#not try to do anything else like . this wasn't Bad

[f4nd0m-fun]

DPxDC - Mafia Ties

Good parents Fenton and redeemed Vlad escaping to another universe with Danny, Jordan, Ellie, Jazz, Tucker, and Sam because of GIW chaos getting so bad they literally need to go to another world to get help, only for the portal to close, and they can't open it from this side. Jordan is Jazz's age maybe a year older and Ellie accidentally got deaged to her actual age give or take which is probably about a year and a half old. Yes it's the Family Breakfast ship.

@hallowsden

Cue Vlad doing his whole possession stuff to not only get them new identities but carefully accumulate a small amount of wealth, not enough to be suspicious in his opinion but still.

The Fenton parents start looking to see if/where this world has ectoplasm because the kids, and maybe Vlad, need it. Hel, maybe the parents accidentally need it too after all those years of exposure.

I know everyone chooses Gotham for this stuff, but also that's about the most I know about DC and it has a Lazarus pit underground so we're using it.

Vlad doesn't get back into the proper businessman profile, too many eyes for him to feel safe after the GIW disaster, but he does end up a Mafia boss, or at least tries. Also, Hood becomes a new 'son' obsession for him, yeah he has Danny and Jordan and Ellie but this kid is also ghosty and probably hungry or something, right?

Hood doesn't get what's up with this weird older man who always has a baby with him, let alone why he'd even bring a baby along to mafia stuff.

Vlad thinks it's safer to have Ellie in mafia meetings than be left with the Fentons during their research obsession periods because they will literally not pay attention to anything else unless it's an emergency, it's not their fault, they're learning to manage it though.

Speaking of Fentons, they work on clean energy manufacturing topside, but underground they deal with weapons. Mostly they supply them to Vlad's crew, since that's basically their testing grounds, but they also don't make anything that's actually lethal. Vlad isn't a fan of guns though but he isn't about to bring out his plasma blasts if there isn't a good reason. (He pretends anyone who sees him cackling like a maniac hit their head, he did say he hates using guns after all).

Jordan and Jazz are probably about 17/18 now. Jazz is going to college, while Jordan slips his way into the kid's mafia (yes he knows he's a kid now too, shut up, he used to be 24). This is half to annoy Vlad and half because he's curious. Jazz, of course, with a little help from both Vlad and Tucker in getting her grades moved between universes, is in college soon, and manages a full scholarship (not that Vlad wouldn't have paid if he still had his old money, in fact he might even be a little jealous that he wasn't the one to pay for her schooling).

Jordan looks a little more like Vlad than he does Jack, due to the way the ghost half fusion effects everything, but he also looks more like Jack than Maddie because Jack is what Danny would have grown into anyway.

Ellie of course just looks like a nearly carbon copy of Danny of course, just baby and female.

Danny, Sam, and Tucker are all going to Gotham Prep, if Vlad can't pay for Jazz's schooling then he's paying at just some for theirs (they might have partial scholarships but not full ride). Danny still sneaks out at night because he can't stand sitting still after an hour time being a vigilante and ends up running into the Bat. He promptly apologizes for invading his haunt and flees.

If any ships, I'm thinking Jazz/Jason and Jordan/Dick, but I'm a sucker for everlasting Trio and Tim also has a trio of his own.

Back to Ellie and Vlad. He of course is trying to keep any 'Meta' rumors on the downlow, but she's just a baby. The harness she's in is ghost proof mostly so she can't just phase out of it, but you try changing a baby's diaper and they just turn intangible, or put then down to nap when they start floating. Hel, imagine setting her down for two seconds, she accidentally makes a shield, and now she's crying because she wants to be held. Sure, Vlad and Danny both, Jordan and Ellie too, can go through shields in human form, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting or something. Eventually it gets figured out though.

I wonder how long it takes Jason to figure out that this Jordan fellow is related to Vlad. 😂

I also wonder what it would take for Vlad to actually use his ghost form outright, what kind of threat he'd expose himself to for the sake of his family. Just, shoving the kids at Jack - "Darling your aim is iced tea, let Maddie and myself handle this" - and doing what he has to.

And, yes, even as a Mafia boss he refuses to actually swear. Also, he probably still goes by Plasmius, the way his other form looks does NOT help the vampire rumors. Let alone the- well, I read a post on here a while ago where Ellie Danny and Jordan were deaged and needed his ectoplasm to survive. Imagine being a Plasmius goon in a meeting while he's trying to rock his baby to sleep and she's just sucking on his hand. You don't think much of it until you see he's bleeding and, even though it's technically red, your pretty sure it's glowing green and you're not sure if you want to ask (you won't but still). Plus, he's not even reacting to what must be a fair bit of pain, right?

Honestly, there's probably a betting pool about the whole weird family.

And of course I'm bringing in my Alfred Clockwork storyline. Flashpoint Thomas is Frighty, dead Thomas is Pariah, and Gotham is Martha. The moment Vlad finds out that Jason's grandparents are some of the most powerful ghosts in the realms (or at least this side of them in Gotham's case) he's like "okay I won't interfere, but maybe he'd like a friend? He doesn't seem to know a lot of ghosts.' (he tries to figure out which kid would be a better fit and that's when he finds out Jordan's been working for Hood this whole time. "You didn't tell me?" "You didn't know?!") 😂

Basically, give me a Mafia family who's major story plot isn't even the bats outright, it's just trying to survive after fleeing a world that may as well be destroyed at this point. Sure, they interact with the bats, cross paths, maybe even a couple relationships, but, overall, the Fenton-Masters are just outsiders in Gotham, learning to adjust to this new life.

#Fenton-Masters Mafia Crossover #Fenton-Masters Mafia AU #Fenton-Masters Mafia Family #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc au #dimensional travel #new life

[littledata]

@princington's amazing art brought me back to this fic so have a little extra for them.

There are many, many terrible things about dating Beatrice.

For example: she manages to wake up at six AM every single morning to go jogging and comes home looking sweaty and sexy while Ava is still dealing with bedhead. She's also organised to the point of insanity and remembers every important date, even the ones Ava didn't realise she knew (like the date she opened the coffee shop. They hadn't even met for fuck's sake), and manages to swoop in with a thoughtful gift or kind word to mark the occasion. Meanwhile, Ava is still scribbling DON'T FORGET DENTIST - TUESDAY?? on the back of her hand like a high schooler.

And if all of that wasn't horrible enough, even after almost a year of dating, Beatrice can still roll up the cuffs of her sleeves or adjust her glasses or recite some complicated piece of research, and Ava winds up hopelessly turned on in public on the regular.

It sucks, actually. Ava's life is awful.

None of that is the worst part of it though. The worst part of dating Beatrice, who is sexy and thoughtful and intelligent, is that she's fucking impossible to buy gifts for.

Beatrice doesn't actually want anything is half the problem. She reads a lot of books but she mostly checks them out from the university library. She drinks a lot of tea, but Ava runs a coffee shop. If her girlfriend wants tea, she has a store room full of it. Other than that, she mostly likes crosswords, the gym, her friends, and… well. Ava.

It's making planning for the first birthday Beatrice has had since they've been together exceptionally stressful. Particularly since Ava knows for a fact that Beatrice's parents believed in a "socks and school supplies" style of gift giving which, as far as she's concerned, barely even count.

"What are you getting Bea for her birthday?" she whispers conspiriatorially to Camila one Saturday afternoon in Mary and Shannon's back yard. Beatrice herself is bouncing the baby on her knee and debating some obscure scientific hypothesis - something about mold. Ava is surprised to find she actually has an opinion on the topic. Probably all those mold documentaries.

Camila snorts, "Have you just figured out she's impossible to buy for?"

"Yes," Ava stresses, "C'mon, what are you getting her? And if it's really good I'm stealing your idea."

"Oh no." Camila shakes her head, "It took me all year to think of something. You're on your own."

"Cam." Ava tries her best pleading, puppy dog eyes. They don't work nearly as well on Camila as they do on Beatrice.

"Ava." Camila pats her hand comiseratingly, "Just get her what every self-respecting lesbian wants for their birthday."

Ava frowns, "Power tools?"

Camila smirks, "Strap-on and lingerie."

So that conversation was entirely useless - mostly because Ava already owns more than enough of both those things and they sort of seem like a gift for both of them more than just Beatrice. And more than anything else, Ava wants her girlfriend to feel special. Like she's worth something great that's for her and only her.

Shannon is her next port of call. Ava corners her in the kitchen where she's refilling drinks and, probably pre-warned by Camila, looks entirely unsurprised to be accosted.

"We normally order some of the gross British candy she likes," Shannon informs her. "And before you even try it - she knows that's what we get her every year, so don't try and steal the idea."

Ava groans despondently, "I'm hitting a wall here. What the fuck do you buy for someone who doesn't actually want anything?"

Beatrice does always say that her best friend is unreasonably logical and practical in her advice. For the first time, Ava understands her plight when Shannon shrugs and says, "Have you tried asking her?"

With nothing else to do, Ava tries. Admittedly, she probably picks a bad time to do it: she's shirtless and sitting cross-legged on their bed while Beatrice massages lotion into the new tattoo on her shoulder. Bea's fingers are gentle and thorough and very, extremely distracting.

"Hey," Ava says a little breathlessly, her eyes closed, "What do you want for your birthday?"

Beatrice, because she is Beatrice, says, "You don't have to get me anything."

