#yes i know this pose has probably been done a million times before

[wimsiecal]

I'm here to keep you grounded 💙✨️

#finally i can draw again hello #pinky and the brain #my art #art #doodle #drawing #digital art #fanart #brinky #animaniacs #i hate the way Brain's arm looks but it's whatever lol #yes i know this pose has probably been done a million times before

[high-functioning-lokipath]

SH - Sherlock x Depressed!Reader - With a Little Help from My Friends - Words: 2,793

IMPORTANT A/N - PLEASE READ: As stated in the title, this story contains discussions of depression. There is mention of suicidal thought and self-harm. I personally don't think it's too intense in it's descriptions HOWEVER!!! If this will trigger you, for your own health and safety please do not read. My messages are always open if you'd like to talk. I wrote this partially based on my own feelings so I can understand to at least a degree. You're amazing and I love you all. As far as this story goes, just remember: it has a happy, very fluffy ending but it doesn't start that way. I hope you enjoy it, feel free to leave a comment!

Brief Backstory: Reader is friends with John and Sherlock. She is a nurse who works with John. The three met shortly after Sherlock came back. Sherlock and Reader have crushes on each other but won't admit to it. I think the story explains everything else.

"Y/N, I'm going to be honest," John said, putting his hand on your shoulder comfortingly. "I may have PTSD but I cannot fully put myself in your shoes. My depression is different than yours." You had called your best friend, John Watson, in a mild panic. You had been feeling depressed for some time, as he knew, but that day had been especially bad. There was no particular reason but your depression had gotten so intense that you knew you needed help to get past this particular wave. John invited you over to 221B, assuring you that his flatmate would be out for the next couple of hours. "As a doctor, I am going to prescribe you some medication. Lowest dose possible and only because I want to help you get some immediate relief but I know you do not want them to become permanent. Let's work on finding another solution for you, ok?"

"I don't know, John," you replied. You'd asked John to be your Doctor since you didn't go to one regularly and he didn't mind your irregular checkups. "I've tried just about everything. The only outlet that seems to help is writing and even then," you trailed off, trying not to cry again. "This feeling just won't go away and I don't even know why it's there in the first place. I just want it to stop."

"I think you should talk to Sherlock."

"What?" You squeaked. "Why in the world would I talk to Sherlock?"

"I can't tell you why, Y/N. As both your Doctor and Sherlock's, I have to respect certain amounts of patient confidentiality. However, as your friend, I think you should talk to him."

"I don't know."

"Trust me," He replied. Smirking slightly, he added, "Doctor's orders."

"Ok, John," you chuckled. He smiled and hugged you. "Thanks."

"Now how about we go and fill this prescription and then maybe get some ice cream?"

"Well, honestly," you sighed. "The ice cream sounds great but I didn't sleep well last night. I was actually wondering if I could just take a nap here for a bit. I sleep better here sometimes." You blushed but John nodded understandingly.

"Of course," He replied. "I'll run down to the drugstore and fill this for you. Meanwhile you get some rest. I'll let Sherlock know you're here just in case he ends up getting back before I do. Will you be ok by yourself?"

"Yeah," You smiled. "This is a safe space for me. I'll go grab a blanket. Thanks again."

"Don't mention it. Just remember, talk to him."

"I'll try."

About 15 minutes later, Sherlock arrived back at the flat. He'd gotten John's texts.

John: If you get home in the next 45 minutes, be quiet. Y/N is over and she's taking a nap. I have to run out for something.

Sherlock: Is everything ok? - SH

John: She said she had a bad night.

Sherlock: She must have had a reason to come over in the first place though. - SH

John: She's going to need to tell you that herself. Don't ask. Do you understand me? Let her tell you. Be nice, ok?

Sherlock: When am I not nice to Y/N? - SH

John: Ok, that is true. You like her too much to be rude to her. If you could just hold back your deductions for one second I will say this: you two have more in common than you think.

He hurried home, not to wake you up of course, but because he wanted to see you. If there was something seriously wrong, he wanted to try and brace himself for it first. He couldn't help the smile playing at the corner of his lips when he thought of you. You two were good friends, that much was obvious to everyone. But Sherlock could see the potential for something more. He liked you a lot. You were just as smart, sassy, and sarcastic as he was. But you also could be extremely kind and caring to others and especially to him. He still didn't quite understand why you cared for him so but he was grateful. Before he could dwell on that too much longer, he arrived at 221B.

He quietly slipped inside and smiled at what he saw. You were curled up on the couch, sleeping like a baby. Apparently, though, you'd kicked off the blanket you had grabbed. Instead of picking up the blanket, he decided to take off his long coat and carefully lay that over you. You quickly cuddled into the warm fabric, unconsciously taking a deep breath, inhaling his unique signature left behind on the coat. Satisfied with what he'd done, he took off his suit jacket and went to the kitchen to prepare some tea for when you woke up. He knew you had a favorite tea and, unless John moved it or drank it all, there still would be some in the cupboard.

You woke to the smell of your favorite tea and a hushed exclamation from the kitchen. Opening your eyes slowly you saw Sherlock in at the counter trying to set up a tray with the teapot and cups. Recognizing your surroundings a bit more, you realized what was on top of you. Sherlock was just about to bring out the tray but you decided to pretend you were still asleep. The chances of fooling the Detective were low, but you wanted to try.

"There," He whispered to himself, setting the tray on the coffee table. You could hear him settling down on his chair, likely getting into his 'palace pose' as you called it. For a moment you were happy. You had actually gotten some quality sleep, you were currently cuddled up in Sherlock's famous coat and Sherlock had even made you tea. But that feeling quickly faded. Tears threatened to spill out of your still closed eyes as self-deprecating thoughts filled your mind.

'John probably told him to make me tea. He probably covered me with his coat so I wasn't as much of a distraction. He doesn't want me here. He never does. Why does he even tolerate my presence? He probably wishes we'd never met,' You thought. Your mind was going a million miles an hour and gaining. Without your notice, the tears began rolling down your cheeks and quiet sobs escaped your lips.

"Y/N?" Sherlock whispered. You're eyes shot open. You hadn't heard him get up. Now he was kneeling right next to you, one hand hovering over your arm. "Are you ok?"

"Oh, Sherlock!" You cried. "I-I wish I knew."

"C'mere," he said, motioning for you to sit up. Once you did so, he pulled you into a tight hug.

"What's this for?"

"You always give me and John a hug when you see us. You haven't done so for the past 5 days. I-" he paused briefly before lowering his voice and continuing. "I missed it."

"Oh." You weren't quite sure how to reply to that. You leaned into his embrace, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

"Y/N? Is there something I can do to help?"

"How much did John tell you?" You asked. You wouldn't have been mad exactly if John had told Sherlock to talk to you, but you wanted to think Sherlock was reaching out on his own.

"He told me you had a bad night."

"That's all?" You asked, surprised. You pulled away slightly and stared into his eyes. Sherlock nodded, frowning slightly as he tried to deduce you.

"Why are you afraid to talk to me?" You turned away, embarrassed and unsure what to say. "Be honest."

"I don't want you to make fun of me. I have-" You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves and preparing to just jump right in. "I have been extremely depressed lately and I didn't want to hear another speech about how all I need to do is exercise and eat right and stop thinking about sad things. Well you know what? I can't stop it! I can't help it if I feel like a useless pile of trash that should be thrown in the bin and burned." By the time you finished your little tirade, you'd gotten up and started pacing the floor. Then you turned and faced Sherlock. His expression was neutral but there was an obvious sadness in his eyes, one you didn't expect to see. It wasn't of pity. If you had seen that you also would have given up on the conversation. No, it was almost an understanding, an empathy. His eyes were actually glistening with tears.

"Have you ever felt like," he paused, voice unsteady. "Like giving up?" He whispered, unable to hold eye contact. You nodded silently. He got up slowly and walked towards you. At first, you thought he would hug you again but then he started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Uh, Sherlock?"

"Just wait a moment. I want to show you something." He carefully shrugged off the purple shirt that you, admittedly, loved so much and tossed it on the chair. "Only one person knows about this. You will be the second. You remember I told you about Moriarty's network?"

"Yes, the day we met. I asked you about your work, a simple question. And I got an answer that lasted 3 hours." Sherlock chuckled dryly.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Oh, no. Please don't apologise. I-" You sighed, rubbing your forehead. "I tend to make jokes when I'm nervous."

"I know." He smiled at you with, yet again, a completely unreadable expression. "You remember though." You nodded, opting to stay silent as he explained. "Well, those 2 years dismantling his network weren't easy. Not physically and certainly not emotionally. As a result of the different missions, I received many wounds on my body in various locations. I was," He paused, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. "I was depressed, guilt-stricken and suicidal. I figured I had hurt my friends enough. If they thought I was dead maybe I should just go on with it."

"What changed your mind?"

"I didn't want to do it on a mission. I wanted to see home again one more time. So to temporarily relieve the pain I," He sighed. Well, I wouldn't let my wounds heal. I'd pick at them. Mycroft finally convinced me to come back officially because he needed my help. I never told him about this. I think he knows but we don't discuss it." He looked down, obviously embarrassed and feeling more emotionally naked than physically. "You can look," he said. It was as if he'd read your mind. You were trying to be respectful and not stare but you realized that's what he wanted to show you. You had, on occasion, seen him shirtless before but you had never realized how bad some of the scars were.

"Sherlock, I-I don't know what to say. I-" You were completely shocked. Not offended. But actually comforted that he understood you. "Thank you," You finally said.

"Actually I wanted to thank you. I didn't just show you this to prove that I understand your feelings." You looked at him confused. "The day we met. You were leaving work, correct?" You nodded.

"It had been my first day there. John had been happy with my work and requested that I stay assigned to his office permanently. John had already finished up and headed home but there was some paperwork I had to finish so I was leaving about an hour late. Come to think of it, John said he had plans with you that evening. Why were you there?"

"That's what I wanted to tell you. I met you less than a month after I came back. I had still been quite depressed so I was still picking at my injuries. That day had been a bad day for me. So I cancelled my plans with John and I decided to go back to where I started this whole mess and finish it."

"Wait, are you telling me that-"

"You saved my life." Sherlock took one of your hands in his own and held it tightly. "I had memorized the work schedules of most everyone there and knew how to slip in unnoticed."

"But you didn't factor in me."

"Correct. When I ran into you, quite literally in fact, as I was entering the building, I was surprised. Not just by your presence but by what I deduced about you. You intrigued me. I had to find out more about you so I invited you to have a cup of coffee with me."

"Which turned into dinner." Sherlock nodded. "And since you were so intrigued by me, you forgot all about that."

"In a manner of speaking. You weren't a cure-all, mind you. You helped, though, by giving me a new mystery to investigate: you. That night, when I got home, I told John everything. He helped me too and when I mentioned you he couldn't stop singing your praises. He is very proud of you and your work you know."

"Yeah, I guess so," You replied, a little embarrassed. "Thank you, Sherlock. I'm sorry that you went through all that, but, I'm glad I have someone who understands. And I'm glad you're here to help me."

"Me too, Y/N. Me too," He replied.

"Can I, um, can I have another hug?" You asked, blushing and smiling. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"If you must," He sighed, holding his arms out. Any other day, you would have thought he genuinely didn't want personal contact. But today you realized he was simply teasing. You wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned your head on his chest. You felt him relax as he leaned forward a little to cocoon you in his arms. "I care about you, Y/N. I don't care about many people but you mean so much to me. I-" You looked up at him and pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him.

"You don't have to say it, Sherlock. I know." He smiled and looked somewhat relieved. You knew he wasn't good with feelings and that was fine with you. "I love you too."

"I wanted to be the first one to say that," He pouted. You chuckled softly and booped his nose.

"You already have." He smiled and kissed your forehead lightly.

"I know this won't fix everything right away. I know you'll still have bad days. But I wanted you to know you could come to me too."

"I know. Thank you again, Sherlock." At that moment, John walked in with a bag from the store.

"Oh, hello!" He chirped, happy to see you hadn't gotten into a yelling match. Then he noticed Sherlock's shirt, or rather, lack thereof. "So, uh," He stuttered, unsure of what to say. "What should I do with this?"

"First of all, thank you, John, for giving me the guts to talk to him about this. And second, I think I'll give it a try. You know, to try and prevent a really bad day when you guys aren't available or if talking still isn't enough. But for today I think I'll be alright," You said, turning to John with a smile.

"Well, I'm glad. So did you just talk about that or did he finally tell you that he's had the biggest schoolboy crush on you from the moment he met you?"

"John!" Sherlock yelled. You laughed loudly.

"Not in those words exactly, John," You replied. "Don't worry," You added, turning to Sherlock and ruffling his curls. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Good. Now if you don't mind, I need your input on this case."

"Me?" You asked, quite surprised.

"Yes," He said as if it was obvious. "You're a woman after all!"

"And that is important because?"

"The killer was a woman obviously but I can't understand why she would do it!" The two of you went off into your own little world, completely ignoring John as he cooked dinner.

John: Ok, mates, get your tuxs out. Won't be long now.

Greg: He finally proposed? 😀

John: Not yet, give it a week.

Mycroft: John, you forget I monitor his spending habits.

John: And?

Mycroft: He's had a ring purchased for some time now.

Greg: 3 days tops.💍

Mycroft: I would estimate about 3 days as well, Detective Inspector.

Greg: We're in a Group Text. Talking about our friend like a bunch of teenage girls at a slumber party. I think you can call me Greg.

Mycroft: If I must.

John: So, girls, will you help me make the plans?

Mycroft: Of course. He is blood after all.

Greg: Count me in! Wouldn't miss it! 🕵️👰

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

@gaitwae

@for-hearthand-home

#sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock oneshot #depression #ptsd #mentions of torture #self harm discussion #potentially triggering #trigger warning #TW #anxiety #good friends #john watson #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade

[kirschteinsj]

Pinky Promises

Nanami x fem! reader

Warnings: nothing too much! maybe language but overall just a bunch of fluff and lovey dovey stuff 

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Domestic Nanami and reader, just thinking about how much they love each other. sappy and cute stuff.

A/N: Hi! ^_^ Second time posting, I’ve had this one shot saved for a bit now! finally posting it lolz. I've noticed a lot of people have written domestic Nanami pics or drawn art, very glad society as a whole has this perception of him. it truly heals the soul I think. anyway, I hope u like this and sorry if there’s any grammar errors I wasnt able to catch U_U im thinking of doing a hc post next.... unsure hm, we’ll see ^_^!!

“I’m hooooome.” He says loudly as he steps through the apartment door, setting his briefcase down and taking off his beige coat. Putting down the grand kitchen knife she was using to chop up spinach, she rushed to the door with a smile and engulfed the tall blonde into a tight hug, saying hello. She took a deep breath, inhaling the soft scent of his cologne, the smell of something sour and musty soon taking over. Her face scrunched up and she let out a giggle.

“Oh god, Nanami, you stink, what did you go against today?”

“Nothing too bad. Just a grade 3,” He sighed “A smelly grade 3.” He sounded disappointed, probably because he knew he stunk too. Though the smell was horrendous, she still remained in his arms and he still held on just as tight.

“Are you tired? I was thinking of making dinner with you tonight but if you’re too tired I can-”

“No no. I’m fine. Just let me wash up and I’ll help out.”

“You sure?” She asked looking up towards him, questioning once more to reassure. He looked down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m sure, dear.”

While he showers upstairs, she gets back to readying the ingredients so they could begin cooking their masterpiece as soon as possible. Tonight she had chosen chicken alfredo with a tossed salad; One could say it was her favourite, but saying that would imply that she would eat it when cooked and served by whomever. But to her, she would only eat it when it was him who had made it for her.

Y/n adored him. He adored her. To her, he was her light. She could simply not imagine life without him, not after he had come in and changed her in such a way. She never in a million years would have thought to be so in love with someone. To have known someone who cared enough to hear all about her day or listen to all her tangents, whether they made sense or not. Who listened to her talk forever about anything just so he could see the faint glow of passion in her eyes. Someone who remembered the small details in regards to the things she loved and the things she despised; Like how she hated the feeling of peanut butter on her fingers and how she absolutely admired the scent of fresh pages in a new book. Sometimes, she felt undeserving of him.

He admired her like no other. Never did he believe he’d be capable of opening up to anyone in such a way, at least not until she walked into his life. He could write a million lists, all full of everything he loved about her. The way she smiled cheekily at him after a witty remark, how she'd give every hug as if it was the last, the way she was oh so patient with him. It took him time to become vulnerable in the slightest, he just didn’t know how to do so without burdening her. She knew his job was hard, he’d told her. But rather than running away like he expected, she stayed with him right by his side. She refused to leave him over that. If anything, it made her want to stay more since she felt the need to be there for him. It felt like a punch to the gut but a good one. “So, is this love?” He had asked himself then. Nanami had someone who brought out the much more joyful side to him. At the end of the day, he knew he’d walk through the front door only to see her, arms wide open and with a big smile offering a cozy hug. She was his home. Sometimes, he felt undeserving of her.

Putting the final piece of broccoli into the container, she tidies any clutter and went back to their shared bedroom. Sinking into the bed and falling on it with a plush thump, she lets out a deep sigh mixed with some sort of a groan. She herself was exhausted from work too to say the least. She didn’t deal with curses or anything like that, but she did teach a class of 9 year olds which one could consider just as frustrating. Yawning, she checks her phone to read the time: 6:15 PM. Nanami hadn’t been in the shower for too long, a small nap wouldn’t hurt. Quickly, she settled for a little 30 minute nap. That way, she could get up soon enough to help him out in the kitchen and not abandon him to do everything on his own. She turns her phone off and slowly, her eyes shut.

…

Y/n slowly opens her eyes and notices a grey throw blanket placed on her, something that she doesn’t recall going to bed with earlier. “Must’ve been Nanami.” Grabbing her phone, she turns the screen on, wincing at the incredible blue light piercing into her skull. “Fuck.” she mumbles. Once her eyes adjust, she glances back at the screen for the time: 7:30.

“FUCK,” she says, voice croaking “I overslept.” With the speed of light, she leaves bed and runs down the hall to the bathroom to freshen up. She soon makes her way over to the kitchen silently, slightly ashamed and guilty. Y/n mumbles a whine with a frown, “He’s probably done making things now. I could have helped.”

The kitchen is filled with the delicate scents of sauces, cheese and herbs. She watches him from the door frame, admiring her boyfriend. He stood in front of the stove mixing at the sauce for the alfredo, which scent alone made her mouth water. Nanami seems to be in his own world, as he stands humming to himself softly, stirring the pot of sauce and adding in the broccoli and spinach, not seeming to notice y/n. With a final stir, he carefully sets the lid and turns to rinse his hands. Her gaze sits upon his figure, how his grey oversized shirt slightly clings to his shoulders and loosens as it goes down his body. Looking down, she noticed the bright red christmas pyjamas he had on, the ones with adorable little reindeers all over them. Grinning, she remembers how she had bought those for him. She purchased a matching set for the two of them and insisted on wearing them all day on Christmas last year. Nanami had responded to the idea with a stern “No” which left y/n in shambles. She didn’t expect him to agree, but hey, a girl can dream. However, on Christmas day, lo and behold, she had woken up to find Nanami sitting on the couch, watching the news with his reindeer PJs on. Immediately, she had attacked him with hugs and kisses and all Nanami did was sit there and accept them, secretly loving it the whole time.

A deep voice throws her out of her thoughts. “You know, it’s rude to stare, right?”

Y/n chuckles quietly and makes her way over, wrapping her arms around him from behind, snuggling into his back.

“I like to stare at you, you’re cute,” she breathes in his scent once again, “ah, you smell so much better now. Like the nami I know.”

“I am not cute. I am a grown man.”

“C’mon, you can’t possibly be saying that right now. Not while you’re wearing these pants.” She coos, gently patting his butt. He goes silent, refusing to rebuttal knowing that he’s lost. He leans against the counter, his front facing her. Though he didn’t say anything, y/n sees this as an open invite to his arms. The rope of his arms finds her waist this time, her arms in an embrace around his neck.

“Whatever, tell me, how was your day, hm?” He posed, changing the subject.

“Same old, yenno. The kids and I had a discussion today about drugs and safety. It was cute, hearing them rat out their neighbours for smoking cigs and talk about how yucky they thought alcohol is. It was… sweet. How was work for you, hon?”

“Shit.” He retorts, closing his eyes, “Work is shit.”

“Oh come ON, I’m sure it’s not always that bad, right? Say, how’s your friend doing, you know, the one who kinda looks like one of my makeup brushes! Isn’t he good company?”

“Yeah, if good company means having to deal with a nuisance to society on a daily basis then by all means, yes, Gojo is wonderful company.” He joked, loosening his grip on her and making his way over to the stove to check on his sauce. She follows, opening the first drawer and pulling out a silver spoon, “You’re so mean sometimes. I think he’s a great guy to be around! I met him once, such a flirt.”

He teases calmly, “If you love him so much, why don’t you get with him?”

Taking her spoon, she lowers it into the pot and brings it back up to her face, blowing on it carefully before she puts it to her lips to taste. “Hmm, I would. But I don’t think he’s as big as you. I’ll have to pass.” She smirked, putting the spoon into her mouth as he watched and sighed in disappointment.

He glares,“God, you’re something else.”

“I’m just kidding, babe.” Bringing her spoon down for another taste. He swats at her hand and she retreats it with a whine. “Don’t do that. You’ve tried it already, and will again when we get to eat.” He scolded tenderly, “Plus, you shouldn’t be given these privileges anyway. It’s not like you helped out or anything.” He smiled, teasing her.

“Nanamiiii, I’m sorry,” she whines, half laughing, “I promise, I was going to help! I just got a little bit sleepy and sort of lost track of time…” He turned over to her and lifted her face with a finger under her chin. Laughing, he delicately caresses her cheek, tapping it admirably with a curled finger. The blonde chuckles and looks her in the eyes, “I’m just joking with you, love. I know you’ve been tired lately, I can tell. Why haven’t you been resting?”

Her smile falls and she sighs. Y/n wrapped her arms around his waist and brought him into her, hiding her face into his chest. It was true, she was exhausted but she didn’t deem it to be anything so serious. Work was just heavy this past week from having to grade her students’ work in time for report cards. All she wanted was the best for her kids and was finding ways to get the kids out of their comfort zones enough to do well in class. That reminded her, Nanami also mentioned having a student of his own.

She takes her face out of his chest and glances upwards. “It’s just this week of work, I promise I’ll be back to normal soon. I’ve just been busy with lesson plans and activities, yenno. Anyway, speaking of students, how’s the one you’ve been assigned to?” She posed in a soft tone. Half smiling, he turned around to add the strained pasta to the sauce, scattering it into the pot.

“He’s special. Quite lively. And cheerful. He reminds me of you sometimes,” his voice strains as he stretches to grab the bowl of cooked chicken to finally add into the pot, finishing the meal, “He’s got potential.” Y/n beamed with happiness. Nanami really seemed to like this kid and if he thought you had potential, then it sure as hell meant you had it.

She lets out a squeal, “EEEEEEK!!! That sounds amazing! I’m so happy for you!” Nanami suppressed a laugh and rolled his eyes, “It’s not that-”

“This calls for a drink, don’t you think?” She babbled with excitement, “We should have some wine! Right?”

Grabbing her wrist as she skipped her way over to the bottle, he reminded her, “You have school tomorrow. You always end up having more than needed and struggle to wake up in the morning.” Y/n frowned at his words, to which he noticed and tried to fix, “Tomorrow’s Friday, you can drink plenty tomorrow, hm? I’ll drink with you.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re right. But you have to promise.”

“I promise you ca-”

“No! You have to pinky-promise.” She demanded, pouting as he stuck out her pinky finger.

His heart skips a beat. Was she always this cute? Her angelic eyes stare into his tired ones. Bottom lip poking out, awaiting Nanami’s pinky to interlock with her own. He knew she took pinky-promises very seriously despite her grown age. It was among one of the many petty details that he cherished. Something about this pinky-promise was enough for her to ensure trust onto someone, it made him laugh. Her naivety is what made her so kind hearted, what allowed her to see the best in people. He felt that this naivety is why they’re together to begin with. He didn’t ever think she’d give him a chance. He reminisced of their first few encounters. The way she did her hair back then, the way she dressed, her shy smile and how she’d look at the floor whenever she’d blush. Maybe it was her timid nature that made him fall head over heels for her. Or maybe it was her generosity. Perhaps her beauty. He was unable to simply confine the reasoning for his infatuation with just a few traits. She grew overtime, more comfortable and less shy, she was more confident around him but he knew he could still make her blush so badly that she’d have to hide her face from him. He enjoyed their banter, her company. He felt it was luck. Or maybe it was fate. Who knows. He didn’t want to think so much about it. He wanted to live in the moment, adore her in this present time. In that instance, he felt the strong urge to kiss her. And so he did.

