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gross-gal · 2 years ago

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"First Kiss" a.k.a. Weeb's first Repo self ship fic

Alright, here it is. This is the first self ship fic I've done in a looong time. Don't have much to prelude soooo, hope y'all enjoy this incredibly self indulgent thing I made.

CONTEXT:

*6 months into their friendship, Repo decides he wants to show his appreciation about their relationship for Clementine/Clem (Weeb). So the two go on a friend date and he spoils them. Both are crushing hard on one another but neither are ready to say how they feel.

*This takes place after the date and they’ve returned back to the Scrapyard. Clem wants to say her thanks.

**Clementine is a placeholder name cuz I’m not calling my sona Weeb here lmao. ALSO I use multiple pronouns to address them (she/they/he)!!

“Noooo shut up. Let me be nice now..”

Repo knew he wasn’t going to win against Clementine’s kind and stubborn heart. They always had to make it known their appreciation for the ones they loved, even if it wasn’t called for, she was just sappy like that. Which overtime, Repo had grown to adore.

“It’s really lucky that we got to meet like this. I kinda just asked you for a job on impulse, that wasn’t something I normally do…but I’m really glad I did. I know you don’t see it but you’re a pretty sweet guy deep down, the bestest friend I could ask for haha…so thank you for today, not just cause it was fun but it means a lot that you went out of your way for…uh…meeee…”

She dragged on the last word for a second or so. The awkwardness from being so vulnerable already getting to her.

Repo smiled warmly.

“Heh! Yer such a jokester most of the time, I always forget yer so sentimental Hahaa!”

“Whatever, I can’t exactly compete with your gifts, I wanna show my thanks somehow, you know?”

His comment only fanned her embarrassment. She was kinda regretting saying what she did but chose not to linger on that thought.

Truth is, Repo said that only to distract from his flustered state.

Not wanting to make her feel bad, he swallowed his pride and responded after clearing his throat.

“Ehhh well…anyways I should be the one thanking youse. Yer also the bestest friend I got…one of the only ones.”

He took a second to think on what he wanted to say. Looking off to the city and focusing on the skyscrapers from afar.

‘Damn…how does she do it so freakin’ eloquently??’ He thought to himself.

“I ain’t too good with the words, kid. Not even my gifts can compare with yer bleedin’ heart. But I care about ya and youse been a real nice thing in my life. So thank ya, again.”

When he turned his head back to them they had a dopey grin forming on their face.

“YOU’RE SUUUUCH A GOOOOOD FRIEND!!!” She blurted, mockingly.

“AY!! GET THE HELL OVER ‘ERE!!”

She narrowly avoided the lunge he prepared. Looks like he was aiming to put them into a headlock.

“EVERYONE!! REPO IS MY BEST FRIEND AND HE’S THE NICEST MUTANT MANTIS EVER!!!”

“OHHHH- YOU ASKED FOR THIS ONE, NERD!”

Clem could dodge well enough but they could never hope to match Repo’s swift athleticism.

He tackled them to the ground and their bodies came crashing to the dirt together. Repo quickly sitting on their back before they could worm away, he twisted their arm back, though not nearly enough to seriously hurt them. Wrestling was a thing they were used to and enjoyed.

“Ah right, take it back!”

“REPO IS SO WONDERFUL AND A SOFTIE–OW!! HE LOVES HIS FRIENDS–OW!! AND WOULD PROTECT EVERY KITTY EVER–SHIT!!”

“Heheh, dis the thanks I get fer bein’ so charitable?” Repo chuckled at the predicament they brought on themselves.

Sincere, kind, a joker, fighter (sorta)… those were a few of the traits he saw and admired from them.

“OKAY!! I’m done, my back is hurting…pbbt!” Clementine tried turning their head to face him but just ended up catching their large hair to the face.

And good hair…he liked that too.

An exasperated sigh blew out their mouth once Repo got off them. Though he was fairly lean, he still had some weight thanks to his abdomen, which did a number on their back after the tussle.

“Ya been werkin’ for me fer 6 whole months, how the hell do ya still got no muscle or anythin’?”

“Heh…genetics?” She joked.

“Pfft- yeah right. Lazy ass.”

“I’m an artist~ I don’t have to worry about muscles. I need to conserve all my energy for my drawing, you know that!” He proudly emphasized this by raising his chin.

“Oh yeah, I getcha…better go easy on ya so youse can still finish dat logo thingy I asked ya for!”

“…..”

“Hmmm, how long ago was it I asked ya to do that?” His elbow lightly nudged her shoulder.

“…yeah okay…” Clem begrudgingly muttered.

It was a jab but he didn’t really mind all that much she neglected it. He just liked having a hand in keeping her artistically motivated…though it would be nice if they actually got around to it…

The smoother part of his claw then moved to rest on their head and he tussled their hair. This was his way of saying “you’re okay” Without actually having to. He’d done it a few times before but neither of them ever really got used to it.

It never failed to make Clementine smile.

Repo wasn’t a particularly emotionally vulnerable person, she picked up on that after sometime. And he especially wasn't the physically affectionate type, that was reserved for his cats and on certain occasions like today, only for Clementine.

That alone was enough.

She was content on her assumedly one-sided crush. Though it brought an ache to her heart, knowing that these feelings she had would never be reciprocated, she still was able to make him happy and was allowed to share intimate moments such as these with him. Those brief, warm moments, they’d treasure.

About an hour had passed, they spent that time mindlessly chatting until Mrs. Nubbins hungry mewls put their conversation to a halt.

“Oh it’s that time already?”

“Never a dull moment around ‘ere…PAPA’S COMIN’ MY SWEETY PIE!!”

Had this been months ago, she would’ve made a joke at his sudden cutesy-ness. But Repo is incredibly unabashed about his love for Mrs. Nubbins, so that wore off long ago. And now to her, it was actually rather cute. Which they sorta hated to admit.

“Ah uh…guess dat means youse should be leavin’?” His voice lowered, saddened.

“Nah, I’ll stick around and help you with Mrs. Nubbins at least.”

His antennas perked up…

“After all, I AM her favorite~”

And then laid flat…

“Watch yer mouth, kid.”

She was careful to keep her snickering to herself. This was a satisfying little victory.

Repo went onto share stories about his bond with Mrs. Nubbins till they arrived at her cave of junk.

It was a lot easier feeding her now with Clem here. She still wasn’t used to mutants and certainly not Repo, perhaps had something to do with the new instincts she had. But humans were alright to her and she grew a liking to Clem.

This was another thing Repo was thankful for but he’d never admit that.

After finishing up with Nubbins’ dinner, Repo escorted Weeb out the yard.

He didn’t really say much during the walk. But his mind was racing with a thousand thoughts per minute. Mainly thinking on what more he could’ve done to make today special, was it really enough? Wishing he could’ve said more about his gratitude, was he too mean? Was he open enough?

‘No…don’t think it…’ But it was too late.

Today would’ve been perfect to tell them how you feel.

‘Keep dreamin’ jackass…he just considers ya a friend.’

Why did he have to get caught up in his feelings now of all times? All these emotions made him feel like a stupid, confused, lovey kid.

“You okay?” Her concern pierced through his mind.

His head shot up, checking their surroundings. They’d already reach the gate.

“Yeah! Just thinkin’ ‘bout what I’ll have to eat later.”

Despite having eaten already earlier, they chose not to inquire about his appetite.

“Alright…get some rest soon though, okay? I promise I’ll make it up to you when I can!!”

“Oh ya don’t gotta haha…”

“I wanna though! And I’ll make sure it’s reeeeal special!”

“Whatever ya say, kid.” There was no point in fighting him, not like he would bother any further, any chance they’d give to see him, he’d take it.

They made him feel so cared for. It was too hard to keep himself from smiling, his cheeks were hurting a bit too.

In fact he felt so giddy, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling them into a hug.

‘What...?’ Was all Clementine could think at this sudden contact.

She couldn’t remember the last time, if he’d ever done this.

Their hearts were pounding, as if they wanted to burst from the walls that were their chests and embrace one another even further. This was all too much.

What was going to happen when they pulled away?

It was less than a minute that this actually went on for. Eventually they would have to pull away and it had to be soon so neither seemed suspicious.

Repo was the first.

For a few seconds, Clem’s brain stopped processing and seemed to black out whatever had happened in those instances.

Why had the air gotten so tight? It seemed perfectly fine just a moment ago.

The face Repo was making was nothing they’d seen before. It was…bewilderment? Shock? Fear?? And why had their faces felt warm?

‘And my lips…?’ Though it was only barely, they’d also had been puckered.

Oh shit.

“OKAY SEE YA BYE!!!!!” Clem blurted before their brain could fully put the pieces together. But they knew enough that whatever had happened, it wasn’t typical.

Repo was stunned and face flushed.

None of it really made sense to Clem as they focused on running to the suddenly arriving bus. They showed their pass and collapsed into the seat towards the side exit.

Now it was all coming together.

Oh god…

She kissed him. On instinct. As if he was a loved one. A significant other. She, carelessly, had kissed his cheek.

They gave a loving goodbye kiss to her crush/best friend.

“FUCK!!!!!”

Repo proceeded to spend the evening yelling into his pillow.

He was 25% embarrassed this socially awkward nerd put the moves on him first, and the other 75% elated.

//END//

#doodles #repo mantis tag #weeb makes a fanfic #don't feel like putting this in any fandom tag #but you're free to share and reblog #i even put little pictures in here teehee

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robo-milky · 2 years ago

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A Birthday? Well, Al is certainly going to be trying to make a dish he remembers hearing her enjoying, Yuu always thinking of practical stuff offering some new shoe inserts for comfort.

Aadesh just gives a note, of some 'strings' he's pulled to get her next semester's classes to align just a lil more with a Certain Third Year ;3 "Call it: an invessstment~"

[Cloche’ Birthday Bash]

Albert, the dorm leader of Ramshackle… Cloche wouldn’t say she’s fond of him, but his presence is always welcome. In the mornings, she’d usually pick up on the scent of melted butter and freshly toasted bread, and had grown to expect it. Not that she wanted Albert to cook breakfast, but it felt like something was missing when he didn’t. Cloche made her way to the kitchen below, ears perking up. Instead of the subtle smell of dairy, her nose was met with the sweetness of soy milk? There was a bowl of tofu at her spot on the table, drizzled with syrup and ginger, and sliced into the shape of a flower.

Cloche gave Albert a nod of acknowledgement; which used to be a bow. “Good morning, Master Albert. Thank you for the breakfast as usual,” Cloche said dryly. She took a seat, noticing Albert staring at her and then at the food. Was that a crease on his brow, under those glasses? Looking past Albert, Cloche noticed all the crudely cut white blocks on the counter. He must have worked hard, she thought. After trying a bite, Cloche’ tail and ears drooped, “It’s been a while since I’ve last had sweet tofu. I used to order them for dessert every time I was at a restaurant. Whether they were served hot, cold, cut smoothly or rough— it’s taste remains the same. You didn’t have to cut the tofu in such a way, but I appreciate the thought…”

“Master Albert, your birthday wish and presence is more than enough. …After school, I’ll try my best to make sure the attendees of my party don’t make a mess out of our… home.”

- - -

Eugenio— now shortened to Yuu, was another Ramshackle resident Cloche felt somewhat warmly about, especially having come from Earth as well. It was not uncommon for Cloche and Yuu to walk back to Ramshackle together with Grim, they shared the same classes after all. Whenever they ran out of topics to discuss, the rhythmic clicks of her heels filled in for the comfortable silence. “Master Yuu, Master Grim, you two may go on without me. I need to stop for a bit,” Cloche spoke.

“Seriously, Cloche? Are ya tired from walking to Ramshackle already? We walk like this everyday!” Grim quipped.

“I know, I know…” Cloche responded as she went off the dirt path. She leaned against a tree and slipped off her shoes. She was caught off guard when Yuu approached her— making Grim come along as well.

“You say you have ‘just the thing’ for me?” Cloche tilted her head when Yuu reached into their bag. “If it’s going to be a present, you can save it for the party— huh? It is the present…?”

“Shoe inserts? How lame!” Grim snickered.

Cloche sighed upon hearing Grim’s unnecessary comment and took the shoe inserts, eyes softening, “Thank you, Master Yuu. It’s a considerate gift. I feel bad for having to use your present early. …Hm? The purpose is for it to be used anyways? Well, I suppose so.”

“All better. I think I can make it to Ramshackle now. Since you’re the one who helped me, Master Yuu, you can have the second slice of cake.”

- - -

Aadesh, someone to look out for… When Cloche had been pulled out of first block to go to the counsellor’s office, she tried to ignore Ace’s “oooh”s and “somebody’s in trouble”s. Since she was wearing something a little flashier than her apron, it was only natural everyone else stared at her too. Cloche was normally careful, but the humiliation made her open the door to Aadesh’ office with a little more force than usual— nearly swinging it open. “Mr. Sona, I’m here as you’ve called. Is something the matter? You don’t normally pull me out a class, during a lesson.” she asked coldly, trying to figure out what Aadesh could possibly want. Her furrowed brows would later raise in confusion when she was handed a small slip of paper.

