#Faked Death

[aventurineswife]

aventurine x reader, but they both worked in the IPC together, until Reader faked their death to escape it. Aventurine kinda loses himself for a bit, but is sent on another planetary mission (idk what ipc assignments are called 😔) he notices one of the citizens looks a bit too much like a previous friend

Reader realizes Aventurine found them, and feeling too scared to face him after never saying goodbye, warning or anything, they run off to a secluded area aven follows them to, and boom we get angsty argument, bittersweet love confession, and happy or sad ending up to u!!

i hope this made sense

The Gamble of Lost Hearts | Part 1

Summary: After faking your death to escape the IPC and live a quiet life, You encounters Aventurine years later on a remote planet. Desperate to avoid facing him after leaving without a word, You run, but Aventurine tracks you down to demand answers.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, angst, reunion, faked death, confrontation, bittersweet, passionate kiss, unresolved feelings, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Warnings: Intense emotions, mention of grief and faked death, brief argument, bittersweet themes, kissing.

A/N: Thank for the request, Anon! Of course it made sense and I hope you like it!! I decided to go for a happy ending but lmk if you want a sad ending too 😇🤭

(Part 2)

The tall silhouette of the IPC headquarters still felt like a ghostly shadow looming over you, even on this remote planet. You'd spent years running from it, from him, leaving behind everything you knew to escape the endless cycles of high-stakes deals and veiled dangers. Faking your death was your only way out. A drastic choice, but one that had kept you free.

For the most part, it had worked. You’d blended into a quiet, new life here, far from the frenetic energy and luxurious intrigue of IPC. But today was different. A mission had arrived from IPC. You hadn’t realized who would be leading it—hadn’t dared to imagine he would come to this far-flung place.

And yet, here you were, ducking down behind market stalls, holding your breath every time he brushed past. His sandy-blond hair, elegant stance, and that gambler’s grin that still haunted your memories—it was all here. And with him came a flood of feelings you'd kept buried for years.

Somewhere along the winding paths of this new city, you’d slipped. He'd caught sight of you, and that glimmer in his eyes told you he knew.

You didn’t waste time running. You veered down alleyways, taking shortcuts and dodging through side streets, ignoring the heart pounding in your chest. The cliffside path outside the city led to a hidden grove where you’d often retreat to watch the waves crash far below. Maybe there, he would lose your trail.

But there was no outrunning someone like him.

“Quite the bold tactic—faking your own death,” His smooth voice sounded just as you remembered, laced with that same easy charm but edged with something new—something raw. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

You took a breath before facing him, his piercing gaze pinning you down as soon as you met his eyes. He stood mere steps away, looking as striking as ever, the faint roulette motif on his overcoat catching the last of the setting sun.

“Aventurine, I…” The words failed you. How could you explain years of silence? Of leaving him to mourn?

“I grieved you, you know.” His voice was soft, nearly breaking. “I searched, hoping it was all some misstep. Until the day I accepted you were…gone.”

The ache in his words stung worse than you’d anticipated. “I didn’t have a choice...” you whispered, but your words sounded feeble, empty even to yourself.

“No choice?” Aventurine scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. “We were supposed to be partners, weren’t we? You could have trusted me.” He took a step forward, anger blazing in his eyes. “But instead, you turned me into a fool. For years, I mourned a ghost while you built this quiet little life on the fringes.”

“You don’t understand,” you argued, feeling that familiar pang in your chest. “It wasn’t just about leaving IPC. I couldn’t… If I stayed, I would’ve lost myself. That place…it consumed everything.”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Aventurine’s voice softened, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face, a tender gesture that held the weight of all the things left unsaid between you. “Do you think I didn’t want to leave with you?”

You swallowed hard, caught off guard by his words. The idea of Aventurine—the gambler, the thrill-seeker—longing to escape had never crossed your mind. But here he was, his eyes reflecting a deep sadness that mirrored your own.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, the sincerity in your voice mixing with the regret that had gnawed at you all these years. “But I couldn’t drag you down with me.”

“You didn’t give me the choice.” he whispered, voice barely above a murmur. His eyes searched yours, desperate to find a reason, a justification that could somehow absolve the pain he’d carried all this time. And then, with a hint of frustration, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a fierce, desperate kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was raw, full of the emotions he’d held back, the years he’d spent believing you were lost.

The kiss stole the words from your mouth, every excuse, every apology dissolving in the intensity of that single, electric moment.

When he pulled back, his hand still lingered at the side of your face, thumb tracing the faint line of your jaw as he gazed at you with a newfound resolve. “If you run again, I’m coming with you.” he murmured, his voice steadier now.

You met his gaze, realizing he meant it. There would be no more running, no more hiding. Aventurine wouldn’t let you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised softly, the weight of your words sinking between you both. “Not without you.”

A flicker of a smile returned to his lips, tempered by the hurt that had yet to fully heal but brightened by the glimmer of hope that you could finally face whatever came next—together.

[youcallyourselfafilmcritic]

Latest James Somerton Lore Drop:

[greensleevesii]

Y’all let’s be real. James Somerton definitely stole those ass pics

[raikirikiri]

thinking about if konoha ninja who became anbu frequently 'died' so they wouldn't be on any registry and so other villages would get word that notable shinobi have 'died'. they don't do it often, that would be suspicious, but they do it to kakashi. minato assigns him to anbu and apologizes blandly when he tells him his death is going to be faked. kakashi, broken traumatized and depressed, thinks nothing of it.

kakashi 'dies' on a mission months after the death of rin, after obito watched, after he lost pretty much everything and any sense of self he had. his body isn't recovered and the circumstances of his death are unclear.

if im being entirely cruel, this means that no one in the village (guy, asuma, iruka, etc.) would know that kakashi is still alive. they all think he's dead and they grieve him and kakashi... disappears. he doesn't know himself anymore and he can't, because he's dead and he's in the anbu now and that's all that matters. his life for konoha in life and death, always.

obito, being the stalker he is, looks for kakashi. he missed him entering the anbu, he missed the faked funeral, he missed a lot. he tries to find him in his shoebox apartment, stakes out minato's home, sits at the memorial stone and rin's grave. but kakashi never shows up and obito decides he'll check the active missions in konoha, just to know where kakashi is (definitely not to follow him and watch him, that'd be weird, duh). so after sneaking into the hokage's office with kamui, he rifles through the piles of s-rank and a-rank missions, but kakashi's name is nowhere to be found. confused and almost insulted on kakashi's behalf, he checks the b-ranks and below, but no dice.

now obito is getting...nervous might not be the word but he's definitely feel angry at this point. if kakashi isn't home, on a mission, grieiving, or with minato then where is he. obito stalks guy next, finds him sitting on a rock by a stream, glum. he's pale, his eyes are watery, he looks exhausted and obito is definitely nervous at this point. he'd never admit it but for something to get guy of all people down... obito fears for the worst.

through much stalking and espionage, obito finds out where kakashi is.

he's dead.

that can't be right.

he would've heard if kakashi was dead, right? zetsu would've told him. he would've known. kakashi has one of his eyes, he definitely would've known. and obito, pissed, scared, and indignant, opens up the connection between him and kakashi, searching for kakashi's vision, for what he can see. he hasn't done it since that night when rin...

he didn't want kakashi to know it existed, never even wanted to take that chance. but he doesn't care anymore. kakashi isn't dead. it's just not possible.

obito was right. kakashi isn't dead.

but he might as well be.

kakashi has no way out of the anbu now, no way that wouldn't give away konoha's secrets. guy can't help him because guy thinks he's dead, minato can't help him, he killed him in the first place. kakashi will forever live, breathe, and die for konoha. it makes obito's blood boil, he feels reminiscent of the night rin died.

he hates kakashi. he wants to hate kakashi. he can't hate kakashi. he can hate the world, he can despise konoha, he can want to kill minato. but kakashi...

he's never been able to hate him. no matter how hard he tried, how easy kakashi made it for him. when it came to kakashi, his balance between love and hate was never more skewed.

there's a particularly awful mission, kakashi is the only one to return to the village and he's...he's not good. obito watches him laugh hysterically as he washes his hands of blood that isn't there. he's never seen kakashi so broken and it hurts more than he ever thought it would.

obito gets kakashi out of the anbu. kakashi hates him for it, fights him, thrashes against him and his will and ideologies. kakashi doesn't know him, obito was too ahamed to reveal himself. it doesn't matter though, kakashi wants to die. he was happy in the anbu, he says. it'd be a quicker death, a noble death.

you've already died, obito shouts at him, enraged and torn apart. how can't he see it? how can he be so naive and blind to it all?

kakashi doesn't answer, doesn't know what words to say to make this stranger believe he isn't worth the trouble. obito has no choice.

with a shaking hand, he removes his mask. kakashi watches, eyes wide and wet and obito throws the mask to the side to hold out his hand. you've already died, but you can be reborn.

with me.

kakashi, broken tattered and thoroughly sure he's lost it, takes obito's hand. yes, kakashi thinks, he's died. but if this is the afterlife, than maybe things won't be so bad...