The kiss was short and sweet, yet full of an unfathomable amount of love. It took her aback, she didn’t quite see it coming. She too stood in the present moment, then and there, cherishing the man she loved.

His lips leave hers and he extends the smallest finger on his hand, declaring, “I pinky-promise.” And a ginormous grin washes over her face. In a whisper, she squeals and scoops her arms around his torso, resting her head onto his chest. They stay like this for a while, not too long really, but to them it felt like an eternity being in each other’s affectionate embrace. He goes to speak and she feels the vibrating boom of his voice make his way up from his chest.

“I love you.”

She sighs, “I love you too.”

Turning her head, y/n smoothly gets on her tip toes and clasps her arms around his neck, giving it a tender kiss and attempting to make a trail leading up to his sharp jaw. Catching onto her tactics he laughs, putting his big hand against her face and pushing her back.

“Seriously?” He chuckles, “You couldn’t wait till after dinner? Come on, take out the plates.”

“Wait for what? I was just kissing you! You’re so dramatic, Nami.” She lies, playing innocent. She knew damn well what she was trying to do. She wasn’t going to admit to it though. Taking out the plates and utensils, she readied the table.

…

After dinner and meaningless conversation, the two lovers tidied and headed towards their room. “Do yo wana wah a mohee tomowwow nie?” Y/n proposed from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth. He perks his head up, confused, “Do I want to what?” She spat into the sink and rinsed her mouth, repeating her question.

“I said, do you wanna watch a movie tomorrow night? Like at home? There’s this documentary I saw on Netflix, it looks really good! It’s crime related.”

“That sounds fine with me. Though, that’s only possible if you don’t end up drinking too much. I always have to get you to sleep early when you drink.” He states nonchalantly, nose poked into a thick book. She rolls her eyes and smiles, “I promise I won’t drink all that much.” Shifting his book to the opposing hand, Nanami silently takes his pinky finger and holds it out to y/n. She snickers and reciprocates.

“You’ve now pinky-promised. Don’t break it, y/n.”

“I never do.”

The nightstand lamp illuminates the room with a soft yellow glow. Shadows of objects on the nightstand hang on the walls. Laying in bed on her phone, y/n turns over to Nanami, who was still reading his book. “Nami, come lay next to me, I wanna cuddle. Please?” Her voice faint. He looks down at her and puts his book away immediately. He could use a cuddle too. Bringing himself down, he lays on his back, y/n closing the gap between the two. Their legs intertwine, her arm and head resting on his chest while one of his hands rested on her bum, the other dotingly playing with her hair. Neither of them spoke a word for a while. Until y/n broke the silence.

“So, were there no other pairs of pants you had left to wear or-”

“Please, be quiet.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk hcs #jjk oneshot #jjk x y/n #nanami smut #nanami hcs #nanami oneshot #nanami kento #jjk gojo #gojo #gojo satoru #writing #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen hcs #hcs #nanami fluff #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #nanami x reader

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we’ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

#bnha 292 #best jeanist #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #hadou nejire #toogata mirio #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[marvelmusing]

Making Time

Mobius M Mobius x Reader

Part 2

My Masterlist

“1985, huh?” You say, looking up from the briefing Mobius has just handed you.

“Yeah, maybe we’ll spot a delorian?” He jokes, making a Back to the Future reference. You smile at him, remembering when you’d first mentioned the movie. You hadn’t been at the TVA long, to your knowledge.

You’re sat in one of the cafes, explaining something about the timeline to Casey, and you make an offhand reference to the movie. To which, Casey looks even more confused. You glance at Mobius, who’s been sat next to you, watching your teaching with a smile. You offer them both a small smile, at yet another reminder that you’re from somewhere very different from the rest of them.

“Neither of you have seen it have you?” Mobius shakes his head.

“Not a lot of chances for watching movies when dealing with the timeline. Should we get the chance, I’d love to.” It’s a few days later when you give him the chance.

“Honey, I’m home.” You hear Mobius call out, which brings a smile to your face. Whilst you had your own apartment, you much preferred staying with Mobius, like you did when you first arrived at the TVA. You hear him set down a pile of papers in the kitchen, before making his way into the lounge where you’re sat waiting for him. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’s all this?”

“Back to the Future. I went through my file, and managed to find a version that I watched that was uninterrupted. Then I isolated it, and copied it onto one of those cassette reel things, so that it’ll play on your mini projector.” You pause, before adding, “I probably put too much effort into this but, I thought we could have what my time considers a movie night?”

“A movie night?” Your face falls slightly, feeling embarrassed by your suggestion.

“We don’t have to-“ you start. He shrugs off his jacket and settles down next to you.

“Did I not tell you I wanted to watch it, should I get the chance?”

“Well, yeah.” He gestures to the projector.

“Let’s get this show on a roll.” You grin at him, before quickly pressing play on the projector. Mobius leans an arm on the couch and pulls you to his side. “You finally have clearance to access to your file, and you use it to watch Back to the Future?”

“What else was I supposed to do with it?” You joke.

You and Mobius head to the cubicle where you left Loki this morning. You spot him wapping against the desk with a magazine.

“Training going well?” You ask him. He leans back in his chair, attempting to look casual.

“Yeah.”

“Is that my jet ski magazine?” Mobius asks him. “Put it down. Gear up. There's been an attack. Let's go.” He hands Loki the jacket he’s been carrying. You set the briefing down on the desk, and follow Mobius. Loki trails behind you. “Put it on.” Loki shrugs the jacket on, adjusting the collar before posing.

“Nice.” You tell him with a smile.

“Good. Yeah, smart.” Mobius says distractedly. You soon reach the Timedoors, where a small group of hunters have gathered to wait. B-15 opens up the briefing.

“C-20 and her team went dark shortly after they jumped into the 1985 branch. All signs point to another ambush. We've grabbed enough temporal aura to know it's our Loki Variant. But which kind of Loki, remains unknown.”

“They're the lesser kind, to be clear.” Loki specifies. B-15 sighs,

“Let me see the back of that jacket.” Loki does a small turn, showing the group the back of his jacket, where the bright orange letters reading VARIANT stand out. Everyone is the group shares a small smile. You’re glad you don’t have to wear one of those anymore.

“Very subtle. Well done.”

“I don't want anybody out there to forget what you are.”

“Oh, your only hope of capturing a murderer?”

“No. A cosmic mistake.”

“That's enough.” Mobius interrupts.

“Lovely.” You hear Loki murmur.

“Here's the deal.” Mobius begins. “When we get out on the branch, we're not just looking for a Time Criminal. We're looking for a Loki. A variation of this guy. A type we should all be very familiar with, because the TVA has pruned a lotta these guys, almost more than any other Variant.” He skims through a few of the Loki Variants that the TVA have caught before. “And no two are alike. Slight differences in appearances, or not so slight. Different powers, although, powers generally include: shapeshifting, illusion projection, and my favourite-”

“Duplication casting.” Loki interrupts

“Illusion projection.”

“No, they're two completely different powers.”

“How?” You ask him.

“Illusion-projection involves depicting a detailed image from outside oneself, which is perceptible in the external world, whereas duplication-casting entails recreating an exact facsimile of one's own body in its present circumstance, which acts as a true holographic mirror of its molecular structure. But you already knew that.” He explains. You catch a glimpse of Mobius’s smirk before he says,

“Okay, take a breath. Noted. We're gonna break into two teams, including myself and Professor Loki.”

“Why?” A hunter stood beside you asks.

“Because whoever this Variant is, we haven't been able to find him. So let's bring in an expert.” Loki looks around at the group before adding a quiet,

“That's me.”

As the hunters prepare themselves, you hear Loki ask, “Do I get a weapon?” You laugh lightly,

“No chance.”

“Well, I'll have my magic back. Is no one concerned about that?”

“Of what?” Mobius asks.

“Me betraying you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You know that we’ll just catch you again.” You tell him.

“And how's betraying us gonna get you any closer to the Time-Keepers?” Mobius adds. Loki leans forward, his attention fixed on Mobius.

“An audience with the Time-Keepers is on the table?”

“Keep that focus.” Mobius tells him. The three of you follow the hunters through the Timedoor, and out into 1985 Wisconsin. Your group makes their way through the crowd of the Renaissance fair before entering a large tent. It’s dark inside, with only a few lanterns to light your path. You watch as B-15 bends down to grasp examine a helmet left abandoned on the floor.

“So he's taking hostages now?” She says, turning to Mobius.

“The Variant's never taken a hostage before.”

“Maybe he's upping his game.”

“Or he pruned her.” One of the hunters remarks, you frown at his callousness towards his colleague.

“A Loki couldn't have gotten the jump on C-20.”

“I think you underestimate, actually...” Loki begins.

“Fan out and search for her. And hurry up, we're at three units until red line.” B-15 orders. Mobius sets a hand on your arm, and the two of you head to the exit.

“Come on.” He says to Loki.

“Wait. If you leave this tent, you'll end up like them.” Mobius stops beside Loki.

“What do you see?”

“I see a scheme, and in that scheme, I see myself.” Loki begins to ramble about an old Asgardian saying.

“Two units. He is wasting our time.” B-15 interrupts.

“Okay. Come on, Loki, make a long story short.” Mobius encourages.

“We need to look for C-20.”

“That's exactly what the Variant wants you to do. It's a trap. He's waiting for you outside this tent.”

“Should I secure the reset charges?”

“No. He wants me. I'm the key to his plan. He knows that I'm stronger. And he rightly believes that together we can overthrow and rule the TVA. But that's not what I want. I have a new purpose. I'm a servant of the Sacred Timeline. And knowing what I now know about his tactics, I can deliver you the Variant, but I need assurances.” He says, looking to Mobius. You glance up at Mobius, frowning slightly. Surely he isn’t believing what Loki’s saying? His eyes catch yours and there’s a small twinkle in them. You hide your smile. Loki circles around Mobius.

“Yeah?” Mobius offers.

“Assurances that I won't be completely disintegrated the moment the job has been done.”

“Right.” Loki leans forward, before whispering,

“We'll need to speak to the Time-Keepers at once. They're in graver danger than we realized.”

“He's lying. Just playing games. There's no one out there.” Mobius calls out to the group.

“Reset the timeline.” B-15 orders.

“You had me for a second. My ears are sharp too.” He points at Loki’s chest. You follow Mobius out of the tent.

“Well that went well.” You remark, hearing Mobius sigh. He runs his hand over his face.

You’re tucking into your lunch when you spot Mobius. He picks out a drink and a salad before making his way over to you. You give him a small smile,

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“How did it go with Renslayer?” He sighs, leaning his head back, before getting comfortable in his seat.

“Well, our Loki hasn’t been deleted yet.”

“That’s good then?” You offer. He sighs,

“Yeah. Though he’s getting more and more talkative.”

“You did say he loves to talk. Where is he now?”

“I’ve left him with the archives, hopefully he’ll be reading for the next few days. Or at least long enough for me to finish lunch.” He begins to eat his salad. Just then, Loki scampers in looking like a manic puppy.

“I found something.” Mobius shakes his head, keeping his attention on his lunch,

“No, I said don’t bother me until you've read all the files.”

“I have.”

“Every file?”

“Yes.”

“Pertaining to the Variant?”

“The answer isn't in the files, it's on the timeline. He's hiding in apocalypses.”

“Which apocalypse?” You ask.

“Any time in history? There's, like, a million of 'em.” Mobius adds.

“Ragnarok. Are you familiar?”

“Yes. The destruction of Asgard and most of its people. I'm sorry.” Loki pauses looking down.

“Yes, very sad.” He immediately perks up again. “Anyway, it got me thinking. Nexus events happen when someone does something they're not supposed to do, right?”

“Well, it's a little more complicated, but, yeah.”

“Great. And then that thing they're not supposed to do, cascades into a whole range of other things that aren't supposed to happen.”

“And so on and so forth, until eventually, a new timeline branches. Yes?”

“Chaotic alterations of a predetermined outcome.”

“Exactly. So, let's just say...” He picks up the salad bowl from in front of Mobius.

“Mm-hm. What are you doing?”

“...your salad is Asgard in this scenario.” Loki continues.

“It's not Asgard, that's my lunch.” Mobius complains, the pouting clear in his voice. You lean forward, a hand on your chin to hide the smile at Mobius’s reaction.

“It's a metaphor. Just hang in there.”

“I want that salad.”

“And I could go down to Asgard before Ragnarok causes its complete destruction and I could do anything I wanted. I could, let's say, push the Hulk off the Rainbow Bridge.” He picks up a salt shaker and puts a large sprinkling of salt across Mobius’s salad.

“There he goes.” You say, feeling rather invested in this metaphor.

“The salt's Hulk?” Mobius asks, clearly not as enthusiastic as you.

“And I could also... Set fire to the palace.” He picks up a pepper pot and shakes the pepper across the salad.

“No, just stop. Don't set fire to the palace.”

“Okay? I can do whatever I want to do, and it would never matter. It wouldn't go against the dictates of the timeline because...” He sets down the shakers after nearly emptying them both. He heads to the table behind you. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, God!” Mobius sighs.

“You!” Recognising the voice you look up to see Casey looking very confused.

“Nice to see you. I just need this for a second. Thanks.” Loki picks up Casey’s carton of juice, before sitting back down at your table. “Because the apocalypse is coming. Ragnarok, Surtur will destroy Asgard no matter what I do.”

“No, don't do...” Mobius sighs as Loki empties the carton over the remains of the salad.

“There's the apocalypse.” You say with a sigh, offering Mobius your bag of chips.

“That's the apocalypse?” He asks, taking a handful of chips from you with a smile.

“Ragnarok obliterates the salt. Ragnarok. There it is.” Loki gestures to the ruined salad with a proud smile.

“What am I lookin' at?”

“Okay, it was a clumsy metaphor. But you see what I mean. It doesn't matter. It could be any apocalypse. It could be a tidal wave. It could be a meteor. It could be a volcano, a supernova. If everything and everyone around you is destined for imminent destruction, then nothing that I say or do will matter, because the timeline's not gonna branch. Hence, the Variant could be hiding in the apocalypse and do whatever he wants, and we wouldn't know!”

“Not bad.” You offer.

“Take me to a real apocalypse, to Ragnarok, I'll show you.” Mobius chuckles,

“Yeah. So you can run away back to your homeland? No.”

“No, I'm not going home. We can go anywhere.”

“I'm not taking you for a stroll along the promenade, much less an apocalypse.”

“Oh, Mobius, come on! What could possibly go wrong? We gotta properly test this theory.”

“Well, here's a fun theory. You lure me out into the field, and stab me in the back. And that's a theory I don't wanna test.”

“I'd never stab anyone in the back. That's such a boring form of betrayal.” He most definitely would stab someone in the back.

“Loki, I've studied almost every moment of your entire life. You've literally stabbed people in the back, like 50 times.”

“Well, I'd never do it again, because it got old.” You both laugh at this. Mobius looks at you, and you shrug.

“Might as well try it?” You offer. Mobius nods,

“Okay.”

“Okay, look, you don't trust me, you can trust one thing. I love to be right.” Loki adds. That certainly isn’t a lie.

Tagslist: @n0obmaster69 @mackycat11 @wibblywobblyjeremybearimy @boriqs @morganwilliams @greeneyedblondie44

If you’d like to be tagged just ask!!

#mobius m mobius x reader #mobius x reader #agent mobius #mobius #mobius m mobius #mobius loki #loki 2021 #tva loki #time variance authority #marvel au #marvel x reader

[suddenlysackler]

Limelight

Adam Sackler x Reader

TW: N/A (maybe a lil smidge of angst but nothing major)

A/N: This has been on the back burner for quite a bit and it’s a tad messy but I wanted to put it out for you all because I miss you and I miss my goblin bf and, ya know, Cannes 2021. Thank you for reading, I’m hopeful that I’ll be back more frequently in the coming weeks!

...

Adam Sackler had ascertained very quickly that he did not care for red carpets in the slightest. 

Given what he had found himself struggling through his late teens and seemingly all of his twenties, the relief of finally, finally, finally achieving some sort of steady stream of work and establishing himself as a serious actor provided relief that he could not be more grateful for. 

He liked being able to turn down the $800 a month from his grandmother and moving out of his apartment for good this time, trading up for some swanky new town house in upper Manhattan. He liked being able to afford to be choosy about what jobs he took and he liked that he was able to split his time between stage and screen. Hell, he’d even tried his hand at directing some dumb indie film that landed him right smack dab in the middle of Sundance.

Which is when he found out he hated red carpets.

He absolutely hated the insincerity of all of it — the rushed interviews, the posing for what seemed like hours on end for photographs that he’d probably never even see and he wasn’t allowed to smile for exactly like he’d want to. He hated answering the same questions over and over again and rubbing elbows with reporters from tabloids asking about off screen romances and making it blatantly clear to him that they weren’t interested in the art he had just helped create.

Along the way, maybe five red carpet events into his career, he met you. To his surprise, he didn’t meet you through a mutual friend or at a party or by yelling at you to stop taking food from open containers in the store he was working in. He met you because he accidentally took your coffee on a Wednesday morning before you could grab it and you promptly chased him down 45th street and cussed him out by using every single insult you could manage.

And that’s when things just clicked for him.

Everything fell into place after you came into his life and suddenly he felt even more fulfilled than he originally figured was even possible. He liked coming home to you after long days on set or at the theater. He liked bringing you to see different projects he was working on during production or bringing you to advanced screenings or dress rehearsals. Whenever he got a script, you were the first one he talked to about whether or not to even try for the role. He never wanted to object you to the horror that was a red carpet.

Not until now, anyway.

It was the first time that you had happened to be available for one and, yeah, he had invited you to all of the ones he had been to since you had been together but he didn’t necessarily want to take you. Of all of the things in his world that he wanted to show you, premiere events were the one thing he wanted to shelter you from. You knew about the drinking, the philandering of his early to mid twenties, the string of psycho ex girlfriends who he swore might show up at your shared doorstep at any given time to rip him a new one. Despite all of that shit, you’d some how managed to still like him, love him even. He didn’t want to chase you away with the bullshit that came with his career.

Maybe this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back?

You’d said yes without hesitation and his stomach dropped. He knew you never turned down an excuse to dress up, to impress him and make him feel proud of the fact that you were his girl, just his. So, on the night of the Tony Awards, he sat in the hotel room his manager had reserved for the two of you to get ready with the help of a team of aestheticians and hair dressers and tailors watching you twirl in what was probably the most expensive ball gown you would ever wear in childlike delight. Music of your choice played softly on someone’s phone and you could hardly stay still enough for the finishing touches that were being pushed into your face. You looked and felt like a million bucks and Adam knew that, but how was he supposed to enjoy it? He was too preoccupied with figuring out what he would do if you freaked out on him, threatened to leave him or some shit, after the circus act you were about to parade through in order to get to your final destination of the night.

“You look handsome.” You called from the chair you had been forced into, eyes opened wide for quick swipes of mascara.

Adam was so far gone, lost in his thoughts and strapped with worry. He didn’t hear you compliment him. He didn’t see you get up and he felt as though the force of you slotting yourself between his slightly parted legs was a ghost of a touch. “Hey, doll.” He mumbled when he finally did notice you.

One of your eyebrows quirked up. “You good, Adam?” 

He sensed some wavering in your voices, maybe some concern. Maybe some doubt? “I’m okay, just hate this shit.”

The other eyebrow followed the first. “What do you mean you hate this shit?” You ask as his publicist swept into the room and began to shoo the two of you out the door and down to stand for pictures and questions. 

He held your hand tightly as you weaved down the hall and into the elevator. “I just don’t like this part.” He shrugged and you squeeze his hand as you listen. “Worried it’ll bug you as much as it bugs me.”

“I mean, I’d walk over hot coals to see you in a tux.” You teased, eyes bright. When he doesn’t shoot back with a response characteristic of his normally playful bravado, some of that brightness leaves your expression. “You know I’m just happy to be with you, right? I’m proud of you.”

Adam hummed in response and squeezed your hand back. “I know.”

You weren’t having his clipped answers. “I don’t care that there are going to be pictures or tons of people watching. You know that shit won’t make me think differently of you.”

He remained quiet after giving you another shrug, still completely scared out of his mind that your words were just that, words. That you’d hit the ground running and never look back as soon as you realized just what supporting him at these things entailed.

The silence lasted for the rest of the elevator ride, through the lobby, and in the limousine and in the little holding room they put you in that is riddled with all of the snacks he would tease you for indulging in had the circumstances been different. He was tense, his muscles tight, tight, tight from his jaw to his calves, knee bouncing and free hand clenching and unclenching right until the moment his name was called. 

The moment wasn’t awful to begin with. It’s mostly pausing and stopping a lot of times for Adam to take pictures while you watch from the sidelines and, every so often, he pulls you in for a few. He doesn’t tell you that, in the moments he doesn’t have his arm around you, that isn’t kissing your cheek chastely and holding your hand, that he feels like he’s drowning. 

It didn’t phase you as you listened to reporters hound him about his female costar and whether or not they were seeing each other. It really didn’t even phase you when one man asked you to “step aside” and referred to you as Adam’s friend, despite his tight grip on your waist and the tender glances his stole every twenty seconds or so. And honestly, you didn’t really care that you might have gotten jostled up a little bit by photographers and other reporters as you stepped aside, more than happy to speed up the process for Adam.

But Adam would not have that, not at all.

“We’re fuckin’ done.” Adam growled, his eyes locking on your face as soon as he noticed you stumble a bit. He left without another word to any of the reporters and looked for his publicist, who was beyond livid at the fact that Adam was blowing off his responsibilities without much of an explanation. Before he went up to him, he grabbed your hand and dragged you along with him, not saying another word.

After a hushed but tense back and forth between the two men, the three of you stepped out of the view of the public and quickly found one of the many green rooms for invited guests to cool down and touch up hair and make up before heading into the venue. 

He paced and paced and paced for a long moment, leaving you to sit on the couch and watch with bated breath, praying that his older destructive tendencies didn’t suddenly find their way back to the surface of his psyche. 

After a long while, you finally spoke. “Can you come here?” You whispered, eyes round and, to be frank, a bit desperate. 

Adam came to you without a moment’s hesitation and knelt in front of you, placing his head in your lap and putting your hands in his hair. “Are you going to leave me tonight?” He mumbled into the tulle of your dress.

A soft smile crossed your lips and you shook your head, then moved to cup his cheeks and lift his face up to look at your own. “Now why would I even consider doing that?” You hummed. 

“After that shit show? Any sane person would leave.”

“Whoever said I was sane? Isn’t that why you like me?” 

He chuckled at that and nodded, biting back a comment about how anyone would have to be insane to want to stay with him for as long as you had. “That was just some totally bullshit and you know it, doll.”

You shrugged and shook your head once more. “Nothing I can’t handle, I’ve had my fair share of total bullshit with old haunts showing up on our doorstep, huh?” You made sure to keep your tone teasing, not wanting him to feel as though he needed to shoulder any of the blame for the situation.

Adam laughed again and relaxed visibly for the first time all night. “Do you want to even stay?” He asked, his own voice a bit more reassured. 

“Of course I want to stay, you’re up for an award, dummy.” You giggle, letting your head fall back as he moved up to pepper your exposed neck with kisses and playful bites. “And there’s the after party — I heard there’s going to be some damn good desserts and music.”

He flashed you a smirk when he pulled back and stood, then offered his hand to you. “What is it you always say when I ask to eat out on the way home from shit?” He proposed.

You stood and took his hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing before walking toward the door. “What do you mean?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Adam’s smirk only widened as he held the door open for you and smacked your ass before letting you go. “We have dessert at home.”

