#this is ugly but alas today has been an awful day and they are running some tests on my mum at the hospital and i cant visit

[xieliancore]

happy tian ya ke anniversary! heres some angst!

#wenzhou #wenzhou fanart #tian ya ke #tyk fanart #tyk #word of honor #wen kexing #zhou zishu #this is ugly but alas today has been an awful day and they are running some tests on my mum at the hospital and i cant visit #bc of covid restrictions so only my dad can be there with her #my mind has been a mess all day #this is what i get for having an anxiety disorder lmao #my art

[themoonmunchkin]

Don't look!

Pairing : Bakugo katsuki x gn!reader, Midoriya Izuku x gn!reader, Todoroki Shoto x gn!reader.

Genre : fluff

Warnings : insecure reader, cussing, savage deku?, kinda angsty but overall super fluffy ^3^

Synopsis : you're insecure about your side profile but they're having none of it.

Not gonna lie, he probably wouldn't even have known that this was an insecurity that people had.

So when you first start dating he wouldn't think much of it when you cover your nose while laughing or when you contour your jawline extra hard.

Until one day you start letting your thoughts get to you again, you think about how everyone around you have such a beautiful side profile.

You start wondering why Katsuki even bothers to be with someone as "ugly" as yourself, I mean has he seen his face.

But anyways you start distancing yourself from the world again, start hiding your face with your hair, have mental break downs in the night, refuse to take pictures and completely shut him out while thinking you're being subtle.

But no, no, no- my mans noticed...and he's currently having a full blown panic attack on the inside.

He's really worried at this point and starts thinking about what he's done wrong, he tries to talk to you but you're always making excuses and running away from him.

Now, he's had enough and so he quite literally barges into your dorm room and demands an explanation as he keeps shouting at you until....

.....he takes in your tear stained face with fresh tears forming at the corner of your eyes.

You were seated on the floor with a hand mirror clutched to your chest, the same one that you use to point out all your insecurities in, your phone is on the ground next to you with a picture of a model, her perfect side profile on display...the same one that you always compare yourself to.

Cue in a confused, angry and sad boom boom boy 😔.

Who the fuck had the audacity to make his baby cry hmm 🤬.

But then his anger vanishes just as it comes and before you knew it, he's shut the door behind him, quickly walks upto you, swoops you into his arms and cradles you in his lap.

"Ssshhh....its ok baby, I'm right here". Bakugo softly coos in your ear while running his fingers through your hair and letting his other hand rub your back. "Talk to me honey, what's wrong?"

You pull back a little and look up at him into his pain filled eyes that still hold so much love for you and that's when you tell him everything.

You tell him about how you've always hated your nose, how you've always wished you'd had a more chiseled jawline, how you've been bullied about your side profile by your peers and how you've never felt good enough.

He still doesn't get it because you're genuinely the most stunning person he's ever laid his eyes on, but understands how this is something that seriously bothers you and so he's gonna do everything in his powers to yeet those insecurities out.

Now Bakugo isn't one to lie or sugarcoat something, but he's also not someone who'll let you sit and hurt yourself like that.

He takes a deep breath, cups your cheeks in his hands and looks at you with the most earnest look on his face.

"Listen here baby, you're right maybe you don't have the most chiseled jawline or the sharpest nose out there-"

You winced at that a little but he was quick to speak again.

"I'm not done yet-" he closes his eyes and thinks for a second, words have never been his thing as he's someone who prefers actions instead but right now you needed more than just a kiss or a hug, you needed security and reassurance, so he takes in another deep breath and opens his eyes to look at you again.

"-just because you don't have those doesn't mean you're any less beautiful." He said with a smile as you curiously looked at him. You looked so damn cute to him all he wanted to do was pounce on you right then and there, but he held himself back for your sake and the next things he said made you fall in love with him even more.

"What you have suits your gorgeous fucking face, you don't have to change for any stupid extra and no one's opinion, not even yours is going to make me view you any differently or make me love you any less." He leaned in and gave you a chaste kiss on your lips that pretty much took your breath away and then he pulled back with a cute blush on his face.

"So from now on only listen to me okay and no matter what-" he kisses you again and pulls back a second time "-I will make you look at yourself the way I and so many other people look at you".

Now he's had his fair share of insecurities and he's had a lot of people call him "plain looking" (which I still don't understand how when he's got some of the rarest and most beautiful features) even then those words about his looks have never really got to him.

But when it comes to you, he immediately knows something's up with all those self-deprecating jokes you apparently find to be funny.

Doesn't question you cause he doesn't want to scare you away, also because he trusts you to come to him if something is wrong.

But alas you and your stubborn ass refused to seek help from anyone and instead you chose to cope with yourself by putting yourself down in the form of those awful "jokes".

You've always tried to get yourself to stop this, but it soon became more than a coping mechanism, it was the only way you could hold yourself up without wanting breaking into peices.

That was dangerous.

But it's ok! It's still all fine and dandy until one day everything changes and you realise that all that self-deprecation didn't do shit.

Its Sunday today and you and your boyfriend Izuku have been walking around the shopping plaza for a while now.

The two of you were on a date, but you were also on a hunt for the new all might merch that your boyfriend has been fangirling about since forever. So far there was no luck on your end but y'all weren't about to give up just yet.

"OMG! I think I see it in there!" Izuku squeals cutely while pointing at what looks like a moderately big comic store that had an emo cyber punk looking aesthetic to it.

*Gasp*..."OMG! I think I see it too!! Let's go!!" and with that you grabbed his hand and were dragging your blushy stuttering mess of a boyfriend towards the store. It was adorable how easily he got flustered even after how the two of you were almost half a year into dating.

The two of you finally reached the store and stepped in, there it was the brand new neon tinted holographic Allmight figuring with working layers. Izuku's eyes sparkled as he ran towards it and immediately snatched it off the shelf.

"Yay we finally got it!" You cheered as you walked over to him and gave him a high five. The two of you had bright smiles on your faces as you talked about the figuring and walked towards the counter to pay for it.

You looked towards the counter where a young girl who looked about your age was working as a cashier, she had this bored expression on her face until she saw your boyfriend and it immediately changed into something you could only call as a flirty expression.

"Hey there handsome~ what can I help you with today~" she said in a sultry tone and gave him a wink. You and izuku were both puzzled at the fact that she not only just openly flirted with your boyfriend but also completely ignored your existence.

"U-um....er....we just need this figuring please". Izuku placed the box covered figuring on the counter and was about to pull his hands back when she quickly grabbed them and cupped them with her own hands.

"You sure, how about I give you my number and we ditch this place to go get coffee."

"Um -uh no thank you, I have a s/o!"

"Hmm...I don't see them."

"Well I'm right here and maybe you'd have seen me if you'd stop flirting with your customers and did your job properly." You said and at this point you were seething because even though she knew you were right there, she hadn't spared you a glance and pretend like you were completely invisible.

"Oh, so that's who you are....I was wondering why such an ugly person would be hanging out with someone like him-" she pauses and looks into Izuku's eyes with a bored expression "-you need to raise your standards, I mean have you looked at how hideous their nose is or how ugly their face is."

The two of you froze. Sure You've always made fun of yourself before but this was the exact reason why. You've always told yourself that if you'd make fun of yourself, you'd be desensitized to what others say to you but it's only now you realize that no amount of preparation would ever be enough to handle the real thing.

Shame. Humiliation. Pain. Fear.....This is what you felt at the momen-

"How. Dare. You." You turned towards Izuku and for the first time ever you were met with the most terrifying expression on his face. His eyes were dark and he looked...mad....like really really mad and you froze, the cashier looked like she was about to cry with the look he was giving her.

"I don't know who you think you are but you had no need to say whatever you just said and you are wrong because they have the most gorgeous facial features ever." at this he turned to you and softened his eyes a bit, he reached for your hand and gave you a gentle squeeze.

"I promise you sweetheart, you will always be the most beautiful person in my life and no one can tell you otherwise-" he looked at the slack jawed cashier with disgust and pointed towards her "-not stupid people like her-" he looked back into your eyes like you were the only two people in the store and pointed towards himself "-not me and lastly never will you ever tell yourself those kinds of words again even as a joke, got it."

Always openly staring at you in the most respectful way ✨.

Even before y'all started dating he would always stare at you in secret, but hey! it's not his fault you were so irresistibly attractive all the time.

Uhm...so moving on, he is observant as heck especially when it comes to you but unfortunately he's just as oblivious T_T.

He's always noticed how you'd get shy and walk away whenever he'd stare at you for too long and genuinely thinks it's adorable at how bashful you get.

But truthfully.....you're mortified, paranoid even at how much he stares at you.

I mean yeah it's adorable to see him so whipped for you but you're always wondering if he's secretly bashing your side profile in his head and the thought makes you wince ever single time.

But you always tell yourself to not let your insecurities define Shoto or effect your relationship and besides Shoto isn't a cruel person, he'd never think of you that way.....right...?

Oh God, he's doing it again, he's staring at you and this time it truly is terrible because he is seated right beside you. The two of you are seated wooden chairs, side by side in the U.A. library.

Your textbooks and notebooks are spread out on the table in front of you. You're in a more secluded part of the library opting to study in a more private area and boy oh boy did Shoto take advantage of that.

"Shoto, could you please stop staring at me like that". You held your textbook upto your face and looked the other way.

"But I want to look at you". Shoto pouted slightly and furrowed his brows at your actions, he reached for your wrists and tried to pull them down and to much to your inconvenience, he succeeded.

You see, while you still had a bunch of work left to do, Shoto had finished about 15 minutes ago. You told him to go back to the dorms but instead of listening to you, he denied your offer and has been staring at you with the most unreadable expression on his face.

"Why can't I admire the one that I love the most". He slightly tilted his head towards the side and flashed you the most genuine smile. Damn him for being so adorable but that's not enough for your insecurities to go away.

"Because I'm ugly". You finally said softly with your head hung low and tears threatening to fall. You wanted to shrivel up in a corner and fade away for sounding so vulnerable but at the same time it felt so good to let your thoughts out.

"You're....what..." His eyes were wide and his jaw was set a slack. Now this took him by surprise, he had expected a lot of things but never once had he expected....that. He gently grabbed your chin and tilted your face to meet his. "Love, you're the most beautiful person I've ever met, why would you ever say that."

"Because I'm not beautiful, everyone has such a gorgeous face especially from their side. I don't and you don't have to lie to me to make feel better about myself. I know I'm ugly and I'll always be that....just let me accept that and be Shoto." You said with your voice slightly raised and shaky from the lump in your throat.

Shoto's eyes darkened a little and his grip on you tightened a little but not enough to hurt you. To even think that someone as precious as yourself could ever have such awful thoughts about yourself- how long have you been silently suffering like this all by yourself.

He cupped your cheeks with his hands and met your eyes with the most determined look on his face. "Darling, I don't know who said that to you or even if that's an inside voice but, I will absolutely never let you accept yourself this way."

"Everything about you is perfect, from those gorgeous eyes that i always get lost in," he kisses your eyes.

"-to that perfect nose that helps you breath so you could live by my side another," he kisses your nose.

"-to those delicate beckoning lips that I wish to kiss forever." he finally captures your lips in a breath taking kiss just to slowly release them and look at you.

"And besides, you know better than to call me a liar baby, you know that I would never lie when it comes to you so let's pack up for today and let me show you how much I love you and how utterly enticing you are."

#writing #fiction #reading #reader insert #headcanon #bnha x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha todoroki #todoroki x reader #midoriya x reader #mha midoriya #midoriya fluff #midoriya headcanons #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shoto

[hargreef]

I just have to ask 👀 because I love your writing :)

why thank you!!! i know its meant to be small but lol have a whole chapter of a fic i started and then completely abandoned

enjoy !

To say Diego Hargreeves is having a bad day is an understatement.

In fact, that would be an incredibly considerate and generous way to put the absolutely atrocious afternoon he’s just had into words. He’s not particularly one for dramatics, but today deserves a big and bold statement on just how shit it was.

For starters, things set off rough the moment he opened his eyes and realised he’d missed the entire first phase of Vanya’s opera audition which he promised he’d be there for—not to mention the fifty missed calls in relation to the fact he’d agreed to serve as her personal chauffer, considering her Mini got sort of busted last week at a cheap car-wash that damaged the entire front windshield ever-so conveniently days before her big performance—so that was an excellent way to kick off his morning.

Honestly, he should’ve gathered things would only go downhill from then on, but, naivety forever plagues him as a terribly gaunt weakness he has yet to shed, a scrap of skin top-layering the thicker build he’s developed to rationalise with this sort of thing. If only his sensitivity blundered from beneath his harder shell, rather than sizzling on top of it all fucking soft and tender, fostering the ugly habit of ingenuousness that forces its awful presence too prominently much too often than he’d like.

Anyways, his next demise of the day had occurred typically right after the first, all in the hands of a simple phone call from his landlord practically kicking him out of his shitty apartment and giving him all of twelve seconds to do so. The situation of course just straight up was not ideal, and had Diego much to say about it, he’s ninety percent sure jail would be his current reside right now but alas—he spurts some levels of sanity that coexist with his stupidity, most of the time.

And then, to top all of that off, he gets a delightful invitation via one of his father’s weird little apprentices requesting his return to the academy for some vital research purposes, or something. Which, honestly, sounds the least concerning in comparison to the rest of the running shitshow of today, but Diego fucking hates his dad and can guarantee plenty of ramifications that come with meeting the lunatic anytime soon.

So, naturally, he packs his shit because he suddenly has nowhere to live (he should’ve paid that stupid rent on time, goddamn it) his sister will most likely refuse to speak to him for the next three weeks because she’s a stubborn little bitch and he screwed up, his other sister is probably shooting a movie somewhere in the ass of Hollywood right now, and his brothers are scattered all over the city getting up to fuck-knows-what.

Well, Luther’s probably kick-boxing with a bunch of preteens in a gym because being a fitness instructor guarantees a lifestyle of stability and promised finance, obviously, and Ben always spends his Saturdays editing anyways, scrambling to meet whatever deadline his literature profession has to offer. Klaus is probably just—who even knows. Point being, his siblings are currently occupied, henceforth Diego’s dubious concerns over the fact he’s going to have to withstand his father’s unbearable presence alone.

Ugh.

There’s a series of brunt pounding on his door, followed by a roar of ‘Diego, you best be out of here in an hour!’ before another brutal thump that could’ve been a sturdy object hurled at the solid frame. Diego thinks that’s nothing short of childish—even he wouldn’t put the door under attack like that. He fucking hates his landlord.

Or, well, ex-landlord, now. Shit.

Life is one big joke, apparently. A massive shitting bag of misery, one of which clearly doesn’t bother to take any intervals between each inconvenience to the next—honestly, half the time Diego simply can’t catch a break. Especially today; he definitely deserves a week off work just to feel sorry for himself.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket, inducing yet another headache above all else, and Diego presses a fist to his forehead in a pathetic attempt to ground his irritation because his patience has worn dangerously thin. It’s fucking Joan, too. One of his dads creepy sidekick scientists, probably pestering him with a follow-up call to confirm either his decline or acceptance at the demanded request.

Which he so badly wants to decline but—he’s a bit stuck at the moment. And Reginald is, like, a literal billionaire, so. There’s that.

“I got your message,” Diego grunts, abruptly dismissing any pleasantries. “Fine. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“He’ll be happy to hear that,” says Joan, referring to his prick of a father.

“I don’t care,” says Diego, and cuts the call.

__

The Lab is exactly the same as it always is.

Tall, white, blocky. Evidently dismissive as it is alluring, streaks of something secretive forever buried within the walls, even from the outside. There’s always been something strangely captivating about the place, a feeling Diego dates back to his childhood visits that he’s never been quite able to pinpoint into an accurate definition.

Not to say it’s nice, by any means. That’s stretching far out wide, reaching for a vague compliment that its eeriness doesn’t deserve. Any sort of praise associated with The Lab must come from a place of delusion or straight up lunacy—Diego can’t imagine any form of niceties correlating with such a haunting building that don’t stem from someplace sinister themselves—but those such thoughts he doesn’t dwell on too often. He’s happy staying ignorant when it comes to his dads peculiar, obscured studies, if he’s honest.

Reginald doesn’t greet him upon arrival, which is to be expected, and so Diego navigates his way through countless corridors with practiced ease, the spindly labyrinth of identical hallways second nature at this point. He could map out the upper floors of The Lab blindfolded, he’s positive.

Down below, he’s not so sure.

His dad awaits him in his study on the seventh floor, head bent over copious stacks of files and scattered test results of something Diego doesn’t even want to know about. His monocle squints between his left eye socket from where he’s strained in deep focus, and Diego can’t help but think that one day the bony cup will simply shatter the eyepiece.

Which would be funny, actually, but now clearly isn’t the time to offer his humour.

“Hey pops,” he says dryly, instead. He crosses the room of dark interior and lined sorting cabinets, flopping into a leather chair opposite his father’s desk with a grunt. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

“Don’t interrupt my concentration, Number Two,” Reginald says, without sparing him so much as a glance, and good fuck it’s been about half a minute and Diego is already set to punch the man in the face.

