#he should have died so much. he should have killed himself at the slightest inconvenience to get a little demon boost of power.

[quietwingsinthesky]

in the secret good version of s10, dean keeps dying over and over again, keeps being reborn as a demon—a little faster with each death like his soul is getting more used to turning—and every time, sam has to catch him, tie him up in the bunker, and force his blood into dean until he’s dragged back to humanity. and dean also escapes more than once, though sam keeps piling on chains and magic to keep him down. as a demon, he kills to hurt sam, to make him stop forcing dean to change back again, like if he can take enough lives then sam will give up on him. sam never does.

[babybluebex]

sugar pie, honey bunch [lee bodecker smut]

➽ pairing: lee bodecker x fem!reader(y/n) ➽ word count: 4.3k ➽ summary: lee gets tired of your secret rendezvous at work, so he comes to your house and does something about it.   ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. explicit language, smut, unprotected sex (pls wear a condom), daddy kink, degradation, infidelity by both parties, loss of virginity, mentions of anal sex ➽ a/n: if you know me irl no u don’t <3

It was quiet. Too quiet. I hated that. The silence let my thoughts run amok and that was never good for anybody, but least of all me. I had a tendency to overthink things, and quiet and still only amplified that. Knockemstiff, Ohio was the absolute worst place to live if you hated silence, because nothing happened in that little town. About twelve years ago, there had been a veteran who killed himself after his wife died, but that was the loudest thing that had ever happened to my little Knockemstiff. I should know; I worked as a secretary at the police station. I heard all of the gossip from around town. Earlier today, someone had been arrested for being drunk, which I think everyone in Knockemstiff could be in violation of. Every other day was quiet. It was hell. 

I could hear the crickets way out in the fields as I walked around the house. Those bugs served as my soundtrack as I found a box of matches and quietly slid a few into my mouth, and I padded through the house until I reached the front door. Knockemstiff was the sort of town where people didn’t use their front doors unless the Pope was showing up; it was all side doors and garages (if you were lucky enough to have one, which most of us didn’t). All that to say, I knew I could smoke by the front door and nobody would smell it. 

The night was hot. Oppressive and stifling, nearly suffocating. My skin was tacky against my nightshirt as I struck a match and lit a cigarette, and I leaned up against the side of the house. The moon was full, casting silver light onto my barren front yard and the dirt road that stretched exactly from one side of town to the other that ran in front of the house. It was a weird sort of beautiful. But quiet. Oh so quiet. 

Quiet, until I heard the far-off rumbling of a car. It wasn’t unheard of to get visitors in the night-- usually someone coming to ask me about the police station, because nobody had the balls or willpower to call our sheriff after hours-- but the noise drew closer at a snail’s pace. Whoever this was wasn’t in any hurry at all. Finally, a car rolled up in front of the house, the headlights off. There was a moment where I watched the car, then I sighed when the door wrenched open to reveal Lee Bodecker. The sheriff was a nice enough guy, maybe at the risk of being too nice sometimes and a total prick at others, but I was at a loss for why the hell he’d be here this late at night with his cruiser’s lights off. If it were an urgent police matter, he’d have his flashing lights on. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Sheriff Bodecker told me, his voice carrying across the yard. 

“Do what?” I quipped. 

His boots brushed the porch as he climbed the steps up, and I caught his eye in the moonlight. “Smoking’s unbecoming of a young woman,” Bodecker told me pointedly. “Anyway, it’s a bad habit.” 

“You come to lecture me on smoking?” I asked. “I ain’t quite finished typing up that arrest report yet, if that’s what you’re after.” 

“No, no,” Bodecker said. “Nah, I ain’t here for that, sugar.” 

“Oh?” I said, crossing my arms. “And what are you here for?” 

“We’ll get to that soon enough,” Bodecker said. “Ain’t you gonna invite me in? It’s awful late.” 

“Exactly why I’m not gonna do that,” I said quickly, taking an exaggerated drag on my cigarette. “People talk, Lee. Blowjobs in the supply closet during lunch break are one thing; showing up to my house unannounced at half past midnight is something else. And I ain’t gonna be no Whore of Knockemstiff, ya hear me? Run along. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Invite me in, Y/N,” Bodecker said, tilting his head down to look me in the eyes. Bodecker was imposing: six feet tall and sturdy as a mule, even if his middle was getting a little soft. He had these steel-blue eyes that cut right to my core and gorgeous eyelashes, with puffy pink lips and a little cleft in his chin. Maybe if he were ten years younger, thirty pounds lighter, with one less marriage, I’d be into him properly, but that wasn’t the case. Our relationship was one of necessity (but aren’t they all?). His pretty little wife had stopped sucking his cock and he had a thing for my pink lipstick. It worked. That wasn’t to say that I didn’t enjoy our little trysts, because I definitely did, but something felt off about this certain encounter. He had never paid me a visit at home before. “Be a good little host for me.” 

I huffed and stamped out my cigarette. “Come in, won’t you?” I grumbled, throwing open the squeaky screen door. It felt off to have Lee in my house, but everything about us was off. I guess this was only normal. 

I flipped the light on and settled myself against the counter as Lee pulled off his tan sheriff’s hat. His hair was dark as pitch, shorn short on all sides but getting a little long at the top, and little wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes as he squinted at the pictures I had on the fridge. “And who’s this?” he asked, pressing his thumb into a picture. 

I looked at it and clenched my teeth. “Boyfriend,” I answered simply. 

“Oh?” Lee chuckled. “And where is he?” 

“Well, right now, he’s in ‘Nam,” I answered. “He enlisted, got sent over.” 

“And he didn’t propose before he left?” Lee asked, and I shook my head. “Hmm. Usually when men go to war, they make sure that they’ll have someone waiting for them when they get back.” 

“Why are you here?” I asked suddenly. “What do you want?” 

“The wife’s mad at me tonight,” Lee said. “She was drinking and started yellin’ at me. Said I was better gone.” 

“And you came here?” I said. “Why?” 

“Got nowhere else to go,” Lee shrugged. “And I figured that you’d welcome me.” 

“You couldn’t go to a bar?” I asked. 

“Not unless I wanted to run into my sister,” Lee said. “And I don’t feel like having a fucking lecture.” 

I sucked in air through my teeth. “Fine,” I finally said. “But you’re on the couch.” 

“Aw, c’mon, babe,” Lee groaned. He approached me at my place at the counter, and his arms went on either side of me, keeping me right where he wanted me. “It’s been a long day for me. You’re not really gonna make me sleep on no stinkin’ couch, are ya?”

“I sure am,” I told him. “‘Cause you’re sure as hell not sleeping in the bed.”

Lee tilted his head. “Not even a good night kiss?” he asked. 

“No,” I said. “This is an inconvenience for me. I got shit to do tomorrow and I need sleep.” 

“Which is why you were outside smoking,” Lee said. 

“Helps me calm down,” I snapped. “Lee. Let me go.” 

“You sure are a stupid little bitch, huh?” Lee sneered. “You really think I rolled up to your house just wanting a place to sleep? Honey, you shoulda been expecting more.” 

Lee regularly spoke to me like this, but it was usually while I was tying my hair back and kneeling down in front of him. “Don’t call me that,” I said. 

“It’s true, though, ain’t it?” Lee asked. “Just a dumb bitch, that’s all you are. You fuck a married man and try to act like you’re better than everyone else. And you don’t think everyone knows?”

My ego deflated in half a second. “Do they?” I asked shakily. 

“That’s why the wife kicked me out,” Lee said. “Someone told her I was fuckin’ you, and she got mad. Asked for a divorce and all.” 

“We’re not fucking, though,” I tried to counter. 

“Oh, so you’ll put my cock in your mouth and call it ‘convienience’, but you draw the line at calling that ‘fucking’?” Lee scoffed. “C’mon, sugar. The whole town already knows it.” I tried to keep my chin up, but I know that Lee saw my lip trembling. “Oh,” he chuckled. “Except the whole town doesn’t know, do they? Your little boyfriend goes to sacrifice himself for the betterment of our fuckin’ country, and you’re here, whoring yourself out for me? Is that why you don’t wanna fuck me proper? Saving your first time for that bitch-boy?” 

“I’m not a virgin,” I said, but Lee instantly saw through my lie. 

“Bullshit,” he said. “You know how I know? You suck cock like a high schooler.” Lee’s hand went to my waist, and he held me a tight, bruising grip. His hands were so much stronger than I had imagined, and an unfamiliar heat bloomed between my legs. My arousal wasn’t usually a part of the supply closet moments between us, and I had never really felt that before my boyfriend left. This was uncharted territory for me, and I hated that Lee seemed to instantly know that. “I bet you think about me every night, don’t you?” Lee asked. He leaned into me and pressed a kiss to my neck, and a shiver ran down my spine. “Don’t you?” He growled, taking my skin between his front teeth. 

“Fuck,” I hissed. “You’re a dick.”

“Answer me,” Lee snapped, smacking my ass hard enough to make me gasp in pain. “You think of me fucking you stupid every single goddamn night, don’t you? I can tell, with the way you eye me at the station. You’re not subtle, honey, not in the slightest.” 

“Lee,” I whimpered. “You’re hurting me.” 

“Good,” Lee huffed into my neck. He shoved his hips against mine with enough force for my waist to collide with my countertop, and I became well and truly stuck between Lee’s rock-hard cock and the counter. I knew what he was offering, and I couldn’t deny that the thought of his thick cock inside of me made butterflies erupt in my tummy. He kissed my neck, becoming more needy by the second, and he finally sank his teeth into my skin. “Gonna have to make up your mind, sugar, or I’ll do it for you.” 

I gulped down my anxiety, and I whispered, “Be gentle.” 

“That’s a good girl,” Lee chuckled. “Show me where that bed is, sugar. I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t remember your own goddamn name.” 

As soon as I pulled Lee into my bedroom, he had pushed me onto the bed and was kissing me hard. He bit my lips and sucked on my tongue, and he swallowed every pathetic moan I let out. God, I was pathetic. I was shaking, I wanted him so badly. Lee obviously knew that and had no problem with letting it go to his head, because he situated himself over me and gave me a wolfish smile. “You want me to undress you, sugar?” he asked. 

“I can do it,” I told him. 

Quickly, I rid myself of my nightshirt, and my skin tingled at the exposure to the air. Lee gave a gentle sigh, almost like one of relief, and dipped his head to my chest. He ran his tongue from the dip of my neck to between my breasts, and he latched his teeth onto one of my nipples with no warning. I nearly gave a shout of surprise, but I kept it contained. If this bit of foreplay was any indication, there would be enough time for shouting and crying later. 

