#fic: mr. fix-it

[bowenoke]

you'd think a timeloop of mouthwashing would go so hard but unfortunately i think to remain true to the source material. the crew member stuck in the time loop WOULD have to be jimmy

[nekomanager]

𝙈𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙄𝘿𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 • 𝙠𝙪𝙧𝙤𝙤 𝙭 𝙛!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Caught up in the pleasure of your risqué dreams while resisting the temptation of your sexy and mysterious new client, your life was turned upside down as you struggle between what's real and not.

Determined to devour you in dreams and to hunt you in reality, incubus Kuroo Tetsurou craved not only your body and soul but also your heart.

Through night and day, would you be brave enough to take a bite of your sweet nightmare?

18+ :: This series contains themes, scenes and subjects not suitable for minors.

#𝙏𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙆𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

001. DANGER

002. DESIRE

003. DEVOUR

004. DELUSIONS

005. DREAM (october 25)

TAG LIST: Get tagged on the latest release. Leave a 😈emoji on the reply section or on my ASK.

#𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀

finally, a sweet and spicy series! like p0rn with an actual plot! not the first one on my list but I wrote this first. this was supposed to be a one-shot fic for halloween but there's a lot of scene description that I wanna write and include, and I felt pressured by a super long post. I hope y'all will enjoy this. there'll be smut in every chapter just a heads up!the entire vibe and aesthetic is inspired by @moonartemisia's song suggestion ♡

[sh00t4th3m00n]

*Tearfully opens Microsoft Word*

[moog-rt]

ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ [ch.4]

[Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader]

Beginning: Prologue

Previous: Chapter Three

➨ Chapter Four

Next: Coming Soon...

Premise:

The multiverse theory is the idea that there is not only one universe but, instead, an infinite number of universes, parallel to one another.

You and Tenko were heroes in your universe. The war came and went, and that left only you. When you are thrown into a universe parallel to yours, you find out the hard way just how similar and different it is from your own.

A/N: My roommates and I totally got knocked tf out with the bad luck stick. This chapter already went through the first rounds of edits, and I was going to do a final round... but that was just not gonna happen today. So please excuse any typos or whatnot <3

♡

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER FOUR

Toga made an unpleasant face when you dropped your large wad of rain-soaked clothing into her open arms. She was the lucky duck that was chosen to escort you on your trip back to the hotel. It turns out she was typically the one who volunteered to run errands and shop for the boys thanks to her quirk being perfect for going out undetected.

For your brief outing, she took on the form of the woman you’d seen outside the convenience store with Shigaraki the night prior. Her pretty face was contorted in distaste as it was clear she wanted nothing more than to drop the soggy pile on the marble tiled floor. Unfortunately for her, you had to check out of the hotel first, and you needed both hands free in order to do that.

You thanked the receptionist with a friendly smile and dipped your head politely before turning to leave. Toga was quick to shove your hero suit into your belly, forcing you to take it back from her. She had enough strength behind it to make you stumble back a step or two.

“Agh! That was so not cool,” she complained as she rubbed her wet forearms off on her sweater.

You rolled your eyes. “It wasn’t even a full minute. You’re fine.”

“You could have at least warned me! That felt so gross.”

You snickered at her, receiving a childish pout in return. But then, your smile dropped, and Toga’s body stiffened as the two of you spotted a pair of police officers passing through the entrance of the hotel.

You pushed against Toga, directing her to the outskirts of the foyer, which was decorated with a generous number of potted plants that would give you cover. It was hard to feel completely hidden when your arms were full of not only your dripping clothing but also several bags from the light shopping you had done before coming here. Making a silent escape would be a feat.

Maybe you were overreacting. The officers would never be able to recognize Toga with her current disguise, and you were much older than your villainous counterpart. Surely, you looked different enough to slip by without catching anybody’s eye…

But that was probably a reach.

“They don’t know what you look like,” Toga whispered to you, tugging on your sleeve to get you walking towards the exit. She always had a knack for knowing exactly what was going through your head. It was somewhat comforting that this version of her was the same way. Then again, it could very well be that you were just easy to read.

You gave her a questioning look. You remembered seeing pictures of yourself in villain garb during your little research project this morning. They had to at least have an idea of what you looked like. Then again, you recalled that in each of them you had been wearing a mask.

You glanced back over at the cops who were walking up to the receptionist, and you allowed Toga to pull you away. You were almost out the door when you overheard a piece of their conversation.

“—card statements alerted us that she booked the night here. She’s been missing for over a week now.”

“Oh…What did you say her name was again?”

You knew you should just keep walking—you were almost out of view—but the sound of your name caused you to look back out of habit. Just then, the receptionist’s wide eyes locked onto yours. She looked confused, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for her words.

“Go,” you hissed, pushing Toga out the door and causing her to trip over her own feet. Your firm hold on her shirt kept her from falling as you hauled her out of the building and down the sidewalk. She whined and tried to wiggle out of your hold.

The hotel was supposed to be your last stop. You decided then that you would have to tack on a few extra to be sure you wouldn’t be tailed. The last thing you wanted was to lead the police straight to your villainous friends’ hideout. The two of you filed into the nearby station, and just as you reached the platform, one of the trains pulled up. You wasted no time in hopping on.

You never imagined you’d be the one running from authorities.

And now that you were, you hated it.

The way your head spun and your heart raced. How your hands were shaking so badly you were struggling to hold onto your bags. The anxiety that rushed through your veins, overwhelming and taking over your mind with dread over what was to come.

You knew you weren’t a villain, and realistically, you shouldn’t actually be in any trouble. They were looking for you because, in this world, you had a missing person’s case. If they caught you, the worst-case scenario would be an interrogation into why you disappeared. You wouldn’t be arrested for any real crime.

Still, you couldn’t help but panic. Maybe it was because you were with someone who was wanted as a villain. Even then, she was unrecognizable in her disguise. Most likely, you were so worried because never before had you been the one the authorities were after. You never imagined you’d find yourself in this type of situation—and you certainly didn’t know how to get yourself out of it.

In the end, you weren’t really the person they were looking for—rather, you were just a doppelganger of sorts—and you had no explanation for them if they did bring you in for questioning. You knew close to nothing about your past in this world. There was no way her life had been identical to yours considering the vastly different outcomes.

She had money, but how did she get it? A proper job or crime?

Who were her closest friends?

Where did she live?

Your best bet if you were ever caught was to fake amnesia, you reckoned.

Your heart rate only slowed down after seven or so stops. Toga was patient with you, but you could tell she was getting antsy and eager to get off the train. It was maybe the tenth stop when you finally stood up to leave.

The train let you off at a street full of shops and bustling people, very similar to the one you’d gone to earlier in the day. The air was full of chatter loud enough to be heard over a cacophony of music resulting from various playlists intermingling. Had you been in a mall, the music may have been a bit more in sync, but this was what happened when multiple stores wanted to create an ambiance for their customers.

Getting to the end of each block proved to be quite the chore as Toga’s attention was caught by every other window display. She whined about how she never got to buy nice things for herself anymore because she had no money. Needless to say, your soft heart would give in, and you’d walk away with her beaming and admiring her new apparel.

Your attention was caught at one point when you passed a shop selling a variety of used gaming consoles. Some of the posters taped to the front entrance were advertisements for games Tenko and Iguchi had introduced to you. Toga didn’t bat an eye, continuing on her way, but you paused to wonder, if you hadn’t died in this world, would you make similar memories with Shigaraki and Spinner?

You missed the days when the three of you would gather at one of your homes. Beanbag chairs and a plethora of pillows would be gathered in front of a TV, surrounded by a mountain of snacks to last you days. Tenko never failed to provide enough energy drinks to kill a horse. He wanted to ensure that you—in a food coma bliss—wouldn’t pass out before it even hit midnight.

The sun would be peeking over the horizon, and your bloodstream would still be saturated with caffeine, resulting in you badgering them mercilessly to prevent them from nodding off. You’d be buzzing in your seat as the three of you played on, framed by two zombies who wanted nothing more than to knock you unconscious. Once he had enough, Tenko would pull the plug and drag your whining ass to the makeshift beds Iguchi had set up earlier in the night. You’d only settle down after several minutes of Tenko’s arm latching you to the floor.

You’d like to think that your counterpart shared experiences akin to your own. Although, you wouldn’t be terribly surprised if being wanted criminals took precedence over finding the time and money to play games through the night.

You turned away from the shop to follow Toga back to the hideout.

Twice was quick to jump on you both as soon as you walked through the door. He wanted nothing more than to dig through the bags of new goodies you brought with you. Compress wasn’t so invasive, but he still hovered to catch a glimpse at whatever was pulled out. When Twice reached the plastic bag you used to carry your soaked garments, he made an alarmed noise and shoved it off on Compress who was also fairly displeased.

“What on Earth is this?” he said, aghast.

“It’s my hero suit… It was raining in my universe before I was sent here, so it got totally soaked through,” you explained, taking the clothing back from him.

“Oh, I was wondering why you looked so miserable last night!” Toga chimed. You pursed your lips.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go get changed into something a bit more palatable,” you said, digging through a large paper bag full of new clothes.

“You weren’t kidding about that hero crap?” you heard Shigaraki grumble.

You glanced over at him as he lounged across one of the battered sofas, gnawing on a candy bar. You couldn’t necessarily blame his distaste for heroes being that he was on the receiving end of their dutiful efforts. It was more understandable given you knew just who they really were—without this universe’s societal views blurring your beliefs into following them instead.