[shywhumpauthor]

Okay mock executions are fucking terrifying I have not seen nearly enough of them in the whump community.

Whumpee who knows they’re going to die the next week/day/few hours and there’s nothing they can do to stop it. The panic and desperation with no outlet. They claw at their restraints and throw themself at the door to their cell, uncaring as bruises bloom across their skin, or as blood begins to build up underneath their nails. They’re willing to sacrifice everything for the futile, fleeting hope of escape. They scream and beg until their voice goes hoarse even though there’s no one nearby to listen. Eventually, they crumple in on themself to the awful realization that their future is set and cut. They can’t even sleep without their dreams being plagued with this lingering terror. Maybe they’ve seen Whumper kill someone in the manner they’ve told Whumpee they are to be executed, so Whumpee can’t even pretend to think that maybe Whumper is bluffing.

When the day comes, they still haven’t settled into their fate. They’re absolutely hysterical, doing everything they can to stay away from Whumper and [insert place where they were planned to be executed]. Of course, this does nothing. If they won’t walk, Whumper’s men will simply drag them. At one point maybe Whumpee manages to break free for a short moment of hope, managing to throw their elbow against Henchman’s stomach and twist away, actions fueled only by the adrenaline flooding their mind. They take a single desperate lunge towards the door, before something hard catches them upside the head and knocks them down. Their vision is fuzzy and fleeting, hearing nothing but a faint ringing. Maybe they’re unconscious altogether as Henchman picks them up and continues to drag them towards their final destination.

Whumper plays out everything the way it was intended. They tie the blindfold over Whumpee’s eyes, exchange their chains for softer restraints. Whatever. Then when it comes time for the strike, for the blade to pierce through their chest or slit across their neck, all that Whumpee feels is a small prick against their neck, something cold flood through their body before their thoughts collapse under the intensify of the stress and their mind gives out.

Wherever they wake the following day, let it be somewhere much worse than death’s doorstep or a place so peaceful Whumpee couldn’t even begin to comprehend, Whumpee will be terrified. Panicked and confused. Their thoughts will have no answer as they realized there is no one else around to answer their cries. They wonder if this is death, the afterlife or whatever it was called.

That hope is crushed, replaced by even more of a helpless confusion as Whumper strolls through the door moments later, grinning as they ran their fingers across the sharp of a blade.

[genyawritesshizz]

A Hum of Time. Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Part 4

Summary: An innocent relationship between two workaholics could not possibly be that eventful. Just two individuals finding comfort within each other's company and the occasional cup of coffee. What happens when a secret that could ruin both of their careers brings the whole thing crashing down? In a heart wrenching decision, you must do what is best for all three of you and brave the future alone. Will you ever tell the truth? You might not have a choice.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Tigger Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence, blood and gore! Depression and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

4550-word count

Unleashing the angst MUHAHAHHA >:)))))

He could not just let you go. 

The night his personal world stopped spinning burned itself into his mind. Replaying the memory on a repeated loop until he was inevitably pulled into another mind busying task. All in attempts to shun it from his visage, yet it always came back. Vivid and raw the memory played. 

Coming back from a late night at the office with eyes battling the sting of sleep he wandered into the safety of your shared apartment. Far too tired to think he contemplated collapsing on the couch, yet a growl from his stomach pushed him past the cushions. He had not eaten today, something you’d surely scold him for. A sickening wet crunch under his shoe when he entered the kitchen caused his eyes to fully open, his consciousness returning. Finally taking notice of his surroundings the area was akin to a homicide scene. Shattered glass littered the tiled floor. The wooden door to the cabinet lay splintered. At first glance his frantic mind feared blood smeared on the walls, but as the stinging pungent stench of alcohol and fruit penetrated his nose it was thankfully wine.

“(Y/N)?” He called, voice higher in pitch with panic. The sound echoed through the house yet received no reply. Cold sweat of dread ran down his forehead, his intuition screaming in unease. Calling for you again he paced the hallway towards your shared bedroom. Maybe you’d fallen asleep? Maybe you had partaken in too much wine and passed out? His heart hammered against his chest; adrenaline coursed through his veins as he flung the door open. Eyes scanning the room, his anxiety swelled to a peak at seeing the room in disarray. Clothes littered the floor and storage boxes once hidden under the bed lay strewn about. Running to the conjoined bathroom as a last hope, it too was barren. With labored breath he pulled his cellphone out, fingers hammering against the numbers as he prepared to call the authorities until the buzz of a text made his heart stop.

(y/n): ‘I can't do this anymore Toshinori. Please, take care of yourself.’

“No..” 

“Your call has been forwarded to an automotive voice mess-””

“NO! NO! NO!”

“Your call has been forwarded to an automotive voice messaging system. At the tone, please record your message.” His fingers lost their grip around the device. He soon joined it. Fallen and broken on the bathroom floor. 

‘She’s gone? She left? Why?’ 

Through grief he pondered why. Why did you leave? Why did you not talk to him before making such a drastic decision? He knew the answer, any fool with half a heart could understand why. When was the last time the couple genuinely had a moment together? When has there ever been time to discuss it? Guilty and heartbroken at knowing he had failed you he curled in around himself. Laying on the cold tile floor until the sun arose anew and the duty that had taken him from you and in turn you from him, called once more. 

The real world stopped for no one.

A transfer request from an American agency sitting atop his desk two weeks later solidified it in his mind, you were truly gone. Off to America to continue being a hero, back on course to living your dream, without him. He pushed you away, just like everyone else.

In reality your life had been anything but a dream. Your own heartache grief had set in upon watching the life you’d spent years creating grow distant from the window of an airplane. Anything you had to show for it had been stuffed in a carry on and two suitcases. Finding comfort only through rubbing the small swell of your stomach, all of this was for them. It did not matter how you felt, as long as Toshinori and this child could continue living on, it would all be worth it.

‘Do it for them.’

Those words pushed you through the hellish ensuing months. 

From the cold nights sitting homeless in the streets desperate to find rest to signing a lease on a dilapidated studio apartment. From anguished job searching and inevitably failing due to awaiting international credit transfers to suiting up once again ready to hit the streets for patrol. From anonymous women's health clinics being subjected to hours of lecturing on the danger of continuing this path to the announcement of his gender. From redesigning your suit to hide the growing bump to taking a ‘leave of absence’ as your baby boy prepares to make his debut. From the broken amniotic sac to pushing alone. From your crying to his as he was birthed into the world. 

Through all the pain and hardship, you forged a new life for them. 

To some you were Siren, a young Japanese hero who decided to adventure out into America for the thrill of crime fighting. To others you were (y/n) (y/l/n) the single mother who worked overtime just to put food on the table. A double life. 

Determined to make it work you pushed yourself above and beyond, plus ultra, for them.

It’s been years since you left, two to be exact. Yet he still caught himself coming home in the early hours of the morning after a long night of crime fighting in his sleep deprived and battered state expecting you to be curled up in your shared bed asleep. Sometimes he’d instinctively open the microwave expecting a plate of dinner you always left out for him. Only to stare blankly into the appliance, the rotating plate stained with splats of dried noodles and spilled soup from his countless cups of instant ramen. Any hints of your cooking lost in the charred remains. 

He’d just go to bed hungry, not like he had much of a stomach anyways. 

The oversized costume slid off his boney shoulders with ease plopping into a heap on the floor. He did not bother to hang it up. Without you there to cook and badger him into eating actual meals coupled with already being on a downhill slide post injury his physic deteriorated drastically. Outside of flexing to be All Might he was skin and bones, any muscle or stored fat had eroded rapidly.

