#Mentions of the Subway system?

[thornsofrosesdumps]

making a Pokémon AU

(bout to fucking ruin Barry’s life, poor boy, Depression beam time.)

[helaintoloki]

Can I request something with Five Hargreeves where Five and Lilia gets back to their family after the 7 years (nothing romantic happened between them, just purely platonic), and when he sees the reader for the first time after almost loosing so much hope in seeing her again, he just can’t help but latch onto her and never let go, kissing her all over cause he finally gets to see the love of his life again :,D

a/n: ty for sending in this request anon i really enjoyed writing it <3 this is basically the “good ending” of the subway incident

warnings: fluff, mentions of five and lila but in a platonic way not the bad way

His lungs feel like they’re on fire as Five pushes himself to continue his sprint to your apartment. It’s been seven years without you, and after almost losing hope of ever seeing you again, all he wanted now was to have you in his arms as proof that he truly was back in his own timeline.

He never should have listened to Lila when she insisted on traveling the subway system in search of a solution to the Cleanse, but he had been desperate to find a way to keep you and his family safe no matter the cost. He didn’t mind having to eat subway rats and sleep in flimsily sleeping bags on dirty platforms for your sake, but with no end in sight the entire thing began to seem futile. What good was putting himself through torture if he could never go back home to you?

Thus, when he found the journal that detailed the way back home, Five did not hesitate to jump on the next subway car and return back to his own timeline. He didn’t feel sorry for practically shoving Lila out of the way as soon as the doors opened, and he didn’t waste a second waiting for her to follow before he was booking it out of the station and down the streets to your apartment. While it would have been faster to just jump there, he didn’t want to risk accidentally placing himself right back where he started, and he didn’t have the patience to wait for Lila to find a car and drop him off herself. Seeing you could not wait, and so he ran.

Though Five has experienced seven painful years of being stuck with Lila in the subway, only four hours have passed since you last spoke to him on the phone to discuss your evening plans. He was meant to be at your apartment thirty minutes ago so you could enjoy a lovely dinner at a nice restaurant, and yet here you were sitting painfully board at your kitchen island watching the minutes tick by. You knew he wasn’t exactly keen on eating out when he’d rather stay at home and spend quality time with you, but surely he wouldn’t stoop so low as to miss your date entirely.

“Screw this,” you huff in indigence as you snatch your keys from the counter and grab your previously discarded purse from its spot on the couch. “He’ll just have to meet me there.”

After putting on your coat, you fling the door open only to met with the sight of a breathless Five, his fist raised in the air as if he was about to knock before you beat him to it. He looks completely disheveled with his mussed up hair and wrinkled suit, his eyes blown wide as he swallows down a big gulp of air and takes in your features. You look more beautiful than he ever thought possible, and he can’t believe that he’s really here standing in front of you after being trapped in a time travel hellscape for seven years with his idiot brother’s idiot wife.

“Five?” You utter gently, brows furrowed in confusion and concern as you reach out to place a gentle hand upon his cheek. He’s warm to the touch, most likely a side effect from having sprinted for three blocks, but it worries you nonetheless. He nearly melts into your palm as his eyes flutter shut in contentment at the feel of your skin against his own. He’s missed this, and he’s missed you. “Where have you been, I was just about to leave without you. You okay?”

You jump at his sudden movement when Five practically throws himself into your arms. You lose your footing and tumble back into your apartment, and it takes you a moment to process what’s happening before you tightly return the embrace. You know Five loves you, but he’s never been so forward with affection like this, so his behavior takes you by surprise.

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been better,” he breathes out in relief as he takes in your warmth and your smell and your touch and everything good about you. He never thought he could miss anyone as much as he missed you, and Five swore in that moment he’d never take you for granted again.

“Are you sure you’re really my Five and not a total stranger?” You question teasingly, poking fun at his uncharacteristically tender behavior. While normally you would be met with a biting and sarcastic response in return, you are instead given a passionate kiss as he cups your face in his hands and desperately pulls you closer to him. Your startled gasp is swallowed by his lips as he deepens the kiss and pushes you further into the apartment before shutting the door with his foot.

“Five,” you manage to breathe out after he pulls away for air, your face hot and your mind frazzled as you struggle to comprehend the sequence of events that have just occurred. “Five, we’re going to be late.”

“I couldn’t care less,” he replies with a faint smile, reaching out to carefully tuck your hair behind your ear. “I missed you.”

“Missed me?” You repeat in confusion. “You saw me this morning. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll explain everything in time,” he assures you carefully, “but right now I just want to enjoy this moment with you.”

With a faint smile gracing your lips, you know you can’t argue with that. You probably will miss your dinner reservations, but none of that matters as Five pulls you in close and showers you with seven years worth of pent-up affection.

You could really get used to this side of him.

[mamayan]

★SWEET★

Yandere! Dabi x Fem! Darling

Secret Santa 2023 Event!

Word Count: 4k+

Welcome to the Secret Santa Event, hosted by @ectologia (thanks for throwing this together ♡)

My Secret Santa is… @wilderuby ♥️ I hope you enjoy your Christmas present even if it’s not really Christmas themed~

cw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Fem! Reader • Yandere Themes • Stalking/BNE • Dubcon • Dabi • PIV • Fingering • Praise/Degradation • Kidnapping • Psychological • Dacryphilia

It keeps happening.

No matter how many times you’ve visited the local police station, or how often you knock on the door to your neighbor’s home, you keep finding them.

Innocently resting beside your head when you wake up, whether you sleep in your room, the living room, or even your bathroom, is a single red rose.

Never intact either, the delicate scarlet petals singed in one way or another, to the point now it seems to have become an art form. The dark veins running along inside the thin petals blackened until the rose takes on nearly a new color of ashen burgundy.

You went to the heroes, the police, your friends and family, and yet nothing has come about stopping it.

“It is odd but maybe it’s nothing?” Your friends had said, claiming it was seemingly harmless.

How could it truly be though? You locked your doors, all of them, from the front door to your bedroom door to putting padlocks on the windows. You’d awake to everything intact how you left it, not a single thing out of place… except the addition of a single burnt rose.

It was breaking you down mentally and emotionally at this point. Seemingly being haunted by a ghost, faceless and voiceless, no physical form to blame and scream at. You do scream though, after a year of it occurring despite all efforts—even moving to a new home in a different city. No matter what, when you wake up, there’s a rose. Whether you sleep in a hotel, your friend’s home, your parents, even on the damn subway.

There’s always a fucking rose. Every. single. morning.

It’s to the point where you stopped sleeping, staying up to see with your own eyes if you’re truly insane. You blink and it’s just there, even when you search, and search, and search. A rose, a little crispy, rests in front of you without fail.

It was possibly a new method of torture, but soon enough your nervous system no longer perceived it as a threat. You’d awake to the rose, roll over, and start your day. You stopped mentioning it to family and friends, and eventually it became as normal as breathing. You’d place the roses in a vase, comical at this point, and change them out weekly. A few you even preserved, out of sick humor more than actual appreciation. You’d be certain to mention you wanted no roses at your funeral, at least not red ones, and especially not scorched ones.

You became complacent, as you set your keys down upon entrance to your home, to see an entire bouquet of flowers resting on your kitchen counter. Singed red roses, and one singular black rose in the middle… this time there’s a card. A small folded note about the size of your palm, attached to a silken ribbon wrapped around the thin neck of the vase. Condensation slowly slid down the side of the intricate glass, and for some strange reason, your heart felt dread seeping into its core. Your blood felt icy and your farthest appendages chilled as you shakily lifted the delicate paper up. Several seconds ticked by as perspiration dotted your brow before you eventually sighed and unfolded the note.

Ready to come home, doll?

It was motionless in your home. Deathly silent and still but nonetheless your body shook as tears welled up in your eyes while the foreboding words registered with you. You were home, weren’t you? You knew that much. You also knew you’ve never been called the nickname doll a day in your life, at least by no person you knew.

Was it a joke? Your instincts screamed it wasn’t. You did a pathetic job of staying calm, dropping your keys noisily on the floor as you trembled and dropped to pick them up. You’d leave, stay somewhere else tonight and figure it out in the morning—

“Going somewhere?” You hadn’t head even a footstep. You could see in front of you now a pair a beat up leather boots. Dark jeans lazily bunched up around them with a few nicks and tears in the denim fabric. Your eyes continued up until you were staring at a man.

Bright blue eyes, framed by thick dark lashes, stared down at you. His skin was like patchwork, staples actually pierced through healthy looking flesh while connecting what looked like chard leather to it. His skin you realize after a moment. Some healthy, some burnt, while he stood casually over your crouched form with his hands shoved into the dark trench coat he wore over some ratty band t-shirt. You didn’t watch the news often, hardly ever since your stress was high enough dealing with your own issues, but you knew who this was.

What villain this was.

“Dabi…” you barely even breathed his name, almost inaudible despite your close proximity, but it seemed he heard just fine as a slow forming Cheshire grin spread his lips wide open, revealing his white teeth and sharp canines.

“What’s that doll? Y’look like you’ve seen a ghost, speak up, can’t hear ya down there.”

You were right to feel dread. This was likely the worst scenario possible, one you truly hadn’t even thought of. A notorious villain leaving roses for you? Who’d believe such a ridiculous thing? Even you were struggling to believe it.

“Th-the roses…?”

“Hn? Thought I said speak up.” The waning of his smile shouldn’t have your blood pressure spiking as it did, but you scrambled to speak louder as those violent blue irises blazed.

“Did you—uh, a-are the roses from you?” You slid back, nervous as he stepped forward, eye lids growing heavy as he settled for a smirk on his lips.

“Bingo.” He confirms, not a hint of shame or embarrassment in his laxidazical tone.

You heart hammered against your ribcage, eyes briefly leaving him to look at the bouquet on the counter, mind running faster than a hamster in a wheel. He seems fine just staring at you, expression unreadable besides shallow amusement. He’s giving you time to think, and something in your gut is telling you to tread with caution.

What does it mean to leave roses for over a year for you, every single day? No matter how difficult it was made to do?

Someone in love or someone with a grudge. He doesn’t look the part for either, but the bouquet and strange note having you leaning towards some kind of affection for you. However disturbingly he shows it.

Swallowing thickly, nails scraping on the tile floor, you give a wobbly smile.

“T-they’re very pretty… thank you.”

His eyes briefly widen, head tilting as he observes you with a keener interest than before.

“Yeah? Y’like ‘em, doll?” Doll, that nickname again, you wonder if that’s how he refers to you in his mind. You never likened your appearance to a doll.

You nod with a short jerk, smile still plastered even as your bottom lip wobbles minutely.

“I-I do,” it’s more nerve wracking to be staring up at him from the floor, so you make a show of moving incredibly slow, standing on fawn like legs as you reorient yourself with your own feet again. “You gave me a bouquet this time…” even standing you’re forced to tilt your head back to look at him.

“I did.” He confirms, and the sweat sliding down your spine begins to cool as you shiver. You keep wetting your dry lips, struggling to truly grasp how you’re supposed to get the hell out of this situation.

He seems to visibly enjoy your panic and nervous ticks, watching you pick at your nail bed while he makes you stew in confusion and unanswered questions.

What do you do when the country’s top villain stands in your kitchen? You don’t have a quirk that can compete with him and you sure as hell regret squandering the times your friend encouraged learning some self defense.

He’s not in a hurry it seemed either, leaning a hip against your counter while he continues to observe your every movement. His presence made the space around you appear smaller, like he was sucking the energy from the room.

“Are you…” you look down at your feet, “…going to kill me?”

He snickers, catching your gaze again as it flicks up briefly.

“Nope.” He pops the p with a smile.

You don’t feel relieved.

“Are you going to hurt me?” A better question in all honesty.

“Maybe, probably.” He admits casually, shrugging as if it can’t be helped.

Then the best question for the evening, one still festering in your mind, “Why me?”

The air shifts, the scent of smoke like a campfire, wafting over to you.

“Asked myself that question a lot,” he stands up straight, removing his hands from his pockets. He ignores your flinch, coming closer even as you backed up into the counter. “Asked what the fuck is so special ‘bout you,” he jabs a finger into your chest, eyes flaring as he immediately flattens his palm and lays it over your heart. “To make me like this.”

He smells like campfire and something with chemical undertones, his breath held traces of menthol and tobacoo.

“Y’know what conclusion I came to sweetheart?” The way he said sweetheart was laced with venom.

He’s so close you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“W-what?” You don’t really have an option but to ask. He looks manic, languid expression sharpening into something dark and terrifying as he smiles.

“That it doesn’t fuckin’ matter. That I can do whatever the fuck I want, when I want, how I want. Not you, the heroes, or the shitty cops can do a damn thing to stop me.” He leans back, face melting again into something akin to pure satisfaction.

“Why you? It’s your own fault, doll, should’ve tried harder not to catch my attention, don’t’cha think?” It’s like he’s mocking you, eager to get a rise from you as anger and humiliation burned in your soul.

You shook in rage. Fists clenched at your sides as you urged the tears in your eyes away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry like this.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He laughs as you bite out the insult, a deep belly laugh, nearly doubling over as if you’d told the funniest joke possible.

“Wrong move,” he fakes at wiping a tear, eyes crinkling at the corners before your scalp is suddenly on fire, a gasp yanked from your lips as you're hauled up and back to the floor. “Said I’d probably hurt ‘ya, didn’t think you’d sass me so early. That’s okay, I’m good at breaking people, fix that mouth real quick.” He murmurs, as if he’s not using your hair like a lead and making the tears you’d fought back so hard earlier fall.