“Of course not,” you said as you pulled out a cozy pair of pants along with a soft sweatshirt.

“So, your morals align with theirs then,” he said, and you didn’t miss the mildly sinister undertone in his voice. You looked back over to see his eyes boring into you. He was waiting for your response, his body visibly tense. It was clear that the wrong answer would trigger an exchange with an unappealing outcome, and that seemed to be what he anticipated, though his deep frown suggested he preferred that not be the case.

“No…” you said softly, watching him carefully. You felt like Shigaraki wouldn’t think twice about going after you while your back was turned. You knew Tenko would never do that, but you also knew he was passionate about his world views, intense and driven to defend them. With him already being on the opposing side of the law, you weren’t sure where Shigaraki drew the line when it came to fighting for what he believed in. You’d like to think he was as sensible as you remembered.

Thankfully, you wouldn’t need to find out today. “No, the heroes here were my enemies where I come from.”

He scrutinized you, gauging whether to believe you or not, but after a moment, his narrowed eyes and tensed muscles relaxed. “Mm,” he grunted in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to his food, pretending to investigate whatever was written on the wrapper.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked back down at the outfit you picked out. You hadn’t noticed your heart rate was elevated until that moment, feeling it slow down.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit curious as to what we’re like as heroes,” Compress pondered, a hand tucked under his chin.

“Me, too!” Toga said and attached herself to your back, putting most of her weight onto you. “Are we, like, so awesome?”

You glanced over your shoulder at her and chuckled. “Oh, definitely, but I’m sure you’re just as awesome here.”

She giggled before pestering you to share more.

So, you did.

“Our agency’s focus was mostly on rescue. We were usually the first to respond to natural disasters or the destructive aftermath of villain activity. Sometimes we’d be given assignments to gather intel to help out other agencies,” you explained.

“I’ve got a hard time believing Dabi’s good at rescue. He should just scorch them!” Twice butted in.

“I said mostly,” you laughed. “Dabi… kind of had his own role.” Speaking of, both he and Spinner were missing from the common area. “Is he around right now?”

“No,” Shigaraki clipped with a mouthful of food, “He’s out recruiting for us.”

“What about Spinner?”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes shot over to look at you, causing a slight shiver down your spine. You couldn’t pinpoint why, but in this universe, his energy had a menacing edge to it.

“He’s sleeping.” Shigaraki swallowed his last bite and dropped the wrapper beside him. “Why were you using past tense?”

“Was I?” It hadn’t even crossed your mind. Apparently, Compress noticed it, as well, nodding along as if he would have asked about it if no one else had. Toga and Twice seemed confused, looking between you and Shigaraki.

You drew back slightly. Telling all of them about the tragedy that had struck your group felt wrong… You understood that things were different here, but you also didn’t want to put meaningless fear into their heads. They wouldn’t be playing the same roles as they did in your past, so it wouldn’t make any sense for them to face the same fate.

“I guess…I guess it’s because I’m technically from the future?” You shrugged with a shamefully false smile. Lying about this didn’t feel all that great either. What if—because of weird universal parallel laws or whatever—they will meet the same ends as they did in your world? If telling them could change that, then that’s what you would want to do.

You would do anything to change what had happened to your friends.

Spinner’s words from earlier in the day rang through your head. There was still a chance that manipulating their timeline could create a paradox, the aftermath of which could be devastating—according to the limited SciFi media you’ve consumed on that subject matter.

You wanted to rip your hair out. You hated being in this position, and you were eager to get out of it. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long for you to hunt down Dai Uchuu and convince him to send you home.

There was a sharp tug at your heart.

It occurred to you that home wouldn’t have all the people you cared so much about. That should have been obvious, but it was easier to forget than you’d think. Still, that’s where your life was, and you had to live with the outcome of your own battles.

You pushed past that uncomfortable feeling with a little help from Toga and Twice badgering you for more details on their lives as heroes.

You continued to tell them about Toga’s success and promotion, and how Twice was invaluable for his productivity and utility on the field, amplifying everyone else’s capabilities tenfold. Compress and Tenko were excellent at clearing debris, freeing anyone trapped or injured. There were a few people you brought up who the others were unfamiliar with, such as Minji, Sakiko, and other old classmates of yours.

You wondered if they had yet to meet.

“That sounds like so much fun,” Toga said. She was plopped down in front of you, hugging her knees to her chest as she listened to you share stories about where you came from. She stared at the ground with a blank expression. “I wonder how we ended up so different.”

“Me too,” you muttered

“I’m glad we’re not heroes,” Shigaraki spouted, kicking his legs off the couch so he could sit up. His eyes settled on you.

“What?” you asked, a bit jarred by his comment. “Why? I can’t imagine living in hiding is all that fun.”

“Because we don’t have to conform to the shallow ideals of society. Heroes like to act like they keep the peace when, in reality, they turn a blind eye to those they deem beneath them. I’m not interested in playing pretend.”

You blinked.

Some heroes could be like that sometimes, but they were the vast minority. Most of the people you knew were genuine and loved being given the opportunity to help others. You were sure Tenko felt the same as you, but Shigaraki’s opinions were the stark opposite.

You assumed that could be attributed to the fact the heroes here were just as corrupt as the villains you knew them to be. Shigaraki was their villain, and they were his enemies. If you were in his shoes, you probably wouldn’t want to join the opposing team either.

The energy in the room had changed, and you all silently agreed to drop the topic. Toga stepped into the spotlight to start showing off everything you’d bought her, which led to Twice begging you to buy stuff for him, as well. Compress tried to be subtle about it, but it was clear he wanted in on the gift-giving by the way he began listing items he lost or wished he could buy.

At some point, Dabi had returned, and Spinner had risen. Dabi made a b-line for the scarce-looking bedroom, but Spinner was eager to join in the conversation. He was a little less self-centered about the things he thought you should buy, more so concerned with what the group needed as a whole.

Shigaraki was silent from his spot on the couch, seemingly uninterested in the conversation, but his eyes were locked onto you all the while. There were a few moments where you’d look over but quickly look away when you saw he was still staring. It felt like he was in deliberation with himself regarding your presence, like he had yet to decide whether he’d let you stay or not.

You weren’t kept in suspense for too long.

Spinner was in the middle of arguing with Twice about needs versus wants when Shigaraki butted in to announce you’d be staying with Toga overnight. Then he left, you assumed to retreat to his own bedroom. Compress and Twice turned in not long after, but Spinner hung around until Toga dragged you away to give you a tour of her room.

Hers was the one that looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Her clothing was overflowing out of her wardrobe and across the majority of the carpeted floor. You could barely see her bed underneath the mountain of plushies she’d accumulated, and you had to watch your step to be sure you didn't crush any of the scattered makeup.

You were soon thankful her messiness made you more attentive of where you were walking, because you noticed the gleam of a knife peeking out from beneath her clothing. You crouched down and carefully picked it up. “Um… Toga? Why do you have this in your room?”

She gasped as her eyes widened and a gleeful smile stretched across her face. She pranced over to you. “You found it! I’ve been looking everywhere for that!” She plugged it from your hand and held it to her chest, giggling and skipping away to find a new home for it.

Okay…

You elected to ignore her absurd behavior in favor of helping her clear a spot on the ground for you to sleep. She began handing blankets and pillows off for you to arrange however you preferred.

You dodged an oversized teddy bear, covering your head for safekeeping. You lowered one of the fluffy pillows being lent to you to send a playful glare at Toga as she rifled through her stuffed animals. She began pelting you with anything she thought would be a good addition to your makeshift bed.

“This is gonna be so fun!” Toga sang as she tossed another plushie in your direction. You caught it this time. She turned around to start helping you gather everything into a somewhat bed-shaped pile. “Tomura and I just bought a bunch of snacks and stuff, too—Oh, that’s when we found you!”

“Right. You guys left some stuff behind, by the way,” you hummed with a soft smile. You tucked a blanket around your mound of a mattress to help it keep its form. “I tried to give it back, but you guys were long gone, so I returned it to the clerk.”

“Hm, I would have kept it if I were you,” she said, side-eying you. “I know where Jin’s food stash is. I’m sure he wouldn’t care if we took some.”

“He wouldn’t care if you asked? Or wouldn’t care because he wouldn’t notice?” you catch, giving her a suspicious look. She grinned wide, showing off her sharp canines.

“Jin’s a sweety. He’ll understand,” she said, waving her hand as if she was shooing away the conversation topic.

You finished working on your sleeping arrangements, and Toga dug around in her closet for anything she could use to give you a makeover. You were offended at first by the way she chose to phrase it, but you could recall all the times you’d spent with your Toga. The horrors she put your hair and skin through had long since been buried away—way more than six feet under.

Your body was stiff as she began working with your hair.

“If only Magne were here, too. The three of us were planning a girls’ night before—” Toga paused, looking off to the side as she emitted a strained hum. “She said it would be good for team building.”

You looked down at your crossed legs.

Losing Magne was hard. No one could have anticipated such an outcome. The planning that had gone into that assignment felt endlessly meticulous not only for guaranteed success but also to avoid serious casualties. Everyone believed all bases had been covered.

But reality never goes exactly as planned.

There was no plan to account for the unexpected adversaries. No plan when so many of your allies’ lives were at risk. There was no plan to prevent Magne from jumping ahead to act as a buffer. She made her own plan, and she went through with it, and she succeeded. She saved all those lives at the cost of her own.