The bed was, as always, abandoned. Sheets still crumpled and thrown to the floor from when he had previously rolled out hours ago. Feeling far too large, too cold, too… empty; He lay awake, insomnia plagued.  Even before your relationship he struggled to rest, now without you to coax him into laying down and calming his mind within your arms he slipped back into old habits. More often than not he laid in silence, mind wandering into the abyss of what ifs. Either the phone or computer were his only distractions, though they only fueled his obsession. 

“Holy shit!” The live feed cellphone footage currently playing on his computer had his full attention. 

Toshinori watched, his hand gripped tight into a white knuckled fist. Eyes locked onto the computer screen volume blaring through the speakers. The flashing brightness from the screen illuminates the darkened room. He’d been keeping a close watch on any and all of your heroic activities since you had left for the states. He initially told himself it was for ‘research purposes’ that the agency could somehow possibly benefit from this. But deep down he knew it was simply for his own mental stability. He’d search your hero's name, sometimes your personal name. Though any of your true accounts which you managed had been privatized, he was removed as a follower long ago, he still checked. 4am in Japan meant 12pm for you, he could almost always catch live feed of either interviews or street footage of a battle. If not, the latest articles or reruns would have to work. His go to being your first interview.

‘Just a few minutes’ he’d tell himself, a lie of course. He always ended up doom scrolling, anything to avoid the inevitable void of his own mind. He knew he should not be so invested; he should have let you leave and cut all ties. But his need to know of your well-being had a mind of its own. Even the most minute of detail never lost on needy eyes. From your confusing costume redesign debut to the media’s comments on your weight gain and even the fan-made blogs; he absorbed it all. He distinctly remembered a time when he thought he’d lost you, when it had been announced that you’d taken a leave of absence. Fearful that he had lost his only way of seeing you he asked his entrusted ally and friend David Shield to keep tabs on you. It was bordering on stocking, yet he had to know. David reassured him, offered an open ear and allowed the broken man to voice his woes. However, at the mention of therapy he swiftly declined, he did not have time for such nonsense. He’d be okay, as long as he knew you were. Sympathetic to his friend's bleeding-heart David agreed.

It was wrong but he could not stop. 

Definitely not now. 

Tuning into another live feed a man holding a cellphone ran through the debris field. A large-scale attack had left the bodies of both civilians, heroes, and villain's littering the ground. Some crushed with rubble others fallen in combat, the scene resembled an old war movie. The camera man's labored breath puffed against the recording as he crossed no man's land. Occasionally zooming in when recognizing a body with a slew of swears. Crouching down behind mounds of concrete he steadied the phone to face the ensuing battle. 

You were the last one standing. 

Already taking out four smaller opponents, fatigue begged your body to retreat. Yet as the man before you stood strong any hope of rest would have to wait. With smooth, languid swipes of his fists you struggled to defend. Their combat style was telling that they were trained and trained well. As well as their quirk, whatever it was it somehow allowed him to withstand several of your ear-piercing cries and punch with enough force to crater the ground. Some kind of enhancement.

Whoever this was, they were strong and clearly outclassed you.

You were not a close combat-based hero, your quirk worked better at distance. But as he continued advancing the unavoidable fist fight ensued. Sweat beaded down your forehead, heart pounding and chest heaving. 

Overuse of your quirk and the never-ending bursts of evasions were pushing your already exhausted body past its limits. He had managed to graze you a couple times, even mostly dodged, the attacks crushed the bones beneath. Swallowing back a thick mouth full of blood you pushed harder. 

“You heroes are nothing more than slaves to the government. Cogs in the machine.” Whipping his body around with full force his left fist slammed into your defensive body. You smirked, 

‘Finally!’ He had used this exact move pattern two times before. ‘Left jab, advance then he’ll try to swing again.’  You were finally beginning to memorize his fighting style. 

On the offense you began targeting his unguarded areas. Opening your mouth, you launched a screech to flinch and stagger him. Then began landing crucial blows. Even if it could not directly damage him the cries force still allowed much needed leverage. Though weak, in quick succession your punches would break down his defense. Just had to keep it up. If you kept staggering him with your quirk and chipping away, you could win. Even though your throat burned, and thick hot liquid again pooled into your mouth you had to push through it. It will heal eventually. 

Toshinori smiled, seeing you succeed filled his chest with bittersweet pride. This was unlike anything he’d seen you involved in over the years. A true brawl, much like his own encounters.

You got too cocky.

A fatal mistake. 

As you rushed to attack again the foe had grabbed your fist mid punch in one hand. With a tightening grip the fragile ulnar and radius bones snapped. 

He too had memorized your predictable pattern. 

‘How.. How'd he grab me? I thought he was at least a li-’

It happened within milliseconds; with unyielding strength he slung your body forward as if you weighed nothing and into his other hand aimed right at your abdomen. The steeled fingertips pierced through the soft skin with a sickening snap and pop. Obliterating through the organs and protruded out of your back. 

“NO” Toshi’s desperate scream was drowned out by your horrifying cry echoing through the speakers. The sounds bounced off the walls and pounding into his eardrums.  

This was unlike anything he’d heard from you before. He was accustomed to your ultrasonic cries as that was your quirk, but this… this was from deep within your soul, screaming in excruciating agony. 

You had fallen into the foe's trap. One move out of place, one misjudged situation, and now the villain's hand had practically disemboweled you. 

Toshinori’s smile had vanished, and his heart fell through his partially removed stomach. His mouth now hung open in shock. He could do nothing but watch as your face twisted and contorted in pure torture as the scream howled through your body. He felt queasy.

You could not move, held in place, speared, in shock. Your scream died out and with what little energy it had left your body convulsed and flinched against the intruder. Until it inevitably gave up, slumping onto the villain, your forehead falling to his collar. The amount of fluid pouring from your lips and nose ran like a river coating his chest. Black gripped the edges of your vision; it was getting harder to breathe.

You always imagined that when you died, you’d be held by someone you loved, to hear their heartbeat against your ear, their breaths falling down on your face in soothing comfort. Instead, the man ending it all stared down at you, a twisted smile on his face as he took great pleasure in your suffering.

Glancing over with dazed vision your eyes made contact with the small group of citizens huddled together. A little girl stood out amongst the crowd, Clutching onto the pant leg of her mother. Her face dirty and bloodied with tears stained her puffy cheeks, she shook in terror. No child should have to witness such atrocities. No child should fear for their life. No child should be without their mother.

You are a HERO goddamit. You must fight until your last breath. You CANNOT give up. 

For her.

For these people. 

DO IT FOR THEM .

Adrenaline coursed through your veins; the once mind shattering pain dulled into a distant buzz. Reaching both hands up you grabbed the shocked villain's head and pushed yourself forward, now face to face. Sucking in air you filled your lungs to the point of bursting and expelled the strongest ultrasonic scream you could belt. Bits of bloodied flesh, most likely parts of your larynx, sprayed along the sound waves. Yet there was no pain.

Any window within the five-block radius shattered, and car alarms blew. The phone camera Toshinori watched from vibrated and quality blurrely faltered.  Even if this villain had a resistance to your quirk at such point blank range nothing could withstand such raw power. His eardrums shattered and head felt on the verge of bursting. Capillaries shattered and skin threatened to tear from bones.

Letting go of his now limp body he fell backwards. The hand forcefully dislodged from your abdomen as he collapsed in a convulsing heap. He would never recover from this injury, you’ll surely have a strike on your license for this… if you survive.

Your body waved and staggered, stumbling to find solid footing. The adrenaline was running out, so was time.

The crowds remained silent, staring in awe and horror as you finally stood straight. The gaping hole ripped through your torso threatened to spill your internal organs, a few weeping strands hung loose. With one hand you attempted to cover it, the feeling of your own entrails squishing within your hand was unable to process. Out of body. 

Shaking but standing, your other arm slowly lifted, spasming you held it above your head, fist clenched. A pose many had come to know and love. A symbol of victory. 

‘My pose’… 

As the cheers began you could not hold the dam within your throat, in a splattering cough the pavement ran with your blood. 

Slamming to your knees you fell, body going limp and falling face first into the soaked concrete. 

No, you cannot die now. 

Your son needs you. 

You need to get up.

You have to.

For

Them. 

Fighting away the cold that threatened to swallow you as long as possible with one final breath it consumed you in seconds. 

