmless oxygen” Gacen had no idea what she was talking about

Gacen nodded “oh yes of course that old thing” Ash turned to him his lie clearly not convincing

Ash sighed dumbing down her explanation “the planet makes the gas breathable like a shield deflecting bolts of energy” Gacen’s eyes widened as he thought about it “you got it now?” 

Gacen held his chin “totally lost” Ash just sighed and turned the scanner off, Gacen tried his best to stealthily land the ship. As they entered the atmosphere they saw the thick canopy covering most of the planet and Gacen landed in the first clearing he could find, Ash scanned for life signs.

“Ok so there is a ton of life on this planet but only two sentient life signs” Ash smiled as she spoke clearly pleased their detective work had paid off

Gacen swallowed hard “so you think they’re?” he trailed off

Ash frowned “of course I think it’s them Gacen it doesn’t take a genius to work that out dummy” Gacen nodded grabbing the sides of his chair hard

Gacen took a deep breath “it’s gonna be fine it’s gonna…” Ash got up and waited for him to follow

Ash raised her eyebrow “buddy it’s too late to go back now either you follow me or I’m carrying you over there and you know I can” Gacen let out a slight chuckle conceding and getting up

He gritted his teeth and exhaled “alright we can do this I’m ready” Ash nodded and made her way to out the ship, they got to the bottom of the ramp and Gacen felt a sharp nervous feeling and leaned up against the landing ramp “I can’t do this” he gripped his stomach tight and slid down to the floor as his breathing became heavier and his thoughts became overwhelming.

Ash turned around and sighed sitting down next to him “so uh what now we wait here?” Gacen felt tears well up in his eyes but he kept them at bay 

Gacen gritted his teeth “I’m sorry I know I just need a minute just a… just…” he tried to finish the sentence but his breathing was too rapid

Ash took his hand “well I’ll be right here I promise” Gacen nodded trying his best to find his composure

He took a deep breath “alright I’m as good as I’m going to be you need to push me to do this” Ash nodded lifting him up by his hand

She led him away from the ship and into the jungle and after about 5 minutes he was walking on his own again “I’m uh sorry about that it’s just…” Ash interrupted before he could finish

 Ash smiled “it’s fine you don’t need to explain to me” Gacen smiled before he pulled Ash into a surprise hug “woah woah what the heck is this, why?” she struggled awkwardly clearly not a hugger

Gacen took a deep breath “just a thanks, thanks for being here whenever I was having trouble you never left you always were here for me you’re the best friend a person could ask for” he couldn’t see Ash’s face but he could tell she was smiling

She stopped struggling “well uh I just wanted to help you know” Gacen nodded releasing her from the hug

Gacen smiled “now let’s stop being so sappy by the force I feel like a fucking jedi” Ash smiled as they continued to walk

“Yeah I mean jeez what dweebs” they laughed and continued forward. 

They followed the life signatures for about an hour before they came upon a reservoir with a rather well constructed wooden bridge on it. Gacen frowned “well that is certainly is the first man made thing we’ve seen” he paused “or maybe droid made” Ash nodded gesturing to proceed with caution

They made their way forward up to the start of the bridge but as they did something jumped out of the trees, suddenly they saw the familiar form of the ranger roll in front of them. Now in view Gacne could see what seemed to be a modified protocol droid with rather advanced modifications at that, they spoke in a robotic but still gruff voice “Identify yerself now” they held an impressive blaster pistol, Gacen thought better of starting a fight and put his hands up

Gacen responded “hello um we mean no harm this is Ash’shen’tor an…” the ranger interrupted them

They shook their head “not to me idiot to him” he gestured to a hooded figure who walked out of the bushes, Gacen frowned, the head was rather large that didn’t seem normal.

The figure began to speak “leave this place traveler ther…” Gacen interrupted him come on that wasn’t even subtle

Gacen chuckled “Guss? Is that you” the figure stammered confused before removing the hood to reveal the mon cal Guss Tuno

Guss blinked quickly “Gacen? Gacen is that you? I uh I couldn’t see you under the hood” he quickly ran to him and pulled him into a tight hug “oh Gacen I’ve missed you so much have you missed me???”

Gacen chuckled always the cheerful one “uh yeah sure” the ranger looked between them confused

The rangers tone changed completely to a more common protocol droid voice “master Tuno I’m confused should I stop the facade

Guss looked to him “oh yes Mask you can stop this is my old captain Gacen Zandar” Gacen did his best to wave while still tightly in Guss’ grip

Mask nodded “ah I see the one married to Mistress Drayen? My name is M4-SK I was an actor until Mistress Drayen recruited me for the ultimate role” Gacen nodded an actor droid what next

Gacen focussed turning to Guss “wait Drayen? Is Risha here?” Guss seemed to come out a daze

He let Gacen go finally “oh yes of course she’ll be thrilled to see you surely, she’s just over the bridge in our base” Gacen couldn’t help but smile but that smile was accompanied by a nervous pit in his stomach

Ash pushed him forward “let’s so see her then” Gacen appreciated the push he would just have stopped without the push

Guss folded his arms “I’m Guss, Gacen’s Best Friend, who may you be?” he shook Ash’s hand very vigorously

Ash looked at him confused “Ash, we’ve actually met before I’m the former leader of havoc squad” Guss’ eyes widened as he realised

He nodded “my apologies it’s been a long time since I’ve seen others, anyway why were you traveling with my Best Friend Gacen” Ash didn’t seem to appreciate the third degree Gacen should save her from Guss’ best friend jealousy

Gacen spoke up “well Guss you should probably notify Risha of our arrival right???” Guss gasped and then immediately fumbled for a comlink

Guss held it to his ear? Gacen assumed that’s what it was “hello boss? Yes I know sorry I got a little caught up we have some guests” paranoia was definitely present on that call “Yes I know you said no guests but you’ll like these guests. No I promise you will, I know I know what you said but I followed all your protocols it’s no one bad I promise, ok ok fine” Guss looked to each of them a little flustered “there’s like a 70% chance she may have a gun when you arrive” Gacen couldn’t help but laugh 

Gacen joked “well it wouldn’t be the first time she’d shot me” Guss laughed awkwardly clearly remembering the occasion

They began walking towards whatever base they had setup, Guss was his chatty self as always “so how did you get here we were so careful” Gacen smiled he’d missed Guss’ constant questions

Gacen explained “well those Dubrillion thugs were like ‘help us we’re a bunch of jags’ and we were like ‘you can shove it dickweed’ but they did give us a lead on a bounty hunter who knew your last location. From there it was actually because of you due to a few little clues around the far more memorable mon cal former jedi than human woman and that led me to more and more clues and eventually we ended up here” Guss nodded listening intently 

Guss looked away “can you uh leave the part out about me being the clues to Risha” Gacen chuckled Guss always wanted to please people

Gacen nodded “sure thing bud but the big question is what the heck is all this about” Guss held his chin clearly trying to put it all together

Guss took a deep breath “well I know some of it, uh after we gave up looking for you, sorry but we really looked everywhere I promise” Gacen nodded that was fine they were pretty well hidden “well Risha wanted to take a crack at Dubrillion and they just kept sending assassins and trying to impede our progress, that Actavarus would destroy cities just to stop us.” Gacen hated that bald cockmuncher “so Risha said we needed to be more subtle and work from the shadows, so uh we found this place near Dubrillion and built a base using droids and Mask for supplies” Guss looked around “that’s the really short version Risha knows all the details” Gacen smiled he knew Risha would never give up on Dubrillion

Ash cut in “well I mean you certainly were well hidden we’ve been searching for a long time” Guss smiled clearly proud he hadn’t given too much away

Gacen nodded “well Rish was always thorough” they reached the end of the bridge now and the base began to come into view, a large red base came into view looking more like a holiday home than a base of operations, Gacen chuckled even when Risha was hiding out she was doing it in style. He noticed the colours kinda matched his style, he smiled maybe Risha was more sentimental than he thought.