“Hurts!” You grunt, now putting up a decent struggle as you fight back.

He ends that quick with a flick of his palm, blue flames lighting up your darkened kitchen and striking horror into your soul as he waves it around in your face.

“Think I won’t do it ‘cuz I won’t kill ‘ya?” He asks, his eyes matching the flames he produces, filled with a sick sort of glee.

“I’ll make your face look like mine if you keep acting up.” That shuts you down quickly, going limp even as he releases your hair to grip your arm, dragging you through your home with confidence to where everything is, going straight to your bedroom.

“W-wait—! Dabi please, I-I’m sorry,” he stops in your doorway, looking down at you with over-exaggerated sympathy.

“Poor thing,” he coos, no less gentle as he drags you to the bed and pushes you down. It’s a gentle landing, but your panic gives you energy as you try to quickly crawl away. He grips your ankle, his palm heating so quick you hardly realize you’d been burned until you screech, teeth clenched tight as you struggle to even breathe. It hurts so much.

Your will to fight ends as he climbs above you, shrugging off the trench coat and yanking his t-shirt over his head while grinning at you.

“Too early for cryin’ doll, that one won’t even scar.” He looks disappointed by that fact. “Now, I can be nice ‘n sweet if you’ll be good for me…or I can push your fucking face in the mattress and take you like a filthy whore. Pick or I’ll pick for you.” His shift in tone as he tells you to choose how he’s going to rape you instills a strange sort of hopelessness inside you.

He doesn’t care when the water works start up again, rolling his eyes as he watches you weep and tremble like he’s done anything worth crying over yet to you.

“Well babydoll? I’m so fuckin’ hard right now you won’t like the choice I make for you.”

“Sweet…” you’re all curled up like a kitten doused in water beneath him.

He’s unbuckling the belt around his hips, tugging the denim down and his boxers along with it as he grunts.

“C’mere” he all but growls, yanking you up again and pulling at your clothing, quick and efficient in stripping you despite your actions mimicking the nickname he’s given you. Acting like a doll in his embrace as he tosses each article of clothing you wore off to the floor until you were down to your bra and panties. He’s yanking at your bra first, eyes greedily drinking you in as he leaves your top bare finally.

You sniffle pathetically, any attempt at hiding yourself useless as he uses his knees to knock yours open, fitting himself in between as he messily licks two fingers and shoves aside your panties to rub at your folds.

“Hgn!” Your eyes open wide as he crassly works two fingers into your dry cunt, his saliva barely enough to grant him access to the tight confines. “D-Dabi—,” your nails are digging into his arms, tearing at a seam of staples and causing a few small trails of blood to stream, but he’s too focused on you to truly mind.

“Y’asked for sweet doll, means you need to relax and let me in,” he explains, like he’s not stretching you open and jabbing his thick digits inside you despite your weak protests and groans of pain.

Your body gives way to the intrusion after a few minutes, adrenaline fading and leaving you almost exhausted as your cunt lubricates itself to ease his passage.

“There ‘ya go,” he murmurs almost hoarsely, letting you go when he sees you’re being obedient enough and using that freed hand to grip his leaking cock.

Your eyes track his movement, watching him grasp the thick appendage hanging heavy between his legs.

You note before even his size the piercings, not just one or two but a multitude lined his cock like a weapon more than a sexual organ.

Dabi notes the hitch in your breath and where your eyes lay, proudly running his thumb over the ladder of piercings up the spine of his shaft to the tip where two small stainless steel balls rested.

“Scared?” He teases, relaxing himself as he jerks his cock and relieves a little of the ache which had been building in his balls. Curling his fingers up, you gasp in surprise at the pleasant feeling which accompanies the action.

“Nah, you ain’t scared, doll. Not a coward, y’would’ve run a long time ago but you stayed ‘cuz you like this. You like knowing someone is out there willing to do anything to have you,”

“I don’t—,” he cuts you off with a sharp thrust up, pressing into the rough textured spot along your gooey walls.

“Shh, y’should know I don’t like liars, especially not ones who get exposed by their cunt dripping all over the bed.” His smile is filthy, lecherous gaze running along your sweaty exposed skin as he just keeps hitting that spot inside which makes your toes curl.

“P-please stop, Dabi I can’t—,”

“Still lying?” He asks, more amused than angry as you try your best to twist away from the pleasure now wracking your body.

“How’s this doll? You drop the Dabi bullshit n’say Touya when you’re about to cum, okay? Y’listening?” He stops working himself over, freeing his hand again to tap your cheek and catch your clouded watery gaze.

“Try it out.” He orders softly, sweetly, like he’s trying to be gentle but the way his fingers fuck you is anything but sweet or kind. The loud lewd squelching exactly as he said earlier, a confession to how much your body at least enjoyed his careless attention.

You huff, mouth opening to choke on a moan as he adds another finger, fingers wrapping around his wrist where they attempt to halt the sudden oversensitivity inside you.

If anything he jams his fingers inside you harder.

“T-Touya!” You hope he’ll stop. Hope he ends this strange psychological torture as your stomach coils up tight.

He doesn’t, Dabi merely groans in delight and chuckles over you, leaning down to slot his lips over yours in a kiss as messy as he’s making you down below.

His soft top lip is contrasted by the rough feeling of his bottom, but his kiss is hot and you can taste the menthol now. His scent is strong, and you catch a hint of his natural odor beneath the smoke and tobacco. Your cries are silenced by his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you open to complain. You shiver as you feel the drag of a piercing on his tongue, the light touch somehow more erotic. He parts sloppily, saliva connecting your lips for a moment before you flinch as he spits in your mouth.

“Open your fucking mouth.” The tone he uses and language are harsh, and you tearily do as instructed. “Stick out your tongue.” He murmurs a bit more nicely this time, humming in approval as you obey with shaky hesitation.

You won’t hesitate soon enough, if he has anything to do about it. He’ll make his words gospel in your cute brain and have you eager to listen to his every command.

Dabi lets his spit hit your tongue slowly, watching you pant like a dog with your tongue out as he brings you closer and closer to your release. The way your walls clamp around his fingers and constrict makes his cock weep to sink inside you already. “Touya—!”

You cum when he finally allows you to swallow, gushing and throwing your head back while he fucks you through it, laughing as you tense up and beg for mercy and try to escape the pleasure he’s delivering relentlessly.

“Good fuckin’ girl, say my name baby, let me hear it.” Dabi nearly loses it himself watching you shatter, eyes wide and wild as he keeps going. “Touya pl-please…hn!” You keen almost like you’re in pain, fingers digging into his shoulders now while your legs kick out.

“Y’asked for sweet, doll, means you get to cum as much as you want tonight.”

That wasn’t what you’d thought it meant, even as you choke and cum again, this time more softly as he slows his furious pace to something manageable now.

Dabi smiles at the fucked out expression you now wear, pliant in his hold as he maneuvers your body, hoisting your legs up and pressing them to your chest as you whimper in protest.

“You can stay nice ‘n pretty like this doll, doing so good f’me.” He’s not very assuring as he murmurs to you while positioning the weapon he’s armored on his cock at your dripping entrance, tapping his tip a few times on your puffy clit as you moan and twitch, view perfect to watch how he slicks himself up. “T-Touya…” he moans as he catches on your entrance only to slip up, eyes looking at your face as he licks his lips and tries again, enjoying the soft warm feeling of rubbing on your cunt.

“Yeah doll? Need somethin’?” He grins, his cock finally breaching that tight ring of muscle that lets him sink into your hot welcoming depths. “Fuck, been dreaming ‘bout this cunt for so long. Y’know how many times I’ve had to just cum on your sleeping face instead of fucking you? All the times I could’ve just woken you up and had you?” He moans, laughing at the horrified and almost strangled look you gave him, his chest vibrating with a laugh as you mewl like a cat in heat when the first row of piercings sinks into you. “Like ‘em baby? Fuckin’ looks like you do, they feel good in your little pussy?” He moans again when you accidentally bare down on him, the tightness increasing painfully as you whine when his piercings dig in too much.

“Easy doll, let me in,” he murmurs, dark hair falling into his face as he braces above you with one arm, lithe muscles taunt as he works his hips a little at a time into you, enthralled with how you fit around him enough not to slam himself inside all at once.

When the top balls of his piercings kiss up against your cervix, you’re ruined, face a mess as you struggle to adjust to the stretch and sensations.

“S’too much, Touya—” you can only cling to him, eyes drawn to where he’s sunk his entire fat cock into your depths, the way your body contorted giving you the best view.

Your words have the opposite effect though, his groan guttural as he drags himself out, drunk on the feeling of your pussy and lost to it.

“Keep sayin’ my fuckin’ name, lemme hear ‘ya scream babydoll,” you go to protest again, when he slams each inch back into you, the ribs along his cock now working in tandem with his thrusts, effectively shutting you up as you squeal and dig your nails into his shoulders for purchase.

Dabi fucks you hard and deep, speed unnecessarily to keep the air from your lungs as each thrust feels like it’s hitting up in your stomach, the pain and pleasure blending until you aren’t sure if it truly hurts or not.

He sets a steady rhythm, watching your body shake each time he lets his hips fall like a hammer, seeing his cock swallowed each time by your greedy cunt until he’s delirious at the sight.

“Pretty fucking slut, look how your pussy takes me.” He’s spewing filth at you, but when it should offend, it instead makes you burn hotter, his name falling from your swollen pouty lips like a chant.

“This cunt want me to breed it? Fill your pussy full until you can’t take anymore?” You shake your head in denial, unable to truly form words anymore as he picks up his pace, fucking you hard enough to make your headboard slam into the wall. Each thrust accompanied by a symphony of wet slapping, his balls tapping your ass each time his groin kisses your own. “Bet it does, huh doll? This greedy little cunt keeps begging for more.” He loves the dichotomy between your sloppy pussy and the way you shake your head. “No? Y’sure doll? Think it does. Don’t like lyin’ baby, remember? You want me to punish you?” You shake your head again, a bit frustrated when he slows, letting you feel all of him inside you like this, his weight keeping you pinned.

“Shakin’ your head ain’t an answer doll, I’ll be nice ‘n give you another chance, but I expect a fucking a verbal answer this time.” He’s like a light switch. Either on or off but much more terrifying when he flips it on, eyes and voice menacing as you cough and answer in a husky voice. You don’t want to test him on the punishment, truly you don’t, as your ankle still fully throbs in the back of your mind as a reminder of what he’s capable of and who he is.

“I-I like h-how you do it now…” he cocks a brow, sinking deep and then pressing even further so you whine and try to push back further into the bed.

“Y’like how I’m fuckin’ you now? That it, doll?” You go to nod before remembering his warning, swallowing thickly and voicing a soft agreement.

“Hmm… then y’oughta say it, right? Tell me how good I’m fuckin’ this pussy.” He growls, bright blue eyes lighting up as you moan, his pace increasing again as you blabber out whatever nonsense you can to satisfy him. Whatever would make him be sweet, because you have a feeling you don’t want him any other way.

“S-so good! Mhn, f-feels so good Touya, pl-please, ah,” he’s being too rough, your eyes watering and tears spilling as he drills into you, but even still you feel yourself close to coming again as those piercings rub perfectly inside you.

Dabi lifts up, letting your legs fall to either side of him as he grips both your hips tight and fucks you more aggressively. Jackhammering into your gummy walls like he’s eager to imprint the shape of his cock inside you, mouth open and brows furrowed while he groans feeling you tense up again, this time around his dick.

“T-Touya—! M’coming, oh fuck—!” You look painfully suprised when you realize how much it all becomes as you cum, the peircings becoming more prominent as you spasm and clamp down on him, eyes rolling back as your vision slightly blurs.

“Yeah y’are doll, fuck, that feel good? Looks like it did.” He chuckles, chest swelling with a deep satisfaction as he fucks you harder despite your weak whines, overstimulated cunt begging for a break despite how he bullies himself inside you.

“Tell me where you want it,” he’s close, panting and overheating even as he nears his end.

“N-not inside…” he laughs at the soft reply, thrusts only getting deeper as he resorts to simply humping into you for friction after you tighten up so much it hurts to go harder.

“Can’t pull out though doll, look how tight you’re gripping my cock.” You aren’t paying attention, mindlessly moaning as he finally gasps and cums, cock twitching deep inside you and filling you up despite your earlier request.

He nearly collapses on you, chest rising and falling quickly as he regains his breath and relaxes on your soft chest for a moment to recouperate.

When he’s caught his breath, he leans up, slowly pulling out and watching his heavy load immediately spill from your hole.

“Tsk,” he uses two fingers to scoop up what dribbled out, stuffing it back into you as you sleepily huff and press a hand against his chest.

You’re helpless to stop him, too exhausted to fight more and figuring it better to let him have his way than risk his wrath right now.

Once he’s satisfied he’d stuffed you back up well enough, Dabi is quick to leave the bed and begin redressing, speaking casually with you despite your lack of answering.

You watch the villain act as if nothing had occurred, face the same smug arrogant grin when you’d first spotted him.

It’s when he returns his attention to you that fear begins to trickle back into your blood stream.

He seems to notice too, smile growing with your apprehension.

“Now doll,” he crosses back to where you’ve sat up and covered yourself with a blanket, weary gaze locked with his.

“Ready to come home?”

Then it’s dark, your vision going out with your consciousness as Dabi catches you in his arms, dragging your limp figure from the bed and into his arms quickly.