“These…” Lee growled, grabbing at my breasts with rough hands. “Perfect fuckin’ tits, sugar, Jesus. Wanna come all over them. I just might have to.” 

Lee’s mouth went to my other breast, and one of his hands fluttered down from my chest to my waist, and even lower. Again, without so much as a censure, he pushed a finger past my folds and sunk himself knuckle-deep into my throbbing heat. My back arched against my will and I cried out at the amazing feel of it, and Lee laughed into my tits. “I’m only doin’ this ‘cause it’s your first time,” Lee told me, slowly dragging his finger in and out of me. It was a feeling like nothing I had ever experienced before, and I felt tears welling in my eyes. It was so fucking good. “If I had it my way, I’d already have my cock in you. Have you on your belly, fucking the hell outta you, watching myself fuck you so deep.”

“Please, Lee,” I sobbed. 

Through my watery gaze, I saw Lee smile against my chest. “Oh, what a good girl,” he moaned softly. “You’re my little fuck-toy, ain’t ya? Just fuckin’ desperate and begging for it. I guess it won’t take too long to fuck you absolutely stupid, will it?” I shook my head, and I jerked in surprise when his calloused finger drove itself into that spot inside of me. I called out his name; I was too far gone to care about the sick pleasure I knew it gave him. “Beg for it, sugar. Beg me to fuck you dumb.” 

“Please, Lee,” I whimpered. “Lee, fuck, please. I-I want you to fuck me so hard, please, babe.” 

Lee withdrew his fingers from me and sent a hard slap to my throbbing clit. This time, my gasp was one of genuine pain. “That ain’t what you call me and you fuckin’ know it,” he grunted. “Do it right or don’t do it at all.” 

I knew what he wanted, and I was too far gone to care. “Oh, Daddy, please,” I mewled, squirming, longing for his touch once more. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me ‘til I can’t walk. I want you so deep in my pussy, please.” 

“That’s more like it,” Lee whispered. Then, with a strength that I didn’t know that he possessed, he turned me onto my stomach and tugged my hips into the air. My arms shook as I tried to steady myself, and I felt my wet arousal drip down my thigh. As I tried to steady my breathing and remove the fog from my mind, I heard the sounds of Lee undoing his belt and shoving his pants down his thick thighs. His big hand captured a handful of my hair unexpectedly and he tugged me upright with only a small huff of exertion, and he bit my neck again. Lee Bodecker was an animal, and I liked it that way. 

One hand stayed in my hair as his other guided himself inside of me, and I nearly felt sick. The stretch was otherworldly and, dare I say, painful. Maybe the prep he had been doing wasn’t such a poor idea. But I had made my bed; now I had to lie in it. “Slow down,” I panted, feeling the tears return, and I writhed in his grip. “Fuck, Daddy, it hurts.” 

“I know it does,” Lee whispered, biting my ear. “But you asked for this. You asked for me to fuck you, and I’m gonna do just that. And ya know what? I think I’ll come in this pretty little cunt. What do you think of that?” I started to protest, but Lee shoved his fingers in my mouth, effectively shutting me the hell up. Even if I wanted to say something, I couldn’t. “Fill you up to the fuckin’ brim, have it drip outta you, it’ll be such a filthy thing to see. Your little boytoy comes home from the war and you’ve been letting an older, married guy stuff you full of cum? You think he’ll like that? Think he’ll wanna share?” Lee snapped his hips forward, fully burying himself inside of me, and I gave a wrecked sob around his fingers. I thought for sure that he would split me in two. 

Lee’s fingers dug into my hip as he started a steady rhythm. I truly had no idea how old he was-- I imagined probably late 30s or early 40s-- but he was fucking me hard and fast with the stamina of someone my age. Either he had a lot of expertise in the field or he truly had the fantasy of coming inside of me and was wanting to hurry the process along. The more I thought about it, I realized that I really knew nothing about Lee. Not his wife’s name or if he had kids; I didn’t even know that he had a sister until he had mentioned it earlier. However, something about not knowing was better than knowing. At least, this way, I could sort-of distance myself from the act. I was fucking the sheriff (or, technically, he was fucking me), but we weren’t an item. I was just his favorite toy. 

Lee suddenly wrenched my arms behind me and captured them against his chest, fully restraining me and leaving me pliable for him. With his fingers still in my mouth, I could hardly do anything but submit, but I liked that. I couldn’t tell if the throbbing in my pussy was pleasure borne from the way he was punishing my g-spot, or pain derived from his taut balls hitting my wet pussy every second. I had gotten my wish; there was to be no walking in the morning. I could feel spit gathering at the corners of my mouth, and I nearly choked on it, but Lee suddenly slowed down, molding his soft body against my back. “Fuck, honey, I’m gettin’ close,” he panted in my ear. “Now’s the time to tell me if you want me to come in ya or not.” 

His fingers left my mouth, and I tried to form any thought. Lee was the only thing in my head, though, and I could only whimper out his name. That was answer enough for him, because he released my arm and shoved me down onto the bed. His hand grasped the back of my neck and held me down as his hips pounded in and out of me, huffing and panting. I never could have imagined that the sound of that would have turned me on as much as it did, but my muscles tightened around his fat cock, and he laughed. “Aw,” he cooed. “Does the little cunt need to come? I’ll be honest, I forgot all about that. Wanna make a mess all over Daddy’s cock, don’t you?” 

I answered with a keening whine, but that didn’t seem to be enough for Lee. He smacked my ass hard, surely adding to the redness and bruising that I know already existed, and he fisted my hair tighter. “Answer me, bitch,” he growled. “Say it. Say ‘I wanna come on your cock, Daddy’.” 

“I wanna--” I started, and a shudder went down my body when I felt something warm and wet find home on my asshole. I was so far past the point of degradation, and my mind instantly went somewhere else. I had heard about that, sure, but I had never imagined that that could be something that I wanted. And yet, here I was, Lee’s spit coating my ass, mumbling out words that would send me to hell. “Fuck, Daddy. Can you fuck my ass?” 

“Oh, is that what you want?” Lee asked. “As tempting as that is, I’ll save that for another night. I’m not sure you’re a virgin, sugar, begging for it up the ass. But, fuck, it looks so good… I guess we have something to look forward to, huh?” 

Lee’s arm wound around my body and he instantly went to my poor clit. His fingers had tugged at it enough to make it tender to the touch, and he abused it as he fucked right into my g-spot. “Jesus Christ,” Lee whispered. “Squeezing the shit outta me. I’m serious, honey, let me know if you don’t want me to come in you. You’re about to not-- fuck, Y/N-- have a choice.” 

“I want it,” I told him. “I fuckin’ want it.” 

That seemed to be the final straw, because Lee sent one more hard fuck into me, and I felt his cock twitch before warmth spilled into my pussy. The squelching as he continued to fuck me through his orgasm was so loud that I was afraid that the whole of Knockemstiff would hear it, but I couldn’t make up my mind on whether I cared or not. Somewhere in the middle of that, Lee cussed and began to rub my belly, whispering sweet things to me that would have felt out of place only minutes before. I didn’t realize that I had come. I liked the feeling of it, though, especially with how sweet Lee was suddenly.

“Good girl,” Lee told me. He shushed me as I moaned and cried, my pleasure edging on pain, and he pushed my hair away from my neck and placed gentle, open-mouthed kisses on my throat. “So, so good for me, ain’t ya? So goddamn pretty when you’re coming all over my cock. I can’t tell you how much I dreamt of this…” 

My entire body trembled as Lee pulled out of me, and I collapsed onto my bed, panting and trying to form a coherent thought that wasn’t just the sheriff’s name. Only a few seconds passed before he was on me again, but it felt different this time. Lee moved the two of us under the blankets and rubbed my back, and he kissed my forehead gently. I nearly thought it was love. As my tears dried and feeling returned to my fingers and toes, I became aware that Lee was naked against me. As far as I knew, he hadn’t undressed as he had fucked me. His skin was so warm and it was comforting, and I nuzzled my head into his soft chest. My throat was so dry as I tried to swallow to form words, and Lee titled my face up in order for me to look him in those pretty blue eyes of his. 

“How’re ya feeling, sugar?” He asked, his voice as wrecked and raw as mine. “Feelin’ alright?”

“Sore,” I mumbled. “It hurts, Lee.” 

“I’m sorry, honey,” Lee whispered, and I knew that he was being honest. Lee was perhaps the biggest jerk in town, his elected title obviously inflating his ego more than it should have, but I never knew that he was capable of being sweet in this manner. “I was real rough with ya and I just shouldn’t have been. I feel plum awful ‘bout it.” 

“No,” I croaked, splaying my hands against his chest. Underneath the coarse hair, I could make out white marks on his skin, and I pressed my forehead against him. As I studied his body, I saw more and more of the marks, and it was only when I saw my hip against his that I connected the dots. Stretch marks. My Lee had stretch marks all over him, just like I did. “Please don’t. I woulda stopped you if it was too much. Thank you.”

Lee nodded and sighed into my messy hair. “You looked so beautiful,” he told me. “Any man that calls you his is a lucky fuckin’ bastard, I’ll tell you that much.” 

I couldn’t help myself. My lips pressed against my chest, and I took care to kiss every mark I laid my eyes on. “You’re…” I began. “You’re gorgeous, Lee.” 

“Nah, knock that shit off,” Lee chuckled. “I ain’t nothin’ compared to you, sugar.” 

“No, really,” I told him. “Those big blue eyes, your pink cheeks… Your fat fuckin’ cock--” I laughed at myself, and Lee kissed the top of my head. “You’re the most handsome man I ever met.”

“Even more than your soldier boyfriend?” Lee asked. 

“My soldier boyfriend’s like a twig, Lee,” I told him. “There’s nothing there for me. But you…” 

“I’m fuckin’ fat, s’what I am,” Lee said with a smile, but I saw the hurt in his eyes. “I’m old and I’m fat--”

“Alright, shut up,” I said. Suddenly, a different sort of desire burned in me, and I pushed Lee onto his back before I straddled his waist. “There ain’t nothing wrong with you, ya hear? You are fucking perfect, Lee.”

The insecurity flashed across his face, darkening his features for only a second. “But the marks--” 

I twisted my body to show him my hip and thigh. “I got ‘em too,” I said. “And don’t act like you didn’t see them, not for one second. And what did you do? You didn’t give a shit. I don’t either. They’re a part of you, and you are so sexy, Lee. I wanted to jump your bones from the moment I met you, and nothing ‘bout that’s changed and nothing’ll make it change. And ya know what? I’d reckon you’re stuck with me, so get used to it.” 