He taps the arm of the chair impatiently as time trickles by, his knee soon picking up the same action the longer he sits around like a fucking tool. A clock ticks loudly above his dads head and Diego is incredulously close to standing up and walking out.

“Now,” Reginald says, opting typically to address his son the utter moment he’d been about to leave. “I gathered your being here wasn’t affronted with much enthusiasm—” Diego snorts at that comment. Is it not obvious he’s totally ecstatic to be here? “—therefore I do appreciate your arrival, and given the circumstances I assure you your presence is critically essential.”

Well. That’s . . . sort of interesting. Critically, huh?

Diego shifts a little in his seat. “And why’s that?”

“Your powers,” Reginald says, and despite his crude demeanour and blunt approach towards practically everything posing as a serious confliction growing up, Diego can’t say he doesn’t appreciate it now. “I’m inquiring that you sit through several more tests for a new area of research my recent studies have proposed—”

Oh, for fucks sake. “No.”

“Number Two—”

“Diego.”

Reginald inhales sharply. “Diego. I only ask you of this for merely outdated purposes—”

“Dad, you have drawers full of shit from when we were kids,” Diego drags a hand down his face, fighting back a groan. “I can’t give you any more goddamn blood samples. They’re gonna tell you the same crap as last time.”

“If you’re interested in this field of research I am more than content to enlighten you with the details,” Hargreeves says, curtly. “Although I must say you never were naturally gifted at grasping the ability to understand scientific—”

“Alright, that’s enough! I’m good, I’m going now,” Diego interrupts, bottling thick blunts of fury due to the humiliating understanding that this little outing was once again a giant waste of time. Just as any other previous visits, all he got was some bullshit one-liners and petty insults, so quite frankly his dad can get fucked. Several times.

“Diego—” Reginald tries again.

“Find another lab rat for your fucking studies, Dad,” Diego snaps, rising from his chair. He doesn’t bother addressing his father properly as he begins his detour from the office. “I’m not a kid anymore, and I’m not a goddamn guinea pig.”

He slams the door behind him.

__

God, he’s so pissed. The more he thinks about it he becomes impossibly more pissed, replaying such a trivial and brief conversation in his head so much to the point he’s actually seething down the corridors, probably looking like a feral fucking animal as he rages through The Lab.

Initially, his first notion had been to get the fuck out of here and go sort out his living arrangements, but upon further inspection of that thought and the realisation that he actually has to deal with the reality of his own miserable life as soon as he gets to it, left him sidling through the building in a curious investigation, side-tracked entirely.

In truth, he and his siblings had grown up with weekly trips to The Lab—vague memories of needle trolleys and white gowns and all sorts of machinery will forever be embedded in all of their minds, but that’s just it. Nothing more, nothing less. Simply the squeaky wheels of metal carts containing tubes and beakers of suspicious liquids they never learnt the names of, the strong scents of polish and chemicals that always lingered on their uniforms days after their visit; locked doors and forbidden stairwells and training rooms for performance and study purposes only.

They never were given permission to explore, succumbed to a fraction of the building that was restricted from the rest of its facilities, and it strikes Diego now just exactly how little he knows about his father’s work.

It hadn’t interested him much before, considering they had all been entertained with just enough knowledge to satisfy their curiosity, but Diego is no longer a child that can be fed scraps of information that fabricates no real truth, and he is in charge of himself and his own decisions and his dad has seriously pissed him off.

So, he comes to the exit, passes the front desk, throws Miranda the receptionist a hearty wave, and then carries on walking.

He crosses several corners and half-hopes the crippling amount of security Hargreeves’ keeps on standby won’t catch him during his little escapade, because that would be a complete buzzkill and the more he ventures through doors and entrances he’s never been, admittedly, the more excited he becomes.

It’s odd how once you get a taste of something different you’re suddenly dehydrated for it, the thirst for something new sanding the back of your throat and scraping your tongue dry, a thick sponge wedged tightly down your gullet where you’re desperately trying to swallow—that’s what this feels like, to Diego.

He’s three floors below a level he’s never stood beneath before, thick pipes lining the walls and large, double metal doors greeting him as he steps down the final stairwell. After another glance around these new surroundings, he becomes acutely aware of the cameras wired into the ceilings, eliciting small wzzz sounds that prove loudly distinctive as they pan around amid their scanning of the corridors.

Diego should probably stop and turn back now.

He should.

Probably.

And he would—if Reginald hadn’t ticked him off so much. He still feels like a redundant, rebellious teenager the more he feeds himself that excuse just to justify his random exploration of The Lab that’s been instilled as off-limits to him since as long as he can remember but—it’s a shame he doesn’t give a fuck right now, isn’t it?

And he would turn around and journey on home for the sole purpose being that there’s nothing really interesting down here—but a small sneeze catches his attention, and then the sharp muttered curse after it.

It comes from behind a single door that has a metal plate above it in the shape of a toilet—to which can only mean one thing, obviously. As soon as the camera on this particular section is panned the other direction, Diego books it from the stairwell and pushes open the door, stepping gingerly out of the way before it swings back and forth enough to knock him off his feet.

As he turns a corner to greet the row of cubicles, he’s rooted to the spot at the sight that awaits him, totally fucking flabbergasted because what the hell.

A child, a whole literal child, is sitting bam-smack right in the middle of the floor in a position that suggests he’d been on the verge of scrambling to his feet. Diego can’t even speak for a second because he’s so beyond baffled at the mere sight of him.

The boy is small. He has dark hair and dark eyebrows and a scowl deep on his face, but it isn’t the fact that his expression could literally induce death that startles Diego—it’s the hospital gown engulfing him head-to-toe that does the trick.

“Who the hell are you?” He demands, without much consideration towards the fact he’s speaking to an actual child. “What—Jesus, what are you doing here?”

The boy startles backwards, having hauled himself to a wobbly stand and flinching despite the heavy glare he throws. “I could ask you the same thing,” he snaps back, snarling defensively.

Diego can’t help but notice—especially as he stood—just how short he is. Not only is he slight in build, he barely reaches Diego’s shoulder. Not exactly an intimidating structure, but Christ, if looks could kill.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Diego says, although he’s not too sure why considering he’s technically not supposed to be here either. “Why are you here?”

The boy wrinkles his nose, frowning. “I live here,” he states, as if Diego’s the dumbest fucking idiot to roam the planet. “Who are you? You don’t look like . . . them.”

Diego isn’t sure whether or not he wants to know who this kid is referring to, but judging by the distasteful look on his face and the way he practically spits the word out, ‘they’ aren’t particularly pleasant. That idea unsettles something deep in his core, a wave of dread coiling where blissful ignorance had once been because fuck, Dad, what the hell have you been getting up to?

After a brief pause, Diego runs a hand down his face, attempting to gather his scrambled thoughts. He feels like he just got knocked over by eighteen different trucks. “It doesn’t matter who I am,” he says, finally. “You—you live here? Where?”

The kid shrugs profusely, as if this is all positively normal. “Here,” he repeats, obviously at a loss at how to respond to the question. His brows furrow again, in deep thought about something that’s visibly confusing him. “Where else would I be?”

Diego’s heart flips at that, something dark and uncomfortable pooling at the pit of his stomach, because seriously, what the actual fuckkind of question is that?

“What do you mean, where else?” He repeats, an afterthought of considering his wording spawning in his brain because he’s under the mild impression that he’s frightening him. “Do—you were born here?”

The kid tilts his head sideways, and Diego can’t help but feel as if he’s talking to a fucking alien. “Born?” The boy echoes, eyes flittering to the floor from where he’s clearly trying to make sense of the statement. After a moment he brightens. “Oh, you mean made!”

Made. Made. Made. Diego swallows thickly. His gut churns again. “You were . . . made here,” he confirms, slowly.

The boy nods. “We all were,” he clarifies, glancing behind him at the door. He tugs at the sides of his gown, tense. “I should go. They’ll be looking for me.”

“Who?” Diego says, still trying to wrap his head around this entire conversation. “I’m not following.”

“I don’t get what you mean, ‘who?’” The kid snaps, fed up with the interrogation. “Who do you think, dummy? The Makers.”

“The what?”

The boy rolls his eyes, impatience dripping onto his voice where the sarcasm sits. “Yes, the Makers, genius. Who else would be looking for me?”

Anyone living within actual civilisation? “Uh,” Diego is dumbfounded, truthfully. There aren’t times often in his life where he’s stricken speechless but—this kid is really hitting the mark. “I don’t—look, how much time do you think we have before someone comes looking for you?”

Chewing his bottom lip as flash of uncertainty crosses his face, the boy hesitates only for a moment as he tries to fathom an accurate answer, still relentlessly picking at the side of his gown. Diego wonders mildly if it’s the material that’s bugging him. “Um. I don’t know. I ah—” he clicks his tongue, brows still knitted tightly together. “I blinked when I wasn’t supposed to and ended up in here so—” he nods his head in a so-so motion, seemingly indifferent to this information where he’d appeared stressed about it only seconds ago. “Until they figure out where I went, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Diego says, pinching between his brows. “Did you say blinked?”

“Oh,” the kid tusks at himself, shaking his head. “Sorry. Spatial jump. Teleport. You know, my powers?”

That catches Diego off guard.

“Powers,” he repeats, again. Honestly, after everything, that’s probably the least mind fucking thing to come out of the kids mouth. “You have powers?”

The boy leans in and really stares at him, then, a sneer playing his lips. “Are you stupid, or something? What’s with all these ridiculous questions? Yes, I have powers. We all have powers.” He stops to consider this, narrowing his eyes in deep thought. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Diego opens his mouth, fully prepared to offer him some bullshit answer because it’s become all too clear to him the type of life this kid lives, but he can’t think of a word to say.

Is this the shit his dad does? What the hellis going on down here—is this what the studies are for? Man-made creations designed to power and dominate? Tiny robots built for the sole purpose of morbid experimentation, little tester rabbits to feed into crazy fucking scientist’s—oh, hell, Diego’s going to be sick.

“What happens when they find you?” He finds himself asking, totally, totally freaked. Something feels incredibly wrong and debauched about this whole ordeal, and he can’t help the sudden urge to cater to the kids safety—especially considering there’s obviously a shit ton going on that he has no idea about. This little weirdo’s entire existence proves just that.

“Depends,” the boy says, schooling his face into the same blasé expression from where he’s attempting to mask the anxiety shining through his eyes. He shrugs again, and the forced nonchalance stirs a deep dread within Diego’s stomach, alarm bells chiming loudly in his head. The kid well knows what’ll happen—he just doesn’t want to say.

And, well. In that case.

“Come on.” Diego snatches up his skinny elbow before he can think twice about it, which had always been his default—act now, think later—and starts for the door. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“What?” The boy yanks his arm back with a surprising amount of force, staggering backwards as his efforts of a casual demeanour slips off his face in replacement of complete and utter panic. “What are you talking about?”

“Listen, I don’t know if I have time to explain,” Diego insists, hurriedly, leaning down to reach the kids terrified eyes. “But I’m going to ask you to trust me, okay?”

“I don’t know who you are!” The boy snaps, raising his voice. “You come in here looking like that and asking all these absurd questions and now you’re asking me to trust you?”

Okay, well, Diego’s just totally going to ignore whatever dig that was at his appearance. “I know this is scary for you—but I just, I need you to do as I say, alright?” I can’t leave you here.

“Why?” The kids face twists into a defensive snarl, complimenting with his body language that displays his uncertainty as he backs away a few steps. “Give me a proper reason.”

“I just did!” Diego runs a hand through his hair, glancing behind him anxiously. “Okay, fine, I didn’t—I just—look, I know a lot more about this place than I think you do, and I’m guessing it’s nothing that you’ve been told it is, alright?”

“You’re being very vague,” the boy says, folding his arms. “If you’re trying to scare me, it isn’t working. I don’t trust you for a second.”

“You wanna do this the hard way, or the easy way?” Diego counters, seriously shitting it at this point because he could’ve sworn he heard a door slamming in the distance just now. “Because I can promise you a lot of good things if you co-operate with me, alright?”

“You do realise how crazy you sound, right?” The kid says, raising a sceptical brow. “Like, you sound insane. And, for the millionth time, I don’t know you. I’m not following you and your weird clothes anywhere, got it?”

Weird clothes, huh? Jesus, this place must really keep these kids terribly ignorant to normal society. If Diego is this alien to him, he can’t imagine the response he’ll get as soon as he exposes the rest of the world and all its wonders to this small, strange little test subject.

“You can run,” Diego says then, suggesting something he himself would find somewhat convincing given the situation had been reversed. “You can always run, okay? I’m just asking you to follow me, quietly, until I show you something, and then you can decide what comes next. Okay?”

The boy considers this, gnawing on his bottom lip with his leg vibrating nervously in his stance. Another door slams—so Diego had heard something—and the sudden instance of there being very little time left seems to make his decision for him.

“Fine,” he says, teeth gritted and shoulders hunched around his neck. “But I call the shots.”

Diego holds his hands up in surrender. “You call the shots, buddy.”

The boy takes several steps forward until he reaches the door of the bathroom, peaking out to glance into the hallway should there be some creepy scientists roaming around on the search for him. Upon deeming it clear enough for them to move, he gestures for Diego to walk ahead of him.

“Okay, mystery man,” he says, apprehensive despite the curiosity in his eyes. “Lead the way.”

#maybe someday i'll actually write this #once i finish up So Be It ill get around to this loool #i definitely dont write about both of them every chance i get or some shit #can u tell i love diego and fives relationship idk probably not #the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #number five #umbrella academy #number five the boy #five fanfiction #number five fanfic #diego hargreeves #number two #diego fanfic #nope

[dinogoofy]

I'm back darling~ this time I'd love sth for Cassie & her female bestie 😁 bc the xmas is near so Imma give u these prompts: 'I’m a grown adult. I don’t want to take a picture with Santa Claus', 'Hey, want to help me get my parents off my ass about not having a date?'. Have a good day!

Had a ton of fun with this one, hope you enjoy!!!

Cassie Cage x F! Reader

Meeting the parents- I mean, meeting Santa.

----

It was a cold, quiet morning in your apartment. You were enjoying a warm cup of coffee in the early hours, a cheezy hallmark move playing on your TV as you try to work yourself into the holiday spirit. It had been a long year. Your phone dings once, but you ignore it, too focused on who was going to marry Santa. When it kept going off you finally checked it with a sigh.

Cassie-lassy

Hey

Hey, can I ask a favor?

Stop watching Christmas movies and answer me

Cassie was your best friend, but you weren't sure if you liked where this was going.

How did you even know that?

Anyway, whats up?

My parents are throwing a Christmas party this week and are hounding my ass about a date.

And?

Do u think u could pretend to be my gf, just for a day? Just to get them to leave me alone.

You almost choked on your coffee when you read the text. Damn, hallmark movie coming true? Your heart fluttered a bit. Cassie was your best friend. You didn't have feelings for her! That was ridiculous. All she needed was a... friend-to-friend favor. Plus, her dad was super rich, they were totally going to have good food.

Sure, when?

Uh, today good?

The lack of planning was exactly what you should've expected from Cassie. You laughed and drug your hands across your face, she was so lucky that you had the day off.

Bleh, ok. Ur dad better have some good food.

U bet ur ass! Pick u up at 6.

You laughed, and slowly picked yourself off the couch. You hoped that you still had an ugly sweater somewhere in your closet.

The time flew by unfortunately fast. You were rushing to gather your things as Cassie at outside in her 1965 red stingray corvette, (with a mako body) you loved that car so much. You couldn't help but geek out everytime you see it, but alas, there was definitely no time for that today. You frantically locked your apartment as you ran down the steps.

"Sorry I'm late!" Cassie laughed as you got in the car, and that awful flutter feeling returned. Oh no. This is not happening.

"Its chill, I doubt Dad will care if we're late to his party anyway." Your eye twitched, smile still wide on your face. You liked to be on time no matter where you were going, and by the look she was giving you you knew that Cassie said that just to annoy you. You rolled your eyes at her as she took off, the rumble of the car's engine instantly calming you.

Damn. You had never seen a house that big. As Cassie rolled through the big gates you continued to gawk at the beautiful architecture.

"I knew your dad was rich but, seeing how rich he is... is..."

"I know right? He moves into a new house almost every 6 months almost. Each one is bigger then the last one." You felt light headed just imagining how it must feel to have so much money. By the time Cassie parked and the two of you walked to the big doors, you could hear people loud and clear inside the house. This was way different then the tiny little Christmas reunions you were used too.

"I might throw an arm around you and call you nicknames a bit to make it seem legit, are you ok with that? I'm already asking a lot by getting you to come with me in the first place, the last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable." You laughed.

"Cassie it's fine, all that comes with the 'pretend girlfriend' package." She sighs in relief, knocking on the door.

"Just making sure."

The door opens after a few moments, Cassie's mother answering the door, delighted at the sight.

"Cassie you made it just in time! Your dad just got his Ninja Santa costume out of storage. You should- oh, who is this?" You shyly waved, face flushing more from the situation than the cold. You were glad you were already blushing when Cassie links her fingers through your own.