You weren’t sure how she passed away in this timeline, and you didn’t feel it would be appropriate to ask, but you had no doubt it was for something just as noble. This world may have deemed her a villain, but you knew her as a hero. You knew her ideology and goals, and it was a shame she—like all the others—wasn’t recognized for it.

You wanted to know how the morals of this society got flipped around. How were the real villains able to pull it off?

With copious manipulation tactics, you were sure.

“Were we ever able to hang out?”

“Huh?” You blinked back to attention. To be fair, you both had gone silent for a minute, allowing your mind to wander. “Oh. The three of us?”

“Mm,” she affirmed.

“Yeah…” You began picking at your nails. “Yeah, we got to hang out a decent amount.”

Her hands, which were busy at work with your hair, slowed down. “What kind of stuff did we do?”

You weren’t sure what to say. You wouldn’t have to worry about causing any paradoxes, since your stories were in both of your pasts at this point. Still, it wasn’t good to dwell too much on the past, or on what could have been.

That probably made you a hypocrite, but you weren’t too keen on taking your own advice on such matters.

“Magne would take us shopping sometimes,” you said softly. “Our work studies didn’t pay all that well, and she felt bad, so she’d want to buy us all sorts of things while we were out.”

“Like a big sister,” Toga suggested, her hands returning to her normal pace.

“Or a cool aunt or something.” You smiled and turned slightly to look over your shoulder at her. Her eyes were focused on her hands, but she was smiling, too.

♡ ♡ ♡

taglist: @boogiemansbitch @multisstuff @local-s1mp

[blaithnne]

ok i forgot that goldie isnt canonically 5'1 on a good day so i have to restructure this ask

1) thoughts on short goldie

2) is heron short also

3) (contingent on answers 1 and 2) thoughts on scrooge and beakley both falling for tiny evil women

1) & 2)

I think the toxic yuri polycule height chart is something like this—!

They all wear heels so it’s not exact (also I whipped this up in like 5 minutes lol)

Huifen is tall, she’s a black heron after all, and though they’re not the tallest birds ever they’re still pretty long! But she looks short standing next to Beakley, because everyone does (also I undersized her a little bit in my first human drawing by accident, whoops). Goldie is a short queen LMAO, she’s not minuscule, only slightly shorter than the average person, but she looks tiny next to these two (she might be slightly shorter than I drew her here, idk, I struggled to scale her LOL). Scrooge, for the record, is around the same height as Goldie!

In terms of their builds btw, Beakley is, obviously, very muscular! Though she might seem like a tank, she’s actually very soft — big ol squishy teddy bear! Heron on the other hand is a gangly mf, long, skinny, and sharp. Goldie is sort of in between them, an hourglass build like Huifen, but with more muscle on her (not half as much as Beakley, though).

3)

Heron might not be tiny but Beakley treats her like she is, picks her up like a feral cat when she’s being too much 😌 Scrooge and Goldie only have a very slight height difference, but I think he’s very smug about it lol

Also, my funniest headcanon ever is that Beakley has a thing for bad girls, and she HATES IT. She’s so embarrassed about it and fully intends to take it to her grave. This also leads to her hating the aforementioned bad girls even more, bc she’s so frustrated with herself for liking the in the first place. So Beakley can spend 24 hours a day ranting about how much she hates someone, and be blushing the entire time. All this to say, Beakley might not technically have a leg to stand on when it comes to criticising Scrooge’s relationship, but that doesn’t stop her.

I think they’re both massive hypocrites about it, bc they wanna protect eachother despite the other really not needing the help. They’re also endlessly frustrated with eachother’s toxic Yuri partners. Beakley to a much bigger degree because she definitely has a thing for Goldie, which only makes her hate her even more. Scrooge is more annoyed by Beakley and Heron than anything else bc he just does not understand what the hell is going on there, but he’ll also occasionally be all,

In conclusion, Beakley and Scrooge being a disaster sibling duo is my favourite thing ever. Scrooge is practically immortal, nothing can take him down. Beakley is a walking tank, she could walk off a bullet. They looked at eachother and went “that idiot needs me to protect them from their own love life” and they were kind of right??

[orangecrush]

In my dream fix-it Creamsicle fic:

The initial setup is canon compliant: Freddy is an undercover cop, and they’re preparing for the heist, or it’s already happened.

Neither Freddy nor Larry dies. (Duh.)

Freddy gets shot – either during the heist or in some other way. His injury is serious and incapacitating, and it makes him utterly dependent on Larry. (WHUMP! The more and heavier the better!)

There’s at least reference to (but preferably a description of) a medical procedure that saves Freddy’s life – probably done by some dodgy doctor or a vet, whomever Larry or Joe or whoever fits the storyline can get. (I’m not a medical professional and don’t care about accuracy. But I pretty much go insane when characters magically recover from injuries that definitely require more professional medical attention than their caretakers are able to provide.)

Freddy tells Larry the truth about himself, and though it obviously complicates things between them, Larry doesn’t abandon him.

There’s a very gentle, nonsexual bath/shower scene in which Larry helps Freddy get clean after his injury. (This piece is crucial and nonnegotiable.)

There is sex, but it doesn’t drive the story, and it’s not rough or kinky. (The way Larry touches Freddy in the warehouse? Yeah, that’s the kind of tenderness with which he's touching him out of the warehouse, too.)

They ultimately escape by leaving the country, preferably in a way that incriminates Freddy just as much as it does Larry (e.g., by taking some or all of the diamonds).

There’s an unambiguous happy ending or, at the very least, the sense that they’ll eventually get there.

[mysteroads]

Chapter 419 Prediction/Fixit Fic!

Sooo, My Hero Academia Chapter 419 really ticked me off, though I've cooled down slightly. HOWEVER, I still have... feelings.😑 I can see one to two acceptable way out for Tomura, and I am willing to accept bittersweet. Even so, make sure I get closure, I already started a fanfic! Let's see how close I get to what happen in the manga! 🤓Here's an excerpt! (I hate tumblr formatting, forgive me.)

Tomura opened his eyes and found he was not alone. There were... things? beings? all around him. Some looked human or at least human-shaped; others looked like they'd started out human, but had been broken apart and the pieces reassembled with new parts like Frankenstein's monster on crack; and a few were nothing but smears of color and light.

Rivet Stab and Air Cannon! he realized, seeing one with wings made of jagged red and black spears, and another with little tornadoes for hands. These were quirks! All the quirks All For One has stolen. It kinda made sense he’d be here with them. Quirks were a piece of a person, after all, and right now Tomura was a fragment of himself. As he pulled more of himself together, his vision sharpened and something else came into focus: All the quirks were wrapped in chains colored the ugly red-brown of dried blood. His eyes lingered on those chains, following the links as they stretched up into an infinity of roiling dark, then back down to the mass of stolen quirks.

Stolen and broken, he thought. Just like me. A smile began to grow on what he assumed was his face. 

"Hey!” The quirks turned toward him, and his smile turned into a grin. “You guys interested in a co-op?"

Oh yeah, and AFO gets dead in the end. Don't you worry about that, my darlings. AFO wanted a weapon of hatred, he's gonna GET a weapon of hatred. 😈

[scattered-dreamers]

I lost a small part of chapter 3, but as it was involving Gertrude and Jon, I just played Mrs. Robinson on repeat and it came back better than before.

I am both pleased and amused. Lol

[galactic-rhea]

Test Flight (ficlet)

Okay, I know I SHOULDN'T be brainstorming let alone writing AU things when I still haven't watched the movies or finished the series, I apologize.

But I just was possesed by writing this funny interaction of:

"Han Solo loses all of his confidence when he needs to make a good impression for Leia's parents. Aka Padmé and no-evil-Anakin( not evil but still sharper at the edges and very serious because of the horrors)" and I figured I might as well just post it.

Word count: ~ 1k Warnings: None. (Possibly some OOC because like I said I still haven't watched the movies, although i tried my best, sorry)

It must be made clear that Han didn’t exactly agree with any of this, he wasn’t eager nor looking forward to being welcomed into Leia’s prestigious family. If anything, he would rather go on with their lives far away from Naboo’s aristocracy and what not. And for starters, he wasn’t sure he was going to be welcomed, per se.

But Leia had been insistent. And there was nothing on that planet or the whole galaxy that could change her mind. So he had no other choice but trying to look for the best of his clothes, which he suspected would get the snobbish aristocracy laughing at him.

Well, maybe not Leia’s family. She was quite an oddball, and it seemed to run in the family, as neither of her parents, or Luke, for that matter, seemed to be normal. First there was Senator Amidala, whom Han had seen just briefly and watched some of her speeches through holograms.

For an aristocrat and a senator, there were quite the wild stories of her being in the middle of an open fire; she being the one holding a gun.  And second, she seemed…strangely just, for a politician, that was it.

But Senator Amidala wasn’t the one he was both intrigued and concerned (even though Luke insisted it was their mother the one in charge). Leia’s father was no other than famous, or perhaps infamous, depending on who you asked, Anakin Skywalker. Legendary war hero, retired jedi and turned aristocrat of Naboo after marrying Senator Amidala. 

He was a secretive, and shady person, and Hans had never seen him, all he knew from him were among bar rumors and telltales. The only thing he was sure of, was that he was  particularly adept at training his own children in his own ways, and if rumors were true, he also led some underground operation of rebels in Naboo.

But he forced himself to not believe in these. After all, Luke and Leia spoke of their father as a fairly fun guy. 