“Oh, I’m stuck with ya, am I?” Lee asked with a smile. He tugged me down to him, pressing his tongue into my mouth once more, and the ache between my legs was replaced with the now-familiar pleasing tingle. “And I get no say in it?” 

“I think you got your say when you wanted to fuck me up the ass,” I said, sinking my teeth into his plush bottom lip. “What a fuckin’ cliche we are, huh? The sheriff fuckin’ his secretary.” 

“When I first hired you,” Lee began, his warm hands traveling all over my body, and his fingers took special care to trace the white marks along my thighs, hips, tits, and ass. “My wife hated the idea. She said she was worried that late nights at the station would wreak havoc on me, and having a pretty little thing like you there with me was dangerous.” 

“Don’t go talkin’ ‘bout your wife,” I groaned. “That’s such a turn off, Lee.” 

“Oh, is it?” Sheriff Lee Bodecker laughed, stuffing his fingers back inside me, just like nothing had ever happened. “‘Cause you seem all wet for Daddy, just the same.” 

[itsnothingofinterest]

So I’m a big believer that Shigaraki can, would, & totally should use his newfound godlike powers to revive Twice; it’s basically my Touya theory. But people tend to naturally oppose characters being brought back from the dead; and for numerous good reasons; lessens the impact of the death scene, reduces the weight of death in general, sets back potential arcs for other characters, just to name a few. People tend to not think it’s worth it, even for this guy:

But I kind of want to talk about that last point, and expand on it a bit. See, given recent chapters, I realized that alot of the characters who would be affected by Twice’s death have already been affected; their characters have begun to go down paths that would not reverse were Twice to come back, which I think helps his chances for revival. And what’s more, I think there’s a few characters whose arcs could actually be improved with his revival, and I’d like to discuss those too.

So if anyone’s interested, let’s go over them shall we.

Toga:

I mean everyone’s taken note of her new character arc. While previously just in the League for a combination of safety, Stain-infatuation, and her own whims; know she’s actually asking where heroes are willing to betray their morals and kill, if that means they’d kill her, what that all means, and what Izuku & Ochako think of this? Twice’s death may very well have sparked her transformation into a believer like Shigaraki & Dabi. And yeah; those are questions that, now that she’s asking them, won’t go away if Shigaraki performed a miracle.

Dabi:

Dabi’s actually a bit hard to talk about-largely because of how closed off he is-but it’s clear Twice’s death has had...an effect on him. Again, it’s hard to get into specifics due to how hard he is to read, but he seems more self-destructive and more ready to fight Endeavor and the other heroes. Part of this is of course because of Twice’s death, but some of his new eagerness to fight heroes might’ve stemmed from whatever expectations he had for heroes-low as they already were-dropping past rock bottom when Hawks killed his friend. So that’s one thing that’s not going away anytime soon.

Regardless, his new arc seems like it’s headed towards a real confrontation with Endeavor, meaning it may even conclude before he had a chance to reconcile with a theoretically-revived Twice. And by then, he could start a new arc; and I’m not sure how, but dead-friend-back-to-life could be a jumping off point for that.

Hawks:

This guy just did the one thing a hero is not meant to do; kill. And what’s more, he did it to betray & murder one of his only friends, if not his actual only friend, who would hate him if he were still alive and Hawks knows it. But it was all for some “Greater Good” or what have you, and Hawks gets to deal with the mental fallout of that. He gets to deal with how all his sacrifices for the greater good turned out.

Also people have been asking how Shigaraki will be getting his revenge on Hawks. How about this? How about it’s just undone? Like, Hawks blew it all on this; he sacrificed his place in the PLF, his chance for freedom, so many heroes lives, and his wings for the chance to bring the PLF down. All that’s been shown for it so far is Ujiko and Twice, & Ujiko already passed everything down. If they just took Twice back, this was all just an inconvenience; it was all for nothing.

Shigaraki:

Okay, Tomura’s different because he doesn’t actually know about Twice yet. I just think his character would go in more interesting directions if he revived Twice than if he didn’t and I wanted to discuss them.

See, Tomura’s the kind of guy who does whatever he can for his goals and his friends, and he doesn’t let common conventions hinder him in the slightest. When I propose Shigaraki revive Twice, one occasional response is that Shigaraki shouldn’t be a god. And that’s true and we all know it, but he doesn’t. Even if he shouldn’t revive the dead for whatever reason, he’s still going to try and probably succeed; and that could jump start an interesting arc for him, I think. On about having a God complex, or perhaps a savior complex would be more in character (maybe both).

You could even get some All Might parallels in there if this incident has him believe there’s nothing he can’t do; only to later be confronted by things he cannot, in fact, do. Alone anyways.

Skeptic:

But this guy’s the real special case because he has not especially been affected by Twice’s death, nor would he really; I just think he’d have more to do if Twice were alive than dead. ‘Cause they have that arch-enemy vibe with the word “sitcom” sloppily stapled to the front after they were forced to work together. Heck, Skeptic blames Jin for the attack on the PLF, and he’s not going to be able to do anything with that anger if Twice died before he can yell at him. Like, what is he supposed to do from here? Say nothing because someone he didn’t like dies and everyone is mourning him?

Not to mention hating Jin is like a quarter of his character; right behind, MLA zealot, tech guy, & angry in general. Leave Twice dead and that’s like Skeptic’s whole connection to the League, unstable as it may be, gone.

Twice himself:

Lastly; while I won’t deny Twice met a fine end if that’s the way thing end up, let’s not forget that a lot happened to Twice that can’t exactly be followed up on while he’s dead. He got betrayed again, he got the League in trouble again, he thinks they’ll all hate him. He got told by Dabi they were all waiting on him despite all this but then he died. He thinks he’s a failure who endangered his friends with his trust and there’s places to go from there, you know?

Also Just in general, an arc about someone dying and coming back is pretty much the same as someone nearly dying; a kind of arc that generally works in media. There’s still going to be an effect from Twice’s death on his friends in a general sense like that; they’re all going to be worried about themselves dying and Twice dying going forward. So like, that’s also a thing.

Anyway, that’s my general ramblings about how I think these guys’ character arc could go if Twice came back to life. While I won’t deny I mostly want Twice revived because I want Twice back, I honestly do think it would do more good than harm for the story.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 275: YAAAAY but Also AHHHHH

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor was all “I’M FIGHTING TOMURA AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME” and set everything on fire. Unlike SOME people, however, it turns out fire is NOT Tomura’s weakness, so he basically just shrugged it off. But before things could progress any further, AFO was all “psst, go get One for All” and Tomura was all “? One for All?” and Endeavor was all “?? One for All?” and Deku and Kacchan, who were listening in on their earpieces, were all “!!!” Having thus realized that Tomura was targeting him, Deku sped off to lead him somewhere away from the civilians... accompanied by his good friend Bakugou “274 chapters of character development have all been leading up to this” Katsuki. Because like hell are you going to have an EPIC BATTLE with the FINAL VILLAIN without him, you damn nerd. Who’s he going to heroically sacrifice himself for if you’re not there?? Hahh!?

Today on BnHA: Deku and Kacchan fly off to battle Tomura after confusing Endeavor into giving them his location (which wasn’t very hard lmao). En route, Deku finally thinks to ask Kacchan why he’s tagging along, and Kacchan is all “DON’T GET ME WRONG, IT’S JUST BECAUSE I WANT REVENGE ON TOMURA, AND DEFINITELY NOT BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU AT ALL, HOW DARE YOU, WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT”, which is super convincing and didn’t make me roll my eyes at all. Anyways so then Tomura shows up and is all “EYO TIME TO KILL YOU NOW” and Deku and Kacchan are all “OH SFFKDFK”, but fortunately Gran shows up to save them in the nick of time, because BnHA is literally the only shounen manga in which grown-ups will see kids trying to lead a battle and be like “lol wtf” and actually try to stop that shit instead of being all “what are your orders, children.” The chapter then ends with the heroes doing EXACTLY WHAT THEY SHOULD BE DOING??Namely, having the guy who can TURN OFF QUIRKS battle the guy with the ultimate death quirk! I’m so proud. But also I swear to god, if Tomura so much as breathes suspiciously in his direction...!! What the fuck. HORIKOSHI.

y’all what in the fresh hell is this bs

not yet there isn’t son but if you keep trolling like this I can give your nervous system something to actually be nervous about

anyway. this was his comment from last week’s issue of Jump, and I have absolutely no idea what it’s referring to, is the fun part! did he cry because of something he was working on in a chapter that’s coming up? or is he just tired from a combination of stressful mangaka schedule + 2020 in general?? or hell, for all I know he just recently watched Titanic or some shit

(ETA: KILLING AIZAWA SHOUTA WOULDN’T MAKE SOMEONE CRY OUT OF JOY, THOUGH. RIGHT?!)

anyways I guess it’s time to read and see if I feel like sadly happily crying for two hours afterward

-- oh shit I just realized there are two scanlations out for this?? one from readjump.com, and one from readheroacademia.com. lol now what. uhhh

lulzes. I guess I’ll go with RHA for now and keep checking back to RJ after each page and I’ll go with whichever translation I liked better

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, OUR MILLENNIAL VILLAIN

or would he actually be gen z. he was already in his twenties when this manga started like six years ago, so I’m going with millennial. but on the cusp though I guess. anyway, he plays video games though is the point

and I see he’s already decided to contradict me and my inane speculations not two panels in! I GUESS I AM JUST A FOOL. that’s really interesting though. I wonder if it’s just Monoma’s quirk that doesn’t take the accumulated “save data” from the people he copies from, then? guh. how many of my AFO/OFA theory notes do I have to scrap now

and there’s a little quirk blurb about Search, which is fairly useless given that we already know how it works (actually in even greater detail than shown here), but at least it comes with a cute little picture of Ragdoll in her hero costume, to make us all sad and stuff

so anyways Tomura who are you looking at?? this was a topic of some contention last week! also why were you only seeing nine people then. Ragdoll had seen everyone in 1-A along with Aizawa and her fellow Pussycats at a minimum, so is this confirmation that Tora and Mandalay and Pixie-Bob are all really dead then, because I CAN AND WILL HUNT DOWN A MAN AND MAKE HIM CRY FOR A GOOD DEAL LONGER THAN TWO HOURS IF THAT’S REALLY THE CASE. was Kouta not traumatized enough already?? LET’S JUST ORPHAN HIM AGAIN WHY NOT THAT’S A GOOD PLAN

(ETA: I really hate that we are still up in the air regarding this? and I mean, sure, why not, we only had like a dozen lady heroes to begin with, so why not just kill off two more of them, offscreen, in one fell swoop??)