"Mom, this is my girlfriend." Her mom's face lights up, but you would be lying if you said her obvious military posture and build didn't intimidate you. You introduced yourself and shook her hand with your free hand, making sure to shake with a firm grip.

"Its great to meet you. I was wondering when Cassie was going to bring someone home." Cassie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as you awkwardly laughed. Her mom, Sonya, invited the two of you in. Your jaw almost dropped at the inside of the house.

The house was incredibly decorated. Wreaths, lights, an army of elves on the shelves, everything you could think of that spoke Christmas. A giant buffet on the right side of the room and a giant tree in the center of it all.

"Holy shit Cas," you wispered, she giggled squeezing your hand.

"I know right. They overdo it every year."

The rest party was amazing. You met many of Cassie's friends and family friends from the special forces. Kids were livey and running around the place. Even though the mansion and beautiful and intimidating, everything seemed to speak family to you. Every once in a while you would catch Cassie staring at you, but she would always wave you off, face flushing. It couldn't be an actual blush though, this was all an act, right?

"Ho ho ho, Ninja Butt-kicker Santa Claus has arrived!" A voice boomed from the center of the room. Adults laughed while children screamed with delight, booking it towards the gaint tree. Cassie sighed in embarrassment.

"I was beginning to wonder when dad would show up." You tried hard not to laugh when you dragged her to the middle of the room, catching a glimpse of her dad's "holiday spirit".

Kids hopped on his lap one by one, telling him what they want for Christmas, and (probably thanks to their parents,) each one was giving the wanted present and a fake ninja-star. You had thought every child was given a present and taken a picture, so surely he was going to "retire" for the night, right?

"Ho ho ho, Santa thinks that one, special little girl has yet to take a picture." He looked straight at Cassie and winked. She immediately recoiled.

"No. No no no. I'm a grown adult, I don't want to take a picture with Santa Claus." Everyone chuckled around the two of you. And Sonya walked over to push her into the center of the room with her dad, camera firm in her hands. Cassie sent an embarrassed look your way as she was forced to sit on Santa's lap.

"And what would you like for Christmas Cassie Cage?" Cassie looked like she wanted to melt away form her spot. Only answering because she had to.

"I don't want anything Da- Santa." Her Dad let out another Jolly, fake laugh.

"Sure you do! Santa knows everything, you know!" He hands her a small box, and winks at her.

"You know what Santa wants for Christmas? Grandkids." The crowd laughed, and your face immediately flushed a dark red, Cassie almost looking the same way. She covered her face as she hopped off her Dad's lap and speedwalked back to you without even opening the box.

The rest of the party went by so fast, and before you knew it, the two of you were walking back to her car in the cold.

"This was a ton of fun cas," She laughed, you wondered if she knew that you were still holding hands.

"Yeah, I'm glad you came with me. Sorry if my parents were a little overbearing." You shrugged, letting her know that it was fine. The silence after was unbearable. You wondered for a moment if you should ask her out. The party was nice, really nice, but it was honestly just because you were 'pretending' to be her girlfriend. You think she might've thought so too. You opened your mouth to speak, but she beat you to it.

"Hey, so, what if we made this whole... 'fake girlfriend' thing, a 'real girlfriend' thing?" You blushed, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

"I think I'd like that." Her face lit up with a smile, squeezing your hand back. She stuck her hand in her pocket, and looked surprised for a moment, stopping in her tracks to pull out the box from earlier.

"I forgot about this thing."

"Mabye you should open it?" She let go off your hand to gingerly untie the bow, taking the lid off the box and tucking it underneath it. Her face flushed.

"It's mistletoe." Your face flushed in return. So thats what he ment. Cas started to nervously mumble something, closing the lid on the box, but you held a hand over hers before she put it away.

She instantly kissed back when you leaned in to complete the tradition. The gentle moonlight kiss becoming the only Christmas miracle you needed.

You were definitely living in a hallmark movie.

#cassie cage #mk imagine #mkx mortal kombat x #mk11 ultimate #mk x reader #mortal kombat

[lucarioisinthevoid]

I hate to be That Guy but I feel like the interaction with Dave {or whatever the thing in Hell is} was leading up to something. It's likely too early to ask for elaboration but I have no impulse control and not enough dopamine so I'm going to not so vaguely indicate that I want to see more if there is more to see. If there has to be a cast perhaps Mangle, Toy Chica, Ballora and of course Springtrap. If it isn't that deep, I'm sorry I wasted your time! Have a good whatever time you read this at.

(Absolutely be That Guy™, I LOVE That Guy™! Though frankly, I feel like you’re overhyping this, while I do have a bit of story around, it’s no good. Ah, whatever, there’s only like- 35 more days of this stuff, so it doesn’t matter if I write myself into corners. All these drabbles are EXCLUSIVELY written with zero brain, but still, thank you very much for that request. While I would LOVE to make a drabble with that cast, because it’s a fun one that crawls into your office directly, it wouldn’t be that lore heavy. So instead these people are just going to be cameos. Also, jumping forward in time by a fair bit Warning for a fair bit of torture!)

Time didn’t work right here. Time passed, but it didn’t. Not at all. He was allowed to drink and occasionally eat in the saferoom, but… Everything that would be an temporal indicator was gone. No natural light, no physical change coming from this body- At least he was still breathing and bleeding, but that didn’t make it much easier to define the timeframe he was in. Over and over and over. The night started over and over and over. He was growing more and more sick of it. The only interesting thing left… … was dying. It gave him the chance to talk to the animatronics- and to get to know the someone who was behind this place. The one he shouldn’t have killed. It was such a peculiar title. So pompous, it must have been made up by a child. But who the hell could that be?! There had been too many kids. The only really noteworthy ones being Lucas and Charlie. Yet it didn’t see like they were here- A meeting with the Marionette had been enough to prove as much. The day the words “I don’t hate you” came from the dangly creature’s mouth was the day he would simply vanish from the universe. And Lucas? Lucas was too kind, too hesitant- he had preserved his gentle nature, fighting only when absolutely necessary. There was no way he would create an entire torture location. Hell, he had even tried to ask Scott, but he refused to talk about it. All he guaranteed was that it wasn’t him. No, no, it had to be a kid- everything about this place told him that. He knew how kids worked and what they liked. A baddie that attacked you killed you within a second just because you didn’t watch his show? Ludicrous. And no, he wouldn’t talk about Toy Freddy. Some of the animatronics had nothing of interest to say- But many did. The real bothersome point that had been standing out to him was how… actually friendly the machines were. Yes, they HURT him, but they called him a friend, cracked jokes and their attacks oftentimes seemed like mere petty retaliation… as if they didn’t really meant for any permanent harm. In a world where nothing left permanent harm, their retaliations became rather vicious. An exception were the nightmares, but it seemed to be in their nature. Henry made notes where he could, as well as getting used to their method of attack and torture. It was a double win- … … yet he hated it. It frustrated him to have to invite some of them in. It felt filthy. Death was something intimate. If someone killed you, there should be some sort of purpose, some sort of connection there. It was another mark you could leave on a person. There was something appalling about offering your body, regardless in what way. At least to him. Alas, his blood was the only currency still existing in this world and at least he got to pick and choose when he would be torn to pieces, most of the time. By now he had become good enough. Good enough. Barely. Impatiently he clicked his nails on the table, quickly putting on the mask as the room started flickering. Toy Chica peeked through his eyeholes, grinning. “… and? Who has the honor today, Henryyyy?” “Not you.” “Aw! How unfair!” She pouted, looking out of the doors, trying to spot Ballora, who both of them could hear moving in the back. “We had sooooo much fun last time! What? You want Ballora to-“ “You testing out your cannibalistic fantasies is not my definition of fun, dear. And no. I need to talk to someone else.” “Pft.” Pouting she moved away, slinking back into the vent on the ground. “Fine! Have fun I guess. Better not let me catch you without the mask! Because if I get to win, I get to win, no exceptions.” “There will be no problems with that.” Henry quietly sighed, taking off the old mask. It wasn’t even a Fredbear mask. For some reason it was one of the most disappointing things about this place. Ballora drew close and he carefully closed the door on her, trying not to interrupt her routine too much. Nothing ruined a good melody like the sound of stomping doors. Today he wasn’t worried about the power running out. It all stopped once one of them entered. Everything stopped once one of them entered. A rule. Many rules. And none of them made much sense. Again his nails tapped on the table, anxious and almost angry. Mangle was probably already caught in a vent-snare… … but William took far too long to get here. William. Dave. Davetrap. Never mind that. Finally, the bemused mask of the rotten bunny appeared in the vents, staring down at him. “… having fun?” “… Dave. Good to see you.” Henry stared up to him. “We need to talk.” “Eh… I dunno…” Playfully Dave began crawling back inside. “I’m not in the m-“ “You can come in.” Instantly he had ALL of Dave’s attention, even though he wished he didn’t. It was always a little uncomfortable to see William overly excited, and usually he knew what exactly it was about at least- he wasn’t sure about this one. He wouldn’t put it past William to be elated over the chance to hurt him. Without repercussions. “Really?” His one ear twitched as he stared down, transfixed. Predatory animals, with two of their eyes in front. Human always have been predator and prey at once and Henry had known it from the very beginning, he had seen it in himself and others. It was merely more apparent in William specifically, him and his unstrained behavior controlled by nothing but instinct. “Really.” And yet still- this place was a hellish mess and his mind was just as much of one- it reminded him of back then, when William was utterly excited about an event. ‘Is it actually happening? Really?!’ Really. Pleased Dave laughed, loudly. An ugly laugh when you were on the receiving end. “I told ya, Henry. I told ya you’d do it.” “… you know me well.” Quietly he watched Dave move out, swiftly and nimbly- “… and you seem to know this place too.” “Is that why ya let me in?” “… not only. But I might as well ask you while you are here, correct?” “Hm.” His eyes wandered over Henry’s body. Probably wondering which limb he should separate from his body first. Henry shuddered. Dave got comfortable in front of the office table, smiling. Everything else had gone quiet, the power not even being visible anymore- But the timer was. Midnight. Putting his feet on the table and leaning back on the little chair that he had gotten from who-knows-where, the cyborg grinned.”… alright then! I was worried you’d might be disappointed, since I don’t know anythin’ about this place!” “You do not?” “Nah.” “… then how did you get here?” “Uhhhhh, probably for the same reason you’re here?” “… but you did not DIE.” “I didn’t?” Frustrated the Pink Guy leaned back too, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t going anywhere. “… what is the last thing you remember?” Cheerfully Dave giggled. “I don’t remember anything! Never had any memory! Head empty!” Henry wasn’t stupid enough to believe that. Dave liked messing with others- play-pretend stupidity that was aided by his genuine habit of being rather emotional- but they had spent far too much time together to have that work. “… I know you are lying.” Instantly the mood changed, even if Davetrap didn’t change the slightest bit about his pose. “Ah! Ya do? Or do ya just think ya do?!” Again he snickered. “Either way. I don’t know anythin’ that could be useful for you.” “Maybe I am not out for anything useful? Maybe I am simply worried about you and how you have gotten yourself into a suit?” Dave laughed, loudly, but Henry continued. “… do you need my help to get out of it?” “No.” It was cold. And Henry responded in kind. “… see that is how I know you are not down here for the same reason as me. So why are you here? Why would the one I should not have killed brought you here…? After all- you and me, we most likely killed him together.” Tilting his head slightly, the other guy inspected him and for a moment Henry tensed up, expecting to be attacked- but Dave simply relaxed, changing his pose, allowing his legs dangling over the side of the chair. “Hey, Henry! Did ya miss me?” All smiles and ice cream. “… it seems pretty lonely and borin’ in this office. And it feels like we haven’t talked in a long time…” For a moment the Pink Guy stayed quiet, watching the other one, who continued. “We’ve done so much fun stuff together! This place might not be all that bad if we stick together, right?” He paused. “That of course only means anythin’ if ya WANT to spend time with me. If ya miss me when I’m gone. So. Did you?” Slowly Henry stretched his fingers. “… of course I missed you, Dave.” Both of them watched each other, the air prickling. Then, once more, Dave was laughing again. “That’s why I like you, Henry. You can do such pretty things with your mouth and mind. Sayin’ JUST the right things. I always love when you talk to me. Or about me. Everything you say is like a charm, making things so much better than they actually are. The thing is- Henry- with a gift like that, I can’t ever know if ya MEAN it.” Leaning in, Davetrap inspected him, his big, white eyes almost all-consuming. “… if ya missed me, how come you’ve spent time with anybody but me recently? Ya invited plenty of people into the office. Despite knowing I was the one asking POLITELY for it.” Ridiculous. … yet Henry had to play along. “Please, remain calm my friend. I was talking to them first, because I was gathering intel. Last time I was not informed enough, and you seemed… displeased. Was I incorrect?” It was amazing how much emotion this mask could still show. Just below the rotting maw, the little shine, a grin and not a fun one, judging by how it didn’t reach his eyes. “You have an excuse for everything, don’t you Henry?” “Or perhaps I am simply being genuine and elaborate on my feelings and decisions as you ask me. You on the other hand seem rather hostile today. Would you like to explain why you are so aggressive towards me?” Both of them looked at the other, and while they couldn’t walk in that perfect circle that pacing and threatening humans always seem to fall into, their bodies still conveyed the same. Then, once again, Dave tilted into the other direction, his large ear following suit, smiling. “Aggressive? I ain’t aggressive, Henry! I’m just curious! Quit bein’ so tense all the time!” Slowly losing his patience, Henry rubbed his temples. “Okay, then. I do believe you are at least partially real. But logically you must have arrived from a different timeline than me, one where you died and got put into a suit. Why would you be so mad at me however?” Standing up from his chair, Dave slowly moved over, as Henry turned as far to the side as he could to keep an eye on him. “Ya need a massage, Henry.” “You know I dislike to be touched.” “Welp, is it MY fault you’ve made yourself so tense that you now need a massage?!” Offended the animatronic stopped, leaning down to him. Smelling like oil and peppermint. “Ya really should let me do what’s best for ya.” That WAS a threat. … at least if this thing snapped his neck, it would be quick, painless and unpersonal. Slowly and quietly Henry breathed out. “… alright then, Dave. Please continue.” Yet, even if he had made the agreement, didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about it. When the fuzzy fingers touched his shoulders he almost jumped, drawing another, somewhat sadistic chuckle out of his former friend. “It’s funny to see ya like this.” “I live to entertain.” Yet another chuckle. “… ya sure do.” The fingers starting massaging, digging themselves into and against the muscles causing Henry barely anything else but pain. Sure- him tensing up his shoulders didn’t help at all, but he couldn’t react any other way, the impulse to tense up was simply bypassing his brain. The other man behind him was simply humming his favorite melody. In the hall of the mountain king. “… remember when I taught you how to play it?” Trying to relax Henry began reminiscing. “Hmmm… yeah! That was fun! I dunno why people didn’t try to teach me an instrument before that, I think I would have really loved learnin’ it. Good that I met you!” “Indeed. Good that you met me.” … there was discomfort, a genuine feeling of worry. Fear? Was this fear? A fear not caused by the direct expectation of physical harm, but instead by- By what? He was probably just- not really comfortable with the thought of not having William in his grasp anymore. William was like him- and that was why he liked and why he despised him. Whatever came into William’s head, he would do and there was nothing Henry could do to prevent it. Part of him would be somewhat relieved if Dave just- murdered him right here and fast. … giving up so early wasn’t really his thing however. “Will- Dave.” “Yeah?” The guy was still squishing and mushing away at Henry’s shoulders, seemingly not caring THAT much about actually relaxing his friend. “What’cha want?” “… I only wanted to ask… do you like it here?” For a minute or so Dave paused, really thinking about it. “It ain’t the worst. I get to play with ya, no fuzz, no more havin’ to try and shut down Freddy’s or kill kiddens.” Slowly his focused back on Henry, his next words deliberate. “… don’t ya think so? Immortality and animatronics, what’s not to love? Sure, the torture is a lil’ sucky, but hey, ya said you’d do ANYTHING to become immortal.” Something scraped over the back of Henry’s mind. Was Dave being manipulated to comply? Sold a false image of perfection? … or was he simply trying to torment him, trying to fool him into thinking that he ever asked for this? Either way. Leaning back, Henry tried to look at him, choosing his next words carefully. “… while I appreciate my robotic works being with me and having no reason to fear death- I do dislike the repetitive loop at the unending threat of pain. I feel… bored. Do you not sometimes wish for variety?” “Everythin’ is a loop, Henry. Ya gotta be happy with the loop you get stuck in.” “… you need more ambition, Dave. Accepting and endless repetitive cycle is almost as low as accepting death. There is no perfection to be found in remaining with the same variables.” Dave sighed and retracted his hands, causing Henry to sit up straight. “It’s fine. It’s fine. You’ll never be happy.” “Excuse me?” “… what would ya still want, Henry? What is it that you’re lookin’ for right now?” “I-“ Shortly Dave leaned over to check the clock. “Whoops! Five AM.” Pleased he turned his head to Henry, who had stood up as well, trying to get some distance between them. “Ya know the rules! I’m inside, I gotta… keep ya busy. Give you a bit of a slap around.” “You will hurt me.” Henry’s voice was blank. He wasn’t really surprised. But the Springbonnie just shrugged. “Oh, well- I never said I wouldn’t. I said I’d help ya. Which I will!” Taking out his array of tools, from within the damaged parts of the suit. Of course Henry was familiar with them. Acid spray, a tool with sharp edges to scoop anything out, knives, a tool to part the tissue when needed- Cleaning. Disinfecting. Getting out an infestation. The psychopath was giggling to himself, as he sat the things down, Henry suppressing his desire to run away with all his strength. No point to it. It only would serve to make him look pathetic. More pathetic than he already was, in this senseless situation. “Ya know, I’m really happy I get the chance! Ya said ya were the Lord of the Flies… but you gave me the tools to get all the crawlers out. What will happen to ya? Will you be purified? Or simply emptied completely? Do ya think hell is there to make people into better versions of themselves?” No answer. He sighed, signing towards the chair. “Sit down again, Henry. I’ll make sure ya won’t die! Not even for a moment. You will see this procedure through to the end…” No escape. He knew the procedure. The body needed to be cut open, like an autopsy. This would lead to plenty blood going everywhere- William had never been a surgeon. Too impatient, too jumpy, too- careless. But after all, he didn’t try to put it back together- he wanted to clean it, fast and efficient. The stomach and intestines were first, cut open and then the lining was being scooped off. The stomach had nerves. Some of the rest of the organs thankfully didn’t. Eyes too, eyes had to go. The tongue as well- and then acid would be pushed up the nose, letting it sit there, Dave believing it would clean out the brain before he would have to drill into it. You would have to deal with less of a swarm exiting the brain like that. But before that? Heart and lungs. William was obsessively exact and radically reliable in how he did this section. He believed he had to be. There were no bugs crawling, no insects nesting in pockets of rotting flesh. But Henry doubted William cared. Nor did he himself care, as the all-consuming pain purged thoughts first- And mercifully, eventually, the life itself too.