Typical. This is why dating her is so difficult. "Obviously I do," Ava points out. "For my birthday you took me to a theme park even though it's your idea of actual, literal hell." Bea had even bought and worn a t-shirt that said "I RODE THE BIG ONE". Camila has the photograph framed in her office.

"Not actual, literal hell," Beatrice argues, "I enjoyed that you had fun."

"There's really nothing you want?" Ava asks.

Disappointingly, Beatrice's fingers stop their movement and she puts a cap on the lotion, moving off the bed behind Ava. "Is this what you were whispering with Camila and Shannon about earlier?"

"Maybe. They weren't helpful."

Beatrice's smile is affectionate, "They never are." She leans in to kiss her, her hand landing on Ava's bare shoulder and skirting over her neck, "I'd like to spend my birthday with you. That's all."

Ava wraps her arms aroud her shoulders and sighs, "Dating you is the worst."

"Mm, awful," Beatrice agrees, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her jaw. "Shall we break up?"

"Yep." Ava turns her head to press their lips together again and uses her distraction to lie back, pulling Beatrice down on top of her. "We're over."

(On her birthday, they drink tea in bed and do a crossword puzzle with Ava's head on Beatrice's shoulder. Later, they wander through a museum eating wine gums and holding hands. At Shannon and Mary's place, Beatrice unwraps the cordless drill that Ava bought for her.

"Thank you," she says, "It's just what I wanted.")

(Ava saves the strap-on and lingerie for later.)

#warrior nun #avatrice #extra writing

[yandere-sins]

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days. 

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice. 

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle. 

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words. 

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all. 

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind. 

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it. 

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears. 

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it. 

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity? 

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world. 

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though. 

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" 

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason. 

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal. 

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted. 

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here. 

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy. 

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

#yandere doctor #yandere!doctor #yandere therapist #yandere!therapist #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[nunalastor]

Hello! Continuation of Snow White + Tangled AU (@grimfeywizard suggested "Findling Charlie AU" and I liked it, thank you), set right after Alastor scolds Lucifer.

Two months. It only took Lucifer two months to ruin things with his daughter. Is it pathetic to think that it was an achievement?

He doesn't really understand what he did so wrong, but after that kidnapper, that sinner dared to scold him like that, Lucifer can't help but think that he should reevaluate his interactions with his daughter.

First there were the gifts. He had to make up for so many birthdays, he was determined to keep his goal at least one a day, but he probably overwhelmed his daughter.

Secondly, his daughter's business. He didn't understand, he didn't see the reason why his daughter would want to do that charity work. Of course, his daughter would have a good heart no matter what, but he never saw sinners as anything else than what they already were, absolute monsters, and after his daughter was taken, his opinion only worsened.

Third, their interactions. Since finding her he has treasured every second he has spent with her...but he is ashamed to admit that he doesn't remember much of what they talked about. She was always so cheerful and had a beautiful smile on her face, and he couldn't help but daydream that this was exactly how it should always be. And unfortunately that meant he wasn't really listening to her, too focused on looking for any resemblance between them.

Fourth, and least important, the sinner, the overlord, Alastor, the Radio Demon, or whatever his name was, the damn kidnapper. He was always there, even when he didn't see him, he just knew he was there, whether doing his job as the hotel host or acting as a guard dog, keeping an eye on them from a distance when he was with HIS daughter. Lucifer wanted to enjoy his time with his daughter, but he couldn't help but want to tear off the sinner's head or make some comment to provoke a reaction in the kidnapper, perhaps in this way Lucifer would get the sinner to reveal himself as he really was and his daughter would like to get away from her kidnapper.

He was so wrong.

That day he simply...couldn't wait any longer. He wanted his daughter to come home with him, he wanted to show her her room and help her decorate it. He wanted to get her away from these sinners, from her kidnapper, who were clearly putting ideas in her head just to take advantage of her.

It was exactly what he told her, he just wanted her to realize how bad this whole situation was. But the look in his daughter's eyes, her frown, her smile fading, seeing her taking a step away from him.

He didn't realize when he opened the portal to his palace, he didn't realize that he was trying to reach her. He only realized his words when he had the kidnapper in front of him.

"Don't act like nothing happened, like almost 100 years haven't passed."

"Don't you dare dismiss her ideas, as if she were a girl who knows nothing about life when she formed them by seeing the situation up close."

Lucifer understood the message when the sinner began to recount moments of his life with Charlie. The sinner wanted to say "I am not a good person, but I have been her father."

Lucifer wanted to be angry, he wanted to tell the kidnapper that it was his fault, that he shouldn't have taken his daughter, but he listened, he felt the sincerity in his words. He saw her daughter hug that sinner, and he saw how the sinner eyes and that creepy perpetual smile softened.

"Stop acting like a wallet and start acting like a father."

What could he respond to that? He only takes the things that the sinner gave him. When he crossed the portal to his palace he felt cold, he realized that until that day his daughter had not hugged him.

"Take your time to get to know Charlie."

The first thing he sees is the clothes, the ones she was wearing the last time he saw her. He himself put his daughter in that pretty blue dress, adorned with a duckling on the chest, as if it were swimming in a pond. "Charlie" sewing in white letters just below the duckling.

The second thing he sees is the basket. A black basket with a red blanket. The sinner kept saying that he found Charlie in a basket. He never believed a word, but the basket looks worn, it doesn't look like something someone would acquire just to decorate their lie.

Then look at the books, a photo album and a scrapbook. In both there are brief messages written in crayons next to the photographs or memories. It feels like he's reading a diary. Look carefully at each photograph, moments in his daughter's life, in Charlie's life, her birthdays, places she went ("Aunt Rosie's emporium, the rose bushes of pride, in front of the angelic embassy"), people she met ("Grandpa Zestial is taller than Dad, Aunt Carmilla and her daughters are lovely, Niftty followed Dad home, Dad says Husker can be my pet since he won't give me a puppie"). In the scrapbook were some entries to "Lulu's World" ("Best day, thank you daddy" written in pink crayon. "Quite a pleasure, my deer" written in black pencil and a smiley face drawn on the side), the photo of an expensive diamond necklace, next to a diamond from said necklace glued to the side (the drawing of an angry face in pink crayon, "Brilliant things are not the same as brilliant minds" written in black pencil).

He spends his time carefully studying each page of both books. He thinks he can understand where he was wrong.

He is concentrated, he does not notice the passage of time, and when he reaches the end of both books, when he has already thought of a thousand apologies, he sees a piece of paper in the back of the scrapbook.

It's a note that says "Take care of her" signed by someone he never thought he would hear from again.

Every thought escapes his mind, the only thing he knows now are two things.

First, the sinner, Alastor, told him the truth.

Second, he must contact Roo.

👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #snow white #tangled #tangled au #alastor #radioapple #lucifer

[dr3amofagame]

i feel like ,,, like we talk a lot about how fear-motivated c!dream's actions are, yeah, because you know c!dream is consistently paranoid as fuck and So Much of why he's like that is because he's too scared to think straight and doing batshit insane shit as a result, but at the same time i think that his ... awareness? of this? can be vastly overestimated. c!dream doesn't like being afraid. c!dream is historically Really Fucking Bad at admitting or acknowledging when he's actually terrified of a situation, because that means he's lost control of it. if he's Worried about a situation he's still ahead of it, if he's Cautious or making preparations or getting things in line to make sure that those closest to him don't get in the line of fire he's still retained a degree of control, but all of that isn't quite the same as admitting he's doing anything because he's scared out of his mind, because scared out of his mind isn't exactly a state that c!dream likes to be in.

and this is why c!dream is so adamant on transactional relationships with anyone that he perceives as having a modicum of real power, because being useful to powerful people makes him less of a target because they need something from him. this is why he is so desperate to convince himself that he's on top when it comes to sam, when it comes to quackity, when it comes to wilbur, and he's saying all of this hidden inside his own hell after hiding there for months having barely confronted c!quackity before getting the hell out of dodge. this is why he scrambles to make sure to show that he's not indebted to technoblade and why he puts himself in foolish's service within minutes of meeting him and why a fucking feeling of power against an unarmed man he could've locked in a box with him with a press of a button was enough to get him to shut up and obey no matter how damn unsubstantiated that feeling ended up being because he couldn't bear to lose it, even just within his own head

and so you know, when c!dream calls c!tommy the one thing out of his control as a motivation for exile during the same time he had to fight off multiple coups explicitly with the desire to do away with him so that theyd be able to "rule the server," like. look. c!dream is just so fucking far from a reliable narrator. i'm sure he could give me an itemized list of how c!tommy has ruined his life, i'm sure he can say all these things about how c!tommy causes chaos and causes problems and doesn't listen to anyone, i'm sure he can go on and on and on about how it'd be a different story if c!tommy just listened to him for once. but let's be real, here--as much as he's convinced himself that he's trying to get control of the one thing out of his control, what's closer to reality is that c!tommy was the one thing he did feel like he could control (hello, the discs) when literally everything else wasn't

#c!dream is so damn delusional about his own feelings like #like yeah c!tommy causes problems c!tommy doesn't listen c!tommy was going to pursue the disc war during a time #where c!dream particularly couldn't deal with any more on top of what was already on his plate #but c!tommy (guy who can be made to listen if you just have one of two pieces of vinyl) wasn't the Least Controllable Part Of His Life #like come on now #c!tommy was an easy excuse when he was up to his ears in problems #because anger and annoyance were 20x easier to cope with than existential dread and terror

[misc-obeyme]

i've been.. sick.. auhrgh. (its a simple cold but my body can'teven),, if you still take tiny drabble requests can I request Barb helping mc when they got a cold.. just tooth rotting fluff.. (if you dont/aren't comfortable thats fine :0b)

Oh noooo I hope you're feeling better!! Being sick is the worst...