WHAT IS A SHAME. TOMURA. DAMN IT

(ETA: ??)

-- well hello there

OR MAYBE I WAS NOT A FOOL AT ALL?? lol guys. please do not tell me my hobo husband is flying his vengeful ass over to where Tomura all heedless of the danger because I really do not need that just yet. CAN MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS PLEASE FUCKING TAKE TURNS BEING IN TERRIBLE DANGER INSTEAD OF ALL AT ONCE

sob we’re cutting back to Endeavor and Deku and Kacchan. ACTUALLY THAT’S GOOD THOUGH why am I complaining. I’m just gonna have to get used to the fact that no one is going to truly be safe for the next god knows however many chapters, and make my peace with that. hahaha. yeah right

lmao Deku. “HEY WHAT’S UP, ME AND MY FELLOW CHILD HERE ARE GONNA LURE SHIGARAKI TOWARDS US, BUT WE’LL EXPLAIN OUR REASONS FOR THAT LATER. IF YOU SEE HIM MAKING ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS PLEASE INFORM US SO AS TO AID US IN THIS PLAN.” Endeavor if you just go along with this I will lose so much respect for you lmao

lol he is trying to argue a bit but then he’s suddenly cutting off. so in hindsight I don’t know why I said “lol”, really. I’M JUST NERVOUS OKAY

btw in the other translation Deku straight up asks if Endeavor can redirect Tomura towards them. “sure no problem bucko, let me just tell the walking apocalypse exactly where he can find you, my two sixteen-year-old interns whose safety I am responsible for. I was just thinking to myself that I hadn’t had my fill of crazy ill-thought-out plans with a high risk of death today”

holy --

okay I have not the SLIGHTEST clue what’s going on here, even after analyzing both scans, except that someone, probably Tomura, either just went CRONCH or just GOT cronched just now lmao. let us read on to find out who was cronched and who did the cronching

the rest of this page is not really much more helpful

but I am becoming increasingly suspicious that those were in fact Tomura’s new, improved and ridiculously thicc legs doing the cronching as he did a Marvel Superhero Landing from the most RIDICULOUS ANGLE POSSIBLE

LMAO NOW WHAT

so he just cronched onto the ground and fooshed Endeavor and then went flying off again huh

LMAO AT EVERYTHINNNNNG

THANK YOU ENJI. HE’LL LURE HIM AWAY. lols WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL THEM WHICH WAY HE WAS HEADED YOU BOOB

he really just fucking hung up on him afterwards too. just, “got it thanks amigo just leave everything to me, [CLICK]”

OH MY GOD

BECAUSE WE CAN’T HAVE ANYONE ELSE CONVENIENTLY INTERFERING WHEN YOU HAVE YOUR LITTLE THROWDOWN OF DESTINY HUH. THAT WOULD JUST BE TERRIBLE

-- oh shit

that’s just. a SLIGHT change in meaning, there. silly me. thinking “get rid of them” meant “get rid of their communications as opposed to FUCKING KILLING THE ONE YOU’RE NOT ACTUALLY AFTER. hmm. well that’s not good

(ETA: never have I been so happy that a translation was wrong lmao.)

so now Endeavor’s shouting at everyone else that Tomura is heading southwest and that he has “SUPER REGENARTION” (sic) and is no longer THE SAME THUG HE WAS BEFORE and yeah RHA you have officially won me over, flaws and all. listen up boyos. this ain’t your granddaddy’s Shigaraki Tomura. this one regenars

also “that damn kid...” like why the hell did my son have to go and befriend two protagonists. why is this my life now

AHAHAHAHA

“MIDORIYA IS IN DANGER...!!” STORY OF THIS MANGA. AHAHA. KACCHAN HE’S COMING. HE’S COMING, KACCHAN. for you two. someone please help me I am both terrified and thrilled beyond all recognition and my body doesn’t know how to handle the conflicting emotions. honestly crying for two hours is starting to sound more and more appealing

oh my god I forgot they didn’t know, though

fff. Kacchan especially didn’t know, because unlike Deku he doesn’t have random bits of other people’s souls going “heyyyyyyy... transcendent being at 12 o’clock.” what has this kid so bravely and stupidly gone and gotten himself into

look at them go

damn Deku can you really not float yet?? that’s going to be really inconvenient if that’s the case

(ETA: my boy really would have just straight up died. he would have died so hard.)

OH MY GOD

NOW YOU WANT TO ASK HIM LMAOOOO. well it’s because of all the character development!! if you must know

THAT’S NOT AN ANSWER BLASTY MCANGERTY

you’re not as smooth as you think you are, you know. we all know why you actually followed him. but fine, be that way

okay so now he’s giving a real-er answer though

“understand the situation”, the situation being that your best friend and his secret-trump-card-in-the-battle-against-evil quirk were being targeted by the guy who just obliterated this entire city. got it. you put it quite succinctly

and Deku is all

and Kacchan is all

love how he throws that protagonist crack in there too. because we all know that Deku absolutely is the protagonist lol, and so if that part’s obviously not true, we can make some inferences about the rest of what he’s saying too now can’t we

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh snap

YOU SURE DO!! and he does with you too!! :) it’s gonna be one big happy reunion! :) :) :) oh gosh golly

OH NO KATSUKI WHAT ARE YOU DOING

what are you doing to me, I should clarify. please be considerate of my feelings. you can’t just DUMP sudden Kacchan Kamino Angst on me without any warning, you have to let me know in advance so that I can buy some thank you cards

THERE’S MOREEEEE???

YOU REMEMBER TOO, DON’T YOU DEKU. HE WAS ALL CRYING AND STUFF. IT WAS A LOT. IT’S POSSIBLE THAT I HAVE NEVER PERSONALLY GOTTEN OVER IT

AND IT LOOKS LIKE HE NEVER QUITE GOT OVER IT EITHER

:’)

by the way in the other translation he says “I’ll make up for what I did that day.” so yeah. BOOM. right to the heart. shot of me collapsing to the ground in slow motion

but it’s interesting though that he still can’t admit to having selfless motives yet! even after everything he’s been through and all his character growth! he’s still all GET RID OF THE REFERENCES TO ME CARING ABOUT YOU, WE CAN’T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE HAVE FEELINGS

but even his Kamino feels are notably first and foremost about him feeling responsible for failing All Might. so yeah, buddy. where does that leave you? even your feeble excuses are still rooted in selflessness, JUST GIVE IN AND ADMIT YOU’VE BEEN SECRETLY GIVING A SHIT BEHIND EVERYONE’S BACK. and honestly he might be better off at this point if he didn’t! BUT HE DOES. and that’s that

anyways Deku I sure hope you and your big hero brain can see right through this nonsense

god. you’re both in so much danger though, do you even have any idea?! of course you fucking don’t. god

HELLO BAKUGOU NARRATION!?!

well that’s one hell of a rare sight!! all fresh and chock full of shrewd observations about his best rival’s current skillset. ah what a time we’re living in

ooooh

gonna hold off commentary until I read the next part of this lol

OOOOOH

goddamn. Horikoshi really went off this week. just a whole chapter’s worth of Stuff Makeste Really Likes, goddamn is it my birthday or what

so do you guys think he’ll be able to keep pace all the way up to 100%? I can see this part being interpreted in two totally different ways if I’m being honest. on the one hand we have the more pessimistic (some would say realistic) view that Bakugou is desperately trying to convince himself that he’s still on the same level as the rival he so desperately wants to surpass, but with the sinking feeling that he’s actually not going to be able to keep up for much longer. and then on the other side of the coin we have the more glass-half-full perspective that he actually is capable of keeping up with him right to the bitter end. that even as Deku grows stronger, he’ll continue to push himself and use that as motivation to keep getting stronger too. that Deku isn’t out of reach; that his goal isn’t out of reach

and I’m not completely sure which way this is leaning myself! I personally would like to lean more towards the second interpretation, because y’all know I love me some rivals. and also because imo one of the most commendable things about Bakugou’s development has been how he hasn’t once been envious of Deku’s strength or of his position as All Might’s chosen heir since he learned about OFA. he hasn’t once shown any kind of resentment towards him for it, or doubted whether or not he deserves it. and as minor a detail as that may seem to some people, I cherish it. and I don’t want that to change! but I guess we shall see

so now we’re getting the clearest shot we’ve had yet of the new AFO holes in Tomura’s palms as he gets ready to combine some more quirks. also! more information about the quirks he has and is using! fucking thank you, where was this last week

so “radio waves” is clearly going to be used here to disrupt the heroes’ communication, which is a shame for them, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved given the alternative! the RJ translation is clearly just a hot mess lol. but I still adore that one “I’ll make up for what I did” line though

WOW

THE DISRESPECT. LOL DID YOU JUST FUCKING KILL HIS ASS

(ETA: I just realized he’s nowhere to be found after this, though, so... did he?? or is he now lying somewhere now all wounded and waiting to be found by one, or, dare I say, two of his sons? ...)

LKDFJLSDKGHOSIDGHOISDflkwejfdfsdklggdflgnfdlgndakgalkgldfdfkwlfwiowelKLDSGKSL:DKGJL:DKFM?G?SGSDLKG?SDFSDF??LKJ@L!

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

even if you ask him nicely??! somehow I just can’t help feeling that he probably shouldn’t oblige you, though!?!?!

anyways. THAT AIN’T SAFE. and what the hell is happening in that bottom left corner ahhhhhh

AHHHHHHH

GRAN DM ME YOUR ADDRESS I WANT TO SEND YOU SOME FLOWERS AND A BASKET OF FRUIT AND CRACKERS AND SOME LITTLE CHEESES AND SAUSAGES

jesus christ it completely slipped my mind that there was one other person currently in the vicinity who knows about OFA. my good sir, maybe you would like to introduce these two dunderfucks to the concept of a “plan.” and maybe you can also find the single shared braincell they apparently dropped and lost somewhere back there in all the city rubble

oh fuck me

(ETA: does Kacchan look so rattled here because he is being lectured, or because he just saw a vision of his own death and is now having it explained to him just how close he came to being decomposed. you decide! I’ll just sit here and bask in the angst.)

fuck. main character gods were really working overtime here. anyways so how are you all doing this fine Friday afternoon. me, I’m just sitting here wrangling with the knowledge that Tomura’s quirk is even deadlier than I realized, and that my two little boys came within inches of dying horrible deaths just now. but anyways it’s not as humid today as it was yesterday so that’s really nice

anyways so now Gran is continuing to lecture the mayor of Dumb Ideas Town here, along with his friend the deputy mayor who still thinks he outranks the actual mayor

SHH NOW AND LISTEN TO YOUR GRANDPA

-- ohhhh shit son are they mounting a counterattack?? don’t tell me!!

also is Gran seriously faster than Tomura. that makes no fucking sense, and yet these two are only alive now because of it so I’M SURE NOT GONNA QUESTION IT

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

AND IS AIZAWA ON HER BACK THOUGH???