#henry miller #Henry in hell #Dave Miller #Sometimes I forget that the one one-shot I wrote about Dave and Henry was semi canon #And then I write them interacting again and go 'wait why does it all sound like flirting' #Also Henry has such a fun view on getting killed every time I remember it I lose it again #god I'm tired I wrote this on four hours of sleep maximum be gentle everyone

[xsecretblastsx]

1x17 - Woman on the Verge

 wanted to do this one like two weeks ago, but alas it wasn’t possible. Just one more episode to go and season one will be done.. and I’m going to miss it. 

As usual recap’s under the break

Thoughts I had while watching:

Georgina is obssesed, she also looks fabolous.

I know is his brand of humour but still Dan cames across as really obnoxious, almost mocking his dad excitment about his performance for Rolling Stone. And I did watched VH1 clasics.

Rufus actually pointing out the fact that Serena probably lies to him because she’s afraid of what he will think because he’s really good at being judgy, and yet Dan doesn’t get it.

For real Dan’s like “so I should learn to be someone else around her so she can be herself around me” and I want to pull my hair out

It still surprises that Nate and Vanessa doesn’t bother me at all.

“Are you drunk dialing again?” the show always robbed us of the best stuff. What I wouldn’t give to see those calls. Just imagine it, drunk Blair, amused Chuck, priceless.

Most akward elevator ride ever. Well Chuck at least tried to be cordial, too bad Nate ignored him.

Dan is Serena’s number one on speed dial, no surprises there I guess.s

This such a glimpse of the old days, this was a routine they knew well and one can tell, the three of them helping a drunk Serena. And Chuck being pervy as usual.

I always forget Lily was into photography back in the day.

Dan asking if Nate, Chuck and Blair don’t hate each other, and Nate and Blair are like yes, and Chuck’s like no, never fails to crack me up.

Also I love how Chuck and Blair’s are so matchy here. They look good.

He has reason to be pissed I get it, yet Dan asking Serena for the truth as if he were the spanish inquisition is not the way to go.

“I had three perfect weddings, I want this one to be more perfect than perfect” I love Lily.

THe love Dorota has for these kids, never fails to warm my heart.

Blair and Nate pointing out how they’re not perfect and then Chuck is like “i’m Chuck Bass” like that’s the only explanation needed it, is probably my fave time in the series of him dropping that line.

“We’re the non judginb breakfast club” have I’ve mentioned how much I loved this scene? It’s I think the first time show explicitly let’s us know that the four of them were best friends before everything got messed up between them.

So Georgina was Chuck’s first, and I’ve always get the feeling there was some interesting history there, she going psycho on him, and him avoiding her ever since? Makes me wonder.

The Shepperd’s wedding ended up being more life changing for these kids than the bride and groom. 

Serena left the wedding wearing Nate’s shirt, how did Nate explained that? Where was Blair? 

The whole story of Serena, Pete and Georgina that night is awful, poor Serena keeping that secret for more than a year, it’s also really sad.

Lily’s words to Serena, are such a shame, sure she doesn’t know the facts and she’s worried about her wild daughter, but the fact is it only reinforces Serena’s belief that those that love her can’t see past her mistakes.

Seeing Lisa Loeb at Rufus concerct here it’s so weird.

Blair’s love for Serena, and viceversa is one of the best aspects of this show, and I just love how she went to Lily and set things right.

Nate taking the subway and calling Blair to give intel so she can scheme, it’s a brand new world for him.

Chuck’s always so gentlemanly with Lily, and I love it.

And Chuck and Blair are back for a scheme. Such a short bit, but is one of my faves of them because their faces are priceless, and it’s so them.

Ah Vanessa, always messing up stuff even when she doesn’t meant to. Thanks for letting Georgina know that the gig is up.

She may mess up constantly, but when she admits she is wrong and is actually there for her kids, Lily’s the best. 

The whole Georgina and Dan thing is so ugh to me. This whole plot is so messed up knowing the ending of this show.

I wish we had a glimpse of that limo ride between Nate, Chuck and Blair, with them trying so hard to ingore each other. Akward much.

Pretty much the way Chuck and Blair awkardly stand next to each other the minute Nate leaves with Vanessa.

“I’m a big Leaky Hawk fan” nice try Blair.

Is there somewhere a full recording of the song Rufus is singing? 

For once Georgina is right, Dan ain’t that good, and it’s time Serena realizes that.

I miss when one could take the battery out of the phone. I didn’t remember Georgina did that to Dan’s phone though. 

This episode deserves a spot in the hall of fame of Gossip Girl episodes if only for the fact that is the episode that gave us The Non judging breakfast club. This is an episode that let’s us know a lot about the past, we finally know Serena’s secret and in learning that truth we also learn about the bond between Serena and her friends, particularly Blair and also how her mother can actually do help her and make her feel better. There’s a lot of love in this episode and it’s something I didn’t particularly noticed the first time around. The scene where Blair speaks up and defends Serena against Lily and she actually listens and helps her daughter is one of those moments that really makes this show more layered. Blair is also so sweet and loving with Serena this episode, their friendship is the heart and soul of this show, and it was nice when the show focus on that rather on creating never ending conflict between them. 

The tale of what happened that night between Serena, Georgina and Pete seemed so much sadder to me this time around, because when one stops to think about it Serena is barely sixteen, and yet she’s already so caught up in a wolrd of sex, alcohol and drugs, and she was about to get a sex tape done about her without her knowledge, that’s really messed up, and she cames to this clusterfuck filled with guilt, we know by now the kind of friendship Serena and Blair have, about Blair’s insecurities and Serena’s not blind to this, she knows that what she just did with Nate is posibly the worst thing she could have done to Blair, it’s something that can be erased and it’s going to be more than likely the end of their friendship, it’s a nightmare, and then something even worse happens. It’s so much for a 16 year old, no wonder she runs away, and like Lily said it had a deep impact on her, and one of the reasons why she changes for the better. It was plain and simple the worst night of her life, and she’s deeply ashamed of it, and as such is hard for her to be honest about it, and it scares her to think what everyone would think of her.

Is the promise that no matter what they will support her that finally gets Serena to tell the truth to Nate, Chuck and Blair and when she does they  are so suportive of her, no hesitation, Chuck’s already been helping her with Georgina, and Nate is someone who would always be there for her, and Blair, they’re sisters, and she proves to her what she said last episode, she won’t let go. These are the people that really love her, that know her better than anyone, and it’s such a contrast to Dan’s attitude. 

Earlier today I got some asks about Dan and how he idealised Serena, she herself this episode said he puts her on a pedestal, and it got me thinking... on earlier recaps I’ve mentioned how the relationship started cracking when her past caught up with her, but there’s no way Dan by being Gossip Girl didn’t know about her wild past, he creates the site because he wants to find an in with her... but at that point she’s nothing remotely like the Serena he actually ends up dating, so why did he wanted to date her? If he hated that world, if she partied, lied, did drugs and was very unlikely to want anything serious? So what did he want? The only possible answer to me is that he went into this with his hero complex front and center, he wanted to date her to save her, to get her to be different, his perfect girl, the good Serena,  the one that only came to be when she dated him. 

I’ve been complaining about the show pointing out how good Dan was for Serena, that since he came into the picture she was differente, and how Dan bought into that, how he believe it and why he kept judging her when she didn’t comply to his way of seeing thigns, that he got pissed because in his mind he was like: realy hadn’t she heard everyone said he was good for her, so she should listen to his judgment, don’t prove him wrong in believing in her, but I was seeing as Dan gaining that belief because of the way things had developed between then and people, even Lily pointing it out, and now I kind of think he always thought it, even before he knew her, that she need him, and right now it’s making Serena’s comment of him having her in a pedestal not so good, because he has her in a pedestal not because he believes in her, but rather because he sees it as being all because of him, is almost a pedestal to his own ego. Maybe I’m seeing way into it, but the Georgina and Dan storyline makes me think all sort of crazy stuff.

I know the show didn’t knew Dan was Gossip Girl here, and people complain about this storyline the most in pointing out how that twist doesn’t make sense, but to me it sort of does, I can see it happening, is just that it makes Dan a 100 times creepier, because both him and Georgina are pretending, and this episode when he kiss her, it gaves way to different kind of arguments like maybe he kiss her because he wanted to hurt Serena, because he felt she deserved it, and he could do it because in the end it would never came across as the ugly action it was but rather as him being deceived by an evil manipulative mastermind and by the fact that Serena had led him to believe he cheated on him first. One can come up with many reasons to explain Dan’s actions, if one accepts the fact that he’s as manipulative and evil as Georgina since the start. The only difference between Dan in S1 and the one in later seasons is that he just felt he didn’t need it to hide anymore, and even then it was everyone else fault, they drove him to that point. 

It also makes more sense why he was so mad about Serena hiding stuff from him, because he already knew, and in his mind maybe he believe he could be magnanimus about it, to be like, see I still love you, of course like Rufus pointed it out, he never gave Serena a reason to believe he would actually understand her. Nest episode is the last one, and I’m really excited.

Random bits I’ve noticed:

That robe Serena’s wearing, if I’m not mistaken Chuck wears it too on a later season. I love consistency.

And talking about consistency, when Lily is going through her contacts list, not sure about calling Bart, the contact at the top of the list is someone called Amelia. Most likely the same Amelia that makes an appearance next episode.

#gossip girl #gossip girl recap #gossip girl rewatch #1x17 #woman on the verge

[maswartz]

IN THE PROGRESSIVE COLLEGE TOWN where I live, one sees a lot of “Bernie” bumper stickers on a lot of Subarus. Probably these are remnants of 2016, when the Independent from Vermont masqueraded as a Democrat, dividing the party and hobbling Hillary Clinton’s campaign just enough to fuck up the final tally. Although I held with HRC then as now, I don’t begrudge anyone who supported Bernie Sanders in the primaries four years ago, when we first became acquainted with the ugly font and awful shade of blue on his campaign merch. But to support him today, after Trump, after Mueller, is akin to insisting, on Christmas 2019, that despite ample evidence to the contrary, Michael Jackson is innocent, because you really dig Off the Wall.

“Don’t they know?” I scream when I see these Bernie stickers. “Don’t they realize who he really is?” Apparently not. But then, to them, and to most on what Sean Hannity might call the “radical left,” Bernie is not a person as much as an ideal: A sort of liberal Santa Claus who will come down our collective chimney to deliver free healthcare and free college, and, with the aid of his ineffable North Pole magic, break up the banks, slay the patriarchy, eliminate racism, end income inequality, and tax corporations into insolvency—all while raising the minimum wage for his workshop elves. How he plans to actually accomplish any of this he only hints at—Bernie rarely deigns to answer process questions and usually gets grouchy when pressed for details—but it all sounds so wonderful we want to believe, just as we every year insist that yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

Unfortunately, the flesh-and-blood Bernie Sanders, if elected, would not have the requisite power to fulfill his lofty promises—any more than the tipsy Macy’s Santa will leave the mall on a sleigh driven by flying reindeer. Bernie is a real person, and he is deeply, perhaps fatally, flawed. He would be a horrible candidate in the general election—like, McGovern-in-’72-level bad—and, more urgently, his nomination would ensure that, whoever won, the White House remained in Russian hands.

The Bernie extolled by the bros is a myth, just like the Trump that MAGA adores—just like Neverland, and just like Santa Claus. We need to face some cold, hard truths, before Sanders scolds and finger-wags his way to a second term for Donald Trump. We cannot permit this egomaniacal fraud to spoil yet another election.

Bernie is a socialist—but of the Union of Soviet Socialists variety.

Hey, there’s a reason Santa Claus wears red!

Bernie is a self-styled “socialist” who has bought, hook line and sinker, the Stalinist propaganda about Marxism and the glories of the Soviet Union. This was understandable if you were Dalton Trumbo in 1947. After all, the governing philosophy of communism is “let’s share everything so there is no want,” which is kind of appealing, especially next to the “fuck you, pay me” mantra of unvarnished Trump-variety capitalism. Seven-plus decades later, alas, the naïveté borders on delusional.

From the Young Peoples Socialist League to his membership in the Liberty Union Party, which sought to nationalize (and not just “break up”) the banks, to his time at the Kibbutz Sha’ar Ha’amakim, which extolled Stalin—who slaughtered more people than Hitler—as “Sun of the Nations,” to his hanging a Soviet flag in his Burlington mayoral office, Soviet boosterism is the thruline of Bernie's career.

Bernie took his wife to the Soviet Union for their honeymoon, as one does. For years, he extolled the virtues of the USSR. Rather than grok that it’s all KGB-fed propaganda and lies, he’s been a staunch Bolshevik apologist for his entire adult life.

I mean, the guy has a dacha, ffs.

Look, our healthcare system is flawed. I’d love some sort of universal coverage like they have in every other developed country. But the best person to promote the de facto nationalization of the healthcare system is not a Soviet apologist who once wanted to nationalize the banks, too.

Bernie is unpopular with Black voters.

To be fair, Sanders (likely) really does want equality and all those nice things he talks about. Good for him. The problem is that his vision of “socialist” utopia is absolutist and focuses too much on the (white, male) working class that he, like his beloved Marx, idolizes and idealizes.

Despite some high-profile Black supporters, Bernie remains unpopular with Black voters, particularly Black women. This, and not “the rigged DNC,” is why HRC kicked his ass in the primaries. Could it be that Black voters have made Bernie as a BS artist? Those are his initials, after all.

The failure of the United States to properly examine and make amends for slavery contributes mightily to the country’s enduring racism, on which MAGA feeds. Not to even discuss reparations is madness. Unsurprisingly, Bernie does not understand this:

Marcus H. Johnson@marcushjohnson

Bernie Sanders thinks reparations is "just writing a check" instead of a redress for state sanctioned terrorism, violence, and being shut out of the economic, political, and legal systems for 250+ years. How is reparations "just writing a check," and free college not?

Aaron Rupar@atrupar

Bernie Sanders on reparations on The View: "I think that right now our job is to address the crises facing the American people in our communities, and I think there are better ways to do that than just writing out a check." https://t.co/FXso34iSbs

March 1st 2019

470 Retweets1,065 Likes

To win the resounding victory necessary to defeat Trump and the Russian hackers threatening to sabotage yet another election, overwhelming African-American voter turnout is essential. Black voters are more likely to turn out in big numbers for Joe Biden—especially if he runs with Kamala Harris, as we K-Hivers hope—than yet another elderly New Yorker who makes pie-in-the-sky promises he can’t possibly keep.

Bernie is lazy.

Sanders spent the early part of his career flitting between low-paying odd jobs:

He bounced around for a few years, working stints in New York as an aide at a psychiatric hospital and teaching preschoolers for Head Start, and in Vermont researching property taxation for the Vermont Department of Taxes and registering people for food stamps for a nonprofit called the Bread and Law Task Force.

Then as now, he was more given to talking the talk than walking the walk. In 1970, the 30-year-old Liberty Union Party socialist was kicked out of a Vermont commune for not doing his share of the work. His days there were instead spent in “endless political discussion.”