Cloche’ grip tightened on the note, she was going to crush it if she held it any tighter, “An investment, you say? I guess so… I’d be a fool if were to mistake this new schedule for a gift.” As her tail whipped, the bell that adorned it rattled sharply, “If anything… I’d say it’s more of a threat, a display of power, maybe even a flaunt. I don’t need you to show me what you can do. I already know you have this school wrapped around your fingers.” Cloche had to take deep breath to calm herself before she’d say something she would regret.

After folding the note into a small square and put it in her pocket, she bowed, “Thank you, Mr. Sona,” her thanks rang hollow.

“You could have met with me at break, lunch, or after school to avoid prying eyes, instead. …Oh? You wanted to ‘let me spend time with [my] friends on [my] birthday’? Hmph, they’re not ‘friends’…”

#ayyy thanks for bringing them in!!#it was a joy to host them ^^#the ramshackle gang is so nice and er… aadesh is uhhh aadesh… yeah #cloche’ birthday bash 🎊#oc: cloche🎊#ask 🎊#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #others ocs #twst ocs #oc interactions #albert eastwind #eugenio hernandez #aadesh sona

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theiloveyousong · 2 years ago

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olive listens to the second act of falsettos for the first ever time on a plane very tired and slightly loopy: a liveblog (ish)

my not entertaining, very pathetic thoughts on falsettos. not proofread or edited for typos. read at your own risk.

okay before we begin let me preface by saying im finally just taking a bit to just LISTWN to this shit and trinas song emotionally destoryed me okay. okay

why is the first line just homosexuals. i mean yeah but still

oh this goes

weirdly happy though isnt this guy gonna die

BAR MITZVAH

YABADAVA THE EIGHTIES

ooh speed mode march of the falsettos

the lesbians!!

of course shes a shiksa

WHEEEEEEEEE! WOOOOOOO!

this gooooooes

oh its marvin

“two years” are you NORMAL now

good for trina

ezcept on tje jewish holidays

WHAT NO WHIZZER???

bring him back

HOMOSEXUALS

i wanna go to falsettoland except not really cuz ot would probs suck

yeah. grow tje fuck up

MARVIN. PLEASE.

wait how is he twelve and a half i had my bat mitzvah three months after turning 13

elaborate william finn.

jason stoooop butchering the hebrew. stooooop

im gonna give him a pass simply because ive heard worse

aww the tallit belssing. i think

WALKERMAN

“the last loving thinfh we’llprobably ever do together” noooo youre so emotionally intriguing aha

the whole things WHAT now man who i think matbe js whizzer but i cant tel marvin snd whizzer apart very well is that bad

good for fucking jason

this is my mom literally

hes gonna be a jewish adult

i cant tell wahts gping on (too zzzy)

omg a lesbian

“nouvelle bar mitzvah cuisine” cordelia i love you but please do not do this. just have fucjing bagels you cant go weong with bagels

CONGA

so proud pf jason

i am NOT dxcited for when my brother starts bar mitzvah prep

this song is titled miracle of judaism it has to be good

oh hes being a little straightboy

invite none of them just be a frienless loser like i was lamoo

no i had like four people there

you are TWELVE. DUDE.

you’re not swinging a goth gf you are TWELVE YEARS OLD

oooh baseball

ooooh JEWOSH baseball

same maevin

marvin stop calling your sona pussy

oh eitght its the Eighties

jason cannot play baseball

baseball ⚾️ ooh empji ⚽️ 🏀 🏈

WHIZZER

go off trina. love her

of course he love sbaseball

the lesbians are silly

oh my god. middle aged man core. hes so fjcking pathetic

jason *not 2 fiture penny put photo of cat kn box head here. no service on this plane*

even bald he looks good

stop thinking about your gay love and focus on your fucking sun. loser

i would love to watch jason play badebll (loe?

me when i hit the ball

this bitch gets SIX parents at hsi baseball games and my brother gets my mom and me not paying attention because soccer is boring as sbit sorry soccer lovers who also follow penny dimeshee on timblr pkay im rabong RAMBING

me when im in falsettoland

mendel is so bad at his job

this bitch sucks ass.

disgrace to the name of caroline fr caroline abbott would NEVER do such a thing

reagan and pagan as a rhyme ks genius

STOP SLEEPING WORH YOUR BOSS?!??

trina. thag is NOT how you prnounce it

sorry what.

just qhitnyour FFUCKIGN job. you cant do it anyway 😊☺️☺️

god i love ❤️ emojis

wbat a shock marvins back with whizzer

trina be normal please 🙏 i love you

trina calm your shit

yeah why CANT u let goe

as spon as they said that i know everytknhg not gonna be alright

i watched like half of a short clip of this from tje tonies and then went to bed becaus eit was like ten pm and i sleep early because i am a loser if any lf you compare me to bakugo my hero academia i will actually cry anyway the clip was good they were #exercising wby dod i go pn thos tangent

charlotte!!!!!!!!

me when i stick a lightbulb up my ass

okay shes being self important

aww

was that the first eff bomb

what aee they laying

whizzer my man marvin has matured stip raggingi kn him!!!!!!!!!’

god

i cant see anything out this plane window its like 10 pm. past my bedtime

OOH i lvoe me a good musical motif

anyone here watchind minions the rise of gru and know what the FUUCK goes on in it my brothers watcing jt and im so confused

THAGS NOT. WOAAAAAAH

HE DID MATURE!!!!!!!!!!!! “i want it all” “all i want is you” CHARACTER DEVEIPMENT GO OFFFFFF!! i want to write an essay about this man

they gave us quinoa chocolace crunches on the plane

theyre in the coty? damn i would jot think that. they feel like sone sort of pseudo-idyllic suburban lifestyle bitches

REPEATED LYRICS. AHHHHHHHH

Damn this shit is long

this sonf is incorrect i do not hate my parents

thag wasnt funny

jadon. honey. you are so lucky your parendes dotn involve you in bar mitzvah prep. do you want to pick out tablecloth swatches

jaosn i feel like you’re misunderstanding the purpace of the bar mitzvab

what kinda a name ks apple bum

SAUL

better call sa- he WHAT???? HWTA????? HIH????? WH?????? REELING

HE HAS PAITBJNGD OF WHAT NOW???????????????????????

matbe i should have done this while lucid

gonna take a wuick pause sk i can play shitty united app games

okay i got a high score of 0. om back

HE DOESNT yeah i thoight that

what the fuck was that mendel is thag ilatian. we are JEWISH. why did you top it off with dayeinu.

i did bate my paewnts at 12

jason dont you want to be counted in a minyan….

it is not in the torah

god did not say thag

sigh

jason do the fuckingn bar mitzvah.

HELP

even ykkur wife knows you cand do your hob correctly mendel…

one hour left onthe flogh ti can do this

can mtbrother turn his screen birghtness fown

sorry marvinim sore your love os wuite sweet but im gonan catch about four min of sbuteye

“try to stay both kind and young” okah thats powerful

okay marvin. good love ballad.

OH NO.

OH NOOOOOOOOOOO

“something so bad that words have lost their meaning”

whizzer soumds so tired

MARVIN. god i love him

everything is not gonna be alright

oh and now trjnas gonna make me sob

YEAH. 🤧😿

i have things to say about the repetition of everything will be alright and they will be said. eventually

“hahaha… not funny… okay”

gonna bawl my eyes out

“gefiltee fish” “gefilte fish?”

i need to watch this on stage

god he’s just a KID!!!

im not crying you’re crying

the fucking. camaderie.

i am crying on the plane and im trying not to be weird about it

JASON.

heart breaking

i am getting tje implications here bit the thing is i dont like the implications

ive heard this song on character playlists o think

points i SAW THAG LYRIC IN A COMPARISON TO WOE IS ME!!!

i just know jason bar mitzvahs gonna kill me

he brought tje prayer shawl!!

yeah this si. augh. making the best out of a horrible situation <333

would this ever work logistically? no. where is the rabbi? where is the torsh? but emotionally? i am crying my eyes out as i drscend over salt lake city utsh and im not even ahsmwed

MARVIN. GOD. im a marvin fan now not ashamed

they are NOT doing this bar mitzvah right

thats not an actual parshah. or actual trope. i need to stop pointing out inconsisternces

🤧🤧🤧 MARVIIIIIIIN.

ID LIKERO BELIEVE THAT ID DO OT AGAIN AND AGAIN AGAIN:(

waiteajtwait dont they say that thing in this has better come to a stop. OHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

like wine

WERE JUST GONNA SKIP THAT STAGE.

there ar no word sor emojis that can express th e utter fucking heartbreak im going through rn

OH GOD ITS OVER.

PLEASE. PLEASE. PYU CANT DO THIS TO ME.

A REPRISE??? AS A FUCKING FINALE????

whoo boy.

—

hi its airport olive. thanks for getting this far! if you read this all you’re now legally obligated to marry me!

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chaoticsorceressztc · 2 years ago

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A Jokester Gone Mad

(A Sona Guild Story)

Chapter 2: A Horrible, Horrible Idea

----------------------------------------------------------

The lights were out, of course they were. Zabin had torn out their wiring himself. The only light now was the fire seething from his back, hidden within his sweatshirt.

"Ya' know Silence, I only ever heard of the inventor working with tech', never thought I'd be doin' it me'self," Zabin muttered to the wall.

He lit the furnace in the corner of his shop and shoved some spare cans into it.

"You're right Silence, I COULD use my blast seeds," he randomly replied to no one, "But then how do you wager I'd fight off the beast-ies here in the deep dark tunnels o' doom? He hee hee"

Seemingly, as if on queue, the subway car was rustled slightly from something outside.

"See? They agree Silence!" Zabin told no one, "Means this has got to work!"

Zabin hammered away at the cans, they seemed to be easy to melt, and his fire typing prevented him from burning himself. He gleamed a smile of madness as the hammer hit the metal, bam, bam, bam.

"Ya' know Silence, these are only the display cans, they ain't got nothin' in em', nothing at all!" He pulled out a can from his sweatshirt pocket, "These are the reeeeaaal deal tho! Dis' one is... ummm... Heeeeeeyyy. I dun' remember makin' anotha' of these"

The can had an orange label on it "The Blasty Birby" it read.

"Hmmmmmm, that'll probably come in the handies later!" Zabin said with maddened glee, "I do wonder when I found ze' time to... oh. Wait. Thas where I put my secret stash, gotcha! Thanks for reminding me Silence"

Zabin put the can back in his pocket, but noticeably less delicately than he normally would, had his sanity still been intact.

----------------------------------------------------------

The first test of his creations failed; attaching them had singed his nubs to a dull grey. The wires didn't connect to him right, didn't connect to his nervous system. How else would he have powered them? He wasn't an electric type, even if he did know Wild Charge. No electric typing meant no easy connection point, no electrical power well within him.

The next test he put on too early, the hot metal not being able to hurt him, but definitely furthering the discoloration of the fur on his nubs. Not like anyone would see them anyway, his plan would conceal them under the metal after all.

Failure, the singes crept further up his arms.

Failure, the singes at the tip of his nubs turned a stark black.

Failure.

His arms were completely consumed in darkness.

Success.

----------------------------------------------------------

The dungeon mons' outside were getting restless. Zabin knew it, his madness knew it. They nearly tipped it over a few moments ago. But that was of no concern to Zabin, he was ready.

The many Joltik and Galvantula outside all jumped at a loud "DOOONG!" coming from the door of the strange contraption that had come to rest in their abode a few days ago. The door had been dented from the inside, a 3 fingered fist imprinted deep into the protrusion.

When the second hit came, they were now paying more attention and able to hear a shout of "WIIIIILLLD CHARGE HAHAHA!" before the sound repeated and another heavy indent was made in the door. It happened two more times before, on the 5th impact, the door flew right off and into one of the onlooking Galvantula. The lucky shot just happened to knock said Galvantula out, but Zabin wasn't gonna be able to just rely on chance anymore now that he was out of the subway car.

His audience saw him, a Cyndaquil with slightly more unkempt hair style then usual, blackened fur from his arms to his shoulders, and his new machines of destruction: Two cybernetic arms with 3 pronged hands that concealed his nubs within them, they had been connected to his arms through wires that dug into his skin.

"ANY OF YOU IDIOTIC CHUCKLE BUGS WANNA TUSSLE?" Zabin yelled out before breaking into maniacal laughter.

Then he saw just how many "Idiotic chuckle bugs" there actually were. Despite his appearance, none seemed too phased.

"Silence... I think it's time to improvise..." He whispered over his shoulder to the empty void.

Zabin reached into his sweatshirt's pocket, pulling out one of his many cans and throwing it to the ground.

"HA! SMOKE BOMB!" Zabin said... only to realize it was in fact just an "Ekans in a Cans" as the fake Ekans spread across the floor in front of him, "oh. that's not good."