AHAHHAHAHAHAHA

AH, BUT IT AIN’T GONNA WORK THOUGH, IS IT!!! AHAHAHA YESSSSSS

excellent question sir. the short answer is “they’re idiots”, and the long answer is just a longer version of “they’re idiots” but with some more complicated BakuDeku feels mixed in. I’ll tell you all about it if you just promise me that you’ll actually live through this, all right?

“is he after the two of them?” listen boy if you don’t finally put two and two together after this I’m gonna be fucking beside myself lol. (though honestly, Deku and Kacchan have been targeted by the League so many other times already that he might just simply accept “yeah they’re after them again” without any further explanation)

my dear gentlefolk would you fucking look at how the lord has blessed us on this day

Aizawa Fucking Shouta and the motherfucking dramatic intro to end all dramatic intros. finally this man gets his moment

someone please teach me how to cast a force field. teach me how to reach into the manga and slap this man and tell him to stop talking about how everyone’s noble sacrifices to protect him and his eraser quirk have led him to this day and to this one encounter. my guy. my fucking dude. THERE HAD BETTER BE SUBSEQUENT ENCOUNTERS AFTER THIS

NOOOOOOOOOOOO

ISN’T HE THOUGH??? Tomura I love you sweetie but you better BACK THE FUCK. OFF

well FINE THEN! BE THAT WAY. it’s not like my life revolves around you and your stupid manga anyway!! it’s not like I’m obsessed with it or anything!! I have other hobbies!! well I actually do have other hobbies, so that doesn’t really work as sarcasm, so let’s see though. maybe something more like, “this isn’t by far my favorite out of all my hobbies!!” I don’t spend 80-90% of my free time on any given day either actively or passively daydreaming about this series and writing essays in my head and reading fanfic and scrolling through art on tumblr!! etc.!! whatever!! enjoy your break!! have fun living your life!!

please don’t kill Aizawa

[purple-sea-dragon]

yet another chapter of Cold For Years because i’m a weak bitch with no self control

yeah you read the post title you know what this is about

so chapter two is here!! man in glass part two inspired me to crank out another three thousand words or so. kabert out here giving the gays everything they want

here’s the ao3 link if you want to read it over there with all the tag warnings

Jet knows, in the grand scheme of things, very little about Juno Steel.

He knows the lady is thirty nine years old, and that before he joined up with Buddy’s family he had never before left Mars, and that he is light enough that Jet can pick him up like a sac of stolen creds. He knows that Juno, for a brief period, worked for Ramses O’Flaherty, and that the politician had given him one of the most expensive and invasive cybernetic prosthetic eyes on the market, and because he ripped that eye out of Juno’s head Jet knows that Juno had a twin brother named Benzaiten that had died when the two of them were just nineteen. Jet knows that Juno is a former cop, that he is an above average detective with the ear of almost every socialite in Hyperion city, and that he does not like tea, but he likes it more than being uninformed or the idea of killing another person. He knows quite a bit about how much Juno detests the idea of killing another human being. Juno wears his feelings on his face and his shoulders and his hands, worn thin through years of exposure.

Juno does not like that he wears his feelings, for all that he cannot help doing so. Jet knows this, too.

This smaller version of Juno wears his own identity like a caricature of the lady Jet has grown to respect. He’s snappish and vicious and somehow also painfully uncertain and withdrawn like a shadow of himself, quiet and nervous in a way Jet didn’t know Juno had the capacity to be, in a way that Jet doesn’t like. Their Juno, the thirty-nine year old one, knows how to take up space with his whole personality, and cry because he’s feeling so strongly for another person, and trade quips like he used to be able to trade blaster fire. He is gruff, but kind, in his way. He likes clever turns of phrase and solving puzzles and helping just because he can, even though he pretends not to. He is demanding and loud and settled in himself in a way that Jet admires, even if it is occasionally inconvenient.

He watches Juno from the counter as the eight-year-old finishes his mug of whiskey and somehow manages to hover slightly in Rita’s shadow, even as he’s sitting down. His eyesight isn’t what it used to be but if he squints hard enough, he can make out the individual bones in Juno’s wrists, and the finger-deep dips in his collarbones where there should be more of him, and the tiny divots of burned, glassy tissue where someone has put out almost an entire pack of cigarettes on his shoulder blades. His sweater is hanging off of one shoulder, Jet realizes. Eight year old Juno is significantly smaller than his usual counterpart. Are children supposed to be that small? Jet has very limited knowledge about children. It has been many decades since he was even close to being one himself. He thinks again about his ability to manhandle an adult Juno like a doll and wonders if it is a characteristic the detective will ever grow out of.

“-is that alright, Juno?” Buddy is talking. Jet gives himself the smallest of shakes, bringing himself back to the present.

“Yeah, I guess,” is the sullen reply, punctuated by another gulp of alcohol and a long, weighted pause. “I don’t think it’s smart, though.” Small Juno has the slightest bit of a lisp. Every ‘s’ sound he makes comes out with a very soft ‘th’. 

“Oh?” Buddy quirks her eyebrow. It’s the one hidden by her bangs, so the effect isn’t quite as dramatic as it could have been. “Whatever do you mean, darling?”

Juno shrugs. “Do you know anything about the pyramid other than it’s worth a lot of money and it made me tiny after I touched it?”

“Some,” Buddy admits. “Basic mythology, it’s role in ancient Venusian society. But not as much as I would like, in this current situation.”

Juno nods decisively. “How do you know that if I touch it again it isn’t gonna steal another thirty one years from me and wipe me out of existence completely?”

That’s a valid question, and not one Jet would like to consider at length. The idea of Juno dying is upsetting, to say the least. It appears that the rest of the crew feels the same way, based on the abrupt silence that descends upon all of them. Rita looks a second away from crying, and Ransom doesn’t look far behind her. Vespa looks, for the first time, visibly not upset, which says quite a bit about how upset she actually is.

“We do not know what will happen if Juno regains contact with the artifact,” Jet speaks for the first time since Vespa returned to the kitchen with Juno in tow and this family meeting commenced. “Therefore, we should conduct further research into this matter to see if we can uncover any hidden knowledge. I also believe we should keep Juno away from the pyramid until we are certain of its function.”

“I agree with Jet,” Vespa rasps. “Better safe than sorry.”

He catches Juno’s eye as the child is glancing between them all, giving him a small nod. Juno shrinks into himself the tiniest bit, turning back towards the table and curling even tighter around his empty mug like a cloud of nervous gas around a black hole.

Jet remembers the tears of the medbay and the fear in Juno’s voice as he spoke about his mother, thinks about the decades-long gaps in his knowledge and reminds himself that, in the grand scheme of things, he knows very little about Juno Steel.

It’s a well worn thought, at this point. The sting at accompanies it is profoundly new.

#

Juno likes familiarity.

He’s a simple gal, he thinks. He likes knowing what all his options are in every given situation, what the rules and expectations are, and how likely he is to get in trouble for breaking them and to what degree. In Oldtown that’s not a problem; It’s better to ghost your dealer than have an argument about switching suppliers, the bars don’t card you if you look older than about six, if you’re gonna steal food it’s better to hit up a big store than a small one, and if you even look at a cop the wrong way you’ll end up in a ditch if your lucky and your family will if you aren’t. These are rules Juno knows by heart, ones he hasn’t had to think about since Mama moved them all out to Oldtown and Mick and Sasha started looking after them.

Juno has to take a second and focus on anything that isn’t Mama, or Mick, or Benten. The feelings he knows are there are still just kind of nameless and amorphous and hovering on the edge of his thoughts. He knows if he gives them time to take shape they’ll be too big to come out of for a while, and he can’t do that while he’s here, on this spaceship, and he doesn’t know the rules. The Carte Blanche is so different from Oldtown that Juno has no idea if he’s going to be able to keep track of them all, or how often he’s going to mess up and how bad.

Did he have responsibilities on the ship? He must have, right? Nobody gets to just hang out on a spaceship and not contribute, he doesn’t think, not unless they have a whole bunch of money. Does he still have to do his thirty-nine year old jobs even though he’s eight? Are they gonna show him how to do them or does he just have to figure it out? Unless they just want him to stay out of the way, in which case he wouldn’t blame them. He’s probably a lot less useful as an eight year old. Should he leave the room if someone comes in to do something? Which rooms are okay for him to be in? Everything looks so different from all the buildings he’s been in before he doesn’t know what he should and shouldn’t touch. Just the thought of messing up something important because he couldn’t keep his stupid hands to himself is making him tremble a little. His fingers clench around the now-empty mug that Miss Vespa had given him in the infirmary. He doesn’t know how she knew he was craving a drink, but he’s not going to say anything. Talking about it might mean he doesn’t get anymore. Fuck. Alcohol is expensive, why would they give him any in the first place? Do they have different rules about what food is? Miss Vespa gave him juice in the med bay- do space pirates eat food, or do they only have drinks? Can he get food if they do have some? Does he have to get his own food? When is he allowed to eat? Is he allowed to eat? Are they the kind of people that will tell him he’s not allowed to eat but let him get away with if he can sneak it successfully, like Mrs. Mendoza in second grade computer class, or are they the kind of people that will beat his ass to martian dust if they notice something is missing? Mister Bartane who lives next to Sasha is like that, and they have to run away from him a lot when he gets it into his head that one of them has snuck into his yard and taken something. He’s got bony knuckles and he knows how to use them, and they’re well acquainted with Juno’s ribcage.

Juno needs to stop thinking before his mind goes to a bad place and he shuts down again. He already did that once today, two times would be nigh-unbearable. He’s already embarrassed enough about that, he doesn’t want to make anybody any more annoyed than they must already be by the fact that he messed up and made himself tiny.