Sanders’ idle chatter did not endear him with some of the commune’s residents, who did the backbreaking labor of running the place. [Kate] Daloz writes [in her history of the commune] that one resident, Craig, “resented feeling like he had to pull others out of Bernie’s orbit if any work was going to get accomplished that day.” Sanders was eventually asked to leave. 

Eventually, Bernie found a career that would allow him to talk a big game but accomplish precious little: politics. For the decades he’s been in Congress, his record is pretty scant. Seven bills in 28 years, including two that name post offices, is nothing to write home about (unless you’re writing home to one of those post offices)—although Sanders has been a quiet champion of gun rights for most of his Congressional career, as well as a dependable “nay” vote on Russian sanctions, so I guess there’s that.

But hey, I’m sure a guy who has avoided labor as assiduously as possible for 78 years will magically turn into a workaholic as an octogenarian. That heart attack no doubt jump-started his engines. Speaking of which…

Bernie is old, and he just had a heart attack.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t actually a heart attack. Maybe it was just a life-threatening cardiac issue that required emergency surgery. We don’t know, because Sanders has not yet released his medical report. But he has promised to do so, just as he promised to release his taxes and then waited a million years to make good. Will he bring the receipts before next week, as he said he would?

The Speaker's Basilisk⚖️@PelosiLegatus

Why hasn’t @BernieSanders released his medical records yet? He just has a heart attack three months ago, which he lied about. What is he hiding from the American people? Why is the press so afraid to dig into his dishonesty?

December 23rd 2019

173 Retweets444 Likes

Even if his medical report checks out, I mean…there’s ageism, and then there are actuarial tables. A President Sanders would turn eighty in 2021, his first year in office. That would make him the oldest first-term president by a significant margin. He can’t live forever; in that way, he’s not like Santa Claus.

Bernie is a misogynist.

That Bernie Sanders is some sort of radical feminist, a paradigm for how men should be in the post-Third-Wave world, is almost as ridiculous as his stubborn refusal to comb his hair.

Before he launched his political career, he was a deadbeat dad. Remember, Bernie was a graduate of the prestigious University of Chicago, in an era when college degrees were relatively rare. Instead of putting food on the table, he was running quixotic political campaigns as the standard-bearer of a barely functional party. As Spandan Chakrabarti writes:

In 1971, Vermont was debating a tenant’s rights bill. One of the testimonials to Vermont’s State Senate Judiciary Committee came from one Susan Mott of Burlington, who said the legislation did not go far enough in prohibiting discrimination against single mothers and recipients of welfare benefits. Mott had one child and was on welfare. That one child…was Levi Sanders, Bernie Sanders’ son. Which begs the question, why did Bernie Sanders’ (former?) girlfriend and his son have to be on welfare? Where was the University of Chicago graduate’s considerable marketable skills? What was 5-year-old Levi’s father doing that he couldn't afford to support his own child? It turns out he was too busy coming in third with single digit votes.

To be fair, Bernie did bring home a little bit of bacon writing stuff like this:

A man goes home and masturbates [to] his typical fantasy. A woman on her knees, a woman tied up, a woman abused.

A woman enjoys intercourse with her man—as she fantasizes [about] being raped by 3 men simultaneously.

Even if those lines were intended as a provocative rhetorical flourish to be shot down later in the essay, I mean…what feminist ally would write something like that?

And then there’s the more recent sexual harassment issues that seem to be pervasive in his campaign offices. He missed one of the Russian sanction votes because he was busy dealing with it:

The only one to miss the vote was Sen. Bernie Sanders, I-Vt. He was meeting with women who had accused his 2016 presidential campaign of sexual misconduct, his spokesman, Josh Miller-Lewis, told CNBC.

As if to confirm his misogynist bona fides, Sanders this month endorsed the candidacy of Young Turks founder Cenk Uygur, no feminist ally—before the bad optics forced him to reverse course:

“As I said yesterday, Cenk has been a longtime fighter against the corrupt forces in our politics and he’s inspired people all across the country,” the Vermont senator said. “However, our movement is bigger than any one person. I hear my grassroots supporters who were frustrated and understand their concerns. Cenk today said he is rejecting all endorsements for his campaign, and I retract my endorsement.”

That Cenk is running for the California seat vacated by rising star Katie Hill, a victim of criminal revenge porn who was shamed into stepping down, makes the gaffe even worse.

Bernie is not a Democrat.

Of all the idiotic narratives spewed by the “Bernie bros” about 2016, the most asinine was that the process had to be rigged because the DNC clearly preferred Hillary Clinton to Bernie Sanders. Um…why would it not? Just as a New York Yankees fan club would want its leader to be a ride-or-die Yankee fan rather than a waffler who rooted for either the Bronx Bombers or the Red Sox depending on which was doing better that year, so the Democratic National Committee wants an actual Democrat to be its nominee. Duh.

And this was not any nominee. HRC was practically funding the operation herself, to help with the down-ballot races Bernie could give a shit about. Anyone can scold the country about big banks and wage inequality, but to actually, you know, govern requires working well with other people, a skill that seems to have eluded Sanders for the last 30 years.

Alas, the incorrigible Senator has learned nothing from 2016. He’s still playing the hackneyed “rabble-rousing outsider” card:

The Hill@thehill

Sen. @BernieSanders: "We are going to take on the Democratic establishment."

December 22nd 2019

426 Retweets1,930 Likes

The election of 2020 is, or should be, a referendum on Trump. It’s not about taking on the Democrats. That sort of internecine divisiveness is exactly what Putin wants. Which makes perfect sense when we consider that…

Bernie is (at a minimum) a Useful Idiot for Putin.

The bots go on the offensive whenever I tweet that Bernie is a Useful Idiot for Russia. But he is Useful, in that he operates as a divisive force in the Democratic Party, which aids Putin. And he’s certainly an Idiot, in that he doesn't realize the damage he’s done. But does he really not know?

The Mueller Report makes it clear that Russian IC was helping the Sanders campaign. Either Bernie didn’t realize this, and is an idiot, or he did realize it and played along, and is a traitor. Either way, the guy who hired former Paul Manafort chum Tad Devine to run his campaign cannot be trusted with standing up to Putin and the powerful forces of transnational organized crime, no matter how passionate his anti-Wall Street screeds.

(Sidenote: Tad Devine is now peddling his Kremlin-y wares for Andrew Yang, which perhaps explains Yang’s recent remark that he is open to granting Donald Trump a pardon. This, needless to say, is disqualifying).

Put it this way: Are we sure that a Nominee Sanders—an almost-eighty-year-old who just had a heart attack—would not pick the Russophile cult member Tulsi Gabbard as his running mate? The “anti-anti-Trump Left,” as Jonathan Chait calls it, is alive and well, sharing, “in addition to enthusiasm for Bernie Sanders, [a] deep skepticism of the Democratic Party’s mobilization against the president.” So: traitors, basically. Would not Sanders, if given the chance, throw meat to this rabid fan base, if only to generate more adulation? Do we really trust the judgment of the guy who can’t ensure that his own campaign headquarters is not a hostile work environment?

Bernie still, years after the fact, cannot understand that he contributed to HRC’s defeat—just as he can’t see that his ideas about the Soviet Union and communism have been debunked. He doesn’t have it in him to realize, much less admit, he was wrong. And why should he? As long as well-meaning people—especially young people; especially young women; especially pretty young women—keep “feeling the Bern,” he will continue to happily soak up the attention, like the insufferable narcissist he is. Why Millennials support the guy instead of OK-Boomering him to oblivion is a head-scratcher. Maybe it’s because he was born two months before Pearl Harbor and is therefore older than the Boomers?

Bernie Sanders is the Trump of the Left. Repeat: Bernie Sanders is the Trump of the Left. He’s an egomaniac who believes his own hype, like Trump. And like Trump, Bernie is selling snake oil; we just happen to like his brand of snake oil. He’s a bad mall Santa, promising everyone a pony, when all he can deliver is a lump of coal. And make no mistake: far from assuring a worker’s paradise, his nomination would bring about the end of the republic.

It’s not a “revolution.” It’s a con job. And it’s got the full support of the Russians.

#bernie sanders

[clarafell]

"homura-chan..." the young serial killer murmured whilst standing within the darkness of madoka's kitchen, branding for what it seemed to be a bloodied knife. "i'm so sorry, but, I couldn't let her do this to you...." even his face had some blood on it & so did the floor, as well as the nearby counter. "you hardly even sleep anymore.." but madoka herself seemed to be strangely missing. "so... i just killed her." that was until he moved aside, revealing her dead body. "do you hate me...?"

Listen to this song for some happy thoughts!

↳  @delightful-envy​

                     It was pleasantly quiet on the this afternoon. She planned on kicking back and relaxing after a long night of fighting witches. Today had been going so smoothly since it was finally the weekend. It meant that she could catch up on her sleep or even going shopping. Homura had been caught off guard when the peaceful afternoon was disturbed by the sound of Kyubey. The cat-like creature’s voice was stressed but overall emotionless. Still such a cute voice according to Madoka or Mami. Maybe she could hang out with someone. Maybe Envy would like to come over? After she took a little nap just to be more well rested to avoid falling asleep with Envy again. Alas, Kyubey ruined her peace and quiet—

                   Hurry, Homura Akemi, hurry!

    Kyubey warned her that something was wrong and it was at the Kaname household. With the mother of Madoka at work and her father seeming to take her little brother to the park, Homura had no clue that the house was empty. She knocked once or twice in a quiet manner, hands not giving her the strength. She looked into the windows, frightened at the silence. Kyubey didn’t go into detail but he told her to hurry. She had been quick to call Mami in advance, telling her to meet up. But Mami was running late and Homura had arrived at the house first. Bright as always on the inside and brimming with happiness from the little garden filled with tomatoes and other plant life, Homura knew where Madoka’s house was. She had been hesitant, knocking harder before she turned the door knob to reveal that the door was in fact open. If it wasn’t open, she would have done the unthinkable and smash a window in or even slip into the Madoka’s normally cracked open door. It was how Kyubey himself often got in, anyway. Homura was so foreign when she stepped inside Madoka’s bedroom in the past timelines, always in awe over how cute the room was. (It was such an honor that she got to be in the same room that Madoka slept in and spent her days in. It warmed her heart that she had been invited inside Madoka’s home in the past timelines. Madoka trusted her so much to do that… Or maybe she was just friendly.) She met her parents a couple of times now in different timelines. She has already seen plenty of pictures of her little brother whom Madoka adored, liking to take plenty of pictures. They liked to draw together. Homura joined in one time as she was invited to eat dinner at the Kaname household just a few days ago. It was so pleasant, the food melted into her mouth. Her father cooked so good and her mother chatted with her, making her in awe over how cool her mother was. Madoka had been flustered with how many questions her mother asked of Homura. It was a pleasant time where Homura actually had a homemade meal and not some sort of little meal with a convenient store like instant ramen or something.

   Homura forgot what it was like to have a family dinner yet alone a warm meal. Such a fond little memory. Even her parents were so nice and so caring even to some stranger. They were wonderful parents and a wonderful couple with such a strong bond that made Homura also smile. But on this lonely afternoon, the parents were thankfully away and so was her little brother. What would have happened if they saw Homura just break into the house and looking for any form of danger? They would think that she was losing it or something. Maybe she was losing it, a little voice in the back of her head muses as the paranoid female wanders the empty household in search of danger. Of anything. Of Madoka. But when she stumbled into the kitchen that was unusually dark, Homura had spotted a figure. Still clad in her uniform, Homura had froze up in her spot at the sight of Envy. She had told him of Madoka in her tired nights, telling him of the dinner she had with Madoka and her family. Telling him how she forgot what it was like to eat such a well prepared and steaming meal. She told him that she wished she could repeat that cherished event over and over. After all, Homura told him of her days when she was gone for a bit in order to catch him up on her current events. She trusted Envy and she also liked to tell him anything new except the puella magi business that she often kept under wraps. F͙̘͍̠̽̂́ọ̻̠̝ͣ̉͂ͤ̾̈́r͔͍̺͖͚̠̄ ̡̬̳͉̘ͪͧ̈́͗ͫ̑h̊͛i͓̓͊ͪs̬̖͓̓̇̃̿͠ ͉̦̞̟̜̹ͨ̓s͖̣͙͇̫̤͍ͭ̒̿̔ͬ̀a̟̟̥͙̼͈̺͘f͑ͥ̋ͧͪ͏͖̺̼͉͙e̸͈̫̺̯̅̊ͧͅͅt͍̯̣̰̒͞y̪̖̟͐̇ ̢̻̲̳̰̣̥̹̍̒ͮͩ̓̓͒āṋ̪̱̙̤̇̒ͤͬͤ̚d͔̜͉̹̜̦͉̓ͪ̃͂ͥ̑̾ ̪͑̿͂͆͊h͚̗̗͊͌̇ē̡̼̹̆r̙̻̭ ͖̖̬͇̰̲̃ͣͣ͛͂s̵̫͚̦̙̦̳̍̍̊̇̔ͩ͌ä͇̳͎́̽ͨ͌ͫn̛̞̳̗̭ͥ̐i̤̦̘̟t̼͓̬͎̞͑͘y̫̜̖͕̐͒ͦ.̷̣̮̹͆̽͐ͩ

      “Envy?”  When she saw Envy, her first instinct was to just look at him and his face. She had spotted the blood on his face and her first instinct was to assume it was his blood. Her tone had been worried and surprised as she peers at him, mouth opened to stare at him. She took one step closer, arms at her side as one of them raises to reach out a hand. But she pauses at the sight of his bloodied knife and that was when the familiar, sickening scent of blood hit her harshly. She went pale at the smell and her stomach lunges forward in disgust, feeling her world go dizzy. She was never able to stomach blood so well even with all her fights and her wounds and the deaths. She was handling it better compared to her first days as a magical girl. “Envy, why are you here? Its…” She is pausing on her words, almost about to say that it was dangerous. She was still in the automatic mindset that the culprit of the silence and the blood was a witch. Her eyes land on Envy’s body, violet eyes scanning to look for any symbols on any exposed skin. For all she knew, the witch’s kiss mark could be on his tongue. But her search and her senses stop for a moment upon hearing the apology. He truly meant it, she knew for a fact. That tone of voice. He was sorry, but for what?

                  H͕͎ͦ̚̕͝o̢̹̩̤̩̤̊ͬ͑͜͟m̸̙͔̥͙̈͊ͦ͑̿͒ũ̼̮̭̳̯̲̬̊̌ͣ͋̃̓r̯̤̟̺̜̻̗͖̪̓ͯ͆̃͝a̪̫̭̰̘̱̬͐͗ͣͭͣ̇̒ ̺̺͖̗͖̼͗́̕A̤̾̍̿ͧ̋̇͡k̷͍̗̯͕ͤ̈ͨ͂̉̂̌͞e̶̟̱̼ͯ́͛̃̃m̮̤̂̒̈́ͪ̒ͨ̕i̻͎̤̭̝ͥ̒ͥ̚, t̥̘̟̱͎͖̑̀̋ͣh̏ͦͧ̂̏i̺̱̣̦̣̅̈́ͨ͐ś͈̖̥ͮ͂ͨ̚ ̲̋̽̑̂̉͒ͯh̞̟̬͓̀̎ͦuͭͣͨͪ̏ͫm͇̺̻̞̿a̒͑̾͐ͬ̀̔ṉ̥̳̙̾ ̘ͯͬ̊̚ḵ̮̜ͥ̋̐ͩͫ̚ǹ͑o̙̹w̪̗̎̅s̘͛͂ͤͩͬ̾ ÿ̸̸́ͫͭͫ̏͋͗̃͏̸̜̣̠̳̱̮͎ō̴̡͇̙͕̩̉̐̾͑̀́͡u̴̯̮͚̩̦ͥͮ̊͌̓ͥͫͧ̅́̇͋ͅr̾̑ͮ̓͐͒ͩ̉ͦͭ̆͒̓ͩ͂҉̸̸̡̮͈̮̞̫ ̧̛̫̻͍̙̞̼̪̣̣̲̥̘̍̌͛͐̒́ͅn̨̢̛̦̠̺̘̲̅ͮ̾̊͛͒ͮ̓̋ͦ̿͌͆̄͂ͬͧ̎͟͝ͅả̸̷̮̲̮̜͎̳̭̠̙͈͈̠̠͎̭̲͋̐̽̽ͫͩͨ͝m̬͚̤̭̬͉̯͈͖̯̭͕͎͇͔̯̠̪ͦ̐͐̽͋̾ͨ̐͌̓͛ͫ͊̔̽̀͘e̷̷̜͍̝̹̺̯̲͈͎̣͔͆ͩ̓ͥ̊ͨ͐̈́̀͊̆́͟ͅͅͅ!̒̒̊̽͊͊ͦͨ̄̄͘͏͏̷̲͇̜͕̬̹͈̘̫̪̺̗͙̪͍͝ͅ

        It sounds roughly like Kyubey.