Apparently his madness had also messed with his ability to identify what kind of can he was grabbing.

The spider mons came at him in a rush, one after the other. His cybernetics may have been able to make up for the strength difference between him and these dungeon mons', but due to how deep into the dungeon they were he knew his endurance would run out before all of theirs. He couldn't keep using Wild Charge 24/7 to keep the cybernetics working at full power forever...

One Joltik was bashed into a wall from one of his hits, KO. Another hit to the wall, KO. Another down, another KO. One smashed on the head mid jump into the floor, KO. A Joltik grabbed at his leg, a Galvantula started closing in. A mild shock from the Joltik. Can't be that bad. Another Joltik rammed their mug straight into Zabin's mechanical fist, KO. One Joltik lunged, Zabin caught them and chucked them into the side of his subway car, KO. The Galvantula was still on it's steady pace. More Joltiks were on him, the shocks getting more and more closer together, soon all of them would shock him at once.

His stamina was waning, he couldn't keep up the precision of KO'ing the small Joltiks, and he knew once that Galvantula got close enough he was done for, not to mention the Joltik dog pile forming over him. His maddened mind still felt the pull of fight or flight, and it really craved the flight option in the current circumstances.

Then he looked down. He saw the webs weaved into the track. This wasn't gonna go his way.

"Silence..." Zabin worried, "I'm not getting out of here am I?"

He wasn't. He was doomed the moment he escaped his subway car. The Galvantula began to charge up, and then discharged the electricity into the surrounding webs. The webs connected to the tracks. The tracks Zabin was standing on.

Everything went black.

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#sona guild #writing #my writing #A Jokester Gone Mad #Chapter 2

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moss-spossum · 14 days ago

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personality wise they apear quite "holier than thou" but it is just their way of speaking, and if they get too excited about something they speak in an almost skaven (warhammer age of sigmar) way, where they use incorrect grammar and repeat words. the boney rib like marks are actually slightly protruding and act almost like an exoskeleton even though there is a second ribcage and spine underneath. there are 4 holes in the anklet which can be worn on either leg although its often prefered on the left leg. the markings inbetween the ribs ARE NOT a six pack or any form of muscularture i just thought they looked cool. i did not come up with the idea of a mimic character i saw it on e6 one time and the idea connected with me like a train without brakes smashing through those little train stoppers at the end of tracks. their claws are again made of teeth because the keratin in the fur takes most of that as a resource away, the face much like the tail and ears are without fur. if you ask nicely and they are feeling like it, you can maybe wear salve like a suit its a likely scenario as ive said before holding a humanoid shape is exhuasting and having something else to contort around make it far easier, although do be warned if you stay for too long they might get hungry and just digest you. all the eye pupils apart from the ones on the head are toadlike with that figure 8 shape but the ones on the head to seem at least a little more normal are split into 2 very very thin lines but if they are infactuated by something they can merge into one really big black pupil similar to when a cat sees something they really like. they two teeth always poke out of the head mouth like that just because again Salve thought it looked good. the fur that leads into the tail is the same colour as the exoskeleton. before salve met moss they often times would try and fail to mimic animals they heard and saw only bits of in the woods surrounding them, typically larger creatures like deer but there was always at least one noticable difference or another which made it a not very effective mimicry, the most effective mimcry they tried and the one they stuck with when moss and them first met was a bush due to how easily they picked up mimicing the colour green which is another reason why they tried to mimic moss in a way upon the first time they went humanoid, as time wore on they molded the shape to something they liked more but sometimes they just dont know and turn into an inanimate object. they will also turn into an inanimate object when overwhelmed which can happen in new situations and environments (very autistic of me i know). they are known to have a sweet tooth and just eat in stressful situations where turning inanimate isnt a pheasable outcome. if eating is also out of the question they will just bite the chains around their neck they have broken a few of the chains like this before although it always seems to be able to be an internal thing they can somehow fix them. thats all they wrote for now lore and design wise, feel free to ask about other details i would love to blab (although i dont actually have a set world or setting thats any of my characters live in) also this is not a sona to replace moss, i just wanted a character who i could easier make into a vrc avatar. because yeah.

SILLY GOOFY MIMIC CHARACTER SALVE, lore and design details beneath cut:

AND I USED A FTU BASE FOR THEM MADE BY @ SH_4RK

Friends with one of my friend's characters because they are both silly creechurs that dont have a fixed form. They try to mimic Moss for the most part, but due to what moss is, its too complex for them and so they only mimic the possum parts of moss. the accessories are Bronze and metal, this contrasts lightly with moss' gold accessories. These are things Salve chooses to wear not part of them so if you see them near an oddly placed object it's probably just Salve resting because holding a humanoid form is exhausting. random mouths and eyes show up all over them still so they arent fully set position wise, if i were to try and make an animation to show it off it would be similar to how objects pass over rivers when they do move and sometimes they can just close entirely off and apear somewhere else on the body. one key aspect of moss they wanted to keep was the tail spike on the xenotail but it was too difficult so they just have a massive tooth jutting out the back on the bottom of the tail. the tail itself is far thicker and larger than most possums because otherwise the big spikey bracer wouldnt fit and they want something to really smack things and people around with. their whiskers are slightly opaque so shadows they would cast arent as strong. the bright bright green markings on the neck wrists and ankles are slightly glow in the dark in the same way that those glow in the dark stars and moons that you stuck on your walls as a kid are, so they would need to charge up in light first the only difference is that they appear completly the same when charged as in pure daylight.

#furry #art #possum #MIMIC #lore #i made some lore

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juliafied · 3 years ago

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Sunrise Rituals

Fandom: Horizon Zero Dawn

Pairing: Aloy/Varl

Rating: Teen

Words: 1414

AO3

“Argh!”

The comb, painstakingly carved by Rost from the bone of a boar Aloy had felled when she was twelve, silently hit the grassy ground next to the fallen tree Aloy was sitting on. She was tired and on edge – they had made camp here, west of the now-abandoned Eclipse base that she’d been lucky to escape, last night when the moon was already high in the sky. Though the canyon was now empty, and they’d settled a ways off, the shadow of the dead Horus housed within still brought a shudder to her shoulders. She’d woken before dawn, a cold sweat on her back, Varl breathing quietly on his bedroll an arm’s length away from her, with the first hints of pale pink in the sky giving his dark brown skin a pearly glow. The pink had also shone off the wicked tentacles of the Metal Devil in the distance, and sleep had evaded her.

Apparently, the lack of sleep had made her fingers stiff, since her usual hairstyle, the one she could normally do with her eyes closed, was evading her, too.

Varl was looking at her now, eyes mildly amused as he crouched by the remnants of their fire, pushing the dying embers around with his spear. She still wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to come with her, or why she’d even asked. Even though his cautious ‘yes’ had elicited little more than a serious nod from her, she’d been pleased. Solitude was what she was used to – Rost had felt more like an extension of herself than real company – and yet, Varl, vigilant and capable at her back, felt different, somehow. She found herself wanting to say the observations she usually whispered under her breath a little louder. Even more surprisingly, she found herself wanting his response.

“Can I help?” He dropped the spear, and pushed his heels into the ground to stand and face her, a hint of a smile on his full lips. Aloy blushed, and quickly ducked down to grab the comb.

“No,” she said, more emphatically than she’d intended, and turned away to work on the worst of the snags in the backs. Worse yet, the two braids at the back had come undone in all her tossing and turning – she’d found one of the blue ribbons in the grass next to her bedroll.

She could feel Varl continuing to watch her as she tried, in vain, to twist the strands of hair where they belonged. Finally, when she’d gotten to the bottom of the braid, she reached for the ribbon, which promptly fell out of her hand. With another frustrated sound, she let go of the whole thing and started again.

The log she was sitting on moved, and Aloy almost jumped when Varl’s deep voice appeared right by her ear.

“Here, let me.”

She sighed, not turning around, and dropped her hands. “Okay.”

For someone who spent most of his time brandishing a deadly weapon, his hands were surprisingly gentle. He took the comb and the ribbon from where she’d dropped them, and she heard the pop of a cork behind her. A rich, sweet, familiar smell filled the air as he carefully ran his fingers through the back of her hair.

“This will help with the tangles,” he murmured.

Aloy could feel his breath on her ear, and suddenly grew conscious of how thin the silk undershirt she’d bought in Meridian really was. Her face reddened again, and she suppressed a shiver – it was just Varl, after all. They’d been travelling together for weeks at this point, and he’d seen her undershirt dozens of times. This should be no different.

Whatever he’d put in her hair made the comb go through it much easier, and she was about to turn around and thank him when she felt him cautiously grasp the section of hair she’d been trying to braid earlier. She was glad he couldn’t see her face, inexplicably pink as she was.

“It’s two braids down the back, on either side of the bun,” she said, feeling timid for perhaps the first time in her life, and felt the puff of air into her ear again as Varl snorted.

“I know.”

“And make sure you don’t take out any of the rolls.”

“I know.”

“And—”

“Aloy, I spend all day crouching behind you in tall grass. I know what your hair looks like.” His tone was more fond than irritated, however, and sufficiently mollified, Aloy quieted once more. When was the last time anyone other than her had touched her hair? She had been doing it herself for as long as she could remember, but Rost must have been the one who taught her. Vague memories of giggling and splashing in a frigid stream, a bar of something nutty-smelling being rubbed into her hair surfaced. She blinked. Did Varl really spend that much time looking at the back of her head?

“I’ve never seen you braid your own hair,” she said, a distraction from her unbidden thoughts.

He answered her unspoken question, and she could hear more than see his smile. “I used to. My mother taught me.”

Aloy smiled with him at the thought of the fearsome War-Chief Sona, a little Varl in her lap, braiding his hair.

“I used to do it for Vala when she was younger, too.” He sounded faraway, now, an unusual, almost painful tenderness in his voice. “She’d cry and say I was pulling too hard. I probably was,” he added roughly, but his fingers stayed gentle as they moved to the other side of her head.

“Do you miss her?” She knew it was a stupid thing to ask – would the Carja miss the sun if it were to go out? Did she miss Rost? Could missing him even begin to describe the wound that was just barely beginning to scar over, all new and pink?

“This is the furthest I’ve ever been from the Sacred Land,” Varl said quietly instead of answering her question, as if understanding that she didn’t mean it. “The furthest away from my mother, who’s probably back at Mother’s Watch by now. The furthest away from where Vala rests. With every step we take, I go even further. And you know what?” He finished tying the second ribbon, and something compelled Aloy to turn towards him, their knees touching, almost nose to nose. Their proximity took her breath away for a moment, as did Varl’s expression – chestnut eyes gazing at hers intently, jaw set, mouth determined.

“I am not afraid.”

Aloy held his gaze for a few more breaths, a few spider-spun moments. The sun was rising in earnest, bathing his skin in golden bronze. She breathed deeply – whatever substance he’d put in her hair, she realized, must have been what he used on his own. It smelled of him.

She swallowed. “We should—”

His nose bumped hers as he leaned in, pressing his lips softly against hers, and suddenly she felt as if her stomach was going to drop right down to her toes. Her heart was beating like it did when she galloped, full-tilt, away from an encroaching Rockbreaker, but no fear, all exhilaration. She didn’t know what to do until she did, parting her lips to meet the gentle probe of Varl’s tongue with her own. He swept a strand of hair away from her cheek and behind her ear, fingers nestling in the roots where he had just combed. She wanted to laugh – she wanted to melt – and her hand found purchase in the soft leather of Varl’s tunic as she pulled him closer.

Soon, it became apparent that she should come up for air, and she broke away, gasping a little. Varl grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry, I— was that alright?”

Aloy scratched her head in the place where his fingers had been just moments before. “More than alright. I…” She trailed off, not knowing how to describe how she was feeling, other than wanting him to do it again. However, before she could begin an attempt, there was a roar to the west. Both of their heads snapped towards the sound, muscles tensing. The tell-tale antennae of a Thunderjaw appeared on the cusp of a ridge. Varl reached for his spear.

“We should go,” she whispered, already ducking to shrug into her armour and throw her bedroll into her pack.

The grin still hadn’t left Varl’s lips as he nodded, eyes flashing.

“You lead, I’ll follow.”