They’re all still sitting in the kitchen, long after their “family meeting”, as Miss Buddy calls it, is over. Miss Buddy, he knows, is in charge because she’s the captain. That alone is enough to make Juno wary of her. A title means authority means power means pain. She’s very tall and very pretty and she calls him “Darling”, but she calls everyone darling. Nothing about her makes Juno feel safe. Juno thinks that he shouldn’t touch her, or her stuff, or anything that looks important, because she might get mad at him and shove him out of an airlock. That’s something space pirates do, right? When he can bring himself to look up even a little bit, his eyes catch the way the lights glint off her manicure, a bright carnelian red.

He thinks about clawed, painted fingers and cigarette smoke and decides that today has been too much already, and that he very much would like to get out of here while nobody is trying to stop him.

He sets his mug on the table and shuffles forward until he can hop off the edge of the chair, pushing it in with both hands and then taking the mug to the sink. He can feel eyes on him as he stands on his tip-toes to reach over the counter, and pretends he doesn’t. He keeps his gaze on the floor, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, especially Mister Jet, as he shuffles back to the table.

Mister Jet is another person Juno thinks he’s not going to touch or talk to or look at if he can help it. He’s just- he’s very big. He’s so large that there might not be enough room for Juno in any room that Mister Jet is also in. He’s very tall and he has big, rough hands that look like they could get a real good grip on any part of Juno he pleased. Juno remembers the way Mister Jet had picked him up in that fancy gold room with one hand and then threw them both out of a very high window into a big green car that Mister Peter was driving, and the way he had loomed over him in the med bay, and decides very quickly that he doesn’t want Mister Jet to touch him ever again thank you very much.

He reaches out and catches the end of Miss Rita’s sleeve, giving it a little tug to get her attention. She turns and smiles at him. “What’s up, Little Mistah Steel?”

“‘M tired,” he mumbles, eyes still on the floor. She hums.

“You wanna go to your room?” she asks. He nods. She stands and holds out her hand to him, and after a moment he shakes his head and grabs the end of her sleeve again. Her shirt doesn’t have chip flavor powder all over it, after all. She doesn’t make a big stink about it, which he’s grateful for. If he got yelled at for something that small he doesn’t know if he could handle it right now. They exit the kitchen, and Juno turns over his shoulder to throw a shy wave at Miss Vespa, who smirks back at him.

The bedroom Miss Rita takes him to is about as big as the room he shares with Benten, but it’s filled with a lot less stuff, even though it’s just as messy. The walls are gunmetal gray like the rest of the ship, bare with the exception of a small mirror and a shelf above the bed. He can see a few sets of clothes in the open closet and almost all of his drawers are open in some form or another, but he��s too tired to sift through thirty one years worth of decisions he doesn’t remember making, so he lets Miss Rita lead him to the single bed pushed into the corner. He collapses on the already rumpled sheets, pulling one of the pillows over to cling to. It smells like laundry soap. Miss Rita tugs the covers over him, carding one hand through his hair. Just this once, he thinks that’s fine. He doesn’t want to look at her though, he feels bad enough having to bear the weight of everyone’s disappointment so early on when he knows it’s just gonna be worse later, so he just stares at the only closed door on the wall across from him. It’s probably a bathroom.

“If you need anything, you come get me okay?” she says, taking a step backwards towards the door. “I mean it, Juno. I don’t care what time it is.” He nods and gives her a very small thumbs up. She smiles that big, toothy grin of hers again and turns to head for the door. “Goodnight, Little Mista Steel. Sweet dreams!” She hits the light switch on her way out the door and the mechanism shut with a soft hiss, and then Juno is alone in the dark.

Finally, finally, he lets the feelings come, and shoves his face into the pillow as wave after wave of- god, something heavy settles in his chest, weighing him down like a big boulder, being eroded by screaming sandy wind in the middle of an unforgiving wasteland. Everything is wrong, everything about him and this situation and the world around him. How can anything be okay again? Benzaiten is dead. His baby brother is cold in a grave next to his Mom on a planet he never should have left a billion, billion miles away from where he is. Everything he knows is so far away it might as well not even exist anymore. How many days has it been, since Benten died? Juno thinks his older self probably knows, probably counts every birthday and holiday and every second Saturday and knows exactly how much of his life has been lived alone. That’s not the kind of thing he would forget. Not when the only person in the universe that actually matters is six feet under the rust, older and smarter and kinder and better than Juno will ever get to be, and still gone and never coming back. He lets the pillow absorb his tears, wishing he could smother himself but knowing it would be pointless. If thirty nine year old Juno hadn’t managed to do it, eight year old Juno didn’t have a chance in hell.

Without Benten’s comforting warmth at his back, it takes him a long, long time to fall asleep.

#

Rita wanders aimlessly towards the rec room, steps heavy and tired and feeling her age as this absolute mess of a day comes to a close. She collapses on the couch, reaching for the remote and flipping it between her fingers, not bothering to turn on the monitor. For once she doesn’t feel like watching a stream, at least not alone, and she doesn’t think anyone else is in the right headspace to watch “Comet Island Adventure 4: The Leviathan Has a Bomb Now and Demands to be Taken Seriously”.

Little Mistah Steel is completely different at eight years old than he was at twenty three, and it’s a different that makes Rita sick to her stomach. At least when Juno was an adult he had some coping mechanisms, even if they weren’t in the same star system as healthy or safe. But baby Juno is just- small. Not just physically, either. Small in a way he hasn’t been for years, like he’s afraid to take up space and make decisions and ask for anything. Small like he doesn’t think he deserves anything. Small like he was after Diamond, but worse now because he’s a child, he’s a baby, and she’s the one that did this to him. She’s the one that sat down and stared him down in both of his eyes and told him that his brother is dead and his mother is responsible and that his dreams of being a police officer don’t work out and that his life is nothing like he ever wanted it to be.

She doesn’t realize she’s shaking until Jet is there on the couch next to her, taking the remote from her trembling hands and turning on a random stream. He settles in next to her, close enough that she can feel his warmth but far enough away that she could lean away and it wouldn’t be a big deal. She feels a thread of warmth for her large friend, letting herself fall sideways until she collides gently with his arm.

“Are you alright, Rita?”

She sighs. “Yeah. No. Yeah.” He moves his arms out from under her head, moving it instead to wrap around the back of the couch. She rests her head on his ribcage instead.

“Those are conflicting answers.” His voice rumbles through the entire side of her head.

“This has been a pretty conflict filled day, Mistah Jet,” she shrugs, letting her eyes watch the stream but not putting any real effort into paying attention to it. “I had to tell Little Mistah Steel about a lot of real terrible stuff that happened to him today, and I know it hurt him pretty bad to hear. I don’t think he’s okay, and if he’s not okay I can’t be okay, y’know?”

Jet nods. “I understand. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah,” she mumbles. “Not tonight. I just want everything to go back to normal and I want Juno to be better again.” She lets out a little huff of air that could be a laugh but probably isn’t. “None of you except maybe Mistah Ransom know how bad Mistah Steel was, before he lost his eye for the first time. The amount of progress he made in the last year is- gosh, Mistah Jet, it makes me wanna cry just thinkin’ about it. He’s a completely different person. He apologizes for thing now, when he’s made a mistake. He stopped drinking in the office, after that debacle in Newtown. He even talked once about thinkin’ about goin’ to a professional for his issues, which is more than he ever did in all the years I’ve known him.” She sniffs, wipes away a tear and disguises it by tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “And now all of that is gone, and he might not ever get it back, and things were just starting to turn around for him. It ain’t fair!”

“Juno will be fine,” Jet says, patting her shoulder. “All of us are determined to return him to his correct state. We will resolve this issue eventually, and in the meantime we will make sure that Juno is safe and as happy as we can make him. Everything is going to be fine.”

“I sure hope so, Mistah Jet,” Rita says, finally settling completely into the couch and focusing on the stream, letting it carry her thoughts away from the terrible, terrible day they’ve all had.

Unseen in the doorway, Peter Ransom turns and pads silently down hall back towards his room.

[vengeancedemons]

devil hit his second stride // self para (pt 1)

summary: In Hell, Robbie runs into a familiar face who convinces him to stop wallowing in self pity and make a move to stop his uncle from ripping his life to shreds. trigger warnings: hell, death, mentions of violence  featuring: robbie reyes, phil coulson, mentions of elias morrow, gabriel reyes, daisy johnson ( @daisyquakes ), and jessica jones ( @goddamndumbass ) word count: 4320 no one SAY ANYTHING

There were a lot of metaphors about Hell, a lot of famous quotes invoking the word. Robbie had read up on them after his death and subsequent resurrection, studied them as if they might somehow hold answers to what happened to him. Churchill famously instructed those who were going through Hell to keep going. Twain once quipped that one should go to Heaven for the climate, but Hell for the company. Sartre claimed that Hell was other people. Robbie had gathered a whole collection of quips and quotes, a whole world of things writers and politicians and activists said were Hell, because he’d known the deal he’d made to save his own life only had one end result and he’d wanted to be prepared. He’d been an idiot, in that regard. 

There was no preparing for Hell.

There was no making it easier. You couldn’t “keep going,” no matter how easy Churchill made it sound. You didn’t enjoy the company the way Twain joked that you might. The other people Sartre had feared were just as lost, just as tortured, just as absorbed in the terribleness of it all as you were. No metaphor Robbie had come across had managed to do justice to the real thing. Hell was Hell. There was no other way of describing it, no way of putting it into terms the average person would understand. You either knew it or you didn’t. You’d either been there or you couldn’t possibly imagine it. And Robbie could imagine it well. 

It was different, this time around. The last time (the last two times, rather), he’d at least gone out on his own terms. He’d chosen to exit stage left with Eli’s shoulders gripped in his hands. He decided to take the Darkhold back to where it belonged even if that meant he’d wind up where he belonged, too. And the people he’d cared about hadn’t been left in the best positions, but at least he’d known they’d be okay. He’d known Daisy would look out for Gabe, had known that Coulson would keep an eye on the SHIELD agents he’d begrudgingly come to tolerate. There hadn’t been an awful lot to fear.

This time was different.

With Eli running around in Robbie’s skin, there was no overselling the shitstorm that was waiting for the people he cared for. Daisy, who’d taken up residence on his couch the last few months, would be a burden Eli wouldn’t want to put up with. Jessica, who was almost a friend as much as someone you’d once nearly plowed over with your car could hope to be, would be an inconvenience his uncle wouldn’t want to deal with. And Gabe… It was too much to hope that Eli would leave Gabe out of things. It was too much to wish that his brother might remain blissfully ignorant in L.A. while their uncle wreaked havoc in New York. Whatever Eli had planned, Gabe would undoubtedly be caught in the crossfire the same way he had the night of that street race, when the Fifth Street gang saw Eli’s car and open fired with no regard for who was actually inside. And Robbie was powerless to stop any of it.