Guss was fidgeting with excitement “Oh this is going to be great I love reunions I’ve missed us three so much, Gacen I just I can’t it’s bee…” Ash grabbed the mon cal covering his mouth and moved him back.

Gacen appreciated that he was beyond nervous, he took a long deep breath and walked up to the door, there was no knocker so he went to knock on the metal but as he did the door sprung open and he saw the familiar form of Risha in the doorway holding a blaster carbine ready. She hadn’t aged a day, her eyes still dark and beautiful wearing the exact same pale jacket she always did, but her hair was much longer going down to her shoulders and curled at the end Gacen really liked it.

Gacen smiled trying to keep his composure as she met his gaze she dropped the carbine to the ground “hey Rish long time” her mouth was agape overwhelmed in surprise

Risha smiled “Gacen? Is that?” she walked up to him putting her hand on his face, it was weird suddenly all his worries were gone now he was here.

Still Gacen was so overwhelmed he didn’t know what to say “I uh I like your hair” Risha smiled averting her gaze

She played with the end of her hair “thanks I uh wanted to be as conspicuous as possible so hair change is less identifiable” she mumbled, Gacen nodded putting his hand on hers

Gacen chuckled “it looks good it builds character” Risha frowned at him he probably hadn’t used that correctly oh well.

Risha’s face softened “I like yours too” she chuckled “it’s exactly the same” Gacen raised his eyebrows at her with a grin

He smiled “of course you can’t mess with the hawk” Risha chuckled grinning like he’d never seen, she pulled him into a tender embrace kissing him for a long second but what at first seemed to be just a kiss quickly turned more and more passionate as they began making out stumbling back into the house, the door closing behind them leaving Guss and Ash outside

Guss looked around “we may wanna give them an hour” he paused “or five”...

#swtor #risha drayen #risha #gacen zandar #gacen #smuggler #ash'shen'tor #ash #republic trooper #trooper #blurred lines: cursed past #blurred lines #swtor fanfiction #SWTOR Fic #swtor fiction #swtor fanfic #oc fanfiction #OC fic #OC Fiction #oc fanfic #fanfiction #Fic #fanfic #fiction #my fiction

[dkronpa]

Chapter 3: Journey to Despair, Grave Secrets, Grave Lies ~Trial~

//Sorry for the long wait, but this is by far the longest chapter so far. It might be a little confusing but I think it starts to make sense in the latter part of the trial?? Sorry, this was the one case I really didn’t have the clearest plan of what I was doing.

//Hopefully you all still enjoy!

Bold = blue statements

Bold and italics = yellow statements

“Now! Let’s begin with a simple explanation of the class trial! You’re votes will determine the outcome of this, you will debate on a variety of topics regarding the murder and then try to identify ‘whodunit’. If you can correctly guess the culprit, then the culprit alone will be punished…but if you guess the wrong one. I’ll punish everyone besides the culprit! Hmm…the victim this time was a pretty big hotshot, huh? Pretty sad we lost such a big celeb. Our ratings are gonna go down for sure.”

 “Doubtful.” Sly-san said.

 “Indeed. I doubt Shinko-sama was the popular type.” Ishikawa-san said.

 “Geez, so much for having respect for the dead.” Kurohiko-san frowned, “Uh…I’m gonna be honest. Even after investigating, I don’t really know what to think about all this. I feel like the more I learned, the more confused I got.”

 “So, it wasn’t just me then.” Asano-san sighed. “Despite my best efforts, my evidence doesn’t add to anything…”

 “Then…let’s discuss…the location? Just to get the discussion going.” Ishikawa-san suggested. “It’s a mystery as to why the murder occurred in the history building. Shinko-sama was locking himself up in his room, so how could the killer manage to get him to the building?”

 …Shinko-san was careful. There was no way the killer could have easily lured him out…but then why was he at the history building…?

 -Non-stop Debate (1)-

Truth Bullets/Lie Bullets:

ElectroID Entrance/Tampered Card Reader

Crashing Noise/Silent Night

Blank Motive Card/Filled in Motive Card

 Tsukiko: Shinko-sama kept himself locked up in his room and wouldn’t see anybody. So, pray tell, why was he in the history building?

 Amaterasu: He probably just went by himself and got ambushed by the killer.

 Karma: Oh! Oh! Maybe the killer ambushed Toson beforehand…then they could have dragged him there whilst he was unconscious!

 Yuuki: I feel like there’s more problems with that situation. But, oh well.

 Ryuu: (Let’s figure this out first…I’m sure there’s evidence to disprove one of these theories.)

No, that’s wrong!

-

 “Graves-san, I don’t think Shinko-san was unconscious like you said he was. I got a copy of the card reader’s log and it said that on the night of the murder, Shinko-san used his handbook to enter the history building. So, he must have been conscious at that time…wait.” Why did I have this weird feeling?

 “Nagata-sama? Is something wrong with that deduction? I saw nothing wrong with the logic.” Ishikawa-san said.

 No…there is something wrong about that…is there not something else that might disprove that? “U-um…sorry, I might be wrong…I think? I dunno.”

 “H-huh? Nagata-kun’s confused?” Kirishima-san frowned, “And right off the bat too…?”

 Evidence that contradicts what I just said…?

-

Here’s my proof!

-

“Yokozawa-san, you remember that rag that was in the storage room…?”

 “Yeah, you picked it up and nearly passed out, from the looks of it…ah! You think…?” Yokozawa-san’s eyes widened slowly.

 “That rag might have been used to cause Shinko-san to pass out. After that, the killer could simply take his body all the way over to the history building. If the substance on that rag was something like chloroform or something similar…yeah, I think that makes sense-“

 That doesn’t add up!

-

 “Ah, contradictory evidence is waaay annoying! But I think its way more plausible that Shinko-san walked to the history building by himself. After all, that rag could’ve been planted later.” Kurohiko-san interjected.

 “So, you’re taking that stance, huh…?” I’ll have to argue this. This theory seems a lot more plausible in my eyes, so I just need to show Kurohiko-san why.

-Rebuttal Showdown Vs. Doi Kurohiko-

Truth Blades:

Monokuma File 3

Window Frame

Crashing Noise

Drag Marks in the dirt

Loose Bar

 Doi: No matter how I look at it, it makes way more sense for Shinko-san to have walked to the history building by himself. I can understand the idea behind him being ambushed in the storage room but transporting his body to the history building from there should have been impossible!

 Ryuu: How could they be impossible? Isn’t that a little presumptuous?

 Doi: Not at all! Shinko-san is a pretty in-shape guy. He would’ve been too heavy for anyone to carry all that distance. Plus the issue of the card reader still exists! It said Shinko-san entered, so it must have been Shinko-san! Not to mention that a rag by itself isn’t enough to convince anyone of a theory like that!

 Ryuu: (Kurohiko-san has some good points…but there’s more evidence behind my theory!)

I’ll cut through that argument!

-

 “No, it’s not just the rag that points to this happening! Just outside the dormitory building, right before the stone path up to the fountain, there are fresh drag marks in the dirt, as if something heavy was pulled through that spot.”

 “Something heavy like Toson-chan, you mean.” Amaterasu-san clarified.

 “Ah, really…? But…what about the card reader? It still said Shinko-san…” Kurohiko-san said.

 “That’s pretty easily explained. Shinko most likely already had his ElectroID on his person when he went to the storage room. Once he’s knocked out, the killer can just use Shinko’s ElectroID on the card reader themselves.” Sly-san said.

 “Wow, great deduction, Sly!” Graves-san cheered.