And I am still doing drabbles, yes! So I may have written a little more than what I consider drabble length but uh... well I can't help myself when it comes to Barb, so.

Anyway, here's a bunch of fluff!

You were sick. You knew it and even though you were trying to hide it, you were sure everybody else knew it, too. You kept your sneezes as quiet as possible, burying your face in your elbow to muffle their sound. You refused to sniffle unless you absolutely had to. And you went into the bathroom to blow your nose in private. You tried everything you could to suppress the shivers that ran through your aching body, even while you kept wiping the sweat off of your forehead.

All day at RAD, you felt like despite the obvious signs, you were doing a decent job of powering through it. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything.

Until you got home, that is.

You were surprised to find Barbatos already in your room.

He smiled at you, but there was a sternness behind it, too. "MC. You are in no condition to continue pushing yourself the way you have been. I have changed your bedsheets and washed your favorite pair of pajamas. Now I must insist that you get changed and get into bed so you can rest."

You frowned and folded your arms. "I don't need to get into bed, I'm fine," you said.

Barbatos walked over to you, removed his glove carefully, and put his hand on your forehead. You shivered a little, partly because you knew he would feel your fever and partly because his touch awakened a burst of butterflies in your stomach.

Barbatos let his hand descend to cup your cheek. "You cannot hide the evidence of your illness from me," he said. His voice was soft, the firmness of moments ago melting away into indulgence. "I know you feel that it is minor, but you will recover quicker if you rest now. If you will allow me to, I will take care of you until you are well again."

The tinge of heat that rose up in your cheeks wasn't something you could blame on your fever. You nodded.

When you were in your pajamas and snug beneath the covers, Barbatos brought you a tray of soup and tea. He sat beside your bed while you ate. On your bedside table he had already placed a supply of tissues and water.

"This is delicious," you said when you were halfway through the soup.

"It is a recipe of my own design," Barbatos said. "It incorporates all of the best nutrients a human would need to fight off a cold. The tea is also a special blend of Devildom herbs. They are safe for human consumption, of course, but they contain just enough magical properties to boost your immune system and speed your recovery."

You smiled at him. It was just like him to be so meticulous in what he served you.

"Isn't it a bad idea for you to be this close to me?" you asked. "What if I'm contagious? I don't want you to get sick, too."

"You needn't worry about me, MC," Barbatos said. "I am not capable of contracting an illness of this nature."

You didn't have the clarity of mind to question that statement further.

When you had finished eating, Barbatos cleared away the tray, then positioned himself back in his chair.

"Are you really just going to sit there all night?" you asked.

"I wish to be here should you need me," he said.

You sighed. You were feeling sleepy. The warmth of the food made you heavy and the softness of your mattress caused your body to relax. Your senses were dulled by the fever still running through you. Your eyelids were slowly descending, but you kept them open. You reached out a hand toward Barbatos and murmured his name.

Barbatos knew what you wanted without you needing to say it. You were still sitting up in bed and after removing his shoes, Barbatos sat beside you. Instead of laying back on your pillows, you rested your head on his chest. His arms enclosed you and your breathing synced with his. You fell asleep listening to the beating of his heart.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#I couldn't resist ending on that super fluffy moment lolol #I can't help myself #anyway I do hope you feel better soon Kian #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me barbatos #om barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #om barbatos x reader #x reader #expressionless-fr #cc mutuals #misc writes

[akookminsupporter]

It's incredible frustrating to see the narrative shift from " mhj doing illegal shit with hybe having literal proof of it" to " apparently hybe is now in a cult and bts is at the center of it because reasons"?? Mhj dropping names left and right and getting their respective fandoms riled up against each other but more importantly against bts because we all know kpop fans don't care about anything else other than bashing on bts :) we have literal fans of disbanded groups crawling out of holes to try to insert themselves into this whole mess just so they can make a tweet about bts when their groups haven't been active for literal years. Saying bts paid their way to the top but then they kept saying bts will never succeed because they can't even afford to pay their producers.. so which is it :) I've met a lot of people in my life but nobody was as fucking stupid, dense, ignorant and sometimes borderline racist as kpop fans. And I know our fandom does the same and I'm not saying we don't have people like that. But holy fuck. Kpop fans are truly some of the stupidest people on earth.

BTS shouldn't even be in this mess in the first place if it wasn't for mhj name dropping them and admitting that shaman story. It took me a long time to realise that it was indeed a true story and not just some fabricated story because holy fuck who in their right mind does that. We literally had everything from accusing them of every single possible thing that is known to men to bighit going to court for them just because some people can't accept the PAST 10 YEARS. Like these hate campaigns are literally insane and if everyone could just take 5 seconds to think about them, we wouldn't be here: I mean imagine if Taylor swift or Beyonce or Coldplay had to go to court to prove that they didn't do illegal shit. But because it's BTS everyone just dismisses it with "oh they are very famous it's to be expected" and moves on. Meanwhile it's not to be expected and it's literally insane that some people are running these hate campaigns against 7 real life existing literal living breathing people and so many people don't even bat an eye.

Apparently the k-gp is siding with mhj rn because the overworked and tired office workers resonate with her sticking up to her boss - while she's also a literal CEO and reportedly has been horrible to her employees? Okay I guess.

I have my own problems with hybe and bighit and bang pd, I have A LOT of problems with them so I don't want to sound like someone who is siding with the company, but holy fuck can we just get back to the main point? Which is mhj doing illegal shit ?? And leave BTS and le sserafim and seventeen and txt and I don't fucking know who else out of this? I'm not even a fan of any of them and I have half of their fandoms blocked for stupid shit but they have nothing to do with this issue and still get dragged into this.

I sincerely hope bighit sues everyone.

THIS IS CRAZY? And why is BTS ALWAYS THE BAD GUY?! WTF?

Im so fucking tired of Kpoppies 🤬🤬🤬🤬

#Anon #ask #bts fan opinions #Preg 196

[starsreminisce]

who do you think could be Elain's potential friends in the future books?

Hard to say because that's a part of SJM's writing where literally anything can happen, but my theory is that since this story is going to take a lot of pages from ACOMAF, there is a chance that we'd see other characters play similar roles as the Inner Circle did for Feyre while Elain processes her mating bond with Lucien.

Mor, I feel strongly, will play a huge part in it. Azriel has Great Gatsby'd her for 500 years, and we see that he was about to shift that focus to Elain. She's always been protective of Elain, and we do see her earnestly try to be friends with Feyre's sisters (say what you want about ACOSF, but at the end of the day, Mor was the one who taught Cassian how to dance to surprise Nesta, and Mor brought Nesta to Emerie no questions after her fight with Cassian and convinced Gwyn to leave the library so she could be there as well). I like to think that Elain will stand up for herself to Azriel after how he has coddled her, and that it'll spark something in Mor to finally speak up as well. Mor has shown to be very perceptive of Azriel's moods and acts with that in mind, so I would hope that seeing Elain would prompt her to do the same. Since Mor has been an Elucien shipper since day one by bringing Lucien to the townhouse, I think there will be a lot of self-reflection these two can offer each other. Mor helped Feyre recognize that being Rhys's mate wasn't that bad, and I can see her asking the same of Elain about Lucien.

Vassa would likely play the role of Amren. I mean, both of them turned into something else that acts as a trump card with a promise of being turned back, and they both exhibit a take-no-crap attitude that offers self-confidence while exhibiting tough love. Amren's motives have been pulled back, leading people to theorize that she's the betrayer, and I see Vassa doing the same thing.

Jurian will play the role of Azriel, where a lot of his history and background is kept vague but traumatic, serving as a basis for his character with a unique sort of relationship with Mor while he looks at a female longingly but doesn't want to make a move until he's sure it'll happen. Feyre had always shown some sort of apprehensiveness towards Azriel. Honestly, considering how much Feyre thought about Azriel's hands, I wonder if Elain would keep wondering how Jurian lived all those centuries as an eye.

Tamlin, funny enough, will play the role of Cassian, but their dynamic would be switched up. Cassian helped Feyre process a lot of her feelings through action, and I think Elain would be instrumental in bringing Tamlin back to the High Lord he was. Elain possesses understanding, and she has benefited the most from Tamlin's generosity when he took Feyre away, so I hope she can bring that perspective to him, especially when Tamlin shows he reveres humans and Papa Archie is a testament to that resilience. I also think that we will see more insight into his parents' bond and offer reflection for Elain, since theirs was also considered ill-matched.

Eris would probably act more like Tarquin, and Elain can see what Eris is trying to do for the sake of his court. Nuan can be like Cresseida if she and Lucien are as close as they are.

And, though not strictly ACOMAF, I do see a mirroring of Elain getting closer to Helion and LoA as Lucien did to Papa Archeron. Helion could provide Elain with insight into how a rejected male feels, bringing an understanding of what Lucien will go through if she were to reject the bond, as LoA on how she navigates through it.

That's my initial thoughts, but like I said, friendships are important to SJM's characters. Emerie was introduced in ACOSAF, and Gwyn a book later, so we might get some fresh characters as well.

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #morrigan acotar #pro morrigan #asks

[ahlovelightaflame]

The Perfect Dog ~ *Kim Mingyu*

Summary: Mingyu has made it very clear he wants a dog. You've told him only when the two of you have the time to take care of one. Mingyu decides you need some persuasion of the four-legged and fluffy kind...