Shit, he was worse than powerless. The last time he’d been in Hell, he’d at least had the limited protection of the Rider keeping him out of the worst of it. It meant giving up control more often than not, but it made him relatively difficult to harm. Just like on Earth, the Rider had protected Robbie from damage in Hell. He’d made sure Robbie won most of the fights he got into, ensured that anyone who fucked with them had a generally bad day. Eli made sure Robbie was without that protection this go around, and that must have been intentional in more ways than one. His uncle had wanted the power of the Ghost Rider, beyond shadow of a doubt… but he’d also wanted to make sure Robbie was without it. And he’d absolutely succeeded in that.

You couldn’t die in Hell. Robbie figured that out his very first day, when he’d looked down at his chest to see a blade sticking out of it, rusted and bloody. You felt every ounce of pain dealt out to you, felt the way your heart tore itself to shreds as it beat around metal, felt your lungs fill up with blood and dust until there was no room left to breathe, but you couldn’t die. It was like one of the shitty video games Gabe used to play --- you bled, you ached, you faded away, and you popped back up someplace else to do it all again. Death would have been far easier. Anything would have been easier. Everyone there knew it.

It was why he’d also learned another important lesson his first Rider-less day in Hell. He’d learned about a rumor, a legend that desperate souls accepted as truth because there had to be some kind of end to all of this. It was a Fifth Street goon who’d blurted it out to him, a man terrified of Robbie who’d never even met the Rider. (Robbie had taken care of plenty of gang members without the Devil making an appearance at all, in the early days. There had been so much anger and nowhere to put it. It was inevitable.) 

‘There’s a story,’ the man had said, practically blubbering at the mere sight of the man who had taken his life. ‘If you take out the guy who killed you down here, you get out. You get to move on.’ 

‘Move on to what?’ Robbie had demanded, but the man hadn’t known. All he had known, all he had heard was that removing the person responsible for your presence in Hell from its depths meant a ticket to someplace else. And everyone figured that nothing could possibly be worse than this. 

So they fought. They beat each other to death only to yield no result when the person they were trying so desperately to remove appeared again out of their reach, breathing oxygenless through deceased lungs. It was utterly pointless and they knew it, but it was the only thing they knew how to do. It was the Fifth Street member who’d told him the legend that taught Robbie what happened when you died in Hell, putting a sword through his back the moment he turned away and shrugging unapologetically when Robbie turned back to him. ‘I just had to try it,’ the man said, ‘just once.’ And the expression on his face made it clear that whatever he’d hoped would happen wasn’t happening and Robbie had died and come back for what wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Robbie didn’t know if the legend had a grain of truth to it. For him, he didn’t guess it mattered much either way. He couldn’t get rid of the person responsible for sending him to Hell, and it wasn’t because his uncle was out of reach. No, Robbie couldn’t get rid of the guy responsible for his current predicament because it wasn’t Eli at all. The only person Robbie had to blame for his presence in the underworld was Robbie. He was the one who sold his soul to the Devil for a prize he’d already won. He was the one who’d been clueless to the fact that his uncle was being driven mad right in front of his eyes. He was the one arrogant enough to believe he could make a quick day trip to Hell and pluck a soul from damnation without facing any kind of consequence. The worst person in Robbie’s life, the one responsible for every goddamn shitshow he was a part of, had always lived in the fucking mirror. He’d always known that.

And so, with no way of knowing what was going on up above and no hope of finding his way out of Hell any time soon, he focused on survival. He focused on dying as little as possible, on staying away from the Fifth Street gang members he’d gifted with all-expense-paid tickets to Hell and avoiding Lucy Bauer and her gaggle of scientists whose ghosts he’d torn from their places on Earth and keeping distance between himself and all the trash he’d taken out since the Rider brought him back from the dead. Some days, he did okay. Some days, he bled out a hundred times an hour. It was a matter of luck more than anything else. 

Today, he was doing all right. The safe spot he’d found would be burned by tomorrow --- news of people’s whereabouts traveled quickly in Hell, especially when the person in question was one that large groups of souls were seeking out --- but for the moment, his feet were on solid ground and his blood wasn’t spilling from his veins. He didn’t know how long he’d been here. Time moved differently in Hell, crawled by one moment and sped up the next. His first go-round, he’d tried to keep count. He’d tallied up what he’d thought might have been days in his head, counted them into months and years. By his count, he’d been in Hell nearly a hundred years then, but when he got back to Earth he’d found only months had passed. He hadn’t bothered counting when he brought the Darkhold back. His high school teachers might have frequently assigned him the title of slow learner, but he could take a lesson when it was obvious and this one was. Time in Hell was relative. 

And there was no sense counting it up when you knew it wasn’t going to end.

It was a realization he’d come to rather quickly, after Eli tossed him out. He went from fighting a battle in the back of his own mind to staring out at all-too-familiar fiery slopes, and he’d known in an instant that this was how things would be for him now. No one could be lucky enough to escape Hell three times, especially now that he didn’t have Ghost Rider’s powers to fall back on. This time, Robbie figured, he was here to stay. 

So he focused on the moment in front of him. He focused on the fact that, today, he wasn’t fighting off old enemies, wasn’t killing the same people over and over again or dying so many times that he barely had enough time to draw breath between one slaughter and the next. And he was wound tight and jumping at the slightest sound, but so was everyone. That was a side effect of Hell, and there was no shot at ever avoiding it. 

It was lucky, he supposed, that he stopped to look before putting the blade he’d stolen off an old New York City gang member through the chest of the person who walked up behind him. Most days, Robbie wouldn’t have bothered. After so long in Hell, he’d lost any hope that anyone he met wouldn’t strike him down where he stood. But this time… This time, the familiar face that greeted him wasn’t one of the gang members he’d taken out in New York or L.A. It wasn’t the ghost of some scientist who’d worked with his uncle, wasn’t a wannabe supervillain with a justified grudge. It was, perhaps, a man whose death Robbie was still responsible for, but not one who would kill him for it. 

Robbie’s shoulders dropped at the sight of him, grip slackening on the switchblade he’d been white-knuckling. He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing thickly before letting them slide back open to reveal that the figure was still there, still watching him with inquisitive eyes. They stayed like that for a moment, a pair of ghosts staring into eyes they’d thought they’d seen the last of, each waiting on the other to make the first move. Finally, Robbie shifted enough to make room for another body to sit on the ground beside him, and his newfound companion moved forward to take the silent invitation.

“I’d heard you were back,” Coulson said quietly. “Didn’t want to believe it.”

“Yeah, well,” Robbie sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face, “seems like I’ve got a hard time staying away.”

“Haven’t heard anything about the other guy popping back up,” Coulson prodded, and Robbie tasted bile in the back of his throat, which was stupid. There was no bile in his stomach, no food that could threaten to make its way back up. He hadn’t eaten since a slice of cold pizza Daisy left on the counter just a few hours before Eli made his presence known, and while he hadn’t been keeping track of the hours he knew there were a hell of a lot of them between now and then. 

“It’s just me this time,” he said, tasting ash in his mouth with the words, because Coulson would want to know why. He would want to know how, and if he asked, Robbie was going to tell him. Robbie would blurt out everything, everything, and while Coulson might not hold what happened to him after he let the Rider into his head against Robbie, he knew the man would never forgive him if anything happened to Daisy. And right now, in this moment? Robbie couldn’t promise that she was okay.

“Is it like what happened before?” Coulson pressed, because, in spite of his unassuming outward appearance, he was still a spy. He was still one of the best agents SHIELD had ever had, and Robbie was still a fairly shitty liar. “It went into someone else, like it did with Mack?”

Robbie couldn’t look at him. He kept his eyes down on his hands, on the stolen switchblade with blood rusting the metal. He couldn’t remember now if the blood was there when he got it or if he’d put it there himself. He didn’t think it made much of a difference. “Not exactly,” he replied after a long pause, because Coulson would read a silence just as easily as a lie. 

Another silence stretched between them, a canyon of stillness as Coulson looked at Robbie and Robbie looked anywhere else. “Robbie,” Coulson said, his voice somehow firm and gentle at the same time, and Robbie had never been the sort of person who held his heart on his sleeve but fuck, it took every ounce of strength in him not to cry. 

Coulson, he realized with the smallest ounce of hysteria in his thoughts, sounded like what he’d always figured a father might sound like. He was nothing like Alberto Reyes, who’d walked out long before Robbie had a clear picture of his face saved into memory. He was nothing like Elias Morrow, who’d been more than willing to send Robbie to Hell for his own selfish gain. Coulson was the closest thing Robbie had seen in his life to a decent goddamn father figure, and what had Robbie shown him in return? He’d gotten him sent to Hell.

He’d probably gotten Daisy killed. 

Robbie felt very cold all of a sudden, a shiver going down his spine. Eli said once that there was meaning to that, joked about it when Robbie was a child getting used to having an uncle where he’d once had a mother and father. That means someone is walking over the place where you’ll be buried, he’d said, feigning seriousness until Robbie’s eyes widened and he couldn’t hold back a laugh. Robbie always wondered if it was true. He wondered what his grave would look like now, if he’d have one. Was a grave yours if the body in it hadn’t belonged to you, in the end? Were you still a person if someone else was walking around in your skin? At what point did a man become a ghost?

“It was Eli,” he said, so sudden it surprised even himself. “It was… When you saw us, before, me and Daisy, Eli followed us out somehow. He hitched a ride inside my head. Rode around up there for months until he had the strength to…” Robbie trailed off, that phantom nausea tugging at his gut again, compelling him to expel food he hadn’t eaten from a body he didn’t have. “He kicked me out. He’s running around up there in my skin, with my face, with --- With the Rider in my head with him. And I don’t, I don’t know how to stop him. I don’t think I can stop him.”

The sea of information settled between them, and Robbie could swear he saw the words floating in the air, fading in and out of existence as Coulson processed it all. He didn’t know if the shock on the agent’s face was because of the tale he’d spun, the fact that it was more words than he’d probably ever heard Robbie say in one sitting, or some mixture of the two. The silence was a heavy one, a weight on his chest that he didn’t know how to breathe around. And he didn’t need to breathe down here, not when he was already dead, but he still felt as if he was suffocating. When he tore his eyes from the switchblade to risk a glance in Coulson’s direction, the man was looking at him with an unreadable expression and Robbie wondered if he might break his day-long streak of not being covered in his own blood. And god, he would have let him. If Coulson tried to take the knife from his hand and drive it through his fucking skull in that moment, Robbie would have let him. 