He’s kind enough to wrap you in a sheet as he takes your house keys and phone, shoving them in his pocket as he leaves your place with you in his embrace.

He whistles on his way home, a bit eager to see your expression when you wake.

He figures you’ll learn to like your new home once you realize you’re never leaving it.

He even decorated for the season, the tree a little burnt but he’s sure you’ll appreciate the sentiment.

Dividers/@cafekistune

[h0neylevi]

After a major shift, your life has become a series of monotonous routines. Eat, sleep, go to work, repeat. But when you find a man bleeding on the subway with no idea how he got there, things become anything but ordinary.

General content warnings: isekai/parallel universe, modern AU, mentions of blood and canon-typical violence, some light angst, eventual smut.

chapter warnings: mentions of blood/cleaning of wounds

word count: 3.2k

It’s just after midnight when you make it to the metro platform.

The descent underground is quiet. Below the bustling city streets, you go through the process of boarding a train back home in a bit of a mindless daze, having done this cycle of late night shifts at the hospital countless times before.

The carriage is empty when you walk on board, silent except for the pneumatic hiss of the doors that slide closed behind you. You fall into the nearest seat with a heavy sigh.

It’s the first time in thirteen hours you’ve really been able to get off your feet.

Working four 12 hour days in a row can be tiring, but it’s worth it most of the time for the following four days off that you’re able to get. Four days off of freedom—which usually means catching up on errands. Laundry, getting groceries, and cleaning.

It’s just you now, so things tend to pile up much more quickly.

As you feel the rumble of movement beneath you, the momentum causing you to sway a little in your seat, you stare unblinking at the opposite window. Flashes of advertisements and thick concrete tunnel walls speed by in a blur, and you allow your mind to wander.

Maybe you could go to that new cafe in the morning that opened up on College Street. It’s been a while since you’ve taken a moment just for yourself. Or maybe you could take a book to the park after cleaning your apartment. The weather was supposed to be nice, and that used to be your favorite thing to do before…

The train slows to a stop before you continue down that line of thinking. With a droning chime, the doors open to signal would-be passengers to either depart or climb aboard.

A pleasant female voice erupts from the intercom system. “This is Freedom Park Station. Please stand clear of the doors.”

It’s not unheard of for others to be out so late, particularly on a Friday night, so to see a man walk aboard doesn’t immediately surprise you.

What does cause you to do a double take is the state of him.

The first thing you see is the insignia of the wings of freedom, a symbol you immediately recognize on the back of the green cloak covering his upper half from one of your favorite shows, Attack on Titan.

The second thing you notice is that he’s soaked.

That’s odd. You don’t remember it raining earlier in the day, but it could have been a brief downpour in another part of the city. And he’s clearly coming from an anime convention. Those were usually held at the convention center on the other side of the city.

The man heavily slumps forward against the railing. His back is turned toward you, but you watch him thoughtfully, admiring the impressive handiwork of his costume. From under the cloak, you see the intricately wrapped belts of the omni-directional gear, as well as the boxes along his thighs that are used in the show to store blades. When you see a reflection of an advertisement briefly glimmer off of the surface, you realize that they’re actually metal.

Those must be heavy. Did he make them himself?

The train begins to move again and your thoughts are stopped short when the man stumbles, nearly falling. That’s when he turns and you notice the blood.

His face is covered in it.

You’re on your feet before you even realize it. “Excuse me.”

He turns at the sound of your voice and you see the source: a rough cut just above his right eyebrow.

The man sways unsteadily on his feet against the movement of the train. The look he gives you is immediately distrusting, but he doesn’t back away.

You stop a few feet from him. “Sir, are you okay?” When his eyes narrow, you point to the badge pinned to your work scrubs. “I’m a nurse, see?”

You wait as his eyes study your hospital badge for a moment.

“Where the hell am I?”

Okay, that’s potentially a cause for concern. “Uh.” You try to remember what stop he got on from. “Freedom Park.” The look on his face doesn’t resemble recognition. “You’re not from around here?”

For a moment, he seems to think. “No.”

There’s a sharp jolt from the train car and you both sway a little, him more than you.

You gesture to the empty seat next to him. “Here. You should probably sit down.”

He doesn’t argue as he takes a seat.

Looking him over, you consider your options. It isn’t too late to take him back to the hospital, but you don’t exactly want to after spending the entire day there already. From the looks of it, it doesn’t look like he’ll need stitches, but it doesn’t feel right to leave him alone in the state he’s in either.

“Can you tell me what happened?” you ask.

The man looks around for a moment. The look on his face turns apprehensive. “I don’t remember. There was a flash… and then I just woke up here.”

You raise your brows. Something about the way he says it feels like he isn’t being completely honest, but you suppose the bleeding itself is a more pressing concern right now anyway.

“Okay,” you say. “Well, that cut doesn’t look too deep, but you should get it cleaned.” You pause for a moment, debating. “My apartment is at the next stop.”

You had meant it as a suggestion, but the man doesn’t seem to follow.

“I can look at it for you,” you add. “Maybe help you find wherever you were supposed to stay.”

He seems to consider it for a long moment, looking from you to around the empty train car and then back to your badge.

“Alright,” he says as the train begins to slow. When it comes to a stop and the doors open with their loud hydraulic hiss, he follows you back out onto the platform.

It’s quiet for most of the walk back. You go through the motions of exiting the station—swiping your pass and leading the way up the winding corridors to street level while the man follows, watching your movements and your surroundings with a puzzled sort of awe.

It isn’t until you’re pulling out the keys to your place before you turn to him again.

“So, what’s your name?”

He gives you a subdued look. “Levi.”

You smile.

“No, really…” you press, looking over his clothes again. It’s obvious that’s what he’s going for now that you see him up close—the scout uniform and the way he’s styled his hair. Come to think of it, he has Levi’s frame as well. And his eyes.

It’s a damn good cosplay actually. If Levi Ackerman were to magically come out of the television screen as a flesh and blood person, he’d look exactly like this guy.

But judging by his expression and the complete lack of response, he isn’t interested in giving you any sort of real information.

You turn then, your smile dropping, and lead the way into the apartment building. “O-kay.”

It’s possible, you guess, that his name really is Levi. Just a very bizarre coincidence that he happens to look and act exactly like your favorite character from an anime and also likes the anime as well. There are billions of people in the world though. Stranger things happen all the time.

Reluctant to piss him off further, the rest of the walk up to the second floor is done in more silence. You unlock your front door and lead the way inside, smiling when you hear the telltale trill of your cat greeting you at the door.

“Hello, Luna,” you greet, bending down to run your hand between the shorthair’s ears. She pushes herself up into your hand a little further with a chirp.

Still at the door, the man—Levi—watches.

“Luna?” he asks in a flat tone.

You straighten back up, noting his hesitancy to walk forward. “You’re not allergic, are you?” That would be some cosmic bad luck on his part to deal with a head wound and an allergic reaction in one night.

But thankfully, he shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s affectionate but she’s harmless,” you say, sidestepping around your cat to walk further into your living room. When Levi joins you, you gesture to the sofa. “Have a seat there. I’ll be right back with some supplies.”

You don’t wait around to see if he does what you say, instead dipping down the hall toward a small office. It’s mostly just a place for all of your trinkets—a desk filled with a few figures and a computer. Some bookshelves line the walls, collecting dust. It’s been months since you’ve picked up a good book or did much of anything in this room, really. But you know exactly where to look for the supply kits you’ve managed to stock up on from the hospital.

After you find the suture thread and some wound wash, you grab a towel from the bathroom next door and return to the living room.

Levi is there, sitting on the edge of the sofa as if he’s afraid to get comfortable. His gaze keeps jumping around the room, taking in the layout and decor, and his fists rest stiffly on his knees. Luna is next to him, tentatively sniffing at his knuckles with a curious stretch of her neck.

You shoo her away gently and take her place on the sofa. The angle of light allows you to see the source of the drying blood on his face a bit better.

Quietly, you look him over. “How are you feeling?”

He watches as you slip on a pair of gloves. “I’ve had worse.”

You snort lightly and begin to prep the fresh towel with wound wash.

“Do you have stuff like this happen to you often?” you ask, now reaching to press the towel to his face.

At your question, he pulls his one uncovered eye from you, surveying the room again. “Nothing quite like this.”

“What happened?”

Levi is quiet for a moment before he says, “It was nothing. I fell.”

You pause your movements, frowning. “This doesn’t look like the kind of cut you’d get from a fall.”

“Why does it matter?”

Judging by his defensive tone, he knows more than he’s letting on, but you can’t figure out why he isn’t being honest.

But with him already in your apartment, you don’t want to do anything to unnecessarily antagonize him. Even in his current state, he looks strong and capable enough to hurt you.

Probably best to just change the subject.

“Did you have somewhere you were staying?” you ask, returning to your task.

You gently dab the towel down the curve of his jaw and feel the muscle tense beneath your touch.

“No,” he finally says.

“You came all the way here for a convention and didn’t book a hotel?”

“A convention?”

“Yeah,” you nod, gesturing to his clothes. “You’re a scout, right?”

At your words, his expression becomes a bit more relieved. He nods. “Yes. I got onto that... train thing because I hoped it might take me to headquarters.”

You blink as you listen to him. Did he hit his head hard enough for him to think that he is Levi Ackerman?

Maybe you should take him to the hospital anyway just to get him checked out. He seems perfectly lucid otherwise though, if a bit confused.

You reach forward and check his head wound again. Just like you thought, it’s too shallow to need stitches and isn’t bleeding anymore, so that’s a good sign. Maybe it could wait until morning.

“Do you feel sick?” you ask, searching his expression for any lack of focus or disorientation but find none. “Nauseated? Dizzy?”

“Other than the stabbing pain above my eye?” he deadpans, glaring at you. “No. I feel fine.”

You sigh. This is insane, considering letting a complete stranger stay in your apartment. But he doesn’t have anywhere else to go and he’s still soaking wet. You’d feel guilty if you just let him go and he got into trouble. At the very least, you could make sure he has somewhere to sleep. 

You get to your feet and look over his clothes once more. “You can stay here tonight if you’d like. I think I might have some old clothes you can sleep in, and there’s a shower down the hall.”

He gives you a distrustful look. “You’re putting a lot of faith in a stranger.”

You raise a brow. “I guess we both are. But if you’d rather sleep out in the cold, then be my guest.”

That seems to give him pause, and he looks around the room once more.

“Where did you say the shower was?”

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” you tell him. “I can get you a towel and some clothes.”

You dispose quickly of the bloodied towel in your kitchen trash along with your gloves and turn back down the hall again. When you return, Levi is standing awkwardly next to your sofa. He seems to be pointedly ignoring Luna, who is still curiously sniffing him from the armrest.

“These should fit,” you tell him, patting the folded up sweatpants and an oversized shirt tucked beneath your arm. “Just leave your things in the bathroom and I’ll make sure your clothes are washed in the morning.”

He takes the items from you with another skeptical glance. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I have to do laundry anyway,” you wave him off. “It’s no trouble.” Quickly, you point at him. “Just don’t scrub at that cut. You’ll just make it bleed again.”

He doesn’t move immediately when you back away to let him pass by, but the promise of a hot shower seems to eventually override whatever keeps him fixed in place. Without another word, he retreats down the hall, right to the second door on the left like you told him.

What a strange man.

It takes fifteen minutes before you hear the shower turn on.

In that time, you busy yourself with finding a spare blanket and a pillow and leave them on the sofa. You tidy up a little next, grabbing leftover drinking glasses off the table and discarded socks that had been pushed under the coffee table. It isn’t much, but you’re left feeling slightly less anxious about the state of your place by the time you’re finished. You like to keep things tidy to begin with, but the place certainly looks lived in right now.

Curious, you sink into a chair and pull out your phone while you’re waiting and click on the search engine, quickly typing in a few keywords to check on any local anime conventions happening in the area.

There are no ongoing events, and the next one isn’t happening until six months from now.

Well, that eliminates your theory. So then what the hell was he doing cosplaying on the street on a random Friday? If he was with someone, he wouldn’t have been wandering around alone and he said he wasn’t staying anywhere in the area.

The thought occurs to you that maybe this is some sort of trap to lure unsuspecting women into vulnerable positions, preying on a person’s compassion. But then, that was very real blood on his face and a very real wound, and he has had ample opportunities to attack and rob you if that was truly what he was after. He might look intimidating, but there’s nothing about him that screams that you’re in any sort of immediate danger either.

Maybe you can get some real answers out of him in the morning when he’s less grumpy.

You’re feeding Luna in the kitchen when Levi reappears.

With silent relief, you note that his wound seems to still be fine. He looks healthier in general after cleaning off, but he also looks… well, even more like Levi Ackerman. It’s kind of uncanny.

“What?”

You jump when you hear his voice. He’s watching you from the living room, looking about as confused as you feel.

Shit, have you been staring? “Nothing.” You sigh and rub at your eyes. It’s been too long of a day to start questioning your sanity. “Are you hungry or anything? I have some leftovers I can heat up really quick.”

“I’m fine.” He shakes his head and turns his attention to the blanket and pillow on the sofa. 

Carefully, he arranges it how he likes and sits down. He glances at the television on the other side of the room before looking around again, lingering at times on things like the lamps in the corners and over to the open kitchen.

His hands fidget in his lap.

“I’ll be out of here first thing in the morning.”

The sound of his voice surprises you.

“Where are you going to go?”

He shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully. He’s a grown man, so it shouldn’t concern you what he does. But his comments about not being from here, and the whole thing about him trying to find ‘headquarters’? You’d feel better knowing there isn’t anything you’ve missed.

“At least let me take you to the hospital to get that cut checked out,” you suggest. “We can go first thing while your clothes are drying.”

He scoffs but the sound is entirely devoid of humor. “I told you I’m fine.”

“So it’ll be a quick visit and you can be on your way in no time,” you reply. “One of the doctors I work with can look you over before we open. He won’t mind.”

“Or I could just leave in the middle of the night.”

“I guess.” You shrug. “I wouldn’t be able to stop you, but that’s your choice. My conscience can be clear as long as I’ve offered to help you. I can’t make you take it, but I think it’s a good idea.”

He glares at you from the sofa, but doesn’t reply.

You get the sense that he doesn’t want to be bothered anymore. With the night he’s had, he probably just wants some rest, and you’re more than willing to get some sleep yourself.

Now that the shock of the night has worn off a bit, your body feels heavy as you get to your feet.

Levi stays quiet as you move around the room, shutting off lights and locking your front door. He moves to lay down once he gathers what you’re doing.

“I’ll get you up in the morning,” you tell him from the hallway. “Get some sleep.”

That earns you little more than a grunt of acknowledgement.

When you get into your room, you make sure to lock the door and find a baseball bat from the depths of your closet to sit by your bed. You’ve always been a light sleeper, so you hope that you’ll be able to hear if he decides to try anything.

You go through your nightly routine and climb into bed, then send off a text before closing your eyes—a message to one of your friends and fellow co-workers at the hospital.

Hey, could you do me a huge favor tomorrow morning? It’ll be quick.

Hopefully, when you wake up, Levi will still be there.

[leilanising]

All Aboard the Centipede Train!

this is an au I've been planning for a while, its basically set in an apocalyptic kind of world, with the entire planet run over by both strange, and rather dangerous monsters.

Ingo and Emmet are twins who travel together, and one day, while exploring subway system while in some caves, they find a strangely functional subway train.

some time after their boarding, to their surprise, the train starts up on its own, and both twins quickly realize they aren't in a train, but rather a centipede train monster!

despite the fact that the subway train is a monster tho, its surprisingly docile and apathetic, traveling the subway cave system seemingly just by schedule, almost like the spirit of the subway train still has some control over how the monster functions XD

as long as Ingo and Emmet board the train before the monster takes off again, they never miss a stop! not to mention it works as a pretty sweet base too, lol. never get in front of the monster while its on track tho, cause it won't stop until it reaches its next destination, even if that means running over someone

I kinda went on a ramble here, but I hope everything I said makes sense, lol

[padawansuggest]

Okay so on Coruscant there are very few people that don’t actually go out into the streets (I’m thinking politicians and Jedi might be some of the few who don’t have to go outside very often if at all because the senate and the temple are both the size of a small city) which means that 1: they NEED to have vitamin D lights on the streets of Coruscant because otherwise everyone would be depressed like in the deepest winter at all times. And 2: that means I think the Jedi temple and the senate themselves also are just full of Vitamin D lights.

Also y’all need to stop writing fics where kids are afraid of ‘getting caught sneaking around after dark’ or something because the temple is literally so full of species that you have no idea of that kid is nocturnal or whatever. They very well could be. Tbh I wanna write a fic where someone catches Obi-Wan sneaking around at night to play a prank with Quin or something and he’s all ‘bruh my eyes glow in the dark I’m obviously meant to be awake at this hour’ and no one can argue with him. Stuff like that.

Also I think the temple neeeeeeeds multiple healing halls (once more. It is the size of a small city) one in the aquatic center of the temple (which canonically exists) one in the temple main (which should span over like four levels and act as it’s own building okay) and one in the creche. This is the MINIMUM amount of healing halls I think they should have.

A tram system should be inside the walls. Places in the temple that act as sideways lifts and also a subway system because believe it or not, there are species in the temple as small as one foot tall, and I’m not just talking about Grogu, I’m talking about others like Kushiban and others similar. Once more. It is the size of a small city. They should have both subway type stations (that take you certain places like the main healing halls or the biggest canteen or the supply sector of the temple things like that) because oh my god imagine how many hours the commute to your workstation could take if you didn’t have that shit. Annoying af.

They gotta have names for all the different canteens okay. Like ‘meet me in the cafeteria’ in a temple the size of a small city is bullshit cause even in the books they have multiple cafeterias.

A… let’s call it a Mall Section of the temple. A place where you can pick up groceries (the temple makes their own food and I assume most of it is cooked in careens but also not letting people cook their own food is a recipe for a Jedi starving to death on a mission lmao) but they also have a salon (skin care and hair care are very important and if you let all these babies cut their own hair they gonna turn out like me no one wants that) and a clothing ‘store’ where you can get certain size clothes and robes from, or even undercover mission clothes. There need to be Jedi in these places too!!! Imagine going to the salon with your master and having a gossip talk about your new lineage member!!! It’s important to society!!!

A Jedi movie theater where the masters send their kiddos on the weekend so they can enjoy a glass of wine and not be sneezed on for three hours.

I’ve actually seen a few mentions in fics and posts about tea salons so that is def also a thing. It’s the Jedi version of a cafe. I think people who like baking take turns working there and everyone chips in for tea selections and stuff.

Droid Ubers. They need to get somewhere but feel sick as heck and it’s not near any good lifts or the subway trams??? Call a droid Uber lmao. It shouldn’t be unusual either lol just grandmaster on his way to bother his kid while not aggravating his hip after hip surgery.

Remember that Jedi who are like 10 foot tall also exist so remember there ARE apartments in the temple that could fit Kenobi’s Dino-Horse girl Boga.

There should also be apartments with like 10 bedrooms and bathrooms (or even one giant communal bathroom) around a singular living/cooking space!!! Let Jedi live in communes!!!!

The aquatic levels of the creche are def the cutest place in the temple you can’t argue with me on the idea of water babies swimming and cuddling under water.

On another note to the fact that species like Kushiban exist???? Imagine tiny doors and corridors that used to be used by mouse droids but they became so useful to tiny Jedi so they got taken over. Just imagine that.

Bartering markets where Jedi trade things, mostly things they get on missions or are given to them as gifts, nothing goes to waste so they find a proper place for all gifts and extras here.

Cooking classes. Obi-Wan has been kicked out of all of them his cooking is so bad. Anakin claims bullshit he loves Master’s cooking! But then, he also eats worms…

Anyways. Y’all too single minded with this shit. It just be all ‘cafeteria, living quarters, healing halls and archives’ with you guys. Where is the culture. Where is the acknowledgment of multiple species all living in the same area taking place in a culture of peace and galactic exploration???? Give them a liquor store idgaf.

[fivelasanctum]

Everything is real

S03 ep.07 and S04 ep.06 parallel: Been doing my rewatch of the series and noticed this gem inside Lila's psyche when she was talking to Allison being reminiscent of her yelling that her and five's life in the alternate timelines wasn't real. A blatant contradiction to what she mentioned here. "This isn't real Five! None of this is real!" -Lila S04 ep.05 Events when time travelling are real and still impact you, just can happen quickly and feel like a whirlwind. She also goes to mention to have something or someone to focus on to essentially keep you sane and grounded.

Five comes in right after they have this conversation, zooming in on him as he came to fetch them for the plan. Hmmmm...xD When Five and her get lost in the subway time travelling system, her focus point is her kids. Just as Lila became Five's purpose for surviving. To protect her and try to get her back home to them. Five also became her focus point. Just secondary to their shared goal. Being together, relying on the other for survival (initially), comfort and affection. Eventually falling for each other since they can sit down and have time to see how they are mirrors of each other in many ways. Lila has shown she has mental barriers both around her heart and mind. Self preservation. Much like Five with his own control over his emotions and keeping others at a distance from all his years alone and serving as an assassin. Lila has the same trauma... with being brought up by the handler and living in the same life. She lied about Stanley to Diego as a way to test him if he would be a good father because she was scared and didn't want to be rejected. Possibly lying about being with many people to make him jealous. Mind games that she probably was taught by the Handler.

In the above images you can see that lila is a very human character with inexplicable flaws. Seeing herself far too broken to have a family and cowardly. She tends to go for the jugular to hurt when she has been harmed or upset emotionally. She goes into denial and tries to run away from her problems to a certain extent. Whereas Five has always cut to the quick with his brutal honesty. Telling her Diego loves her but also the cold truth of how her mother never did. Making her almost cry so she lashed out by diminishing his experience by calling Dolores out for what she actually was. Something to note from their argument in season 4 leading up to their return to their present timeline. He confronted her about what they shared in all those years and that the marriage was broken. Lila lies to herself sometimes and wanted to run away from having to think about anything outside of seeing her kids.

I strongly feel she said those words to Five about it being all about survival and it not being real because she felt betrayed with his lies. Even though his words weren't wrong. She couldn't say anything to his reasoning for doing it. "You know why." Still - it's true to her character. When she saw the hurt on her lovers face...think that's when most of the anger faded from her. Replaced with a sense of powerlessness, sadness and resignment. Yearning to stay there in their happiness bubble (it was still their Anniversary when all this went down) but needing to have her kids back. She appeared as though she was ready to cry because in her heart she didn't want anything to change regarding the two of them. Just trying to push him away yet can't stand hurting him. Perhaps it's difficult for her to hold herself back from that defense mechanism.

This is the look of someone eager to get back to her old married life with the kids right? Again, ready to cry with the situation weighing heavy on her heart. Think why she had tunnel vision to focus on just seeing her kids again was because she didn't want to ponder what happens next with her relationship with Five, talking to Diego...figuring everything out. Damn. This was suppose to be a short post but turned into a mini essay. In short...she was lying about what they have not being real. Just tried to push it away due to in the moment anger with the reveal.

[alana-reid-2005]

spencer reid x reader ౨ৎ you’ve been reassigned indefinitely to the bau’s nyc office; spencer helps you pack for the move

p.s. did i write this to cope with the fact that i’m moving 30 minutes away from home for college? you know me too well.

Five hours isn’t that long of a drive. If you could somehow convince Erin Strauss to let you borrow the BAU’s plane, the journey would be cut to a mere hour and a half. You don’t know if this move will be permanent, but you try to forget about that for now and focus on packing. You stuff your winter coat into your already full suitcase. You’re about ready to sit on top of your suitcase to attempt to close it. October’s just around the corner, and New York gets chilly with a capital “C,” even more so than Quantico.

It’ll be your first Halloween away from Spencer in seven years, you think morosely. Spencer knows how to celebrate the spooky season. Halloween is his Christmas as evidenced by the multiple excursions to the local pumpkin patch and trips to various haunted houses he takes you on each year. And that’s not to mention how he invites you over on the thirty-first to witness him spooking the kids in his apartment building with his various monster or ghoul costumes before treating them to king size candy bars.

You’re gonna miss that more than you’d like to admit.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as Spencer stumbles in, carrying a box full of knick knacks he’s making you choose from after reasoning with you that, “Seasonal depression is very real, and making your house a home is one small way to remedy the feelings of loneliness.”

He bumps his hip hard into your closet doorknob on his way over to you but barely seems to register it.

“Careful hon-“

“Hey, did you know that the subway system is actually way better than people make it out to be?” He sets down the box with a little huff before continuing, his hands immediately going up to make gestures as he speaks. “According to a New York Times analysis I saw this morning, there’s only about one violent crime per one million rides. And that rate is only going down as ridership increases, so I think it’s your safest bet for getting around the city, all things considered.”

You smile up at him. Here’s another thing you’re gonna miss. You’d drop all your life’s responsibilities if it meant you could hear him explain the world to you all day long.

He kneels beside you where you’re bent over your suitcase. “Anyway, I brought you some holiday decor! Pick as many as you can fit in your luggage. I’ll mail you the rest.”

He’s not quite smiling, but you can sense the joy radiating from him like steam from a thermal geyser.

“It’s barely September, Spence.” You try not to let your voice break. You just can’t muster his level of enthusiasm when you know you’ll be leaving him soon. Too soon.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He must’ve noticed you were off earlier today. Mercifully, he hadn’t mentioned it sooner, or you would’ve been bawling like a baby at eight in the morning. More than often, you feel this is the curse of your chosen profession: to always know how you and those around you feel but never how to help them or yourself.

“Please don’t cry, angel.” His arms are around you in an instant, easing your chin to his shoulder. He slides his hands down to rub your back, applying just the right amount of pressure to coax your body to melt into his.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise.” He tilts back, arms tightening around your mid back until you’re almost in his lap. Physical touch is by far not on the top of his list of love languages, but he needs you to know how much he’s gonna miss you.

“I’m sorry,” you sob.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “I’m driving up to see you every weekend. And you’re flying in for Thanksgiving. I think Garcia said she’d host this year.”

“Aw, Penelope always does the best job,” you sniffle, unable to help the grin that breaks over your face.

Spencer pulls back, beaming just as bright. Once your expression softens, he pulls you in for a kiss, painfully saccharine in its tenderness.

You’re gonna miss his coffee breath most of all.

[guawowow]

Going crazy thinking about the complexities of Donatello and his relationship with his emotions in tottmnt just auuaua !!!!