Pairing: Kim Mingyu X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Oneshot

Word Count: 1754

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

Taglist: @samepoisonsamevine @kpop-will-kill-me

Mingyu has a problem and he has not been very quiet about it. You see, your boyfriend wants a dog. And he wants one badly. Every chance he gets, he lets you know how much he wants a dog. You'll find pamphlets on how to care for certain breeds of dogs everywhere in your apartment and he'll send you dogs in shelters waiting to be adopted, telling you just how cute they are. It seemed you couldn't go twenty minutes without being reminded how much your boyfriend wants a dog.

And it's not like you didn't want a dog. On the contrary, you also thought having a dog around would be a good idea. It's just, you both were very busy and a pet is a major responsibility. You weren't sure you'd have time for the poor thing or the money to care for one. There were more factors you needed to consider before you even considered adopting a dog. So unfortunately, you always had to play the bad guy and tell him you couldn't get a dog right now. Thankfully he understood, but you could see the sadness cloud his eyes every time and it made your heart sick.

One afternoon, Mingyu walked into your apartment kitchen while you were making lunch and told you he was taking you out. This wasn't the first time he brought up a spontaneous outing and you were more than happy to go with him. However, you were even more surprised when you saw the destination.

"Mingyu, why are we at a dog park?" You asked, slowing to a stop outside of the gate of the park.

He turned to you and squeezed your hands. "You know I'm not kidding when I say I want a dog and I know you want one too. I think it's time we get serious about trying to find the perfect dog and make this a family of three now."

You sighed. "Mingyu, I know you want a dog more than anything else in the world right now. But do we have the time for one? Do we have the money? I want to make sure that getting a dog right now is the best thing for us."

"It is!" He assured you. "You just got that promotion at work, so the money is all taken care of. And my boss is adjusting my work schedule so that we can spend more time with the dog. I promise, I've thought about this just as much as you have. I want to give this dog, whatever dog we get, the best life possible."

You had to admit, his enthusiasm was contagious. So with a sigh, you nodded. "Fine, okay. We'll seriously think about getting a dog. But that still doesn't explain the dog park."

"Sure it does!" He turned to look at all the dogs playing with a bright smile. If he was a dog, you knew his tail would be wagging with excitement. No wonder he wanted a dog so badly. "It's hard to determine what dog is best for us based on pamphlets. We need to see how they interact with other people. This is the best way to do it! We'll find a breed from this park and then we'll look around at shelters until we find the perfect one."

"Mingyu, dear, I love you but this plan is crazy."

He pouted, but you could tell it wasn't serious. "It may be crazy but it just might work! Please, just give it a chance? For me? Please?"

You sighed. "Alright. For you, we'll try your plan."

Instantly he perked up and escorted you closer to the park. There were two sections in the dog park: one for smaller dogs and another for bigger dogs. You appreciated that the two sides were partitioned by a fence, as you would hate to see a little Yorkshire terrier get pummeled by a German shepherd. Mingyu took you to the small dog section first, where you watched shih tzus, pomeranians, chihuahuas, and bichon frisés play with each other. 

"Aww." You couldn't help yourself. They were all so adorable! It felt like you could pick one up and put it in your pocket!

Mingyu grinned and nudged your shoulder. "See, I knew you'd like it here."

You rolled your eyes. "This still doesn't mean anything, Gyu. I just think the dogs are cute."

He nods before gesturing to the dogs before you. "Which one do you like the most?"

You surveyed all of the different breeds before you before pointing to two of them. "I think that little white one over there is sweet and that other bi-color one is very adorable!"

Again, he nodded. "So a point for the maltese and the Cavalier King Charles spaniel."

Your jaw dropped a little at his words. "You know what breeds they are just by looking at them?"

"I've done a lot of research." Mingyu admits as he dips his head in embarrassment. "I could name any breed you point out."

"Is that a fact?" Your voice has a hint of a challenge to it and he perks up again at the sound.

"It is. I'll prove it."

"Alright." You glance over at the park again before pointing to another dog. "What breed is that one?"

Mingyu laughs. "That's a dachshund. C'mon! Give me a challenge!"

You laugh with him. "Alright, alright. How about... that one?"

"Ah, now that's a challenge." He stared at the little dog for a moment, and you could see him mentally go through all of the different dog breeds in his head. "That is a havanese."

"It looks a lot like the Maltese."

He nods. "I know. That's why I said it was a challenge."

You laugh before pointing to a different dog. "And what about that one?"

"Now that's a papillon."

"Butterfly?"

Mingyu holds his hands up in surrender. "Hey I didn't name it! The person who did named the breed for how their fringed ears look like butterflies."

You make a face. "I don't see it."

"Neither do I."

You shrug before looking back at the little dogs out in the park. "Well, they're all pretty cute, really."

His eyes narrowed at you. "I'm sensing a “but” is coming."

Turning to look at him again, you bite your lip. "But I don't think I want a small dog. I don't know. They look so fragile! I want a dog that I am not so afraid I'm going to break just by holding it wrong, you know?"

He nods. "I was kind of hoping you'd say that. I also want a bigger dog. One that I can rough house with."

You shake your head. "If that's what you want, fine, but you are not rough-housing in the apartment! We have breakables!"

"I promise to be careful!"

"You say that every time and then you break something!" You sigh. "But I trust you to at least attempt to be careful."

"Thank you my dear."

You scoff. "Quit trying to butter me up. Let's go see what kind of bigger dogs there are for us that might be worth adopting."

He nods and you both walk away from the small dog session to the bigger dog section. There you see huge dogs running through the park, chasing each other or some kind of toy. You smiled. Already you liked this idea more than a smaller dog. Something big with lots of energy and lots of love to give, that's what you were looking for. And who knows, if the dog you selected was big enough, they could also double as a pillow, which would be nice.

"See any breed you like?" Mingyu asked, which snapped you out of your thoughts.

You looked at all of the different breeds before you before you faced him again. "What about you?"

He furrowed his brows in confusion to your question. "What about me?"

"You're always asking me what breed I like. What breed do you like?"

"Oh." He seemed taken aback by your question before he answered it. "Well, I like the golden retrievers, Bernese mountain dogs, samoyeds, Alaskan malamutes, and labrador retrievers."

You nod and look back at the park. "So point those breeds out to me and I'll tell you which ones I like."

"Okay."

He pointed out each specific breed as he spotted them. You nodded and made mental notes about the temperaments for each dog as they played. You could see he definitely liked playful and cuddly dogs. And it made you happy to know that he liked the same kind of dogs you did. It made you even more excited to adopt a dog with Mingyu.

"So? What do you think?"

You nod. "I think we should start looking at what kind of shelter dogs match our tastes."

"Really?" He grinned so big, it almost looked like his face would split in two from how big his smile was. "You're really ready to adopt a dog with me?"

You nod and take his hands in yours. "I think we're finally ready for this. And I think the dog we should be looking for is a golden retriever. I mean, you remind me so much of that breed already. I think it would be absolutely adorable if we brought home a golden and I could say I have two golden retrievers at home!"

He blushed at your words. "Really?"

You giggled and kissed his cheek. "Yes really!"

"Well then a golden retriever we shall get!" He announced. "And I know the perfect one! At the shelter across town, they have this sweetest golden retriever named Maisie who is only a year and a half! She'd be perfect for the two of us!"

You make a face, although you can't help the smile that is threatening to tug at the corners of your mouth. "And why do you have that profile on standby?"

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I may or may not have memorized the dogs I thought we should adopt."

You sigh and shake your head before patting him on the cheek. "Why am I not surprised? You're so cute, Gyu! It's why I love you."

"I love you too." He kisses the top of your forehead before murmuring. "So... can we go?"

"Wha- right now?"

"Please?! I want to play with her and hopefully adopt her before someone else does!" He begged, his hands clasped together.

You chuckle and nod. "Alright. Let's go meet Maisie."

#Seventeen #Seventeen Fanfiction #Seventeen Oneshot #KPop #KPop Fanfiction #KPop Oneshot #Carat #Kim Mingyu #Kim Mingyu X Reader #Kim Mingyu Fanfiction #Kim Mingyu Oneshot #Kim Mingyu Fluff #Mingyu #Mingyu X Reader #Mingyu Fanfiction #Mingyu Oneshot #Mingyu Fluff #Oneshot #Fluff

[arson4kids]

𝒜𝓇𝓂𝓎 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝓈 ⋆

warnings: sorry y'all this fic is ANGSTY, multi-part series (it's gonna get better trust), bad writing (sue me), mentions of heavy drinking & (light) drug use, mentions of depression, mentions of blood & death, PTSD/panic attacks, ellie needs a hug, more closed off ellie and reader, ellie and reader were never really friends, reader isn't masc or fem (sorry), eventual smut. NOT PROOF READ.

wc: 1620

approx. read time: 12.5 minutes

a/n: sorry i disappeared to those who follow me/read my fics on occasion. i've had zero motivation to write lately. this is more to set the stage for the rest of the series so there isn't much dialog. go easy on me yall i barely write stuff on here.

synopsis: Ellie, having been gone in Santa Barbara for so long, doesn't get the warm welcome she was hoping for. In fact, she's become more of a stranger in her own home that she wonders if she should have never come back. Without means of escape from this new hellish reality...she turns to you for help.

The day she came back couldn't have gone worse. Everyone thought she had died, and you were starting to wonder if people wished she did. Her arrival into Jackson was met with nothing but hostility. Dina refused to speak to her, let alone look at her. The sight was surely something to behold. A once beloved member of the small survivor's community now shunned and shut out. You couldn't say you were surprised.