#Adam Sackler #Sackler #adam x reader #adam sackler x reader #sackler x reader #reader self insert #adam sackler fic #sackler fic #adcu #adcu reader insert #adcu fic

[diegos-butt]

Electricity chapter 4

Summary: For the first time in her life, Melody Williams is moving out of her hometown to Minnesota where she got a job as a crime journalist for the Minnesota Daily. But this city does not only have a new job for her to offer. What will happen when she crosses paths with detective Walter Marshall? Heads up, a little electricity is involved ✨

Walter Marshall x Melody Williams (Curvy OFC)

Warnings: mention of murder, a bit of fighting

Wordcount: 3.9k

A/N: don’t do anything reckless y’all. Let me know what you think of this chapter. 😘

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

•••

Somehow the universe was on my side for once. Once I got home, I noticed I had a new text message. I was surprised to see that it was from Walter. He asked if I got home safe. What a gentleman.

I figured he just wanted to make sure I got home safe, I didn’t think too much of it. If anything, I didn’t think we would end up texting each other for three days in a row. Did I wish that would happen? Yes. Did I actually believe it could happen? Definitely no. I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t believe it.

“Have you been texting with him again last night?” Gia asked when she saw me yawn and stretch my arms out above me. We were having a slow morning at work, and this was the third time she showed up at my desk.

“Maybe,” I smirked. Even though it started a little awkward, we were still texting. After I had texted him back that I got home safe, and he send a thumbs up emoji, it was silent for a moment. I had thought about what I could possibly text him next. I grabbed my phone to compose a text when a new message already popped up.

Walter: Still sure you want to live here?

A smile had formed on my face. He thinks he is funny huh. I was wondering what I could text back, and I thought to myself: what would I tell my friends to text back in a situation like this? Normally, I would never listen to my own flirting advice, but at that moment, I did.

Melody: Might stick around. Heard the detectives in town are quite something.

Since then, we had been texting constantly. Alright, maybe not constantly, we were both busy during the day, but we spend a good amount of the late evening texting. We got to know each other a little better. I told him about my family, and I shared a few awkward stories. For example, I told him about the time I was too stubborn to put on sunscreen during the summer, and I got sunburned to bad, I would never forget to apply it ever again. I still apply it every day, even in the winter.

In return he told me all about the shenanigans he pulled as a kid, and that he had a kid himself, Faye. At first, I was a little bit surprised, but then I figured we would have a babysitter once we would get children. Mel, get it together. You are not even dating him, you don’t even know if he likes you and you are already thinking about having children with him?! Our kids would look damn cute though..

“Earth to Mel! Stop daydreaming for once, and get some work done.” Carmen laughed and threw a pen at me, which I skilfully dodged, but it did wake me up from my little daydream.

“There is nothing to do! No development in the murder case and that’s all I am covering right now,” I said and spun around in my chair. “I am so bored right now, I don’t even know what to do.”

“Text your man, see if he has any new information?” Gia suggested.

“Hmm, he avoided talking about the case. Maybe they are having trouble getting a match with the murderer on that dating app.” I had told them about what happened the other day at the police station. I might have a hearing problem now because they had screamed so loud, I’m convinced the entire building heard them. It’s safe to say, they were very excited and convinced he liked me.

“Besides, he’s not my man!” I said while throwing the pen I picked up back at Carmen. “I mean, I wish, but he is so out of my league.”

“No one is out of your league, and I swear he’s into you. I saw the way he looked at you at the bar and at the crime scene. I have an eye for these things, trust me,” Carmen said and dodged the pen as well.

“Whatever,” I sighed. I spun around in my chair a few more times before an idea popped up in my head. “Guys, what if we set up an account on that dating app?”

“And then what? Meet with a creep? No thank you,” Gia said with a disgusting look on her face.

“I’m not a fan of that plan either. Please don’t do something like that Mel. Don’t do anything stupid. That could be very dangerous, and you know it,” Carmen agreed.

“It’s not like I’m actually going to meet him. I just want to see if I can figure out what profile he is using this time.” I stood up and looked out of the window. I oversaw the city, the sky was grey, and it was slightly raining. “Alright, fine. Can one of you give me something to do in that case? Otherwise I will make a dating profile.”

Later that day I laid in bed, trying to sleep. It was 1am and I had been trying to sleep for two hours, but I was still wide awake. I felt restless and didn’t know what I could do to fall asleep. I had tried to drink some tea, didn’t help. I watched an episode of The Office, didn’t help either. It also didn’t help Walter hadn’t texted me back for hours now. I wondered if he was already getting tired of me.

You know, I could, maybe, possible, just make an account on that dating app and swipe for a while. Maybe I would come across someone that matches the profile that the murderer would use. Gia and Carmen will probably kill me though.

I grabbed my phone. I hesitated for a second, but I downloaded the dating app. After I made an account and uploaded some cute selfies, I finally got to do some swiping. The most guys that came up were pretty basic. They didn’t spike my interest at all. They were the typical white boy, all with the same haircut and they looked like they did not only skip legday, also arm- and chestday. Half of them also posed proudly with a fish they had caught. As if that’s something girls like. Too bad none of these men look a little like Walter.

I also came across a few good looking, decent guys. I knew that was not what the police were looking for, so I swiped them to the left. The next profile was of a guy who was way too good looking. He also only had one picture. It was obviously that this picture was stolen from a model. The bio creeped me out a little. He said he liked to hike in nature, and he enjoyed the silence. You enjoy the silence? Are you trying to creep me out on purpose or what? I swiped him to the right. It was weird but I felt like this could be the one the police were looking for.

I swiped for a little while longer. Swiping a few sketchy looking profiles to the right until I felt my eyelids drop. Yawning, I put my phone aside and finally fell asleep.

The next morning my alarm woke me up. I stretched out after I turned the alarm off and grabbed my phone. There were a few messages, one of them was from Walter, but what spiked my interest was that I had a few matches on the dating app. I wanted to check it out, but I noticed I had to get out of bed and take a shower if I wanted to be at work on time.

After I had showered and got dressed, I grabbed my phone. The first message I opened was from Walter. He had texted me at 3am.

Walter: We were working late today, no breakthrough in the case. Missed texting with you, can I make it up by calling you tonight?

My heart skipped a few beats. He wanted to call? With me?! I stared at the message for a few seconds while I felt some butterflies flying around in my stomach. Okay, no need to freak out. He just wants to call, he is not proposing. Yet….

Melody: I missed texting with you too. And of course, you can call me tonight. I look forward to it.

Before I could overanalyse my response, I hit send. Take a deep breath Mel. No need to read into this too much. I checked my other messages and texted my mom and Gia back. My mom wanted to know how I was doing, and Gia needed an approval of her outfit of the day.

I walked to the kitchen and grabbed some milk and cereal. While I was eating my breakfast, I noticed the notifications from the dating app. There were a few new matches, and one of them had send a message. It was from the guy with the creepy profile. His name was John. Millions of people are named John, you could’ve at least been a bit more creative while choosing a name.

John: What do you say good looking? Let’s skip the talking stage and just meet up?

I shivered at the thought of meeting up with this guy, but he could be the one they’re looking for, right? I decided to just go to work and deal with it later.

The workday was slow and boring. I finished a few articles but spend most of my time gossiping with Gia about our favourite celebrities which annoyed Carmen at first, because she wanted to get some work done, but eventually she joined us. I also told them about Walter’s text from that morning. If I weren’t sure I already had a hearing problem from their screams before, I sure as hell would have one now. Those girls made sounds so high, I’m surprised the windows didn’t crack.

The rest day went by slow, and before I knew it the clock showed me it was 3pm. I had decided to not tell Gia and Carmen about the fact I downloaded the dating app and was considering meeting with ‘John’. I mean, I would inform Walter about it. I wasn’t a complete idiot. No need to stress those girls out. Why would I?

My phone buzzed and I picked it up. Another message from ‘John’.

John: What’s it going to be beautiful?

I thought about it, and what could go wrong? I would inform the police, aka Walter. Besides that, I can put up a fight. It’s not like I am a damsel in distress. Plus, the upside of being a little bigger; I’m harder to kidnap, you got to be pretty strong to even lift me up. I shrugged my shoulders and texted him back.

Melody: Sure.

Short, but clear. I looked around the office, Gia and Carmen both sat at their desks typing on their computers. They had no idea what I was doing. They would probably kill me, right here right now. Before I could change my mind about not telling them, my phone buzzed again.

John: Tonight, 7pm? A new bar just opened up, we could get a drink there.

The rest of the message contained the address of the place. I googled it before I answered. The website of the place popped up, and as I suspected, it was clearly a fake website. Bingo. I texted him back, saying I agreed with his plan.

The rest of the hours I had to spend at the office went by surprisingly quick. Soon people were starting to leave, and so were Gia, Carmen and me. We parted ways in the entrance hall, and I drove home. Once I was home, I looked in the fridge, and I came to the conclusion I had forgotten to do groceries. Again.

I wasn’t in the mood to order take out, so I quickly drove to the supermarket. Unfortunately, unlike last time, I didn’t ran into Walter. Shit, I still have to text him about my meeting with ‘John’. I’ll do it once I get back home.

I drove back home and started making dinner. After I ate dinner, and did the dishes, I looked at the clock. It was already 6.30pm and I had to leave soon. Glaring down at my outfit, I decided I wanted to wear something more comfortable. I went to my bedroom and stood in front of my closet. I grabbed an old pair of jeans and a simple long-sleeved black tee. No way I’m going to dress pretty for this guy. Wait, what if he actually is the guy from the picture? Nah, not gonna happen. Shit, I still need to text Walter.

I needed to hurry up and put the tee on. While putting on the jeans, I suddenly heard a sound I didn’t like to hear. I look down and saw the jeans have ripped in the area between my thighs. Thick thighs save lives? They sure as hell don’t save jeans. I thought while throwing them across the room. Quickly I grabbed another, old, pair of jeans and put it on. I put my shoes on and fixed my hair.

I ran into the living room again and grabbed my jacket. With my car keys and phone in one hand, I locked the door behind me with the other one and made my way to my car. 6.45pm, right on time. I started the car and drove off.

While I stood in front of a red light, I remembered I hadn’t texted Walter. Shit. Contemplating what to do, I decided to call him. He didn’t answer. Shit. I left a voicemail instead. The red light turned green and I continued driving. Once I had to stop in front of another red light, I decided to text him as well. I noticed how the streets around me became emptier and emptier.

The street where I was supposed to meet ‘John’ was dark and pretty empty. The sun was settling down, making it even darker. I parked my car at a parking lot and checked my phone. No response from Walter. Not yet at least. I was alone in the parking lot and decided to wait for a few minutes.

Alright, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe this was pretty dumb. And why did I forgot to text Walter. Why couldn’t I have done that sooner?! You know what, I’m just gonna go. This was dumb. And reckless.

But before I could start my car, someone opened my door. A man stood there, he was tall but not very muscular and he did not look like the profile picture at all. He looked at me with a creepy grin that made me regret doing this.

“Hello there, nice to meet you. I’m John and you must be Melody. Why don’t you step out of the car?” he said. I didn’t knew what to say, so I nodded and wanted to step out, but he spoke again. “Why don’t you leave that phone of yours here, we don’t need it do we?”

I knew I had to play by his rules. So, I left my phone and stepped out. He took the keys out of my hands and locked my car. I tried to keep thinking straight. Walter should be here soon, right?

John kept talking to me in the meanwhile. He kept telling me how pretty I was and how glad he was to meet with me. I stopped listening when I heard my phone go off in the car. Walter. If that is not him but my mom, I will do something to her.

“Come on, let’s get away from that car, shall we? The bar is right around the corner,” he spoke. We were the only people in the parking lot. I noticed he had parked his car a few feet away from me. Something was definitely not right.

“You know, I’m actually good here. Could you give me my car keys back though?” I asked. I knew he wouldn’t, but I had to stall. I really hoped the police would show up anytime now.

“Ah please? Just one drink?” He took a step closer to me and grabbed my wrist. I quickly twisted my wrist, releasing it from his grip. He looked at me with an unpleased look, and I suddenly felt a presence behind me. Never sneak up on me you dumbass. I thought as I felt the presence got closer.

Once I felt someone was right behind me, I didn’t waste another second. I took a step to the right and shoved my elbow straight into the guy’s nose with full force. He grunted in pain and when I looked behind me, I saw he grabbed his bloody nose with both his hands.

“Creepy Greg from finance?!” I say surprised. “Could have seen that one coming.”

“You bitch!” the guy in front of me yelled. He raised his fist and threw it at my face. Well, he attempted it. I dodged it and slammed my fist into his face instead.

“Sorry, that might leave a mark,” I smiled.

Creepy Greg from finance was still standing behind me, crying, and telling me I broke his nose and that I would pay for it. Make me.

I looked back at the other guy, and he swung his arms at me again, trying to hit me. I ducked to the side a few times, avoiding being hit. Sadly, I couldn’t escape all his attempts to hit me. His fist met the left side of my face. I felt my blood boiling from anger. I took a deep breath and raised my fists. While I was about to throw a punch, I heard loud noises. Cars. Thank God, they’re here.

Before I could comprehend what was going on, policemen were already running towards us. One tackled creepy Greg and a familiar figure tackled the other guy and threw a hard punch in his face. This is not supposed to turn me on. At all.

Walter got up and handed the guy over to another cop. The guy looked at me in disgust, but I didn’t see it. My eyes were focussed on Walter. He closed the gap between us by taking two passes.

“First of all, that was insanely stupid and dangerous and very dumb. This was reckless behaviour! But we will discuss this later,” he said vigorously.

“Yeah, I figured,” I said. I opened my mouth to continue speaking, but he spoke first.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he said with a concerned look in his blue eyes, and his hand caressed the cheek that had been hit. As his rough, calloused fingers touched my skin I felt a spark of electricity going down my spine. His other hand found its way to my waist, and he pulled me a little closer to him. His body radiated a welcoming warmth, and I smelled his familiar musky cologne.

“I’m fine, just got hit once. You should see creepy Greg’s nose,” I snickered.

“I did, and you sure know how to throw a punch,” he smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m glad you called and texted me. I’m sorry I missed the call. If I hadn’t missed it none of this would have happened.”

“No, don’t be sorry. This was a pretty stupid, reckless plan and I should have called sooner,” I quickly answered.

“It was indeed reckless and stupid,” he sighed. “Look, we need to take your statement. Why don’t I take you home after?”

“I’d like that, but my car is here,” I said while pointing at it. His hand left my cheek, but his other hand remained on my waist. He was so close to me, and I felt so comfortable despite what happened a few minutes prior.

“We’ll take care of that, don’t worry.” He grabbed my hand, interlaced his fingers with mine and guided me to one of his colleagues. My heart was racing and skipped a few beats at the same time. His hand felt warm and comforting. I never wanted to let go.

We reached his colleague and he started asking me questions and he squeezed my hand before letting go. He walked away to speak to some of his other colleagues and I immediately missed his hand, it felt like mine had fitted perfectly in his.

I told his colleague what happened, and I could see he thought it was really reckless, but I also saw in his eyes he was kind of impressed. He complimented me on how I stayed calm, but he did tell me to never do anything like this again.

Once he dismissed me, I looked around for Walter. I noticed him already walking towards me, and he offered me a little smile.

“So, Liam is going to take your car down to the station and I will drive you home, alright?”

“Thank you,” I smiled at him. “Can I get something from my car? My phone and keys are still in there.”

After we got my stuff out of the car, he pointed at a big truck. We walked towards it in silence, and he placed his hand on my lower back. Oh god, please keep that hand there forever. Okay, I might be incredibly touch starved.

Unfortunately, we reached the car too soon and his hand left my back to open the door for me. I climbed in and he closed it. He walked around the truck, took place behind the drivers’ wheel, and started the car. While he drove into the street he asked for my address.

We sat in silence next to each other, the radio softly hummed a rock song. I looked out of the window, it was dark and suddenly I realized that what I had done tonight, could have ended badly. Really badly.

“Hey, are you okay?” Walter put his hand on my thigh but when I looked at him, his hand shot up to my cheek to wipe a falling tear away.

“Yeah, yeah. Just realizing that this maybe wasn’t a smart thing to do,” I offered him a small smile. His hand left my cheek and found its way back to my thigh. The warmth coming from it spread throughout my entire body and I didn’t think twice and placed my hand on top of his. He turned his hand around and interlaced his fingers with mine for the second time that night.

He smiled at me and focussed on the road again. We were near my home, but I did not want to be alone now. Heck, I wanted to be near him. I didn’t want him to go. It felt so good to just be around him. I have never felt so comfortable around someone so quickly.

He parked the truck in front of my apartment building, not letting go of my hand.

“So, we’re here,” I mumbled. He grunted in response. We sat in the truck in silence for a few more minutes until it started to rain. I knew it was now or never, he was not going to offer going inside with me. Not after what happened. Perhaps he thought I wanted to be alone.

I felt anxious, but I decided to just ask it.

“Could you stay with me for a while?” I avoided looking at him, but he squeezed my hand and his other hand gently grabbed my chin, making me look into his eyes.

“Sure thing doll.”

•••

> chapter five

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[the-hidden-writer]

And Into The Fire

Chapter 1: A Phone Call

Summary:  Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she's seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it's up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

A Phone Call

It all started with a phone call.

6 months had passed since the “robot apocalypse”, and the world had fallen back into normality. In fact, since the robot apocalypse was so brief, it was now nothing more than a memory and a conversation topic to use as small talk. Things like “Where were you when the robots took you?” or “What did you do inside the fun pods?”. All in all, life had gone back to normal.

But not for the Mitchells. No, their lives were probably changed for good.

Katie had settled well into college. Now that she finally had her Dad’s approval, she felt free to have as much fun as she wanted without the burden of letting down her family. She regularly sent them updates of her work, and it made her insanely happy when she heard that Dad had made an effort to watch them fully, even if he didn’t quite understand them. That was okay though. It’s the thought that counts.

Back at home, things weren’t the same without Katie. Every time one of them stared too long at the empty chair at the table, it felt like a little stab to the heart. The Mitchells were a team, despite their differences, and one missing member was enough to knock their whole household off-kilter.

But they’d still managed to form a similar routine to their old one, just with one less Mitchell. Just Rick, Linda, Aaron, Monchi… and Eric and Deborahbot 5000.

The addition of the two childlike defective androids to their family was the biggest change of all. Once Pal was defeated and everyone was free, the pair had simply stood and looked confused in the midst of it all. The Mitchells (still high on adrenaline) had turned to leave when Eric called out:

“Mother! Wait!”

When he had the family’s attention, he continued. “Are you… satisfied?”

“Huh?” Rick voiced all of their confusion.

“Are you satisfied?” Eric repeated in the same, dry (but strangely uncertain) tone.

When nobody replied, Deborahbot had attempted to clarify. “Are you satisfied... with our performance?”

It was at that moment that a feeling of dread began brewing in Linda’s gut. She knew little to nothing about robots, and less about computer language, but something about the way the bots were speaking resonated with her. Katie had gone through a stage a few years earlier where she needed validation to stay confident but was too anxious to directly ask for it. She wasn't even sure if robots could have anxiety, but...

The fact that this seemingly unrelated memory had sprung to mind was enough for Linda to make her decision.

“They’re coming with us.” She stated firmly, and that was that. Rick had tried to protest but his argument was weak and, after taking one look at the bots that helped save the world, he couldn’t say no to their wobbly faces.

So Eric and Deborahbot came home with them and unofficially joined the Mitchell family. Luckily for the Mitchells themselves, the bots’ shenanigans were enough to help fill in the void left by Katie. The family had found their routine, they weren’t being hounded by the press anymore, and they’d found their new normal.

And then one ordinary day, the house phone rang.

Before Linda (the only human in the house at that moment) had time to react, two identical shouts of “Unknown number!” came in from the living room.

Eric and Deborahbot announcing the caller had been endearing at first. Each time any phone rang, they would happily shout the caller’s name straight away.

However after a few months of it, as much as Linda hated to admit it, it had gotten old and more than a little annoying. But the boys couldn’t help it and it brought them pleasure, so Linda had decided to let it slide for the time being.

Then when the phone rang after a particularly exhausting day and the bots had called out the name of a work colleague, Rick snapped. He yelled at the bots in what Linda thought was a very harsh way- so harsh that she was certain that they would be crying if they could display human emotions.

Rick had felt extremely guilty later that night and apologised (due to Linda’s nagging) in the morning. The bots immediately forgave him, but Linda noticed during the following week they would fall silent whenever Rick passed them or when the phone rang. To try and make up for it, she promised them that they could shout the caller’s name whenever Rick wasn’t home. They’d hugged her when she said that, and Linda felt like she’d done something right. It was a nice feeling.

“Mother! The phone is ringing!” Deborahbot called, snapping Linda back to the present. She’d been lost in her memories for a moment, so she quickly ran to answer the house phone.

(The bots weren’t allowed to answer the phone for obvious reasons.)

“Hello?” She answered, smiling when she noticed Eric and Deborahbot peeking their heads around the door to watch her.

“Hi, uh, is this the Mitchells?”

The voice on the other end was familiar, but Linda couldn’t quite put a name to it. Was it a parent from one of her school’s kids? No, because then why would they have her house number. Then who?

“Yes, this is Linda Mitchell. Sorry, who is this?”

“Uh, hey, it’s Mark Bowman.” So that’s where she recognised the voice. It belonged to the man whose face had been plastered all over the news and had narrowly avoided jail time for causing the robot apocalypse.

“What can I do for you, Dr Bowman?” She asked, trying not to let the sneer into her voice. She also tried not to notice the way Eric and Deborahbot visibly stiffened (an accomplishment for them) at the sound of the name.

“Right, um,” the man sounded oddly hesitant, “as you probably know, I’ve been going through a lot of official checks, to prove that the robots no longer pose a threat and stuff.”

His hesitance made sense then. He was probably being held at gunpoint by the CIA.

“Mhmm.” Linda nodded while simultaneously using her free hand to shoo her boys away. She didn’t know whether they could listen in to phone calls or not, but her instincts were telling her that they would not want to listen to whatever their creator was about to say.

“Well one of those checks includes making sure that all the Pal Max bots are permanently offline, you get what I’m saying?”

Linda wishes she didn’t. “Yeah.”

“Let’s just say that one took a while. Each bot has a unique serial number and was designed to send out a notification to Pal Labs if they got completely broken. And since there are like, millions of these things it took ages to sort them out, haha.”

“Understandable.” Said Linda pleasantly, although her motherly instincts were firing off the charts.

“So, uh, long story short there are two of these Pal MAX bots still missing. The rest have all been accounted for from these distress signals, but these ones seemed to have disconnected from Pal servers before the mass shutdown. Since they’re still online I’m guessing they’re defective.”

Linda felt a sudden, impulsive urge to kill Mark Bowman. This was not a first-time occurrence.

“So this is basically a super long way of asking if you’ve seen any rogue Pal MAX bots still online anywhere? Maybe back when you were saving the world?”

She had to resist the urge to hang up right then and there. Instead, she put on her sweetest teacher voice. There was truly no better way to mask her emotions.

“Hmm, no, sorry I don’t think we did.” She paused. “Even if we did, if the robots are defective then surely they can’t be that dangerous?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Bowman exclaimed suddenly before clearing his throat and composing himself. “But uh… these people wanna be thorough. Can’t risk another apocalypse, y’know?”

Linda was about to respond when she heard a strange beeping sound on the other end, accompanied by shuffling.

“Uh, thanks Mrs Mitchell sorry again about the apocalypse bye-”

She’d been hung up on before she had time to react to Dr Bowman’s words.

On the inside, she was glad that he hadn’t pressed further about the missing defective robots. She’d been half-expecting him to already know their whereabouts and for there to be a confrontation.

But there hadn’t, and he’d hung up, and something about the whole thing seemed off.

She began to formulate a plan in her mind. Firstly, her robo-boys’ safety was the top priority of the situation. Once Rick came home she could tell him about the phone call and they could think of protection methods more clearly.

All she knew for certain for the time being was that the bots wouldn’t be leaving the house for a while.

~-.-~

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

If the beeping wasn’t startling enough, the aggressive hand signals the agents were sending him caused him to panic.

He decided to hang up quickly. “Uh, thanks Mrs Mitchell sorry again about the apocalypse bye!” It probably sounded rude, but he really couldn’t care at this point.

“So…” he nervously began, looking up from the phone screen but not wanting to make eye contact with any of the agents. “Did you find anything?”