#my first time writing this pairing but they're so SOFT #hope I did aloy justice #horizon zero dawn #aloy x varl #aloy/varl

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arandomshine · 3 years ago

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Hey its been i while :) in short school is mentally damaging and draining me but here i am

Wanted to post this on saturday already but didnt want to post with mcc going on you know? (congrats to teal Turkeys btw)

Also fun fact: the line scott says in this story is actually taken from the episode (31.)(Time: 8:03) its that moment specifically because thats when scott was cloesest to where she (my sona) was at that moment

Okay ill shut up now

Leigh's Masterpost

_______________________________

Leigh: talks in the bold font

Scott: talks in the italic font

_______________________________

The King's return

It's been about 3 weeks ever since Leigh found the letter and went into hidding she occasionally heard voices outside but she never investigated them in fear it might be bandits. She counted them there were atleast two different male voices and one female voice. Then one day she randomly peeks her head outside and notices the temperature was back to normal Rivendell temperatures, she looks outside of the building, the ice was still there but Rivendell was pretty cold naturally so she wasn't surprised. "Looks like our King leaving did really help.. but Rivendell needs it's ruler, well i think it'd be best to take a quick walk around everywhere to make sure the voices i heard weren't actually bandits,, So she did, she walked from the enchanting tower across the river all the way to the embassy shelby had built and everywhere else. Luckly nothing was damaged or destroyed. She was walking past her Kings home: "Now lastly the not so secret meeting room, i know im not allowed in there if it's not an emergency but i just want to make sure everything is as it should be in there, it's one of the most important places here afterall,, She made her way towards the meeting room, she was one of the few people that knew where the room was and how to open it in case an urgent message for the King ever arrived. When she was infront of the entrance she looked around to see if she was alone, then flicked the hidden lever and not even a second later the room was open to enter. At first all seemed fine, she walked down the stairs to get to the chairs and her Kings antlers. Looking over where they were kept along with the Xornoth crystal that was supposed to be there, she thought she was gonna pass out: "Nonononono... where is the crystal?!..It was here, where did it go?! Did someone take it..? Okay deep breathes... Lets think about this logically. Who would've taken it?,, She thought and thought then it clicked: "Shelby! Shelby must have it, im sure of it. I mean the demon did go after her the most, she told me eveytime time it did, so who's to say she didn't take it? I need to tell our King, the Owl's are smart enough, one of them should be able to find him, right?,, She rushed out of the meeting room quickly closing the door behind herself and ran down to the owl building aka. her home and called upon an owl: "Errol! Come to me!,, A few seconds later Errol was on her arm. "Errol, you think you can find our King? We need him back,, Errol ruffeld his feathers and flapped his wings as an indication that he could and was ready to fly. "Okay i trust you on this, tell him that shelby took the Xornoth crystal, that should make him come back,, And with that Errol flew of to find King smajor. Leigh wasn't worried about Errol going missing since number 1. The Owls are smart enough to find their way and number 2. every Rivendell owl has a small cyan,gold and white ribbon bound around one of their feet so if it does go missing it can easily be identified if it's found. Leigh goes back inside, since temperatures are back to normal she begins to move the unhatched eggs out of her living quarters. This took her longer the she tought, but after about 4 hours she was done. Just as she put away the last few things she heard a voice in come into proximity from outside just beyond the door: "...not sure if i'll invite people over for the Winter festival that we normally do, but i can atleast decorate. I wonder if i can create snowmen...,, The voice faded out again Leigh knew exactly who that was. "King smajor...and the Winter fest..,, She rushed to the door, and was about to turn the knob when she stops herself. "No i shouldn't..,, she let's go of the door knob. "He just came back.. and has alot to deal with, i should leave him be he told us, his citizens to do so anyway. But he did mention the Winter festival and that he was gonna start decorating for it, maybe i should aswell? I think it's best to wait until he starts decorating too. Oh! im gonna visit mom and dad on Winter fest they probably miss me! Okay thats the plan then. It's good to atleast have some normality in Rivendell again after everything that's happend in the past few weeks,, And with that she went into her living quaters to get some rest since the sun was already setting.

#empires smp #empiresblr #empiresona #empiresona oneshot #scott smajor #if your interested this story has about 810 words #i wanted to add blue color to what scott was saying #but it didnt let me #sadage #so now its just in the italic font hope its still visible enough

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hope-remnant · 4 years ago

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The Practice Run Killing Game

Content Warnings: guns, violence, murder, manipulation, ableism, blood, weapons, bullying mention, and Dangan Ronpa, which is probably it’s own warning. This is literally 85% murder. 6.5K words.

My talentswap AU now has its own fanfic! for a full list of my talentswapped characters click [here]

Hifumi never thought school life could be so great. He grinned to himself in his dorm, pushing off the floor with socked feet to spin his desk chair back and forth. The pale blue light of his computer’s screen reflected on his glasses, which he pushed up with one finger and a smirk before typing out a last message to his friend’s stream chat.

JusticeHammer: I’ll be back in a few hours!! Have fun Hina!! <3

In his headphones the stream audio played, ambient underwater sounds from the game itself and the excited voice of his friend, the Ultimate Gamer.

“Bye Justice! You other mods better be on your best behavior now that the boss man is gone, okay?” Hina grinned up at the webcam from her side of the screen, waving with one tanned hand before returning to her game, talking about the strange atmosphere of an alien world.

The chat scrolled by as well, people from all over the world typing out goodbyes to him. Thousands of strangers, but dozens of friends as well, fellow moderators who helped wrangle the random people into order, who would play video games with Hifumi, who would message him and call him.

It was a far cry from where Hifumi had been in middle school, and he couldn’t help but grin again, shaking out his hands as if to shake out an excitement that clung to his bones, that stayed in his heart when he remembered he had friends.

His phone dinged with a soft chime, and he couldn’t help the quiet huff of amusement as he flipped open his phone and typed quickly.

Sakura: Where are you going Hifumi? Do you need assistance?

Hifumi: school council meeting! a weird late night one, no emergencies, dont worry sakura!

Hifumi: see you tomorrow, love you!!!!! :)

Hifumi stashed the phone in the pocket of his blazer- he was unsure what to wear to this sudden late night meeting, when before they had all been just after classes let out. He decided to play it safe and wear his school uniform.

Standing up from his chair, he made sure to plug in his laptop, the stream still running on it, and turned to leave his room. He had seen the interior of the main course’s dorms, they were triple the size, with their own ensuite and everything.

His own dorm was small, the wall space barely enough to fit his multitude of posters. There was a complimentary cork board as well, full of fanart people had made of his little sona, a kirby with a hammer and glasses, which he printed out and posted up on his wall as big as he could get them.

He pulled once on the lapels of his blazer, making the fabric settle properly on his shoulders and snatched his binder of notes he used in student council meetings. He made sure to lock his dorm on the way out, still smiling softly to himself. He toyed with the small ring of keys in his hand, dorm room key swinging as well as a number of soft cute keychains that Hina or Sakura sent him in their years as online friends.

He entered the cold night air, pocketing his keys and rubbing his hands together. Winter had clung harder than he had ever seen it, or Spring was simply apathetic even in April, biding its time. In the dusky light he could see the timid, barely blooming sakura trees that dotted the expansive main campus of Hope’s Peak Academy as he approached. There was no security on duty, the gates locked at the late hour.

Headmaster Kirigiri had given him a pass once he sent an anxious email talking about how the head of security, Sakakura, had been harassing him whenever he tried to go on campus. Even though reserve course students were barred from entering the main campus, Hifumi had privileges as the liaison between the reserve and main courses, and as a member of the student council.

Hina and Sakura had theorized it was because Sakakura was the Ex-Ultimate Student Council Leader, and was now one of the club’s supporting staff members, even if he had only worked at the school for a few years. The man was resentful of having a reserve course student on the council, a first in the school’s history, even though the reserve course was a relatively recent development.

Hifumi was used to people disliking him for seemingly no reason, it was only a problem that he took to the headmaster when it made him late to council meetings.

He glanced at his phone as he passed through the side gate intended for just security. He would likely be a minute or two late, but it wouldn’t make him stand out any more than usual. In his black and white suit he was a dark stain in the middle of any crowd of bright ultimates, who were able to wear anything pertaining to their talent and flaunt the rules.

Sakura wearing scrubs some days, Hina wearing garish merchandise for a game and smirking as the Ultimate Hall Monitor from class 77B could do nothing about it. They had told Hifumi about some of their classmates testing the rules, Enoshima in a sporty tank top, the Ultimate Team Manager getting away with it even in December. Fukawa, who didn’t even notice the rules apparently, and wore oil stained jumpsuits to class, no one able to deter the Ultimate Engineer and Ultimate Mechanic.

Yet here he was, in an ill-tailored suit. When he had been accepted into the reserve program and sent a uniform, his older sister had insisted he try it on, and cooed over him looking all grown up, as if she weren’t just a year older than him. She utilized some of her cosplay skills to try and modify the suit to fit him- they seemed to be made for exclusively skinny kids, then just sized up without concerns for body shape. Unfortunately Fujiko typically worked with skirts and dresses, which were more forgiving of hands more used to drawing and the bad eyesight all Yamadas seemed to have.

Hifumi had to stop for a moment, the breeze rustling past as he stared up at the few stars that began to twinkle in the night sky, faded and choked by light pollution, blurry even with his glasses. Some were simply blocked by the giant building before him, gleaming glass reflecting the lights of the city’s nightlife, aside from one classroom on the second floor, lit up bright white with silhouettes moving across the room.

He held the binder full of notes to his chest and walked into Hope’s Peak Academy, unaware that someone in the school’s entrance hall was hiding in the shadows, watching with eyes of deep scarlet that reflected light like a cat’s would in the low light.

Hifumi hurried up the stairs and down the hallway to the classroom they held meetings in. He saw Kamii and Kurosaki, two ultimates on the council who were dating, walk into the meeting room, Kamii practically clinging to her boyfriend. It was unsettling to see as he approached, considering Kamii thought PDA was impolite during meetings, and usually sat with someone between her and Kurosaki to avoid it. Maybe she was upset by something, but Hifumi wasn’t about to ask her, considering he was acquaintances at best with the council.

He followed them into the room, the last to arrive. The fluorescent lights were glaring and bright as night settled fully outside of their meeting. Everyone was seated aside from their Ultimate Student Council President, Umesawa, who stood at the podium in front of the blackboard, knuckles white as her blunt nails dug into the wood, her white armband standing out against the bright yellow of her hoodie.

After Hifumi sat down, leaving his notes on the desk, he noticed just how unhappy everyone seemed. Some were fidgeting, others talking but not saying much at all, their tone hurried and frightened, and others sat there and stared at the polished wood of their desk as if the world was ending around them.

“Now that we’re all here- you have some explaining to do Umesawa.” Ikuta, a girl with a famously short temper among the upperclassmen ultimates, had her hands on her desk as she stood slightly, her red hair swaying and catching the eyes of anyone who hadn’t been startled by her shout.

“Yeah, Aiko, your emails were really panicked.” Kashiki smiled softly at her friend, but she seemed to be trembling.

Umesawa tugged on one of the bright yellow ears sitting atop the hood of her sweatshirt, pulling down the hood and raising her head to look up at the council. Her eyes seemed to draw people in, one blue and one green, both full of an earnestness that made her a good Ultimate School Council President. Now, though, they were rimmed with red, and usually perfect wavy bob was a bird’s nest, brown strands out of place in any way they could be.

“I called you all here because it was best to be as discreet as possible.” Umesawa said.

Ichino snorted, not even bothering to hide his disrespect, too busy carding his hand through his already messy red hair. “Discreet. Yeah.”

Just when Hifumi was going to ask them all to explain, because these ultimates always acted as if everyone just knows what’s going on instead of learning things like normal people- the door creaked open and someone Hifumi had never seen before stepped inside.

The first thing Hifumi noticed were the gloves. One a perfect, unstained white, carrying a large duffle bag. The other a black that blended into her sleeve. The rest of her outfit was just as puzzling, a bright red tie and a white button up, but with a black cropped leather jacket over it. A black miniskirt and red knee high boots as well completed the outfit. But even then, it was almost at odds with pale violet eyes and long lavender hair, only a small portion of that hair in a braid that she toyed with in her black gloved hand.

“Good evening class.” She said, her voice even and her eyes narrowed.

Umesawa backed away from the podium, staring at the girl. “Who are y-?”

The girl waved off the question, her black gloved hand slashing through the air, making the council president back away further. “Goodness, and they say you’re one of the brightest in the school?” She takes a step closer, heeled boots heavy on the floor. “Pathetic.” She says, a light scolding, a chiming thing that seemed more like a schoolyard taunt than a threat.

But Hifumi could tell this girl was a threat. Maybe she had a dangerous ultimate talent- he knew for a fact that even if an ultimate skill was illegal they could be admitted and given essentially some form of diplomatic immunity while they attended the school.

“Why the hell are you here lady?!” Ikuta snapped, standing fully with her hands on her hips.

The girl put both her hands in the air, as if surrendering, but she was smiling, amusement sparkling in those eyes that seemed to dig into anything she laid them on, ferreting out as much information as she could. “I just want to play a game with my fellow ultimates.” She said, placating and condescending.

Hifumi, who was tired, confused, and could be watching his friend play video games right now, finally spoke up. “Can any of you ultimates ever explain anything, or is being cryptic part of the main course syllabus?”

The girl turned to him and glared, and Hifumi couldn’t help the small squeak of fear that slipped from his mouth when her face twisted into a sneer. It was a dramatic expression, he had seen it in games and shows, but no one had ever looked at him like that, no matter how many bullies he had faced. Like he was less than nothing, his very existence something to be loathed.