 “Even then, I believe there is more evidence to prove that Shinko-kun did not leave for the history building that night. I can say that for certain after seeing what was in his room.” Asano-san said. Right…in his room was…

-

Here’s my proof!

-

 “There were some plates of untouched food in Shinko-san’s room. It’s likely that Shinko-kun was getting ready to eat but forgot something from the storage room. When he went back after placing the food in his room, he got ambushed by the killer.”

 “I still have a few questions. You say that Shinko-sama was knocked out with chloroform? Where would the killer acquire such a thing? As far as I’m aware, there isn’t anywhere you could get such a substance.” Ishikawa-san said.

 Somewhere you could get chloroform…? I think there might have been one place…

-

Here’s my proof!

-

“In the history building, there are a number of different exhibits to check out. One of them is called ‘non-murdery murder tools’. Sly-san was telling me about that place and mentioned that it actually houses a number of different chemicals. It’s possible that chloroform is among those chemicals. In fact…knowing Monokuma, it’s almost definite.”

 “Ah?! You’re gonna blame me?!” Monokuma covered his mouth in shock.

 “He’s right though. I’ve been in that room before, and there was definitely bottles of chloroform in there. Even the chemicals needed to make it yourself if you’re a skilled enough chemist.” Amaterasu-san confirmed.

 “The distance might still be an issue. Like, theoretically, I get it. However, getting from the dorms to the history building, and then all the way up to the third floor? And into the iron maiden? That’s gotta be exhausting for anybody.” Kurohiko-san said.

 “So, the killer must have been a pretty strong person. Guess Yokozawa and Ram are out.” Sly-san said.

 “E-eh!? I’m out that easily?!”

 “Harsh.” Yokozawa-san said.

 “With that in mind, I’ll just go ahead and say it…Kurosaki’s the killer.” Sly-san said.

 “Aaaaand there it is.” Kurosaki-san shrugged to me as if to say ‘told ya!’.

 “Y-you’re accusing Kurosaki-kun? On what grounds, exactly?” Asano-san questioned.

 “He was in the history building on the night of the murder. I saw him there. It’s not too out of the question to think he’d be the murderer.”

 “The records do show that Kurosaki-sama entered the history building that night, however, we already established that the killer ambushed Shinko-sama and dragged his body to the history building and used Shinko-sama’s ElectroID on the card reader.” Ishikawa-san pointed out.

 “…what if Toson-chan woke up though?” Amaterasu-san suggested.

 “With Shinko’s body type, the amount of chloroform might have not been enough to keep him unconscious the whole time. If he woke up part-way, he might have ran to the history building to take cover.” Sly-san said.

 No…no there’s something wrong with that, and it clearly says it in this record.

-

My logic follows!

-

“That can’t be right though! In the records, it says that Kurosaki-san entered the history building before Shinko-san’s ElectroID was used.”

 “That’s not really too much of a problem to deal with. If Yuuki-chan took Toson-chan’s ElectroID after he ambushed him in the storage room, when Toson-chan woke up, he could have just grabbed whichever ElectroID in a panic.” Amaterasu-san argued. Agh…that’s…true. There’s no way to say that that didn’t happen…

 “Stop panicking, Nagata-kyun. I told you that my defence is in your hands.”

 “Eh…? The fuck you sayin’ all of a sudden? Don’t go shoving shit onto Nagata.” Okanaya-kun said.

 “No, it’s fine…” I really don’t think Kurosaki-san is the killer. I need to find a hole in Sly-san’s theory.

 -Non-Stop Debate (2)-

Truth Bullets/Lie Bullets

Window Frame/No Windows

Exhibit List/Unfinished Exhibits

ElectroID Entrance/Tampered Card Reader

Blood in the library/Shifted Bookshelves

 Sly: I’ll say it clearly; Kurosaki is the killer. Not only was he strong enough to have carried Shinko’s body, but he was also in the history building that night.

 Amaterasu: When it comes to the card reader…Toson-chan probably woke up…then he panicked when he realised the situation.

 Sly: And when he panicked, he stole a random ElectroID off of Kurosaki and fled to the history building, hence the contradiction with the card reader records.

 Rina: And if nobody else was in the building…

 Sly: The killer had to have been Kurosaki.

 Ryuu: (No…this is all wrong. Sly-san must know that I know, so why…?)

No, that’s wrong!

-

 “Actually, there was one more person in the building at the same time the records logged Shinko-san and Kurosaki-san. Sly-san, you also went to the history building that night.”

 “So? I already told you that I saw him there, didn’t I…? I saw Kurosaki enter the building.”

 “That cannot be right.” Ishikawa-san said, “No…the records said that you entered in between Shinko-sama using Kurosaki-sama’s ElectroID, who was first, and the vice-versa being second.”

 “Exactly. If you did see Kurosaki-san enter the history building, it would’ve been when Kurosaki-san’s ElectroID was logged as being used! That means, Shinko-san didn’t take his ElectroID!” What the hell…? Sly-san is being so quiet. It’s not like him to accuse anybody, especially when it’s so easily proven wrong…what gives?

 “But…that means that both Kurosaki and Sly were in the building right before Shinko got murdered, right?” Okanaya-kun asked. “What gives with that? What were you two doing…?”

 Both of them stayed quiet. Seriously, what is this bad feeling that I’m getting…? Like I’m gonna be sick…

 “Could it be…an accomplice?” Ishikawa-san said.

 “A-accomplice?” I repeated.

 “Allow me to explain. Monokuma informed us on day one that accomplices couldn’t be acquitted of the murder and win the trial, only the person who did the actual killing can…however, with this case, it may have been possible for there to have been two killers.”

 “Oh ho~?” Kurosaki-san smirked. “Mademoiselle, you want to accuse both myself and Herr Knives?”

 “Imagine this. The two of you manage to lure Shinko-sama to the history building, you work together to drag him to the torture exhibit. If you both opened the iron maiden, both of you threw Shinko-sama inside, and both of you closed it…then both of you would be equally as responsible for his death!”

 “Ergo, two culprits.” Sly-san concluded. “You’re delusional.”

 “H-hold on, is it even possible for two people to be the culprit?! Monokuma?!” Kirishima-san asked. Monokuma tapped his paw on his chin before speaking.

 “It’s not impossible if that scenario took place. After all, if two people really did work together to close the iron maiden door then they would have both violated the rules equally.” Monokuma said. “So, in that scenario…sure! There would be two culprits!”

 “But it’s unlikely.” Kurohiko-san said.

 “However, the possibility is there, and in the class trial, all possibilities must be explored.” Ishikawa-san argued.

 “Fine, I’ll play ball. I’m not the killer.” Sly-san said nonchalantly.

 “At least sound like you care, will you?! You could be sentenced to death!” Kurohiko-san yelled.

 “Losing my composure here wouldn’t do me any good. I’ll fight your accusation with a level-head and show you all why you’re wrong.”

 -Non-Stop Debate (3)-

Truth Bullets/Lie bullets

Iron Maiden/Locked Iron Maiden

Blood in the Library/Shifted Bookshelves

Rag/Clean Rag

Rock Pile/Undisturbed Rocks

 Tsukiko: I argue that both Kurosaki-sama and Sly-sama are the killers! If they committed the murder as I said, then they would equally as responsible for Shinko-sama’s death!

 Sly: I don’t like Kurosaki enough to work with him on something like this. Not to mention everything you just said is impossible.

 Karma: I don’t get what was so impossible. If you killed Toson at the history building, you could plant all the evidence later!

 Tsukiko: And with two people, you could fake the drag marks.

 Yuuki: What a theory!

 Sly: Like I said though, it’s impossible. After all, I was too occupied to have killed Shinko.

 Ryuu: (…both of them are hiding something. I don’t know why, but they must be working together…I gotta think of a way to find the truth of why they were at that building…)

I agree with that!