As he stepped out of the speeder and looked up to appreciate the palace, he sighed. Yes, perhaps he should be more concerned about the senator than some failed jedi that fell into a scandalous affair.

He was escorted by guards through long hallways until Leia materialized at his side, seemingly from one of the upstairs. He felt as though it was easier to get lost in such a place than into any forest he had known. 

“Hey,” he greeted. 

“Hey,” Leia smiled and leaned closer to him to speak without being heard by the guards. “I already softened them. All you have to do it’s not make a fool of yourself for an hour or so, it should be easy even for you, right?”

“I never make a fool of myself,” he retorted with a cheeky smile.

“Huh huh.” They both turned in time when Luke appeared from other of the hallways,  waving his hand and loudly greeting them

“You better don't pick up on Luke,” Leia rolled her eyes and twisted her lips as if the thought was too sugary and cheesy for someone like her. “He’s their dumb baby boy.”

“That will make things harder,” Han chuckled as they watched Luke approach.

They shared greetings and a few meaningless words before finally moving onto the dining hall. A giant room with a table several meters long. 

“You don’t look relaxed,” Luke pointed out, and if Luke was pointing it out, it meant he was doing a poor job at being calm. He wasn’t even sure what was worrying about this whole ordeal. At worst, Leia’s family would forbid him from their private parties, right?

He had had no time to answer when the opposite doors opened and everyone directed their attention towards the pair now approaching them. Han squared his shoulders, while Leia and Luke did not so much as to minimally change their stances.

Senator Amidala was regal and with a long white dress adorned with different shades of golden. She held a kind smile, and her hair and makeup was remarkable. A stark contrast to how little makeup Leia would usually wear. 

And at her side, towering over her for several inches; Anakin Skywalker strode in perfect coordination with his wife. He had a mild, barely noticeable limping. And if Han hadn’t trained his eyes to immediately search for weakness on anyone who enters his vision, he probably wouldn’t have ever noticed. 

Skywalker’s eyes were cold and his semblance stoic. Not exactly what Hans was expecting from a retired, or more like, fired, jedi. His whole presence filled the room with certain heaviness, as if the air had become charged with static and with each step, Hans felt more and more uneasy, struggling to remain still. 

“Senator, Amidala,” Han bowed his head slightly, then he turned towards the retired jedi and vacillated. How was he supposed to call him? He took several seconds to address Anakin before he could come up with something. “Mr….Amidala?”

He supposed a senator’s surname held more importance than a retired jedi’s one, right? 

It seemed to be the wrong answer, though,  by the way Luke scoffed and Leia turned her eyes away from him. The senator seemed amused, as she turned to look at her companion, but Anakin’s expression barely changed.

“Shall we begin our dinner?” With no amability or whatsoever, he spoke in a low, raspy voice, and Hans wondered if it was the aftermath of an old battle wound.

They all got on their respective seats and started dinner rather awkwardly. Senator Amidala would be the most talkative, prompting questions towards her children and a few directed towards Han. If it weren’t because Leia’s father wouldn’t take his icy glare away from him, it would have been a rather pleasant dinner. He figured it would be best if he was the one to start the conversation with Skywalker.

“I heard you’re a skilled mechanic, sir-”

“How old are you?” General Skywalker cut in dryly as he started cutting his steak.

Han hesitated, pondering his options. He could always lie…But given Anakin Skywalker’s reputation, he wouldn't be surprised if the man could somehow read minds as well.

“Twenty five,sir,” he answered simply. 

"I see..." He answered emotionlessly and then carried his eyes towards Leia, who , if anything, seemed mildly curious, rather than intimidated. "Perhaps you should be socializing with people of your age, instead of chasing after older people, don't you think, youngling?"

Leia's brows joined together in an offended glare. However, the corner of the retired general curved upwards; bordering into a smile. Senator Amidala, however, was rather obvious, as she brought her glass of wine towards her lips in an attempt to hide a mischievous smile.

“I don’t chase,” Leia let out an airy huff and held her father’s gaze. “They all get into a line and I choose.”

“What line? Hans is the only one who could stand you,” Luke raised his voice, and it was hard to understand if his question was serious or he was merely attempting to rile up Leia. 

“I fought all the others in the line, actually,” Han smiled with a wink, hoping his intervention would avoid any argument between the siblings. 

“Cute,” Senator Amidala smiled, approving of Han’s sense of humor. She turned her attention onto her husband with a raised eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with your steak, dear?”

General Skywalker’s eyes shone with a hint of amusement for a heartbeat before his expression returned to cold stone as he looked down at his plate; he had already run out of parts to cut. “Yes. Insipid…” He returned to glare at their guest. “Dull.”

“Do you want mine, pa’?” Luke offered, probably breaking every single dining rule known to aristocracy. 

“No, Luke.”

Han shifted on his chair and tried to focus on eating; the faster they finished dinner, the faster he could run away from Anakin’s unbearable deadly look.

Leia cleared her throat, leaning towards his father, who immediately turned all of his attention onto her.

“Dad, I bet you didn’t know Han is a pilot.”

Anakin hummed, considering this and then landed his seemingly eternal glare back onto Han. 

“I did not. Is that true?” 

Leia turned her face to Han and gestured, twisting her mouth as she spoke silent words. Words that Han didn’t understand, not even a single one. He frowned as he tried to piece the words together until he realized Anakin’s impatient hum. 

“Yes…Sir. I’m.” 

“Are you good?” Anakin pressed, reaching with his robotic arm a glass of wine.

Han raised his chin with a wide and confident smile. “The best.”

The general’s expression changed, as he stopped mid-drink and lowered his glass. He curled his lips into an authentic cocky smile. Strangely enough, the smile of someone who’s used to laughing and playing around, and it made him appear almost like a different person.

“Oh, really?” He scoffed, leaning against the back of his chair. “Let’s have a race, then.”

Han blinked, unsure about what to answer. He looked for Leia’s guidance and help, but she had her head turned towards her parents.

“Ani,” Senator Amidala gave her husband a look. 

“He says he’s the best, I wanna know if he’s lying.” He shrugged. “If he didn’t lie, there’s nothing to fear.”

“We’re having dinner.”

“We just finished dinner, m’ lady,”  he gave a quick glance at Luke and Leia’s plates to point out his words. Then landed his eyes on Han. “So, what do you say…Mr. Solo?”

He supposed he would rather show off his skills at piloting (even if it meant to embarrass Leia’s father in a race) than to stay any single minute at this horrid frivolous dinner. He put down his fork and jumped onto his feet. 

“It will be my pleasure.”

Following his movements, the retired jedi rose up from his seat almost as if the frivolous dinner was just as annoying to him as it was to Hans. He pulled away his cloak in a swift movement and pulled his hair away from his face. 

Senator Amidala shook her head, but there was the faintest amused smile in her lips as she rose up as well and glanced at the twins.

“We'll need good seats.”

[femboy-springbonnie]

i forgot to post this i finished it like a day after i posted the WIP

its also really funny how i changed parts of how i draw RIGHT AFTER i finished this, so thats cool

anyways im writing rn

new work coming soon ish

[romaritimeharbor]

hydrangeas (the name of my demon slayer fic!) snippet upon ye... since chapter 1 is like, insanely long, i can afford to give you guys a big snippet teehee. @soleillunne

“Onee-chan! Onii-chan, look!” the brighter of the twins, Muichiro, exclaimed as he ran up to them, stumbling cutely to a stop before thrusting his arm outwards and up towards them. In it, a little flower was clasped. “It’s for you!” Amusedly trailing behind the boy were both parents and his slightly older brother, whose hand was held only somewhat securely in his mother’s. They waved with a bright smile at their parents before turning their attention back to their brother and kneeling down. “Aw,” they cooed. “Thank you Mui. That’s really sweet.” “Yuichiro has one too, but he’s too shy to give it to you,” the boy commented as he gently, gingerly placed the flower behind their ear. “Oh?” they replied, a teasing lilt in their voice as they curiously shifted their gaze from the youngest twin to the eldest. Yuichiro puffed out his slightly flushed cheeks with childish irritation that they had to actively restrain themselves from cooing at. “Is that so?” “Don’t say that, Muichiro,” Yuichiro huffed, shaking his hand free of his mother’s grip and reluctantly shuffling over to them. “Here,” he murmured, tucking his flower behind their other ear. They stared. Yuichiro knew instantly that he was in trouble. ‘Trouble,’ of course, meaning nothing serious–only that they were going to relentlessly tease him until the event became overshadowed by other tease-worthy occurrences. “You know, that’s cute,” they teased, hands reaching out and gently patting each of their heads, “you guys are the cutest.”

[radlyradar]

Sharing a moment.

Mr. Pink/Mr. Brown or Mark Nussy/Dennis Koonstock

AO3 LINK

Chapter one: 1021 words, full chapter here and AO3 :D

Fix-it, mild annoyance to lovers

Mark is a clingy person, but does he really want Brown to know that?

Brown stares at his sandwich as he tunes out Brown’s rant. Something about lions or some shit that he had stopped paying attention to when he had started using his ‘fun fact’ voice. They had just finished scouting a path to get away from the bank, and Brown had suggested they go eat before they went home. “Don’t you think it means something?” his question snaps Mark out of it.