“A. Game. That shouldn’t be so hard for a simple reserve course student to understand, right? After all, you don’t spend your time doing anything worthwhile, if you can’t even manage to get into the main course.” The girl’s voice dripped with malice, and she quickly took over at the podium.

Umesawa backed up even more, now close to the window opposite of the door to the classroom, hands tugging her hood back up so she could pull at the fake rabbit ears in nervousness.

“I will keep it simple.” The girl shot Hifumi another look. “Last man standing wins. Go.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Ikuta stepped out into the aisle between desks, pointing a finger at the girl as she demanded answers. “Just who the fuck do you think you are, demanding shit from us? Are you some reserve course kid? We’ve had enough from Yamada-”

Everyone’s eyes had been on Kotomi Ikuta, they hadn’t noticed the threatening girl at the front moving at all, assuming she had been just as stunned by the rant, until Ikuta was cut off by a gunshot.

Hifumi had heard guns before, in games, in animes, in movies. There were different patterns to them depending on the type, and when he and Hina became really invested in a game he would bother to tell them apart, the distinct rapid pulses, the blasts and thunderous booms from all different kinds of weaponry. He had never heard one in real life, had never been in the same room as a real gun, even though he knew there was a shooting range up on the fifth floor for those whose talents needed such things.

It was louder than he expected, and the noise was what made him freeze. In the middle of the classroom, Ikuta fell to her knees, then slumped forward. Shrill screams and rumbling expletives filled the room.

It took a moment, to properly process all of the information and connect the dots. When he did Hifumi couldn’t stop the sharp gasp, even though all it did was make him notice the sharp sulfuric stench of gunpowder, as well as the metallic tang of fresh blood. Things he had never experienced before.

An ultimate had died right before his eyes, by something as simple as the handgun that rested like it was molded to be in the strange threatening girl’s black gloved hand. The girl’s eyes were alight with something Hifumi couldn’t understand as she huffed through her nose in what might have been amusement.

She dropped the duffle bag in her other hand, the thing spilling open to reveal an assortment of weapons from knives to swords, hammers and screwdrivers, guns of all shapes and sizes. They were real, the flash of silvery metal, the dull gleam of tools with a new use branded onto them right before their eyes.

“If that’s not enough for you, I’ve got more.” The girl smirked, and waved to the still open door. A cart came rolling in, it’s top shelf littered with larger weapons. A chainsaw, a mace, a sledgehammer, all on top of it, all perfectly clean as if even they didn’t know what a dark omen they were, as if they didn’t know their capacity to do harm in the right hands.

At the bottom of the cart there was a large case which the girl pulled onto the floor with ease after sliding her handgun into a previously unseen holster high up on her thigh. She kicked the case with her boot, walking around it and towards the door. “That holds all the motivation you’ll need.”

“Everyone stay calm!” Umesawa ordered, straightening up from where she had been cowering. “No one touch those weapons- someone could get hurt!” Her voice was as sweet as ever, even with the urgency, she took out her phone and flipped it open, only for her face to fall.

Yokō stood up from his place at the back of the room, turning his flip phone around as if to show it off. “No connection.”

Kubo stood up, gesturing broadly to the class. “She can’t stop all of us, just listen to Umesawa!”

But everyone seemed to be getting up, fourteen students all in one room, some paralyzed by fear, others covering their fear with anger. Hifumi stayed seated, staring, unable to process it all at once, afraid.

A student who had been at Ikuta’s side the instant she fell, trying to help her even after a gunshot wound to the forehead, lunged forward and grabbed one of the spilled weapons at random. He ran towards the terrifying girl who had orchestrated Ikuta’s death. The boy, Someya, was holding a shotgun that was almost too big for him to handle. The little plushies on keychains at his belt jingled slightly, at odds with the cold metal in his hands. Before he could aim, someone grabbed at him.

Ichino tried to grapple the weapon away from Someya, but the small boy clung to the instrument of death with a desperation no one in the room had seen before now in a human being. Someya was frantic, eyes glassy with tears, his distinctive blue bowlcut in disarray as he shook his head, saying how she needed to pay for killing Ikuta.

In the chaos Hifumi finally stood, moving to the wall the door was on, his back hitting the wall quickly as he tried to look around. Umesawa still was at the podium, pleading for order. Gōryoku was shielding some of the others who had broken down into tears with his large muscular body, and some other students had approached the front of the classroom.

Someya was facing the door, facing the girl who had her gun in one hand but was toying with her braid as well, as if bored. She hummed an uneven tune, as if bored, as if waiting for a show to start.

“Please!” Someya cried, tears falling as the shotgun was wrenched out of his hands, the gun making a sharp cracking sound as it hit the floor.

Then the katana entered his chest from behind, skewering him. As the weapon was pulled out with a wet sucking sound Hifumi wished he could never have heard, the girl holding the weapon sobbed. “My mother- they have my mother- I’m so s-sorry, I can’t-!”

With a sob that devolved into a scream, Kisaragi kicked away the file of photographs she had taken from the case, the motive set out for them. It showed a middle aged woman bound to a chair, screaming into a gag.

“Karen! Please, listen-!” Umesawa implored, a hand outstretched. “Put down the-!” She let out a small scream when Kirasagi lurched forward, slashing the katana.

The sword embedded itself into the podium. Most of the class either hung back or scattered to grab the motives, and then the weapons.

Hifumi could only focus on one thing at a time, the sounds. The wet thunk of metal sinking into flesh, into the soft organs of the human body, so fragile even if the person had been deemed ultimate. Gunshots, sobbing, deranged laughter, screams and death rattles.

Hifumi staggered under the onslaught of sensory information overloading his mind with no way to filter it, no way to stop it. All he could do was try to get away.

Blood splattered onto his blazer, up his neck and onto his face as another student died. With a short, faltering yell, he pushed someone out of the way of the door and began to run.

The moonlight streaming into the hallways washed them in a pale ghostly glow, as if illuminating perfection, as if a spotlight was needed. Hifumi didn’t know it, but he looked similar to when he spoke to his friends in late night chats, his lights off in his room and illuminated only by the pale glow of a computer screen, tired and giggling.

Pink marred the walls and floors. In the classroom Hifumi abandoned, a boy he had spoken to, someone in a committee with him, was brutally beaten to death with a chair. A girl he knew was stabbed. Another was strangled. The events tumbled together into one big massacre, one big game, one big show, and the girl who pulled the strings to watch this all happen couldn’t help the grin on her usually passive face as she left the scene into her own lair.

Someone stood at her side now, shorter than her, but even more intimidating. A person in a pristine suit and long black hair, almost ridiculous in its length. Their red eyes seemed to gleam as they watched, but their pointed features never twitched from an expressionless mask of disinterest.

“Satisfied, Izuru?” Kirigiri asked once she reached her control room, one of her lackeys nodding to her reverentially and giving her the seat. Another approached her other side, giggling.

“...” Izuru’s eyes slid to the side, towards where the lackey who had been in the chair now cowered, too horrified to watch what he assisted in causing, pathetic. The girl laughing into her hand was small, and with Izuru’s keen sight and ultimate knowledge, Izuru knew that the girl was thirteen at best, too young, yet still an ultimate. She was enthralled by the gore on screen, delighted by it, just as much as she was enthralled by Kirigiri, who put a hand on the young girl’s shoulder, speaking words but never telling her anything.

With a small huff through their nose, Izuru turned and left to see the scene for himself.

Hifumi didn’t know when someone had got him with a blade. They evidently had, from the wound on his arm pouring blood, pink staining his nice uniform, running through his fingers even when he tried his best to stop the bleeding.

He continued to stumble on, mind overloaded with information, with fear, and he couldn’t help but just blank out on all of it. There was too much to process, too much to bear acknowledging. With a ragged huff, he leaned against a wall of lockers, the cool metal a relief from everything, another nothingness to sink into.

The wall of windows allowed in so much moonlight, for a moment Hifumi thought it was day, that any moment so many of the best students in the country would come pouring out of their classrooms. Maybe his friends would be among them, Hina tapping on her phone or the newest handheld console, Sakura making sure they didn’t bump into anyone.

They would see him, and Sakura would hold him. She was so strong, so steady. She could carry Hifumi to the infirmary, could bandage him up and offer him a lollipop with that slight smile she got when she talked to him or Hina. She would fret over him any time she saw him until the bandage was finally gone, she would insist on carrying his bag or his notes for student council-

Hifumi swallowed down a sob, pushing himself onward. Screams echoed down hallways made to carry the voices of the best, the last cries of those who were dead the moment that girl walked into their meeting. It hurt, to keep moving, to keep acting as if just running away would save him, but everything would hurt no matter what choice he made.

All he wanted was to hang out in Hina’s dorm, his best friends at his side as they all rested on Hina’s bright pink bed, Sakura studying late into the night as he and Hina fell asleep against her.

He wanted so much, and he was never going to get it, not now. Hifumi knew he was going to die here, he just knew it. Was this something other people felt, like a blanket of fresh snow, cold and melting deep into his bones as he realized death was coming for him, an unstoppable force? Was this something that had always been there waiting for him, and he only noticed it now when his head swam and pink dripped from his fingers?

In every game, every anime, every manga, the hero managed to get up and keep going. Whether to escape only to save the day later, or to defeat whatever stood in their way. No one expected that of Hifumi. Maybe they would think an ultimate was capable of it, and there were thirteen ultimates he had left behind to tear each other apart.

He heard a high pitched, screaming cackle and the revving of a chainsaw, the cut off screams of a victim, far enough away that he wasn’t in danger.

Hifumi wouldn’t find any heroes here. All he could do was try his best.

The ones who cared for him, his friends, that’s all they had ever asked of him. To try his best, to keep going, to rely on them if he needed to. Hifumi needed them more than ever, Hina’s endless energy and excitement, Sakura’s quiet strength and support. Hina would be in her dorm, headphones on as she kept talking and talking, playing video games for thousands to see. Sakura was studying a new medical journal, sitting on Hina’s bed, out of view of the webcam.

They were so close but so far, and they were all he could think of. Would they send worried texts when he never messaged them goodnight? Would they wait until tomorrow morning, thinking he had been tired from the meeting? Would they use the extra key to his dorm he gave them, and find his room as he left it, as if nothing was amiss? Would he become another muttered rumor, like the supposed death of a girl in the computer lab of the reserve course?

Would anyone aside from Hina and Sakura notice him gone from campus? He was invisible to the other reserve course students. Maybe they would wonder why there was an extra desk in their classroom, and dismiss it just as quickly as a mistake, never remembering him.

Tears welled up in his eyes. It was all too much, the noises, the things he had seen. Hifumi had never seen someone die before. He had never seen someone kill before. He had never seen carnage, or gore, or death. He wanted nothing more than to calm his racing thoughts, but they all piled up and screamed until he reached nothing, slumped against some lockers. His left hand was in his mouth, and he bit down harshly on the joint of his thumb, his right hand clutching where he had been injured.

He screamed silently, throat hurting, tears finally spilling. He was so tired and scared and lost and he just wanted- he didn’t know what he wanted, he didn’t know what to do, it all was piling up, it was washing over him, a tsunami of panic and blood, bright pink and towering over him, until it finally fell and consumed him without even noticing.

Hifumi continued to dig his teeth into his hand, it was something solid, letting him know that he was here. He brought his knees up to his chest, his legs squishing into his stomach. He let go of his wound, his right hand coming up to pull at his short curly hair as he keened. The wet sticky feeling of blood on his hand, in his hair, was so bad but the grounding pull of pain in his scalp was something that kept him from trying to slam his head into the wall or something equally damaging, because he needed anything to stop his mind from screaming, to stop himself from screaming. He began to rock back and forth, crying.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. The moon watched on, impassive in its pale glow. Was time really passing, or had the world ended the moment that girl shot Ikuta? Was the planet still spinning? Would the moon ever set?

“Get up Yamada.”

Chills swept down Hifumi’s spine, he swore someone was talking, but all he could hear were distant gunshots and screams.

“Yamada! Get up!” A polished shoe kicked him in the shin, and Hifumi finally looked up.

Murasame stood before him, leaning on a pitchfork. The dark grey tines were splattered with blood already, dripping down onto the floor. Hifumi stared at the blood, mind numb, lungs and throat pained by the sobs that had wracked his body.

“I can’t kill a guy who’s crying like a baby. Are you a man or not, Yamada? I know you’re just a stupid reserve course, but c’mon. Get up, die with a little bit of dignity.” Murasame rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. He bent down to look at Hifumi like he was nothing more than a bug on the ground, disgusting. His brown hair shifted to cover his face as he leaned, before snorting wryly and standing up straight again, rolling his eyes.

Hifumi choked on another sob, trying to just breathe. He used both of his hands to brace against the lockers behind him, trying to stand. He didn’t know why he bothered, but it was something to do. Maybe Murasame was joking? Maybe he would help Hifumi?

The moment Hifumi was steady on his feet Murasame backed up, swinging his pitchfork up, an arc of pink that glowed in the moonlight following it.