-

 “Sly-san, by ‘occupied’…the night of the murder, did you sustain an injury, by any chance?”

 “An injury? Be more specific. I’m an assassin, I’m covered in scars from fights.” Sly-san said.

 “An injury that would’ve produced the blood I found in the library. Something like that, perhaps? I was trying to figure out how it all fit in, but…let’s say there was in incident and you got injured somehow…”

 I’ll kill your theory!

-

“You’re an idiot.” Sly-san spat.

 “Is that really your whole argument?”

 “No incident happened. You’ve got nothing.”

 -Rebuttal Showdown Vs. Sly-

Truth Blades:

Blood in the Library

Bloody Book

ElectroID Entrance

Blank Motive Card

 Sly: You wanna claim that an incident, but can you prove when that blood in the library appeared? Better yet, can you prove it’s my blood? Kurosaki was allegedly in the building as well, so isn’t it just as possible that he’s the one that got injured doing something stupid, as usual.

 Ryuu: You stayed out of the investigation, saying you weren’t feeling up to moving about. If you got injured that night, then it makes sense why.

 Sly: Is that so? Maybe I just felt better watching the body…and that blood still doesn’t mean anything. It was the only blood…and it’s got no indication that it couldn’t have happened before the building became available to us.

 Ryuu: (There’s definitely a flaw in Sly-san’s argument. I’ll point it out and get to the bottom of this)

I’ll cut through that argument!

-

 “No, it wasn’t the only thing with blood. Underneath one of the tables in the library, there was a bloody book. A hardback book at that.”

 “…so what…? You’re saying I got assaulted with that book?” Sly-san raised an eyebrow.

 “I think it’s a possibility…if you were hit hard enough with the book, then it could explain the blood traces on the bookshelves.”

 “Then you’re also saying that Kurosaki is the one that attacked me, right…? After all, he was the only other person in that room according to your theory.”

 “Hmm? Couldn’t it have been the other way about? Maybe Sly-chan hit Yuuki-chan with the book?” Amaterasu-san suggested.

 “Nope. I did it.” Kurosaki-san said. Huh…? He’s…

 “Y…you’re admitting it?” I asked.

 “You’d figure it out eventually, after all, there’s evidence that I was the one who handled that book. The piece of evidence found alongside that blood book…” The evidence alongside it…? That was…

-

Here’s my proof!

-

“That book had a motive card inside of it…Kurosaki-san, are you trying to claim that motive card as your own?”

 “Indeed. I have an older brother who I care about very much. I’d hate it if anything ever happened to him!” Kurosaki-san smiled. His brother…that’s strange. After all…

-

My logic follows!

-

“But…that motive card was blank. How can you say that it was your card whilst claiming you were that close to your brother?”

 “Wouldn’t you say it’s more terrifying to have somebody’s name omitted from this motive…?” His expression suddenly darkened. “Before I entered Hope’s Peak, my brother Taro was perfectly fine…so to find that his name wasn’t on the motive card was just about the most haunting thing. I couldn’t help but theorise as to why his name wasn’t on the card…”

 “…when we spoke before, you told me you had the most dangerous motive out of everybody…did you mean it like that?” I asked.

 “Of course. What’s more terrifying…? One single name on the motive card…or having a blank card when someone you care about should be alive and healthy…?”

 “Ahhhh…that is pretty awful! I just don’t have anybody on the outside worth killing for, so I can’t imagine what your situation is like.” Graves-san said.

 “B-but…if Kurosaki-kun knocked out Sly-kun. That means he was the only one who was conscious in the building when Shinko-kun was there…d-does that mean…?” Kirishima-san twiddled with her thumbs as she spoke.

 “Kurosaki-sama. You killed Shinko-sama!” Ishikawa-san accused.

 “Oh~ Hohoho~ apologies, but Herr Shinko’s death had nothing to do with me! That scuffle me and Herr Knives got into just happened to occur today! You can tell he got injured after what he said at the start of the investigation. About staying at the crime scene because he wasn’t in a state to move about.” Kurosaki-san said.

 “You admit to injuring Sly-kun, but not to murdering Shinko-kun? And you expect us to believe that? You were the only one in the building at the time.” Yokozawa-san stated.

 “But don’t you understand…? If I was in the library at that time, there was no possibility for me to be the one to create the drag marks in the dirt, or to have dropped that rag in the storage room! My fight with Herr Knives is my alibi for the murder!”

 “You could have easily planted that evidence afterwards. Perhaps you were waiting for Shinko-sama to arrive after calling him out to the history building and Sly-sama interrupted that plan.” Ishikawa-san suggested.

 “Herr Shinko would have never gone to the history building just because somebody called him there. He was avoiding everyone, so he wouldn’t have gone along with such an obvious trap.” Kurosaki-san argued.

 “Then explain the fact that Sly-sama left before you!” Ah, I suppose it does say that.

 “Sly-san left…even though he was the one that got knocked out?” Kurohiko-san frowned.

 “Oh, that’s a simple one! I stole Herr Knives’ ElectroID whilst he was unconscious!” Kurosaki-san stuck his tongue out playfully.

 “You what?!” Sly-san growled. “I’m gonna kill you, I swear-“

 “Hey! No violence in the class trial! I swear, you kids are too gung-ho about killing!” Monokuma chastised.

 “I can prove it too!” Kurosaki-san held up the ElectroID that was in his pocket and showed Sly-san’s name when it turned on.

 “You really did take it then…” Yokozawa-san said. “Then…where does that leave us? It’s all so crazy, none of this makes sense…and yet…”

 “No, surely after all this, Kurosaki-sama must have been the killer! He was the only one in that building!” Ishikawa-san insisted.

 “But…that’s simply not his character at all.” Asano-san disagreed. “Kurosaki-kun is…confusing, unpredictable, and most certainly a danger to himself and others…however, killing Shinko-kun in such an awful way…I refuse to believe that Kurosaki-kun would do such a thing!”

 “All I can say is that after we fought, I simply went back to my room.”

-

What a messy situation!

-

“Huh? A standstill? Are you guys at a standstill now…? Well then, the only thing to do is really let you all duke it out here and now! Get ready for the trial morphing grounds!” Kurosaki-san trusted me with his defence…I can’t let him down at this point. I’ll believe in Kurosaki-san until the end!

 -Scrum Debate, Begin!-

"Should be believe Yuuki?"

"We Should Believe him!" - Ryuu, Yuuki, Kobo, Mami, Rina

"We Shouldn't Believe Him!" - Sly, Junpei, Tsukiko, Doi, Amaterasu, Karma

 Doi: Even after all this evidence, you wanna say that Kurosaki-san isn’t the killer?!

(Asano-san!)

Mami: The evidence also shows that it would have been impossible for Kurosaki-san to be the killer.

 Karma: He waited for Toson in the history building but Sly interrupted that plan!

(Kurosaki-san!)

Yuuki: Non, non! There is not a chance that Herr Shinko would have come to the history building without a very important reason.

 Amaterasu: Couldn’t Yuuki-chan have planted all the evidence we found after he killed Toson-chan?

(I’ll deal with this!)

Ryuu: Kurosaki-san isn’t the only person who could’ve planted that evidence afterwards.

 Tsukiko: The card reader records clearly show that Kurosaki-sama used his ElectroID to leave the building after Sly-sama, despite Sly-sama being knocked out!

(Okanaya-kun!)

Kobo: Kurosaki already showed us that he switched around their ElectroIDs, don’t start forgetting shit!

 Junpei: Kurosaki-kun’s the most dangerous person here, it’s not hard to believe that he’d kill someone so brutally.

(Kirishima-san!)

Rina: No…dangerous or not, Kurosaki-kun isn’t a killer! I believe that wholeheartedly!