"What?” “Lions man, They’re scared of honey badgers when they’re like born. Like instinct or something.” He’s way too excited, but Mark decides to humor him. “How's that?” Brown’s eyes light up, as he starts talking again. Mark stares back down at his sandwich, still following his words. Something about his food looked wrong, he glances over at Mark’s half eaten sandwich. “Yeah, that sounds fake.” Mark drags his eyes up to Brown’s. “It’s not! Swear on my mother!” “Careful, you may be out of a home without her.” This successfully got Brown to chuckle. Something about making him laugh always makes Mark feel accomplished.

“How's your food?” “It’s alright.” A blatant lie, both of them know the sandwich hasn't been touched. Brown picked up a chip and ate it. Then offers one to Mark, “I have my own fucking chips.” “But I want to give you some of mine. You don’t look like you’re enjoying yours.” “It’s the same chips.” Brown only held the chip out further. “Is it really?”

Brown smiles and something about that infuriates Mark. It’s not, they both know it’s not the same.

“You’re a real asshole you know?” Mark mutters as he snatches it away.

===

It’s dark already when Brown drove him home. They stop at a gas station. “Why’d we stop?” “I wanted to get a snack.” Brown gets out of the car, almost skipping away. Mark groans and sinks in his seat watching Brown until he walks out of view. He looks in the backseat to see his sandwich. He’s been like this all his life, he’d rather share something than enjoy it alone. He was always painfully aware of how this contradicted his usual disposition. Still, he couldn’t help it some people just made him- “I couldn’t find those chips you like so I just got these.” Brown tosses him a bag. “What the fuck are these?” Mark picks up the Dorito 3Ds. “Doritos!” Mark stares at him, “These are not Doritos.” “It says Doritos.” “Why are they puffy?” “They’re not puffy, they're 3D!” Brown’s smiling, Mark just rolls his eyes and tossed the chips back. “I’m fine, not hungry anyways.” Mark turns away and stares out the window, onto the sidewalk where the fluorescent lights weaken and the darkness starts to swallow any detail in the cement. “Why are we not moving?” Mark asks as he hears Brown crunching on some chips. “I just wanted to eat first. Do you want any?” Mark just holds his hand out. When he’s given the chip he puts it in his mouth before even looking at it. They follow the same pattern that they’ve seemed to fall into during the time they’ve known each other. Brown ate, then offered him some, Mark took it and Brown ate some more. It’s a system that makes sense. Mark likes that about Brown. He makes sense.

“Alrighty time to go!” The car starts and Brown smiles over at him. Mark turns back. As the car starts moving, Mark looks down at the empty bag of Doritos and turns back to the window.

===

Brown stops at a building a few blocks away from Mark’s apartment. He didn’t want him knowing exactly where he lived. As Mark gets out Brown says something that surprises him. “Hey I know we’re not supposed to be all buddy-buddy, but today was fun.” Brown isn’t sure how to respond, he looks at his friend- his coworker’s face. So he just nods and asks “Can we do this again? Maybe get pizza.” “I don’t know...not really professional is it?” When Mark says this Brown seems to deflate. “Yeah, you’re right, have a good night Pink.” Brown starts the car and drives away. He feels his chest tighten with regret. Regret? Really? Over Brown? The guy who talks about stupid hidden meanings and weird conspiracy theories all day? Mark pushes it away, making it a problem to deal with another time, as he walks in his apartment. Turning on the lights. He’s felt a lot of emotions over his new friend, most being quite disturbing to realize. Like his fondness of him. Mark finds genuine comfort in him, for years he’s felt something like this but now he has and it's him? He loves listening to his stupid rants and getting into pointless arguments with him. What did it mean? Ring ring! Mark walks over to the phone and picks it up, he wasn’t expecting a call. “Hello?” he asks. “Hey. Pink?” Brown’s voice comes from the other end. Mark felt his heart do something funny, though the reason was something that eluded him. “Hey, Brown… What’s up?” He cringes at his own words. “I just wanted to check if you got home safe, I know we’re not supposed to use our numbers for this but-” “Yeah I’m home.” “Yeah, cool, okay. I should go.” Brown says, but he doesn’t, thank god he doesn’t because that gives Mark some time. “Brown, you know what you were talking about yesterday, with the pizza?” “Yeah?” “I changed my mind, I think it’d be fun, and um. Help us with coordinating later.” His words come out fast and he can’t help but feel embarrassed. “Really? Cool, how about Friday, I’ll pick you up at umm.” Mark can hear Brown shuffling through some papers. “six?” “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll make sure to bring a movie.” “Yeah.” Something in Brown’s voice makes Mark’s chest feel light. “I’ll see you then.” Mark hangs up and sits on his bed. Why did he feel like this, excited and nervous? He covered his face as his mind ran rampant with confusion and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

[moog-rt]

ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ [ch.3]

[Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader]

Beginning: Prologue

Previous: Chapter Two

➨ Chapter Three

Next: Chapter Four

Premise:

The multiverse theory is the idea that there is not only one universe but, instead, an infinite number of universes, parallel to one another.

You and Tenko were heroes in your universe. The war came and went, and that left only you. When you are thrown into a universe parallel to yours, you find out the hard way just how similar and different it is from your own.

A/N: And the moment we've all been waiting for!!

♡

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER THREE

You staggered down the hall as best you could. The majority of your joints had been encased in hardened clumps of clay from your last match. It turned what should have been a mindless task into quite the obstacle.

Carefully putting all of your weight onto one leg, you would swing the other in front of you before transitioning your weight to that one. It was tedious, as there were a couple times your balance was off and you’d wobble for a few seconds before regaining your footing.

You felt like you were practicing for the next Lego movie.

Every few minutes, you would pause to hammer at the clay deposits with a metal water bottle you’d found on a bench. You didn’t know whose it was, but you’d be sure to return it once you were done.

Part of you hoped it belonged to the bastard student that put you in this situation to begin with.

You understood that the UA Sports Festival was all about competing and whatnot, but the guy could have at least removed the clay once the round was over. Now, you were stuck being somewhat incapacitated until you got it all off.

You were barely making a dent with the water bottle, so you prayed that the nurse had something in her arsenal that could at least help you wiggle out.

You leaned down once more to start battering away at the large clump around your knee. By the time you realized your footing was off, it was too late as you slowly began falling forward. You yelped and waved your arms around in hope of regaining your balance, but it was all for naught.

Your body thudded to the floor, and you could hear metal ringing as the water bottle bounced and rolled out of reach. Groaning, you rolled onto your back and sat up as best you could. It took a moment before you concluded that you likely wouldn’t be able to get up without being able to bend your knees.

Maybe if you pushed yourself into a split, you could slowly inch your legs closer and closer together?

No. Even if you could get into the position, you would only be able to push yourself up as far as your arms could reach, then you’d be stuck again.

Finally, you rolled onto your belly, deciding that imitating an inch worm would be your best bet. You were able to make some progress as you pushed your butt into the air and walked backwards with your hands.

You were almost to a 90 degree angle before the clay plastered to the front of your shoes lost traction and began to slide away. Cursing under your breath, you quickened the movements of your arms, but rather than pushing you up, you were pushing your entire body backwards down the hall.

Until your feet caught onto something behind you.

Tilting your upper body around to look, you saw a pair of legs, and your feet were lined up perfectly with theirs. Immediately, you dropped back down to the ground and turned onto your butt to face the teenage boy. Your face was already burning up from being caught in such an awkward position, and when your eyes met the stranger’s, the heat flourished to your ears and neck.

“Oh, jeez. I’m sorry…” You adjusted your arms to better support you sitting up while you showed off a lopsided grin. “I just had the–uh–sudden urge to do some yoga. No one was around so I figured there was no better time than the present.”

The boy, no doubt an upperclassman, with crimson eyes and jet-black hair stared at you for a moment before kneeling down.

“Downward dog?” he asked as he reached forward to touch one of the massive clay chunks engulfing your knees. “I thought that pose was supposed to be stationary.”

“I took some creative liberty with it.” You looked away for a moment before you quickly jerked your leg away from him. “What are you doing?”

His eyes were harsh as they flickered up to your face. He grabbed hold of your leg and pulled it back toward him, causing you to fall back.

“Hey!” you yelped. Pushing yourself back up onto your elbows, you shot a glare at the stranger.

He paid you no mind and cupped one of your knees with his hand. “Helping. You were clearly struggling.”

“I think you and I have different definitions of help—"

The clay began crumbling away as if it were made of sand.

“Woah…” You stared as he freed you from your earthen shackles.

You bent your knees and elbows once all the clay was removed. Standing up never felt so good. You turned to thank your savior only to see he was already walking away.

“Uh, hey!” you shouted and trotted after him.

He looked at you from the corner of his eyes when you matched his pace.

“Thanks for that. I was gonna go to the nurse, but I don’t think she would have been much help,” you gleamed, watching him with a wide smile.

“It was no problem,” he said while keeping his gaze ahead of him as you trotted along at his side.

♡ ♡

Your footsteps echoed through the ominous hallway as you kept pace with Shigaraki. You were certain he thought you were out of your damn mind after you regaled him with all that had happened to you. He seemed the most interested when you expressed your detest for the ‘heroes’ of this society.

“So…when did you dye your hair?” you asked to break the painfully uncomfortable silence you’d fallen into.

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye but kept walking. “Never, why would I?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” you said and made a gesture towards your own head. “But your hair used to be black. What happened?”

“I don’t remember,” he grumbled, scrunching up his nose. “That was a long time ago.”

“Your hair’s supposed to be black.”