Hifumi ran again. He turned a corner down the hall, still between a wall of lockers and windows, still in a cold empty husk of a school, and he didn’t stop.

He bumped into something- someone, and stumbled back, looking at them. A short person with long black hair and pointed features, deep red eyes that stared at him with nothing behind them. “Sorry!” He shrieked, the habit converging against his fear as he quickly stepped around the person and kept running.

Izuru raised an eyebrow and deftly hid between the lockers as another ultimate passed, this one full of bloodlust, hunting the boy who ran into them. It was different, interesting, but Izuru kept moving. They had more to see than this.

Every breath seared from Hifumi’s lungs, his body ached as he did his best to keep moving. But he didn’t even make it all the way down the hallway. Hacking into his bloodied hands, he ended up falling against one of the massive windows that made up the outside wall of the school. His injured arm burned with pain against the cold glass.

Hifumi whimpered, turning to keep his back to the glass as he heard sprinting footsteps slow and reach him.

“Everyone hated you, Yamada.” Murasame huffed, both hands holding the pitchfork as if it was a staff.

“What?” Hifumi wheezed out, more confused than frightened.

“You waltz in, a useless reserve course, and start telling us what to do. We had a betting pool going on whether you were just that oblivious that you didn’t notice how annoying you were, or if you really were just that annoying.” Murasame sneered.

“Wh-What?!”

Murasame let go of his pitchfork with one of his hands to point at Hifumi accusingly, the tines of the weapon scraping against the floor loudly, making Hifumi flinch away.

“That. Is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re so annoying and don’t even fucking know, do you? Handing out orders, trying to get us to help a bunch of teenagers who convinced their parents to blow their money just to attend Hope’s Peak- it’s a wonder no one offed you before now.” Murasame swung the pitchfork back up, both hands on the weapon as he pointed it at Hifumi.

“No- please-!” Hifumi begged, trying to dive out of the way.

The sound of cracking glass echoed around the hall as Murasame chuckled. “Really?”

Hifumi wanted to back away, wanted to run again, but fear paralyzed him.

Murasame just shook his head, pulling back his pitchfork and causing the window to fully shatter. “Get up Yamada. I’m not killing you while you cower. Unlike you, I’m better than that.”

Hifumi made another noise, a whimpered plea even he couldn’t understand, and stood up. He trembled and breathed in the cold night air that rushed through the broken window.

Murasame wacked Hifumi in the head with the side of the pitchfork, toying with him.

Hifumi stumbled to the side, now fully in front of the empty window frame, shards of glass still clinging to the sides. Part of him wondered if he should say something cool. Last words were supposed to be cool, right? That was for heroes, and he had always wanted to be one. He had always wanted too much.

Murasame bared his teeth and stabbed forward, the tines of his pitchfork sinking into Hifumi’s abdomen. For a moment all Hifumi could feel was the force of it, like a gut punch, something he hadn’t been a stranger to back in his middle school days. But sharp pain quickly followed, spreading, and he staggered back, the heel of his shoe hitting open air. He grabbed at the long handle of the pitchfork reflexively, unable to do anything about it.

Murasame lunged forward, trying to grab the handle of his weapon, but he missed. The revving of a chainsaw grew steadily closer, as well the unhinged laughter of an ultimate pushed to the edge. Hifumi’s killer didn’t bother watching him fall, instead running in search of a new weapon.

Hifumi gasped raggedly as he tipped out of the window, the world swinging away until all he saw was the sky. The black of night was endless, the faded stars twinkled, the moon still shined. They wouldn’t change with one boy’s death. They wouldn’t care.

As he fell, all he regretted was not giving Hina and Sakura a better goodbye. He felt the slight scrape of leaves and then his body slammed into the ground, rendering him unconscious.

He wouldn’t wake for days. When the school’s security would find him during their sweep of the grounds, it would be an hour after they already found the unresponsive, unconscious body of Aiko Umesawa, her yellow rabbit hoodie stained pink. She would be taken to a nearby hospital, and she would be silenced before she had a chance to wake.

Hifumi was found later, a pitchfork still stuck in his stomach, and that was for the best, as it staved off the worst of the bleeding as it stayed in the wound. He had sustained a head injury and a cut to his arm, but it was better than the twelve dead students littering the second floor of Hope’s Peak Academy. A dozen bright, beautiful students all dead, their lives destroyed before they could truly live.

The school board of Hope’s Peak knew another factor to the puzzling killing game. Their pet project, Izuru Kamakura, was missing. The Ultimate Hope, the Ultimate Ultimate, was gone and most of the staff who attended to the project were dead or had been enjoying a day off in the peace of their own home, unknowing that their colleagues were being slaughtered like animals.

It had to have been Izuru Kamakura that unleashed this bloodshed. The project ensured that the Ultimate Hope had every talent and skill ever recorded, the school board knew how easily their little project could kill, could hide bodies. They assumed it was a vengeful sign to the board, thinking themselves worth the carnage. The school board thought too highly of themselves. They underestimated just how easy it was to bring an ultimate to a breaking point.

An entire life that culminated in a title, and ultimate, until that was all they were known for. They had to constantly one-up themselves, to constantly prove to others, and to themself, that they were the best. Years of effort, years of blood, sweat, and tears. Everything relied on their ultimate. Their world revolved around it, until they became the embodiment of their ultimate, until their ultimate became them.

When tasked with murder, with letting go of any inhibition and just committing violence, just causing harm, something any human being was capable of, they took to the task with an almost inhuman speed. Some would need a push, but even then, their calculating mind would whir and they would frame everything to their advantage. They would come out on top, they had to. They were an ultimate after all.

But the school board only saw the brightest of their students, children. The blame was placed on Izuru Kamakura, and they quickly moved to cover up any signs of the incident.

Hifumi Yamada would have been placed in the same hospital as his student council president, and would have been silenced just the same, two birds with one stone, but that didn’t happen. The Ultimate Nurse Sakura Oogami demanded the school fly her best friend to her clan’s clinic. She would take care of any medical need, or else she and her girlfriend, the Ultimate Gamer, would drop out of Hope’s Peak permanently, and Asahina would use her global fame to ensure that the reputation of their former school was dragged through the mud.

The school board didn’t care much if the reserve course student died, but it was best if the kid died out of their responsibility, so they used the school’s helicopter to fly Hifumi, Sakura, and Hina all to the Oogami clan’s isolated compound.

Days passed where Sakura tended to her best friend’s wounds, and he awoke. His shifting had roused Hina, who had been sleeping at his bedside, and she ran to get Sakura.

Hifumi couldn’t help but cry in Sakura’s arms, crying himself to sleep within minutes of waking, but this sleep was far more restful. He knew he was safe. He knew he would be cared for. He knew he’d never have to go through something so bad like that ever again.

Two weeks would pass from this incident, and Hifumi would find himself locked in Hope’s Peak Academy, working with the 78th class to bolt over any window and make sure they could never, ever escape. He would agree to lock himself into the building where the worst thing to ever happen to him occurred. He agreed because Hina and Sakura would be at his side. He agreed because he knew they would be safe, together.

Hifumi’s memories of the School Council Killing Game were unclear. He would wake from nightmares gasping for air, never fully remembering the faces of his fellow students who died, only remembering the indifferent moonlight and the gleam of deranged eyes.

When Hifumi would ask Kyoko Kirigiri if they had ever met before, the Ultimate Lucky Student would smile awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders and saying that he must be thinking of someone else, and he would believe her, unknowing of the deep, undying loathing she carried in her heart towards him. Unknowing that she had sworn to kill him with her own hands one day.

#my talentswap #writing #Hifumi Yamada #Aoi Asahina #Sakura Oogami #Kyoko Kirigiri #danganronpa talentswap

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withered--s0uls · 5 months ago

Note

You dont come off as too emotional at all here, no worries. /gen

I decided to add us taking apart this confession to this already existing thread, I hope that's okay. I feel it's more coherent that way.

Now, I'll start this by saying we went back and forth between whether to cover this as "singlet"sona Souls or as MoonFalls System Souls. Eventually we settled on that being fully transparent about this is probably the best. This is probably the most open we will be on this blog regarding the system for a while.

So therefore; this is written under collaboration of Golden , N, as well as another alter who doesn't wish to be named.

"But its biased if an N fictive covers this!!!" - no it's not. I'm source separated, the only thing I share with my source is my name and headspace appearance. I'm my own person. And regardless on whether or not I'm biased, I have two other alters with me who will give me their thoughts as I write this post. So before Anon comes into our inbox to cry about my presence here, I reccomend you first reading this post.

We will be taking apart this ask piece by piece. So let's get this started:

"Stop shoving this heteronormative shit"

There are plenty of queer parents with children, and I'm not just speaking queer mlw couples, but also mlm & wlw couples. So please enlighten me on how having children is "Heteronormative"?

Also I'd like to add here that Nuzi scenes continuously use Bi-Lighting. Whilst neither character is confirmed Bi, I find it really odd to ignore a lighting tactic typically used to imply & code this. Queer m/f couples exist, don't forget that.

"[...] want to have a few brats in a 'happy, distant future'?"

So first of all, the use of the term "brats" already will make whoever you're presenting your opinion to skeptical. Especially with what's to come in your later words! A "brat" is an insulting term used for "badly behaved" kids. Now, why would you instantly assume all kids are badly behaved? In fact, a lot of kids will act in a way they feel they are expected to behave. So if you repeatedly tell a kid that they're a "brat" or "bad kid" then it might lead to the child thinking that's what they truly are, and fall into a pattern of fulfilling that expected stereotype due to thinking there is no use to try and change your mind.

Aside from that, the term "brat" is also often used in ableist ways towards autistic kids, kids with ADHD or otherwise neurodivergent kids. Neurotypical adults, or even Neurodivergent adults who have ableist beliefs, see ND traits as "misbehavior" and "causing trouble" when reality that is in no way the kids intention and they may genuinely not understand what they did wrong. Looking at your second point, I dare make the assumption your use of this term likely has ableist ties.

Moving on as to not drag this on for too long:

"[...] someone like Uzi, who can't act normal and barely can take care of herself without n [...]"

My apologies to ask this, anon, but are we watching the same show? Uzi is highly independent . Her and N just both have gone through a lot in their lives and are helping each other heal. This is a good thing in friendships and relationships! They understand each other and respect the others boundaries. Are you genuinely upset to see a healthy dynamic on screen?

As for the "can't be normal" & "barely being able to take care of herself" I also wish to add: the concept of "normal people" is inherently ableist. Everyone is different, many people are disabled one way or another. We are Neurodivergent and all our life our surroundings told us to "act normal", "stop being a weirdo" and that we "chose to be bullied". Why you may ask? Undiagnosed ADHD & possibly autism. We genuinely did not understand how we were different from other kids, we didn't understand why we were "wrong". The inability of our surrounding adults to offer help unfortunately caused long term damage, as you probably figured out by the fact we are a system. Similar to Uzi, we experienced bullying for it our entire school life. We also had bad experiences for it at home, but I rather not deep dive too far into it.

Many disabled and mentally ill people struggle to care for ourselves, that doesn't make us any less people though! We still deserve to get help and support to be able to live as functional of a life as possible, and we deserve to have kids if we so wish. Would you rather have a kid in a loving household with disabled parents, or a neglectful or abusive household with able bodied parents? Disabled families may do things a little differently than able bodied ones, but that doesn't make them any less able to care for each other.

"She most likely would be an aggressive mother if they, or something else, annoys her."

Please explain your reason for that. Quick! And without ableism!

Uzi is coded to have BPD. We have BPD. So let me walk you through this.

People with BPD are commonly stigmatized as abusers, manipulators, untrustworthy and more.

I don't want to turn this into an analysis of Uzis mental health, if you're interested in us going over her BPD symptoms, feel free to come to our inbox and we might do that.

Uzi has shown no signs whatsoever of being an abuser. "But she shouts 'Bite Me!' at everyone!!" I hear you try and type right now. So before you yell into the void again, let's go over this, shall we?

Uzi was neglected by her father as a result of his grief. She was bullied at school and didn't have anyone to trust. She's not used to people caring for her (eg. Thad being Nice, N being genuinely caring, Khan suddenly trying to improve etc) -- her being constantly on a defense is a mental thing. She's trying to protect herself from getting hurt.

As she grows closer with N, we see her catchphrase go from a more agitated & irritated tone to a more slightly annoyed but lighthearted tone. Ep1 Uzi vs Ep5 Uzi say it very differently, and for good reason. Ep 5 Uzi has started healing.

Also people just have silly quirks like that, its normal. We tend to tell people "I'll bite you" bc either we care about them and express affection in a way of not wanting to say "love you", but also to express annoyance and frustration with people in a joking manner.

Uzi hasn't been shown to ever scream for absolutely no reason, when she raises her voice she always had a good reason.

"And N being Uzi's personal labdog, who didn't disagree or not once throughout the show, definitely won't help much his hypothetical children during any conflict."