 Sly: You’re all being fooled. He had motive, means and opportunity. He attacked me! He’s the killer!

(Kurosaki-san!)

Yuuki: You’re wrong. The killer is fooling us all, and I intend to prove that in this trial!

“This is our answer!”

-

 “…as I said before. I am not the killer. I won’t allow you all to die because of the killer’s trap.” Kurosaki-san said.

 “E…even if you say that…how are you intending to do that? We still don’t know anything about this whole murder plan…it’s like there’s no concrete at all.” Yokozawa-san frowned.

 “I disagree. Let us look at the facts. Herr Shinko clearly wouldn’t have left his room for anybody, oui? Ergo, he must’ve been ambushed in the storage room. Let’s roll with that theory for now and see where it takes us.” Kurosaki-san suggested.

 “Right. The rag that was doused with chloroform…which means the killer came up behind Shinko-kun and took him by surprise.” Kirishima-san said.

 “And off we go! Here’s the beginning of our journey to discovering the killer!”

 -Non-stop Debate (4)-

Truth Bullets/Lie Bullets

Rag/Clean Rag

Drag Marks in the dirt/Undisturbed Dirt

Dented Shelf/Food Shelf

Yokozawa-san’s Account/Yokozawa-san’s Mistake

Loose Bar/Iron Bars

 Yuuki: Now that we’re in agreement, let’s go over the events as if Herr Shink were ambushed within the storage room.

 Junpei: Nagata-kun already showed enough evidence to say that Shinko-kun went to get food for himself. That was when the killer ambushed him.

 Mami: When the killer ambushed Shinko-kun, they used a rag with chloroform on it…

 Doi: And Shinko-san went down without a fight.

 Mami: Then, the killer began to drag Shinko-kun’s body over to the history building.

 Yuuki: We never decided if he woke up or not, but either way, Herr Shinko’s ElectroID is used at the card reader.

 Amaterasu: The killer then managed to get Toson-chan into the torture exhibit…and they pushed him into the iron maiden.

 Kobo: Awful way to go…

 Ryuu: (This is a general gist of what could have happened…I need to see if anything contradicts with the evidence…)

No, that’s wrong!

-

 “Kurohiko-san, I don’t think Shinko-san went down without a fight. That seems really improbable, actually.”

 “Is this about the shelf?” Yokozawa-san asked.

 “Yeah.”

 “Basically, there was a dented shelf in the storage room that had appeared sometime last night. Based on the distance between that shelf and the floor, I figured it was probably caused by someone at least 6 foot hitting their elbow into it.” Yokozawa-san explained.

 “You were able to tell all that just from looking at the damage?” Asano-san tilted her head.

 “It’s cause Junpei-chan has no social life.” Amaterasu-san said.

 “Ah, I see. I too know a lot of general facts because of my restricted personal life.”

 “Please don’t compare our situations…” Yokozawa-san sighed, rubbing his temples, “anyway, it’s not as simple as who’s 6 feet tall. It’s also possible that Shinko-kun picked the killer up during a fight and the killer caused that during the struggle.”

 “So, it doesn’t actually narrow anything down. That’s unfortunate.” Ishikawa-san said.

 “No. That’s it. That finally puts the nail in the coffin that was necessary for a solid accusation against our killer. Merci, Yokozawa-kyun!” Kurosaki-san clapped.

 “K…’kyun’?!” Yokozawa-san blushed a little.

 “Ugh…finally.” Sly-san let out a sigh of relief, “You were really starting to get on my nerves, I never thought it would work out.”

 “Wh…huh?” Okanaya-kun tilted his head.

 “Sorry, sorry! I should apologise to all of you for taking you on that ride earlier, but it was necessary to get to this point! You see, Herr Knives and I…kind of acted out everything before in order to draw suspicion to the real killer.” Kurosaki-san said. What? What is he talking about?

 “What, like…you two were working together?” Graves-san asked.

 “This guy called me a few nights ago detailing that a certain someone was planning a murder. I didn’t really believe it, but…I guess I couldn’t chance it. Don’t get it twisted, I still don’t trust him. He’s a slimy bastard through-and-through.” Sly-san said.

 “Then why help him…?” Kurohiko-san asked.

 Sly-san twirled his chain around his finger, “…cause he knows stuff. That’s all I can really say about it. So, we staged a fight in front of the main bulk of the group. Figured nobody would bother us and we could figure out what to do in secret.”

 “You two faked that whole thing?!” Okanaya-kun said, “The fuck…if you thought a murder was gonna occur, why didn’t you stop it?!”

 “If we tried to stop it, we would have ended up victims instead. That was a guarantee. Either way, someone was going to die.” Kurosaki-san said.

 “How can you know that?!” Okanaya-kun growled.

 “He just can…I don’t like it, but…” Sly-san shook his head, “the point is, the killer’s messed up. What Yokozawa just said outs them as the killer.”

 “R-really…? You’re saying I helped out…?” Yokozawa-san was clearly trying to stop himself from smiling, “I m-mean…of course! You guys would be lost without me, right?! You should all be thanking me!”

 “What a tool.” Amaterasu-san said.

 “Nagata-kyun, you’ve realised it by, surely? Someone has been acting very suspicious ever since this morning. Not to mention that Herr Shinko being in a fight directly contradicts something you’ve heard before.” Kurosaki-san nodded to me. Yeah…I figured it out while they were talking. The killer…the one that killed Shinko-san like that, is…

-

The culprit…is you!

-

 “…Tsukiko Ishikawa.” The name caused a void in the room. Everybody’s eyes swiftly shifted towards the silent girl who stared at the whole group with vacant emotionless eyes, no smile or frown on her face. No sign of surprise or expectancy. “…I remember. In your autopsy report, you said there were no signs of a struggle on Shinko-san’s body. But, the dent on that shelf shows that he definitely fought with his killer. It’s a direct contradiction with what you told me! What do you have to say?!”

 “…Nagata-sama, come now. Is this a joke.” Ishikawa-san put a gloved hand over her mouth, suppressing the urge to laugh, “because of an error in my autopsy, I’m now a suspect? That’s completely absurd.”

 “But it’s not. Ever since this morning, you’ve been acting…cold. Almost on edge…I didn’t think much of it, that maybe being in here was just getting to you…but the murder was on your mind. You were acting differently without meaning to.”

 “…the issue here is with the autopsy, yes? That can be easily explained. If you will allow me to speak…?”

 “Go right ahead. We’ll reach the truth one way or another.” Sly-san said. Ishikawa-san’s brow furrowed.

 “Insolence.” She said.

 -Non-Stop Debate (5)-

Truth Bullets/Lie Bullets

Ishikawa-san’s Autopsy/Ishikawa-san’s Mistake

Loose Bar/Iron Bars

Monokuma File 3/Monokuma’s Mistake 3

Dented Shelf/Food Shelf

Iron Maiden/Locked Iron Maiden

 Tsukiko: There is absolutely no issue with me getting something wrong in my autopsy report. After all, I am not a forensics expert.

 Sly: Despite the fact that your field of expertise is dead bodies?

 Tsukiko: Be that as it may, even a professional mortician would have had trouble. Shinko-sama’s body was in an iron maiden. Ergo, holes were all over his body. I messed up the autopsy because of the holes in his arms. Nothing more.

 Yuuki: Ah…you really think it’s so simple. You can’t run away from the truth.

 Tsukiko: You’re a fool. You have no proof I was there other than circumstantial evidence.

 Ryuu: (Ishikawa-san…it’s hard to believe, but this seems to be the way Kurosaki-san and Sly-san were pushing the argument.)

No, that’s wrong!

-

 “Ishikawa-san, did you really think that would work?”

 She said nothing.