The bystander recording dropped his phone and ran away. Audible sobs snuffled as his heavy footsteps grew distant. The phone continued recording for over thirty minutes. Sounds of police sirens and support hero’s arriving at the scene could be heard in the background before the live stream abruptly ended, the battery ran dead. Toshinori could not look away even as the screen blackened. His mind spiraled, failing to realize what he had witnessed. 

Did he…

Did he just watch you die ? 

He needed someone there, now.

“David”

“I know I saw, I'm on my way”

Opening your eyes yet surrounded in darkness. A heavy weight placed over your face. Opening your mouth nothing more than rushed air escaped, something thick had lodged itself into your throat preventing the sound from escaping. Panicked, your hands began flailing, desperately trying to grab the foreign object. Grasping it you tugged, retching as it slid halfway out of your throat. Going for another tug until another set of hands gripped onto your arms, trying desperately to hold you down.

“Ma’am please calm down, you’re in-” 

You tried to yell, again garbled behind the plastic. Words could not form, your throat felt as if you had swallowed glass. With all your strength you whipped your head side to side, the device finally dislodged.

“You’re in a hospital, I’m a nurse. You’ve suffered life threatening injuries, please-”

Hot bloody saliva splattering across your bandaged face and trickling down to pool into your matted hair as you thrashed, Screaming loud echoes of broken sentences. Fragments of your quirk activating ricocheted round the room. As you continued thrashing, the feeling of something ripping within the depths of your abdomen gave birth to white hot pain. Only amplifying the howls.

The hands let go, a door opened and closed. A few moments passed before the sound of it repeated again. Heavy footsteps approached your bedside, followed by the sound of rusted wheels scraping against a hard floor.

“Ripped out the endotracheal. Incision site reopened.”. 

“It’s going to be okay,” An unfamiliar male voice called.

The world turned blank once again, sounds became distant, fading from consciousness.

“Can you hear me ma’am?” The world spun an endless loop of muted colors before shifting back to reality. The face of an unknown woman filled your vision, her deep skin wrinkled into a smile as she looked down to you. “My name is Natasha, I’m your nurse. I’m glad to see you’re finally awake!” 

She leaned away from your bedside and began typing on her laptop.

You did not try to reply, her words finally registering. Staring into the white painted wall your mind felt like a vast ocean of emptiness, all ships of thought crushed under the waves, except one. As if reading your mind the nurse glanced back down.

“You should not try to speak but, you’ve got a couple guests waiting on you, would you like to see them?” 

Your head whipped around, eyes burrowing into hers with silent pleases. She smiled. 

“I’ll go get them. Just be sure to keep the blanket above your chest, wouldn’t want to scare the little one.” 

The door opened and her footsteps trailed off. Lifting the blanket in curiosity the sight of several tubes entering the dressing covered gap parted in the once smooth skin of your abdomen filled you with horror. Before beginning to dwell on the marred sight footsteps returned, this time tiny shoes ran close behind. 

The one thing on your mind, the one person you needed most right now, ran through the door.

“MOMMA!” The child screamed, his small hands gripping at the sheets trying to climb into the bed with you. Your wrapped hand met his tiny set, rubbing gently at his smooth skin. 

“...en..o” You cried to him. His forehead wallowed into the white sheets, wiping his tears. Your heart felt heavy, seeing your once always smiling baby deduced to hysterics all because of you. His mother, his protector, did this to him. Guilt.

That was close. 

Too close. 

Never again. 

Your hero career is over.

They can fix you up, heal the broken bones and bruises, close up the wounds, but…

The thought of having actually died and leaving your four year old son to face this cruel world alone was far worse than the shame of such a public beat down. Far worse than even death itself. 

You can not do this anymore. 

The delusional thought that you could somehow live in the best of both worlds simply was impossible. Nana was right, balancing both was impossible. The life of a hero was your fantasy, but you had already lived it. Raising this child and being there for him was your new dream.

As of now, Siren is dead. She died on the concrete saving the people. At least that’s what was told to the media. 

To live a life free from that career you had to lay low. Uproot and leave again and start over. Abandon it. 

It had run its course.

A cough from the doorway caught your attention, looking over a man you had heard so much about from your former lover stood. His back leaned against the wall as he watched mother and son reunite. A face of penance drawn onto downcasted aqua eyes.

“We’ll talk later.” Taking a seat facing away from your bed he waited. 

‘ I can’t go back.’ The engineer looked from the yellow notepad held in your hands, the words on the page scribbled in haste, to the little boy sleeping beside you. Your son's hands clung to your gown, careful of the tubbing flowing from underneath, his under eyes dark and dried snot clung to his reddened skin. No child should feel this way.

“He’s Yagi’s isn’t he?”

You nodded ‘yes’. 

“Does he know?”

 Sighing deeply you shook ‘no.’

The brunet took in a deep breath, his head throbbing with the weight of his upcoming actions. Taking your notepad you wrote another note; ‘No one can know.’

“I know.”

The government could cover anything up. Falsifying documents was light work.

‘KIA’

The bold red letters under your hero name only caused the already endless black hole in Toshinori’s stomach to plummet deeper. With no reply from David, he had spent hours searching for an update, anything regarding your condition. News articles had reported on the gruesome scene yet held nothing in regard to your well being, instead focusing on the trauma such a sight made for civilians.The sun had already risen above the skyscrapers hours ago yet time held no meaning for him. 

Pulling out all the stops he tried to bypass all encryptions to read the full report the moment it had been posted. First as the head of the All Might Hero Agency, Yagi Toshinori.

Permission denied.  

Something wet hit his hands as he furiously kept typing, his fingers practically hammering the keys in half. 

Finally a new page loaded. As the world's number one symbol of peace, All Might, he could access almost anything relating to heroes. Several links loaded onto the page.

What he saw made him nauseous.

‘Postmortem Examination Report’ ‘Autopsy Report’ ‘Death Certificate’  

His hand had a mind of its own, shackly double clicking on a link . He refused to accept this.. 

‘it couldn’t be…’

He wished he hadn’t. Yet he could not go back.

‘ Autopsy Report conducted by; US FEDERAL GOVERNMENT DEPARTMENT OF FORENSIC SCIENCE.

Patient name: (y/n) (y/l/n) - Siren. Quirk; Voice

Manner of death; Homicide.

How Injury Occurred; Heroism.

Anatomical Summary:

Blunt Trauma.

Blunt trauma of head.

Multiple lacerations to face, scalp, and neck.

Multiple fractures of skull and face.

Evisceration of larynx.

Blunt Trauma of Chest and Abdomen, Fatal. 

Multiple fractures of ribs.

Traumatic injuries on the neck.

Evisceration of internal organs. Fatal. 

With both fists clenched he slammed them down on the keyboard. With a loud crack the hard plastic splintered, sending letter tiles flying. 

“God damnit!”

Toshinori shook, his body trembling. He’d read more than enough autopsy reports, yet he couldn’t hold back the vomit mixed blood that now lurched out of his mouth. Caring not as the mixture ran down his face and onto the desk. He heaved over and over until no more came.

He accepted the break up, he accepted you moving, he accepted that you were no longer in his life. But, accepting that you had died in battle? He couldn’t-wouldn’t. 

If he was stronger, if he had more time in his Might form he could’ve helped, could’ve done something, anything! Even if you were halfway across the world.

 if he just had more time…

If he had not driven you away…

If he had not…

He cried loud billowed sobs until his eyes burned red and his head woozy from dehydration.  

His phone rang, buzzing on the counter. The ringtone far too loud, too boisterous.

He didn’t have time to grieve. 

He had to pull himself together. 

The world stopped for no one,

And it still needed him.

This however could not stop the outbursts, the accidents, nor the mask from slipping from time to time. He felt as though he was losing his mind, not that it was completely sound before, but now more than ever he felt the edges of insanity encroaching. Try as he might to appear unfazed, Toshinori Yagi, All Might, was broken. 

Out in the streets until his body gave out, he on more than one occasion found himself failing to pull his punches, accidentally using far too much force to take down a villain. Landing convenience store robbers in the hospital for months of recovery with broken ribs and mangled appendages. 

The media was beginning to notice this shift in their symbol. He was losing control.

Inside the office was where a whole other beast was unleashed. Dozens of broken laptops and computer screens lined the recycling bins, destroyed in a moment of reminiscing. The long hours turned overnight as his caffeine intake and workload skyrocketed.  The cafe was his cesspool of self loathing, he drank coffee there almost as a form of torture at this point, each freshly brewed cup a slap in the face as the scent and scenery only reminded him of something that will never be again. 