“The call was intercepted by two separate individuals.” One of the younger agents seated at a computer piped up.

Mark gulped.

“It seems as though we were right, Dr Bowman.” Said Agent Ward, the CIA woman who had first initiated the search for the missing Pal MAX bots. “They’re targeting the Mitchells.”

Taking a deep breath, Mark tried to calm his nerves. He’d lost almost everything in the span of a few months- a good chunk of his self-confidence included.

“Now what?" He asked. "You’re gonna warn them, right?”

“Find them yet, Travis?” Agent Ward asked another of the agents, ignoring Mark completely.

“Hey! You didn’t answer me!”

“We’ve managed to trace the interception to its sources, Ma’am.” The other agent replied, also ignoring Mark. “The coding here does look like Pal MAX, but we can’t actually access it. Since they’re online, the defences are strong. It would take a few days to get through the firewall even with Pal Labs resources, let alone commence a rewrite.”

The agents only turned their attention back to Mark when he snorted when trying to hold in a laugh.

“Of course it’d take ages,” he scoffed, “these are Pal bots. They’re designed to be pretty much impossible to be hacked by humans.”

“Well then,” Agent Ward towered over him intimidatingly, “you’d better get to work.”

Comments make my day! :)

#the mitchells vs the machines #tmvtm #fic #tmvtm eric #eric tmvtm #deborahbot 5000 #eric and deborahbot5000 #eric and deborahbot #linda mitchell #mark bowman #and into the fire

[rena-te]

I’m gonna throw some random thoughts/predictions about NEO at the wall. Mostly bc I’ve been thinking about this stuff for a while and need to shout into the void about it. (It will get into the Game’s Opening Sequence as well as any information that’s come out so far, just to mention it in case you were avoiding that content.) Join me for a lot of this down below the cut!

First of all, Tsugumi. In A.N.D we see her in a destroyed Shinjuku. Along with the visions of the future she gives Neku there are these messages.

“Everyone’s gone away..... All that’s left in the world is me.” (City being destroyed.)

“I can’t hear a thing...” (Tsugumi is walking the streets alone.)

“Hello? Is anybody there?” (Joshua shooting.)

“Somebody... Anybody... Can anybody hear me?” (Rhyme dying to (purple) shark noise.)

This last one isn’t a vision. It happens after Coco shoots Neku and he vanishes. Which leads me to think, since it is mostly a repeat of the first two future visions, it’s actually happening in this moment. It could be Tsugumi calling out one last time...... Before she’s overtaken by something?

“Too late... It’s all over...” (Same as first two. Tsugumi’s eyes notably turn red more than before.)

How is she giving Neku these visions? (It seems that she’s just calling out to anybody, and for some reason Neku heard her.) To send visions like that I’d think that Tsugumi is either Shinjuku’s Composer or maybe an angel? Or something else we’ve not seen? And they’re all visions of the future. Is Tsugumi speaking into the past as well as projecting those images? (We’re assuming that the reason for Shinjuku Reapers being in Shibuya is bc the UG in Shinjuku has been destroyed. So are the visions congruent with Shinjuku being destroyed or is the city being destroyed in the future, likely sometime between TWEWY and NEO?) The possibility of time travel makes things a million times more complicated.

Or maybe Tsugumi wasn’t quite sending him visions at all, and it was a kind of side effect of being linked to a Composer (since they are somewhat omniscient, and bc some of those visions were not really related to Tsugumi.) She was just trying to communicate with him, but some of that power leaked through their psychic bond and gave Neku a bit of clairvoyance?

If Shinjuku’s UG got destroyed, does that leave the Composer alive? We know that the Composer killing themselves would effectively shut down the UG, but if it happens the other way around? The Composer still exists, but would there be no consequence for losing an integral part of themselves? If the Composer’s connection to the UG is so pivotal, maybe the UG being gone is the reason why Tsugumi seems so...empty? (Is she so vacant that someone else is pulling the strings at this point?) It’s odd for Tsugumi to call out to Neku for help, but target him in NEO. (Given orders to target him.)

Also maybe the UG being destroyed but the Composer still existing explains Joshua’s....odd reaction to her? “How fortunate she managed to escape erasure.” Said when he was just in a position of wanting to kill himself in order to destroy his UG. He doesn’t use that sprite often ya know. It could explain the expression he has and the mumbled speech bubble used. Joshua said that he needed to get rid of His UG bc it could negatively tamper with the other grounds. To discover that could be done without killing himself... (And without him knowing of the apparent side effect of a “vacant Composer” Assuming that theory is true in the first place.)

But why does she have a Mr.Mew doll? Uhhhhh.... There’s also some time shenanigans happening too. And that throws many “what-ifs” into the mix, so I’ll avoid going down that rabbit hole. Basically I have no idea, the possibilities are kinda endless with time travel.

Another thing. This guy is also important. Very important apparently. I had a vague idea about him at first, a guess kinda outta left field, but I mean....I’m liking what bits I’ve scraped together for my guess theory by now. Onto speculating about Mr.Kubo here......

In the game’s opening sequence he walks right past Tsugumi (so connected to her in some way), leans in towards the camera, looks at you and does his little eccentric pose.

The only other characters who sorta look into the camera for the opening sequence are Shiba and Shoka, BUT in Shiba’s case it’s more like the camera is centered on him looking forward, and Shoka is more so interacting with Rindo with the way her scene was done. Here Kubo is just walking alone, stops and his eyes lock with the camera...... so wtf does this mean, you’re probably asking. It’s just a funky game introduction, it’s just this dude being weird. Yes, that is all true.

I know that he’s introduced in the line up as a Shinjuku Reaper, along with everyone else. But... I think this guy is Shinjuku’s Producer. If Tsugumi is Shinjuku’s Composer it makes sense for him to follow Her into Shibuya, he’s basically tasked to watch over Her.

Compared to the other Shinjuku Reapers, his color scheme is more...grey scaled. The girl has a grey suit, but Kubo doesn’t have any colors to his outfit at all. His clothes are plain compared to everyone else in this lineup. His facial expressions are the only...unique thing to his appearance. In the little bit of English dialogue we have of him so far, it seems that he’s giving us some kind of advice? And Fret looks to be put off with his eccentric (I can’t think of a more accurate word for it) demeanor.

So the middle aged man with an eccentric personality, with a tendency to give advice (?), pretending to be involved in the game in ways they are not, clothes styled in only neutral colors, and the funky little watch they’re wearing....along with the light poking at the fourth wall (Mr.H- “You mean those teasers?”) both Kubo and Hanekoma fit that bill.

Tbh Hanekoma is a bit eccentric, we’re just so used to how he is by now. The watch is just a minor thing that’s a fun little similarity in their designs don’t worry about it. Don’t tell me the watch isn’t important it ties everything together. Also after a quick goggle search, one website is telling me that Kubo’s name means “sunken ground” in Japanese and this other website is telling me what the individual kanji means, (I do not know Japanese in any way and am assuming that the internet is right about all this. I feel like it tracks with him being a Producer though.)

And just to cap it off, maybe Shiba was Shinjuku’s Conductor. If he rose through Shibuya’s ranks so quickly he’s gotta know what he’s doing. Did he throw Shinjuku out of balance and get rid of the UG so the Composer would be an empty puppet (like Tsugumi kinda seems to be.) Is that why he’s doing all this? Does he plan to become the Conductor (right hand man of the Composer) and then erase the UG, rendering it’s Composer vacant and take control? Shiba wouldn’t know about the Producer, naturally. Is that what it’s all culminating too? Will Joshua be in danger at some point from this guy? I’m wondering when the Higher Plane would step in, but this might just be Kubo’s job since Shiba was Shinjuku’s Conductor (and Hanekoma’s job, since it’s happening in Shibuya now) unless it gets completely out of control. They don’t seem to interfere much, just letting the assigned angels do the groundwork.

So that’s all my thoughts about stuff. I wouldn’t go into the game heavily expecting much of this though. As fun as theories are I’ll be fine enjoying the game for whatever happens. The world-building in twewy is just extremely fascinating to me and I love it so much. This is just my take on a “‘what if” situation anyways so nothing close to this may happen, hahaha. But speculation is very fun and I love to flex my twewy knowledge (it’s been next to useless for like 10 years. Finally twewy is relevant.

#neotwewy #neo the world ends with you #ntwewy #Neo twewy #twewy #the world ends with you #analysis #Neo predictions #I said there’d be PepeSilvia vibes to this #it feels like it makes sense- but it could also be a complete jumble of nothing #idk very fun to make the post though- relieved to get it outta my head a bit #Kubo #A New Day #tsugumi matsunae #Kubo twewy #Kubo neotwewy #mine #I’m glad I figured out how to do ‘readmore’s on mobile and with how long these posts have gotten I’m sure other ppl are glad too

[honeeb33]

Guess who wrote something again LMFAOOO tommyinnit once again causes me nothing but pain.

So imagine everyone grieving for tommy and a few days later they get a buzz from their communicator [TommyInnit was killed by Dream]. 

They assume it's a delay. A glitch. What else could it be? Aside from a joke from the universe that wants to remind them of what they've lost. Until it happens again. And again. 

[TommyInnit was killed by Dream]

[TommyInnit was killed by Dream]

[TommyInnit was killed by Dream]

More and more and more and then they're all scrambling to the prison as their communicator continues to buzz.

Sam checks the camera (and normally others wouldn't be allowed in the security room but how could he say no to Tubbo and Ranboo after everything (they hadn't even needed to plead))and it's just like it was. 

Dream in the cell with Tommy's bloody, beaten body but it's different. 

Tommy is in a different position and there are so many more bruises than Sam remembers and he can only stare as Tubbo sobs and Ranboo gasps and he realises they had never seen the body. 

But what could he say to that? It didn't used to be this bad? Sure, that was the truth. But Dream couldn't have been beating up a dead body and those messages on the communicator could only mean one thing but it was impossible, surely.

Then Dream looks up at the camera and instead of the far-away look he had the first time Sam had seen him with Tommy's body, there is a triumph on his face. As though he had performed a trick and it had gone perfectly, as though he knew that they were in here, watching him.

"Hey Sam." He says and there is an insane look in his eye but his voice is the calmest that Sam has ever heard it in the last few months. 

The camera goes static and a fear floods Sam as he frantically tries to get it back online, hyper focuses on the buzzing noises coming from the monitor mixed in with the not so silent tears from the two boys standing in the room with him. It's only roughly thirty seconds of static before the camera turns back on, but so much can change in such little time.

Dream has moved. He is holding Tommy's body- no, not his body. He is holding Tommy. A tight grip on the front of his shirt lifts the bruised teenager of the ground and Sam expects no resistance from the supposed corpse. Instead there is a scuffle, if only for a moment, and it brings tears to Sam's eyes, this impossible sight.

Ranboo bursts into tears behind him. Sam can faintly hear sizzling from where the water meets the ender-boys face.

Tommy's eyes are no longer dull, they are shining and Sam wants to howl in pain at the pure fear that he can glimpse in them. The boy cowers in Dream's presence and Sam makes a move to run towards the prison cell, to for fucking ONCE forget all protocol and just get TommyInnit out of there.

"Don't move."

Dream snarls, as though he can see exactly what Sam is preparing to do. Sam is frozen. He's the warden. He's meant to hold the power.

But as Tommy squirms and whimpers and begs and he can do nothing but watch, he knows he no longer holds any kind of power.

"Please." Tommy whispers, the first words that Sam has heard since he died. His voice is broken and Sam's heart breaks in return, shattering into a million tiny pieces. "I don't want to go back. Don't make me. Please, Dream. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He babbles now, begging, and Sam knows he would by crying if he had the tears. Yes, Tommy is alive, barely and dehydrated and broken, but alive and-

"Oh Tommy, you don't get a say in the matter." Dream coos, sickly sweet and he grabs the boy by the head and Sam can only watch as he- as Dream-

"Let's try this again. It's okay, Tom's. I'll bring you back, but you'll have to behave next time." 

Crack.

There's no one else there now. Not even time for Tommy to cry out. Just Dream, staring at the camera and Sam staring back through it.

He doesn't know where Tubbo and Ranboo have gone; whether they're still there and silent or whether they walked off before they could witness any of that horror. He can't bring himself to turn around and check.

There's a bloody mess on the wall and an even bloodier hole in Tommy's head. Dream clicks his tongue disdainfully and drops Tommy's corpse.

Again, Sam thinks, he drops the body again. But how many times had he done this? How many.

He didn't want to count the number of messages on the communicator.  It would have made him sick.

As though the laughter that quickly filled the air wasn't twisting his stomach, anyway.

"I'm a GOD, SAM!" Dream howls,  through his laughter, hands painted crimson with blood that didn't belong to him. "I'm fucking invincible! And I swear to everything you hold dear, I am going to ruin this stupid fucking server." 

His stiff pose softens and he reaches down and picks up the body below him, as though it weighs nothing. It probably doesn't. Tommy had been so light in life, after everything, death would have made him all the easier to pick up.

"And Tom's going to help me. Aren't you, buddy?"

Dream slides down the bloodied wall, cradling Tommy, the grip now gentle, with a hand running through the blond's hair. It makes Sam sick, the way Dream's smile turned soft, almost fond.

For a moment, Sam wants to pretend that Tommy was just sleeping, that Dream was the old version of himself, the one who cared for his friends and lightly teased the boy and not this broken, evil, cruel man who would end a boy's life again and again to serve his own purpose.

But the insanity in his eyes remains and a challenging look crosses his face as he stares up at the security camera and Sam fears for Tommy, perhaps more than he had ever done before. 

He couldn't escape Dream, even after death. None of them could. Sam could only mourn for the tragedy that was yet to end.

Tommy, Tommy, I'm so sorry.

#tommyinnit #dreamsmp #dream #awesamdad #awesamdude #tommy #dsmp #c!tommy #back to our regularly scheduled program! #[cue me gross sobbing for 2 hours abour c!tommy] #if u dont like tommy i get it but if any one of u mfs act like he deserved to die i will actually fight u #lmfaoo just say u dont like Tommy cuz he reminds u of the bits of urself to repress/dont like and GO #by tommy i mean c!tommy lol

[jesuisgourde]

gay/queer references in Peter’s journals

Again, I have probably missed stuff due to going through pretty quickly and also due to having stared at this document for so long, everything has kind of blurred together.

Sometime close to the day that Carlos & I watched 'Love And Death on Long Island' (and afterwards paraded through the tea rooms of Picadilly) we both filled in application forms and were tres excited to be invited to the same group 'interview' - twas more like an audition though. I got the part. Carlos never. This did not bring any animosity - we both know that success for either of us is magnified a million times if it is shared by us both.

from 'A Diamond Guitar' by Truman Capote "Except that they did not combine their bodies or think to do so, though such things were not unknown at the (Prison), they were as lovers. Of the seasons, spring is the most shattering: stalks thrusting through the earth's winter-stiffened crust, young leaves cracking out on old left-to-die branches, the falling asleep wind cruising through all the newborn green. And with Mr Schaeffer it was the same, a breaking up, a flexing of muscles that had hardened. It was late January. The friends were sitting on the steps of the sheep house, each with a cigarette in his hand. A moon thin and yellow as a piece of lemon rind curved above them, and under its light, threads of ground frost glistened like silver snail trails. Tico Feo had been drawn into himself - silent as a robber waiting in the shadows."

Then a meet with Bounds Green's African prince outside whitechapel tube, rugged lookies at I in military attire & to a ruptured Albion rooms tidied in hours and now lids drawn heated on the eyes. A young looking fella has a crush on me.

Jackie/Camillia/Marie/Kate/Chris/V. churchill Jackie/Evelina/Jasmine/Sachi/Dalston/Sussie Sandra/Carlene/FP/Jay/Dalston/Kraut

There sat a young black man, perhaps in his early or middle twenties. He looked for all the world like the archetypal rude boy. Clean, cheap reebok, nike, adidas variously rolled, laced & zipped about his lean, spreadeagled body that hung loosely about the waiting room chair. Gold & tattoos adorned his person, and a blank animal look was attached to his clear face. He sat before me in a row of four empty chairs, staring at polished floor or the mundane television. A balding white man minced in & all perceptions were suddenly proven to be false as they embraced and snuggled up to each other, giggling & whispering & touching each others noses.... very much in love, fingers crossed for the blood tests.

[Image: an article from Gay Times of an interview with Peter. For some reason, the portrait included alongside the article is of Carl wearing a grey and black t-shirt.] Name? Peter Doherty Age? 22 Where are you? I'm on the motorway just north of Southampton. What kind of day are you having? (Vaguely) Erm... quite misty. Something's waiting around the corner, but there are no corners on the motorway, so we'll just have to wait and see what lies ahead. Maybe something will happen tonight.... What's this we hear about you once being a rent boy? Well, when times are hard, duty calls. How long ago was it? When I was 19, about three years ago. How do we know this isn't just a Shaun Ryder-type lie? 'Cause if it was, it would make me a complete scumbag and I'm not, and I'm not interested in that kind of pantomime. It wasn't a very happy time. I didn't really enjoy it. Why did you give it up? (grimly) Well, certain people disappeared... and anyway, ultimately I found myself no longer in such a vulnerable position anymore. Dawn broke, and I realised that it was a beautiful world after all. Have you done any other dodgy jobs? All of us in the band have tried to deal, but it's not good if you like the drugs too much. You just end up using them yourself! I once was a gravedigger. I used to do it with my mate in Willesden Green cemetery. We didn't actually do the digging, a machine did that, but we used to have to fill them in. It was pretty grim work. So are you gay then? Love is love, wherever it comes from. I'm not anything, really. I am a very sexual person but... I dunno, I believe in liberty... The Marquis de Sade has a lot to answer for... Do you get a lot of gay fans? Yeah - well, there's one guy in particular. He's very shy and he follows us around. He brings in letters and cards and stuff, but he's very quiet. I think John (the bassist) is the main pulling power in the band. Are you jealous about that? Nah! I've known him too long.

You know I'm alright i dont even care i like it when they stare & stare call me queer, dear oh dear a million things & what I wear He's real hard when he's with his mates but I'll saw him again & he was too late

Dear NME I'd have thought after the Gay Times piece, the interview with Rapture fanzine & our recent gig at the Slum Club everything would be clear. No it still remains to give a big hearty fuck off to all these twisted suburban types calling me a liar. Vulnerable young men & women all over the world find themselves victims of circumstance.

she was dressed in suit & tie & lightly etched-on moustache. 'I've always wanted to kiss a bird in the back of a taxi.' she says, running her hand up the fishnet ladders of my thigh. Stepping onto the front line in Bow puddles, elevators, buzzing doors,

[Image: the original page in the book has been preserved. Two paragraphs have been boxed off with biro. They read:] “...cast Richard Burton and Rex Harrison as bickering queer barbers and then much more uncompromisingly in William Friedkin's adaptation of The Boys in the Band (1970), which introduced some of the plainer four letter words in the English language to the screen for the first time. 'Who,' asks Cliff Gorman, in his brilliant portrayal of the most effeminate of the homosexual group as they gather for a soul-searching party, 'Who do you have to fuck to get a drink around here?' Other homosexual manifestations to occur in movies around this time included an elliptical but unmistakeable male fellatio scene in John Schlesinger's Midnight Cowboy (1969) when Jon Voight, as a broke and disillusioned Texas stud importunes in a New York cinema....”

[Image, top left: a blurry photo of John onstage, playing bass. Image, top right, sideways: a photo of the band onstage. Carl and John are on the left, sharing a mic. Peter is on the right, playing guitar and singing into his own mic. Image, centre left: a torn photo of Peter sitting in a chair, shirtless, playing guitar. Only his bottom half from the chest down is visible. Image, centre left: a torn photo of Peter sitting in a chair, shirtless, playing guitar. Only his top half from shoulders up is visible. Image, bottom left: a torn fragment of a photo. What looks like a denim-clad knee and a yellow carrier bag are visible. Image, bottom middle: a photo of someone's knee in torn jeans, taken from under a table. Image, bottom right: a torn photo of Carl in a black sleeveless shirt, posing with his fingers in his mouth.] [A paragraph from the original page of the book has been left exposed and boxed off with black biro. It reads:] “The Boys in the Band was displaced by an immeasurably more powerful portrayal of homosexual groups, Fortune and Men's Eyes (1971). Set in a Quebec prison, this disturbing, factually based drama vividly recounted the corrupted of a heterosexual convict trapped in a tough, potentially vicious homosexual society. In one horrifying scene, a weak, put-upon prisoner is gang-banged by his fellow inmates; in another, the 'hero' is blackmailed by his cellmate into accepting him as his lover for the duration...”

Like a cat on a hot tin roof Like a macho man in a roomful of poofs I have tried in my way to be free.

[Written in Peter's handwriting] Jerome... is that how it's spelt? [Written in someone else's handwriting] Yes it is [Written in Peter's handwriting] Can I read you something? [Written in someone else's handwriting] Yes please.....

I insist, new book of Albion, befuddled by drugs I may yes about 2 but I do not miss out entirely on the subtleties of the inhuman relation ships that are this the mainstay of my stay here in one bounce of a loaf. Boys are fooled into fooling with boys. [...]

More general references/some extra explanations:

“The boy looked at Johnny” is a line from Patti Smith's song “Horses,” part one of a three-part song called “Land.” In the song, a young man named Johnny is assaulted by another man in a locker room; he then mentally journeys to other fantastical lands and visions. A lot of people interpret it as being about gay sex, although some people interpret it as being about a stabbing.

Peter quotes and references Jean Genet's writing and works about Jean Genet many times. While Genet's works are nearly all about crime and prison (one of Peter's main interests and points of fascination), all of his works are very explicitly gay. The Thief's Journal is more about Genet's various lovers than it is about his criminal history. Our Lady Of The Flowers is about a drag queen and her criminal lovers, and is also extremely erotic.

(“Jerome” is Jerome Alexandre, vocalist of The Deadcuts, who was friends with Peter and Mark Keds.)

#squash transcribes books of albion #peter doherty #feel free to request compilations of other kinds too

[averykedavra]

don’t fight me now (you might need me later)

Hey, remember how self-indulgent my last fic was? It has now been surpassed. Superheroes! Flirty superheroes! Enemies-to-lovers! Parentheses in the title! Anyway, might be the...angstiest thing I’ve written yet for this month, and also the longest, because I just love superheroes, okay? Oh, and I got some dialogue and general encouragement from @becca-becky! You’re the best, Becs! <3

(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! Title from Bloodsport by Raleigh Ritchie. Ao3.)

Prompt: Everyone is born with a super power, but when soulmates touch, their powers are nullified by each other.


Pairing: Romantic Roloceit.

Words: 10,884

Warnings: brief panic attack, violence, knives, blood, mentions of head trauma, discussions of death and murder, all three of them (Ro, Lo, and Jan) are kinda morally grey, food mention, falling, injury, anxiety, insecurity, scars, explosions

It was a lovely, peaceful day. The clouds clustered over the city streets and the cars trundled back and forth. The windows were wide open to catch the breeze, which smelled like smog and old pizza, but it was better than the usual static air that clung to the roads and the buildings. Most people in the city were at work, or strolling along the sidewalks, or setting up stands in the sprawling farmer’s market to the west. A ‘perfect’ day was probably unachievable, but Logan guessed this was pretty close.

That was why he was ninety-percent certain there would be an explosion.

The best viewpoint for witnessing such an event was high up. So he’d commandeered his usual rooftop, which belonged to what might have been a tax firm at some point. He wasn’t sure if it was technically legal to sit on this roof. But there was no way anyone could reach Logan without him seeing, and by this point, he was an expert at avoiding confrontation.

Besides, superheroes could do what they liked.

Logan hadn’t brought his phone. Phones tended to get destroyed in fights. Also, he didn’t want to be tracked--a remote possibility, but he had fought some technology-based villains in the past, and one could never be too cautious.

Still, as the afternoon droned on, he found himself wishing for it. Perhaps he could work on his taxes or read a book. This was ridiculously tedious. Why hadn’t anything happened yet?

It was on days like these that Logan wished for a sidekick, a partner, even an assistant on the ground. Doing his own surveillance was spotty at best and boring at worst. He was relatively sure he’d be able to see any activity from here, but if the Prince tried something new--

No, he was ridiculously predictable. Logan would almost think he wanted to be caught.