The day she had left Dina had taken up her things and her young son and marched right back into Jackson. She wasted no time telling everyone exactly what happened. It was safe to say Tommy and Maria didn't last long after that. People stopped regarding Ellie as a mourning girl trying to find closure. She was looking more and more like a monster in the eyes of the town the longer time passed. People began to blame her for the death of Jesse and Dina's growing depression. Some people even came to blame her for Tommy and Maria's separation. The town was already in shambles before she came back. And it was safe to say her return didn't help.

Now, you couldn't say you knew her personally. Sure the two of you hung out and got drunk on occasion after patrols. She would invite you over every once in a while to watch cheesy action movies with her. You'd help her in the stables when she needed it. You considered her a friend of sorts, but you two weren't close by any means. You couldn't even recall her favorite colour. But that didn't prove to soothe the dull ache in your chest as Maria yelled at her openly out in the town's square. You swore you saw a tear drop from the auburn haired girl's eye. She had gone through so much, but who were you to comfort her? That wouldn't get you anywhere. Once Maria finished speaking Ellie held her head up despite everything, marching past you and the others without a second glance. You didn't know how long this would last. Hopefully not long.

.

.

.

Despite her efforts, she couldn't do anything anymore. She was forbidden to go on patrols. Maria even refused to put her on farming rotation. She was forced to live fully isolated from everybody. Even when she did leave the house, nobody treated her like they once did. A passing glance from an older woman. Children bowing their heads and diverting their gazes. Dina pulled her curtains shut when Ellie so much as looked in her direction. Even Kat was avoiding her like the plague. So when you were the last one on the block that wasn't turning and running...you gave her a small smile.

At first, she didn't seem to care. She'd bow her head or give you a small nod. Possibly a passing grunt. But as time went on she began warming up to you. Maybe it was because she had no one else. Maybe she was desperate. Whatever it was, you were all she had. Well, not really. All she had in her mind was her whiskey and her thoughts to keep her company. You could smell it on her breath when she walked by. You could sometimes even pick up traces of...weed? Was she ever sober anymore? You doubted it. You almost couldn't blame her.

The days began to fade into weeks and Ellie got no better. She barely left the house anymore, when she did it was merely to get wasted and go back home. You could feel your stomach twisting into knots whenever you saw her stumbling back out onto the streets some afternoons after your patrol. She barely looked like herself anymore. She was thin. Her once fair skin now holding a sickly glow to it. The circles under her eyes only got darker the more she drank. She'd surely drink herself straight to the grave at this rate. Could she even care? You couldn't be sure.

Despite your friend urging you not to, you followed the pale girl into the bar one evening. You had to see the end of this. You couldn't give a flying fuck what people thought about you after this. You weren't going to sit by and watch this once spirited girl drink herself away just because everyone else could. How could you live with yourself if you did?

It didn't take you very long to spot her once you were in there. The bar was mostly empty as it usually was on weekdays, only a few drunk men were silently slumped over tables or aimlessly chatting each other up. The dull buzz of conversation didn't distract you as you watched her sitting alone in the back corner. Her hand on her cheek, she sat silently as she tried to eat some crackers, an already empty glass of whiskey by her left hand. The sight was so pitiful in itself you almost couldn't watch.

Taking a deep breath and forcing all your doubts aside, you slowly approached her table. Her eyes were quick to follow you even before you got close enough to speak. It made you uneasy as you took the seat across from her. She furrowed her brow, maybe out of confusion. You couldn't tell. You quickly cleared your throat to hopefully ease the sudden tension between the two of you. It hung heavily in the air, much like the smoke of an old cigar. Overbearing. Suffocating.

"Hey." You finally forced yourself to choke out, trying to play it cool. Ellie set her cracker aside, meeting your gaze.

"Hey." She replied, her tone much like yours. Unsure. You felt bad for her. How could you not.

"How's it going?" You asked, as if it wasn't already obvious. You wanted to kick yourself as you heard the auburn haired girl scoff and straighten herself out in her chair. You half expected her to yell at you and tell you to leave her alone so her response caught you off guard.

"Y'know. Just great." She laughed bitterly. Your heart swelled with guilt. Maybe this went deeper than you thought.

"Do you maybe want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

You thought a moment before responding, swallowing a lump in your throat you didn't even know was there.

"What happened...out there."

Ellie furrowed her brow as you spoke. You could hear her tapping her heal against the cool wooden floor of the bar.

"You mean in Santa Barbara?" Ellie simply shook her head.

"I don't think so."

Her response, while you were slightly disappointed, was expected. You didn't expect her to open up to you.

"Well is there anything I can do so you don't have to do this?" You asked, gesturing to the empty glass of whiskey. Ellie glanced up at you. She almost seemed surprised you brought it up. A nervous pit formed in your stomach as the silence returned. Her sudden shift in attitude told you all that you had to know. She couldn't trust you. And you wouldn't force her to. You stood to leave and almost yelped when you felt a sudden warm hand clasp around your wrist. You were saddened when you met Ellie's near desperate gaze when you looked back over to her. Her grip on you tightened as her eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

"Please..." She nearly whimpered. "Don't leave me alone."

You never expected this from her, considering how aloof she was normally. You gently loosened her grip on your arm.

"Do you want to come home with me? We can watch Jurassic Park or some shit."

.

.

.

When you invited her back to watch a movie, you didn't think it'd end with her sobbing into your chest as she spilled all the gruesome details of the past few years to you. She told you about Joel's death and how that led to the events of Seattle, her time at the farm with Dina and how she thought she would stay there forever before she left for Santa Barbara. With each of her hot tears against your skin brought a new story from her. You almost thought she was having a panic attack thanks to how much and how long she had been sobbing. You didn't have the heart to stop her. All you could do is hold her against you and hope that you were providing her with a small amount of comfort just by being there. You would have sat up with her all night if she asked you to. You almost did until the poor girl ended up falling asleep right in your arms from sheer exhaustion. You didn't have the heart to push her away.

.

.

.

From that night on, Ellie stayed with you. She had made herself at home slowly in your guest bedroom. She finally started to heal. People were starting to lessen up on her, even if it was only slightly. That almost didn't matter to her anymore thanks to your ongoing support. She even had the chance to formally talk to Dina and see her son again. All of this started to lull Ellie into a form of peace she never thought she'd reach again. It brought you peace as well.

While all of this was going on, you couldn't help but notice how much closer Ellie was getting to you. It started with friendly greetings and holding your hand to her talking to you late at night while she played with your hair. You were stating to question what she meant to you. What you meant to her. You almost felt guilty for thinking you were anything more than just a friend to her. But, only time could tell, right?

#Spotify #multiple part series #ellie x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x you #idk what else to tag #can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars #? i guess #angst with a happy ending

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 20

alright guys hit the showers. or the bathhouse. wait hold on i left my computer boy in there. guys wait don't open that

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

wow i wrote 10 pages for chapter 19 but i better take it easy so i dont burn out (writes 11 pages for chapter 20) anyway guess who's taking a break after this chapter

this is the one with togiri development but they're extremely not normal about it so it's almost blink-and-you-miss-it

@digitaldollsworld <- betapilled readmaxxer

Content warning tags: mild violence and injury description (non-graphic), description of depression symptoms and nausea, mild mention of eating disorder

< previous - from start - next >

He’s not sure how long he sleeps for, only that he wakes up still-dressed and laid out across his bed, his mouth dry and head groggy, the bedroom lights still on. As he checks his handbook’s clock, he finds he’s entirely missed Monokuma’s morning announcement, which is a good thing; he had no desire to listen to that bear’s irritating voice, especially not today.

But, he doesn’t have much desire to do anything else either. The library no longer feels like the safe haven it used to be, and he had no interest in going anywhere else and running into anyone else, when the atmosphere was still thick with the deaths of two people, and pity that Byakuya didn’t want. Much less, the possibility of encountering Makoto, who was the last person he wanted to see, so to speak.

He lies in bed a moment longer, unwilling to move. Everything feels sluggish, like he’s moving underwater; even his head feels stuffed full with cotton and wool. It's a strange, unfamiliar feeling, and unpleasant, too.

Grief. He thinks blearily at first, before rolling his own eyes at the thought, and pushing himself up with a grunt. Such dramatics didn’t suit him. He wasn't the kind of person to spare such theatrics, regardless of his circumstances.

He showers, brushes his teeth, and half-debates whether to try his hand at shaving before ultimately deciding against it (it didn’t feel like his stubble should be that noticeable, yet). He forgoes changing into a clean uniform in favor of his pajamas, and collapses back into bed with a sigh, hand searching immediately for his handbook - but finding nothing but empty sheets.

“Hello, there!”

He jerks upright immediately. Standing in the foot of his bed is Monokuma, rocking back and forth and looking as innocent as could be. Or, would be, if not for the handbook clutched in its paw.

Byakuya dives for it without thinking, but his perception is off, and he crashes to the carpet instead with a grunt. Monokuma sidesteps him casually with a laugh. “Whoa, there! Easy partner, don’t wanna hurt yourself!” It dances around his head, infuriatingly out of reach. “Didja miss me that bad? If you wanna hug, you can just say so!”

“Give it back,” He snarls, as he picks himself up. He’s in no mood for its jokes. “Give me back my handbook!”