Like, he's outwardly and unabashedly kind in this iteration and I'm SO here for it !!! And it doesn't diminish his ability to be snarky and witty, he still throws jabs at his brothers, but I feel like this donnie is a return to form in the sense that the center of his character, the motivation for his intelligence and penitent for creation, is kindness- more importantly, empathy.

routinely he is described as thoughtful, 'non-threatening', and usually very placid; we see mention of his temper when his computers are messed with, but he's extraordinary patient- polite, even- with the killer robot chasing him, subway security, and the deaf conductor, all while under high-pressure stress. When confronting the Mechazoids for the first time, he keeps them at a distance and straight up complements the engineering ingenuity! Same when confronting bishop in the subway! He talks enthusiastically, respectfully, with her about her system setup! His first instinct is to diffuse the situation, approach her with humility and establish common ground. Dude like even when running away from the Mechazoid he was always thinking of the people around him.. he was telling everyone to get out of the way, waited for cars to clear (his brothers just straight ran through traffic and jumped over moving carsss), tried to usher people away from train cars he was fighting in, etc. And in the narrated recaps between episodes, donnie is the first brother to consider bishops motivations in an empathetic manner, "maybe she has a tragic back story". Of course that serves as thematic foreshadowing buy he was still the first to offer the kindness of reason to bishops character, maybe there's a reason she's doing this, not just anger that she is.

Not to mention he full ass built a robot to protect his brothers and took the extra time to program in impeccable manners. just for funsies heheh. eueueu Metalhead my beloveddddd😭🙏💙💙💙💙

ALL THIS and yet still, in episode 10, donnie considers himself non-emotional. He says he's 'all left brained' and implys that he operates differently from his brothers who he considers more outwardly emotionally expressive. And yet, in the same episode, he spends a majority of it comforting wingnut. He lends his ear and speaks to her kindly even when her panic exasperates their situation, he doesn't get mad when she freaks out, he takes the time to talk things through with her and make her comfortable whenever able. Even when they think Leatherhead has unmutated, he's sad but tries to put himself in her situation and understand her actions. HES SO SWEET IT HURTS DUDE ❗️❗️❗️ main point being, I dont think he considers himself emotional because he operates on a mode of empathy that is reason driven. He's emotionally logical, of that makes sense. It shows an INSANE amount of emotional intelligence and maturity, I just don't think he understands that because to him, this is logical, and his brother are anything but.

For a majority of his life, the only other people he has to compare himself to are his brothers. When up against anxiety riddled Leonardo, chronically angry Raph, and Mikey's carefree disregard, of course he sees himself and goes, 'ah ok. I must be less emotionally prone because I don't react like they do to these situations'.

I think he just understands the whole social song and dance of understanding better than he thinks.

I know the whole thing with tottmnt is the aspect of unreliable narration, but even then! Like if Leo wrote donnie like this then it probably because he routinely displays this kind of understanding behavior. Plus idk bout yall but I kinda consider the events of tottmnt as like a blurry semi-cannon? I think there are nuggest of truth in there, the broad strokes yk? Like the flood arc referenced 'the bishop situation' like it was a thing that actually happened, albiet in passing, and not just something to poke fun at Leo. It's got legs, there's ideas there to work with ajaja

[medusas-daughter]

When I think about it, Billy kinda gave the coven a canvas and the entire coven contributed to build the road we have at the end and I think that's kinda beautiful in a way.

Like .. Agatha had more control than the others and actually set up the rules because she had the knowledge that the road was being built by Billy's subconscious this entire time and because she co-wrote the Ballad in the first place but all of them contributed to it to some extent because Billy was soaking up everything all of them were saying.

Both because he is a telepath (so the road adds the knowledge of the other witches like alewife revenge) and because he agrees with them on what the road should be like: Lilia is the one who suggests they have to face theirs worst nightmares, Jen explains to Billy what a Green Witch does and that's how the last trial is about growth. The entire coven (except Agatha) agrees they can't cheat so they can't cheat and they all think the Green witch is indispensable (I think Jen is the one who says it first before the road).

Also Nicky is part of the creation of the road too without even being there !

Also the fact that Billy's subconsciously thought Agatha's worst nightmares was to put her in a 80s sleepover is kinda funny if I'm being honest.

The more I think about it, the more fun the twist become honestly.

I'm so sorry for the rant, I love your blog 💜

thank you so much for this please feel free to rant here anytime you want 💜

and you're so right they really did all contribute! even Mrs Hart contributed, she mentioned the old transportation system and the exit became an abandoned subway station

i think that's why Agatha panicked during the first trial and right before the last because she realized that she can't control every thing not even if she tries to manipulate him because he has his own beliefs and then he looks up to the other witches as well so they influence him just as much

Agatha's hallucination being the Darkhold in a baby craddle which has nothing to do with how Nicky died but is exacthy what Jen mentioned is also so brilliant, because he couldn't read Agatha's mind to figure out her worst nightmare so he just went with what Jen said

and putting Agatha, the most antisocial witch he's ever met, in a slumber party was hilarious he really said "punish Agatha" and meant it

it was so much fun rewatching after knowing the twist Lilia called the Road a death trap so every trial was a literal death trap Jen said the green witch is indispensable so when Rio leaves he says "we're right back at the beginning" and they immediately trip on their shoes right back at the beginning he says "I wish Lilia was here" and she just falls out the bookshelf like all these little moments became so much funnier poor guy was really making it up on the spot

and the way both Nicholas and Wanda were haunting the whole thing, Nicky with his song being the catalyst and Wanda with her magic creating it was so bittersweet

i'll admit when i first read this theory after like the first trial i hated it i thought it would be a cheap remake of "oh no a Maximoff is creating a fake reality again" but they managed to make it super fun and exciting and i love it now!

[ratwithhands]

Hi, Viewer Discretion:

This AU is about a nonexistent fictional mental health condition. There is imagery of straitjackets and other restraints, as well as mention of discrimination based off of health conditions. If you are uncomfortable with this content then please feel free to click off and enjoy something else. Thank you.

Dressing Sketch

Uniform Sketches

League Party sketch

Sketch dump for Battle Addict! This art has been gathering dust for a few months 😭 only just remembered to post it here.

These sketches are from Ver. 3 of Battle Addict, aka Battle Addict Twins, where both of them get the HCCM diagnosis.

The base idea for Battle Addict is that while most people enjoy Pokémon battling, there comes a certain point where one's love/obsession for battle starts bleeding into the rest of their life and becoming detrimental to their everyday life. This is usually called Combative Mania (CM), which is present in a large part of the population (40%-60%) hence why battling is so popular and so many different forms of it are made to keep people satisfied. The extreme form is Hyper-Competitive Combative Mania (HCCM), wherein a person spends so much time and energy for battles that it starts to affect their physical/mental health as well as their social life, since they neglect them in favour of their obsession.

Often what divides CM patients from HCCM patients is what they're willing to give up for battling and the extent of their knowledge regarding battles. CM patients usually only have a casual interest in battling or just enjoy the thrill of battling, but operate normally and have other interests outside of battle. They have basic to intermediate knowledge of battling, and can often partake in research or battles.

HCCM patients will often forgo food, water, sleep, school, work, and relationships in favour of researching and competing in battles. It is the only thing they find interest in and they devote most of their time towards it. Patients often memorize entire charts of statistics and different strategies and counterstrategies for battle, with different patients often having a certain subject they specialize in. Most patients with HCCM are unaware that they have it, they either assume that they have CM or that they are completely normal and just enjoy Pokémon battles. They often go into fields that work directly with researching Pokémon or battles, such as professors, scientists, gym leaders, elite four members, league workers, battle facility operators, and so on.

Ingo and Emmet do not know they have HCCM. They engage with battle and researching battle in a way that they think is typical for a hobbyist. Ingo tends to read on academic papers, textbooks, and study guides regarding the statistics and capabilities of Pokémon, whereas Emmet takes a more hands-on approach in studying Pokémon anatomy and battle strategy. Ingo often charts and studies natures, EVs, IVs, stat spreads, abilities, moves, and their properties. Emmet sketches anatomical diagrams and studies of Pokémon, including skeletal structure, musculature, organ systems, and physical appearance, highlighting pressure points in the body for executing the most damage and for keeping his own Pokémon protected. He also tends to read into psychological studies as well as conducting his own long term tests to predict a person's strategy in different situations. The two feed into each other's interests, teaching the other of their own discoveries and celebrating breakthroughs together. As a result, their total knowledge of battling is immense, which led to them becoming Subway Bosses straight out of college.

The two lived and worked fairly normally; they were very passionate about their work and it provided a way to sate their need for fighting on a regular basis, as well as giving them the space to experiment with different fighting styles and analyze others' strategies. Of course they still continue their studying outside of work, which often leads to them trying different methods or revisiting recorded battles to see how they could improve. The twins still believe their hours long discussions, piles of notes, and stacks of study materials littered around their house are perfectly fine, only stopping to reconsider after a comment from a coworker highlights how they must be crazy or incredibly disciplined to have as huge of a win : loss ratio as they do.

They end up taking the issue to a psychiatrist after dwelling on the idea for a few days, which is where they get diagnosed after a few tests and a description of their lifestyle and interests. Their case is considered moderate but could easily escalate into severe if left unchecked, though the main concern is whether this would make them a threat to other people due to their work and prominence. Obviously they don't want to lose their jobs, but this kind of thing could get them removed from the League Council if it got out, so they have to consider whether they share this information with their employers or not. Ingo thinks it'd be best to keep it under wraps, but Emmet fears that this could be used as blackmail and argues that they need to release this information themselves before someone else ruins their lives with it. Eventually they do take the diagnosis to the League Council and it gets out to the public.

Emmet takes the fall for Ingo, claiming his case is severe whereas Ingo's is mild so that the League Council will be more distracted with him to bother Ingo. That ends up with Emmet getting a new restraining uniform because the League no longer trusts him to handle himself in public based off his diagnosis. Neither of them are particularly pleased about this, but Emmet tells Ingo to look on the bright side. Emmet actually starts to find the jacket to be more of a little challenge than a hindrance, as it adds an extra level of difficulty to battles that he's been looking for, but Ingo still thinks it would be better if he hadn't had to wear it at all. This unfortunately extends to League parties where he has to be restrained to even be allowed entry, which he is much less happy about.

This post is getting ungodly long as it is but there's also a branch off of this concept where Ingo and Emmet land in Hisui together and Emmet's uniform looks like this. He deconstructed the uniform he was given to modify his jacket since by that point he had a bit of a sentimental connection to it and didn't want to just swap it out.

(Bonus fun fact: Ingo and Emmet decided to pull the biggest gag on the Pearl Clan when they first land by pretending to be one person under the alias Eki. Ingo is the polite one in the dark coat by day, and Emmet is the energetic one in the white coat by night. "Day Eki" is more popular with other Wardens and older clan members, whereas "Night Eki" is more popular with the village children and insomniacs.

The whole Warden Eki concept is technically its own AU in the background but it did originate from Battle Addict. Also I already drew Emmet in the Pearl Strait I can't take that back)

Anyways uhhh there's more let me see if I can condense it:

The twins went to a University specifically focused on battle (Champion's University), where they ended up studying subjects in their specific interests. Emmet took psychology of battle and Pokémon anatomy to learn about the weak points in trainers and Pokémon, and Ingo took general statistics and study of moves which are exactly what they sound like

The twins use the Vs Recorder all the time, both to track their own progress and to observe how passengers fight. It's often stuck to the glass windows to catch the Pokémon in the middle of the car, though they have considered buying Rotom Drones expressly for this purpose

Emmet actually has a stack of different studies on weak points in the human body but he doesn't share that with anyone, not even Ingo

Emmet's study of trainer psych has led to him often predicting tactics before they happen and dodging/countering them with his Pokémon. He often challenges himself to predict a person's team, moveset, and strategy based on appearance, gait, and body language, sharing his guesses with Ingo in case he makes any useful observations

Ingo and Emmet are possibly the first instance of causing "learned HCCM" in their Pokémon because after the training that they do together, the Pokémon have developed their own independent bloodlust and have started memorizing the move strategies that the twins have them use

Sometimes to celebrate fully completing a study on a particular set of Pokémon, the twins will eat one. This is mostly as a treat and an inside joke, but they will research what's in season/allowed and go hunt for one. Ingo is usually the one to catch it, and Emmet is the one to cook it. There's some really goofy shitposts about them going after pseudo-legendaries overseas, or Palkia's leg in Hisui

The twins can perform full medical care on any Pokémon and can often grind for hours nonstop since they can heal their teams themselves. They also save a lot on healing items this way

After releasing their diagnosis, the perception of the twins have gone in wildly different directions. Some people treat them as subhuman or as monsters, some people don't care, some people call them psycho yandere boys on twitter. Emmet tends to get more of the negative connotations, Ingo tends to get the more "positive" ones. Emmet also tends to get a lot of stares due to his restraint and status as a crazed fighter, which he pretends doesn't get to him

I think that's everything, I'm going to go collapse. Hope you guys enjoy 👍

[strqyr]

this isn't super serious, but the most unrealistic thing in rwby (to me) is the apparent lack of any preparation for grimm invasion within the kingdoms or... anywhere, really.

where are the bunkers / shelters everyone knows to head to, specifically made for this scenario? where are the monthly tests of alarm systems? the stockpiles of food and medicine? you're living in a place surrounded by monsters who want to kill you and subway tunnels are the best you can do?? do you even want to survive??? /j

like yeah weaving that all in naturally might be difficult, but it's like. it feels like it should be a norm to the characters living in that setting? like someone just randomly mentioning their grimm-proof basement with everything needed to survive for x amount of time bc that's completely normal in the world—especially for those living far away from a city or a town—where you have no idea when, let alone if, the help is going to come.

plus it could make an interesting plot point if all the kingdoms did have these systems in place, but one / some of them got so comfortable with their current situation, believing the grimm could never breach their walls etc, that all of it was eventually de-funded and thus not kept up to date, which then would prove to be a costly mistake on a later date.