                 …c̡̺̭̪̯͟a̧̛̲̞̳͞ǹ̫͜ ̡͙ y̸̧̯̣̙̖̫ͪ̄̾̈̈̍ͪ̇̀ͧ̑͝ǫ͈̠̖̝̩̦̩͚̘̻̀̐ͫ̿̉͆ͩ͊̽̈͛̊͊ͣ̆̿͆͜͠u̴̬͉̭͇̹̦̫̞͓͔̳ͪ̌̐̿̀ ͏̧̬̭̥̺̪ h̻̠̯̟͚̪̙͔̲ͣ̐ͤͬͫ̇̅̊́͜͝e̸̞͓̗ͩ̍̔̓̎̊ͭ̑a̗̞̱̝͂͑ͨ̈́̂̋́r͍̙͎͉̲̈́̕͟͡ ̗͉͎̲̳̘̹͎ͫ̍́͘͠m͑ͧͭͣ̆͏̩̳̱̕ͅê̥̙͈͊͟?̧̖̹̹̱͖̝̬͇͆̉͋ͮ͑ͬ͊̋̏ͅ!̵̱͔͛̓̑̾̑́ͩ̒

       That sounds like Mami’s voice—

         Maybe she didn’t hear Kyubey or hear his telepathic remarks. She also didn’t hear the worried remarks of Mami, who was trying to communicate with Homura as she rushed to the scene. Maybe her mind didn’t want her to catch on. Maybe she didn’t want to believe the warning bells in her head. Maybe she wanted to blame the witches on all of the world’s evil or tragedy. The floor and the counter were covered in blood. Splatters of it but not as bad as the pool of blood that Envy stood in. He was shielding her from what lays dead behind him. But upon hearing that keyword, Homura felt chills run up her body again and this time she had actually acknowledged them. “Envy, what do you mean that you’re sorry…”  She began and stopped and soon felt a horrible pit in her stomach, realizing that she did not see Madoka so far yet. Something happened. For a moment that felt like ages, she wanted to believe that Envy had killed an intruder that got inside the house. But that, she knew, was very unrealistic since Envy himself was the intruder. As Envy stepped aside to reveal the body of the pink haired classmate, Homura had let out a strangled cry that soon morphed into a scream. Her hands flew to cover her mouth as she stares at the body, unable to believe her own eyes. This must be a nightmare. W̲ͣ͐̉̚ĥ̶̨̥̩͖͝ỹ̷̵̯͎͉̂̐̅͐ͭͨ̀͝ͅ ̸̨̘̦̣̱̞̟̯͕͓ͩ͑̑̀̓͒͗ͯ̃w̴̷̦̟̝̖̖̬͐̾̔͛̏͆̿̍o̢͎̠͙̦̜̪͇͗̓̍ͯ͜u̷̳̫͉̜̤̖͎̞͋̈͛͊ͯ͟͠l͈̬̫͐ͭ̕͟͜d̻͇͚̥̜͈̺͚ͯ͗̓͗͞ ̊͊͞҉͙͔͕̦̮̠Ë̱̩̖̪̪́̎̋̒ͪ̃͂͢n̢̨̤͍͋v̷̸̫͐̍̕y̸̜̭̭ͭͥ̈́́͠ͅ ̩̭̱ͮ͘d̵̢͍̫͎ͪͮ̇̊ͬ̄̅ͭ́õ̩̗̙̞̅ͭ̋͞ ̴̛͚͖͖͊̌ͮ̐ͥ͋̉̃t͔̞͈̰̥͑̂ͯͮ̔̍͋̓̉͜h̙̗̩̩͓̙ͯ̆̆̎̂̀́͞ḭ̱͓̹̻̞̻̺̊̉̐̑̅͝s̻̘̩̱̟̮͚ͫ͐ͤͯ͒ͯͤ͆͟͠?̴̖͕͉̭̫̦̄͛ͩ͗̎ Homura couldn’t stop picturing the sound of Madoka’s screams and pleas for help as tears begin to run down her face. Messy, ugly tears that was soon followed by ugly sobs and violent shakes of her head. That denial in her head and heart were strong. She knew of his killings, she knew of them but she never knew who he killed. W̧̯̯̲̳͍͊̃a̤̲ͩ̾̍͆s̶̲̖̫̓ͦͬ̒̿͛̋̾̓ ͉̬̼̭̠̭̻͙̩̔ͭ̎ͫ͑͑̏̃͜s̼͓̀̍̍̔̋̿͡ͅh̸̠͓̟̹̉̍̕e̷̫̥̻͈̝̲͎͌̈̓͊́̉͡ ̲̗̟̬͇͈̻ͣͭ̀ͣ́̋͋̊̊̀s̗̳̆̑ͯ̎͗͌̚ͅo̸͇̖͎̺̭̭͈̖ͮ͋̓̓ͪ̎̆͛̾͢ ̸̡̩͉̥͚̮̥̯͐ͤͭ̒̾̚̚͝s̹͙̺̫̖̥̺̻ͣ̅͌ͣ̊̈ͯ̀͜e̢̹̠̞̦̭̟̭̤̋̒ͩ̏̾̀͑́̚͢l͚̪͕̗̱͙͆̇̈́͑͒ͤ̐̀͞f̨̩͍ͮ̓į̨̮̱͇͇͐͐ͮ́ͫ̔͒̔s̺ͥͫͤ̎h̤̘͇̽͐̚͞ ̣̼̜̙͙͔ͣ̍̅ͦ̚͜͠ͅṱ̷̷̞̗̱̍̎ͬ̇o̠̯̗͉͂̅͂̉̆̂̂ ̳̱̙̰̞̲͒̒́c̶̙̻̏ͧ̏ͭ̋̅̾̚r̢̩̟̼ͯ̈́̓ͣ͑̓̀ͅy̨̛̗̩̳ͩ͡ ̞͎͕͓̣̒͑̋̂ͯ͠a̸͈͚ͦͣ͂n̢̜̹̳̲̎̌͋d̡͙̤ͯͥ̒̋̒͋̆̈́̎ ̶̷̘͖͎̋ͤ̃w͖͇̬̭̭̾̏ͫ̃ͮ̿ͧͦ̈͟͞o̟̮̘ͣ̅ͧr̖͓̪͕̋̈ͮͥ́͡r̷̡͎̭͉̣͗̾̈́y̷̨̦̳̏ ̢̩̠̩̯̬͖͔̩ͣ̌͐́f̨͍͓̺͗̈ͬͦ̒̌̇͛o͖̮̦͇͉̾̉͆ͦ̕r̗͎͍̯̦̻̘̿̅̊ͩ ̥̰͍͇̠͖͙̦̻ͤM͕̻̘̖̻͚̯̋͌ͪͧ̏̎̐̌a̢̦̩̼̅͐̑̏d̵̪̟̔͆͊o̷̮͔̻̖̦͋͂̒̌ͫ̚̕k̸̢̳͓̙̖͎̝̈́ͯͪ̾̚͠ả͓͈͉̘̲͢ ̮̠̰̦̣͙̺̉͊ͅb̶̴̲̝̫̦̾̊̊͐ͥ̆u̽̇̇̿͠͏̭̞̬͍͠t̛̤͔͎͙̝̭͗ͧͅ ̨̛̫̪͔͍͙͉͈ͯ̋͆̓̊͜n͓̙̯̭ͫͮͫ͟o̡̲͇̲̯͛ͦ̍͝ț̰͖͈ͩ̔ͦ ̰̬͖͎͈̰̹͎͉̈̄͢t̲̺͊̈̎ͧ̿̈́h̬̩̓̍ͮ̇͆̚͠ḙ̜̗͊ͨ͛̽̐ͪ̉͜͞ ̶̜͉ͪͮ͂ͤ̓̒̾r̷̼̮̱̬̈̇ͩ̄̔̇͝ͅe̡̻̗̲̣̩̽̾͑̈́̇͊͞ͅs̱̤̞̥͍̭͓̥ͯ͒ͭ̓͑ͦ͌͌t̴̜̯͓̱͎̆ͣͫ͛̕ ̹̘̙͈̯ͨ̔̊ͤͥ̇̀͝o̵̰̞̹͈ͭͩͩͦf̵͙̦̰̯̺̳̙͎̾̓͆͆̀̃̇͡ͅ ̴̨̜͕̎ͯͤ͌̔̀h̛̥̦̳͍̔̿ͣ͊̾̉̀ͯ͟i̢͉͙̘͉̤̊ͥ̾̾͢s̷̰̭͚̐̌̉̇ͦ̊̌ͣ͝ ̸̡̤͇͈̜̖̳͔ͮ̓̎ͦv͇̱̘͍͈ͣ̃̌iͨ̇͏̛̭̺̝̙̫ͅč͓̗ṭ̱̦̘͔̬̳̬̑͑i͎̥̱̲͋̇m͑̿̽ͥ͊̒́̕͏͔̺̖͈͙̳̩s̸͈̯̥̭͈̮ͬͭ ̨͖̅̍ͅt̶̝̘͒̐̒͑ͫ̽͘ǫ̷̻̹͗̉̎̚͘o͕̥̻̖̓̂ͥ̒ͬ̊̐͆?̷̨̪̻̦̺͓͙̹̗̝̐̾ͭ̆̊͊͛͘ How could she be so selfish and just cry for Madoka? Shouldn’t she cry for all of his victims? Or has she just tuned them out, wanting to believe that they never existed? Homura hated how her thoughts were spiraling out of control. Why couldn’t she stop these tears? At least her crying and the dark light made it harder to see the body of Madoka. She was almost glad that her head was looking over to the left instead of the right. If Madoka’s head had laid in the pool of blood and stared at her with eyes of betrayal, Homura would had fallen to the floor and to her knees. Oh, thank goodness Homura didn’t have to see her expression or her eyes.

          He did it for her but she never asked for him to kill Madoka. She had struggled to stand as she leaned on the counter before her legs started to buckle down and fail her. She had peered at the body of Madoka, already seeing enough of her blood as it was in her dreams. She stared at the body, feeling numb and hurt at the same time. Oh, she had hoped that Envy had finished her off quick. No, no! That was not the way she should think… But if Madoka had gotten a swift and quick death, it would have been over at least less painfully. As Homura peered at the body, she forced herself to look up at Envy as she avoids the blood on the counter while using it to support herself. She felt sick to her stomach and even worse with the fact that her horror was turning more into emptiness instead. Was she truly getting used to seeing death if she was feeling so empty? Like a pumpkin with all of the guts inside being removed, the dark haired girl would stare at Envy. She felt horrible, unable to figure out what her emotions were. She didn’t know what to feel or say or think. H̴̨̤̲̘̼̀̎͌̋ͪ̎ͨ͂͗̈́͌̚e̷̫̩͎̬̲͓̦̻̥̰̣̥̤̹̼̘͈̜̎ͭͣ̎̆ͦ̏ͩ̃͆̉ͣ͊̿͠ͅ ̷̢̨͓̜̩̟̩̱̼͔̊ͤ̽̾͋ͬ͑̌ͤͨ́̐̏̅ͯ̓͜͡ḑ̟͓̖̳̬̤̣̜̫͋̍ͭ̈́̾̊̑͂ͫͥͩ͒ͭͤ̚͢ĭ̅͒̇̐͗̏͐͑̿ͭͫ̈̍͂̄͋͑͐҉̢͠͏̸͎̞̮̫̜͖ͅͅd̸̡͈͓̯̳̙̗̰̐ͪ͋̐ͤ̈͑̍ͪ̉ͫ̌ ̵͒̈́ͥ͗̐̀ͯͤ̒ͭ͏͈̬͍̙̦̙͓͓̫̞͓͇͘͡i̾ͬ͑̽̔̓ͪ̊ͧ͊͒̋ͭ͒̂͟͏͕̦͍̘̮̺̪̹t͛̈́͐ͮͨ̋҉̛͏̻̮̟̻̖̞͞ ͙̭͔̠̯͇̺͙͉͇͚̰̳̥͈̯̙͈͗̿̔̏̄̉̊͌ͥ͋ͮ̚͡͞f̸̡̦͉̗̥͉̣̥̬̠̺ͧͩ̄̔ͪ́͢͠ô̸͇̮͎̱̤̖̮͕̝̲͑̃̔͋̓̇͞ͅr̷͉̠̩̞̱̱͉̼͎̹͇̣̙ͪ̓͌ͣ̆̈́ͪ̇͂͒ͨ͜͝͞ ̴̾̽̉̒ͪ͋͟҉̬̣͓̦̭͎͖̀͢h̶̢̗͈͙͍͈̲̘̞̯̞͓͇ͭͫͩ̈̇̓̀̈́̑ͯ̆̇͑͐ͦ̈̔͜͝e͖̝̰̭̟͔̪̬͙̣̩̺͖̦̭̭̣͕ͪ̍̀̓ͤ́̑́͡͡r̋͆̈͑̾̽ͫ̔ͫ͌̔҉̨͙̥̘̙͕͓̰̟̳͜ͅ.̡͙͉̠͉̭̹̮͚͉͈̝̥̖͇́ͧ̓͝ͅͅ This was her fault. If she would have taken medicine to help her sleep and force herself to make a better sleep schedule, this wouldn’t have happened.

            “Envy, y-you… You d̰̝̩̗͔̞̼̀͒̑ͤ͑̓ͨ̋ͨ̿ͮͯ̿͋́͜͞i̴̸͉͓̝̙̙̫̻̲̠̝͍̬̠̯̇̽ͥͨ̓̊̆͒̇ͧ̎ͯ̓͋̔̓̇̚͘͘d̴̩̙̣̼̲͍̹̺̬̩͈͇̂ͣͥ̆̈̕͝n̷̡̟̦͚̯͓̺̺̯̩͕̮͙͖̺̗̰̗ͨ̉̄̾ͯ͊ͥ̽͆͐͌̚ͅ’̢͈̰̥͙̰̜̟͓̒̓̄̆̅́͞t̟̻̳̖̝͇̯͉̣̪̄ͪ̆̒́̕ ̴̴̢͔͎͉̮̝̟̙̩̞ͩ̀̎͒̆̊̎͟h̨̢̧͉͇̫̹͐͛ͦͩͬ͐̿̓ͤͣͬ́̾̈́́a̵̛̤̹̬̮̻̹̞̖ͨ̄̅̓̿ͧͥͪ͛͋ͩ̎̒̀͑̊̃͜v̧͓̮̝̮͉͈͖̜̟̪̟͙̟̺̩̞̦̻͖ͤ͆̈̂̓̎ͧ̀̚͘͝e̛͉̩̪̭͖̖̦͖͓͇͔̜͖̓̋ͭ̽͛̈͆̿̄̎̏̀̚͘͟ ̴̶͛̄̈ͪ̎́̌͑̄̒͏̳̖̻̲̙͙t̞͇̯̳̞̦̯̰̮͕͎̩̻̙̫̫̳͋̉͛͛͑̾ͩ̈ͪͫ̾ͧ͑ͦ̚͟o̧̢̦̭͚̖͎̱̗̲̙͈ͩ̎̑̍̈ͤ́ͮ̀̃̓̃̒̕͟͝ ̶̖̣̗͈͚̣̺̹̖͚̩̦ͭ̑̊̍̍́ͨ͆͌͞ͅď̳̲̱̋̎ͦͭ̊̓̒̂ͮ̆̆̔̾̎̏̀̚͝o̧̜̱̮̫̙͚̹͇̮ͥͬ͒̽̽̓̿̈ͬͬͣ̈́͐ͧ͛̾ͤͅ t-this for m-me. She…she…” Homura was surprised to hear her own voice as her body trembles, tears refusing to stop. “I could h-have gotten better with my sleeping on my own. You d-don’t understand… It wasn’t Kaname-san’sf̨̪̟̣͉͙̪̬̄ͭͨ̔̊̉ͥ̾́͗̆͌͋ͣ͛̀̚ͅa̢̼̜̤̩͓̜̲͇̺͎̳͖̦̪̱̯͇̪ͮ̓̍̈̽̀͝u̷̷̧̪͖̟̘̬̘̻̙̝̲̺̜̜̹̗̜͖̻͊ͤͨ̍͒̒ͫ͛̕͜l̢ͦͤ̉́̆ͤ̔̊ͪ̀̀ͥ̓̓̒͟͏̖̘̮͖̰͔̖̼̩̳͎͟t̛̳̳̙̻͔̭̭̻͚ͤ̋̑̋ͧ̍̔͌̿͐ͮ̀͐…” Homura found herself using her sleeve to try to wipe away all the tears and even the snot from her running nose. What could she even say? This was all her fault for being so careless enough to trigger Envy into killing someone so precious to her. “Oh, Envy— You—” She should have been rightfully angry at Envy for doing this. She should pick her over him and avenge her name. In her mind, there was conflict over what to do. How was she going to explain this to Mami? The veteran magical girl had no idea about Envy and certainly would have warned her to stay away from him. Scold her for being around such a dangerous person. She would look at her and be disappointed in her. She would blame her for Madoka’s death if Homura told her the truth. But in this blurry moment, all Homura felt was the urge to mourn and to sit in a corner and cry. She stares at Envy, having a hard time with composing herself back to a whole person instead of pieces.