“Your handbook? My my, but these were all mine first, weren’t they?” It shakes a paw disapprovingly in his face. “I just need to check it real quick, after all. I didn’t expect Mister Fujisaki to go and Macgyver anything onto here, so if it’s anything malicious, I’ll have to do a quick wipey-wipe!” Byakuya makes another lunge, and it juggles the handbook out of his reach, hopping backwards with a mad cackle. “After all, if it’s anything naughty, there’s no way I can let it fall in the hands of my precious students!”

“You miserable little-” Byakuya tries to rise to his feet quickly, but he hasn’t eaten since yesterday, and a bout of dizziness crashes into him like a wave. He sways and braces himself against the mattress, one arm still reaching out clumsily to try and grab at Monokuma.

But the bear has already flipped it open, scrolling so quickly through the screens that the little automated voice can’t keep up, the words blurring together. “Schoo-Stu-App-Day-”

“Whoops, too far.” It scrolls back. “Applications, that’s what we wanna see. And, what’s this?”

Byakuya feels his blood run cold. There was only one application there, the one Chihiro had downloaded for him. Alter Ego. The app was inconspicuously named ‘Test_App’ in the interface itself, but if Monokuma opened it-

“Well well well. Let’s take a look-see!” It crows, and Byakuya’s protest is frozen in his throat. He shuts his eyes, expecting to hear Chihiro’s voice-

“Black to E5.”

He opens his eyes again. What?

Monokuma also seems confused, tilting its head as it stares at the little screen. “What’s this? A chessboard?”

“Black to E5,” Alter Ego repeats, so digitized and monotone it was nearly unrecognizable. “Would you like to review the board?”

“Is this all it is? A chess game?” Monokuma sounds almost disappointed. Byakuya, seeing his chance, surges forward, snatching the handbook back and snapping it closed. He presses it to his chest, feeling his heart thud beneath it.

“Is that a problem?” He demands, and Monokuma shrugs, shaking its head.

“I guess not, but I thought it’d be something spicy, y’know? You’re a growing boy, after all!” It reaches out to pat Byakuya’s knee, and he steps backwards just in time, lip curling in disgust. “Aw, don’t act so mean to your headmaster, you’ll give me a complex!”

“Get out.” He hisses. “You got what you came here for. Leave.”

“Oh, alright…you sure know how to make a bear feel glum...” It sighs, kicking at the carpet, before it makes its way to the door. “Take care, now! Make sure you eat something, y’hear? I don’t want any hunger strikes in this house! And-”

No sooner had Monokuma crossed the threshold, had Byakuya jumped up, and sped forward to slam the door with a resounding bang. He takes a moment to breathe, leaning against the wall, legs suddenly weak.

How the hell did that thing get inside my room? He was sure he had locked the door - or he should have locked it, at least. Looking back, he actually can’t remember, but he double and triple-checks now, suddenly paranoid. He also flips off the light for good measure, leaving the room in complete darkness before he crawls back into bed.

Beneath the covers, he opens his handbook, and squints until he can make out the pale green shape of Alter Ego’s face on the screen.

“Is he gone?” Alter Ego asks, and Byakuya relaxes, the tension flooding out of his shoulders.

“Yes.” He whispers back.

Alter Ego makes a sound like a sigh of relief. “I’m glad. I got so scared when he grabbed me.” And its voice sounds so much like Chihiro's that Byakuya feels a strange pressure behind his eyes.

“How did you know?” He asks. “That Monokuma was there?”

“I could hear it. Through the microphone.” He reaches up and touches the tiny pinprick grid of the speaker, and feels the buzz of Alter Ego’s voice against his fingertips. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me. I think he would’ve just deleted you as punishment for me anyway.” He sighs. And then frowns, as a thought comes to mind. “If you could eavesdrop from the microphone this whole time, then you already know…?”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. But he doesn’t need to. Alter Ego makes a quiet noise like a sigh. “Yes, I know.”

“I’m sorry.” And he’s surprised to find that he means it genuinely, and almost laughs at himself. Heartfelt apologies were rare for him, and here he was offering one to an AI, of all things.

“It’s okay. He knew it might happen,” Alter Ego replies, and he imagines it might be smiling, a sad, helpless smile. “There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“No, I suppose not.”

They’re quiet for a moment. In the darkness, Byakuya can almost pretend that he’s normal - unable to see in the dark as everyone else is. But it’s also the middle of the day, and he’s too restless to sleep, too uneasy to go outside. Too tired to mourn. Too mournful to do anything else.

“Can you really play chess?” He asks instead.

“I can, along with checkers, shogi, and backgammon and more.” 

“Play a round of chess with me, then. I’m bored.”

“Okay!” Immediately, the pale blot of their face on the screen is replaced by a square. “I’ll play black. What’s your first move?”

He smiles to himself. “E2, pawn to E4.”

—

Hours pass like that. He plays chess with Alter Ego (three wins, four losses, and seven draws), and a few rounds of shogi (one win, one loss, and two draws) for good measure. And then, huddled over his desk with his back facing the camera, he pores over lines of Dostoevsky and Nietzsche until he feels too sick from staring at the letters to even hear Alter Ego’s voice, reciting the words aloud beneath a dim ringing in his ears.

By the time he’s pulled out of his concentration by the sound of a knocking at his door, he’s too nauseous to feel hungry, but his throat is stinging from lack of water and there’s a slight pulsing in his head. His immediate first reaction is to ignore it, but that proves to be impossible; whoever was on the other side was clearly, very persistent, and had nothing better to do.

Even so, he lasts a full five minutes until he finally gets up to answer, irritated beyond measure. If it was Makoto, he was going to slam it closed again, reasons be damned. He didn’t even want to think about the other boy, lest he get pointlessly enraged about it.

But instead of brown hair, he’s met with pale white. Kirigiri stands at his threshold, hand partially raised, halfway through knocking, and they stare at each for a moment in silence, as if both surprised to find the other person there.

And then he slams the door shut in her face. Or tries to - instead of the satisfying bang of wood meeting wood, there’s a sickly crunch, and then she’s wrenching the door open, heedless of the way her fingers had just been crushed in the jamb. He almost winces in sympathy, but she’s too busy pushing her way in to offer much room for condolences.

“What is wrong with you?!” He demands, trying not to be too obviously perturbed by her lack of reaction; he doesn’t think he even heard her wince. She ignores him for a moment, attention focused on her hand, as she experimentally clenches and unclenches her fingers. Apparently they’re not broken, or maybe, she just had high pain tolerance. Or she was more insane than he thought.

“We’re calling a group meeting,” She replies, without so much as a waver. “Come to the bathhouse.”

“And why should I?”

“It’s important. I can drag you there if I have to.” It doesn’t sound like an empty threat either. Somehow, she seems impatient, though he’s not sure how he can tell; and it wasn’t just because she shoved her hand into the door in order to deliver the message.

He weighs his options - on one hand, he has no desire to speak with anyone, much less Makoto, who was bound to be there. On the other hand, he didn’t exactly have anything in the way of provisions in his room, and though he was still a little too light-headed to consider eating, it’d be embarrassing to collapse from dehydration at this point. That, and it seemed that Kirigiri had no intention of letting him refuse.

“...I’m going to get dressed first.” He says shortly. If he’s going to have to meet them, it will not be while he’s still in his pajamas.

“Hurry up.”

She makes no move to leave, and he realizes with no small amount of annoyance that she was making sure he wouldn’t be able to run or shut her out again. Somewhat affronted by this, and now wanting to go even less, he grabs a clean set of clothes from his dresser and goes to the bathroom.

Routine carries his hands through the motions, so he manages it relatively quick, but it’s only after he’s applying the finishing touches, that he nearly pokes himself in the eye as he reaches to adjust his glasses. It’s a strange sensation, feeling the bridge of his nose and finding nothing, and even though his original prescription was low and they were more an accessory than anything, he feels a little like he’s lost a limb.

She’s still there when he emerges, though now standing over his desk, bent over the books he has open. She looks up as he approaches, one hand halfway through turning a page.

“What?” He asks, chin turned up in challenge.

“Nothing. Just looking.” She closes the book, and he realizes, scandalized, that it was the one he was reading earlier. It was going to take him ages to find that page again. “You have predictable tastes.”

“Shut up. Are we going or not?”

He follows her out, his hands twitching all the while, smoothing down his shirt, his lapels, his sleeves. Making sure his buttons were lined up, that his shirt was tucked; he hadn’t had the time to put on garters or even try a hand at his tie, and he feels underdressed.

“You’re fine.” Kirigiri says suddenly, and he freezes, one hand resting on the button of a shirt cuff. “Stop fidgeting.”

He scowls. He was walking behind her, so what would she know. “I’m not fidgeting.”

“I can hear you fidgeting. Your buttons are fine.”

“Oh, can you hear my buttons now too?”

It’s a petty, childish remark, one that he can’t stop himself from muttering before he can even reconsider it. She stops at that, halting so suddenly in the middle of the hallway that he almost walks right into her, and turns around to face him, her head moving in a slow tilt from up to down - scanning me, he realizes - before she says: “You look fine. Are you quite done?”

She was checking for me. He’s not sure if he should feel grateful for the courtesy or irritated by her lack of grace. “Did the sound bother you that much?” He asks instead, patting down the front of his shirt one last time.

“...It wasn’t the sound.” Is all she says, with a sort of finality that indicated that no other questions would be answered on the topic.

They enter the bathhouse, and find everyone else there, gathered in a sort of semi-circle around the wall of lockers. Asahina and Ogami, predictably, are huddled close together on one of the benches. Celeste and Yamada sit on another bench, one fidgeting uneasily, the other sitting regally with legs crossed and hands folded. Hagakure is standing next to Owada, who doesn’t even stir when they walk in, and who Byakuya ignores in turn, gaze sliding past him uncomfortably. Fukawa hangs near the back of the group, and twitches when she sees him, though makes no move to approach.