He was truly a shell of his former self. Empty, Hollow, Broken.

[case-almost-closed]

Maybe in another life

Akai Shuichi x fem!reader Words: 2.5K A/N: Not really satisfied with this one but it won't get better

It was a beautiful day. The sky was bright blue, a pleasant light breeze was blowing through the warmed but still bearable streets and the sun was shining so brightly that not even the tinted windows of the car you were sitting in could dampen it. It was a perfect day all round and it couldn't have been more out of place.

For several minutes now, the car had been parked on the side of the road with its engine switched off, waiting for its drivers to leave, but you seemed to be trapped in a trance, unable to break free. Children and their families passed by the side of the road, laughing and playing with their parents, older couples walked slowly and leisurely hand in hand and several young couples clung to each other arm in arm, seemingly inseparable.

The sight of them drove a knife into your heart, which you had been convinced could no longer feel anything. After another couple walked past your window, carefree and happy, you couldn't take it any longer and turned your gaze forward. This caught the attention of your driver, who was looking at you through the rear-view mirror.

"Are you ready?" You lowered your gaze to your hands, which you had wrapped in black gloves to match the rest of your outfit. "No." Your voice sounded rough and hoarse, torn apart from crying and screaming, but neither you nor he cared. "But I don't think I'll ever be ready Andre."

The man nodded understandingly and got out, walked round the car and opened the door for you, holding out a hand to help you out, which you gratefully accepted. It might not have been the case yet, but you weren't sure if you would be able to walk all the way. Andre closed the door behind you and held out his arm so that you could hook yourself in.

"Let me know if you don't want any more, will you?" Shakily, you exhaled and clung to the FBI agent's arm, because right now it was the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the floor in a crying puddle.

Slowly, step by step, rather than accompanying you, Andre led you to the entrance of the cemetery and with every step you took towards the cruel reality, your heart grew heavier and heavier and tears welled up in your eyes again, even though you had been sure you had none left. Oh, what you would give to travel back in time just to feel his arms around you one last time, to see his little smile and hear the oh-so-rare laugh he sometimes gave you.

You had spent the entire flight from America to Japan in silence, immersed in memories, as if they were bringing him back to you. You could still remember the exact moment when you received that fateful phone call.

Even before James had spoken the words that were forever engraved in your heart, you had known that your husband would never come back to you, you had heard it in how softly and calmly James had spoken and yet he too had sounded choked with tears. You could still remember the feeling of all the air being squeezed out of your lungs and were still able to feel the scratch in your throat from the scream you had let out.

And even here, in Japan, you hadn't been able to do much more. Most of the time Andre, and sometimes Jodie, had sat next to you, either on the sofa, the bed or the floor, while you had burst into tears, rocking yourself back and forth and telling yourself that it couldn't be true. He couldn't be dead. He'd been through so much already, he'd hardly die from one lousy bullet. And yet he had done just that. Akai Shuichi had left his life through a bullet, an object he could handle like no other, and had taken yours with him.

You had put it off for as long as possible and yet you couldn't put it off any longer: You had to visit your husband's grave at least once to say goodbye to him - even if you hadn't been able to attend the funeral. So, with a voice choked with tears, you called Andre Camel, who arrived at your door a short time later to pick you up. And you were grateful for him. Andre had always been a loyal and good friend to you and you knew that Shuichi had made him promise to look after you if anything happened to him. He didn't push you, was patient and gentle and more than once you had caught him with a few tears rolling down his cheek. Andre Camel may look big and scary, but deep down he was a gentle soul with a heart of pure gold.

He slowly led you past the graves and you felt like you couldn't breathe. You knew Andre was looking at you with concern, but you smiled narrowly at him, hoping to reassure him. It didn't really work. "We're almost there, almost there," he murmured to you and you could feel panic rising inside you. You weren't ready for this yet, not ready to face the reality that yes, Akai Shuichi was dead and he wasn't coming back. Andre seemed to sense what was going on inside you and slowed his pace. "Do you need more time?" You gasped and looked down at the ground, hoping to catch your breath, and shook your head. "No. If I stop now, I'll never make it." That was all you could force out from between your teeth, but it was enough for him.

Andre nodded slightly and patted your hand gently and understandingly, leading you further down the path. The gravel crunched under your feet, but all you could concentrate on was your pounding heart and the tears that were burning in your eyes and threatening to spill over. All of a sudden Andre stopped and you stiffened instantly, your gaze fixed stubbornly on the tips of your feet. You were there. Your breathing quickened. You were not ready, but as you had already explained to your companion, there would never be a moment when you would be truly ready. And yet, you had never found anything as difficult as lifting your eyes and looking down at the gravestone at your feet.

It was a plain, black stone with not much engraved on it. The dates of his life. The words "A friend, spouse and great man." A quote. "Fear of death is worse than death itself." You knew it was from Shuichi, after all, he had said it to you often enough when you were worried about him. It didn't have his name on it, but someone had had some green stones set into it. Green, like his eyes. Now you couldn't hold back your tears any longer and allowed them to roll silently down your cheeks. "We left his name out. We didn't want his enemies to find out. Let him rest in peace."

Andre sounded more raspy than usual and when you looked up at him, you could see that the giant also seemed to be struggling with tears. You gently put your hand on his arm, only to let your head rest on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he sobbed quietly. "I shouldn't be crying, I should be standing by you. He was more important to you, but…" "Shhh," you mumbled, blinking as a tear got caught in your eyelashes. "Who are we to decide which connection, which relationship is more important? He meant something to you, just as he meant something to me. You have your right to grieve, Andre. We all do."

He nodded and sniffled before defiantly wiping the tears from his face. "I'll give you a moment, wait by the car. If you need anything, call me." You nodded and only after he hugged you tightly to him once more did he turn and leave.

Silently, you listened to his shoes digging into the gravel while your gaze was fixed on the surroundings. It was a little out of the way from most graves and set right under a cherry tree. It would be a pain to keep the grave clean, but you didn't care right now. It was quiet and peaceful and you knew Shuichi would have loved it.

Tears dripped onto the headstone as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut, forcing the tears to escape your eyes. "You idiot." Your voice was no more than a whisper. "You absolute moron. I told you 'Don't go to Japan'. I told you 'I have a bad feeling about this'. But did you listen to me? No. And look where that got you." You let out a teary, agonised laugh. "You promised to slow down, Shuichi. You had promised. For me. For us."

Suddenly you could no longer hold yourself up and fell to your knees, tearing your tights, but you didn't care. An irrepressible and irrational rage spread through you and suddenly you felt the need to scream out your frustration, your sadness and your fear so that the whole world would know about your suffering and would have to suffer with you. "YOU PROMISED!!!" Sobbing, you broke down and buried your face in your hands, more or less silently cursing and swearing at him.

In your mind's eye, the last moments you had with him danced over and over again.

"Don't worry," he had said and kissed you on the forehead. "It won't take long. And I promise, after that it really is over. After that, there will be no more overseas missions and dangerous assignments. After that, it's just you and me, just us. I promise." He had put his hand on your waist and moved his hands to your stomach.

It had been no secret that the two of you had considered starting a family and after this assignment, he would have been ready to settle down. Shuichi may not have seemed like a family man at first glance, but you knew better. And after the job, he had promised to devote himself entirely to his family. Except that there would be no 'after'.

You had run out of curses, which is why you were now just trembling in front of his grave. You had no tears left as you pressed your hands to your stomach and tried to suppress the nausea that was rising inside you. "It worked." Your voice was low and bitter and you knew he couldn't hear you, but you wanted him to hear it, so desperately. "We didn't have to keep trying, Shuichi. I am pregnant." The words hung heavy in the air. When you had held the positive test in your hand, you had been overjoyed and had already imagined Shuichi's surprised face. Two days later, James called you.

The thought of raising this child scared you like you had never felt before. You were alone and not sure if you could do it. But as you crouched in front of his grave, you knew that you would make it. If only for Shuichi's sake. This child was all you had left of him. "I will raise it, even if I have to do it without you. I know Andre and Jodie and maybe even James will help me. This child will be the most loved and protected child in the world, I promise you that."