Logan squinted at the skyline. No signs of dust or clouds, no screams, only one ambulance that was careening out of the city towards the suburbs. Everything was calm and quiet, almost enough for Logan to believe that he was wrong, that his nemesis had taken a break.

If Logan had a partner--had anyone--he could do sweeps of the city. He could have a communication system, he could--

Logan shook himself. There were reasons he didn’t work with anyone else, and he’d gotten this far, hadn’t he? The most respected superhero in the city. Also the one with the lowest casualty count, although the fight with Amber Arrow had put a dent in that.

Sometimes, things just didn’t go perfectly.

Logan was still getting used to that.

He leaned over the edge of the building and craned his neck. He probably looked ridiculous. In costume, staring into the sky, legs dangling over the edge. He was also at risk of falling. Logan wasn’t afraid of heights--it would be hard to be, since he spent so much time in them, but once again, caution won out. He scooted back from the edge and ran a hand along the sunwarmed stone, listening to the thrum of engines.

“Come here often?”

Logan jerked, his hand coming up to his side. A young woman with shocking auburn hair and dark skin was strolling towards him, looking as if she was out for an afternoon walk. On top of a building.

Logan rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

“How rude!” she--he--gasped. “Do you always turn away citizens in need?”

“The only thing you need is a jail cell.”

“Rude,” Dee said again, sitting next to Logan and kicking his legs out. Logan turned away and did his best to ignore Dee. It was hard. Dee made it very difficult for anyone to ignore him, especially with that hair.

"How’d you recognize me, Lo?” Dee asked.

“You wanted me to,” Logan said shortly.

“I didn’t,” Dee said, smirking. That was a blatant lie. If Dee wanted to go undercover, Logan wouldn’t know who he was until Dee’s knives were in his back.

“Quite a look,” Logan remarked after a few moments of silence, when it became clear that Dee wasn’t going to leave. “Not very clandestine.”

“When I can look however I want, why settle for monotony?” Dee kicked his legs out and twirled a lock of hair. “Anyway, there’s no one to hide from up here, unless--” He pressed a hand to his mouth in mock shock. “Unless you would be so bold as to arrest me?”

Logan sighed. “I have bigger concerns at the moment. Besides, we’re at least tangentially on the same side.”

“Says who?”

“The media.”

“The media,” Dee repeated, smirking. “You’ve hated the media ever since they gave you that name, Lo.”

Logan huffed. He still, admittedly, was annoyed about that. Astrological, although a good pun in some ways, was nonetheless a pun. Besides, astrology was a ridiculous venture that besmirched the good name of science. Everything could be explained rationally--even soulmates, the usual argument of so-called astrologists. It was an evolutionary defect, nothing more and nothing less.

Astrological. Ridiculous. At least they often shortened it to Logic, which wasn’t so bad.

“You should talk,” Logan decided to say, because he was bored and a little bit irritated and needling at Dee was always a fun past-time. “Deceit.”

“I think it fits me,” Dee said smoothly. He said everything smoothly. He spoke without hesitation, but as if he’d already planned the whole conversation, answering questions he knew Logan would ask. It was unsettling. Dee was unsettling, with his sparkling eyes and shifting appearance and ability to get on a roof without being spotted.

“So,” Dee said idly, “what ‘bigger concerns’ are there for you today, Lo?”

“You know what concerns,” Logan said. “Why are you asking?”

“You’re no fun.” Dee crossed his arms and looked out over the city. The wind blew his hair about, a mass of curls, glinting in the pale sun. He was wearing his usual black outfit with yellow accents, and Logan knew all too well that several knives were locked within the stitches, ready to be unsheathed if Logan so much as breathed wrong. “Any sign of him?”

“You’d know,” Logan said again, aware that was the point, aware that Dee was stringing him along once again, but unable to stop himself. “You know everything, don’t you?”

“Comes with the territory.” Dee swung a hand over the edge and waved at the cars. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?”

Logan sighed. “I hoped if I didn’t, you would leave.”

“Ouch,” Dee drawled.

“Besides, I’m assuming it’s the same thing I am.” Logan gave Dee a quick glance before scouring the horizon again. No sign of him. “Why else would you be here?”

“I could be here to kill you.”

“Then why talk to me?”

“To make it entertaining.” Dee held out for a second longer before laughing. “I’m kidding. Of course I’m kidding. I have--what did you say--bigger concerns, darling.”

Logan shifted. “I’m glad you have some sense of justice.”

“I’m all justice, Lo, don’t you know me?” Dee gave him a wolfish smile. “Justice just looks a little different when it’s in my hands instead of a goody-two-shoes wannabe hero.”

“You’re still going after the villain.”

“Because he’s currently a bigger threat,” Dee said. “Rest assured, you’re as bad as each other, and when I’m done with him, you’re next.”

The threat should have made Logan angry, or terrified. But he had heard it a million times before. Dee wouldn’t kill him until the Prince was out of the picture, so for now, they were begrudging allies.

Logan shouldn’t let Dee even be that. Consorting with vigilantes was a terrible move, both morality-wise and safety-wise. Still, getting rid of Dee was like getting rid of a particularly clingy barnacle. Dee was here, for better or for worse, and the only way to get rid of him would be to fight him.

Logan wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

He was eighty-percent sure he’d win--he was powerful, and he’d gone out of his way to stay away from anyone who might be his soulmate, and Dee was growing more and more recognizable in his various disguises as Logan got to know him--but there was always that twenty percent.

And Logan knew, in his heart, that Dee would keep coming back. Dee couldn’t be confined by jails, normal or powered or otherwise. Dee could find his soulmate and he’d still manage to be a nuisance.

The only way to get rid of him, for good, would be to kill him.

Logan wasn’t ready for that.

Not yet.

“What’s on your mind?” Dee teased, bringing Logan back down to reality. He’d just zoned out with an enemy next to him--a foolish oversight on his part.

“How to get you to leave,” Logan said. “And if you’ll be interfering with the fight later.”

“What fight?” Dee asked. “Will there be a fight?”

Logan sighed and watched the buildings for a telltale red flash. “There’s always a fight.”

“Then yes,” Dee said. “Someone has to protect the innocent civilians.”

“So you won’t be on my side,” Logan said, rolling his eyes. “I should have figured.”

“I’m on my own side, Lo.” Dee shrugged. “If it’s any comfort, like I said, Princey is the priority.”

Logan paused and decided to dive head-first into an argument he’d posed many times before. “Have you ever considered--”

“Not being a vigilante,” Dee finished, rolling his eyes. “I know your opinion on this, Lo.”

“But if you would--”

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” Dee said, standing up. His hair flew around him, and the golden sun slipped over his skin, making him gleam in stark relief against the city. “Too much power runs unchecked, and you forget what it’s like without it. I’m just finding targets that need corralling, and I’m doing what needs doing.”

“And I’m a target?” Logan squared his shoulders. “Why, because I haven’t found my soulmate? Because I irritate you? The Prince is ten times as bad, why am I even on your list?”

“You’re as bad as each other,” Dee said, like he’d said a million times.

“Falsehood,” Logan said, like he’d said a million times.

He knew how this argument ended, and it hurt every time, and yet he always fell into it again. Logan was as predictable as the villains he fought, something Dee always pointed out. Everything was so predictable. Logan was a hero, he fought villains, and Dee was always there in the shadows to remind Logan of how fragile his pedestal was.

Logan could avoid everyone he knew to keep from touching his soulmate. Logan could fight every day and night until he was covered in bruises the next morning. Logan could win again and again, but one day, he was going to lose.

And Dee would be there, saying “I told you so.”

Dee would always be there, and Logan wished he could get rid of him, and wished Dee didn’t know exactly how to hurt him.

Logan braced himself for what he knew was coming.

“You’re both murderers,” Dee said, and if Logan didn’t know him as well as he did, he wouldn’t hear the steel in Dee’s voice. “Only difference is, Princey owns it.”

“You’re one to talk,” Logan said weakly, and at this point that jab should stop hurting.

Every time. Every time, it knocked the breath from Logan’s lungs. Logan curled his fingers around the edge of the roof, knowing Dee could see his discomfort and was reveling in it.

Every time. Logan should stop letting Dee get to him, but that would mean turning on Dee, and Logan wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

“It’s not murder,” Dee complained. “Not if they deserved it. It’s just...death by natural causes, if blades count as natural.”

“They don’t.” Logan sighed. “Besides, he--”

“Deserved it,” Dee finished, and for a second, the smirk was gone from his face. “You’ve told me.”

“You’re the one asking questions you know the answer to,” Logan said. “I don’t know why you think I’d say something different.”

“I don’t know.” Dee looked at the cars below. “Maybe I’m just holding out hope.”

Logan didn’t know what to say to that. He settled for giving Dee an annoyed look and returning to his vigil. The city was quiet. Logan found himself hoping that the Prince wouldn’t show up, and Logan could just sit here, not needing to fight anyone.

A foolish wish. He’d chosen this and there was no turning back now. If it wasn’t him protecting the city, who else would step up?

He felt Dee’s eyes on him. He definitely wasn’t leaving Dee unchecked--he shuddered to think of the systems Dee would topple if he wasn’t focused on taunting Logan.

Logan had sacrificed his life for this--his day job, his social life, the possibility of his soulmate. His best friend.

And maybe one day, he’d give up. Or lose. One of the two.

But not yet.

Logan’s eyes widened as a flash of red lit up the sky, followed by an explosion. Then came the screams, right on schedule. He really was predictable.

Despite himself, Logan found his mouth curving in a smile.

“There you are,” he said, pushing off the roof and letting the wind catch him.

He glanced back at the roof. Dee was already gone. Logan knew he’d be back soon enough--probably getting in the middle of things again, or skating on the edge of the fight, blades gleaming. Dee was tough to get rid of.

Still, Dee couldn’t fly.

So Logan would have a few glorious moments to himself, and he intended to make the most of them.

Ahead of him, the sky was lit up a bloody shade of red.

---

On days like this, Roman fervently wished real life had a soundtrack.

All of his evil plans were dramatic and fabulous and evil, but they’d be even more dramatic and fabulous and evil with a dramatic, fabulous, and evil accompaniment. He’d considered hiring a musician to play his theme song whenever he entered, but said musician would probably get killed by debris, and that would be kind of nasty. Roman didn’t like getting people killed unless it was absolutely necessary, or just easier on him.

So sadly, Roman was left soundtrack-less. He simply had to imagine it as he dashed through the debris, a smudge of pastel-pink ahead of him. He lifted a hand and crumbled the wall behind him, red lightning darting over the stones as it shuddered into place. No escape.

Heroes weren’t supposed to run, but this one was. Roman couldn’t blame them--he was extremely intimidating at all times. Also, they seemed like a younger one. Roman would have let them turn tail--they weren’t the real target here--but they might alert the police.

Although, most likely, the police had heard the explosion. It had been rather large.

Well. Never mind, then. Roman skidded to a stop. The hero glanced back and stopped, probably assuming he was plotting something devious. Roman gave them a lazy grin.

Their eyes widened and they stumbled backwards, raising a hand. Fire powers. Weak ones at that. Their hand glowed and they sent a beam towards Roman, who dodged easily.

“Come on now, run,” Roman said, shooing at them. “Go on. This doesn’t concern you.”

Another blast of fire, even weaker than the first. Roman watched it curl into nothingness. He winced as they stumbled--they’d already overtaxed themselves? Roman almost felt bad for them.

“Are you going to leave?” Roman asked slowly.

A third blast of fire. The hero was trembling, but no, they weren’t.

Roman really wanted to let them go. He didn’t care about some newbie with a flashy pink costume. Besides, he’d been there, a long time ago. Just on the opposite side.

Then again, if word got around that he’d gone soft, he’d be the one trapped in a burning building.

Roman flicked his fingers.

A section of ceiling slammed into them and sent them collapsing to the ground. Their head hit the floor with a crack and the fire died in their hand.

Roman winced in sympathy. Roofs being dropped on one’s head were never fun.

They’d be fine. Probably. Maybe.

Either way, it wasn’t Roman’s problem.

Roman paused to cough--why did buildings have to be so smoky when they exploded--and muscled his way between gaping pipes and crumbled piles of building. He probably could have done this without an explosion, if he really tried. However, explosions were dramatic. And they erased like five steps from the enter-a-building-and-rob-it list. Enter the building? Very easy when there was no longer a door, or a front wall, or a ceiling.

Now he just had to rob it.

He’d been studying the blueprints. Well, he’d glanced at them while eating a donut. But everything looked different when he was on the ground, and several walls seemed to have changed places in the explosion. Whoops. Maybe if he just went in the general direction of the center of the building, he’d find the safes?

Maybe.

He didn’t even know what he was supposed to be getting, of course. It was best to avoid asking questions and just get the job done. While making it look like this was entirely his idea, of course.

Because it was! Totally. He cared so much about...whatever it was that he was stealing.

Hey, it was steal one thing every few weeks or work for them full-time, and Roman didn’t really like being a team player.

And this meant he got to have some fun.

Speaking of which...

Roman spun on his heel, squinting through the dust. He levitated a pipe next to him and sent it flying into the clouds, lighting its way. It hit a brick wall and fell to the ground. He was alone, for now.

Boo. It was never any fun until his esteemed nemesis showed up.

Roman dragged his feet down the hallway, listening for the telltale whoosh of air. Logic thought he was all sneaky, but Roman could always hear him coming. Not that Roman could judge. His powers were definitely flashy.

Awesome, though.

Roman lifted a stone and punched through the wall, stepping through the gash it left behind. He grinned. Definitely awesome.

Top that, Logic, he thought--

And there came the whoosh.

Roman should have known insulting the guy, even in his head, would be enough to get him here.

A pipe came sailing through the air, fast as a bullet. Roman threw out his hand and stopped it. Lightning sunk into the metal and burned it apart, bit by bit. It fell into a pile at Roman’s feet.

Roman turned around and gave his nemesis a dazzling smile. “You’ll have to try harder than that, villain.”

Logic rolled his eyes, the only part of his body that Roman could see. “Don’t call me that,” he complained, like always.

“Why not?” Roman teased, sticking one hand behind him and levitating a chunk of rock. It wouldn’t fool Logic, but it was still worth a shot. “You’re my foil, my enemy, my esteemed nemesis--”

“So I’ve heard.” Logic ducked as a piece of roof crashed to the ground. The whole building was little more than a burned-out shell at this point, and if Roman wanted, he could tear the whole thing down with one hand.

It was fun, though, to drag things out.

“We meet again,” Roman announced, puffing up his chest. “Who, tonight, shall be the victor?”

“It’s afternoon,” Logic said.

“It’s a figurative night,” Roman ad-libbed on the spot, because he wasn’t about to admit that he’d forgotten it was still afternoon. “The night of this city as hope dims and integrity is destroyed, piece by piece.”

“Mm-hmm.” Logic nodded. “Integrity. The integrity of destroying government property, for instance.”

“You get it!” Roman snapped his fingers and grinned. “There’s hope for you after all.”

“It was sarcasm,” Logic muttered.

“I rescind my previous statement.”

Logic rolled his eyes again. He did that a lot. Maybe because it was the only way he could communicate, since his whole face was covered. “Are you done, or--”

“Not even close!” Roman exclaimed. “Villain, I have much more to say!”

He didn’t, of course, but he had four or five backup speeches memorized, and he could just pick and choose from those!

“Go ahead, then.” Logic raised an eyebrow. Roman grinned. Logic was bound to listen to him out of common courtesy--a superhero needed to hear a villain out, after all, and figure out if they could be redeemed.

Roman couldn’t and wouldn’t be redeemed. But Logic always followed the rules, so Logic would listen anyway, pretending he cared what Roman had to say.

Hey, Roman didn’t mind a captive audience.

“Now, my dear villain,” Roman said, enjoying the way Logic’s face twitched. “I shall tell you my reasons for robbing the city bank--”

Logic blinked. “This isn’t the city bank.”

“What? Yes it--”

“No, the bank was last week.” Logic pointed at the roof that was nothing but a patch of smoky sky, raining plaster and dripping dust. “This is a government building.”

“Wh--” Roman mentally rewound the past week or so. “Oh yeah! Sorry, I got my scripts all messed up, gimme a sec--”

Logic somehow managed to look even more annoyed. “Oh, by all means, take your time.”

Roman nodded and shuffled his speeches around in his head. He practiced most of them in the mirror, but it was one thing to belt them out in the early morning, and yet another to remember them when in a smoky building, facing down his nemesis.

"I’ll take you down,” Roman finally said. Simple and a little boring, but it would hopefully do the trick.

“Will you?” Logic stepped forward, and a glint rose in his eyes. “Is that a challenge?”

“Attack me anyway,” Roman dared him.

“There are rules.”

“A villain like you has no need for rules,” Roman said, just because it would annoy Logic. The guy wasn’t actually a villain. He was the most heroic person Roman had ever met.

Which made him really freaking boring.

And made him a good challenge.

Roman waved at Logic, who hadn’t taken another step. Nothing new, but Roman figured that one day, he’d break. Roman was well-practiced at being annoying, and if he could annoy someone into villainy, that’d be the best thing to put on his resumé.

“Attack me,” Roman said.

“Are you challenging me?” Logic asked, every word clearly enunciated. As if he was making sure the microphones caught his oh-so-heroic restraint. Seriously, couldn’t Roman’s nemesis take a break once in a while? Let down his hair? Do some murder? It’d probably be good for him.

Roman took a deep breath and held up his hands.

“Yes,” he said.

The word was barely out of his mouth before Logic was on him, a gust of wind sweeping Roman up and sending him flying towards the wall.

Roman twisted around and kicked off the wall. He waved a hand. Several tons of drywall tore themselves away from the building and lunged at Logic. Logic dove out of the way just in time. They slammed into the ground and lightning spasmed, painting the whole scene blood-red.

Logic flew at him. Roman caught a glimpse of metal as Logic’s sword slipped into his hand. Three feet. Two inches across. Roman knew that sword way too well.

Logic slashed at Roman’s stomach. Roman dipped out of the way and threw out a hand, twisting Logic’s wrist. Logic barely flinched.

A gust of wind met Roman.

Roman stumbled backward. He threw up a wall in front of him and caught his breath.

Logic vaulted over the wall and landed, swords gleaming. Roman had to hand it to him--he looked good, like this, mid-fight. Eyes practically glowing, dark hair cropped close, and suit snug in all the right ways. Plus the sword, and Roman was weak for swords, this was unfair--

Said sword swung at his head. Roman was uncomfortably reminded that they were currently trying to kill each other. He put the gay on hold and pulled up a few projectiles, sparking crimson and flying at Logic. Logic cut the first in half and blasted the rest away with a gust of wind.

Logic could do more than this. But he was probably afraid of the building collapsing around them.

The smart thing would be to use this to Roman’s advantage.

But Roman liked watching Logan push his limits.

Roman rolled through a gap in the wall. He climbed a crumbling chimney to the roof and ran down a somewhat-intact section. He was several stories above ground. Cars squealed below him, skidding around the rubble. The police were already massed at the parking lot. A helicopter looped them and Roman threw a hand at it without thinking. It careened towards the bay, barely missing the bridge and coming to an unsteady stop somewhere by the docks. Roman smirked.

The ring of sword against stone made Roman turn around. Logic had stabbed his sword into the roof, dangling from it. He swayed left and kicked up, pulling himself to the roof. A quick roll, and he was upright, leveling his sword at Roman.

“It’s over,” Logic said.

“No, it’s not,” Roman said, because if Logic was going to be cliche, so was Roman. “We’re just getting started, villain.”

“You know, Princey,” said a new voice, “for once, you make a good point.”

Roman looked over at the edge of the roof. A man with bleach-blond hair and deep green eyes was swinging knives from his hands, smirking.

“Oh, great,” Roman complained. “You again.”

“Come on!” The smirk turned to a pout. “Why does everyone recognize me today?”

“It’s just the vibe,” Roman said, waving a hand at Deceit. “All sneaky and snaky. You’re a reptilian rapscallion in whatever shape you take.”

“You wound me,” Deceit said idly, strolling over and giving Logic a little wave. Logic glared back.

“Also,” Logic pointed out, his words clipped, “you are carrying your knives.”

“Oh.” Deceit shrugged and slipped into a fighting stance. “I suppose I just got overeager.”

“For what, defeat?” Roman waved a hand. “This is a private fight, so unless you’re going to help me murder my nemesis, please skedaddle.”

“I could,” Deceit said, looking over at Logic. “He is a prick.”

“I know, right?”

Logic sighed. “Dee, enough kidding around.”

“But that’s half the fun of this job!” Deceit rolled his eyes and turned to Roman.

Roman barely stepped back before Deceit was there, knives slashing centimeters from Roman’s chest. He stopped one in midair, lightning running up and down the length. Before Deceit could tug it free, Roman kicked Deceit in the chest and ran.

There wasn’t anywhere to run, though. They were standing on the last section of roof, and it shook beneath Roman’s feet. He tried to stabilize it, but there were too many moving parts, so he settled for lodging a pillar under it.

Deceit stumbled to his feet again. And he was running again, knives out. Logic was on Roman’s left, a tornado brewing in his hands--there, there was the stuff Roman enjoyed, just not when he was on top of a collapsing building. Roman threw himself sideways as a blast of wind sent him flying. He grabbed the edge of the roof and swung himself back on top.

Logic on one side, Deceit on the other.

Well, only one of them was out to kill him, right? So easy choice.

Roman lunged at Logic, rocks sharpening themselves as they flew, headed for his heart. He knew Logic could get rid of those easily, but he had no energy for anything else. He was listening to the building beneath him as it creaked and shuddered.

He was never using an explosion again.

Somewhere down there was what he needed, he knew that. He could do his job and hopefully get everyone off his back, or he could make a break for it.

Or he could fight. Again. He could throw all his cards on the table and enjoy the feeling, the brief feeling, of being on top of the world.

Roman felt power thrum through his fingertips and smiled.

The roof ruptured. A chasm grew between him and the other two. Deceit backed away, hands on his knives like he could fight a collapsing building. Logic took a running leap and landed on Roman’s side, feet from him. His eyes were narrowed. Wind blew around his feet, a hurricane waiting to be unleashed.

Roman had never seen Logic use all of his power. One day, he hoped to be lucky enough to see it.

He’d probably be on the receiving end, of course, but it would still be fun to witness. To know, for an instant, that he was the one who made Logic lose control.

Someday, but apparently, not yet.

Logic lunged at Roman and Roman dodged, grabbing his arm and tugging Logic forward. They were inches from the edge of the roof. Below, cars milled about and people yelled at each other. It was a long way down.

Deceit still paced back and forth, watching them with shifty green eyes. He was making no effort to follow them. Roman didn’t blame him. The building was falling apart around them. Roman’s powers sparked weakly in the corners, but the lightning faded, leaving nothing but the bright golden glow of late afternoon.

The sun was setting between the buildings, making windows catch fire and the sky deepen in hue. Clouds, tinged with gold and pink and silver, drifted above. Below, the alleyways of the city were already cool and shadowed. It would be a long night, and doubtless Logic would be in the thick of it.

Sometimes Roman worried that Logic would get hurt. Or killed. That was unacceptable--the only person allowed to kill Logic was Roman.

And the only person allowed to kill Roman was Logic.

It would be one or the other, and Roman had known that from day one, and he still kept coming back. Because--why? Because he didn’t have anything else to do with his life? Because Logic was fun and sarcastic and kind of a snack? Because Roman always itched for a fight, a spectacle, a chance to show off? What was the use of power if he didn’t show it, if he didn’t use it to bend the world to his will, to claw his way to the top of the heap?

What was the use of power if he let it go, for the sake of true love, of mercy?

What was the use of power if he didn’t use it?

Logic wouldn’t get it, of course. Even now, balanced on the edge of the roof, Logic wasn’t even trying to push him off it. Wasn’t even trying to tear him into pieces, rob him of breath, pull the clouds around them into a tempest. Logic could do so many things, Roman could feel it, and yet he contented himself with this. Cheap masquerades and flimsy heroics and rules that only hurt him.

That’s why Roman was the bad guy. He had never played well with rules, and being a hero had never been his calling.

Besides, everyone loved the villain.