Makoto is leaning against the lockers with hands tucked in his pockets. He looks up as they enter, and stands up straight immediately. “Ah-”

“We’re all here?” Kirigiri cuts him off, casting a glance around the room. “Good. Can you catch him up, Hina?”

“R-right,” Asahina looks between Kirigiri and Byakuya, then at Makoto, and seems to hesitate for a moment. “Um, so…last night, I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d go to the kitchen to get food. But on the way there, I heard something coming from the bathhouse - like, a weird, machine-y kind of sound? - and when I went in…”

She peters off. He raises an eyebrow, “And?”

“Uh, it’s going to sound a little ridiculous...”

“You act like nothing else is ridiculous about this situation. Get on with it.”

Her face flushes dark, embarrassed. He gets the feeling that Ogami is glaring at him, but since he can’t see it - and has no reason to act like he can see it, anyways - he ignores it easily.

“Right. I saw a ghost - I know it was a ghost,” She adds defensively, as Byakuya was preparing to scoff and roll his eyes. “It was glowing green and floating in front of the lockers, and…and it had Chihiro’s face.”

“That’s-” not a ghost, he’s about to say, but he stops, suddenly uncertain. The bathhouse had no cameras, but he wasn’t sure if Alter Ego’s existence should be revealed here, now, to everyone, especially given some of the individuals present. His hand reaches into his jacket pocket, where his handbook was. “That’s…and you’re sure it was Chihiro?”

She seems taken aback by how seriously he asks that, and nods quickly. “I know it was Chihiro! It was his face and everything!” She points in front of her, at a locker less than two meters away from her eye level. The exact locker, Byakuya thinks, where Chihiro was keeping his laptop.

He wonders if Makoto was thinking this too.

“...I highly doubt the existence of ghosts,” He sighs. There was no point trying to hide it with Kirigiri around, and better to do it now than later. “Instead of being in front of the locker, I think the thing you saw was inside it.”

He turns to the locker Asahina had indicated, and moves to unlock it - before realizing he doesn’t know how. If it was unlocked by key, he didn’t have it, and if by code it was even more impossible. But Kirigiri steps forward, nudging his arm out of the way, and the locker door clicks open under her hand.

Sitting inside is the laptop, its screen dark. After a moment, it hums to life, flickering green. A round, pale shape forms, and behind him, Byakuya hears someone gasp.

“Hello,” Alter Ego says, and their voice is clearer through the computer than through Byakuya’s handbook, and sounds so similar to Chihiro’s that it’s almost jarring. “It’s nice to meet everyone!”

Hagakure shrieks, arms thrown up in fear. “A g-g-gh-!”

“It’s not a ghost,” Byakuya cuts him off sharply. “It’s a program.”

“Yes, and it looks like something Chihiro made.” Kirigiri touches the keys lightly. “This computer was the broken one from the library. And the fact that it was placed here, out of sight of the mastermind, means that it was meant for us.”

“So, this is what I saw last night…” Asahina’s tone doesn’t sound uneasy anymore, but wondering, and she raises a tentative hand as the little Chihiro in the screen waves at her. “But, what is it?”

“You just asked, ‘what is it,’ right?” Alter Ego says, almost teasingly, making her and several others jump. “The short answer is, I’m an AI program based on as much of Chihiro Fujisaki’s personality, memories, and thoughts as he managed to transcribe into data…um, but if it’s easier for you, you can call me Alter Ego. I was made to try and break through the firewall around the school’s network and to analyze the files on this computer, but it’s been taking a long time. I’m only about 25% done.”

25%? That was already more than Byakuya expected, and he feels a thin, inexplicable strum of pride.

“Crazy…hey, isn’t this crazy?” Yamada is up from his seat, and sitting as close as he can, crouching on his heels to be eye-level with the screen. “This is so- so totally sci-fi, right? Isn’t the genre wrong?” He sounds excited, overly so, and his breath is a little fevered and fast. “Hey, Chihiro! Can you hear us?”

Alter Ego doesn’t respond. Byakuya suddenly remembers the night that Chihiro was installing the application on his handbook and how Alter Ego only ever responded after the sound of keystrokes. “You have to type what you want to say in order for it to respond.”

“Move.” Yamada scurries out of Kirigiri’s way, as she drops to a crouch in front of the open locker. There’s the sound of fingers clicking over keys, and then -

“It will take me a while longer to finish analyzing everything,” Alter Ego says aloud, a little sheepishly. “I can definitely finish it though! Actually, progress is moving faster than originally predicted, so you can leave it to me!”

“My, how dependable.” Celeste remarks. “It seems that Chihiro has left us an invaluable gift, does it not?”

“It’s…pretty crazy,” Hagakure agrees, scratching his head. “Wait, uh - can Alter Ego get online? Like can we call for help from outside?”

“Hmm, probably not.” Asahina hums in thought, crossing her arms. “We’re in a bathhouse after all.”

“Then, if we take it outside of here-”

“No.” Kirigiri says flatly. “We can’t take any risks. Taking it outside might mean that the mastermind will discover it.”

“Yeah, but, I think it’s better to get help sooner than later. You know…” He pauses for a moment, tilting his head pointedly towards Owada. Throughout this whole time, the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader had been as still as a mouse, face turned downwards towards the floor. Hagakure clears his throat awkwardly. “Can’t we try it?”

There’s a sharp tap as Celeste laces her fingers, rings clicking together. “As stated earlier. We cannot take unnecessary risks. And we are not in the position to be pointlessly altruistic.” Her tone is casual, but Hagakure seems to shrink away from her, defeated.

“I…okay. Fine, sure.” He scratches at his head, then pauses. “Ah, wait a minute. Does Alter Ego, like, know…?

His question peters off, but the implication hangs over them like a heavy fog. Byakuya watches them cast uneasy glances at each other, then back to Alter Ego, as if trying to figure out who should break the news.

“It already knows.” He mutters. He’s not trying to be loud, but in the silence everyone could hear it anyways.

“...Not to say you’re lying or anything, Byakuya, but how do you…?”

Instead of answering Hagakure out loud, he reaches into his jacket pocket and withdraws the handbook, flipping it open and holding it up, screen facing them. Someone gasps.

“Yes,” Alter Ego confirms their unspoken question, and its voice echoes uncannily, doubled between the laptop and his handbook. “Master made it so I can be accessed through Byakuya’s handbook, so I could assist him with his visual impairment. I can also access the microphone function on this device, so I was able…I was able to overhear what happened”

The little, buzzing voice trails off sadly, and Byakuya suddenly feels uncomfortable, as the room grows all the more dreary. He clicks the handbook closed, suddenly irritated.

“That should explain it.“ He sighs. “Chihiro built Alter Ego to try and help find a way out of here, and at the same time gave me access so I could be self-sufficient. That’s the extent of my knowledge about it.”

He looks up and finds nearly all of them with their faces tilted towards him, and shifts, disconcerted. “What?”

“Nothing…it’s just kinda sweet that you’re, like, telling us this yourself.” Hagakure, ridiculously, sounds almost happy about this. “You never really talked to us about yourself before.”

“There’s no point in being secretive about it. Not when I was already forced to reveal it during the trial.” He sniffs. Immediately, Hagakure looks away, chagrined. From Byakuya’s periphery, he can see Makoto still facing away, his ears turning pink.

Kirigiri clears her throat. “...For the time being, it’s clear that we need to ensure Alter Ego remains a secret from the mastermind.” She says, and Byakuya watches as she types something out, a thick line of black characters. Every few keystrokes, she stops, and deletes the last word in a series of light clicks; listening closer, the sound was awkward and irregular, each press slurring into the next key. With a slight twinge of guilt, he realizes that the cause of it was her left hand - the one he had practically crushed.

After a moment’s consideration, weighing his conscience with what was at stake, he nudges her slightly with his knee. “Move. You type too slow.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I can hear it.” He replies flatly. “You type like you’re all thumbs. Move over.”

He half-expects her to stay where she is, to ignore him and continue, but to his surprise she actually complies, standing up and stepping aside. He crouches into the space she had just abandoned, sliding his hands over the keyboard until his index fingers find the tiny, tell-tale grooves of the position keys. The size and dimensions are different from his computer at home, but for a moment the feeling is so familiar that he’s almost nostalgic.

“What did you want to ask again?”

“If it has any contingency measures in place for if Monokuma - or the mastermind, or anyone suspicious - happens to find it.”

His fingers skim over the keys, clicking fluidly. A thin line of black appears at the bottom of the screen in time to his movements, but he can’t confirm if the output is accurate; judging by the way Makoto gasps behind him, and the way Hagakure whistles, he can guess that it’s more or less correct.

“Impressive,” Celeste says, in an appreciative tone. “I suppose being such an esteemed heir means you have many talents.”

He can’t tell if she’s mocking him, so he decides to ignore her, though he allows himself a small amount of smugness. He finishes typing: “Is this what you wanted to ask?”

Instead of replying, Kirigiri leans over his shoulder and clicks the ‘enter’ button. After a moment’s pause:

“Hm, to be honest, so far I’ve just been trying to be reeeally careful with when I’m active…though I guess that backfired last night, with me scaring Aoi.” Alter Ego hums in thought. “But, I do have a secret plan! If anyone comes around who I don’t recognize on my webcam…I’ll scream super loud!”