That is an extreme mischaracterization of N, are you sure you are talking about canon N? Because this sounds like fanon N.

N, like Uzi, has a very traumatic background. So it makes sense they gravitate towards each other: they understand each other. N has actively been helping Uzi get better, episode 4 has a "therapy session" type scene that is a prime example of this.

And he has tried to de escalate conflicts Uzi has been in. Just because he doesn't yell at her doesn't mean he isn't interfering.

Little gestures like pulling Uzi away from V when Uzi was agitated in Ep2 are in fact him "helping during conflict".

If they were to have kids he would separate them and calm both parties down, based on the behavior we see in the show, before trying to resolve the conflict calmly together. Because if you haven't picked up on it; N is big on solving issues as a team.

Also we do see him interact with kids more than once. Cyn being his little sister figure and hero the blame & punishment himself to protect her. And him reassuring Beau during Ep 6.

N is far more likely to tell Uzi to let out whatever anger she has with only himself present to protect their hypocritical kid, than to just watch and enable her. He also would be reassuring the kid that emotions are normal and them being upset is fine, but to not let it get them to their head because anger and hate can be dangerous.

Then again, that's all hypothetical .

Conclusion:

Anon uses a lot of ableist terminology, and is acting really agitated and provocative. This is not how you should present your opinions.

It is absolutely okay to personally feel like Uzi wouldn't want to have kids, especially given her background. Many traumatized and abused people are scared to have kids because "what if I hurt them like that? I don't want that!". So you are just out here feeding into those intrusive thoughts of people who share Uzis experiences.

You dont need to make up some huge excuse full of mischaracterized claims and ableist accusations just to say you don't see Uzi having kids. Just say you personally don't like the idea and large it at that. The muting of tags and words exists for a reason, just mute all tags about Uzi fankids and let people have fun instead of completely demonizing bpd just to have an excuse to complain.

I apologize if in the second half we got a little less calm. Someone in co front was a bit more closer to front than earlier tonight when we typed the first half. Originally they wanted to be tge one to go over this themselves and type this, but their way of speech can become a lot more mocking & making fun of people who act like Anon. So instead this was primarily written by Golden & N to keep the language more neutral.

Keep in mind, we are not a medical professional; simply a disabled person with BPD & other mental susorders. For more in depth information on anything discussed here please also look into articles by professionals alongside speaking to the disabled & mental health communities!

Edit, June 15th - 7:47 pm CET:

Fixed multiple typos & some missed words

Everyone says that Uzi would be a good mother, that she won't repeat her parents mistakes, would be loving, patient and caring bla bla bla...

Firstly - stop shoving this heteronormative shit, or universe will floop if female MC wouldn't want to have few brats in a "happy distant future"? Uzi most likely won't want any, she's definitely has different priorities than raising someone.

Second - someone really thinks that someone like Uzi, who can't act normal and barely can take of herself without N, would be a good mother? She most likely would be be an aggressive mother, who screams at her kids if they, or something else, annoys her. And N being Uzi's personal lapdog, who didn't dissagree or not side with her at least once through all the show, definitely won't help much his hypothetical children during any conflict.

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 3 years ago

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Meeting Damien in a Dream

Many people in this fandom refer to Damien as a ‘man of their dreams’. A lucid dream that turns into a very strange encounter with Damien is probably not the reason for that.

In early June, I had a dream that I had documented in detail (1.4k words). I've spent time working on it and fleshing it out into a proper narrative that can be shared. In it, the reader (as in you and not the DA or a Heist!sona) is pulled into Damien’s waking world, where he has been placed into a life that isn’t his. But will your arrival cause upset? Or will you be able to give a bit of hope?

Word Count: 5,319 (yes, you read that right, hence the immediate read-more)

Alternatively, I’ve just uploaded this to AO3 if that’s easier to read.

There had been a lot on your mind when you collapsed into bed. Too many problems bounced around your mind as you tried to settle in bed. You lay there, counting your breaths and listening to the outside world while trying to lure sleep to you. It seemed elusive, until you closed your eyes and your grip on the waking world finally slipped.

Nights like these were ones that were endless. A dreamless sleep, followed by waking at a time that shouldn't exist, and finishing with utter exhaustion when morning eventually arrived was the normal running order. But not this time.

You gained awareness standing on the side of a road. It was still night, which made you panic for an instant. Had your restless mind prompted your body to get up and move? A quick glance to realise you were in your day clothes instead of your pyjamas helped ease that fear. You had successfully fallen asleep! But now you were mentally awake in a pitch-dark dreamscape. You tugged your shirt down as you gathered your bearings.

As your eyes adjusted to the darker surroundings, you learned you were on a quiet, suburban road that didn't match anywhere in your locality. Streetlights dotted the path on both sides of the road. You could see the entrance to a housing estate opposite you, and the entrance to a sporting field to your right. Where there were no streetlights, it was absolute darkness with no way to tell where the sky started. With no knowledge of what this dream location could be hiding, you decided to stick to the path and keep in the light where possible.

The decision to be cautious worked in your favour. A path of lights stretched out as far as the eye could see. Even if the gaps between them were growing wider, they were still spots of safety in the midst of the unknown. The next light revealed the road connected to a roundabout, but it was the furthest distance away. You took a slow breath, tapped the balls of your feet against the ground, and broke into a sprint. Something growled in the darkness. You could feel something cold close to the back of your neck. There was a strong presence of someone approaching, reaching out…

You skidded to a halt under the welcoming amber glow and threw an accusatory glare at whatever was behind you. Nothing was there. For now, you took the moment to catch your breath and decide where to go from here. If you wanted to know why you were here, you would need to cross one of the abandoned roads. Two options lay before you: go down the road on the left, or keep going straight.

“Hello?”

You jumped in fright and spun around. There was still nothing behind you. However, there was a man standing to your right, on the other side of the road. Glancing around, you realised no one else was in view, so you waved in reply. He seemed relieved and hurried over. As he steps into the radius of your streetlight, your eyes widen as a name slips out of your lips:

Damien.

The man froze, one hand lifting to his chest as though it would protect him. You could see him clearly. Though the hair was not combed back to perfection, nor was it long and unkempt like a man lost in the woods, there was no denying that you recognised him.

“How… How do you know me? Who are you?” He was wary, as though bracing himself for the worst. You gave him your name and explained that you knew he was a mayor that had been involved in a tragedy at a poker night. Though brief, it was enough of an answer to get a reaction. Damien’s hand trembled as he tried to decide how to take this. But just as you were about to question whether you made a mistake and said something that hadn’t happened, Damien smiled.

“You… You know.” The hand was lifted to brush through his hair as he let out a shaky laugh. “I thought I was going crazy. But y-you know those memories. I haven’t met anyone who knows what happened since -” You weren’t sure what cut him off, but he quickly reached out and grabbed your wrist. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to lose this opportunity just yet.” A wave of dizziness hit you, and everything went black.

The world around you slowly returned to focus like you had a sudden lightheaded spell. Damien was in front of you with worry on his face.

“I-I’m so sorry, I acted without thinking about what might happen to you… Are you alright?” You nodded, and he sighed in relief. “W-well… Don’t be alarmed, but you appear to be incorporeal right now. I think I’m the only one who can see you.” Ignoring the request to keep calm, you felt your heart rate spike when you raised your hands and discovered you could see the path below you. When you locked eyes with Damien, it was clear how guilty he was and you forced yourself to calm down. He pulled out his phone and placed it to his ear, gesturing for you to follow him.

“My sleep schedule has been strained,” you noticed Damien was using the phone as an excuse to talk out loud and avoid glances from people passing by, “which means that if I get stressed, my ‘sleep’ turns into a waking nightmare. I find myself in a place darker than night, wandering aimlessly through snow, or ruined buildings, all while watching the movements of every shadow. I’ve never met someone there before. I’m sorry again for pulling you back without thinking. I had no idea this would happen, but I needed to know. I needed to hear what you had to say. How much do you know about - about what happened to me?”

You noted it was in the past tense. The events that you had watched already happened. You nodded, took a deep breath, and began giving some points.

Damien was a mayor. He had been invited to a poker night hosted by an old friend of his. The party host was murdered, which set off a chain of events. Ultimately, Damien’s body was stolen during a seance.

All the while, Damien was silent. The phone was still pressed against his ear, though his grip tightened once he realised there was a possibility he might be dead. You trailed off when his pace slowed to a halt, flashing a look to see if he was okay.

“Y-yes, I… I’m alright. It’s a lot to take in, but I did ask for it. But it matches what I recall.” He collected himself enough to flash you a smile you could never have imagined seeing off a screen (which was absolutely perfect, for the record). “Here we are. This is where I’m living. It might be the best place to talk without anyone hearing us. It’s starting to lighten up” Beside the entrance to a store was a locked door painted pale green. He unlocked and opened the door, gesturing for you to go inside. You climbed up the entranceway stairs and, after prompting from Damien, opened the door opposite the stairway.

A spacious living area was spread out before you. It was a contemporary design, consisting of an open floor-plan and a lot of white. There was a small sitting area to your right, with armchairs and couches facing a TV and an electric fireplace. To your left, there was a white couch in front of a coffee table, with a kitchen chair pulled up beside it. The room continued around a corner to reveal a small kitchen tucked away with a dining table at the far wall. You guessed the apartment was spread over two stores with how expansive everything seemed. Even so, you couldn't help but feel it lacked 'life', like it was a home plucked out of a magazine rather than one someone spent time perfecting. It was in opposition to Damien himself and how lively he was in the short amount of time you spent with him.

As you reflected on the unusual contrast, he moved to the large windows showcasing the view of the streets below. You followed him, gasping when you saw a portion of the city sprawled out before you.

“It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?” Damien tilted his head to the side to acknowledge your arrival. "It's not the city I called home. I've gotten lost at least a dozen times since I was allowed to explore on my own. Yet, apparently I've lived in the city for five years."

Five years? You thought that fact an unusual statement to make, and Damien agreed. He turned from the view and knelt down beside a coffee table.

"I'm not from this place. Yet, one day, I woke up in a hospital." He lifted out a notebook and placed it on the table. It was a generic hardback notebook with "Journal" printed on the front in cursive. "Everyone kept telling me that this was where I belonged, this is what I was supposed to do… but I knew it wasn’t right. I couldn’t believe them when I have memories of living somewhere else entirely and none of a life I’ve apparently lived here. I don't have anywhere else to go, so I've begun writing to 'gather' my 'lost' memories." The moment you realised you weren't see-through, you reached out for it, only lifting it when he gave permission. It reminded you of the Detective's cork boards, with pages dotted with Polaroid photos and notes in a meat handwriting. In order to fit in, Damien was putting in a lot of work.

A click caught your attention, and you lifted your gaze from the book in time to see Damien lift the false bottom of the drawer to reveal a second, identical notebook. This one he opened on the table for you both to see.

"One morning, I woke up and I thought I was part of this place. It was only as I saw my reflection I remembered. Words can't explain how frightening that moment was. I thought it best to write my true memories down as well… I don't want to forget any more than I already have." His hand slowly brushed over a page as he gave a forlorn sigh. As much as you wanted to spring forward and offer to fill in the blanks, the two pages were dedicated to the "Dear Friend from University" - the only character without a set identity. "I've tried going to the library to find books on the matter or use their computers, but nothing comes up. I can't help but wonder if there is a deeper mystery to all of this. If what you say is true, then it further confirms my suspicions that something isn’t quite right. Could you pass me the pen attached to that book?" When you did so, he continued talking while writing, "Why only me? I cannot find any trace of what happened to anyone I knew. I checked an online article detailing the terms of mayors in my beloved city… My name wasn't there. Instead, it was as though one mayoral term was a 'blank', for lack of a better word." Your expression was grim as Damien wrote the question 'am I dead?' on the page. Though you decided against it at first, you asked if he knew the name 'Dark'. He shook his head, so you decided to try and describe him: a man around Damien's height, with black hair and grey skin. He wore a suit - either black or white depending on the source - and was surrounded by red and blue 'lights'.

"Actually… that does sound familiar." Damien's eyes widened in realisation. "I remember reading several articles in the paper about incidents around the country with a mysterious figure. The targets were always rescued before anything happened but all of them mentioned something about it… glitching in red and blue." You nod, advising Damien to keep away from that figure. Wherever it went, another man went too, you explained, one that dressed in red that called himself ‘Mark’. You were sure trouble would haunt Damien if he were to get tangled up in that web. Though Damien never spent time chopping wood in an abandoned forest, it was better to warn him about the Actor, just in case he too was hunting Damien. You didn't know the full story now that a character was displaced.

The next half an hour was dedicated to going through the 'past life' notes (that you noted was simply labelled 'brainstorms' on the inside cover). Where you could, you helped Damien fill in some of the blanks, but a lot of it was spent listening. He was elated to be able to talk to someone about his true memories without worrying how others would react to these 'concerning ideas'. When he caught himself rambling and apologised, you refused to accept it and urged him to continue talking. He would only do so on the condition that you had something to drink - something about ‘making sure you didn’t vanish’.