Painfully, you closed your eyes. It was time to go. If you stayed any longer, you weren't sure if you would ever have the strength to stand up on your own.

Gently, you leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the gravestone. It must have looked ridiculous, but you didn't really care. "I love you Akai Shuichi. And I will see you again, even if I have to wait decades." You stood up with difficulty. You knew that Andre, who was the only one who knew about your pregnancy, would probably have preferred it if you had called him, but you were perfectly capable of doing it on your own. You turned round to face the grave one last time and for a moment you thought you saw a shadow out of the corner of your eye, but your subconscious must have been playing tricks on you. "See you soon, my love." You finally turned round and walked back to the car, one hand still pressed to your abdomen, where Andre was already waiting for you.

~**~ Shuichi heard you get into the car and drive away, however he was unable to move from behind the tree he had been hiding behind. He had only wanted to catch a glimpse of you before he went into hiding for good, but he hadn't expected it to be so hard to see you. He had heard you cursing and crying and he would have loved to come out, wrap his arms around you tightly and apologise for all the grief he had ever caused you. But he couldn't, not if he wanted to protect you, which is why he had leant silently behind the tree with tears in his eyes and listened to you.

And just when he had decided it was time to go, you dropped the bomb that pulled the rug out from under him and brought him to his knees. " I am pregnant." Three little words that were incredibly unimportant on their own, but together shifted his whole world. You were pregnant, carrying his child beneath your heart. At that moment, he almost let his guard down, only to regain his senses immediately afterwards. He had 'got himself killed' to protect you. If he were to reveal himself now, not only you but also your child would be in danger.

A risk he would never take. As much as it pained him to see you grieving, he realised all the more the importance of his mission. He now had one more reason to survive and to win. And these two reasons were enough for him to work himself to a real death. When he heard you murmur one last "I love you", he couldn't resist taking one last look at you. But at that very moment, you had turned to face him again and Shuichi wasn't sure if he had pulled his head away in time.

Although he was no longer Akai Shuichi, but Okiya Subaru, it didn't stop his heart from pounding in his throat, worried that you would go to him. He knew that if you stood in front of him and looked at him, he would no longer be able to resist.

You, however, didn't seem to have noticed him, but had walked on, away from him, and with every step the tear in his heart grew bigger. A single tear rolled down his cheek. "I promise you, love, I will come back. And then I won't leave your side, ever again." Shuichi exhaled and it was as if all the sadness and suffering had left his body with that breath.

Okiya Subaru pushed up his glasses and rose from the grass. He had an organisation to kill.

[itshype]

The Green Knight (DC x DP)

Ok listen...listen

In most batman canons Jason Todd dies. And I love exploring that through a DP lens buuuut....

In the batman "White Knight" series, Jason DOESN'T die. The Joker kidnaps him to get batman's secret identity and when Jason (after like days of torture iirc) finally gives it up, the Joker lets him go. Jason fakes his death and leaves Gotham.

Now I don't love the characterisation in this arc but just taking this scenario of Jason not having died but running away is so good in a DP au.

Like if Phantom joins the JLA a few months later and becomes close with Bruce and eventually Bruce asks if there's any way to check if Jason became a ghost and gives Phantom the details of his death. Danny checks with maybe clockwork or a recording and archival focused ghost and returns to report that there was no death for Jason Todd then. No death recorded for Jason Todd at all.

Alternatively, maybe Jason runs away to Amity Park, thinking no one would find him there and he joins as a human member of team Phantom.

So much potential!

[frozenoj]

[browneyesandhair]

Annabeth: Hello tall, dark, and handsome. Drink?

Percy: I don’t, actually.

Annabeth: More for me.

(continue reading on ao3)

[imitationgame77]

Musings on "(Faked/Temporary/Apparent) Death of A Significant Other" in Fiction

[Mentions contents from Network Effect (The Murderbot Diaries), Sherlock Holmes, BBC Sherlock, and House, M.D. (Season 8), Good Omens. So, potential spoiler]

Losing someone you love is probably the most traumatising experience that can change you forever. In "Life Change Index" by Holmes and Rahe which gives a score (max=100) that indicates how much stress a mojor/minor change in life causes. Since even potentially good change, like starting a new jow, can cause some stress, it includes both positive and negative life changes. But "Death of a Close Friend (37)", "Death of Close Family Member (63)" have high levels of stress, with "Death of Spouse" comes to the top with 100 points.

It is also stressful to experience loss vicariously through books, dramas, and films. Even when they are fictional. When it comes to a temporary loss, however, it is a different matter altogether, I think. I may go as far as to say we actively love it. Pain of loss, anguish, followed by joy of reuniting with the loved one - which we probably do not get to experience (even vicariously) in real life.

The most classic example of "turned out to be actually alive!" is, Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle. Holmes leaves a farewell letter to Watson, with forensic? traces indicating he fell into the Reichenbach Falls with Moriarty. Watson being a Victorian gent, he does not describe how he fell to pieces. But when Holmes dramatically re-emerges 3 years later, Watson promptly faints. Then

Watson is delighted! He does not seem to mind that Holmes had led him to believe that Holmes was dead for 3 years, without a single note to say otherwise.

In BBC Sherlock, John Watson living in the 21st century was not so stoic in his response. At Sherlock's "death", John first fell to pieces, requiring him to go to see a therapist where he admits that Sherlock was his best friend. When Sherlock reappears with awkward cheerfulness, John punches him in the face after recovering from the initial shock. And stays very angry for a while, feeling betrayed by having been left to grieve for so long (2 years).

In House M.D., which is basically a medical drama version of Sherlock Holmes, with his best friend James Wilson, House also fakes his death. At his funeral, everybody tries to say something nice about House, but Wilson, angry with grief, calls him arrogant, accuses him for never caring for his friends. Then, gets a text message from House, "SHUT UP YOU IDIOT". House had to go to jail over petty crime for 6 months, when Wilson had only 5 months to live due to cancer. House sacrificed the rest of his career to spend the rest of Wilson's life together.