“That’s so basic!” Asahina blurts out, shocked by the simple nature of it.

“Yes, and it’s not likely to work at night.” Ogami grumbles. “The bedrooms are soundproofed.”

“Maybe we can try taking turns staying up?” Makoto suggests. “I can take the first night, I don’t mind…”

“I think such a sudden change in our patterns is likely to draw suspicion from the mastermind. Which would be rather counterproductive.” Celeste says, and Makoto ducks his head immediately. “Though, your thoughtfulness is appreciated.”

“Then it can’t be helped.” Kirigiri sighs. “I’ll leave my door open. I’m at the end of the hallway anyways, so if anything happens, I should be able to react the quickest.”

What a crazy woman. “You’d leave yourself vulnerable?” He scoffs. After all the precautions he’s seen her take, it’s hard to imagine her sacrificing herself to any degree.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Besides, I’m not so helpless. I have no intention of going down without a fight.” She pauses, mouth open like she’s about to say more, before she decides against it. “Anyways. We should avoid any mention or contact with Alter Ego as much as possible, to draw as little attention as we can.”

She claps her hands sharply, a sound that makes more than one person jump, and makes Byakuya almost flinch. “For the time being…let’s disperse.”

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff #danganronpa fanfiction #thpff chapters #togiri #<- bc i wrote this with togiri intent. for the togiri truthers #byakuya togami #the h in chihiro stands for. haunting the narrative!!!!! #i was writing this chapter on the plane with my computer brightness turned alllll the way down #byakuya can't really read kyoko's reaction and therefore sees it as super nonchalant. and i know that with her scars it probably didnt hurt #but i also wanna imagine her tearing up like. motherfucking ow?? #swearing under her breath and stamping her foot while he's changing and having to play it off like she was just looking at his books #both of them feeling somewhat guilty for the other person's situation and trying to help but only by way of insulting them #like 'ugh i cant believe you. fine i'll do this but only bc i dont wanna have to deal with you' as they try to compensate for each other #sorry not much naegami but theyre divorced rn and everyone's busy mourning and stuff #naegami development: they have a moment of humility and intimacy and sleep in the same bed #togiri development: he accidentally slams her hand in the door and doesnt apologize #HIROO my friend hiroo......ily hiro and how much u care sobb #anyways im taking a break after this. sob. wails.

[nostalgia-tblr]

It's time for me to admit something.

I am still a bit confused about how back in the beginning of the Loki series Mobius is introduced to us as "special[ising] in the pursuit of dangerous Variants." But like. That doesn't seem to be a thing that the TVA really... do? They mostly seem to spot nexus events and pop to the new branch and prune it, bringing back the person who caused that nexus event to give them a show-trial and then prune them too.

There's no reason they can't do more than one thing, but what exactly are "dangerous variants"? From the TVA perspective they're all equally troublesome, and they'll be picked up as soon as they do something 'wrong', and the TVA/HWR don't actually care about the moral value or otherwise of that 'wrong' thing. Have I got that right?

They're chasing Sylvie but a) she's targeting the TVA themselves and b) she's got a means to travel from one timeline to another, which she got from the TVA and unless those get stolen a lot..

I'm willing to just roll with it anyway if it doesn't really fit but what am I missing here? EXPLAIN. (pls?)

#loki series #this has been bothering me for a while but nobody else ever asks about it so i assume i've just missed some crucial info here? #and so to me it's been like the Dangerous Variants stuff is a leftover from some earlier draft of the story? #one of what i consider the Fandom Misconceptions is the idea that the TVA/Mobius actually care that TVA!Loki's been a bad boy. #but they don't! he was *supposed* to be a bad boy so actually he wasn't doing anything wrong as they'd see it (until he ran off) #the guilt-tripping clip-show is just to break *this* Loki and tame him enough that they can use him to catch the *other* Loki #but then even with this i am at odds with much of the fandom? who do see mobius as trying to help Loki from the outset #but like... the TVA are not in the business of redemption arcs! what does mobius plan to do if they do catch the Bad Variant together? #what great reward lies in wait for the now-surplus Loki he brought in to catch the one they were actually having problems with? #because i suspect very much that the longer-term plan for TVA!Loki involved a nice euphemistic word like “pruning” #what's going on what am i missing why am i over here watching a series that seems to be far more fucked-up than other peoples?

[musical-chick-13]

So the problem is. That I don't want to call Ten-cubed "fourteen." I think Ncuti should be. Fourteen. He IS fourteen.

But if I want to talk about Ncuti's specific incarnation of this character. And make it clear that I am talking about him. I will have to call him "Fifteen." But doing that means that everyone involved in this ridiculous naming decision wins.

#maybe we call him 'gatwa!doctor' ?? #kind of like we do with the masters #(and we've done this with other doctors too like war and ruth so it's not like there's no precedent) #(then again this will change ALL the numbers going forward. like whoever's after gatwa will '''officially''' be sixteen & so on & so forth) #WHY DOES THE SAME ACTOR GET TWO NUMBERS. ONE OF THOSE WASN'T EVEN A FULL RUN. WTF RUSSELL #like I'm willing to say that maybe. MAYBE. there wasn't active malicious intent. but holy shit the optics are SO bad. #genuinely I am still mad about this and I will be forever #I promise I am not trying to make this one (1) writer man into my parasocial enemy there are plenty of other people I could do that with #who deserve it more. I just get...tired. #like really it's the fact that everyone interpreted the past 2 eras in the WORST faith possible and STRAIGHT-OUT MADE UP THINGS TO COMPLAIN #ABOUT THAT WERE NOT CANON. but there's SO little impulse to criticize ANYTHING regarding russel or dt's 70000 incarnations #which. that discrepancy/hypocrisy isn't COMPLETELY the show's fault. but that. unfortunately. doesn't make it any less annoying. #there was something else I was going to say but I deleted it for being a bit TOO salty #mel screams about The Weird Little Space Show again

[joyridingmp3]

thinking about when my mother said to me that she wants to really make an effort to treat my younger sisters well so that they're able to recognise when they're being mistreated because they'll think "hey! this isn't the way im supposed to be treated" and that's when the penny sort of dropped... that's why im like this?

#because i literally. genuinely. don't. know. any better? #and then trickled in the pain of knowing that i wasn't worth enough to want to treat well #but it's not a dick measuring contest or anything. my sisters are great and I'm glad our mother wants to make changes for them #i truly am #but anyway. at least now im self aware #I've been tearing myself up from the inside wondering why i continuously find myself in situations where im being treated so badly #because obviously it's not everyone else. the common denominator is me #and I've been trying to figure out exactly what I'm doing wrong #my older sister said to me that it's the people that i choose #and i guess she definitely has a point there #but when my mother said this i was like oh. #it's not that i let people do bad things because im a pushover (though that was the case a while ago) #it's because i literally don't know the difference #and im so used to shitty behaviour that i can't recognise when it's happening #because it's always happening #crazy town. big weekend for revelations #i swear to god every time i get sick i undergo a new kind of metamorphosis caterpillar to butterfly style #continuously transform #mine

[camellia-thea]

.

#tw vent #bad week. #running out of meds. can't get new ones til the fifteenth so i am off my antipsychotics and low on my antidepressants #which means that. literally anything will make me unable to function for the rest of the day #and it's not fair on anyone else because i get snappy and it's not their fault and i know it's not their fault and i'm not trying to snap #but i feel like can't modulate tone like this because i'm trying not to be upset about things i shouldn't be upset about #and it's nobody's fault but every single time it feels like the world is ending and i know it isn't which makes me feel worse #because what a stupid reaction #and i feel trapped in my own home because i literally cannot leave it #and it's like. i could fix this if my fucking body wasn't broken and i wish i didn't have to depend on people like this #and make them do stuff they don't want to do or make them go out of their way to do something for me when i want to be able to do it myself #normally i am more okay with this but. world ending time. everything just feels unbearable right now #my entire chest feels hollow and empty and it aches

[calamitys-child]

God a cute guy I met the other day asked me for a coffee and I feel like I'm Dying about it. I'm too aspec too neurodivergent and too damn out of practice. How do you tell the intent behind a coffee. Is it somehow unforgivably socially taboo to be like man I don't know how to even decide what my intent is get back to me in 3 months to twelve years and maybe my demi ass will have an opinion. How fucking quickly is it normal to form that opinion. Is it horrible of me to open with "im probably definitely aspec" or is it horrible of me to keep that quiet. Is it literally to talk about werewolves or is that somehow a euphemism. Is it shitty of me to be overthinking any of it this much. Is anyone expected to have answers to any of this. Can someone just take me out back and put me out of my misery.

#someone flirts with me WAHOO HELL YEA I LOVE FLIRTING #someone tries to in any way follow up on that flirting for more than twenty minutes: i have a tummy ache i have to leave right now #but they DO seem nice and i DO if nothing else love talking about werewolves and drinking coffee #so it probably will not kill me #but also. i hav a tummy ache right now #maybe i can in fact lead a perfectly fulfilled life just intermittently crushing on any friends ive had for over a year #then deciding against that bc i cant do romance actually and instead adopt several pets to fill the hugs void #and occasionally suck my pals off if im bored #maybe that actually is the best way to go about this #maybe i should run far away from any suggestion of dating forever and ever and lie in the sea (my wife) instead #i quite like being chaotically single and i do sincerely love all my friends so very deeply #none of the above suggestion is dismissive thats how ive been doing it and maybe i should just #not try to do anything else like . this wasn't Bad