With his back to you, an idea struck as you snatched the 'past life' notebook. There were a series of frustrated scribbles and notes spread across the top of the page, but there was a gap perfect for a doodle. You sprung to work to draw a cat, until -

"You better not be doodling in there."

- Damien's voice overhead made you jump in fright and drop the pen. He laughed as he handed you a glass of water, admitting it was good to know you weren't going to fade again.

“Before anything else happens… Thank you. I’ve bottled all of these memories in my heart for so long that I thought I was starting to go mad and I was creating a fictional story. But meeting you, hearing you confirm everything… It has lifted a heavy weight off my shoulders. Mayhaps I am in a position where I won’t be able to do anything further to resolve ‘why’ I am here, but at the very least I can take comfort in knowing the ‘what’ and ‘how’ are true.” The ‘past life’ notebook was closed and put aside so Damien could open the ‘journal’ again. “And if I know who I am is true, then I can work on perfecting the act of pretending I lived here. It is as though I am cast in a play that I never received the script from. If you are able to stay long enough, you might be able to see the absurdities for yourself.”

This explanation made you start in alarm, and you frantically asked if Damien knew anyone that dressed in a maroon suit and carried a black cane, or a grey suit with a white shirt and red tie.

“No… Neither of those outfits sound familiar,” Damien admitted as he shook his head. “Then again, there are a lot of people I don’t know. If there is a man fitting that description, I may not have met him yet. Nevertheless, I appreciate the warning and will try to avoid him.” There was a short pause as he flipped through the notes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve made a friend of my own. Everyone here already knew me, or I met them through others. It’s been pleasant having the company without the expectations on me to fit in.” Your confusion was noticed, but Damien continued, “As wonderful as this new life is, and as nice as it is to not be working, I cannot shake the loneliness. Everyone knows too much about me, but I know nothing about them. Don’t get me wrong, they seem like pleasant people who have been so patient with me. Having a diagnosis of ‘amnesia’ is a good excuse to not remember things, but it’s been stressful. If I could leave, I would… But where else can I go if I cannot find anyone I once knew? I have no friends, no family here… It’s like I don’t exist at all beyond a small group of people.”

“Damien?”

The door to the stairs opened, and you both stared at the new entrant like deer caught in headlights. A woman in her early thirties entered the room, eyes wide at the unusual scene before her. Her blonde hair was tied in a messy bun that was starting to come loose. She wore off-white scrubs with an ID badge clipped on that helped you realise she was a nurse. Several seconds passed before she blinked and pulled on a smile.

“I didn’t realise we had company. I’ll be back in a moment.” She swiftly disappeared out the door. You looked at Damien in alarm, though all he offered in return at first was a light shrug as he got to his feet and helped you up. He waited until you both were making breakfast before providing context.

“Her name is Marianne, and she - supposedly - is my wife in this place.” He lifted his left hand to show a silver wedding band before resuming his slow stirring of batter. “When I woke up in the hospital, she was by my bedside, worried sick about me. Of course, this turned to sheer panic when she realised I didn’t recognise her. She ran out to find a doctor, and it was only then that I noticed a ring on my hand. It is… Troubling to find yourself in a position like this, much less with someone who clearly adores you. I am very fond of her, but I’m still undecided as to whether whatever sort of love I feel is genuine or simply platonic. I do not miss her when she is gone, for instance, but I enjoy her company when she is here. It’s another confusing layer to this mess I’m in.” His head tilted to the right at the faint sound of a click. “Though I will die on the hill that this little kitchen needs a little more colour to it.” Your eyebrows furrowed at the sudden topic switch, thinking that maybe your strange situation had finally started to turn into a normal dream.

“Damien, we’ve been over this. We had agreed on keeping the cupboards black because it is a contrast to the white of the sofas. Stop trying to persuade everyone otherwise.” Marianne had appeared behind you, a hand on her hip with an amused smile. She had changed into a summery pale blue shirt with dark skinny jeans and white sneakers. Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, though a section each side was clipped back. “I only wish you told me we would be having a visitor before I left for work yesterday.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Damien countered, loosely waving his wooden spoon in self-defense. “I wasn’t going to leave my university friend without shelter for the night.”

“University friend? But I was at your reunion with your friends in your course last year.” You felt intimidated under Marianne’s suspicion, but you somehow steeled your nerves and shook your head. Improvising on the spot, you said that you were friends from university, but you met through one of the societies - the book club, you blurted when quizzed about it - and kept loosely in touch that way. You even had to fabricate a story that shared your woes of missing the one bus of the day home after travelling up specially to meet relatives. Only that you happened to meet Damien, you would have been stranded.

“Now, now. Let’s have breakfast so you can tell us how work went, Marianne.”

You had to keep your guard up during breakfast. You couldn’t taste a thing (a dream couldn’t be that perfect), which meant you were fully focused on Marianne’s questions once she finished talking about problems at work. What course you studied, why she never saw you and Damien meet before, what you were doing now. As you gave good answers, you could see her relax, which made your stomach knot in guilt. It must have been a terrifying thought to come home and see your husband talking amicably to a stranger first thing in the morning.

As you stood up, the room seemed to shudder a little. The kitchen table was cleared up, and Damien was being pushed out of the room by Marianne, who insisted that he needed to rest. With him out of the room, you were frightened you would find yourself in the middle of trouble. Instead, Marianne gestured for you to sit on the sofa while she sat on the armchair.

“I’m sorry for my behaviour earlier. I should never have asked such personal questions. I’ve been so worried about Damien, the last thing I’d want is someone taking advantage of his amnesia to hurt him. Instead, I should be thankful he met a friend on one of his late-night walks. I’ve been encouraging him to reach out to friends and family.” Ignoring the fact Damien admitted he didn’t have friends or family of his own here, you were quick to accept the apology, adding that Damien had mentioned something about ‘amnesia’ and a hospital. “Yes… Damien was involved in an accident a few months earlier that impacted his head more than anywhere else. Everyone said it was a miracle that he only had issues with recollection of long-term memories before the day he woke up, but there were so few resources available for us. We’ve had to resort to him writing everything down in the hopes something returns to him. I’m sure he showed it to you too?” You nodded and asked about the accident. Strangely, she didn’t answer, but instead rose to her feet and made her way to the photos on the wall.

“Damien is still the man I married three years ago. I still love him. Yet some days, it breaks my heart to remember he has forgotten me completely. Everything we have done together was brushed away effortlessly and we have to start over again. He never gave up on me when I changed careers to nursing, so I won’t give up on him - even if we have to restart our entire relationship.” You were tempted to repeat your question, only to decide against it. You got back up onto your feet to examine the photos as well. She was able to point out their honeymoon in Paris, a cute selfie of the couple on their first anniversary, and them in the middle of a group dressed in Victorian era clothing.

“Oh, this was the first production Damien and I were involved in - A Picture of Dorian Gray. We actually met through this theatre company.” You hummed in amusement at the sight of Damien dressed in plain, all-black clothes beside a lady in an elegant ball gown, before the words she spoke belatedly slapped you on the face.

They met through a theatre company.

You opened your mouth to ask the name of the theatre company when a loud series of knocks caught you both off-guard.

“Oh no, I completely forgot -” She cut herself off as she hurried to the door. You peered out behind her in time to see Damien trudging down the stairs.

“Is there another rehearsal happening here, Marianne?” he groaned.

“Yes… I’m so sorry. It slipped my mind!”

Damien opened the door, and you had to rub your eyes with your fists to make sure you weren’t seeing things. People dressed in what looked like dance costumes inspired by exotic birds began filing up the stairs to the living room. You scrambled out of the way, noticing Damien’s two notebooks were still on the table. Leaving them there could cause a lot of trouble for Damien, so you took it upon yourself to tidy them up. You hesitated as an idea crossed your mind. Grabbing Damien’s ‘past life’ notebook, you opened to the next blank page and wrote a quick message. In it, you made sure to mention you were proud of him for never doubting himself in these confusing times and that he was doing great. You signed your name, accompanied it with a doodled self-portrait and several affirming messages. The pen was returned to its proper place and you placed the notebooks in the same way Damien had them hidden in the drawer, just as he approached with relief on his face.

“Thank you. I don’t want anyone seeing those.” He knelt beside you and locked the drawer. The key was put into his shirt pocket. “These -” he gestured to the brightly coloured fiasco on the other side of the room, “- are my daytimes. There is always something happening, and it’s far too busy for my liking. On one hand, I'm encouraged to rest during the day, but I'm not able to when there's always something happening that I'm forced to help out with.”

He led you toward the kitchen while the costumed visitors began rearranging the room to make space. Some of them were eager to see a new face and hurried over to chat. All you could see was the blurring of vivid colours until suddenly, they were waving goodbye and hurried off, leaving you standing beside Damien on the street as the sun was beginning to set. Your eyes darted around as you tried to gather your bearings. Marianne and another man were several paces ahead of you, absorbed in conversation.

“Are you alright?” Damien placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it gently. “You vanished. I thought you had woken up. We’re currently going to bring you to the bus that you told Marianne you missed. Interestingly, she had insisted this was what we were doing, despite the fact you weren’t there at all. No one had noticed you were absent except for me.” The mention of getting a bus was on your mind and you asked how you could get a bus that didn’t actually exist, and no one knew where you came from. Damien hummed in agreement, throwing a glance ahead to make sure neither of you would be heard by Marianne and her friend. “My thoughts exactly. It only proves that something isn’t quite right here. We need to wake you up, in case something like that happens again. I don’t want you trapped here because of my impulsive actions, especially if you think danger might be afoot.” You wondered how you could be woken up. Damien couldn't think of a practical solution.

You felt a hand drape over your shoulder and yank you back a step.

“And here I thought you were going to run onto the bus without saying hello first!” Looking up in fright, you found yourself staring at a man. No matter how hard you tried, his face was a blur. All you knew for sure was that he was average height and wore a dark red zip-up hoodie over a white t-shirt and black jeans. “I didn’t even know you were in town. Why didn’t you call me sooner? It would’ve been a much nicer surprise than arriving at Damien and Marianne’s place and seeing you there!”

“You two know each other?” Damien asked. You shook your head just as you lost your balance and tumbled into the man when he gave you a tight sideways hug.

“Oh, we go waaaay back. My grandparents lived next-door to their family home. I’d spend most school holidays in the area. The amount of adventures we got up to back in the day! I know Marianne remembers my tales about how I got some of my childhood scars, but this rascal here was my partner in crime on those splendid summer schemes! Oh! I was just thinking about sending you an email the other day -” You were guided down the street where a bus was parked while the man prattled on. There was a small queue as they waited to board.

“That really is such a small world! Who would have thought Damien’s university friend was your childhood friend?” Marianne gasped. Damien, however, looked unconvinced, but stayed silent. “Wait wait, was this the house that had Flopsy?”

“The one and the same!” the man laughed. “I’m sure Damien knows all about Flopsy, the orange tabby cat with the longest ears I’d ever seen. Why, that darned cat was fond of climbing onto my shoulder to try and eat my hair every time I sat on the couch!”

You knew your family home and the occupants of it. Yet, all of a sudden, you had a clear memory of a boy with a long-eared cat trying to perch on his shoulder. You also knew what your neighbours looked like, but something was trying to override that with visions of an elderly couple in a cute cottage with a picket fence. You needed to get the bus home so you could visit family, and make sure everything was okay, right? You had a job to get back to in another town, that sounded right.

“- And you know, you really must come visit me next time you’re in town. We have so much to catch up on. Send me an email when you get back. We’ll arrange -”

You felt a warm hand taking yours before you were yanked back toward Damien. “They’re going to miss the bus again,” he blurted as he put a hand on your shoulder and guided you to the bus, "so get going and get home safe!” He pushed you and you staggered onto the steps of the bus.

In an instant, the fog that had settled in your mind dispersed as the fake memories vanished. You turned back to Damien, Marianne and the man in red. But as the door closed, you could finally see his face to realise it was Mark.

The door slammed shut, and you woke up with a start.

You untangled yourself from your sheets as you frantically made sure this was your room. Slow breaths helped ground you, and you focused on your hands as proof that this moment was a waking one. That was when you realised one hand was clenched tight. You opened it, and a piece of paper tumbled out. It had been neatly folded before it had been bunched into your hand, and you treated it with care as you spread it out and straightened it out on your lap.

The writing wasn’t yours, but you recognised it.

“Thank you for the unexpected meeting. You’ve given me the confidence to hold firm and figure out the mess I’m in. I hope our paths cross again. Keep safe until that day comes. Damien.”

#writersofmark #mayor damien #who killed markiplier #self-insert #Blue Soul (Damien)#(this fic was sponsored by the fact there's no internet in the place I'm staying in on my vacation #and so I'm using my phone as a hotspot and THAT died during the upload)#(I do apologise for the length but hey; I got it done :D )#(I'm just glad I got it done tbh)#(I think this is the longest thing I've written in second person; now I think about it...)

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