“Compromising position,” Roman said as Logan placed the sword under his chin. The blade was cool against Roman’s throat. Logan’s eyes were cooler--cold, the same intense cold he always got when he was too wrapped up in a fight. Roman would be lying if it wasn’t kind of terrifying, in the best way possible.

The sword got a bit too close to some sensitive veins. Roman stepped back, except there wasn’t a back to step to. His foot skidded on open air. His eyes widened and he scrambled for purchase.

Logic’s hand whipped out and grabbed Roman’s sash. Wind whipped around Roman and kept him still, half-fallen off the side of the building. The road hummed below them.

Logic pulled Roman closer, sword sneaking around to cup the back of Roman’s neck.

“You saved me,” Roman teased. “Knew you couldn’t resist my dashing looks--”

“Surrender,” Logic said.

“All business with you, isn’t it?” Roman wriggled closer to the open air and enjoyed the wind that cupped his waist and shoulders. It was like a cushion. He’d never had Logic hold him up before.

“Surrender,” Logic repeated.

“Or what?” Roman asked.

Logic blinked a few times, and Roman could tell he hadn’t thought of that part.

“Or what?” Roman repeated, grabbing Logic’s waist and tugging him further over. “You’ll kill me?”

Logic’s eyes hardened. “Maybe.”

Roman gasped. “What? Really? How could you possibly justify such an atrocious action?”

“You’re a villain.”

“Really?” Roman pulled Logic even closer, reveling in the fact that Logic was letting him. “And here I thought I was your hero.”

“You’re no one’s hero but your own, I’m afraid.” Logic took a step forward of his own. Roman lifted himself up on his tiptoes and leaned out even more. They were practically horizontal at this point. Logic’s sword dug into Roman’s neck, colder than the air around them. Deceit was nowhere to be seen--he was missing out, Roman thought idly, though on what he wasn’t really sure.

“I could drop you,” Logic warned, flexing his fingers on Roman’s sash.

“Then do it.”

“What?”

“Do it,” Roman said, grinning. “Drop me.”

Logic’s eyes widened, just for a second, and Roman counted that as victory.

“Drop me,” Roman repeated. “Go ahead, let go.”

“I could,” Logic said, unconvincingly.

“You could do a lot of things.” Roman pulled himself so close to Logic that he could make out every fleck in his eyes. “You won’t, though, will you?”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough. It’s been too long for me not to.”

“You don’t--” Logic’s hand fisted on Roman’s sash. The winds sliced at Roman’s skin. “I could.”

“Then do it.” Roman grinned wider. “Surprise me. God knows I could use the excitement.”

“I could drop you right now and--”

“Do it!” Roman started to laugh. “Do it, then! Stop talking yourself in a circle and actually drop me, villain, without catching me halfway down. Stop being a hero and just drop me, I dare you.”

Logic looked away.

“Thought so.” Roman reached up and ran a hand along the line of Logic’s mask, the only strip of skin Roman could see. “You’re really predictable, you know that?”

Logic’s eyes widened.

The air around them thudded back to normal. Normal, cool, and not solid at all. Just a slice of late evening sky, far above the pavement.

And gravity hit.

And Roman’s sash tore across the center, leaving Logic grasping a piece of red fabric.

And Roman fell.

And Logic reached for him, and Roman reached for his own power, and nothing came. He was empty and powerless and cold in the wind.

Roman fell, and the last thing he saw was Logic slipping off the edge.

---

Janus was used to fights. Breaking up fights, when they were normal scuffles, just fists against fists. Joining fights, when there were powers involved, and he needed to minimize civilian casualties. Ending fights, usually by incapacitating one or both of the people involved.

Starting fights? He never started fights. He just finished them.

Janus had fought a million people, and yet, Logic and Princey intrigued him.

Perhaps that’s why he kept coming to try and kill them.

He could have stayed home today. Or he could have started attacking that corrupt firm up north, or patrolled the streets. He didn’t have to babysit these two idiots again, and he knew as well as anyone that he couldn’t kill them yet.

Still, he’d come here, and he told himself it was out of duty, but Janus couldn’t lie to himself.

He didn’t figure he’d regret it.

Now? He did.

They’d just fallen off the roof.

The two of them had been sparring, exchanging blows and flirting, and being as ridiculously gay as they usually were. Everything had seemed in-control, so Janus had slipped down to the street below, shepherding the people away from the rubble.

Then they’d fallen.

If he hadn’t seen it himself, he wouldn’t have believed it.

See, the little problem with this event was that Logic could fly. And although Logic might be a little too ruthless for his own good, he would never drop Princey. For all of his talk about justice, Logic was weak for that villain. Janus could tell.

Yet they’d fallen nonetheless. They’d plummeted out of the sky and hit the pavement with a sickening thunk.

A fall from that height could have killed them both.

Janus didn’t hesitate. He ran over to them.

He scrabbled for purchase on the rubble. Dust coated his legs and his blades. People were running over, the medics, the police--oh, come on. This was going to be a media fiasco in a few seconds, especially if they were really dead. Janus should get out of here now.

With a thought, he lengthened his hair and dyed the tips blue, giving himself an upturned nose and tons of freckles. It wouldn’t fool anyone who knew vigilantes, but it would buy him a few seconds of anonymity, which was more than enough for Janus’ needs.

He vaulted over a crumbled wall and knelt in the little crater they’d left behind. Both were covered in dust. Blood dripped from Princey’s eyes, his mask askew, his sash shredded. Logic’s head lolled on the rock, his dark hair whitened by the plaster, his extended hand clutching a piece of red fabric.

It hit Janus, very suddenly, that this was real. Unless a villain with illusion powers had appeared, they were right here. Dead, or nearly. Lying at his feet as if he’d killed them himself, with the knives in his hands, like he’d tried to a million times.

It must have been the dust that choked him up.

Janus walked over on trembling feet. “Hey,” he managed, “don’t go dying on me now, I won’t have a chance to kill you.”

Princey shifted. “Rude,” he mumbled, hand coming up to wipe at his mouth.

A strange emotion ricocheted through Janus. He kept his face neutral and raised his knives.

“Oh, come on,” Princey complained, focusing on Janus. “Gimme a second to get up, why don’t you? It’s undignified to die lying down.”

Janus looked down at his knives and back at Princey. It would be so easy, just a slash--

Princey pulled himself up, blood smearing on his skin as he sat upright. He breathed heavily for a few seconds, but when he looked up, his eyes were clearer.

“Where’s--”

Janus inclined his head in Logic’s direction.

Princey turned and swore. Logic was still lying there, a shift of the rubble by his chest the only indication of his breathing. His arm lay across his chest.

Princey poked at him and he shifted a bit, but his eyes remained closed.

“Hey. Hey, villain. Hey.” Princey poked him again. “Get up. Hey.”

“Yes, keep needling him, he can totally hear you.” Janus stepped forward. “Can you move aside so--”

“Don’t kill him!” Princey burst out. He blinked, seeming as surprised by the outburst as Janus was. But he recovered himself quickly. “I want to kill him.”

“Then do it,” Janus said.

“Not now.” Princey groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. “Right now I’m heading home and patching myself up. I feel like--”

“Like you fell off a roof,” Janus finished. “I wonder why.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Princey looked at Logic again. “Did he--drop me?”

“I’m assuming,” Janus said, although the words felt oily on his tongue. “What else could have happened?”

“But he grabbed for me,” Princey said, his voice distant. “He tried to--”

Janus stared at Logic’s broken form on the rocks.

None of this made sense. Janus wanted answers. He wanted someone to stab, perhaps several someones. Instead, he had an unconscious “hero” and an injured “villain” and medical personnel already clambering over the rubble towards them.

It would be so easy to kill them.

Well, he couldn’t do it in plain sight like this, could he?

“We need to get out,” Janus said, walking closer to Logic. He knelt down and checked Logic’s pulse. Steady but weak. Logic’s skin was cold beneath his own, and Janus suddenly felt unsteady, as if his skin was peeling away.

“I can--” Princey turned to the approaching people and raised a hand. Nothing happened. “Ugh. I guess I’m out of juice or something.”

“Imagine, not being at your best after falling off a building,” Janus pointed out. He looked around. “Can you walk?”

“Yes?” Princey took a step and immediately tripped. “Maybe. Sort of.”

Janus sighed. “That will have to be good enough. We’re going to head somewhere quiet, dark, and preferably empty. Perhaps a nearby alley.”

“Why?” Princey asked. “You planning to kill us?”

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

Princey shrugged. “Guess I will.”

Without hesitation, he started to climb the rocks around them. Janus stared after him, wondering if Princey was usually this brazen towards possible death, or if the fall had given him a concussion. Or, even more terrifying, Princey didn’t view Janus as a threat.

This was good, of course. It made things easier on Janus in the end. He could just drag the two of them into an alley, make quick work of them, and leave in yet another face--

Janus pressed his lips together. Princey was grinning at him from the top of the rubble, waving at him to come along.

Janus kneeled and slipped one hand under Logic’s shoulders and the other under his knees. He leaned back and pulled Logic into his arms.

Logic was...light. Lighter than Janus had expected. His head lolled against Janus’ shoulder and his hair fluttered with his breathing. His mask was slipping, exposing the bridge of his nose. Janus shifted him around until he felt somewhat secure that Logic wouldn’t fall out and crack his head, then levered his way to his feet.

Princey was staring at him. Janus gave him a cool glare, hoping he would leave it and not ask questions.

“Question,” Princey said anyway, because Princey lived to make Janus’ life miserable.

“I don’t care,” Janus snapped, walking towards Princey with Logic in his arms. It was slow going, and Janus’ feet skidded on the pebbles and bits of concrete. He probably looked ridiculous, in blue hair and his black uniform, carrying the city’s favorite “hero.”

“Question,” Princey repeated. “Why are you--”

“I need to get him out of here before the people come,” Janus said. “And he’s not exactly in any shape to walk.”

“Huh.” Princey had a weird look on his face. “His mask is slipping.”

“Even more?” Janus looked down. Yes, he could see the pink blush of lips. He quickly pulled it back up until it was the usual eye window. He brushed his hands over Logan’s forehead and felt dirt and blood under his fingers.

“You just--” Princey placed a hand on his own mask. “Why didn’t you--you could have figured out our secret identities!”

Janus scoffed, finally making it up to where Princey was. “I do have morals.”

“And here I thought you were a kindred spirit.”

Janus smirked and didn’t say that quite honestly, he could have tracked down their real identities years ago.

It made it easy to kill people when they didn’t feel like people.

Princey stumbled down the other side of the rubble and Janus followed. Logic mumbled something and shifted, and Janus tightened his grip. Logic mumbled something else.

“Stop it,” Janus told him. “No moving or I drop you.”

Logic, predictably, didn’t respond.

“Everyone’s staring,” Princey said as they crossed the rubble, heading for the only intact street nearby.

“It’s fine,” Janus said. “I’m in disguise.”

“I was more worried about me,” Princey said.

“Well, good luck, then.”

“Hey!” Princey gasped and placed a hand on his chest. “And for your information, having brown hair and a scar does not make you entirely incognito, oh devious one.”

Janus smirked. “Of course it does, it--” 

His chest went cold.

He hadn’t given himself brown hair. And he’d never--

Janus’ hand came up to touch his face. A familiar ridge met his fingers, dipping from his eye and knotting next to his mouth. He knew its path way too well.

He looked down at Logic, at the bare strips of skin where his uniform rode up, touching Janus’ own.

They’d never touched before, had they?

“Deceit?” Princey asked, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you--”

“Fine,” Janus snapped. “I’m fine.”

“You look--” Princey pointed at Janus’ face, Janus’ hands, and just the entirety of Janus. “Nervous.”

Nervous was just a bit of an understatement, wasn’t it?

Janus was exposed. He was laid bare in the afternoon sun. Princey hadn’t made any comments about the scar, but that’s because Princey thought this was just another disguise, another face Janus wore to get what he wanted.

He’d never gotten what he wanted in this face, and he’d hoped dearly to never wear it again.

He rubbed at the line of his scar, unable to stop himself.

“Deceit?” Princey asked again, and if Janus didn’t know better, he’d swear there was a tinge of worry in his tone.

Janus looked down at Logic, still unconscious in his arms, cape torn to shreds and that familiar black-and-blue costume rubbing against Janus’ fingerless gloves.

He had more important things to worry about at the moment.

“Hurry up,” Janus said, leading Princey out of the rubble.

They walked to the edge of the parking lot and stepped onto the road. Cars careened around them and people clustered at the edge. Janus had guessed that nobody would bother them, and he was right--they made it to the nearest alleyway with no further incident.

It smelled like rubbish. Janus wrinkled his nose and padded down it, Princey just a step behind him. The apartments careened into the air on either side, windows ashy, fire escapes coiling up and down the bricks like snakes. Janus kept to the shadows automatically, and as he crept between the buildings, he almost felt normal--like this was just another patrol, knives out, eyes sharp.

His hair skimmed his ears as he walked. He’d never liked this haircut and he’d never bothered to get a new one. Janus pushed his hair aside, feeling so strange about it, unused to the realness of his real hair.

He tried to shift. It was usually as easy as breathing--imagine a face, some features, and tug them into place. Janus kept an album on his phone of possible features, and it was like playing mix-and-match, like slipping on a second skin. Almost entirely thoughtless.

Now, it was like flexing a muscle he’d lost, reaching for something and finding nothing at all.

Janus felt powerless, and quite honestly, he’d never been so scared in his life.

“We, um, reached the end of the alley,” Princey pointed out, jolting Janus from his thoughts. “What do we do now?”

Janus sighed and kicked aside a garbage can. “What else can we do? See if Logic wakes up, I presume.”

“This doesn’t seem sanitary.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Janus lowered Logic onto the ground and propped up his head against the wall. He was somewhat certain one was supposed to elevate the head in case of head trauma. If not, well, they’d all find out together.

“Won’t they come after us?” Princey asked, flexing his fingers. “I’m--I’m still out of power, I can’t do anything--”

“I do have knives, you know.” Janus looked Princey up and down. “You’re all out of power? That could be a sign of a concussion--how many fingers am I holding up?”

Princey looked at Janus’ hands. “You’re just flipping me off.”

“Wonderful, your head’s intact. I suppose amnesia was too much to hope for.” Janus gave Logic another check-over and swatted him on the shoulder. “Logic? Are you going to wake up?”

Logic mumbled something and swatted at Janus in return.

“He’s trying to fight me,” Janus noted. “Seems like everything’s normal.”

“So now what?” Princey asked. “I’m hungry, my whole everything hurts, and you’re gonna kill us in three seconds and I am not prepared.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Janus said, rolling his eyes. “I want to figure out what happened first. And I can’t get the information until Logic wakes up.”

He didn’t add that a) he wasn’t too keen on Logic dying, period, and that b) he already had a pretty concrete idea of what had happened. However, he didn’t feel like thinking about it. At all.

What did this situation call for? Denial and fast food.

“Stay here,” Janus instructed, backing away. “Don’t kill each other. If Logic dies, bury him. If Logic wakes up, holler for me. I won’t hear you, but I bet he’ll find it entertaining.”

Princey blinked and opened his big mouth to either complain or say something very stupid. Janus, who was used to both of those events, turned and ran down the alleyway before Princey could finish.

The nearest fast food place was a gas station. The sun was setting in the sky, turning the city shades of gold, and the gas station already had its lights on. All the food was probably poisonous in several different ways, but it was food, and there was most likely some medical supplies there as well.

Janus looked down at himself and his famous vigilante costume and his long, sharp knives.

He might have to make a bit of a wardrobe change.

Janus tossed his knives in a nearby alley, peeled off his uniform, and un-rumpled the t-short and shorts under it. He tried to fluff his terrible haircut into something approximating actual hair. He touched his scar and steeled himself. It was just in and out, after all. Never mind that this was the first time he’d left his house as himself in years.

Janus walked up to the gas station, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

It was a small gas station. The floor was grimy and half the lights were broken, and the air smelled like bubblegum and cigarette smoke. A lone teller tapped at their phone, red hair swinging in their face. There weren’t even any other customers, and nobody was looking at him, save for the beady eye of a little store camera. Janus resisted the automatic urge to slash it in half. He was incognito right now.

Ironic.

Janus took another deep breath and padded down the halls, running his hand along the shelves. He grabbed a few bags of chips and a box of bandaids, because the station didn’t seem to have any actual medical supplies after all. Maybe Janus could put a bandaid on Logic’s head and have it magically erase any concussions.

He stopped by the soda cooler and opened it, a hiss of cool air blasting him in the face. He grabbed a few soda bottles and stuck them under his arm before closing the door again. For a second, he caught his own reflection in the glass pane--narrow brown eyes, ragged hair, and that scar.

He looked like Janus. And despite being only in a gas station, despite being out of costume and out of danger, he felt like his only safety net had been torn out from under him. Any moment now he could be stabbed, shot, burned, because there was no barrier between him and the rest of the city, no identity he could hide in--

Janus closed his eyes and placed his hand on the cooler, focusing on the chill. Breathe. In and out. This was fine, everything was under control, and he’d be able to fix things soon enough.

Of course, that was a blatant lie. Soulmates couldn’t be fixed. Soulmate couldn’t be undone. Soulmates tied you down and tore you open whether you liked it or not.

Janus was only Janus now, and he was powerless, and he had nowhere left to hide.

Janus swallowed, pulled the chips and soda to the counter, and let his hair fall across his face as the cashier rang him up. Their eyes still skated across his scar, and Janus pretended he didn’t notice. He ordered a hamburger as well and drummed his fingers on the counter until he was handed it. It smelled only vaguely like a hamburger. Good enough.

Janus ran all the way back. He grabbed his stuff from the trash can, tucked it under one arm, and kept to the shadows like that would hide him from himself. He almost expected his idiots to be gone from the alley when he returned, or for one of them to be lying in a pool of blood. However, he just saw Princey and Logic, right where he’d left them.

“He’s awake!” Princey declared as Janus stepped closer. “And I did not holler for you because I value my dignity!”

“I can speak for myself,” Logic complained, glaring at both of them.

“How do you feel?” Janus asked. He set the food down in front of them. Princey grabbed some chips and soda eagerly, while Logic hesitantly reached for the hamburger, wincing as his shoulder twisted.

“Easy,” Janus murmured.

“I’m fine,” Logic said. He nibbled at the hamburger and his face twisted. “This is the best you could get?”

“Don’t thank me all at once,” Janus complained. He dug his feet into the wall and scaled it to the first landing of the fire escape. He sat down and let his legs dangle through, wind playing across his skin.

Princey was gobbling chips at an alarming rate. Logic was taking small bites of hamburger and sipping at soda. Janus watched them both to make sure they weren’t going to collapse--they both seemed somewhat steady, which was good.

Good for what, he wasn’t sure. It definitely wasn’t good for attacking them. Then again, if Janus’ theories were correct, they were both powerless. He could attack them whether or not they were injured, and he’d win, because if powers weren’t in the picture Janus was the strongest and the fastest and the most skilled.

This made everything easier on him.

It also was the worst possible scenario ever.

Janus sighed and curled his hand around the fire escape. His fingers slipped on the metal. Of all the days to wear fingerless gloves.

He glanced down at Logic and Princey again. Logic was wiping at the dried blood on his suit. Princey was doing some hesitant stretches, chip dust around his mouth.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Janus called down without thinking.

“What do you care?” Princey fired back with a smirk.

Janus rolled his eyes instead of responding.

“Dee,” Logic said weakly.

“Yeah, Lo?”

“What are you wearing?”

Janus started and looked down at his old yellow t-shirt and black jeans. “Clothes?”

“You’re not in costume.”

“Yes, because I could totally have gone shopping in full costume, they’d give me a discount for being a hero to the city.” Janus leaned forward and tucked his chin over the fire escape. “What, like what you see?”

“Of course not,” Logic said. “I was just...surprised.”

“I don’t wear nothing under the costume,” Janus pointed out.

“Anyway,” Princey interrupted. “Um. We all seem to be okay and somewhat chatty, so may I ask--what now?”

“I don’t know,” Janus drawled, “do you have any expert advice?”

“Let’s start with what happened,” Logic said, hand raising to rub at the back of his head. “I remember fighting you, on the roof? Then...we fell.”

“You did indeed fall,” Janus said. “And I caught you in my own arms and carried you to safety.”

“You did?”

“No, you both clocked your heads on the pavement like a pair of idiots.” Janus pulled at his gloves. “Anything to say for yourselves?”

“I didn’t fall on purpose!” Princey argued, folding his arms. “Logic dropped me!”

“What?” Logic’s face screwed up in an emotion Janus couldn’t name. “I didn’t. I would never--”

Janus opened his mouth to explain what had happened. The words died on his throat. Maybe he could just lie to them about it, until he was far enough away to escape, to run and find a new identity and never see the two of them again.

But he had a duty to the city to kill them, a duty to himself to see this through--and a duty to them to explain.

“We’re--” Janus swallowed. “Princey, did you touch Logic, by any chance? Skin-to-skin?”

“What?” Princey blinked. “Um, did I--oh! I did! But what does that--”

“Oh, no.” Logic’s voice was quiet. “Oh, no, no, no--”

“Calm down,” Janus hissed, “let me explain to Princey here--”

“No.” Logic shook his head. “No, that’s not--”

“Let me explain to you, then, because unfortunately--”

“No!” Logic stumbled to his feet. “No, I can’t--we can’t--I’m not--”

“What’s happening?” Princey asked, his voice taking on a terrified edge. “What--what happened?”

“You both lost your powers,” Janus reported, his voice dull. “I touched Logic here, and I lost my own, so I’m assuming the three of us are soulmates.”

“What?” Princey yelled.

“No.” Logic squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No, no, no--”

“Will you calm down and let me finish?” Janus snapped. “This isn’t such a disaster, I’m sure there’s some way to reverse it--”

“It’s fate!” Princey looked about to either cry or punch something. “You can’t fight fate, Deceit, no matter what--”

“No.” Logic stared at his hands and stumbled backwards until he hit the wall with a thud. He wrapped his arms around himself, one hand seizing his sword, his eyes clamped shut.

“Hey.” Princey’s anger wavered. “Logic? You...good?”

“I can’t--” Logic’s voice choked itself off. “This can’t--”

Janus stared at him as he pressed himself into the wall, shoulders shaking.

Oh.

Princey was watching Logic with a kind of helpless worry. Logic himself looked about three seconds from falling to his knees. And Janus was still sitting on the fire escape, because it gave him several outs from the situation. It was better to be above the ground for surveillance purposes.

Janus sighed and vaulted over the fire escape, dropping to the ground in front of Logic.

“Hey.” Janus held up his hands and stepped forward. “Okay, Lo, I’m going to need you to breathe. Alright?”

Logic nodded briefly.

“In and out. Slowly.” Janus motioned at Princey to take a step back, and Princey did so, without hesitation. “You’re okay, Lo, I promise. We’re all okay right now, and we’re going to figure this out.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” Logic managed, his voice tight. A ghost of a smirk flickered over his face. “I hardly call that safe.”

“I’m not killing you,” Janus said. “Not yet, anyway. We have to figure this out first.”

“What is there to figure out?” Princey asked, his voice hushed. Maybe he was trying to stay quiet so as not to overwhelm Logic. Janus found that strangely endearing. “It happened. We--we lost our powers. There’s no going back from that.”

Logic shuddered.

“We lost our powers!” Princey burst out, apparently unable to keep himself quiet ay longer. “We lost them, and what am I supposed to do now, Remy is going to be pissed and this is my only source of income and I don’t want to die, thank you!”

“Nobody is dying!” Janus protested, which was probably a blatant lie. But Princey and Logic being anxious was making him anxious and he needed to get them to calm down. “I’m sure there’s a way to reverse being soulmates with someone--”

“You can’t!” Princey yelled. “You can’t, we’re stuck with each other, and I--” Princey’s fist slammed into the wall behind him. He swore and stuck his pinky in his mouth.

“It’s impossible,” Princey whispered when he’d stopped nursing his bruised hand. “Even for you, Mr. Smarty-Pants Deceit.”

“I don’t know,” Logic said slowly, drawing their attention. He’d mostly uncurled and his eyes were alight with a spark Janus recognized. It was the gleam of an idea. And Janus woudl be lying if he said it didn’t make him breathless with anticipation. “I think a lot of things are possible if you go to the right sources.”