 “If you look at the Monokuma file, on the page where it shows the placement of Shinko-san’s injuries…you can clearly see that his arms didn’t sustain any injuries at all! There were no injuries to obstruct you from seeing signs of a struggle on his arms!”

 “And? There were no signs of a struggle on his arms. If there was a struggle, then he would have gotten injured elsewhere.” Ishikawa-san said.

 “Now you’re changing your story. Not looking good for you.” Kurosaki-san taunted.

 Ishikawa-san clicked her tongue. “Isn’t it early to accuse anybody? We barely have a picture of what transpired last night. All we know is that Shinko-sama was ambushed in the storage room, and because of a mix-up in my autopsy, I’m the killer? I think not!”

 “…fine. We’ll do it your way. Let’s figure out the rest of the events and show that Mademoiselle Ishikawa is the only person that could have done it!” Kurosaki-san said.

 “Then we should discuss the time of death. We still haven’t settled on when it took place.” Amaterasu-san said.

 “Yuuki should know, right? After all, the killer arrived at the history building with Toson’s unconscious body right before he left the history building!” Graves-san said.

 “Hmm…Herr Knives arrived around 12:30am. Then at some point the killer arrived. Herr Knives and I staged our fight and I left at around, say…12:40am. In that 10-minute time frame is when the killer arrived.”

 “It takes about two or three minutes to walk from the dorm building to the history building, but with dragging Shinko’s body…the killer probably would have taken double that. So, let’s say it took them five minutes.” Sly-san decided.

 The time of death definitely took place sometime after that 10-minute period between when Sly-san arrived, and Kurosaki-san left. If we can figure out when, maybe it’ll prove Ishikawa-san’s the killer…!

 -Non-Stop Debate (6)-

Truth Bullets/Lie Bullets

Window Frame/Missing Windowpane

Crashing Noise/Silent Night

Bloody Book/Regular Book

ElectroID Entrance/Tampered Card Reader

Exhibit List/Unfinished Exhibit List

 Karma: So, the killer definitely arrived at the history building between 12:30am…and 12:40am.

 Rina: Then they must have taken a certain time to get the body all the way up to the third floor. Ah…that must have been really challenging.

 Kobo: Depending on their strength, it could take up to 20 minutes for the killer to reach the torture exhibit.

 Rina: The problem is that there was no evidence discovered in the history building that could point us to the time of death.

 Junpei: Does it need to be the time of death…? Can’t we even estimate a timeframe?

 Amaterasu: It was probably after Yuuki-chan left the building. So, definitely after 12:40am.

 Kobo: But we have no idea when the killer left!

 Junpei: Surely not too soon after?

 Ryuu: (Establishing the time of death could help us discover the killer…I wonder is there any way to figure it out…?)

No, that’s wrong!

-

 “No, we do have an idea of when the killer left the building! That night, Okanaya-kun, Kirishima-san, and me were all out on the field when we all heard a crashing noise come from the leisure building. When we investigated, we found a broken window on the side that faced the history building.”

 “Huh…? You sayin’ that was caused by the killer?” Okanaya-kun asked.

 “Yeah, I’m sure of it. That crash happened somewhere between 1am and 1:30am, we weren’t keeping track of the time so we can’t make anything definite.” I said.

 “No, that’s fine. Kurosaki said he left the building around 12:40 and dragging the body from the 1st floor to the 3rd floor and then putting it into the iron maiden would probably take about 20 minutes, so it fits in with the time frame.” Sly-san said.

 “Preposterous.” Ishikawa-san said.

 “Oh? Why’s that?” Kurosaki-san smiled.

 “Do I really need to point out the obvious? The killer was in the history building, but the broken window was at the leisure building. How on earth would the killer manage that?”

 “…I don’t think that would be much of a problem in this case. You could probably hit the leisure building from the history building if you used…”

-

My logic follows!

-

“…the catapults at the top of the towers on the history building.” I concluded.

 “Oh yeah, if you used those catapults then you could definitely hit the leisure building window from the history building. So…the killer probably saw Ryuu-chan, Kobo-chan, and Rina-chan all out on the field and used the catapults to distract them for long enough to get back to the dorms without being seen.” Amaterasu-san said.

 “And there’s even evidence of the catapults being used, right Nagata?!” Okanaya-kun grinned. Ah…yeah, he’s right actually.

-

Here’s my proof!

-

 “It’s as Okanaya-kun said. There was a large collection of rocks underneath the broken window, and when I went to check the weapons exhibit today, the pile of rocks in there had been disturbed and were lying around on the floor. The killer most likely used those rocks and loaded them into the catapult.”

 “They didn’t clean it up…? That’s pretty unusual.” Yokozawa-san noted.

 “The killer was in a rush. They didn’t know how long that distraction would give them, so they had to get to the dorms as quickly as possible.” Asano-san took a moment to put the sequence of events together in her head, “yes, most likely…the killer launched the rocks, sprinted down the stairs and left the history building-“

 You’ve dug your own grave!!

-

“That’s impossible!!” Ishikawa-san suddenly yelled.

 “H-huh…?”

 Ishikawa-san took a moment and returned to her usual demeanour, “Ahem…what I mean is…the killer never shows up on the card reader records after Shinko-sama enters the building, correct? Or rather…it’s impossible to leave the building without showing up on the card reader. So that must mean the ones who show up on the card reader are the killers!”

 “You’re gonna throw the blame on Kurosaki-san and Sly-san again?!”

 “I believe the shoe has fit for a while. I will end this farce here and now!”

-

-Rebuttal Showdown Vs Tsukiko Ishikawa-

Truth Blades:

Iron Maiden

Exhibit List

ElectroID Entrance

Crashing Noise

Broken Window

Rock Pile

Loose Bar

Window Frame

 Tsukiko: To leave the building, you are required to scan your ElectroID at the door, there is no other way out of the building! If we are to follow that very simple logic, whoever shows up on the card reader must be the true culprit!

 Ryuu: That doesn’t account for all the logs on the records! Kurosaki-san and Sly-san both entered before Shinko-san arrived and didn’t leave until after he got there! What’s your explanation for that?

 Tsukiko: It is obvious. Shinko-sama went to the history building after all! Either Kurosaki-sama or Sly-sama ambushed and killed him! To think that you would all accuse me when the truth is as clear as day…

 Ryuu: (The further we go, the more agitated Ishikawa-san becomes…I’m convinced now that we’re on the right track…)

I’ll cut through that argument!

-

 “You’re wrong! There is another way out of the history building other than the ID entrance. Kirishima-san was investigating the ground floor and stumbled upon something really interesting; one of the bars on the windows was loose and could be removed pretty easily.”

 “Ah, yeah! I totally forgot about that! With the space between the bars, taking one out means anyone could have slipped through the gap!” Kirishima-san said.

 “Ishikawa-san, you objected because you knew that fact already. You thought if you threw off the argument now that we’d direct our attention back to Kurosaki-san and Sly-san, but it won’t work.”

 “So, what if the bar comes out? That doesn’t mean the killer actually used that route to leave the building!”

 No…she’s wrong, there’s evidence of the killer using that window!

-

Here’s my proof!

-

“There were scuff marks on that window frame as if something metal was scratching against the stone. Ishikawa-san…those buckles on your boots are metal, aren’t they?” I waited for a response, but Ishikawa-san remained silent, glaring intensely at me. “If you crawled out of the window, your boot buckles would have scraped against the stone which would explain those scuff marks that were found!”

 “You…” Ishikawa-san’s voice began to sound venomous.

 “God, this talk about the ID gate is really confusing me…hey, Nagata-kun, how do you even know about all these gate records anyway?” Yokozawa-san asked.

 “Monokuma gave us a sheet of paper with the record of the last 24 hours. I was supposed to share it with everyone cause it’s the only copy, but…I kinda forgot.” No, Kurosaki-san told me to keep to myself.