           Ḍ͇̪̪̣͇̠͔͕͓̦̖̪̣̯͈̺͓́ͥ̊͋͜o̸̎̅ͣͤ̋̉͋ͬ̆̈́̓̔̈͋̋͠͏̶̘̘͎̥̪͎̱̣͎͎͕̬̱̤̞ ̶̴̳̬͈̲̙̬̺ͥ̔̀ͣ͂̕͘͜y̶̴̧̳̤̟̹̜̮̜̳̦͚̖͎̤̪ͪ̈́̿̃̏ͫ́̈́ͭ͋̍͐̏͡ô̘̗̞̠̹̲̭͍͚̗̫ͮ͌̅̏̒ͮ̑̉̇̈͋́͟ͅu̡̟̤̳͖̰͙̫̝̙͇̩̠̭͚̰̞̍̀ͪ͑͆̒̾ͬ̅͌ͯͦ̏̏͒͐́̀ ̯̘̙̪̆ͩ̈́̇̓̉͜h̶̼̦̼̯̱͍͛̂̓̄̅̈̑̋̇͑̍͗̆ͫ͊͗͜͡a̶̤͎̫͙̖͎̖͔̼͖͖̩ͤͦͣͤ́ͭͭ̑́́ͅͅt̢̠̱̤̜̝̙̜̰̠̠̭̝̯̘̭ͥ̄̌̀̃͌̚͢͞e̴̡̙̣͕̦̣̙͙̿̈́̋̃̿͆̿͌̓̑̈̌ͧ͑̓̐͞ ͔̻̜͍̭̩̞̟̬͉̹̭̣̘̪͈͕̗̋ͪ̓̌͌̕͡m̓̃̃̓͒ͯ͗͂̈͗̄̒ͭ͂̿ͥ͆͂҉̴̘͈̮̲̹̘͠e̿ͬ̉ͬͨͣͭ̉̈́͏̥̱̖̲̭̼̲͕͎͓̦͎͚̠̻͞?̶ͫ͛̅ͬ̂̍̓̂̾̔̇̾̾ͫ͌͂ͣ҉͏̠̣͇̪̤̤̮̭ Oh, his voice sounded so quiet and so curious but so hurt. She couldn’t tell if he was scared of her own answer as Homura stares at him, trying to find her voice again. As she opened her mouth to speak, the sound of multiple gunshots were heard. Mami had arrived and quickly registered the scene as dangerous. She had shot Envy with her grand rifle, silver and quick as ever. Mami had been fast and silent and very quick to rush over to Homura. It was Mami who took care of the messy scene and brought Homura into an embrace, telling her to stay over at her apartment. Homura was quiet the whole night at Mami’s apartment, refusing to sleep. She remembered watching on the news that very morning of the police taking out the two bodies. Alone and eventually leaving the concerned and yet morning Mami, she had returned to her own lonely apartment. She remembered going to the funeral for Madoka. She remembered crying over the casket of her dear friend. Envy, however, didn’t have a funeral and no one seemed to really care. (W͈̞̤̝ͩ̂̀h͚̠̉̏̇͌y͗̌͢҉̭̪̬̫͇̰̳ ̛̗̣̝̺̰̯̹̦̽ͯ̏ͦw̸͐ͥ́͘͏̼̻͉̰͓̹̭̙ͅa̻̒̄̈́̆̂s̶̥̦̑ͭ͐͛ ͖̞̞̬͓͖̜͑̋̃ͨ̊ͮ̀ͫ͞ț̴͚̻͎̬̎̔͋ͧ͘h̏͑ͤ̄͗̈́̚͏̺͙͎̥ͅi̴̙̠̣̰͕͓̗̩͂̈́͛ṣ̸̵̯̻͖̏̎̈́̇̈́ ̴̩̮̬͂̓͊̈͌ͤ̐̽̔ẉ̠͖̫̲̼ͮ͠͞ͅo̢̥͍͗͐̅ͬͧ̽r̜͈̩̻̓͗̀̀͜l̸̙̝̻̥̄ͩ̅͑̏͋ͦͥ͜d̩͕̫̰̗̥̠̉͟ ̵͎͓̋͟ş͇͖͈͔ͣ͗̍̓̉͛ͪ̀o̷͔͙̭̖̪̟̽͂ͮ̀ͫ̿ͥ͊͛ ̫̹͚̣̻̯̠̎̽ͪ̾̔ͪ̿̓͘c͕̩͚̹̹̰͛́͊̏ͪ̅͘r̴̡̝̠̜̦̫̲͚͙̊̒ͨ͟u͈͓͖͇͚̘ͧͦ͆͐̊̃̾͗e̴̦̙̩̜̟͖̣͖ͫ̀͒͋̑ͤ͗ͤ̌͢l̡̞̂͋̊͋̅ͦ̓͘ ̮̖͈̪͍̉̽ͭ̀̑ͥ̀̕t̢ͧͪ̆͐͌ͨͬ̀͏͕͙͓͙̗̟̥õͯ͌͂̿͆̈͏͇̙̱̻́ ̶̫̣͂͊e̡̻̳̝̗̘̜̖̳̓̄̌̓͊͐̍̋ͅv̧̦̜̫̱͓͉̦ͥ̽ͭ̎͊̇ͧ̈́͞͠e̶̺̩̖͎̼̦̊ͣ̈ͪ̇ͣ̈́͜ȑ̸̡̯̼̹͓̦̖̺̑ͩͧͫ̊y̛̙̜͌́ͦ̒ͤͅ ̨̙̙̼̣̝̈́͊ͪ̓̽̌͌͊̕s̨͕̠̪̜̦̮̝͙̔̓ͯ̾͘͝i̷̧̫̅ͨ͒́̚ͅn̷̲̪̞͔͉ͫͧ̒̒͛̅͝ͅͅg̲̞̠̥̺̲̜͂̐ͅl͙̪̥̪̃͋̓̓̄e̡̗̦͔ͧ͊́͡ ̙̖̼̲̾̈͐́p͇̝͚̂ͫ̄ͩ͒̀̀e͎̪̗̬̥̐ͭ͠r̟̲̫͖͓̗ͮ̒̍ͯͅͅs̴̸͓̙̪̠̄̊̂̈́̿̿̀̊͡o̧̗͙̟̾ͬ̆̕͞n̽͏̱̠̥͕̪͙͉?̛̈ͦ͒͋҉̨̣̱ D̶̸̛̜̩̜͎̠̠̯̗̀͞i̷̯͓͖͚̖̯͢͡͝͞d͈͉͕̯͎̦̣͙̤͇̘͜G̵̜̪̼̲͕̖͙̫̙͛̌ͦ͗͊̈̊ͪ̈́̀̅̀̀͜ͅo̸̴̴̞̲̟͉̭̤͕͙̪ͣ̑̔̒̂ͥ̀͗̆̈́̈̿͆͛ͬ̈̃ͥ̄d̴̖͔̼̤̮̺̣̲͒̂̓ͫ͌̔̄͊̄̀ ̨̖̪̹̰͖͓̰̦̠͙͇͙̆ͥ͌̿̌̍͒̂̓͆͊̌̓͢͡n̵̸͍͓͚͈̳̫ͤ͋͆͋ͥ͋͊̔ͥ͐̽ͪͥ̉̇͗ơ̴̳̜̟̬̲͔̱̝̙̰̘̭̊͐ͮͫṭ̵̡̫̥͓̼̅ͦ͋̆ͫ̋͋ͧ̌ͪ͐͗̒ͭ̍̓̊́͘͠ͅ ̛͉͈͓̼̞͈̘̘̥͖̘̝̯̠̗̙̪ͣ̒ͦͨ͊͌͛̀͢͠ͅc̡͙͍̠̹͕̮̣͐̊͐ͨͫ̐̿̏̽̄̌̈̉̓ͭ̐̑͑̓̀͠a͋̊̐̚��̉͒ͤ̄̒ͯͭͧ̿̚͏̷̭̥̘͈̺̝̳̥͕̲̪̩̪̫̯̫r̴̛̮͇̭͕̝̬̙͎̰̯̙̣̙̹͎̪̿̇̋ͦ̊ͬ̒͊͑͘ë̸̴͉̞̠͖̫̣̟̟͕̭̣͕̦̹̗̼̽͊̂̇̈̆ͮ̐ͫ̌̚͘͝͞ͅ?̷̛̰̳̯̥̮̳͇̥̿̃̋͊̏̍̃ͮ̏̇̏ͬ̊)

            On that day when Walpurgisnacht arrived, Kyubey did not have Madoka to coax into becoming a magical girl. Mami had died after the quick transformation of Sayaka. Poor Sayaka did not take the death very well and she had went into a blind rage, blaming Homura so much for arriving so late. But Sayaka blamed the killer the most out of Homura. Mami had tried to naturally convince Sayaka that it was not anyone’s fault but the killer himself. Homura had remembered how Sayaka was lashing out at anyone and everyone including herself. Sayaka was so hurt, losing her best friend. It was the first time Homura really and truly saw Sayaka turn into a witch so quickly. After the passing of so many faces, Homura stopped going to school and just buried herself into the empty household of hers. She didn’t go out to hunt witches. When she did leave the house to cleanse her Soul Gem, the gem was almost at its limit when she actually decided to leave. When she did leave to fight, it was a violent fight where Homura had fought and fought even after the witch dropped the grief seed. But when the day of Walpurgisnacht came to destroy, Homura was all alone in her fight. She also had no one to fight for anymore. No allies and no time to sleep or eat. No time for laughter or what if fantasies. She punished herself, allowing flesh to bleed from time to time in her messy bedroom. But she fought the witch that haunted her dreams and failed again and broke down. When she reset the timeline, she grieved and isolated herself even when she transferred into the class. People wrote her off as gloomy or depressed or maybe it was her heart giving her trouble. When she did meet Envy again, she did not tell him of Madoka. All she did was avoid talking about herself and tell him that she was sorry. Homura had done the same to Madoka too, telling her that she was sorry on the first day of class. After just barely meeting the two of them again, Homura would hide herself in her bedroom. Healing would take time. But each time that Envy would come with just even the smallest of blood stains, tears would start to form in her eyes. She would leave the room and request that he cleaned off the blood, telling him that it didn’t suit him. Blood should not suit anyone. She didn’t tell him why she would start crying. She was just glad that he respected her wishes and didn’t press onto the matter. Homura didn’t hate Madoka nor Envy nor any of the,.

             A̛͂ͮ̋̊̿̍ͦ̈ͯͭͩ͆͘҉͚̫͕͈̙̘̲̦͜l̶̲̲̬̤͇̹̪ͯ̃̆ͮ͌̍̅͋̍͆̅̂͐͂͒̄ͨͪͮ̀ͅͅļ̢̛̝͚͕̇ͩ͗͌ͦͤ̐͌͌͛ ̴̛̲̞͈̠̭̲̥̯͖̰̰ͨͤ͒ͩ̀́̐ͣͯ̂̈͘͝ͅḦ̍͌ͥ̓͑̆͊ͫͮ͛ͤͬ҉̵̶̨͎̬̙̯̯̥͉̳͙̲͕̹͚̱̻̺͕͈o͑͂ͥͣ̓́̑ͤ͐̀͏̵̢̡̮͎̼͇̩͈̳̹͈̳̟m̷̡̧͙̪͍̰̥͙ͭ͛͋̓̈̎͆͊͊ͅu͙̤̰͍̱̮̘̩͎̪̤̹̫̭̯͂ͨͨͥ̒̽ͩͭ̒̌͒ͥ̅͒̑͟͝ŗͧͣ͐̌͒̃͂͌ͥ̌͊ͯ̒ͩͣ̽͆҉̧̹͙͎͖͙̬͠a̴̸̾̓̄͗ͪ̌͋̊̽ͧ̀̑̂̏̔͐ͤ͗҉͎̥͔̹͡͞ ͬ͌̎ͣ͛ͨ̉̓̈̓ͦ̂ͣͦ̂̑̚͟͏͡͏͍̮̞̦̯̼͍̮̱̞͔ͅd͆͂̀̉̆ͥ͏̵̴͕̙̪͓͚͔͍̟̤̯̭͔͖̯̦ͅi̷̷̡̥̼͓̜̬̭̤̲̫͓ͦ͑̉͛̂̑̓͜d̊ͭͨ̿̀́ͭ̔̓̈́̀ͦ̚͟҉̶̼̜̬̬̖̼̬̮̹͙̟̭̠͜͠ͅ ̙̠̹̫͎͇̰̦͙̞̟ͬ̏̉̒͌̂͊̓͜͞ͅw̃ͪͤ͛ͦ͠҉̷̢̘̗͈̦̠͓̺̙̤͖a͑̇̇̾͒̋ͧ́҉҉̴̡̹̜̯̺̘̼̯̥̞̠̮͜ş̶́ͦ͆̌͟͏̘̫̝̤̜̟̲͖͓͕̳̻̫͔͎̺͘ͅ ̸̹͕̫̭̟̱ͨ̀ͬ̇ͥͬ͘͜͞ḃ̃ͩͥ҉̡̬̞̭͙̖͇͎̻͍͙̭͇̺̞̮͇l̞̠͚̖̞̩͈͍͈̪̱̘̬̂̈́̇́̅ͭ͟͝aͬ̅̋ͨͬ̾͊ͪ̆͢͏̧̥̘̟̭̦͔̮̫́͡m̨̠̩̣͆̅̋̇ͬ̑͐̀͜ȩ̧̬͇̗̹̺̣̙̝̥̬̫̫̘̃ͦ̓ͥ̉̇̄́͒̏͌̿̊ͯ͜ ̏͑̎̿ͩ҉̸̨̛̺̬̩̳̰̺̤ȟ̶̶̤͚͍͓̝̳̮̦̺͚̬́̿͆̇ͤͧ͆̈͜ͅe̸̛̘̻͍̠̳̔ͤ͊̐̀͊̆̈́ͤ̃͒̿̋̒̑͐̚̚͡r̵̵̵͚͈̙̞̘̩͇̜̱͚̱̱̳̜͍̝̽͒͆͊ͦ̀̋̓ͨ̋̀̚s̻̟͉͍̣̘̪̯̠̹̬͇̖̯̆̒͑ͬ̿̈̿ͬ̒̑ͭ̀e̴͉̼͚͈̩̥̳̖̙͉̙͗ͨ͒̑̓̚ͅͅļ̓͒̒̇̓ͦͪ̈́ͨ͛̋̌ͯ͂ͭͦ͢҉҉̞̘̖̩͓f̸̧̢̙̭̙̳͓̟̣̹͕̅͋ͪ̉̔͑͑̿ͯ̒͂͋͆̀͠.͉̖̟̤̠̞̣͍͈͍̮̞͙͋̂̽̽̽͂͌͂͌ͧ̐̉̆ͫ̎̌͐̊̉̕͜ It is always her fault. In her always cold hands, she kept her feelings of self-hatred bottled up. On nights when she did sleep, she was haunted by the many forms of a dead Madoka. Murdered by her own hands or by a witch or by Envy, she would always wake up in a cold sweat and pick up her cellphone. She would stare at her always empty contact list, expecting names to be in there. On those nights where she shut down, she would call her mother or father. She would leave a voicemail, asking for them to call her back. They normally did call her back yet it was always late. Homura took to her journal, preferring to flip back to happier times in her entries in order to calm herself down. There are days where she would hide away from the world, breaking down in emotional fits until she was ready to leave the see the world. If Madoka would notice these changes, Homura would tell her that she wasn’t feeling good and lying to her best friend each and every time. Over time, her lies got better and better. If Envy had questioned her, she would either not answer and shake her head or she would just tell him of her bad dreams. But she never told him the dreams were real and she never gave him any details on what the dreams were about, too paranoid that she would hurt someone’s feelings or ruin everything again. Sometimes, the dreams morphed into reality and flashbacks. Her performance in battle had weakened and yet she unfortunately always survived somehow much to her own dismay. Over time, she did heal and start to recover. To this day, she has suppressed so many bad memories and refuses to believe that they really happened. If anyone questioned it, she would just blank out or break down or pretend that it was just a dream. On nights where her guilt consumes her, Homura would stare at the gun in her hands and wonder h̟̝̉͌o͕ͣ̈͂͂͑̚ͅw̘͇ ͙̯̖̣̜̞ͯ̈́͛ͨ̊͟ͅl̝͓̣̈́̄͐ͫ͆͐o͔̬̲̹̅͐͐n̵̼͚̤̞͖ͭ͐̎g̶̠̞͖̗̈ͬͫ́̽͂ͅ ̡̦̪̈́͗̈́̈ͥi͚̯ͨ͂̈́t̷̤͎͕ͮͯ̒ͪ̒ͤ ̷͕̪͉͎̮̋͊̈́ͮ̈́w̭̳̖̦̭̙̉͌o̸̲̪̺͇͎̘͂̈́͊ͩ̚u̮̜ͥ̀̔ͣͥ̉ͦ͡l̳̭͓̱͚̮͔̊̈́̃ͦ̅ͬ̃d̨̘͈ ̻̝͍̱̤̙͘t͍̀ͭ̑͠a̢̜̤̓͆kͩe̤̯̟̩̬̜̎̊ ̢̘̘͉̭̤͍̎f̘̮̹ͧ̕o̟̍̄̐ͬͣr̻͕͇̋̑̕ ͉̪͍̫̘̹̥̽̉s̨̹̩̦̼͚̩ͪ̿̓͂o̺̜̗̫̳̳͉̔̎̓ͮ͊̎ͥm͕̺͇͕̼e͒o̶̥̗͔̭͗ͦͧ̆̾̀ͅͅń̳̥͖̫̟̓̿ͫ͋ͯe̙̘̠̮̗̻̭̒̆̌̇̌̓ to find h̶̞͍̬͓̜̲͉̯̺͕̺͈͕ͥͦ͐̚e̶̖̲̠̬̩̣͙̠͇͍͍͔̭̮̪̰͕̖̥̅̍̇̍̈́̽ͫ̒͋͝r̸̛̗̝͈̣̩̻̰̺̬̲̼̿͗͌ͪͥ͌ͤͥ̇̌͛̑͌́ ̡̰̝͇̮̰͓̻̖͈̲̭ͬ̈́͊͗̒ͭ́o̡͗̏͂̊̄̇ͮ͌͊̄̔҉͕̯͈̝̠̬͙̗͈̼̦̣͇̭͇͍̘̣͜w̷̢͂̒ͭ̃̃͞҉̞͍̯̩̮͚̟͔̰̪̝͕̰̞͓̗̱̝͖͢ṉ̶̗̫͕̺͚͉̓ͫ̍̋͗ͩ͂̂͊ͭ͌ͫͣͪ͐̇́͜͡͞ body. But somehow, Homura would lower the gun and remind herself that she has so many unfulfilled promises in her head. She had to kill off  Walpurgisnacht before she even thought about killing herself.