[loppsided]

s. reid with bau reader

summary: spencer dating someone who works at the bau

pairing: spencer reid x reader

wc: 337

warnings: mentions kidnapping

a/n: omg!! im sooo sorry for not posting, these last few weeks have been so hectic for me, even though its fall break ive been swamped. im going to write a few fics to hold down for a few days but after i might go ia due to school starting up again ! also! i will try my hardest to get to requests. reblogs and likes appreciated.

him bringing you coffee every morning

if you don't have a car like him, you take the subway together, he reads to you on the train ride back home after work

you probably kept your relationship strictly professional the first few years you worked there but slowly warmed up to him

takes your casework so you can have less

waits for you by your desk to finish your casework so you can leave together

holding hands and subconsciously playing footsies at the round table

hearing him go on all those random rants and never stopping him because you love them

falling asleep on/next to each other on the plane

playing solitaire or uno on the plane rides back home and being loud as hell

checking your for cuts or bruises after cases that go wrong

if anything ever happened to you like being kidnapped or hurt he would be a mess

trying very hard to get you back, even trying to find the unsub by himself

or pacing back in forth in the hospital waiting room after you got hurt and are in surgery

taking care of you when your better and being scared of you going back into the field

spending the few breaks you get each year together

him letting you meet his mother after 8-12 months of dating

having lunch together everyday at your desks

spending the night at each others houses after hard cases

comforting each other after emilys passing and after she came back

him reading to you on the plane to calm your mind and get you to sleep

getting close faster than normal couples since your always together

because of that you said 'i love you' 2-4 months in

fiddling with his hands, tracing all the veins and his finger nails to distract yourself

sitting at his bedside holding his hand when he was in the hospital for either getting shot or the anthrax attack

being a constant support system for one another for this emotionally taxing job

[charismaofobedience]

what makes you think mikoto is good rep? specifically, what is it about double that convinces you?

Okay okay, it took me some time to perfectly articulate my thoughts on how MIkotos system isn't horrible rep and instead was tackled... Somewhat well? This was also written after me and another friend who's a system discussed this extensively and how our own situations lowkey match the situation Mikoto himself is facing. Under the cut because I did *not* expect this to get so long </3

To start it off with some debunking of things people have been mentioning as "oh but this proves he's not a system" (after Milgram itself confirmed them as one but oh well), the whole thing on how DID only appears during childhood isn't... Really the full truth? The most common thing to happen with DID is, instead, for someone to develop the conditions for it through their childhood, but the symptoms only start showing when older. I myself was a case of that and while it started around my 6 years, we only had our first split at 14. Mikotos just happen to be later. I personally also think that, during the phone call with his mom, there wouldn't just have a random baby crying noise for no reason. He probably developed it that early, but just didn't split until recently, however that's just my own reading and not anything confirmed.

For the point of "but then, why don't the milgram rules work on John if he is indeed the killer? This proves it's Mikoto who killed", just look at irl court cases of systems. The one being judged will always be the host almost all the times, after all, he's the main one who fronts, and not whichever alter committed the murder. The host and body would be the one in jail etc in a real life prison, not the alter who committed it. Milgram is a perfect parallel to that, with Mikoto being restrained and the Es barrier working on him even if he didn't commit any murder while John, the alter and one who committed the crime, doesn't has any restraints or barrier that work on him. Because Mikoto is the host and core of their system, not John.

Second, some quick system terminology. I'll be using the terms host, protector/persecutor and dormancy on this, so for a quick understanding: Host means that, basically, that alter is the one who mainly fronts and takes care of things, may or may not be the core ("original" person), but at Mikotos case I'll assume he's both the core and the host. Protector is what the name implies, they're alters who have as their purpose to protect the system and body. Persecutors just so happen to be protectors who have more drastic means to do things and will inherently be harmful to the system in a way in another, they are not necessarily bad, and might instead just be misguided and think what they are doing is a solution for a issue and that by doing so they're protecting the system. Finally, dormancy is when an alter of a system... Well, goes into dormancy. They can't come to front anymore and will be "asleep" for some time or even forever depending on the conditions. A inclusion is also possible, where two alters (or more) will become one etc, but I don't think that will be the case for Mikoto.

So, as it's settled, Mikoto is the Host and Core of the system and Orekoto/John is the Protector/Persecutor of it. Let's get to the explanation now.

Mikoto's split seemingly very much occurred due to the stress situation he had been feeling from his work. We have John welcoming him home twice through the mv and noticing that Mikoto isn't smiling or anything when coming home anymore and it isn't the only times judging by the "another day" mention. We can see on the second one he's either getting the subway to go home or go to work (probably the first one), but on the first time it's said we get to see Mikoto's phone and, specifically, messages coming through and through.

All the texts are coming from his boss, and from the looks of it Mikoto works for a black company in Japan, so it's no wonder he's stressed and very clearly depressed there. Judging by the time Mikoto would be going back home at midnight and, at that time, he's texted by his boss that he needs to remake a whole product and correct mistakes from another thing for the next day of work, and with "next day" you can bet they mean "when i see you in around 10 hours". For now, this is the main reasoning and sustenance we have for "but why did he split?", aka, Mikoto was under a lot of stress on work and it lingered even when he was home to the point that, eventually, John split as himself and, as himself said, he's got Mikoto, and he could leave it all to him.

By this point I like to think it was already John fronting to reply to the boss call. John got tired of Mikoto overworking himself to the brink of breaking down to appease to his boss and superiors and, wanting to help, came to front to "take it all on" in his own words. I think bringing MeMe up for Double discussion is extremely important because we have to remember that MeMe was visibly only from Mikoto's point of view while in Double we have John telling his own point of view. I don't think Mikoto is lying about not knowing he's a system etc, but instead that Mikoto thinks something is wrong, yes, that he knows whoever this person ruining his life is both not him and him at the same time (mirror scene), but isn't aware exactly that he's a system. John is portrayed as scary and evil and cruel etc in MeMe because that's what Mikoto assumes to be happening, Mikoto doesn't know whatever John is doing and what are his intentions, we knew since them Mikoto is the type of guy to take things happening to him lightly (joking about the milgram situation etc) because he may think he deserves it, and this extended to his work and personal life. Through MeMe we see Mikoto looking sad and not smiling anytime until we got to the ending in the headspace where he's sitting on the couch somewhat smiling, but not looking downright miserable like he is in double because Mikoto's main focus was that there is some scary guy there, not that his work life was putting him under so much strain to the point of splitting. Hell, his work life was never brought up until Double anyways, because Mikoto didn't think it was important and kept playing as if it was cool (even during the call with his mom in Double, as John showed us) and that he could handle it, meanwhile Double has John showing us just how miserable Mikoto looked after work and some situations that would happen on his day to day work, how he never went back home smiling etc. MeMe has a bigger focus on Mikoto, as a Host, not knowing that he's a system and how scary that can feel when you're fully unaware of why you're seemingly doing certain actions that you're not aware of when they're brought up to you, meanwhile Double focuses on his alter, John, telling us about his own motivations and the truth about Mikoto's daily life, showing us that whatever it is he did was to protect Mikoto because being a protector is his role in the system. Mikoto didn't take his issues seriously in MeMe, and in Double John gives us a glimpse on how bad it was. For Mikoto, all of his personal issues were coming from the fact that there was an Evil Scary Serial Killer guy around, while John tells us that nuh uh, it was capitalism all along and he'll protect Mikoto from that stress.

The voice drama also tracks some of these points, such as Es mentioning that Mikoto laughs whenever he's troubled and rarely gets angry or frustrated, ignoring problems, and Es mentioning that John acts more rationally, contrary to what he expected... After all, Es' only views of John came from MeMe as a mv, and then from John getting angry and frustrated as Es because, in the beginning, to John it all felt like people were trying to trouble and hurt Mikoto yet again. He was just doing his job as a protector.

I've seen most people say that the "made me a scoundrel" refers to us, the viewers, but also... I feel it might also just be John talking with Mikoto himself. Mikoto saw John as a evil bad alter on MeMe as we just discussed, and from what we see here... Yes, John is violent and impulsive, but he's still a protector who did things with the goal of "I need to protect Mikoto" in mind. We didn't knew that through the entirety of MeMe because Mikoto himself didn't know, and John might be frustrated that the guilty verdict could have come only because Mikoto portrayed himself in such a way first and foremost. John asks him why he's crying because I'm fairly sure he isn't aware that Mikoto isn't aware of him either. The main issue at play here is the fact their system communication is horrible if not non existent. They can't communicate with each other properly for some reason even through writing etc, so there's no way for them to be certain of how the other feels. There's no way for Mikoto to know why John was doing all that. There's no way for Mikoto to know John was trying to protect and help him.

John in the middle of Double even states that he doesn't know why he's there. So yes, most of us are all assuming it was all due to Mikoto's stress with work, but hell we could all be wrong because, again, Mikoto refuses to open up and actually talk about issues with anyone. "Come to know me as an honest man" is John asking for all of us and Es to go and know him as himself, as John the alter, and not the vision Mikoto had of him on MeMe and the entirety of trial one. Because yes, you can't change the violent nature of his, but we should at least come to know and understand that he is a protector and was simply trying his best to protect Mikoto from something (what? We don't know and can't be sure, but yet again, our best bet for now is his job). John is seemingly willing to open up more this trial, admitting he is indeed the one who committed the murder and asking Es to understand the situation they're being put under, with Mikoto feeling stressed and please forgive him, because Mikoto is not the one who committed the murders. I'm sure we will get more on their situation etc when the questions for Mikoto and Kotoko come, but for now we only have that.

John simply wished to save and protect Mikoto, he himself doesn't know how it all ended like *this* (Mikoto as guilty and not innocent, running away from him on the train because, again, Mikoto isn't aware John is simply trying to help him). Having John asking us to forgive Mikoto many times through both the mv (first image of these 3) and voice drama (next screenshot) basically affirms his beliefs and wishes, that he wants us to guilt him, but not Mikoto. After all, if we get another guilty verdict? In his own words Mikoto will go into dormancy due to the stressful situations of having two guilty verdicts in a row, but if Mikoto gets a innocent this time around? Then, there will be less need for John to front... After all, if the situation becomes a bit more calming for them, then John's purpose of protecting Mikoto will be gone for some time... What we can't have, however, Is Mikoto going into dormancy and then forcing John as the new host, because John wouldn't know what to do by then. He was born to be a protector and his identity is intrinsically connected to this role, the duty of protecting Mikoto, for him, comes above him as his own person. With Mikoto's dormancy, John himself would lose his purpose and motive of existing.

And even so, John apologizes at the end of the milgram, questioning even his own existence that "none of this wouldn't have happened if I wasn't even born". In John's eyes, he failed on his role of a protector by getting Mikoto into this situation. The protector guilt is shown so greatly on John that I did tear up a bit when first watching the Double mv and reading the lyrics. The fact they expanded away from the "scary evil alter" troupe that Mikoto made us belief in trial 1 into a protector/persecutor who feels guilt that his actions caused harm to the host? Into a protector with low empathy who cares more for the well being of their host than his own? Mikoto was neutral on the scale of "is this good system rep" for me initially because, again, Mikoto himself didn't know he was a system. Now we got more information on how things work thanks to John and, from the feelings of how scary finding out there's someone else besides you to the fear of realizing that the person who did whatever the hell it was wasn't you mentally, but it physically was you at the same time is terrifying. I think their writing was very well handled to cover the topics of fear and guilt from both sides. Mikoto is still a host who's unaware of the fact he's a system. John is a protector who feels like he failed on his role after getting Mikoto into this mess. Their communication, due to seemingly being a recent split, is non existent so they cant fully talk with each other to comprehend the other. To me, this is a perfect example of how it felt when I myself found out I wasn't a singlet. I don't think Mikoto's writing is perfect and has no flaws, not at all, but on the grander scale of things? Having this type of rep coming from a japanese song media franchise is great and almost unseen since it's mostly always used as a joke or for the scary evil alter trope alone. Milgram and the team could do some stuff better, sure, but from what we have right now? It's far from me of calling them "bad system representation". After all, just like John tells Mikoto, they're both doing their best.

[unholyhelbig]

werewolf kate RAH i love your fics

Title: What? I've Seen Twilight [A Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot Oneshot]

Summary: It's been six years since reader has been out on her own, but now that she and Kate have an apartment in the city together, the last thing they're expecting is old company.

Trigger warnings: Sadness, angst, burns (Physical), general emotional distress, therapy,very brief mentions of assult, and spelling mistakes.

A/n: I went a little wild with this one. It's way longer than I intended, but jesus, did I have fun.

Read the Full Series:

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six, Part Seven]

Kate Bishop’s height advantage killed most situations. She could ride every rollercoaster, and one could spot her in a crowd of people as they bustled in and out of the New York Subway system. She could easily lead you, just the same, her large hand engulfing yours and making sure that you’d be able to stick together.

Kate hated her height sometimes. When she was a child, she was approached by her high school gym teacher that begged her to be on the basketball team. She was lanky and awkward, sitting on a whisp of a bench.

She’d wanted to join the team, but her father was vehemently against sports. He said that it worked her up too much and she’d be a danger to society if her adrenaline became too high for her to manage, as it often was. It was just one of those rules that were accompanied by breathing exercises and the occasional sedative.