 “That’s weird…” Okanaya-kun murmured. Huh? What’s weird. “You didn’t show the records to anyone…?”

 “Only to Kurosaki-san, but that’s because he was with me when I got them.” I said. Okanaya-kun only frowned further. Something is weird about all this…what’s weird about this…?

-

My logic follows!

-

“…ah! Ishikawa-san knows about the ElectroID records!”

 “Wh-“

 “Actually…ever since the start of the trial, she’s been talking about the ID records as if she’s seen them, but if Nagata-kun is the only person with a copy then how-“

 “I have seen the records.” Ishikawa-san cut Asano-san off. “When I was performing my autopsy, I asked Monokuma-sama to bring me the card reader records because I believed it would lead to the killer. However, I returned the paper to Monokuma-sama once I read it. That is why Nagata-sama ended up with the records.”

 “But wasn’t Sly-chan in the room with you?” Amaterasu-san asked.

 “Not the whole time. Due to the head injury and the stench of blood, I had to leave the room for five minutes to get some air. I guess it’s possible in that time, Ishikawa asked for the card reader records. I hate giving it to her, but this is one thing we can’t disprove.”

 “Even so, pile it on with everything else…it’s more likely that she knew Sly and Yuuki were in the building because she saw them, right? She got there right after Sly arrived so she might have spotted him, and she hid from Yuuki after she got there.” Graves-san pointed out.

 “It’s all circumstantial! You’ve still yet to show any solid proof of me being in that building, let alone killing Shinko-sama! I’m really getting fed up with all these baseless accusations! I apologise for my mistake with the autopsy report, but we’re all guaranteed to faulter at some point, so just move on!”

 “We can’t do that. After all, Mademoiselle…you’re the killer.”

 “ENOUGH!!!” Ishikawa-san snapped, slamming her hands on her podium. “I’m sick of this! Sick of it all! Who are you to get on your high horse and accuse everyone?! If anybody in this group is suspicious it is you!! You’ve really pushed me to my limit!”

 “…Nagata-kyun.”

 “Is this the end argument…?”

 “I believe so.” Kurosaki-san nodded.

 “Then…I’ll take it head on. I’ll give you your proof and show you that you were present at the history building!”

 “You insolent boy…! You have no respect for your peers, I will prove you all wrong right here and now!!”

-

-Argument Armament vs Tsukiko Ishikawa-

 Tsukiko: All you have given to say I am the killer is circumstantial evidence! You’re all putting blind faith in baseless theories provided by Kurosaki-sama without showing any concrete proof and I refuse to stand for it!

 Tsukiko: I would never kill Shinko-sama! As a thanatologist, I have too much respect and value for life that to take away life would be a sin for me to do! You all truly believe that I would betray my own occupation for a chance to escape?! Preposterous!

 Tsukiko: The killer is Kurosaki-sama, or Sly-sama, or both! You have all been fooled by their craftiness! I will not allow them to pin all of their crimes on me! Stage a fight?! Predict a murder?! Who would believe such foolish nonsense?! You’re all smarter than that!

 Ryuu: This is the end!

 Tsukiko: Where is the proof, I was in the history building?!

In the rock pile!

-

 “I have it. Your proof that you wanted so desperately. In that rock pile that hit the window, there was something else mixed in there…a piece of black fabric. Ishikawa-san…I wonder, could that piece of fabric come from you…?”

 “I’m suddenly the only person that wears black?”

 “No, obviously not…but when launching the catapult, I wonder…is it possible your glove got caught on the catapult and tore when it launched? Or maybe it tore when you were carrying the rocks…? If we collected that fabric, would it be the same kind of fabric as your gloves…?”

“What kind of fabric are your gloves, Mademoiselle? Silk? I think you’d be the only person here that wears silk.” Kurosaki-san chimed in.

 “Th…that’s…” Ishikawa-san looked lost for the first time since she started to argue. “I…can explain-“

 “Ishikawa-san. Please…” Asano-san spoke softly. “It hurts to even accuse you, but seeing you argue like this hurts me even more. You must understand that there are no more arguments now that Nagata-kun has placed you at the history building.”

 “And as the one that pulled the lever on the catapults.” Graves-san added.

 “And left scuff marks on the window frame.” Kurohiko-san followed.

 “And with nobody there to back you up. Yuuki-chan and Sly-chan already said they were there together.” Amaterasu-san said.

 “Not to mention, I’ll gladly show everyone my wardrobe. None of my black clothing is damaged in any way.” Sly-san said.

 “Also, since you dropped the rags, you had your gloves to use for a replacement rag if Shinko woke up again.” Okanaya-kun said.

 “I…I…” Ishikawa-san’s clenched fists relaxed, her eyes exhausted, “…concede.”

 “…then let’s wrap this up. We’ll go from the start of the case and finish this for good.”

This is the truth of the incident!

-

Act 1

For the killer to guarantee that their plan worked, they needed to pick a victim that would be easy to ambush. Luckily, their observations allowed them to learn that our victim, Shinko-san, would go to the storage room at night to get cutlery for his food. It was the perfect opportunity, despite Shinko-san doing everything he could in order to avoid being killed. The night of the murder, the killer snuck up on Shinko-san and attempted to drug him by using a chloroform-soaked rag, however he fought back and in the ensuing fight before he passed out, he dented the food shelf.

Act 2

Next the killer began to drag his body over to the history building. Usually this would be hard for any normal person, but our killer was experienced in handling bodies. When they got to the history building they used Shinko-san's electroID to get inside and went to the ancient torture exhibit after hiding from Kurosaki-san who was leaving around the same time they arrived and then...they threw his body into the iron maiden and closed it over. I'm not sure if Shinko-san died whilst unconscious, frankly, I don't want to consider the idea that he regained consciousness.

Act 3

The killer then went to leave the building but spotted myself, Okanaya-kun, and Kirishima-san sitting outside at the fountain and realised they couldn't get back to the dorms without being seen, so they made an on-the-spot plan. They took a pile of rocks from the torture exhibit and loaded them onto a catapult at the top of the tower and aimed it at the leisure building. The released the catapult and began sprinting down the stairs, not realising a piece of their glove tore on the catapult.

Act 4

The rocks hit the windows of the leisure building, alerting myself, Okanaya-kun, and Kirishima-san and causing us to go and investigate. That's the opportunity the killer had to climb out of the window, to avoid using the electroID lock on the front door, scuffing the window frame as they did and ran back to the dorm building. All they had to do from there was wait until the next morning and discover the body and lie in the autopsy report.

 And the person who did all of this...was you, right?! Tsukiko Ishikawa, the Ultimate Thanatologist!

-

 “…I see. I…truly underestimated you, Nagata-sama…Kurosaki-sama.” Ishikawa-san giggled as if everything was normal. “I…thought that as long as I left no trace of myself, I could win. Then Nagata-sama, Kirishima-sama, and Okanaya-sama turned up and…I slipped up.”

 “Ishikawa-san…”

 “I did my best to fight it. I’ve abused my second chance at life…I’ll accept my fate now, it is alright.” She smiled politely, “apologies for my behaviour.”

 “…that’s gotta be the politest confession we’ve ever gotten!” Monokuma sprung to life. “Well, you all know the score by now! On your podiums are buttons of all the participants, it’s time to vote for who you all think is the killer! Will you pick the right person, or the dreadfully wrong person? Who’s it gonna be…? What’s it gonna be?!”

 We all locked in our votes and the roulette wheel started to spin around before eventually landing on Ishikawa-san’s face. The bouquets of flowers and coins showered out from the machine to celebrate the end of the voting.

 The third class trial had ended.