He made an exasperated noise and began walking faster. You had been bouncing questions off of him for the majority of your journey. He had been patient with you for the most part, but you knew you could only push him so far before he got fed up.

“Hey!” You quickened your pace to catch up. “Tenko, wait—”

You thudded into him when he stopped abruptly and spun around to face you.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned, piercing into you with his eyes. “I shouldn’t have to tell you again.”

Your gaze bounced between both of his eyes before you stepped back. The two of you stayed that way for a moment before he turned around with a huff and continued down the hall. You followed in silence.

Shortly after your public freak-out, he corrected you for calling him Tenko. He went by Shigaraki Tomura here. You weren’t sure why he took on the surname of your sensei, but that was the least of your concerns. He also insisted that the people who were heroes have always been heroes, and the same went for the villains.

You were beginning to come to terms with the fact you were most likely in some kind of alternate reality. It wasn’t comforting by any means, but it was the best explanation you’d come up with thus far.

\Your eyes bore into Shigaraki’s back. He was vague when you asked where he was taking you. However, the warehouse you were in now was the same one that filled the space your agency once occupied. It felt somewhat eerie. You were walking through the ghost of the building that should have been there with a person who should be dead.

In a weird way, it was also comforting.

He led you through another open corridor and stopped at a large set of double doors. He paused for a moment, trying to be subtle as he glanced back at you, before pushing one of the doors open for you to walk through.

You waited for him to go in first, but you quickly got the message he was waiting on you. He stared you down as you passed by him. You felt as though you were under a microscope, like he was analyzing even your slightest movements and expressions.

To be fair, you were staring, as well. He was clearly much different than the person you remembered, and you had yet to figure out just how much of him was the same. You loved Tenko, but you also knew he could be touchy at times, so it was best for you to test the waters before diving in.

Upon entering the dilapidated room, you froze.

You had dreamt more dreams of your old friends than you could count. And not even one could compare to what you were seeing right now. You never would have imagined you’d find yourself in a room with everyone all together again. But here they were.

Everyone looked a little different, but even so, the familiarity that rushed through your veins made your eyes prick with tears. Your heartrate was picking up as your eyes darted around the room.

Years. It had been years since you’d last seen half of the people standing before you. You’ve stood beside them countless times before, and you’d imagined it many times since. However, in this moment, you were at a loss for words.

How often is it that you get to be reunited with your late comrades?

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—when your eyes landed on Jin, and you choked on whatever words were about to come out. Your throat constricted. It felt like everything around you was fuzzy, but it was clear around Jin. He was all you could see.

His death was something you would never forgive yourself for. Had you been where you were supposed to be, it never would have happened. Instead, you were distracted and acting on impulse. By the time you’d finally gotten to his side, it was far too late. In the last few moments you had with him, he never blamed you, not once, but you knew. You knew that you could have changed that outcome.

The memory of the way he had clung to you and wept was haunting.

You took a shaky step forward, your bottom lip quivering. You would have embraced him, but he beat you to it. His arms were wrapped so tightly around your shoulders, and you had to stand on your tiptoes as you were raised above the ground.

He choked on a sob of his own. “I knew you couldn’t really be dead. Good riddance!” Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, dragging you down with him, and began rubbing his face against the top of your head.

“Jin…” you whispered.

“You really got us good. I totally fell for it! Worst prank ever!”

Another pair of arms grappled you from behind and their tear-soaked face pressed against the back of your neck.

“I couldn’t believe it at first…” you recognized the voice as Toga’s, “but you’re really here!”

“I don’t—What are you talking about?” you stuttered. Your body trembled under the weight of your friends, and your mind was reeling as you tried to comprehend what they were saying. “Why would you say that? Why would you think I died?”

“Because we buried you ourselves. That’s why.” You looked up to see Iguchi walking towards you, his face a blank slate you couldn’t read. “So that begs the question, how did you dig yourself out of your own grave?”

“Iguchi—”

“You’ve never called me by my real name,” he cut in, raising his chin to look down his nose at you. “Who are you?”

Your confusion vanished, and all you could see was red. Your body grew impossibly tense, fists balled so tightly your nails would leave crescents on your palms.

“That’s such bullshit,” you spat as you pulled away from the arms of your friends to stand up abruptly. Your glare was booring through his thick skin. “What else would I have called you? Spinner? We’ve never used our hero names outside of work.”

He drew his head back as a scowl etched across his face.

Maybe he was like Shigaraki, and he created a new name for himself. Like Touya, too, now that you thought about it.

“Let’s not get too heated,” Atsuhiro spoke up with his hands raised as if to break apart a fight. “The circumstances may be out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t mean we should be jumping down each other’s throats.”

“You don’t even look the same,” Spinner added, ignoring Atsuhiro’s attempt at abating the growing conflict. “There’s no way you could pass as a teenager.”

“Okay, well, that’s just rude,” you bit back after taking a solid blow to your self-esteem.

“Can we go back for a second?”

You and Spinner both looked over to Shigaraki, mildly surprised after he seemed to have taken a backseat in this reunion of sorts. He pushed off the door frame where you entered the room and stalked towards you.

“To the part about using hero names,” he continued, stopping just a few feet away. “See, what you explained to me earlier gave me the impression that you felt the heroes’ actions were akin to a villain’s. What you’re implying now sounds a lot more like—”

“We’re heroes,” you cut in. The fire that had ignited inside you—the hope that everything wasn’t as warped as you initially perceived—was dwindling. “You’re all supposed to be heroes.”

Your eyes became softer, not out of sadness but of exhaustion. You were tired of all the mental hoops you were throwing yourself through trying to piece this new reality together. You certainly didn’t have the energy to force these people to believe in you.

Your spirit was crawling in on itself, and you wanted so badly to turn your back on everything that distressed you. It wouldn’t be impossible to walk away from your current engagement, but you’d still be forced to come to terms with the rest of this messed up society. You were surrounded by stressors with no place to hide.

“What on Earth would make you think that?” Shigaraki glowered at you.

“You mean, like, heroes to each other?” Toga chipped. She wrapped her body around you, resting her chin on your shoulder. “’Cause you’re totally my hero! You saved Jin and me from those nasty gangsters!”

“The Hassaikai?” you asked. You were pretty sure that’s what she was referring to. You remembered when the three of you had to face Mimic and the pillars he tried to crush you with. They would have killed both Jin and Toga had you not frozen them in time. “That did happen.”

“Of course it did. That’s the whole reason we thought you died!” Jin said as he threw his arms out for emphasis.

You shook your head. “No. I would have died if you two hadn’t saved me.”

“Ah, yes, just as I remember! That’s not how it went.” Jin waved his arms in denial. “We tried, but you were too far away.”

“I was far, yeah, but you guys were able to get me out of the way in time,” you corrected, “I was hospitalized because of the injuries, but I didn’t die.”

Jin didn’t respond. His hands fell to his sides and his shoulders dropped. You could feel Toga’s embrace tense before she slipped away from you. You glanced back at her, but her eyes were covered by her bangs.

“Look, I’m not the same person you know,” you sighed and walked back a few steps so you could face everyone, “But I remember dealing with Overhaul and his people. It was years ago, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same as what you’re talking about. I was in a coma for weeks following that fight, so it only makes sense that I—she would be in a hospital somewhere…”

Your voice fizzled away as you reflected on what Spinner had said earlier. They never lost your body. You weren’t considered missing to them. If they really did burry you, then there would be no doubt about your condition.

And if they hadn’t found your body, they wouldn’t be so quick to claim you were dead. Granted, you were assuming they had similar mindsets to the people you remembered them to be.

“I can’t be dead, that doesn’t make sense,” you murmured, shaking your head and backing away further.

You had thought that everyone’s roles within society were the only things different about this new timeline. Magne died here around the same time she did when you had lived through it. From what you read, the ambush on the Shie Hassaikai was conducted almost exactly the same as you remembered. Everything else was the same. Everyone was alive at the time they should be, but you were the outlier.

What happened differently here that resulted in your death rather than measly mutilation?

“The fact you’re standing here is what's really perplexing,” Shigaraki remarked, looking you up and down before his eyes settled on yours.

“I think…I’m pretty sure I was teleported,” you said with a new firmness in your voice. Subconsciously, you were pretty sure you had come to that conclusion a while ago. However, the lack of evidence that Dai Uchuu could teleport people and things across timelines made you hesitant to fully accept it.

You expected him to write off your theory as nonsense, possibly even laugh at your outlandish proposal. But Shigaraki’s gaze on you didn’t waver, didn’t so much as flinch. In fact, it seemed as though he could see right “By a quirk?” he asked. His arms unfolded, and he raised a hand to his neck, the tips of his fingers grazing along the scarred skin.

You nodded. “I had a run in with a villain whose quirk allows him to teleport objects. We never considered it could be anything more than that, but, before that point, everything was still normal.”

“Quirks have become more complex with each generation,” he remarked, looking off to the side. “It’s unlikely for such an overpowered one like that to exist, but it’s not impossible.”

He looked back at you with eyes that were no longer harsh. Your chest became light as all the stress that had accumulated over the past day withered away. You needed to sit, but before you could even consider finding somewhere to relax, there was a tug on your arm.

Toga was staring at you with wide eyes and a grin that felt all too familiar. “So, like, does that mean you’re from the future or something?”

Your eyebrows scrunched, and a corner of your lips tugged upwards. Of course that would be what caught her attention.

“I guess so. I’ve probably gone back almost three years,” you hummed.

“Ooh! Ooh! What happens between now and then?” she beamed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “Do we win?”