You’d never made Kate feel an aversion to her height, in fact, you utilized it to your advantage. You’d curl up in her arms, slotted against her body. Her height could nearly swallow you whole. It was no trouble for you to ask for her to reach for certain things that were out of your grasp.

She had a horrible advantage when it came to hanging things, however. Everything was crooked, including the painting she was frustratingly trying to level over a crisping water stain. She’d worked up a sweat, blowing strands that had fallen from her ponytail from her face.

You came up behind her, wrapping your arms around her toned stomach. You were too short to rest your chin on her shoulder, so you settled for nuzzling into her back instead, breathing in the lemon scent of her. Kate let a smile spread across her face, sighing into your warmth. “Remind me why we decided to move out of the compound again?”

“Because we’re engaged and wanted some form of privacy.” You mumbled into her spine.

She beamed and turned in your arms. You much preferred this side of her. You were able to tuck your head under her chin. The painting took a hard left and slid into a diamond shape on the wall. A rumbling growl moved through her chest, vibrating against your ear.

“Was that your stomach or your frustration?”

“I think maybe it was both. Where’d you put the takeout menus?”

“Drawer by the fridge, we can’t make a habit of ordering out though.”

Kate detached herself from you and crossed the mostly bare living room to the kitchen. She rifled through them until she found her prize, a menu from the Tex-Mex place that had opened up down the street. They had massive portions, and that always worked in both your favors with the appetites you carried.

“We’re not going to make a habit. I just think we deserve a little treat after moving everything up six flights of stairs. Don’t you?”

The motivation to cook had left your body between floor three and four. You were determined to prove to Steve and Natasha that you were both more than capable of being on your own. It took months of convincing, and you’d even considered making a power point to demonstrate how responsible you’d be.

It didn’t’ come to that, just a promise (and then a pinky-swear) that the two of you would return back to the compound the week of the full moon. It was an easy compromise. In fact, it even made you feel safer. There was infinite space, and it was the only place you’d ever gone through a transition. Dozens, at this point, possibly hundreds.

“Fine, just this once, and only if you get extra nachos.”

“Okay, bossy. You can brave the copious number of stairs and pick up the order, then.”

That seemed like a fair enough deal. You dawned your coat, the sound of thunder a few miles away having reached your ears. Most things, you’d learned to tune out; the sound of traffic, voices from the multiple families that lived around you. But you would actively seek thunder, enjoying the rain and the dryness you could secure.

Kate pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving your arm a squeeze, a silent plea to be careful. You always were, both at the compound and here during your trips to the city. The apartment building the both of you had rented from was far from swanky. The hallways were lined with polished wood and a fresh paint-job made it look semi-presentable.

It was the quintessential first apartment experience that you’d been craving. It made you feel normal. Living here with your fiancé. A small smile worked its way onto your lips. This was a big step, possibly the biggest you’d taken since you’d followed Kate to the compound in the first place. To your family.

You shoved your hands in your pockets as you walked down the hallway, nearly brushing shoulders with a woman who had her head turned down, struggling to find her keys. She grunted, struggling to keep a paper bag filled with produce righted.

“Jesus Christ,” her muted growl alerted you more.

Not even a full day in the city and you decided to break one of Natasha’s rules. Don’t involve yourself. Which you thought was overkill. She became strict in that way, the insinuation that you shouldn’t talk to strangers on the tip of her tongue. But you weren’t moving here to be a recluse. A simple favor wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

“Here,” you scooped the bag gently from her hands, saving a particularly ripe orange “Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, thank you. I know that paper bags are great for the environment, but they turn to mush when it rains. It makes everything ten times harder.”

Her words died in her throat when her eyes met yours. You took a defensive step back, your mouth suddenly dry and muddy. Those eyes. You cursed yourself for not knowing sooner. She’d straightened her hair, wore a suit that was wrinkled from almost an hour of transit.

She looked older, tired around the eyes. It had been six years.

MJ was at a loss for words, just as you were. Her groceries were still in your hand, the bag finally giving way and spilling oranges, apples, and two soft peaches onto the floor. Neither of you made a move to gather them.

“Let me help you pick these up.”

“I think you’ve done enough.”

The two of you remained frozen. You’d moved in three doors down from someone you’d shared your first three years of college with. The last you’d seen her, she’d been wolfing down mac and cheese, looking queasy as you’d left your key on the coffee table.

A crack of thunder snapped you both out of your staring match. Kate could hear you, you knew she could. It wasn’t that she pried but she did keep an ear out for the cadence of your voice. You didn’t want to worry her, and you certainly didn’t want MJ to see her. Not yet, maybe not ever.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” She turned away and struggled to stick her key in the lock. Her hands were trembling. She worried her lip between her teeth, a nervous habit that reminded you of when she held her tongue. She often failed.

“Okay, alright.” You threw your hands up in an act of surrender, scooting past her, careful to avoid the fallen fruit. “I’m sorry… about your groceries.”

You made it three more steps before her voice rang out again.

“About my groceries?” Her voice was harsh, you winced, stopping in your tracks. “You’re apologizing for ruined produce after what you did?”

At this, you turned, a small bit of anger in your stare. Maybe Natasha was right, as she usually always is. You should just keep your nose down, stay away from other people at least while you got settled. You’d been plunged into ice water, the realization that this city may be gigantic, but so incredibly small.

MJ closed the distance between you, her breath hot on your collarbone. It was startling, but your wolf reacted as it typically did, without fear and with a heir of competition. It figured you threatened, your nails curling into your palm hard enough to draw blood.

“You know, the police didn’t take us seriously. We went to them a week after you left, and they wouldn’t let us file a missing persons report because you left willingly. America, god, she wasn’t convinced. She spent months putting up posters around campus, at train stations. And people called, but not about you. Just to be needlessly cruel.”

The sting of her words made you tremble, your eyes downcast and your hands shoved back in your pocket. Each breath you took felt like needles being shoved forcefully into your throat and twisted until it touched your esophagus. You were going to vomit.  

“One second you were there, and the next you were gone, y/n. We never stopped searching. Anyone who looked like you, smelled like you… just reminded us that you’d run off with some stranger after being an absolute psycho for the week. I mean, for fucks sake! Your mother was devastated!”

“My mother?” Your eyes finally found purchase in her own.

“Yeah,” MJ breathed out, shoulders slumping. “Or did you forget her as well?”

“I didn’t…” You took a step back. Tears threatened to spill over, so you averted your stare back to the ground, quickly wiping them away with your fingers. “I could never forget about any of you. I left to protect you.”

“From what?” She’d gotten quieter, her voice breaking. She looked like she wanted to reach out and embrace you, but stopped herself. “Because America is going to be here any minute, and god help me, y/n, if you don’t have a better answer than that, you can’t let her see you. You can’t put her through that again.”

You took another step towards your apartment. You’d lost your appetite, your sureness in each step that you took. There was a roiling pit in your stomach that threatened to make your breakfast reappear. MJ watched you for a few moments. You were retreating again, and the sadness in her eyes cut into you like a finely sharpened knife.

She let out another breath and knelt down to collect the fruit that had splayed across the floor. She averted her gaze and you let her. There was no explanation that you could muster up without risking everything you’d worked so hard for, every moment of pain that ripped through you once a month. Years spent learning control.

The anxiety had fully built up in your chest by the time you made it the two doors down to your apartment. You shut it as softly as you could, pressing your back against the wooden door slathered in a deep forest green that reminded you of home. Your home.

The two of you had fought so diligently to get out of the compound and now all you wanted to do was retreat back into solitude, away from the world and the people you had wronged long ago. They were easy to push to the back of your mind when you didn’t see them every single day.

Of course, you never forgot them, you couldn’t. But there was a clear separation between your life before that night in the woods, and your life after. You had long ago admitted that you much preferred this one. Even if you did have dreams of finding your mother when you had the chance. Finding America and MJ. This was certainly not on your terms.

Kate was in front of you instantly, cupping both your cheeks and running her thumbs over the dampness. She didn’t’ say a word, and you were suddenly thankful for her inhuman hearing capabilities. You wouldn’t be able to explain, to tell her what made your throat so incredibly tight with grief.

Her height made it easy to tuck yourself against her, quivering as you cries were muffled against your chest. She radiated a warmth that calmed you like no other. Part of your nature, the connection the two of you carried. She could take your pain away, just as you could do the same. It evened your rapid breaths, her hand cupping your head.

She shocked you, her voice a low whisper. “I think you should tell them the truth.”

“What?”

Your voice was nasally and marred with snot. Kate gave you a sympathetic smile, moving her hand through your hair. She’d seen you at your absolute worst, and you weren’t exactly a beautiful crier. Her statement was jarring enough, though disarming.

“All those years ago, I told you that you’d be able to come back once you gained control of your wolf. And you’ve done that, you put in the work, you’ve embraced what we are. The reason for going to the compound in the first place was to protect the ones you love, and you can still do that.”

She dipped her head and your forehead pressed against hers. You stared into her startlingly blue eyes. They were genuine and so full of love.

“I mean it, sweetie. They deserve answers, I think we both know that.”

“Yeah… they do.”

It was easy enough to slip a note under MJ’s door. You figured she went to work early and returned late. There was a solid window of time for you to act. The letter contained your phone number, and an offer to talk, if she was willing.

It took three agonizing days of pacing the small length of the apartment, painting and repainting the bathroom, and busying yourself with little tasks. Kate had mastered hanging artwork and the two of you had finally made a trip to the grocery store instead of ordering from pizza places and diners that did take-out.

Kate was laying on her back on the second-hand sofa that the two of you had purchased and dragged up the stairs with little to no difficulty. She was skimming through a book she had to read for one of her classes, and the slow rhythm of her heartbeat had lulled you into a less than peaceful sleep.

Your cell phone was clenched in one hand, hanging off the side of the couch, full body weight snuggled up close to Kate, a blanket spread across you both. When your phone buzzed you shot up, knocking your forehead against Kate’s chin, she let out a startled grunt.

“Sorry, baby” You soothed your hand over the slowly growing red spot on her skin, simultaneously staring at your phone.

Unknown [3:00pm]: I’ll consent to dinner tonight. America may or may not be there.

Unknown [3:02pm]: 6:00, don’t be late.  

“I thought you said MJ was the nice one.” Kate set her book aside, peering at the messages you had received.

“She is… was. I don’t know anymore.”

Your antsy energy seemed to work in your favor when it came to preparing a dinner that was actually edible. Wanda had been teaching you to cook for the last few years, and it had been a difficult skill for you to pick up. She’d helped you master a dish from her birthplace that had quickly become one of Kate’s favorites.

She leaned against the counter and watched you cook as she always did, stretching up to retrieve the spices that were a little far past your reach. She handed you the paprika, kissing the back of your neck as you placed the chicken in the pan. You worked nervously, and methodically.

Despite Kate’s constant reassurances that they would love it, you weren’t much concerned about the food choices. Of course, you wanted it to be edible. But it could have been pizza all the same. There wouldn’t be much eating, you were sure. Even your appetite had been spoiled.

You panned the chicken onto a plate of rice and left it on the counter for Kate. She glanced down at it with confusion and then back up at you. “I’m not going, am I?”

“Darling, I would love nothing more. But, I’m certain that you being there will exacerbate things.”

Kate frowned, her lip jutting out in a borderline pout. You scoffed, gripping both of her arms. “They don’t know you like I do, Katie. They don’t know you at all.”

“Yeah,” She sighed “I know you’re right. This is just a hard thing to do and I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m not alone. You’ll be listening the whole time.

It was a comforting fact, but did nothing to quell the swirling in your stomach when you stood in front of MJ’s door. It was much too late to turn back, though everything in your body screamed at you to do so.

Before you could knock, she opened the door. She dawned an oversized flannel and a t-shirt for a band that you didn’t recognize. Her hair was damp, the scent of mint from her bodywash enveloping you. You’d missed the smell, missed her, but didn’t make a move to advance. She sniffed the air herself, raising an eyebrow. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was impressed by the meal you’d shoved in Tupperware.

 “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I almost didn’t.”

She narrowed her eyes at you but opened the door wider and gestured to the living room vaguely. You took in the deep blue walls, and the multitude of thrifted artwork that made it feel homey as opposed to cluttered. There was a warmth to her apartment that you and Kate hadn’t yet cultivated.

In a midcentury modern chair next to a large record player, was America. Your grip tightened against the dish, careful not to shatter it, something easily done with your strength. Spilling chicken paprikas all over the carpets would not a good impression make.

America’s rural eyes scanned from your boots to the collar of your shirt, stopping just shy of your own stare. She’d aged, but it was less noticeable through her fierce scowl. A black t-shirt hugged her frame, her hair curly and flowing across her shoulders. Tattoos stretched evenly over her biceps and forearms, ones you didn’t’ dare move to get a better look at.

She stood, setting her glass of wine down on the coffee table. MJ worked the Tupperware from your hands. She moved silently towards the kitchen. You could feel the tension in the air. It made your wolf nervous. You swallowed back a whine.

Her eyes flashed in anger. “It really is you. When MJ told me that she’d run into you, I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t, because if you’ve been alive this entire time, and just chose to keep us in a constant hell of wondering, then I’d never be able to forgive you.”

“You have every right to be angry.”

“Maldita derecha, I do!” She shoved you back. You were startled by her strength, but still caught yourself with a small step back.

“Hey, relax. She’s here to explain, right?”