“There are rumors,” Janus agreed. “In the black market, the underbelly of the city, so to speak. People can do a lot of things when nobody’s looking.”

Princey still looked skeptical, but he wasn’t punching the wall again, so that was a start.

“If we track down some of those leads,” Logic said, eyes widening, “we could possibly--”

“Ge our powers back,” Janus finished. “It would be like we’d never met in the first place.”

“Hold on, hold on.” Princey raised his hands. “I’m all for getting my super-awesome powers back, but we’re just going to trust Deceit on this? He’s literally named Deceit! This isn’t even his real face!”

Janus winced. “No. No, it is. I lost my powers too, remember?”

“Oh.” Princey paused. “I--right.”

“It’s fine.” Janus turned away, feeling his scar itch. “We’re all getting used to this.”

“He raises a fair point, though.” Logic was staring at Janus intently as if he could get all the answers he needed by parsing Janus’ eyes. Janus stared right back because he knew Logic couldn’t find a single thing. “Why are you helping us? Why--why did you help this? Is this all some sort of plot?”

“If it was, I wouldn’t tell you.” Janus looked at Princey, who also looked curious. “Oh, come on, are you two really going to question this? Would you rather I go slash-slash and lop your stupid heads off?”

“No,” Princey admitted, “but you have to admit, this seems...out of character. For you.”

“Undoing our soulmate bond serves me, too,” Janus said. “I can’t do my job in only one face.”

“Wear a mask,” Logic suggested. “It works well for me.”

“Being a shapeshifter is my brand!” Janus huffed. “Besides, I--if given the opportunity, I would prefer not to look like this all day. It...draws attention.”

Princey was watching him with what Janus was pretty sure was pity. He bristled.

“I like your hair,” Logic said.

Janus blinked at him. When it became clear Logic was dead serious, Janus laughed. “What?”

“Your hair.” Logic tilted his head. “And your...face-shape? It is aesthetically pleasing.”

“Are you trying to compliment me?” Janus said incredulously.

“Yes?”

Janus stared at Logic for a few more seconds. Predictable he might be, but he also managed to surprise Janus in perhaps the best way possible.

“Well,” Janus said, recovering himself, “good to know my charms are still in working order.”

“Er, I’m the charming one here,” Princey said. “Don’t steal my thing.”

“Of course. Apologies.” Janus looked around at the alley. The sun was almost set, leaving them standing in darkness. The city would be crawling with menaces both powered and non, and usually, Logic or Janus would be in the thick or it. Or Princey would be there, one of the perpetrators.

How would things work without the city’s biggest hero and fiercest villain? Or without the vigilante who kept them both in check?

It was unfair to the city to keep things this way. Logic and Princey might be nuisances, but they were familiar nuisances, and Janus would take murderers he knew how to handle over mysterious new threats any day. Besides, Janus couldn’t even imagine life without his powers, life with only one identity, no fallbacks or shields for when people came after him.

Janus needed to fix things.

And perhaps it was impossible, like Princey said. Or perhaps not, like Logic said. Either way, they’d find out together.

It was worth a shot.

“So we’re doing this?” he clarified, looking at his two worst enemies, his soulmates. “We’re going to try and get our powers back.”

Princey chewed on his lip, then squared his shoulders and nodded. “I’m not going back to the bottom of the heap.”

Logic nodded to himself. “They need me. And--I can’t exactly let everything I’ve done be for nothing, can I?”

“You do realize,” Janus said slowly, “we’re all going to kill each other one day.”

“Yeah, that’s the fun part!” Princey grinned. “It wouldn’t be sporting to fight an un-powered opponent!”

“We’ll kill each other,” Logic agreed. A smile flickered across his face. “But not yet.”

He held out a hand. Princey placed his on top. Both of them turned and looked expectantly at Janus.

Janus swallowed.

He wasn’t going powerless, and he wasn’t going without faces to hide in, and he wasn’t going to try this alone.

They would all kill each other--but not yet.

They all hated each other, but that wasn’t Janus’ problem.

This was the opposite of safe, but Janus couldn’t help but try, because what was the use of an opportunity if he didn’t take it?

Maybe he’d regret this.

But Logic and Princey intrigued him.

And how would he know unless he took the plunge?

Janus put his hand on top.

“Fantastic,” he said, and found himself smiling. “Let’s go mess with fate.”

General taglist:

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

@chaospersonified

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @intruxiety @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @just-your-typical-trans-guy @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts  @thatgaydemigodnerd @arya-skywalker @itsabsurd-and-terrifying @potatsanderssides @legendsgates @aceawkwardunicorn @thatgaydemigodnerd @callboxkat @k1ngtok1 @idontcareaboutcanon @somehow-i-got-an-account @silverobsidion-speaks  @a-fandom-trashdump  @sign-from-god-complex @star-crossed-shipper @locked-prism @cottonwoolsocks @dragonwithproblems @supernovainthenightsky @idont-freaking-know @nonasficcollection @evoodo123 @hekking-happy-nonsense @snowdice @enby-phoenix @hitmewiththatfanart33

#loroceit #roman sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #roceit #logince #loceit #i also maaayyy have turned this into a whole au #so...if anyoen wants...i might one day write more of this #averywrites #soulmate au #superhero au #superpower au #tw anxiety #tw death mention #tw murder mention #morally grey janus #morally grey logan #morally grey roman

[ko-fanatic]

Are You Going To Destroy It? (Part one)

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Danganronpa

Pairings: IshiMondo

Summary: Ishimaru is supposed to be perfect. He gets perfect grades, enforces the rules as hall monitor, and then goes home to care for his ailing grandfather while his father works long hours to support the three of them. But the simple fact is he's not perfect, and everything is unravelling his mental state more and more. Being forced to care for the man who ruined his life isn't helping.

TW: Suicidal thoughts, extreme bullying, self-harm, homicidal thoughts, family issues, mental health issues

Author’s note: Heavily inspired by Zankyou no Terror. Taka's storyline can be seen as an AU, but Daiya and Mondo aren't terrorists. Also, as a disclaimer: If you are aware someone is suicidal, DO NOT leave them alone. Mondo is just a kid, and doesn't know better, but now you do. If you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out.

For all Kiyotaka loved school, it could be hell. 

He was drawn to learning, to pleasing his teachers, following the rules… But the same could not be said for those times of day where he was offered no protection. Before school, breaktime, lunchtime, and after school. Those were torture.

“C’mon, Taka,” One of the boys by his side grinned wolfishly, arm slung around his shoulders in some faux-friendly action, when in reality it was simply to keep him from leaving. 

Had he expected any different when he was accosted and all but dragged to the pool behind the school building? Honestly, no. However, despite the probability that he could fight the boys off and run home, he… was tired. Too tired to push out of their grips and run yet again. 

Too tired to go home. 

Hence, here he stood, shoved to stand on one of the diving blocks - still in his full uniform - his classmates looming over him like vultures.

“Why don’t you go for a little dip?” The boy laughed as Kiyotaka resolutely stared out at the glistening water, so crisp and clear in the afternoon sun, “And then, well, not come up again.”

Ah, telling him to kill himself, yet again. They’d done this dance before (or was that another classmate? Their faces blur). He’d be lying, to say he hadn’t thought of it. Despite the utter terror that last instance had incited, razor blades thrown at him with jeering taunts to go cut up his arms some more, this is another level of intimidation. 

So painfully close to casual. 

“It’s what a filthy Ishimaru like you deserves.”

He was right about that, he supposed. Some time ago, he would’ve held his head up high and asserted that, yes, he is an Ishimaru, but he was going to fix his family’s reputation. He would drag his name out of the mud, and make it all better. 

Now, he just wants the exhaustion to end. 

“It’ll be just like falling asleep.”

The sentence rang over and over in his head, so similar to ones he’d thought on countless occasions; clutching bottles upon bottles of his grandfather’s pills, staring at the open blades of a pair of scissors, at the length of rope in the rotting garden shed that could easily be tied into a noose. 

And God, did he just want to sleep.

His body leant forward, without explicit permission but he had no will to stop himself, eyes closing as he awaited the burning sensation that comes with breathing chlorinated water -

“CANONBALL!!”

The yell was loud, startling all of them at the poolside, and accompanied with a large splash. Kiyotaka and his classmates got soaked with the tidal wave of water that had been dispersed, and Kiyotaka’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the cause of the disturbance. 

A handsome boy was in the pool, grinning ear to ear after his impressive dive from the roof above. His bleach blonde hair hung down in sopping ringlets, dishevelled out of whatever style it’d had before. His pretty, almost lilac eyes were heavily ringed in smudged, dripping eyeliner, but he didn’t seem to have a care in the world. 

“‘S too warm to stay poolside, guys!” The boy smirked, swimming up to them as Kiyotaka could only watch in confusion. Assumedly, his classmates were also dumbfounded, considering the utter silence that seemed to envelop them all like a thick fog.

That was when the boy grabbed him by the leg, pulling him into the water but never letting his head dip below. He wasn’t dragging him under to drown, wrapped in a cool embrace like his mind and peers had whispered to him over and over again. No, this seemed… friendly. Like the adolescents in the media, who play and rough-house, yet never want any harm to come to each other. 

He was still in the boy’s arms, head static and floating above his shoulders, reality a haze. He swore he could hear his classmates say something, though he doesn’t know what, and when he looked back they were gone. 

“Hey,” The boy smiled, much more subtle and subdued than the grin he’d previously flashed. Kiyotaka was lifted a little higher, placed gently on the side of the pool, his head lowered and rivulets of water running down from his short hair. 

“Are you okay?” The boy asked, “The things some assholes do… But you’re safe right now, yeah?”

He didn’t speak. He never spoke. 

“Sorry I pulled ya into the water,” The other spoke once more, leaning on one toned arm as the other scratched at the back of his mop of hair, “Thought I should put some distance between ya ‘nd those guys, and that was the first thing I thought of. Didn’t really wanna cause a fight with you in the middle, looking so out of it -”

“I’m -” Kiyotaka began, voice hoarse and so soft, quiet, and he paused to clear his throat, “I’m fine… Used to it, I suppose…”

“Well, then that’s not really fine, right?” The other posed, like it was the simplest thing in the world, “Name’s Mondo. What’s yours?”

He looked down at his uniform, thumbing the seam of his blazer sleeve, a million thoughts running across his mind but without any substance to actually grab hold of one. As noncoporial as a spirit.

“I… Kiyotaka Ishimaru…” He hesitantly put forward, his name feeling like molasses in his mouth, gluing to his teeth and oozing between his lips, “Thank you for helping me, Mondo-kun.”

It feels right, to thank him. Or, not right, but proper. A thing one should do. He cares a whole lot for propriety, has to, and the instinct kicks in fast. Mondo simply looks amused. 

“Ya don’t need to bother with honorifics, it’s cool,” He waves off, and a small pang in Kiyotaka’s chest murmurs ‘ah, to be so casual’. 

He’ll never be able to do something like that, because he’ll never have a friend to be casual with. He’s not being morose when he thinks that, either; at this point in his life, despite being just a few months shy of his fifteenth birthday, he knows that as empirical fact. He’s unlikeable, plain and simple, exemplified by his classmates attempting to gode him into suicide. 

That must mean he’s a special kind of hateful. 

Mondo looks up, then, at the roof. A man with dark hair stands at the railing, arm casually slung over the side, watching the pair of them from his vantage point. Something in Kiyotaka’s chest shrinks, but Mondo is quick to assure him. 

“My brother,” Is his simple explanation, “Are you… gonna be alright to get home? By yourself, I mean?”

The thought of going home makes him flinch. The soulless eyes, staring at the wall as he gives his near-catatonic grandfather his bath, feeds him his dinner spoonful by spoonful, gives him his meds and forces him to swallow. So helpless, dependent, pathetic…

An evil part of him screams to just hold him under the water, wrap his hands around the old man’s throat, give him too many pills at once. Because, for God’s sake, this man ruined his life before it began, and it’d be so easy to take him out. Like an old dog that has outlived its use, out behind the garden shed -

He cuts off those thoughts there. He’s truly a vile person. 

“It’s fine,” He lies, because it isn’t. He doesn’t know who he’ll snap and kill first, himself or his grandfather, and he still wants nothing more than to lay down in the water and breathe until his lungs give in.

“If you’re certain,” Mondo hesitates, looking like he wants to say more, but instead he just pulled himself out of the pool, “I should probably get back to my brother. Still, though, if those idiots come after you again… I ain’t usually one to agree with being a narc, but some things are just way too much.”

He nods, though his heart isn’t in it. 

“See ya around, Taka!” Mondo grins, giving a mock salute as he walks off. 

Nothing’s stopping him from shuffling off the tile, going down into the depths of the water and laying at the very bottom until the staff come by tomorrow morning. But he doesn’t. He’s not sure why he doesn’t, but he stands and walks out the pool gate, dripping water onto the concrete of the pavement and drawing odd stares as he treks home. 

Taka, he thinks, I like that. 

#danganronpa #ishimondo #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #mondo oowada #daiya oowada #are you going to destroy it series #my fanfiction

[dreamersleeps]

I keep re-reading MHA 299 and I know many are upset Hawks is standing up for Endeavor but... I get the whole chapter was setting up that Hawks is going to commit suicide by heroically protecting Endeavor. He doesn’t want to look at the alternative because it just adds to the tragedy of his life, but also because he wants to die. He probably feels he doesn’t HAVE to investigate it at ALL because what does it do for him? He’ll be dead and it won’t be something he has to worry about.

Hello, it’s nice to talk to you again! :) So I’m not sure if this is the response you were looking for cause I just sat down, began writing and it kinda went off topic? I’m not entirely sure, but thank you for sending your thoughts and opinions in!

I read over Chapter 299 a few more times and I’m not sure if I really interpreted it as Hawks wanting to die. However I think I can kind of see what you mean by he’s going to commit suicide in the sense that (depending on the outcome) the action of Hawks going to help Endeavor is “suicide” in that it is his choice. 

I think the root of my interpretation lies with my opinion that while Horikoshi does work with heavy and difficult subjects, I can not see him ending the story of Hawks’ with death. While I think he could die in a metaphorical or symbolic way (something I believe has already happened when he took Jin’s life) when his story ends, a physical death is not impossible.

Just to express my train of thoughts easier, the following panels are not in the exact order of how they appear. 

"Endeavor’s in Trouble” 

I can see how you could interpret what Hawks says as him “standing up” for Endeavor but I did not really read it in that way. Standing up for him implies that he is in a way “okay” with what Endeavor has done in the past, and if we get more on Hawks’ thoughts later it will be clearer on where he stands but if this is all we get, I’d argue that he is not “letting things slide,” because it’s Endeavor. 

All we currently have is that Hawks states, “Endeavor’s in trouble.” I think he’s most likely referring to Dabi here. 

I guess you could argue that he may commit metaphorical suicide by choosing to help Endeavor. If we want to continue pursuing the Icarus narrative: then even after falling and after gaining his freedom, Hawks chooses to head towards Endeavor, or the sun again.  

So as you convey, this is the controversial page. 

“Even if what Dabi says about the Todoroki family is true... I know things are different now.” 

The inclusion of Hawks’ memory of Shouto and Endeavor is very, very important here. It appears in the middle of this sentence. I’d argue that Hawks here was not brushing off or ignoring what happened in the Todoroki household, and again this is mainly because of the inclusion of the memory which happens during the Endeavor Internship arc. This is how he is thinking through the situation. Seeing as we get a glimpse of Hawks’ past memories, I’m sure that he has been contemplating about everything that was revealed by Dabi. Especially considering that Hawks most likely can relate to Touya to a certain extent. 

Hawks’ hero career involved a lot of him having to collect information, analyze information and reach a conclusion in order for him to act upon it. Perhaps that is why when he states, “I know things are different now,” it comes off as very bold. I think the boldness of his statement is what may have upset people but I think it has to do with the way he’s been trained to think. 

The secret missions Hawks had to undertake while working for the Hero Public Safety Commission required one to detach their job from their individual feelings and thoughts. He must not let sentiments get in the way. 

Sentiments 

As always, I like to include definitions of words I find very important that could be understood differently based on who you are - what are sentiments? A couple definitions that come up in the dictionary are: 

1) an attitude, thought, or judgment prompted by feeling, 2) an idea colored by emotion (Merriam-Webster) and 3) exaggerated and self-indulgent feelings of tenderness, sadness or nostalgia (dictionary) 

We see that feelings and emotion get in the way with his job when Hawks confronts Jin. Hawks had a connection and relationship with Jin that he did not have in his life. As we see below in Chapter 265 even Dabi points this out, “Looks like sentiment tripped you up after all, hero!” Yes, ultimately Hawks takes Jin’s life but I do believe he was hesitant and did not want to. The dialogue between the two has Hawks expressing that he believes that Jin is a good person who was dealt an unlucky hand in life. 

While he does convey that he wants to “save” Jin by helping him but after already assessing the threat he believed Jin posed and with the arrival of Dabi, Hawks weights his options and chooses to take his life. 

From a detached, cold reading of this scene, Hawks does mess up. His hesitance distracts him and makes himself vulnerable to Dabi’s attack which badly burns him, and he loses a large portion of his feathers. 

Now I’m only going to focus on the fact that Hawks takes Jin’s life and the thinking that went behind it. I’m not here to discuss in depth about my thoughts and opinions on the matter however I think by the end of this post, you may have an idea on where I stand.  

What is a hero? 

Okay, my wording here is confusing but I’m going to try the best I can to convey what I’m trying to get at. There is also the idea of the two concepts of heroism that float around the manga: 1) working as hero as an occupation and being able to fulfill that role, and then 2) one who we label as a hero/heroic in how they think and act. For both we think of saving, strength, power, charisma, etc. 

Then there are the other qualities we tend to associate with the second concept of who/what a hero is: being selfless and compassionate, having moral integrity, showing concern for others no matter who it is and being understanding of others’ perspectives. There are others as well but these are what come to mind at the moment. 

While the qualities I list above can be associated with heroes in general, in BNHA there has been an effort to differentiate at least two different concepts of heroism. The biggest example was with the introduction of the character Stain. If the reader had not been questioning hero society beforehand, Stain told us directly to think critically and refrain from being passive like the characters in the story. Due to the emergence of quirks, there were those whose quirks deemed “unacceptable” by society, their existence often leading to a difficult life or being  labeled as a villain. The demand for heroes created the concept of the hero as a job. 

And so heroes became celebrities. They are rich and influential, and they cover the cities with their faces to sell and endorse products. Even the physical copies of the BNHA manga have ads of various pro-heroes selling products in the back. There’s plenty of other criticisms that you could talk about such as the Hero Billboard Chart. 

While the older pro-heroes seem to have lost or never embodied the meaning of what the reader may argue as “being a true hero,” we see that there is a difference with the students, but first let’s go back to Hawks and Twice again. 

Yes, Hawks attempts to save Jin but the outcome is that he takes his life instead. Definitely not what the act of saving is supposed to look like. As seen above, Hawks had already verbalized that he may have to kill Jin. I’ll also throw in that I felt like Hawks was looking down at him in pity (like he does with his parents) and determines that Jin is need of saving. Hawks reaches that conclusion himself. But that is not what happens. Instead he decides that the death, or “sacrifice” of an individual is worth it if he can save hundreds or thousands of others. In this way you could argue that he has successfully acted to fulfill his job as a hero. But, as many people were wondering: 

Aren’t heroes supposed to save everyone? 

Perhaps one of the defining qualities of a hero is that they chose to save indiscriminately or most importantly, whoever they can reach. 

In the same arc we get Midoriya who is faced with a very similar situation. Shigaraki poses as a significant threat to the heroes and the rest of Japan. Midoriya knows that Shigaraki can wipe out all of those he holds dear to him and the rest of Japan if he is not stopped. Midoriya sees firsthand Shigaraki’s terrifying and destructive powers, his friends, teachers and allies being critically injured. He is with the knowledge that the people in his life and millions others may lose their lives. 

When faced with such a horrifying outcome, would stopping Shigaraki be enough? I’m assuming that taking his life would have been a very tempting option. To take a life to save millions of lives.

But even after all that we get this page spread of Midoriya’s final thoughts before he loses consciousness at the end of Chapter 295. 

Midoriya chooses compassion. 

The juxtaposition of Midoriya’s thoughts and image gave me chills when I first saw it. We see the outcome of the conflict: a quiet, lifeless city in ruins with the dust in the process of settling. This is the result of Shigaraki’s destruction. The reality that there are thousands of civilians who got hurt, are critically injured or even dead hangs heavy in the air. When society chose to ignore Shigaraki and the heroes chose to label him as an evil, unredeemable villain, Midoriya has chosen to look directly at him. 

Based on the first concept of what a hero is/does according to hero society, Midoriya dues not fulfill his duty as a hero after failing to defeat Shigaraki, however based on the second concept because he chooses compassion he has begun to embody the ideals of who a hero truly is.

Hawks is tripped up by sentiments but acts to finish the job the way he sees fit. 

exaggerated and self-indulgent feelings of tenderness, sadness or nostalgia 

He tries to be compassionate and understanding but isn’t. He has an image of Jin he created himself that is not the true Jin, hence why they are mere sentiments. He chooses to focus on his mission because he does not actual understand how Jin was feeling. This results in him looking past Jin’s life to protect the lives of millions of others. In contrast, Midoriya recognizes Shigaraki, the person who is standing immediately in front of him. In its purest form, to be a hero means to save indiscriminately and to save those you can reach. 

Being a hero as a career in BNHA becomes tricky as it means to defeat and take down villains, and choosing who to save as Hawks demonstrates. 

However to save someone like Shigaraki, Dabi or Toga (who were all let down by hero society) requires someone to take the more difficult path to reach a hand out with selflessness, compassion, and understanding. It seems that Midoriya, Shouto and Ochako will be the ones to extend their hands to them. 

“Starting With my Origin” 

Children often are only able to understand and grasp basic concepts. A hero is someone who saves you, or puts a smile on your face. We get a glimpse back in to Hawks’ childhood, to that innocent concept of heroes that Hawks had. 

As they say, “Never meet your idols/heroes” mainly because they are not actually who they are portrayed to be. The world looks very simple when you are younger, black and white, but as you grow and experience more of life, you start to begin to see just how complicated things are. There are way more gray areas when you begin to look closely. 

Similarly, Hawks does not see him in the same lens as he did in his childhood. He understands that the image of Endeavor he had when he was younger is not who Endeavor actually is. I don’t think that Hawks’ decision to want to go help him was made without thought. He takes in information and contemplates on it until he makes a conclusion. For someone who was actively seeking out more information, I’m wondering if all he has is what Dabi has stated. We have to remember that the information we have as the reader is not the same as the characters in the story. I’d also argue that he is not ignoring what Dabi has said but taking into consideration the past and whether Endeavor is working to change. 

Now that he is most likely no longer working for the Hero Public Safety Commission, he is free to do as he please, and as seen earlier, he chooses to walk towards Endeavor. The team up between the two in Fukuoka, and the ambush against the League of Villains and Meta liberation army may have strengthened their relationship but Hawks wanting to help Endeavor this time does not stem from hero work. 

Wanting to help Endeavor will put him directly on the path towards Dabi. 

Like you, some people believe that he may as in consequence for his actions, he will ultimately crash in to the ocean like Icarus, and die. The final fall. Perhaps his mistake will be that he will choose to pick Endeavor over Dabi, or find himself in a position where he may believe he has to take Dabi’s life away as well. 

Others believe that Hawks has had his Icarus fall already but will learn from the consequences of his actions. He’s died, but has been reborn like a phoenix. Shouto will be meeting Dabi again as well, and as we’ve seen, like Midoriya, he sees Touya as a person: his brother. He even identifies himself to him. I’ve seen people talking about and hoping for a team up between Hawks and Shouto so we’ll see what happens if they do. 

I’m going to bring the very last page back, but most of Chapter 299 has to do with Hawks’ childhood. His mother would ask him about why he was born and what the point of his wings were for and Hawks’ answer is to save people.

“Starting with my origin, so to speak... Endeavor’s in trouble.” 

We get a focus, visually to Hawks’ back. The origins of what allowed Hawks to save and be a hero: his fierce wings quirk, and it looks his wings are healing and growing back. I think you could also see it as him referring to Endeavor as well. The hero who saved him when he was a child, could also be seen as his origin.