Your stomach churned.

The question itself was simple and could easily be answered by a civilian or governmental figure. You defeated the villains and locked them away. Society was safe for the time being, and everyone could go on with their lives as usual.

Obviously, there were some exceptions.

“If she is from the future, telling you what happens could mess everything up,” Spinner pointed out, putting a hand on his hip. “In every movie and game where they deal with time travel, they always talk about the consequences of changing the past.”

“I’m just asking what happens. I never said I’d change anything,” Toga retorted before blowing a raspberry in his direction. “Besides, if we’re heroes where she’s from, I think things are already messed up.”

The two began to bicker over the topic. Eventually, Atsuhiro joined in, bringing up the issue of paradoxes, which favored Spinner’s side of the argument. Jin seemed to do his best to follow along, taking on a supporting role for everyone involved in the conversation.

Touya had kept silent for almost the entirety of your little reunion, but you glanced over in time to see him kick off the wall he had been leaning against. He walked towards you with a lopsided grin.

“You’ve grown up nicely,” he ribbed.

Your upper lip curled at his implication. “I’m not sure I can say the same for you.”

He cackled. “What, do I start going grey?”

“I’d be a little more concerned with skincare if I were you,” you snipped, crossing your arms and turning your torso away from him.

Shigaraki was mostly keeping to himself on the sidelines. He looked like he was listening in on the argument between Toga and Spinner, but his eyes squinted after your retort, giving away his mild amusement. Touya followed your gaze and scoffed.

“You say that as if I’m the only one with skin issues,” he said with a raised voice, still facing Shigaraki.

At that, Shigaraki’s eyes shot over to Touya and narrowed.

“Do you have a preference for what I call you?” you inquired with a raised brow. You were heckled by two people about names at this point, so you might as well make it customary to check before offending anyone else.

“Dabi,” he stated in a flat tone. His teasing demeanor dropped completely. “If you call me anything else, you’ll be joining the fucked up skin club.”

Your lips pursed. “Noted.”

“What’s your plan until you go back to wherever you came from?” he asked, crossing his arms and turning away to face the intensifying commotion the others were causing.

That was something you still needed to work out. You couldn’t stay here forever, nor did you want to. Seeing friends of old was wonderful and all, but you still had a life you needed to get back to. You had a job to do and bills to pay. You weren’t sure if time was actively passing back home, but you didn’t want to take any chances.

Finding Dai Uchuu shouldn’t be too difficult with the right amount of research and public records. It would be tedious work, but you didn’t have many other options. Roaming city streets with your fingers crossed that you’d run into him would be like finding a needle in a haystack. He could have even fled to another country for all you knew.

“I stayed at a hotel last night. I’ll probably keep the room until I find the guy that sent me here. I was out to buy clothes and toiletries before—”

“You’re staying with us,” Shigaraki stated, walking up to the two of you.

Dabi cackled. “You’re really not wasting any time now that she’s your age.”

Shigaraki stood taller and raised his chin before turning to face you, opting to cut his comrade out of the conversation. “You said it yourself. We don’t actually know you, and it would be stupid to let you go off on your own. You’re a hero, which means you put the public’s best interest before all else.”

“I’m not so sure the public’s interest aligns with me here. Still, I understand where you’re coming from,” you conceded.

“Dabi, tell the others we’re done. You, come,” he demanded. He didn’t wait for a response and walked out of the room.

You found yourself, once again, trailing behind him. He led you back through the corridor and down a staircase to the basement level of the sketchy old building. You looked around at the various pipes that protruded through the cracked concrete walls. Some of them dripped, creating murky puddles that you had to dodge or hop over.

You got a bad feeling you were going to end up in a cell of sorts.

He did say he didn’t want you wandering freely…

The two of you stopped in front of a rotting wooden door that likely led to a closet or electrical room. However, he opened it to reveal a much larger space that appeared finished with painted drywall and linoleum flooring. There were no pipes to be seen aside from beneath a faucet that helped make up a kitchenette.

The room was clearly lived in from the wrappers, takeout containers, and stray articles of clothing that littered the ground around a beaten-up pair of old sofas. The cabinet door beneath the sink was missing, and some of the others looked as though one good tug could take them off their hinges. The countertops were also overdue for a good wipe down.

“Have you all been living here?” you asked, doing your best to hide your displeasure.

The closest you’d gotten to living with roommates was when UA forced all its students into dorms. Even then, you were all expected to clean up after yourselves and upkeep the place. 

It at least looked like everyone got their own rooms judging by the hallway that branched off of the common area. You didn’t count, but there seemed to be enough doors for everybody. A few of them were open, allowing you to see a bedroom that was fairly put together. Right next to it was a room that looked as though a bomb went off inside.

“You’ll share a room with one of us until you figure out how to fix your whole…situation.” Shigaraki went over to one of the couches to pull a balled-up blanket from between the cushions and threw at you without warning. You only partially caught it, most ended up draped over your head.

After a moment of befuddlement, you slipped the blanket off to see him standing in front of you. Your heart pounded as you watched his eyes roam over your face before looking down at your chest. You could feel an embarrassed blush begin to bubble in your cheeks.

He reached forward and pulled at the shoulder of your shirt. “I still don’t get why you’d wear something like this.”

You scoffed, swatting his hand away. “I thought we already went over this. My options were limited.”

“And that was really the best thing you could find?” he rolled his eyes.

“You know I was actively trying to buy something else to wear instead when you jumped me,” you quipped, crossing your arms.

“Toga has too many clothes. Go put something of hers on,” he demanded before turning away from you to plop himself on one of the couches. The creaking of the wood and springs under his weight made you cringe. It was only a matter of time before that old thing gave out.

“Or I can go back to my hotel to get my stuff, and I can buy a thing or two while I’m out,” you bargained as you paced over to him and leaned against the arm of the sofa.

“I told you, you’re not leaving.”

“Just go with me if you’re really that concerned,” you proposed, tilting your head with and equally crooked grin. “You owe me a shopping trip.”

Shigaraki had been trying to appear busy by fiddling with a TV remote, but his eyes flew back to you. He just stared until you raised your eyebrows expectantly. His attention went back to the remote. “We can figure something out later.”

♡ ♡ ♡

➨ Chapter Four

taglist: @boogiemansbitch @multisstuff

[flowercrowngods]

more sappy soft men (clarkson) because i say so

🤍 also on ao3

Scott breathes for what feels like the first time today the very second he steps outside of the school building, fresh air surrounding him in a cold but welcome embrace.

He loves his job, he really does, but parent-teacher nights are always the longest days and the longest nights of the year. Screw solstice; no one has lived through the longest day until they’ve had to explain to Mrs Mueller why her child should not stay in the science rooms unsupervised, and no, they cannot get an exception, and no, Kevin is not secretly a genius child that will become the next Einstein if only they can be allowed in the science rooms without a teacher. Three times, he’s had to explain, and only when another dad told her off did the woman finally relent.

The joys of being a teacher do not lie in the parent-teacher nights. He’s exhausted, he’s tired, his ears are ringing, his shoulders aching from being so tense, and all he wants is to build a Heisenberg compensator and teleport himself right into his bed.

The parking lot is almost empty, illuminated scarcely with the yellow light of street lamps, and it takes Scott a moment before he sees the familiar truck that never really fails to make him smile. He feels a brief pang of guilt when he realises that he doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t really feel like he can anymore, not until his ears stop ringing and his shoulders lose their tension. But then he remembers the incredible, patient, one-of-a-kind man behind the wheel.

Wayne Munson enjoys his silence. He’s incredibly good at them in a way that’s like balm to Scott’s brain, a way that makes him feel so calm even when his insides are all fluttery in Wayne’s company.

Slowly, he crosses the parking lot, walking towards the familiar car. There’s a smile on his face that’s not plastered on but rather involuntary. He can’t help it. Wayne is here to pick him up after a long, dreadful day, just to spend some time together. A few minute’s drive from here to Scott’s house, neither of them in the mood for talking after a long day. But it’s wonderful. It’s enough. It’s everything.

Heart in his throat, Scott opens the door and climbs into the car, instantly welcomed with warmth and the sound of quiet music. Not too loud to further fray his nerves, not too quiet to recognise the song and lyrics. Just perfect for background noise. Just perfect.

Wayne turns slightly in his seat and looks over, his eyes roaming over Scott’s face, his clothes, his posture, clinging to his smile and his hands for a second longer than the rest. They’re just sitting there, smiling at each other while Scott soaks up the warmth — of the car and of Wayne’s entire self. The tension slowly leaves his shoulders and he realises how tired he really is, as though a flip has been switched.

“Want me to take the long way home?”

Scott nods, fighting to keep his eyes open, comfortable and warm as he is.

“I’ve gotcha,” Wayne says then, and it’s a promise sewed with a smile and a warm hand reaching out to squeeze his hand as he starts the engine.

The vibrations are gentle and familiar, and soon Scott loses the fight against his heavy eyelids. He tries to track the comings and goings of the street lights but he gives up quickly, because Space Age Love Song is on and all he sees anymore are the visions of all the times Wayne has been waiting for him in the parking lot just to drive him home.

And though it took a while

I was falling in love

For a little while each time in the front seat of Wayne’s truck, Scott is falling in love. Wayne is worried sometimes about being gruff and not talking so much, about the words he says when he does talk. But Scott has never been someone who fell in love with words. Love, to him, is all about the silences and what fills them, the company they’re spent in.