MJ stood behind the kitchen island, her fingers drumming on the countertop. Maybe she’d been given a chance to cool off, though there was still trepidation in her stare. You let out a small breath, throat suddenly tight.

“What?” America shoved your shoulder again, you could smell the alcohol in her breath “Does this bother you? Are you going to tuck your tail and vanish for another six years?”

Again, she pushed you back, this time with more force. You stood strong, letting her show her rage, her hatred towards you. Hell, you hated you in this moment. Your skin prickled, seeing her as a threat. You were sure that Kate, down the hall, was pacing with the same pent-up worry.

MJ urged “Meri, come one, let her be. We’ll eat dinner, and she’ll tell us what happened.”

“And what if we don’t like the answer?” She turned her venomous stare on the other woman. “What if we prefer that she had died and spared us all the pain?”

A brittle silence fell over the room. You were trapped within the walls of the apartment, ears ringing. Even if you could focus your mind hard enough to hear past it’s confinement, you didn’t want to. Your blood was rushing hard enough to create a ringing in your ears.

MJ had dropped the fork she was using to shovel food onto respective plates. America’s shoulders dropped. She opened her mouth and closed it again like a fish deprived of water. Her voice came out in a sand-paper whisper. “I didn’t mean that.”

“No, you did, and that’s okay.”

“It’s not.” MJ had abandoned her task and instead flopped down on one end of the sofa. She moved a throw pillow and gestured for you both to sit. “Both of you, we need to talk about this. It’s defined us for too long and we won’t get anywhere by hurling horrible words at one another.”

Cautiously, America returned back to her chair and you sat stiffly on the other end of the sofa. It would be better for them to both hate you. But, MJ’s usual rationale had kicked in and that scared the hell out of you. You ran your hands over your jeans, trying to find purchase in them.

America’s sharpness was back. “Well?”

“Okay, alright. Just… I need you both to keep an open mind before I get into this. I’ve never had to explain what happened before and, well shit, it’s going to be a lot to take in.”

You pleaded silently with them, flitting your eyes from one to the other. MJ nodded first and eventually America gave you a course gesture that you interpreted as agreeance. You could hear both of their hearts beating, perhaps harder than your own.

“The night before that stupid frat party, I didn’t fall asleep in the library. Something happened.”

“lo sabia.”

“I know you did, which is why I did everything in my power to avoid the both of you until I left. I didn’t know what was happening and the last thing I wanted to do was throw you into something that I couldn’t even begin to understand. I was feeling weird, and overwhelmed. Confused. You’ve always been too good at reading me. You’d both know in an instant that I’d been attacked if I was truthful with you.”

“Attacked?” MJ rasped, “You could have come to us, y/n. I’ve been fighting every single day of my career to make sure that Universities are a safe and forthcoming place. Even with campus police being absolute garbage, we would have found some way to help.”

You looked at her with soft admiration, guilt soaking your voice. “It wasn’t like that. I was walking home from the library and knew that I was being followed. I thought it was a person at first, but it wasn’t. The faster I moved, the faster she did. It didn’t matter how quick I was, is the point. Because it wasn’t a human that attacked me, it was a wolf.”

“A wolf You’re expecting us to sit here and believe that a wolf somehow escaped a zoo and miraculously hunted you down? I’m sorry, baby, but that’s the most bullshit excuse I’ve ever heard.” She laughed humorlessly and moved to stand.

“I told you to keep an open mind.” You pleaded, “I’m begging you, please. Just let me finish. And if you want me to leave after that. If you both want me to leave, then I will. You’ll never hear from me again.”

It would be easy to return to the compound, shield yourself from the world and make sure that neither of them had to live with the turmoil you’d caused all those years ago. You could feel sweat at the back of your neck, mouth dry in comparison.

She leveled you with a skeptical stare but sat back down, this time swiping her wine from the counter. She took a long gulp, the red staining her lips with a pink tint. The quiet urged you forward and your stomach clenched in nausea.

“It had bitten me, right through the shoulder and it was some of the most intense pain that I had ever experienced. I was certain that I was going to die there, alone and no one would find me for weeks, maybe even months. I have never been more terrified.”

Your hand moved up to rub the pulsing scar just below your t-shirt. You could feel the hardened tissue, the indents that Kate’s teeth made before they tore through tendons and ground your bones to a shattered powder.

You pulled the fabric away, shivering from the suddenly cold air against your skin. MJ gasped, closing the gap between the two of you on the sofa. She was gentle, running her own fingers over the scar, the large-mouthed pockmarks that could only be that of an animal.

“Jesus Christ, y/n. Does it still hurt?”

“Not anymore. It just serves a reminder, is all.” America was looking at you in disbelief, her confidence in your falsehood wavering. “When you called the next morning, I was just thankful to wake up, and rushed back to the apartment so I didn’t worry you anymore than I already had.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” America asked.

You shook your head “I couldn’t understand what had happened. Just like you, I didn’t think there were wolves in New York. If I was having some type of break due to stress, I didn’t want to drag the two of you down either.”

“You can’t just decide how we’d react to things, y/n. If you had asked for help, explained what had happened, we would have been there for you.”

“I know that… and I was going to tell you both, I was. But by the second day, the bite was just gone. There was no evidence that anything had happened, and I was starting to doubt myself. At least I was, until Kate.”

That fury returned to America’s eyes. If you didn’t’ clock it in her stare, you would have in the way she smelled. The metallic edge overtook any other scent in the room, including the boisterous spices on the Paprikash. “Oh? Is that her name? I figured we were chasing a ghost for all those years.”

“We know who she is. Your mother… she was insistent that your father hire a private investigator. She knew that your behavior was out of the ordinary, but he wasn’t convinced, so she fought him tooth and nail. They had a name, and a last known address. But that was it. Her trail went cold too. It was like the two of you just vanished into thin air.”

Your heart seized at the admission, but you swallowed it back, locked it away for something to deal with later. It was one person at a time, and your mother was untouchable, something you refused to acknowledge until you were standing on her doorstep with your apologies and your broken sobs.

You cleared your throat, making a point to shove your hand with the simple golden band on it into your pocket. That was another conversation you weren’t willing to have at this point.

“Right, yes. Kate. She’s helped me tremendously over the years.” You drew in a breath, bracing yourself for the next statement. “In fact, she caused it.”

“She… caused it? Please, y/n. I may not like the girl but what you’re insinuating…”

“You’re saying she’s the one that bit you?” MJ let out a nervous chuckle “That, or unlatched the cage at the zoo.”

Another silence fell over the room. You gave them a nervous smile. God- this was absolutely harder than you expected. They didn’t’ say anything, they just stared at you blankly, and then at each other. Then, it was back to you. There was something akin to pity in their stares that you didn’t appreciate.

They thought you were insane and suddenly, it was like the glass coffee table had shattered and they were afraid that if they stepped too hard, it would cut the soles of their feet. MJ even reached her hand out and placed it on your knee. You shivered at the touch.

“Listen, I know neither of you believe me, but it’s why I had to leave.” Your voice broke. “I was so afraid that I was going to hurt you. I-I mean what if I lost control? Back then, I didn’t have a handle on any of this, so I went to a place that was safe. A place that taught me how to control it.”

“It being… Lycanthropy?” America stood up now, started pacing from the edge of her chair to the front door and then back again. “You know, we worked a case ages ago and the fifteen-year-old son of a wealthy couple believed that he was a werewolf.”

“Meri, please. Don’t psychoanalyze her.”

“Shouldn’t we? Y/n, this is an actual thing. It’s called Lycomania. It’s a form of psychosis, and with the right medications, the right therapies-“

“It’s not psychosis!” You stood from the couch, suddenly feeling frantic, like a caged animal. She was a social worker, or at least, that’s what she was studying to be. From her wording, you figured she’d gotten there just fine. “I’m not making any of this up.”

“It’s a little hard to believe, is all.”

MJ had reached up from the couch and took your hand, soothed it over your knuckles. It was like a horrible game of good cop, bad cop, and you wanted no part of it. You knew that there would be some disbelief, but the way America’s fingers inched towards her cell phone worried you.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. It’s impossible to believe, but you both deserve the truth. I need you to believe me.”

“I believe that you believe.” America said softly, “Please, y/n/n, just come get checked out with us. If you’re a… werewolf, then what’s the harm?”

You took a deep breath, glancing down at MJ who hugged a throw pillow flush against her chest. She was pleading with her stare, begging you to agree. And America, God, she looked like she was about to bolt or throttle you. But there was a kindness behind her eyes that you missed dearly.

“This was a mistake. Look, I just wanted to come here and apologize for everything I put you through. I want you to know that I mean it, and you both are very important to me.” You took a step towards the door, rolling your eyes when America stepped in front of it, crossing her arms over her chest. “Seriously?”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“If you’re a werewolf, and this isn’t some type of mental break, then prove it. Show us what you’ve got.”

A dry laugh escaped you, one of disbelief. You glanced back at MJ, she looked nervous, but didn’t’ object to the demand. You’d grown so used to living in a home with ten other people who never doubted what you were, because they were the exact same.

Your ‘wolfy’ attributes were mostly limited to the night of the full moon. By all accounts, you were normal the rest of the month, and things that weren’t normal often were disguisable. Sometimes, if you roughhoused with Peter or even Clint, your eyes would catch the color of the sunset, glowing in response to their own. But there were no sudden outbursts of sharpened teeth and extended claws- not anymore. You’d fought so hard to contain it.

If you let the curtain slip, even this once, would you be able to get it back up? It was another two weeks until the next full moon, and by then, you were sure they’d grow tired of waiting for you to prove yourself.

With a groan, you walked over to the kitchen. MJ practically threw herself over the back of the couch as you started to rummage through drawers, not finding anything but plastic forks, and a butter knife that certainly wouldn’t do the trick. “Jesus dude, this is not cutlery.”

“I’m not home often,”

You turned the closest knob on the stove and watched as the electric cooktop started to glow an angry red. This was going to fucking suck. Just because you could heal, didn’t mean you enjoyed utilizing the perk. It came in handy when you’d broken two fingers sparring with Natasha, and again when Tony had taken you on a long-winded hike and you’d lost your footing.  Both still held the same amount of pain that was expected.

With a deep breath you splayed your hand on the burner before MJ or America could object. They both made distressed noises in the back of their throat, the sound of your skin against the intense heat sizzled with a popping fierceness.

“What the fuck!” America clawed at your wrist, struggling to pull your hand away. With your strength, she didn’t’ get it to budge “Y/n, stop!”

When you were satisfied enough with the heat eating away at your skin, you released your hold. Your palm was angry, already blistering. Some spots bloomed a darker red, wounds close to the base of your ring finger where the gold band had heated up enough to cause some stinging damage.

“Oh my god, I’m going to vomit.” MJ moved her forearm over her mouth, swallowing heavily. “I’m calling an ambulance. Do we run it under cold water?”

“Relax, just watch.”

“Relax! You want me to relax?”

Her jaw snapped shut, head lilting to the side. America still gripped your wrist, watching as the redness quickly faded away to the smoothness of your palm. The blisters seemed to vanish, and the bleeding split by the edge of your ring sealed back together. You could still feel your hand throbbing, but flexed your fingers to prove your point.  

“You wanted me to prove it, and I didn’t much feel like ripping your throw pillows to shreds.” You snatched your hand back from America, twisted the ring around in a nervous habit. “Can we take the psyche unit off speed dial, please?”

“No, no, keep it up for me.” MJ leaned her back against the island, trying to steady herself. “That just… your hand was… did you see that?”

America whispered, her stare suddenly fuzzy. “Yeah, I saw it.”

You flicked the stove off and crossed your arms over her chest, letting them take a few moments to relish the quiet. You were feeling a bit too self-satisfied considering the circumstances, but enjoyed the fact that you had stunned them into silence.

“So, you left with this Kate chick because she turned you into a werewolf and then you’ve what? Been hiding these last six years? It’s hard to vanish in the 21st century. Nearly impossible.” America said, voice quivering.

“I went to a place where there were others like me. They taught me how to live with this, how to control it. They’re my family.”

“Your pack?” MJ asked. “What? I’ve seen Twilight!”

You laughed “Yeah, my pack. Kate included.”

“no confío en ella.” America growled.

You let out a sigh of relief. You’d take it. For now, you’d take it. The tension in the apartment had lowered a few notches, enough for your stomach to clench in hunger. It made an audible growl. You hadn’t been able to eat for the last few days, worry enveloping you.

America pulled her jacket from the back of the sofa. “You two eat. I’ve got a few case files I have to finish. Y/n, it was good to see you. I hope… take care of yourself. Okay?”

“Okay,” The word came out as a breathless whisper. Even if your objections weren’t trapped in the netting of your throat, you wouldn’t’ have had a chance to say them. She was slamming the door behind her, shaking the photos on the wall.

“She’ll come around,” MJ squeezed your shoulder, giving you a wavering smile before she started to divide the food with her plastic fork. “In the meantime, I have so many questions.”

[useless-catalanfacts]

Did you know that Barcelona (Catalonia) has one of the oldest underground/subway system in the world?

The oldest one is London's (UK), which was started in the year 1863. Barcelona's metro started in 1863 too, but at that point this rapid transit railway was not underground. The first completely underground line was inaugurated in 1924, and that first line mentioned before was turned into an underground line in 1929.

Nowadays, Barcelona's metro tunnels run for 125.4 km (more than 411.417 ft) with 165 stations. This number is not including the cable railway and cable car, which are integrated in the metro system.

In the video above, you can see the evolution of Barcelona's metro and the expected changes in the near future.