In Good Omens (Netflix version), when Aziraphale got inconveniently disincorporated, Crowley falls to pieces. Giving up on the idea of running away from Armageddon, he tries to drown his sorrow with drinks. When Aziraphale manages to find him there, Crowley immediately notices and gets delighted, even though Aziraphale was still without body and invisible.

~~~~~

The point I think I am getting to here is that "apparent death of a character, followed by a sort of resurrection" seems to be done in fictional creations when the said temporarily-deceased-one has a significant other that would take us (reader/audience) through anguish, followed by almost painful joy.

Thus, it makes sense to me that in Network Effect, it is Perihelion (aka ART) that would make the protagonist Murderbot go through grief by its apparent death. (Well, it was a death, for a while.) Obviously, MB would be devastated if it lost any of its humans. It cares for the PreservationAux colleagues deeply. But in addition to the fact that it would be a lot harder to resurrect a human (augumented or not) in a story later, it had to be ART, because as the author herself said in her interview, it is probably 'the love of Murderbot's life'.

It is noteworthy to say that MB itself did not give name to its emotional experience, because it probably did not know except that it was a very strong, very negative emotions. Its instant hatred towards those who killed ART and subsequent crippling grief become apparent to the readers through what Amena notices. Its pain is strong and raw, so much that even when MB is simply saying, Ugh, emotions, we feel its grief. And when finally we get to the part with:

All the lights in the control area went dark, then blinked back to life. Simultaneously all the display surfaces around me flickered, went to blank, then flashed reinitialization graphics.

And ART's feed filled the ship. In the pleasant neutral voice that systems use to address humans, it whispered, Reload in progress. Please stand by.

[ ..... ]

Then ART's voice, ART's real voice, filled the feed. It said, Drop the weapon.

Relief and joy we experience is almost heart-skippingly painful. Even though MB's response is more BBC Sherlock's John than the original John Watson, we know how much it must mean to MB. I re-listened/re-read that part at least 10 times.

It is also worth noting that ART also seems to love "pain of loss followed by joy of reunion/resurrection". In Artificial Condition, when a major character died in Worldhoppers, MB had to pause seven minutes while ART sat there in the feed doing the bot equivalent of staring at a wall, pretending that it had to run diagnostics. Then when the character came back to life 4 episodes later, ART was so relieved that they had to watch that episode 3 times before going on!

After long ramblings, my conclusion is, temporaly death of a significant character in fiction is good. More significant the character to the character we can emphasize with, the more painful the loss, and more delightful the reunion. John Watson is the love of Sherlock Holmes's life. Aziraphale is Crowley's. ART is Murderbot's.

[depressed-werewolf]

The hero stood on villain’s doorstep a bouquet of flowers in hand. They offered the criminal a shy smile.

“Hi, Villain.”

Villain could do nothing but stare at them in shock.. “You… you’re alive.”

[clemsfilmdiary]

Double Jeopardy (1999, Bruce Beresford)

1/10/24

[true-blue-megamind]

I have a question/theory. No one besides Roxanne and Megamind knows that Metro Men is actually still alive. For all everybody else knows Megamind still murdered their hero.

Of course, Megamind saved them from Titan, and made amends by returning everything he stole and fixing the destroyed city but it still was all directly or indirectly his fault.

This brings me to my next point. No one except Megamind, Roxanne, Minion, and Hal himself knows that Titan was ''created'' by our favorite blue alien.

Do you think people might be angry when they somehow find out the truth? Maybe some Metro Man fanboy or fangirl will want to avenge the fallen hero?

Or are we to assume that people are just stupid and shallow and are just happy to have a new hero? Because if that's the case it's kind of sad from Metro Man's perspective. People only liked him because of his powers and looks. What do you think?

MEGAMIND FAN THEORY THURSDAY: Do People Think Megamind is a Murderer?

It’s time again for another Megamind Fan Theory! Special thanks, once again, to our unnamed contributor! Apparently, Anonymous is my biggest fan! LOL!

And now, even though Metroman threatens to frame me next every time I say it: SPOILER WARNING!

If you’ve seen the movie Megamind—and I sincerely hope you have—you already know that one of the biggest ways the film subverts common superhero tropes is by having the Bad Guy apparently win. Of course, we all know that Metroman didn’t really die in the Death Ray blast, but the question is: do people in Metro City know it, too? After all, most or all of the citizenry thought they saw their former hero perish on a live stream. Do they, therefore, still believe their new Defender is guilty of murder? And if so, shouldn’t that affect the way they perceive him? There are entire reams of fan theories examining such questions. Let’s jump into a few of the most popular!

It’s Almost Certain Some People Know Metroman is Alive

The first fan theory centers on the simple fact that Megamind is not locked away in a high-security prison. His ability to take up the mantle of Defender and move about the city freely indicates that he very probably received a full pardon. That brings up the question of whether defeating one supervillain would truly be enough to counteract a first-degree murder charge and eighty-three live sentences. Most fans say no, leading to the supposition that there must have been some sort of trial and subsequent pardon. As a result, many believe that some high-ranking government officials and judges, at least, must be aware that Metroman remains very much alive.

They may not be the only ones. Another popular concept among fans is that Megamind’s reality, like the comics it lampoons, could boast a wide variety of heroes and villains. (It’s not a far fetched assumption; as mentioned in Where Did the Doom Syndicate Come From, we know that there are supposed to be other supervillains in Megamind’s world. It therefore seems probable that there would be other superheroes as well.) In fact, more than a few fans subscribe to the headcanon that a heroic organization exists, offering mutual support and help to caped protectors as needed. Over time, the Megamind fandom has invented several potential titles for this group. One of my personal favorites is the Defenders’ League—a name which plays on DC Comics’ Justice League and thus maintains the original film’s spirit of toying with existing superhero tropes. For the sake of simplicity, that is how I will refer to this association.

Why am I bringing it up? As you may have guessed, many fans theorize that at least some members of the Defenders’ League know their former compatriot didn’t really meet his end. However, there are differing opinions upon exactly how many of them are aware of this fact. Some suggest that Defenders, like their Justice League counterparts, are likely cognizant of a great number of each others’ secrets, up to and including their identities and hideouts. They argue that it therefore seems reasonable to assume most or all of the League would have been apprised of the Metroman situation. As possible evidence, supporters of this theory point to the fact that other heroes aren’t coming out of the proverbial woodwork to avenge their supposedly fallen comrade.

Nonetheless, others disagree. The second—and possibly more popular—supposition is that, while a few leaders within the Defenders’ League know the truth, others may be in the dark. Those who prefer this concept argue that Metroman’s abandonment of his duties would almost certainly have been frowned upon, adding that the former hero would likely have found himself either faced with some sort of disciplinary action or pressured into taking up the role of protector for a new city. After all, such powerful Defenders can hardly be common, and it seems extremely doubtful that Superhero is a job one could easily quit. Indeed, during discussions with other fans such as CrazyDreamer6, the possibility has arisen that other Defenders may initially neither like nor trust Megamind. It’s even been suggested that an especially antagonistic hero or two might attempt to sabotage the blue man’s efforts, believing their action to be either punishment for Metroman’s alleged fate or a means to uncovering Megamind as a presumed fraud.

Whatever the case may be, all of this still does not necessarily mean that the general public would be privy to Metroman’s continued existence. It’s highly unlikely that the Defenders’ League would make that fact widely known even if they were all privy to it. (Imagine the backlash and potential public relations nightmare that might ensue if people realized a Defender had simply walked off the job!) Furthermore, another Megamind fan theory suggests that, as a former supervillain, the blue man’s hearing may have been far more similar to a military tribunal than a civilian court case. This is important because it means the Megamind’s trial may have been far less public and far more secretive. Some argue that this indicates it’s unlikely most ordinary citizens would be aware that Metroman’s supposed murder was proved to be a farce. People would certainly be aware that he had been pardoned, but they might not know all of the reasons why.

Would Metroman Even Want His “Death” to Be Questioned?

This is where another Megamind fan theory comes into play. Some contend that, even if various officials did not choose to disclose it, citizens may have become aware that Metroman was alive because he himself may have told them. In several fictions, the former Defender is portrayed as coming forward, announcing his official retirement, and sometimes even helping his new blue replacement to learn the ropes. Such would definitely be the noble, honest thing to do—and aren’t those two traits superheroes are supposed to personify? Besides, many fans also point out that there appears to be an odd friendship between Megamind and his rival. There seems to have been a “time out” agreement, indicating that their battles may have been more like games and public shows. Additionally, Metroman calls the blue super-genius “Little Buddy.” That hardly seems like a sincerely antagonistic relationship. So it’s conceivable that the former Defender might have come forward to clear his replacement’s name.

Many fans, however, argue that such a thing may not have been possible for the same reasons that the majority of the Defenders’ League may not have been informed. It doesn’t seem particularly likely that people would react well to learning that their trusted and beloved local hero had left them in the hands of a know supervillain so that he go start a music career. Furthermore, it’s possible that the former Defender could have been harassed by rising villains eager to prove their worth as well city governments desperate for a hero of their own. Nonetheless, many suggest that Wayne Scott may have had excellent reasons for hanging up his cape. In the post Why Did Metroman Retire, we examined evidence that Metro City had become too dependent upon having a superpowered Defender around, leading to laxness in law enforcement and constant demands on the white-clad alien. (For example, one unused storyboard shows police refusing to assist in even a small way because they are “on break” as well as an old woman calling for Metroman’s help because she can’t open a jar.) As a result, the former hero may have become not only disenchanted with his role, but also stressed, exhausted, and mentally strained. Some have even proposed that he may have been nearing a breakdown, making his decision to quit a necessary one for his psychological health.