Wayne does take the long way home, which usually translates to driving around Hawkins in the soft glow of the street lights until all tension has left Scott’s shoulders and his head lands against the cool window. And even once Scott is asleep, the king day catching up to him, he keeps driving, music making for great silent conversation.

Wayne has made them a mixtape, too, with the help of Steve and Eddie. Everything about these drives makes Scott feel emotions he logically knew existed, but has never had the privilege to feel. Not until Wayne. Not until Space Age Love Song in the school parking lot in early February. Not until Tougher Than The Rest as they pass his house for the fifth time without any indications of slowing.

Not until the sudden absence of the engine’s vibrations and a gentle hand in his hair wake him.

“You’re home,” Wayne says quietly, no hints of regret in his voice, only the secret adoration that’s taken Scott a few weeks to discover.

“Yeah,” he breathes, leaning into the touch, barely awake yet and happy to just stay here for the rest of his life. “I am.”

[morvantmortuary]

the miraculous mr. sunday -

(the magician)

(rarae aves’s slasher oc)

“You know, when I got my name, everyone in town was glad when Sunday rolled in. Nowadays I’m wondering if I need to rebrand. You, though - you can call me Seth. All my friends do.”

age: finally stopped aging somewhere in his mid-40s (5/22/1901)(taurus-gemini cusp) birthplace: A town that doesn’t exist anymore in Western Kansas, USA. height: 6’0” current location: ominously close to the parish line near Greymoon, Louisiana. favorite book: says it’s the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald (it’s really the wonderful wizard of oz by l. frank baum) hobbies: travel (anywhere the wind blows, really), oddities and miracles, old-fashioned circus/sideshows, magic, and their history (especially in the US tradition), parties (mostly attending, never hosts much himself for such a gregarious fellow), and any and all forms of theater and performance. being with as many people as possible, far from the empty fields and endless wind. occupation: former stage magician, now fixer for They Who Provide. Aspiring Necromancer.

(what he’d pick as his own walk-on music: I put a spell on you - screamin’ jay hawkins what it actually would be: when the circus came to town — aurelio voltaire fc: david dastmalchian, underrated horror darling of my heart.)

“You wouldn’t believe the kind of opportunities people just… throw away.” Seth Sunday flicks a vintage lighter open and closed as he speaks, almost without realizing it. He hasn’t needed it for decades now - no point in smoking when you don’t always need to breathe. it’s mostly there for him to fidget with, truthfully. “It’s not every day Destiny prostrates itself at your door, you know. You’d have to be awful conceited to act like it’s just going to hang around while you get your shoes on.” He laughs, and it’s a cold, hard little sound like something stunted from a lack of sun despite the warmth of his smile. “Me, I came up the old fashioned way.” The lighter flicks closed. “I saw my moment, and I didn’t wait for ‘my turn.’ I found my own way in. I gave everything I ever knew for just one chance. And now look at me.” He pulls another hand from the pocket of his long, oddly patterned black coat, but there’s something… unfamiliar about it. The fingertips are dark, as though they’ve lost blood and then been dipped in ash. The nails look like they’ll snag on any ephemeral trace of you they can reach. “You know the secret to getting everything you ever wanted?” he says, gazing almost admiringly at his warped digits. 

The longer you look, the more you’d swear the air over his fingertips starts to ripple. As if something is stroking the very fabric of the space around you, toying with the individual threads. 

When his eyes find yours, you feel like you’ve been shoved down a flight of stairs in the face of all that bottomless blackness. His smile isn’t so warm now. “I do.”

a history, of sorts:

Seth says he doesn’t remember his birth name. The one written in a mildewed family Bible in the middle of godforsaken nowhere, Kansas, on an overcast spring day in 1901. He doesn’t need to remember it. That child - later, that man - is dead. Has been for more than a century now.

He’d seen to that himself.

Seth’s parents were immigrants, would-be homesteaders in a countryside drenched in blood they were willing to overlook for the cheap promises of a government looking for labor. Then they were farmers. Farmers with shit luck in multiple regards: first in their curse of an eldest child, a sickly daydreamer with no stomach for the grisly aspects of tending livestock and no fortitude for planting crops, who spent good money on books and useless picture show tickets when it could have gone to food. Then in the fact that his mother got pregnant, again, far too late to save his parents’ marriage or for their struggling household to support more mouths.

But for a few years, the scrappy little family seemed to catch a break. For one blissful bubble after Isaac and Ezekiel were born healthy and hale, and there was a wheat boom in the wake of the first World War (the ‘Great War’, the war to end all wars, it had been called. So much for that.), it seemed like everything might just turn around. Father was strong, Mother was healthy, and Seth was set to inherit a thriving farm when it was his time. Seth hated every minute of it.

He wanted more. He was meant for more. He wanted to be one of the people from his childhood in the center of the three rings on his one and only visit to a circus, or someone in the glow of stage lights, on his brief ventures into the city for errands, or one of the ghostly faces on the giant shimmering screen in the lone little theater three towns over. The farm was the handcuffs he couldn’t manage to unlock, as easy as the traveling magicians made it look. He didn’t want younger brothers, or aging parents that clearly preferred them and not him, or the responsibilities of the supposedly cherished oldest son. He didn’t want to be born and die on the same plot of land, buried somewhere the cows could graze over for the rest of eternity, his name only ever meaning wasted potential. He’d tried to enlist for the Great War, tried to get sent abroad like other boys he knew. He was a little young, but he was tall for his age even then, and he almost - almost - got away to see the world.

But his father, a cheap bastard if he’d ever known one, had somehow scraped together enough money and their best cow to bribe the recruiters who came to town looking to look the other way. He wouldn’t dignify pretending it was done out of love, either. His father was a pragmatic man. He’d known that it was only ever about keeping enough labor for the farm, especially with his mother newly pregnant at the time.

His life as he knew it was only ever in service to those around him. Their choices defined his. It was enough to make any man see red, after so many years.

Then came what would be known to later generations as the Dust Bowl, and Seth’s world turned black.

The crops withered up, and so did the cows. Dirt swept through the skies in curtains so thick it blocked out the sun. There was no surface in the little ramshackle house that wasn’t covered in it by nightfall, no matter how much one swept or wiped or screamed. For years, it felt like his every breath was studded with grit. He had nightmares of being buried alive in the miserable barren plot that used to be the pasture.

Just when he thought he’d choke to death on it, his father beat him to the grave, leaving him and his fragile mother alone with his two boisterous brothers. He was the man of the house, now, and it made him want to claw off his own skin.

So much so, he thought it was worth trading someone else’s to escape. It’s no surprise that certain folklore has a habit of dispersing itself, even through a country as vast as this one was already. Tales whispered in half fear, half hope by the desperate circulate like much-needed storms, especially when those storms refuse to materialize.

It was Seth’s idea to go to the crossroads, but he let his mother think it was hers — a half-remembered story from the old country, rather than something strange he’d found in a book long forgotten under his bed. The little family trekked there together, walking the miles in shoes close to worn through, and only just reaching the nearest junction when his father’s cracked pocket watch read midnight.

Seth had been chosen to ask for the family’s salvation, for the ability to carry them all on for another year — he had the best English of the family, and what else would a demon speak in a land like this? But when something emerged from the darkness like it was a curtain, asking in a voice like smoke what he wanted…

Seth spoke up for himself, for the first time in his life.

He only felt a little bad when he saw what the demon did to his mother. But he couldn’t deny his own glee when he saw what happened to her precious twins. Before a quarter of an hour had passed, Seth could make fire appear at the tips of his fingers, could make coins appear from thin air. The things he could do would have caused his idol, Harry Houdini, to break into a nervous sweat. Everything he’d ever dreamed of as a lonely boy in the fields, he could do at his own merest whim.

Seth ditched his human name, and at the demon’s suggestion, adopted the surname of Sunday. “The Miraculous” had been his own touch. It was finally his turn to be the miracle he never was to his folks. And for decades, he was. He was beloved in the small towns he stopped in, his own traveling show, with a rotation of beautiful assistants at his beck and call over the years. Nothing was ever too good for him, he could dazzle his way into anywhere he wanted.

As long as he kept things square with They Who Provide, he was living the good life.

…But times have a habit of changing. As the world grew, magic - both real and sleight of hand - shank in its influence. For all his caustic nature, Seth Sunday was ill-equipped for a world that finally matched his inward cynicism. And what did They Who Provide need with some little nobody from the middle of nowhere, when they had entire established families, generations of magic, at their beck and call?

After decades of earning his keep by tying up his benefactors’ loose ends, Seth finally heard something very interesting: A whisper of a family down south that was refusing to hold up their end of their contract.

A family with power over Death itself.

…Well. If there was an open spot to fill, and no one there to fill it, Seth saw no reason he couldn’t throw his own metaphorical hat in the ring. After all, he has plenty of experience keeping demons satisfied. What’s three more names to add to his list of sacrifices?

There was always something to be said for reinventing oneself when your act was getting stale. He could see himself growing into “The Miraculous Master Lazarus” just fine.

[panic-flavored]

In a dangerous, dystopian world ruled by the tyrannical Federation, Stone is an ex-soldier rescued from death row only to be sold into slavery. Dr. Robotnik is the lead scientist for G.U.N.’s robotics division, forced to create weapons for a dictatorship that he hates. When the two of them are pulled together, they discover they may have a chance to bring down the Federation once and for all - though, falling in love was certainly never part of the plan.