During the High End vs Endeavor fight in Chapter 190, we see some of Hawks’ insecurities. Hawks is/was insecure about his back, and that is where his wings are. This was during the time when Hawks was working as a hero because it was his job. He did have that desire to save people but it was only a muted motivation behind what he did: he worked as a hero as a job first. I’m wondering if things have changed. 

Putting this all together, I think I’m currently leaning towards the second possible outcome from what I listed before. If Hawks can go back to his origin and become someone who tries to embody the true heroism. Of course he’ll stumble but it’ll still be a drastic change from how he had been living before. 

While I understand that many people are upset about these panels, I think we have to wait to see what will happen. To be honest, while I’d personally prefer the second outcome, I think I would be satisfied with either outcome. 

As the reader, we certainly can argue that Hawks is a tragic character however I’m not sure if Hawks considers his life as “tragic.” I think he will continue to do what he can as I feel like he defines his purpose based on what he does.

So will Hawks be tripped up on sentiments again, or will he be able to think and be understanding like Midoriya? 

As for now, I think it may be the first. 

#hawks #takami keigo #endeavor #todoroki touya #twice #bubaigawara jin #dabi #bnha meta #mha meta #bnha analysis #deku #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #cw abuse #cw suicide #luna answers

[the-sunshine-dims]

amnesia rewrite! (chapter 3)

it took a bit but here's chapter 3!

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6 | ch 7

original fic

words: 3,457

ao3

contents and warnings: angst (past and present), hurt/comfort, amnesia,  mentally a child!janus, patton has too much guilt to be healthy, flower crowns, food mention,

________

Roman slowly approached the open inviting door of Patton's room, which considering the circumstances that he was there for, didn't seem that inviting. After a moment or so he knocked on the wall to warn Patton he was there.

And Patton, who had been on the floor possibly scrapbooking, definitely making a mess, turned around quickly at the noise before he smiled at him

“Hey Ro!” He greeted with a grin, waving roman over to him.

Roman offered him a small, slightly strained smile in return  “hey Padre,” he greeted in return before going “pat you might wanna sit down because something... kind of happened.”

Pattons happy smile shifted into a concerned one as he started talking again “okay I’m already sitting, but what happened?” 

Roman nervously rubbed his neck, while he had volunteered to go tell Patton the night earlier he had not accounted for how awkward it would be to tell people something he didn’t fully know about, actually he was pretty sure he would still feel awkward even if he knew every single detail. “okay, so, apparently Janus.. went into the imagination, and something happened, we- logan and me, think he got attacked or hit his head or something, and umm well logan kind of confirmed he has amnesia..” he chewed the inside of his lip nervously, a bad habit he had picked up from Virgil a long while back.

Patton opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to process that and trying to find the right words before simply going “is he okay?”

Roman nodded “yeah, well he’s the best he can be. When I left, him and Logan were competing on who could complete a rubix cube the fastest, I’m pretty sure Logan was even letting him win,” he smiled to himself, and Patton couldn't help the small smile at that mental image either “it's kind of adorable actually.” Roman trailed off, eventually he remembered that there’s still one, very important last thing he should tell Patton “okay also, specs said Janus is mentally a child of some verity, we still don’t know exactly how mentally old he is but we know he doesn’t remember king splitting and anything more recent than that.”

Patton made a sympathetic noise “poor thing…” he trailed off, it would be bad enough if Janus had to deal with amnesia but Janus in the mindset of a child.. children shouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath of amnesia or loss (especially twice in the loss subject.) 

Roman nodded crestfallen as the image of Janus sobbing into his chest burned itself into his memory “yeah..” he agreed, Roman may have been kind of upset at Janus for the POF disaster but.. he didn’t deserve anything that happened in the last 24 hours.

After a bit it was clear Patton wasn’t going back to his scrapbooking so Roman sat down on the floor with him, doing what he and Logan did with Janus and just not leaving him alone after unleashing a bunch of stuff he had to process.

After another long stretch of silence Patton looked over to Roman “hey, ro.. do you think I’d be able check up on him?” He asked, he wanted Janus to know he cared enough to go and see him when something bad happened.

Roman hummed “probably, I mean it’s not really my decision but I’m sure he’d be happy to see you from what Logan told me, so yeah we can go see!” He told him before continuing “oh also if he wants to hang out or is just fine with hanging out you can go to bring him somewhere else if you want, because i’m pretty it'll be kinda boring otherwise.”

Patton smiled fondly, and with a nod he got up and helped Roman up with him, and after a moment of just standing there Roman realized Patton didn’t know where Janus even was because he accidentally excluded that information, even when it would make sense to share it, the closest thing he said to a location was that logan knew about Janus as well, and that was why he was awkwardly standing around so he just took Patton's hand in his own and pulled them into the hallway and headed to logan's room.

Once they had passed the kitchen Patton paused though, stopping them both dead in their tracks, before simply asking “have you guys eaten yet?” 

Roman laughed awkwardly and nervously rubbed his neck again, trying his best to avoid eye contact,

That was enough of an answer for Patton so he just sighed fondly before popping into the kitchen and beginning to cook food for everyone, once he was done he made sure to leave an extra two plates in the fridge, though it would be a wonder if Remus actually ended up eating his and didn’t just use it for an ‘art project.’

_____

Janus looked up from where he was sitting on the floor watching tv almost the very second the door opened, Expecting Roman since he disappeared a bit before, so the moment he did catch a glance he gave the smallest, happy little smile as he began waving, and received a wave from Roman in return,

Morality entering right behind Roman was a surprise though.

He offered another wave, because he liked Morality, He was nice, Morality once gave him one of his stuffies when Janus was sick, so he liked him.

After a moment Janus just settled back into his spot as Patton came over to him and handed him breakfast, Janus offered him a brief thankful smile to be polite because that's what Thomas's parents said to do before beginning to turn his attention back to the tv.

Patton was happy Janus seemed relatively content but he didn’t know how to ask to hang out with him, if he ever had a plan he had forgotten it the second he stepped into the room.

After a couple awkward moments he just took a breath and settled down before turning his attention to Janus and asking “hey would I be able to hang out with you for a little bit?” 

Janus turned to him and nodded, simply going “‘Kay” and continuing to do as he did prior, now just with the acknowledgment of Patton's presence, Patton couldn't help but smile as he settled fully onto the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce against the bedside, passively waiting for Janus to be done with his food and initiate a conversation, Patton knew sometimes there were days where people were less talkative so he didn’t wanna force him to talk if he wasn’t in the mood. 

After a while passed and everyone had eaten, Janus did end up speaking up, asking simply “how are you?” 

Patton smiled at him “I’m doing fine kiddo, how are you?” He asked in response, honestly he wasn’t the finest. He was nervous and still feeling guilty from everything that went down because of the wedding and the fact he had treated Janus so badly, hell he’d treated Remus badly too! He had been so mean to everyone.

Janus hummed in thought before simply going “‘m fine too,” which was only partially a lie, and he had a very tiring day the day before so he got to lie about how mentally drained he was, and hey he was fine for the most part, Roman and logic were being very nice and he had been able to just hang out watching tv while Logic worked and he liked doing that, it was some much needed calm,

Patton offered another smile as he tried thinking of what to say; after another awkward silence he decided To just warmly go “hey kiddo would you want to go explore? And if so do you have any specific places you wanna hang out at?”

Janus pinched his chin in a very exaggerated thinking pose that would make logan proud before just going “sure! and i don’t really mind anywhere really! Well- as long as there aren't horses there, they’re mean,” he told him, before continuing “they hate me and I hate them, it’s a mutually understood hatred.”

Patton didn’t have Time to unpack all of that so he just chuckled and nodded like he understood and didn’t have a million questions on why Janus hated every Horse in existence and just how they all hated him back- so instead of thinking about that he took a moment to think on where he should go with janus, not really knowing where janus would genuinely want to go, before remembering a certain interest Janus used to have that Patton distinctly remembered king showing off whenever he could, so after not much of a second thought he just smiled and asked “would you wanna hang out with me in Roman’s meadow? It’s really pretty there and hey we could even make flower crowns-“ 

The moment the words left his mouth Janus practically had stars in his eyes, he looked like a steven universe character as he excitedly gasped before nodding vigorously “yes please!” He chirped excitedly.

Patton once again smiled, and contained a soft chuckle at how happy Janus looked, he looked like when you tell a child ‘actually yeah why don't you pick out a candy’ when going to the store, he looked.. childish, and Patton thinks that’s good, if he’s in the mindset of younger Janus, Patton doesn’t think it would be good if Janus started acting like normal Janus right now.

After a bit of Janus just being excited it finally crossed his mind that the reason Patton’s not getting up to go is because he’s waiting for him to say he’s ready, so he bounces up and after a short confused look that’s quickly replaced with a smile Janus helps Patton up to the best of his ability and then it’s Janus’s turn to wait because he doesn’t know where anything is, he doesn't  even know how he got to Logan's room, all he remembers is crying a bit and then waking up under a soft blanket on Logan’s bed.

Luckily for Janus, Patton took no time to shoot a wave to Roman and Logan before going “I’ll be back soon, don’t worry I’ll keep him safe” and then presenting his hand for Janus and once their hands are linked Patton headed to the nearest imagination entrance.

_____

The moment Janus could see the archway with the absolutely beautiful meadow covered with all kinds of wildflowers and overgrown green grass just beyond it he ran out into it without a moment's hesitation.

Patton followed him with a smile playing on his lip, and a chuckle following in suit as Janus twirled himself around into a soft patch of grass and promptly fell face first into the blanketed earth, after a moment Janus just smiled hugely and began happily laughing as he turned over so he could face the sky. 

(And Patton tried his best to not think about how he had kind of outcasted this side, this side who with just the mention of flowers or flower crowns was almost bouncing with excitement, this side who viewed him as a friend, this side who really did want the best for Thomas. And instead he tried to focus on the fact he was trying to repair it, and the fact that Janus was practically elated as he began his best attempt at rolling around in the grass and flowers, which counted for something, at least it meant he chose a good place to hang out with Janus,) so he just smiled and sat down next to Janus, 

And after a moment he picked a small yellow flower and offered it to Janus, cuasing Janus to beam at him as he took it before he began picking others around him and weaving them into a crown with it.

And After a moment Patton just slowly went “I have to admit, I have no idea how to make flower crowns,”

Janus looked over at him with a reassuring smile before he replied “that’s okay, don’t worry! That just means I can teach you!” he said as he grabbed more flowers and started a new crown and while making sure Patton was paying attention, weaving them together slowly to see if that was all Patton needed to learn or if he needed actual instructions like he did when creativity was trying to teach him to crochet.

Patton tried his hand at it after he grabbed a handful of flowers and slowly tried to replicate what Janus did, and after a bit and some trial and error he was successful, Which caused both Janus and Patton to cheer because he Did it!

“You did it!! You did super super well too!” Janus congratulated him excitedly, and he decided he liked teaching, he felt super proud, he understood now why Logic liked it so much now (despite not really actually teaching.)

“Thanks!” Patton grinned, and after a minute they both started doing their own things, Patton trying to make another flower crown to get the gist of it down to memory, and Janus.. Doing something, he wasn't entirely sure what.

Though soon the peaceful happy mood shifted for Patton, it wasn't that anything really happened, actually it might've been because nothing happened, because it was quiet enough to allow Patton to begin thinking, and normally thinking was a good thing, but recently every time he began thinking all he could think about was how wrong he'd been and how much he'd failed- so the more time went on the more sorrowful he became and the more the small smile that had been left from the little mini celebration dwindled.

After awhile of the two just sitting in silence the thoughts got louder and louder, them all just echoing in his head until they got loud enough to voice themselves, much to the chagrin of Patton, who would prefer having a choice of whether his insecurities and regrets got out, and if they did get out he would prefer to tell them to someone who hasn't literally just been through a traumatic experience, “I’m sorry- I’m sorry I misjudged you and was mean- I’m so sorry I was so awful to you- I’m so so sorry” he practically word-vomited. the words coming out a mile a minute, and because of that he was able to make it become more mumbly a little after the second ‘sorry’, which was lucky for him as he wanted it to be as inaudible as possible so Janus didn't have to actually understand his little guilt-ridden ramble, which didn't work completely but he tried, because he didn’t want to let his guilt get in the way of hanging out with Janus, Janus quite honestly should not have to deal with that at the moment, he should get to have a happy fun day, since he was already dealing with so much, if he did even tell him he wanted to tell him after his memory returned.

Janus was silent for a couple moments, quite honestly he was so confused, he didn’t know what Patton meant and even if he did it was so abrupt it left Janus quite literally stunned, but after an uncomfortably silent minute or so he tried to defend Patton “I don’t know what your talking about.. but I’m sure you weren’t mean! And if you were you probably had a good reason for it, I know you! You wouldn’t be mean if you didn’t have a good reason!” He told him insistently. 

Patton.. really wished that were true, he had a good reason on paper but in reality not so much, he wanted to keep Thomas safe, and somehow his view of Janus had changed throughout the years to view him as a danger, despite him knowing Janus, well he didn’t know his name till recently but he knew Janus. but regardless of that somehow he started thinking Janus was evil, and then he had mistreated him, not hearing him out even when Janus was probably the expert on the situation. “dee.. I know you don’t remember it but I really was super super mean! and I misjudged you and I most definitely ended up hurting you and you didn’t deserve any of it! and I’m so sorry I’m just.. so so sor-“ Patton was cut off abruptly as Janus hugged him, 

“You probably had your reasons,” he said once again, much more insistent, and patton couldn't help but wonder, had Janus always seen the best in people? And when did he stop? “-and whatever they were I’ll probably forgive you for them! I mean I honestly don’t remember what you're talking about so it might be... a bit before I fully forgive you when I got all the memories and stuff back but-  no matter what,” he pulled out of the hug just to be able to look into Morality’s eyes, trying to look stern, which for once, didn't really work. “you deserve a second chance.” He told him firmly, and after another moment he continued “and I’m certain we’ll be friends! I promise I’ll stand by you when I’m all memory-y again, promise!” He grinned and plopped his now suddenly and magically finished flower crown onto Morality’s head.

Patton smiled sadly at him, “okay, and.. Thank you,” he said, leaving what he was thanking him for blank, and honestly he was still feeling extremely guilty because despite everything and Janus not really knowing what he meant he still comforted him to the best of his abilities, and really how could he think Janus was evil, how could he, roman and Logan dismiss him so easily? never inviting him to the table, and pretty much just ignoring his existence to Thomas. later when everything was normaller Patton needed to have a sit down discussion with Janus and Remus because he needed to make sure they were starting to be listened too, and that they knew they would be, however though currently he needed to focus on Janus, because Patton brought him here to have a good day and while he thinks since it's been maybe a bit more than a hour, and eventually it'll get boring, he still wants him to have a good day.

So he adjusted the flower crown to be more comfortable on his head before he slipped right into his happy façade which luckily Janus, who was trying to make a little cave out of the tall overgrown grass, didn't seem to question “so kiddo! After maybe a half hour more out here would you wanna go inside and watch a show or movie? I can make popcorn!” (-and now that Patton was paying attention did Janus look that young before?)

Janus perked up like a sunflower and nodded “mhmm! sure! What would you wanna watch?”

Patton Smiled “I don't really care, i'll be fine with whatever you wanna watch kiddo,”

Janus seemed to think about it before going “can we watch kiki’s delivery service..? Oh! And can we have skittles too?”

Patton smiled once again. “of course! When we get inside I’ll set it all up!” 

Janus’s eyes lit up brightly before he murmured an excited thank you and tried to hurry and begin distracting himself so he wouldn’t feel like he was waiting and time would pass quicker and a minute wouldn't feel like an hour also he needed to focus on making that last crown anyway since he had already made one for Logic and he needed to make one for Roman.

_____

A couple hours later Logan and Roman got curious as to where the two went and discovered Patton and Janus dead asleep, Janus pretty much curled up into a ball against Patton's side, Janus’s normally small form somehow slightly smaller, as Patton's arm snaked around his side almost protectively, with the Tv asleep from no use, Logan and Roman just shared a soft fond look before silently agreeing to not wake them and summoning a blanket for the two before leaving. Logan and Roman could see something had changed, they could see the tension eased from Patton's shoulders ever so slightly, not gone for sure but he was clearly content and that was breathing room, because while Patton had always left the door to his room open as an invitation to anyone and everyone that they could come in and that had persisted, Patton had still been coming out of his room less and less, and aside from that there was other things that just made it clear something was wrong, but Patton and Janus were content, right there, taking a nap, and for now that's all they needed to know. 

#ts patton #ts roman #ts janus #roman sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #hurt/comfort #angst #the cold one writes #amnesia #amnesia rewrite #amnesia series #patton im just like bop bop bop get a theripist your right dont talk to janus about it hes mentally a child he shouldnt have to deal with- #adult stuff right now #sanders sides janus #sanders sides roman #sanders sides patton #ts logan

[iturbide]

You know what? You forced me to start planning a huge post breaking down Faye, so for "revenge" I'm asking you to do one for Robin too! >:) (oh and Grima too if you want, it's always great hearing you talk about them)

MISSION: SUCCESS

but I will take this vengeance challenge starting with my boy

How do I feel about this character?

Look.  Robin has been my Summoner Support character since the day the system launched.  He’s maxed out on dragonflowers at 15.  I sacrificed a 5-star exclusive dagger with a high-rarity and very potent A passive to him over any other possible unit I could have given it to.  I have written just shy of 500k words of Awakening fanfiction in which Robin is a central figure in every story. 

I kind of love Robin a lot.  That may, in fact, be an understatement for my feelings.

Who do I ship this character with romantically?

Theoretically I could ship just about anyone with Robin (with a few exceptions *coughFrederickcough*) but my big ones are Chrom (naturally) and Sumia!  Those two are the ones I most enjoy seeing Robin with since I think they play off one another in really enjoyable ways -- and it’s even better when it’s all three of them together!

Who is my brOTP for this character?

Lissa.  I LOVE Robin and Lissa as best friends and confidantes who can tease each other but will always, always have each other’s backs.  Robin and Henry being super tight as siblings is another favorite dynamic, Robin and Sully is right up there with Robin and Lissa, and when I’m not shipping them Robin and Sumia as best book buddies is near and dear to my heart.  Also Gaius, Libra, Panne, and Kellam -- I love Robin and Kellam bonding so much it does my heart good (which is why so many of these relationships are, in fact, integral to Future Built).

What’s my Unpopular Opinion™ about this character?

oh boy I have a million of these haha but the biggest one that really is an unpopular opinion is that Robin is proud of their Plegian heritage and would never EVER forsake it.  I’ve seen a not insignificant amount of fanart that puts Robin into clothing that’s clearly Ylissean in cut, style, and/or pattern, and this drives me up the wall because Robin is canonically one of our very few characters of Plegian heritage, someone who goes around throughout the entire game in a coat that bears the literal emblem of Grima in the eye-patterned sleeves -- something that’s preserved in their Grandmaster class, no less, rather than quietly done away with.  That coat is clearly important to them, and deep down -- even with all their memories buried out of direct reach -- I think their cultural heritage as a Plegian is of the utmost importance to them, such that they would only go without some show or sign or it if they were forced to do so. 

Basically, in my personal opinion, Robin should always have Plegian touches in whatever they wear but ESPECIALLY if it’s otherwise Ylissean in appearance.  Erasing Robin’s Plegian heritage is really gross to me personally, and funny enough, even IntSys didn’t do that for once, so fandom should really have no excuse.

What’s one thing I wish would have happened with this character in canon?

For Robin?  Either meeting their mom should she still be alive, or at least getting back their memories.  It does make sense that Robin started the game as an amnesiac because it let us learn through them, and made a lot of the revelations really pack a punch -- but after a certain point?  I really, really wish that Robin’s memories would have come back to them so that we could find out more of who they were before and what their experiences had been.  Even before a full return of those memories, they could have done simple things, stuff like reactions based on muscle memory or reflexive training that surprise them sometimes, or stated feelings of deja vu -- but later in the game (and supports) I really wish they would have give us something that tells us more about their life; what would be especially nice is if those returning memories involve Grimleal rituals or teachings, because I think it would have been really powerful to have someone we love and care for so much (as our player avatar) shining a better light on the much-maligned faith of Ylisse’s neighboring nation.

I’m very, very biased about that, though.

and BONUS: Grima time

How do I feel about this character? 

I’m pretty sure that at one point, if you searched up the #grima tag, mine was one of the top blogs that came up (though I’ve been getting lazy and tagging less by character lately so I’ve fallen out of there).  I’m also pretty sure that most of the people following me ended up here because of all the Grima content I started pouring out when the first one dropped in Heroes.  Grima is one of those characters who I write about exhaustively and who subtly manages to play a role in most of my Awakening fic, including the ones where they don’t physically appear (I call those Grima Sightings and frankly I would love it if people tried to spot them). 

...I think Grima has just taken over a part of my brain and to be perfectly honest I’m okay with that.

Who do I ship this character with romantically? 

Emmeryn.  That’s it.  That’s the only character I have ever or frankly will ever ship Grima with because that was already something that came out of left field I literally cannot imagine anyone else managing to spark the same reaction a second time.

Who is my brOTP for this character? 

Robin, honestly.  I love the idea of Robin and Grima interactions where the two end up becoming close as friends and confidantes, regardless of the situation.  Is it kind of heartbreaking when it’s the whole “Grima’s in control and Robin’s in the backseat” situation?  Undoubtedly, but it’s also really moving to consider that they might learn how to work together and help each other and work toward a shared purpose. 

And also Grima getting parenting advice from Robin in Heroes during the early days of the creche is A+++ in my opinion.

What’s my Unpopular Opinion™ about this character? 

Aside from the idea that Grima is in fact the most parental of dragons and broods in the literal chicken sense or my giant conspiracy theory that Grima came to the past to do the same thing Lucina did (avert the ruined future)?  It’s probably that Grima is not an instigator of conflict or chaos: they’re antisocial and would prefer to distance themselves for the sake of having some peace and quiet rather than getting dragged into yet more conflict based on human preconceptions or judgments based on appearance. 

Fandom at large loves to play Grima as unrelenting evil and constantly in competition with the Awakening folks (especially the Exalted lineage) but...that doesn’t make any sense to me personally?  Grima hasn’t really asked for anything that’s happened to them: they’ve been used and abused by humanity by their own admission, and Validar is just the latest in the line to do the same, causing unspeakable harm for the sole purpose of raising Grima to destroy the world at his own bidding.  Yeah, maybe Grima doesn’t have the best feelings toward the Exalted Lineage, but also why would Grima be the one picking the fight?  If you mess with Grima the Fell Dragon will step up (Vengeful Fighter is their innate B passive in Heroes, quite likely for a reason), but I really don’t see them going out of their way to cause trouble.  They just want to be left in peace, but humans really don’t seem to get that.  Yes, the fanart can be funny, but it also rings false to me, because I really think Grima would just flat-out ignore the Exalted lineage unless they make the confrontation, at which point Grima won’t hold back.

What’s one thing I wish would have happened with this character in canon? 

First of all I really do wish we could have seen a peaceful resolution with Grima rather than having to destroy them, especially considering that the Fell Dragon really didn’t seem all that interested in hurting anybody even after raising the dragon form (see the aforementioned conspiracy theory).  Grima has been hurt so many times throughout their life that I think it would have been deeply meaningful if we could have reached out in an attempt at understanding, to have come to a non-violent resolution, and found peace without someone needing to die for once.  When Grima purposefully abstains from nuking the group that poses a threat to their life upon resurrecting their impossibly huge and powerful dragon form and instead flies out over the ocean -- so far they need Naga herself to teleport them -- it kind of says a lot about how much Grima really wants to fight (answer: they clearly don’t).

Other than that, though?  Just...give us more of Grima in general.  Tell us more about their history, especially the thousand years between their emergence from Thabes Labyrinth and their fall at the hands of the First Exalt.  I want to know more of that history, I want to see how they treated the humans that flocked to them, even knowing that those same humans would eventually break Grima’s spirit.  We just have so few crumbs about Grima, I want more than anything to get a meal instead.

Give Me a Character

#answered #unsuspecting-person #meme #fire emblem: awakening #robin #grima #i stand by both my ot3 and my crack ship okay #but wow these really got out of hand whoops #i could have written more no less #but i tried to rein it in at least a little bit