              Sometimes when her former friends look upon her as strangers, Homura can hear their angry and hurt voices. She can see blood on them. She would see their empty eyes. They hate her and that’s okay for she hates herself too. But Homura had a duty to keep marching forward instead of giving up and ending herself. No time for looking back, Homura would keep on going and try her best to cope with all the bad memories. All the bad things will not matter when she keeps everyone alive and defeats Walpurgisnacht. Even if she can keep everyone alive, their deaths still haunt her. She can recognize their screams and who which scream belongs to. She has seen everyone at their worst and she has heard their finals last words. She has seen many sides of a lot of people.

             Homura decides to dream of more simple and unrealistic days, building up a picturesque world where everyone is happy. Later down the line, this make believe world will be her witch’s barrier and her dream. The girl who could not sleep will become sleeping beauty with her tainted soul gem and she will dream of a happy world - where you fight off nightmares and everyone is alive. Everyone is not alone. One day, she will shatter her own dream and wake up to make that dream a reality. Even if she plays the part of the self-proclaimed devil, she will make everything better one day. For now, she has yet to prick her finger on the spindle and she has yet to truly fall into a death-like sleep. For now, she is awake and facing each day with desperate determination. Soon, ş̡͔̯̰̘̞̠̞̹̜̈́ͯ̐ͧͥͮͣ̏ͥ̅̑̑̅̈̽ͪ́̚͜ḽ̴͙͕̲̻̟̭͍̗̜̫͖̻̲̲̝̰̌͊̋ͬ̐̕e̢̱͚̥̱̝̩̰͓͕̦̬̭͕̖̯͊̓͆̏̕̕͝e̞̳͎͔̖͈̺̩̯̯̜͙͔͍̲̖ͮ̐̑͌̃̆ͦͩ͋̕p̵̡̱̲͉̥̙͇ͩ̿̾͆̋̃ͥͤ̆̇̾͞ĩ̸̛̜̺̹̝̳̺͚͖͈̼̀͛ͥ͊̒ͤ͋̅͑̾̚n̷̏͂̎͒̓͊͒̃̀ͨ̊̄̔͛̉̆͛ͨͪ͏̫͙̲̟̘̲̳̦̯͖̝͞͞ͅͅg̶̢̐̈ͣ͂͐͌̃́̓͡҉̩̩̠̻̣͝ ̛͛͒̇ͪͣ͜͏҉̴̻̣͉̜͎̥̘̘̥̞̦b̡̖͉̬̩͔̖̫̠͍̰͓̼̩͎͔̠̱̲̺̔ͪ̒̑̇̾ͩ͒ͦͤ̾͋̾̀eͭ̊̓̈́̅̊ͧ̃̏ͩ̃̍̕҉̖̹͍͈̤̲̯̬̪̠͘ͅͅa̶̻̼̝̠̺̭̺̖̖̦̳͓̟̦̝͈̠ͥͩ͗͑ͤ̽͐̈́ͦ̅̿ͩ̒ͭ́͞ͅû̗̫̹̮͕̹͈͎̼̯̯̜̲̣͎́͌͊̀͋̎̉̓̕͟t̷̢͗ͫͧ̅̊̿ͩ̈́̾͊͆ͬ̔̈̈͒҉͓̰̜̟͝͡y͖͈̩̖̏̈ͬ̆ͧͫ͊ͤ̀͐̾̊ͯ́̃ͮ̇̔͘ ̷̂̓ͣ͊̀͟͠҉̗̺̯̤͔̯will prick her finger and be allowed to dream of sweet nothings.

#❛ ✧ ┊ the fairy tale gets a little darker after midnight. answered. #❛ ✧ ┊ beware of those bloody thorns. ic. #delightful-envy

[yurionice-secretsanta]

To @pockybugi​ From @nihonlove​

You said you liked meet-cutes so I wrote this based on an incident in my own life once upon a time. Though in some ways I suppose this would be more of a meet-ugly ^^;. I hope you like it regardless! 

Elevator Ride of Surprises

Pairings: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov Ratings: T for swearing Tags: Awkwardness, Meet-Cute, Alternate Universe - College/University, Elevators, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri

Yuuri’s been cleaning his apartment for the past few hours. He’s been putting books back on shelves, sorting through papers, vacuuming and washing the floors and doing the dishes. He doesn’t usually let his apartment get so messy, but for the past week and a half he’s been bombed with essays, exams, and assignments, and he simply hasn’t had the time to keep his living space, or himself, to the prime standards he usually has for them. Not to mention he still hasn’t gotten used to living alone and taking care of the apartment by himself since Phichit moved out. So dust has been gathering, books and papers have been piling, and dishes have been stinking.

But now, he’s over and done with everything related to school, for a while at least. He’s been catching up on much-needed sleep for a few days, but today he was finally set on making his home look presentable once more. Therefore, several hours earlier he’d put on some ratty sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and had gotten to work. And now his small apartment looks miles better, and there is a smell of citrusy disinfectant in the air. His countertops are clear and gleaming, his books and binders are in his bookshelves rather than all over the floor, and his plates, mugs and glasses have been washed and put back into their rightful places in the cupboards. All that remains to be done is for Yuuri to take out the trash.  

So he heads out of his apartment and towards the elevators. Perhaps because he’s so tired from his long day of cleaning, he doesn’t even stop to consider his appearance, or the fact that he might run into someone. After all, he usually gets to ride up and down the building by himself; it’s much rarer for him to have company in the elevator. Perhaps it’s because Yuuri’s schedule tends to be rather different from the other students living in his building due to his early morning classes and his part-time job. In any case, he doesn’t bother with changing clothes or even fixing his hair as he goes on his way. After all, who would dress up for the garbage bin? He would much rather get everything done first anyway, and afterwards take a long, soothing shower to wash off all the sweat and grime that has gathered on his skin from his few hours’ work.  

He’s already dreaming of that shower when he steps in the elevator, feeling the greasiness on his skin and dark hair, his multiple garbage bags in hand, when someone calls out, “Hold the door!”

Yuuri jumps a little, almost considers just pretending not having heard that, and just to let the door slide closed on the other person. He dislikes riding the elevator with other people even in the best of times, because having to share space with someone you may never see again always creates silences that are soul-crushingly awkward and stifling. But right now is probably the worst of all occasions to run into someone. He knows he’s a mess even without the smelling plastic bags he’s currently holding, and he really doesn’t want anyone to see him in this state.

Alas, the man who called out for him to hold the elevator manages to catch it after all. And it is upon seeing him that Yuuri really, really regrets not having showered for a few days, and not bothering to change before stepping out of his apartment.  

Oh no, he’s gorgeous, is pretty much Yuuri’s first thought. The man now sharing the elevator with him has very light features, from his pale skin to his silvery-blond and soft-looking hair to his beautiful arctic blue eyes. He’s impeccably groomed and well-dressed, wearing a long burgundy overcoat, cream-colored zipped hoodie and dark pants, contrasting even further with what a mess Yuuri currently is. None of these pieces of clothing are particularly special, perhaps, but put together and on this man’s body they seem to create an incredible picture of an angelically beautiful and fashionable person, who looks like he just stepped right out of a magazine cover. Yuuri almost feels unworthy of being allowed to look at him the way he is now. Of course, of course the rare occasion he happens to run into someone in the elevator has to take place when he’s a fucking mess, carrying bags of garbage, and the person he runs into just has to be this attractive too. Fuck.

“Oh!” he hears the beautiful man gasp for some reason. Perhaps it’s such a shock for someone like him to even have to share space with someone like Yuuri. The thought sinks into the pit of his stomach like a stone, and Yuuri averts his eyes the best he can from looking anywhere near the beautiful man, even as he can feel the stranger’s eyes roam over his body. He wishes the man would just do the polite thing and stare at the wall instead, like Yuuri’s trying to do, instead of taking in and marking upon how awful Yuuri looks right now.  

And yet, either the beautiful man doesn’t notice the terrible state of Yuuri’s appearance, or is simply trying to do the polite thing and ignore it entirely, because all Yuuri gets from him is a kind-sounding, “Hello.”

Yuuri jumps again, and almost has the urge to look around himself to make sure the greeting was actually addressed to him and not someone else. But he doesn’t want to look even more foolish than he already does, knowing that the two of them are very much alone. So, he replies quietly with a “…Hi.”  

Immediately as the word escapes his mouth, he wishes the ground would just swallow him up and save him from this situation. Can’t he just keep his mouth shut and not make this situation even worse than it has to be? But apparently he can’t, because he chances a look at the beautiful man’s breath-taking and sparkling eyes, the beginnings of a smile at the corners of his full pink lips, the gentle flush on his sculpted cheeks, and suddenly, he finds himself opening his mouth and asking, “Where are you on your way to?”

The man blinks, and now Yuuri really feels like death would be the lesser of two evils right now. Why must he now of all times try and make small talk, instead of letting the elevator ride pass him by in silence like he always does whenever he is forced to share the space with someone he doesn’t know? But no. Of course now, in the elevator with the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen, he must blurt out the most awkward of opening lines ever.

And yet, the beautiful man doesn’t seem to mind, as the earlier beginnings of his smile grow into a more real one that makes Yuuri’s heart beat faster in his chest. “I’m planning on going to see a film. I figured now that the exams are over, I ought to treat myself.”

“Oh. That sounds nice,” Yuuri says, and attempts a bit of a smile back. He’s actually been thinking about doing something along the same lines as well, once he’s finished with his big clean-up. Of course there was the party right after the exams ended, but Yuuri honestly doesn’t remember much about that. He’d just recently gotten a call that his dog was sick and might not make it, and he’d had no way of getting home on such short notice to even go see him, so he’d just wanted to forget about everything for a while. He’d ended up drinking a bit too much and evidently blacking out as a result. Thank goodness Vicchan turned out to be okay after all at least. “What movie are you going to see?”

“A Man from U.N.C.L.E. I have been meaning to see it for a while,” the beautiful stranger answers with a kind, indulgent smile.

Yuuri smiles a bit wider at that as well, straightening his posture in eagerness. “I’ve been planning on seeing that one too. It sounds really interesting.” Not to mention the lead actors are all gorgeous, especially the one playing the Russian spy.  

The gorgeous stranger’s smile grows even wider, and Yuuri can’t help but notice that like this, it’s taking a heart-like shape that is utterly adorable, especially added with his wide, shining eyes.  

“I know, right? That glamour, that history, that excitement! Ah, I can’t wait!” he makes a few dramatic gestures with his arms that force Yuuri to hide a chuckle behind his hand. Then he turns back to talk to Yuuri. “I am so very sorry, but I think I never got your name. May I ask for it now?”

Yuuri blinks. He doesn’t think that’s something to be very sorry about, seeing as they’ve only been sharing this elevator for a few moments, and he personally never asks for anyone’s name while riding it. But then again, none of what has happened in the past few minutes has exactly been anything akin to normal, so Yuuri comes out with, “I’m Yuuri.”

“Yuuri,” the beautiful man says, and Yuuri doesn’t think he’s ever liked hearing his name from someone else’s mouth so much before. The way he says it adds a certain lilt to it, that makes it sound like Yuuri’s hearing it for the very first time. And then, to Yuuri’s incredible surprise, the beautiful man proceeds to take one of Yuuri’s hands – the one not holding onto the garbage – and brings it up to his lips for a light kiss, like they’re in a period piece drama or something. “It’s very nice to meet to, Yuuri. My name is Viktor.”

Yuuri’s pretty sure he’s actually dead now, if not from the way his heart seems to have stopped, then from the fact there surely isn’t any blood left anywhere else in his body except on his face. His ears are ringing and his hand is tingling from where Viktor’s lips touched it. His head is swimming. Who in the world does something like this to a complete stranger, not to mention a stranger that is currently holding garbage and looking like he just crawled out of bed?

“Yuuri, this may be bold of me to ask so suddenly, but…” Viktor says softly, trailing off momentarily, a soft flush taking over his cheeks. “There is another showing of the film later today, and I haven’t bought my ticket for the one I was on my way to see yet. If you would be amenable to it, I’d very much like it if you’d join me for that later showing.”

Yuuri blinks. Then blinks again. He discreetly brings the wrist of his free hand over to the hand holding the garbage and pinches the skin there to make sure this is actually real. And yet the pinch hurts and he’s still where he was before the pain. He’s not dreaming. This beautiful man he just met wants to, if Yuuri’s not reading this entirely wrong, take him out on a date.

And Yuuri just can’t fathom why. There is nothing impressive about him, even on his best days, but especially not today. Why in the world would someone like Viktor want to go on a date with someone like Yuuri? It can’t be real. It must be some sort of joke, a cruel prank to be played on Yuuri if he dares to believe he could actually have something like this.

“I’m not sure if I should,” he says quietly, not wanting to bring further humiliation upon himself.

“Oh,” Viktor says, and his shoulders sag. In fact, his whole body seems to sort of grow smaller, his head down and his eyes sad. And Yuuri just can’t understand how he could’ve made him look like that. “Of course.”

And because Viktor looks so miserable, Yuuri can’t help but rush to explain.

“It’s not that I don’t want to!” he says, and Viktor glances up at him, momentarily looking slightly less miserable, with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I just…do you normally just ask people you meet in elevators to the movies with you?”

“No,” Viktor admits. “Just you.”

“Then why? Why me?”

“Because I want to be able to see you again,” Viktor says, and his voice sounds strangely cracking, like he’s just about to cry. “Because I’m scared I’ll never find you again if I don’t immediately make sure we’ll meet again.”

Yuuri can’t help the blush that breaks out on his face again. No one’s ever said anything even remotely like that to him before. And Viktor says it all with such conviction, such emotion, that Yuuri can’t help but hope and believe a little, too.

“Okay then,” he says, because he never really wanted to say no in the first place. “Yes. We can go see the movie. What time does the later showing start?”

Viktor’s face spreads into a beaming heart-shaped smile, and he starts looking through his phone to make sure of the time, whistling happily all the while. And Yuuri, disbelieving as he is, can’t help but smile again, too. If this truly is for real, which he will find out in a few hours, hopefully after he’s without his garbage and has showered and changed clothes, he wants to believe this could actually lead to something good. After all, if Viktor can look at him at his rattiest and dirtiest and still want to go on a date with him, there must be some hope for Yuuri in the world after all.  

The elevator finally concludes its journey downstairs just then, and Viktor and Yuuri quickly agree on a time to meet in the lobby for their date later on. Viktor waves cheerfully as the elevator doors close on him and he heads back up. Yuuri waves in return before heading for the garbage disposal with a smile. He can’t know what will happen, but right now, he feels like he can hope and be happy with just hoping, even if it only lasts a few hours. After all, it’s been one surprise after another today. Who is to say it can’t all work out fine?

That’s what he chooses to believe for now anyway.

…

A few years later, at a rather lavish and beautiful wedding reception, a best man starts his speech with, “You know, it’s not every couple that meets when one of them is drunk out of their mind and pole dancing at a club half-naked…”

“WHAT?!” comes a screeching sound from one of the grooms, a beautiful Asian man whose face is quickly growing dangerously pale in shade.

“Yuuri, you don’t remember?” The other groom, a beautiful man with very fair blond hair asks.

The best man never gets to finish his speech. The two grooms have far too much to talk out in the middle of their wedding reception.

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