This leads to a supposition which answers one of our anonymous contributor’s questions. Many believe that, if most people still believe Metroman to be dead, it is because the former hero himself wants it that way. Far from being sorrowful about others’ reactions to his supposed demise, he may feel relieved. Imagine the guilt he might experience if people continued to mourn him or harmed Megamind because they believed he was guilty. Keep in mind that, as discussed in previous blog articles, we see the young Wayne Scott being essentially groomed to become a superhero during the school scene. (You can read more about that in the aforementioned post as well as The Warden.) Thus it seems likely that Metroman may not want his faked death to be disbelieved because he feels being supposedly dead is the only way to free himself from the role he was pushed into from childhood.

However, the choice may not have been up to him. There are some competing Megamind fan theories concerning whether or not the general public would believe Metroman was truly gone. Interestingly, both are based upon the character’s inspirations.

The first supposition points to the fact that Metroman is a clear parody of Superman. Clark Kent, as many of you likely know, hides his alternate identity by donning ordinary clothes and a pair of glasses. Some fans contend that, if Megamind’s reality functions similarly to the DC universe, then it’s unlikely Music Man would ever be recognized as being a former Defender. After all, if eyewear is enough to make Superman unrecognizable, then growing a beard would certainly do the trick. Others, however, dispute this, saying that while Clark Kent puts a great deal of effort into maintaining his persona as a quiet newspaper journalist, purposefully fading into the background as much as possible, Wayne Scott’s choice of career—rock star—puts him squarely in the public eye. Making himself the center of attention significantly increases his chances of being recognized.

The second fan theory draws on the other major influence of Metroman: Elvis Presley. As covered in Why Does Megamind Wear Black, the King of Rock and Roll inspired everything from Metroman’s look to the song he plays at his museum opening. Some have expanded upon this to suggest that people may have reacted similarly to the former hero’s supposed demise as they did to that of Elvis. For decades following Presley’s funeral, many of his fans insisted that he was not really dead and Elvis sightings popped up all over the place. Could Metroman’s dedicated aficionados have done the same, claiming to catch glimpses of their icon? If so, some of them were probably right. In short, it’s quite plausible that many citizens may not have believed Metroman was really deceased no matter what they had been told.

Psychology and Superheroes

What about those who actually do believe the former Defender to be gone? Given what we’ve discussed so far, it seems reasonable to suppose that there may be more than a few who fall into this category. If so, wouldn’t they be furious that Megamind could, apparently, commit murder on live TV and still not only get away with it but also be hailed as a hero? To answer that, let’s delve into a little psychology.

According to an article by Dr. Charlie Ebersole on Psychology Today, hero worship can be complicated and potentially problematic. When we look up to someone, we have a tendency to view them differently. “Heroes can be great,” Ebersole explains. “They can inspire us to be better versions of ourselves. However, they can also blind us to their faults.” Just as people were happy to overlook Metroman’s frankly braggartly behavior—just look at the museum opening scene near the beginning of the movie and you’ll see what I mean—they may be willing to forget about Megamind’s shaded past. Some might even make peace with the supposed blood on his hands if they looked up to him enough, and given that he literally saved the entire city from death and destruction, that’s not beyond the realm of possibility. To quote novelist Terry Pratchett, “You can be excused for just about anything if you are a hero because no one asks inconvenient questions.”

It doesn’t stop there, however, because Megamind isn’t only a hero, he’s also a celebrity. Another article, this one from Long Island Psychology, addresses how fame affects the way we perceive people. Society sometimes makes greater allowances for those who are well-known icons. For example, celebrities sometimes receive less severe punishments for infractions than an average citizen might. Of course, people can also judge those they admire very harshly, feeling a sense of betrayal any time that individual doesn’t live up to the nearly perfect standards they have created for them. However, if that same public feels they are getting enough out of their perceived parasocial relationship with a celebrity, they may entirely overlook any bad behavior. The article states that “even if their actions have run counter to their public persona or were illegal in some way, some celebrities are still able to overcome the backlash they may face.”

This really comes down to three things: the aforementioned parasocial relationship, charisma, and marketing. (Yes, I said marketing. We’ll get to that in just a moment.) Firstly, as I’ve said, Megamind saved Metro City, and it’s frankly doubtful whether most of its citizens know that Titan was the result of a misjudgment on the blue man’s part to begin with. (I think it’s also important to mention here that Megamind certainly didn’t want to create a dangerously superpowered man-child and seemed sincerely distraught when Titan turned evil. He truly thought the human was destined for heroism. You can read more about that in Why Did Megamind Choose Hal.) Regardless, the fact is that many citizens of Metro City owe the blue man their lives and presumably enjoy his continued protection. Thus it’s obvious that they are definitely getting a lot out of the parasocial relationship.

Secondly, it can’t be denied that Megamind is charismatic. He knows how to put on a good show and play to a crowd. (Just look at the scene where he finally becomes the new Defender if you want proof.) Furthermore, as seen throughout the movie, Megamind can be charming, funny, and kind. It’s hard not to like the alien genius, and that has likely helped him to win over the masses. The fact that he sincerely cares about the city and all its people, as evinced by the fact that he chose to overcome Titan rather than fleeing, probably helps as well. People often instinctively know when someone legitimately has their best interests at heart.

Finally, there is the marketing aspect to consider. That may sound a little odd, but hear me out. The aforementioned article states: “some celebrities are forgiven by the media, and the media’s reaction to the event shapes the future. If the celebrity is still placed in front of you on a daily basis and placed in a positive light, it becomes easier to forget about their past.” Essentially, it is possible to market a person, rebranding them in a more favorable light. This is important for two reasons. Firstly, as I said before, Megamind clearly cares about the people around him. That doubtlessly makes him a dedicated and earnest Defender, and people are likely to recognize that. Additionally, if they also see him performing acts of heroism in the media over and over again, that will have a natural effect on the way they perceive him.

Speaking of media, the second aspect of this is the simple fact that Megamind is clearly romantically involved with Roxanne Ritchi, and she happens to be a well-known television news journalist. She’s also one of the very few people whom we know for certain is aware that Megamind didn’t really murder Metroman. (In fact, according to the DVD commentary, he always went out of his way not to physically harm anyone even while he was a supervillain. The creators describe him engaging in no worse than theft and vandalism during his brief tenure as “Evil Overlord,” as well as staging his plots in unpopulated areas. Even his preferred setting on his De-Gun, Dehydrate, is nonlethal.) One popular fan theory suggests that, because Roxanne knows all of this and because she loves Megamind, she may have helped to sway public opinion in his favor. Furthermore, it’s plausible that, as a reporter, she may not have been able to pass up a juicy scoop like Metroman faking his own death. However, many fans believe that, if her lover and his former nemesis asked her to keep it quiet, she would. Either way, she would certainly have the skills and opportunities necessary to help Megamind “market” his new image. Of course, this doesn’t mean that it’s not possible some people would still dislike and distrust the Blue Defender, but it would certainly help him to be better accepted.

So, are there people in Metro City who still believe Megamind is guilty of murder? It’s possible, though that may depend on whether Metroman or government officials were willing to let the truth come out. Could such an assumption color the way he is viewed? It most certainly could. However, it’s also likely that even some of those who did believe in the blue man’s guilt may have gradually come to forgive him, especially since he was likely pardoned. Still, most agree that the answer is probably a combination of all of the above ideas, and suppose that the former villain may have to work through some complicated public relations issues in his early days as Defender. Perhaps the upcoming series, Megamind’s Guide to Defending Your City, will shed new light on that. Until then, we have plenty of fan theories to choose from! That ends this post! Thank you for reading this week’s Megamind Fan Theory Thursday!

[abybweisse]

Hey Aby,

How are you doing? I hope you are well.

I had a random thought when reading the Easter special chapter (I cannot remember the number). Grey says to Sebastian 'you weren't dead after all' which I find a bit strange considering what we know about Grey. He said a few times he is not scared of anything he can cut with his sword and that he is afraid of ghosts, spirits etc. Considering he was the one that stabbed Sebastian I would have expected him to be a bit more concerned about Sebastian being alive. I feel like they brushed over this a bit too easily. I can understand why it works with the other servants (although I think that was forced as well) but it makes no sense for Grey.

What are your thoughts? Apologies if this was answered already, I had a look but I could not find anything.

Regarding ch66, Frenzy

I also think it's odd that Charles Grey isn't terribly concerned that Sebastian isn't dead. I don't have a licensed copy handy right now, because I boxed them up! (What was I thinking? I should have boxed them last.) But doesn't Sebastian just laugh it off? Or Tanaka laughs? 🤷🏻‍♀️

Since Grey saw him "dead", he either thinks it's odd but possible that Sebastian survived, after all.

Or he has quickly learned there are things he cannot kill with his sword....

I wish this encounter had been explored some more, too.

[callaeidae3]

Whumptober2023 Day 8/9: "İt's all for nothing" | "You're a liar"

A combined prompt for the last two days!

This is both Kyle and Minharh grieving their lost father-son relationship, lost through Minharh's own faked death.

For Kyle, it's a betrayal of trust, and five years of enduring and adapting to a life without his dad (and only friend).

For Minharh, he knew he'd have to reveal his identity to Kyle at some point, if the ever reunited. But Kyle saw through his lies first.

This scene would fall right after the end of Chapter 1 in The Deliverance of Kyle Kindall (KK3)