#DKronpa #chapters #fanganronpa #fangan ronpa #danganronpa fangan #danganronpa #dangan ronpa

[cmtrydrve]

            hey ! my name’s link , i go by he/they pronouns , am 21+ & live in the cst timezone ! my only personality trait is being a bts , sment & girl groups enthusiast . i’m an aries sun with a pisces moon , which means i can be aggro , am always loud & obnoxious , but am a secretly sensitive softy , so plz be nice to me !!! this is my child , mikey , who’s stuck in 2006 & never grew out of his emo phase ( take that , mom ! ) . he’s also an aries , because my jjks always end up like that . hopefully , you’ll love him as much as i already do ! under the cut , you’ll find some misc . info & wanted connections . here are links to his dossier page & his pinterest board , which will hopefully give you some deeper insight . i’m excited to be here & write with you all ! like this if you’d like to plot & i’ll fly to your ims , but also feel free to add me on d*scord ( it’s easier for me as well ) : no brain only loving bts#6669 !

— jeon jungkook. he/they. demiboy. | was that michael “mikey” kwon i just saw in the hideaway lobby ? i hear the twenty-two year old spends most of their time working as a record store clerk / studying communications , but i’ve always just seen them dyeing their hair different colors with kool-aid . they live in 3c and i often see them in the halls. they always give me a vibe of getting into arguments online , an entirely black wardrobe and drinking six cups of coffee to make it through the day . 

misc . info :

his parents are both very hip artists who met & fell in love while attending art school. they’re both very modern kind of parents, which meant that mikey grew up around a lot of self-expression (& being told to try it for himself), paint everywhere & pot.

growing up, he was allowed to paint his walls & even ceiling however he pleased & it instilled a love of creativity in him. his parents still have paintings he did as a child hanging up on their walls & fridge. even now, he still draws casually, though it was always a hobby for him & not his actual passion.

his parents are extremely caring & understanding. as a teenager, they allowed him to go out & party & always made sure to get him home safely. mikey genuinely can not remember a single time they ever yelled at him even when he fucked up massively. so he tries his best to make sure they’re happy & taken care of. but they’re adamant in supporting whatever mikey wants to do.

they were both the alternative types, which meant that rock music filled their home. mikey was familiar with classic rock from a young age & the sounds of fleetwood mac & other similar bands fills him with a warmth that can only be attained from childhood nostalgia.

his first taste of love came at the age of seven. his parents always brought home new albums to listen to & his dad purchased three cheers for sweet revenge by my chemical romance. while the screaming & raging instruments could have been too much for anyone else his age, mikey embraced it fully.

it ignited an adoration for the genre as a whole & soon enough, his parents were bringing home various emo music albums to sate the always dramatic & over-reacting mikey. for christmas, he received mcr’s discography (at the time, just two albums) on vinyl, which he still has hanged proudly on his wall as an adult.

he owns every variation of every mcr album now. vinyl, cd, cassettes. he even collects the japanese versions because he likes the way they’re designed.

he dropped the name mike / michael because of mikey way & he refuses to answer to anything else.

even though it’s largely part of “cringe culture” now (which mikey refuses to participate in), he loves hot topic & goes there whenever he can. his closet is full of band tees & he has a drawer filled with those spiky belts, bracelets & pants with the suspenders from his teenage years.

he’s been dyeing his hair regularly since he was twelve. he’s had every color under the sun. this is what his hair currently looks like but he dyes the highlights with kool-aid, so the color is always changing.

he has a nostril piercing & would probably get more done if someone so much as implied that he should.

he has a mcr stan twitter account & he gets into fights with everyone he decides has a wrong opinion. he’s been suspended multiple times for being too aggressive online, but he always comes back. he also has a tumblr account but he just uses it to reblog pictures of gerard way (his bias KJHFDKJ).

he works at a record store & goes to school for communications. he hopes to either be a radio dj or podcast host. he wants to get paid to talk about how much he loves music either way. but he loves his current job because he gets to talk about music all day and recommend albums to people. also it’s helpful in perfecting his own vinyl collection.

yes, he cried the day mcr broke up & yes he bought tickets to all their reunion shows. he took the day off when the tickets went on sale & his boss was understanding, knowing how much he loves the band.

he’s extremely impulsive. if you tell him to do anything, he more than likely will. he has a lot of stupid scribbled tattoos on him for this reason, especially on his hands.

while he doesn’t mind appearing masculine & even embraces it, he doesn’t fully align with being a man. he started identifying as nonbinary in his teens, but has never felt 100% a man his whole life. he’s fine with both he or they pronouns for the most part, though he does have his preferences day to day. he introduces himself as nonbinary so it’s not a secret & everyone who interacts with him is aware.

he’s kind of a party animal. he’s that loud person who drinks too much & ends up blacked out on the floor.

he gets in trouble a lot, because he plays music very loudly at both his workplace & his apartment. but he’s of the opinion that if music is too loud for you then you’re just too old.

he’s aggressive & very arrogant. he will fight you about anything & everything. he just likes to argue & he thinks he’s right about everything.

in typical aries fashion, he loves to flirt & be flirted with. he just adores attention & seeks out affection where he can find it. he gets crushes really easily & pursues aggressively (he’s extremely charming & good at making people feel good about themselves), but he gets bored when he actually obtains the person he desires. he’s never really seriously dated, but has had over a billion crushes in his lifetime.

thought dramatic & annoying most of the time, he’s also very loyal & has a good heart. if you’re in his circle of people he likes, then he’ll do anything for you point blank. he always tells his friends that he’d die for him & he means it.

while he tries to appear confident, he has secret insecurities stemming from being the middle child. he has issues with feeling like he’s not good enough or thinks he’s unnoticed by everyone, so he acts up by being dramatic.

he drinks A LOT of coffee, so he’s pretty much always bouncing off the walls.

he’s extremely pansexual & loud about it. if you’ve known him for longer than five minutes then you’ll find out how he wishes he could smash gerard way specifically in the helena mv to smithereens.

he very casually knows how to play guitar. he’s that person who plays wonderwall at every party.

while he’s not a fan of pop music, he knows most girl group dances & can do them well.

wanted connections :

exes (any gender. it will more than likely be something casual, like a few months or less, but we can discuss the timeline! also it can be messy or friendly. extra points if there’s lingering feelings!)

hookups / fwbs (any gender. singular experiences or regular type things)

childhood plots for those who’ve lived in seattle (childhood friends, first kisses / crushes, all that good stuff)

flirtationships that don’t go anywhere

one-sided crushes (don’t mind who has the feelings!)

mutual pining but they’re both idiots & have no idea

party buddies (can be drinking &/or smoking). emo music buddies. netflix buddies. any of these can be combined.

enemies???? (if we can decide on a suitable plot. or enemies with benefits :smirk:)

someone who knows of mikey from his stan twitter but doesn’t realize it’s him & talks shit openly about the asshole who runs the account in front of him.

on the opposite side of the spectrum, someone who he flirts with in the dms & they plan to meet up after realizing they live in the same apartment building.

tinder date (it can go well or not)

frequent customers (customers he flirts with or can’t stand because they just loiter or gets into fights with because they have bad taste in music

someone who takes advantage of mikey being willing to do anything he’s dared to do. make him do all the stupid shit he shouldn’t be doing, whether it’s getting tattoos / piercings or anything dangerous or just idiotic.

you’re sick of this asshole blasting music late at night & go to yell at him for it but oops he’s actually attractive (or you actually can’t stand him, whichever GKDHFGJFKD).

i have a huge tag full of plots i’d love to do on my rp spam blog. not all of them will be fitting for mikey but just ask me & we can try to change some elements or something!

literally anything you can think of i’m probably down for it!

#hide:intro #◟ * 𝟎𝟏𝟑. 𝑔𝑜 ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑙𝑧 › OUT OF CHARACTER #not me being ready on time for once wow