Finally, Coulson shifted, breaking the silence with the question Robbie had known was coming. “Does Daisy know?” And even though he’d known Coulson would ask, it was a punch to the goddamn gut. Robbie closed his eyes again, letting his head drop. He would have preferred the knife to the skull, he thought. He would have preferred anything else.

“I don’t know,” he replied, so quiet he wasn’t sure Coulson would be able to hear it. He wasn’t sure he wanted Coulson to hear it, wasn’t sure he wanted the other man to know. Robbie had failed Daisy, and he didn’t even know how deep that failure went. He didn’t even know if she was alive right now, didn’t know if Eli would try to fool her or if he’d kill her the moment she walked into the apartment. At one point, he might have liked to think he knew his uncle well enough to predict his next move, but now? Now, Robbie wasn’t sure he’d ever known Eli at all. He’d never taken Eli for a murderer, but he was one. He’d never taken Eli for a narcissist, but he’d nearly gotten his entire fucking family killed in order to pursue his own selfish goals.

He’d never believed Eli was capable of hurting him, but he’d sent him to Hell without a hint of hesitation. 

There was a sound off to the side, a quiet click of Coulson’s tongue as he mulled the new information over, and Robbie wondered if this was the part where the knife would slip from his hand to Coulson’s, if this was where he’d die and respawn someplace else, ready to die again. He braced for a blow that didn’t come, prepared for an imaginary hit. Instead, Coulson sighed. Robbie opened his eyes, glanced over at the man cautiously. Coulson was staring at him, studying him intently as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, deep in thought. Finally, he broke the silence with a question: “So what are you going to do about it?”

Robbie blinked, eyes wide as the words settled into his head. He opened his mouth and closed it. Once, twice, three times. Finally, he spoke, and the confusion was clear in his tone. “What?”

“What are you going to do about it?” Coulson repeated, and the words made just as little sense this time as they had before because what? Robbie was in Hell. He had no access to Earth, no way of knowing what was happening there, and certainly no way to stop it. He didn’t have a plan because he had no options. 

“What can I do about it?” He asked, incredulous. 

Coulson quirked a brow, looking so utterly unimpressed that Robbie had to run through his story again in his head, had to look for the parts he’d missed in his situation that made Coulson believe he had anything resembling options here. He came up short, again and again. If he had choices, he had no idea what they were. And still, Coulson looked like he was missing something obvious. 

Finally, the agent seemed to take pity on Robbie with a sigh, shaking his head. “Robbie,” he said patiently, sounding very much like a man preparing to explain something simple to a particularly stupid toddler, “your body is still your body. Isn’t it?”

“I… guess so?” Robbie wasn’t sure what he was getting at, didn’t know what this had to do with anything. His body was still his body, but it wasn’t accessible. It was up on Earth and he was down in Hell and it wasn’t like there was an express train he could take to get back to it.

“And it’s still alive,” Coulson pushed, and Robbie tilted his head to the side, still not understanding the relevance. 

“I don’t think it would do Eli much good to kill it,” he allowed, because that would really defeat the purpose of whatever Eli had planned. Besides, Robbie didn’t think the Rider would let his body die, even if Robbie wasn’t in it. The guy needed something to hitch a ride in, didn’t he?

“So your body is alive,” Coulson continued slowly, “and your soul is alive.”

“Is that what we are?” Robbie questioned. “Souls?” He’d never given it much thought before and, given Coulson’s expression, it wasn’t a conversation they had time for now, either. 

“I don’t think you understand the point,” Coulson said which, fair. Robbie definitely didn’t understand the point of whatever it was Coulson was getting at, but whose fault was that? Coulson was the one being a cryptic old bastard, as if SHIELD and its shitty secrecy was an important thing in Hell. Robbie sighed, shaking his head and motioning for Coulson to just come out and say whatever obvious thing he was missing. “If your soul is alive and your body is alive,” Coulson said, finally taking enough pity on Robbie to spell the damn thing out, “that means you’re alive, Robbie. You aren’t dead. You’re just lost.”

“I’m not lost,” Robbie argued, because he was nothing if not contrary. “I know exactly where I am. I’m in Hell, Coulson. What’s it matter if my body’s alive if I can’t get to it.” 

“Have you tried?”  Coulson sounded angry now and Robbie remembered that, while he sounded fatherly in the way none of the men in Robbie’s life ever had, he wasn’t Robbie’s father. He was a guy who’d found Robbie at a strange time in his life and offered him guidance he hadn’t known he’d needed, but he wasn’t his father. If Coulson was a father figure to anyone, it was the person up on Earth with the body he was demanding he try to find a way back to. Fathers, when they were decent, protected the people they cared for. And right now, for Coulson, that wasn’t Robbie.

It was Daisy. 

And Robbie got it. He really did. If it had been Gabe in trouble, he’d be angry too. He’d be chastising whoever he was with and demanding they do something, but what was there to be done? “People don’t just walk out of Hell, Coulson,” he snapped.

“Didn’t you do that?” Coulson retorted. “Multiple times?”

“Yeah, with a demon in my head and a chain that could open portals to other dimensions. You see either of those things laying around now?”

“What if I had a way?” 

Robbie’s head snapped up, and he searched Coulson’s face for any hint of humor and came up short. “You got a way out of Hell,” he repeated slowly, “and you… What? Waited ‘til now to bring it up?”

“I have a rumor,” Coulson amended, and that made more sense. Rumors were like currency down here. They passed from person to person, gained value where they went. Everyone was looking for an out of some kind or another, but no one had ever found one.

“Rumors are usually bullshit,” Robbie pointed out, looking back down to his switchblade and twirling it in his fingers absently. “Plenty of rumors about ways out, but I never heard of anybody actually making it. You know why that is?” He paused, though not long enough for Coulson to answer before he provided the answer all his own: “Because the rumors are fucking horseshit.” 

“Or because the wrong people are trying,” Coulson countered. “Look, this rumor says it’s a door. The only people who can pass through it are people who shouldn’t be here. Like, for example, someone living?” 

“Or a good man who didn’t earn his spot,” Robbie replied, the realization springing on him all at once. “Shit, Coulson, if this thing’s real…”

“We could both get out,” Coulson confirmed with a nod. Robbie sucked in a breath through his teeth, weighing their options. If it were just him with a shot to get out of Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d take it. The thought of getting his hopes up just to have them dashes was somehow worse than the idea of never trying at all. But if this could mean a second chance for Coulson, too…

Robbie looked up, a newfound determination in his eyes. “Well, shit,” he sighed, shaking his head. “What do we have to lose?”

[thatfanficstuff]

Shattered - Gabriel

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Warnings: grief over major character death, flangst (it ends happy. Trust me.)

A/N: This is for @girl-next-door-writes Disney Birthday Challenge. This is horribly late because she kindly gave me an extension when my world went to pot. The prompt is in bold below. Sorry it took me so long but I hope you like it!

***

You wandered through the bunker in the dark, well familiar with its layout by now. You didn’t sleep much lately, instead spending hours roaming through the rooms in your home. Occasionally you’d cook or read. Sometimes you even played one of Dean’s video games. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to sleep. Hell, you longed for it. But in the allusive moments you managed to catch here and there were the nightmares. Horrible scenes where Gabriel screamed for you to help him as he reached toward you and you were always too late to save him.

Sometimes the two of you were surrounded by blood—covered with it, soaked in it.

A few times there had been an ocean roiling in a storm, the massive waves sucking him down into the endless black while they pushed you further and further away from him.

Once there’d been an unrelenting sun shining on an expanse of empty desert while Gabriel dug fingers into ever shifting sand as he tried to drag himself to water that was always just beyond his reach. Every time you tried to close the distance between you, you sank further into the soft ground.

It was the other dreams that you dreaded the most. The ones that you wished to avoid at all costs. The dreams that left you longing and aching for your angel. Those were the ones that brought into harsh relief just how empty your arms and your bed were. You would weep hopelessly from the reminder of what you’d lost and your already broken heart would shatter just a little bit more.

Images of you and Gabriel curled up together in a large hammock on the beach while it gently rocked in the ocean breeze, laughter dancing in the air around you while you basked in each other’s love.

The two of you getting married under a starry sky in a clearing lit by torches. His wings on full display as he smiled that cheeky grin you so loved.

Gabe holding a giggling baby with his hair and your eyes while you looked on full of love for them both. And he’d turn to look at you and give you a true, genuine smile—that sincere one you didn’t see nearly enough.

Those were the nights you could never get back to sleep, the wound too raw and abrasive. You knew you should try to get past it, to move on, but you couldn’t. Gabe was it for you. Your soulmate. How could you possibly get over losing everything?

The boys woke to the smell of coffee and bacon and shuffled their way to the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sam said in a soft voice as you passed him a mug of coffee. He kissed you on the cheek. “Thanks.”

Dean wasn’t nearly as amiable as his brother until he had his morning caffeine. He grunted a hello and sat at the table, giving you a small nod when you placed his mug in front of him.

He was halfway through his second cup and nearly done with his food before he spoke. “Still not sleeping?”

You glanced to him in surprise. His mouth was twisted as if he was biting back something he desperately wished to say. “I sleep,” you said defensively. If it was only an hour at a time you snatched here and there, well that was none of his business.

“No, you don’t.” He leaned back in his chair and the corners of his mouth pulled down in a sharp frown. “You think I can’t hear you when you wake up in the middle of the night? That I don’t realize you pad around here at all hours like a damn ghost? This has got to stop.”

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was tight, a warning in it as his gaze darted between the two of you.

“No, Sam. We’ve let her grieve. And for a lot longer than we should have. I’m tired of her moping around all the damn time.”

You physically jerked from the pain caused by his words. “I’m sorry my mourning is an inconvenience for you, Winchester. I’ll make sure not to bother you any further.” Your voice cracked on the last words. The Winchesters might not be blood, but they were your family. The thought that they may think of you as no more than a burden made your heart ache that much more.

“He didn’t mean it like that, Y/N,” Sam said in an attempt to placate you.

Your gaze darted to him. “Then how did he mean it, Sam?”

Dean leaned forward with a sigh. “I meant that it’s breaking my heart to see you like this, sweetheart. You’ve barely smiled in months and you haven’t laughed at all. You were always the bright spot in all this mess. I hate this, Y/N. Gabriel would hate this.”

Tears instantly flooded your eyes. “Don’t. Don’t say his name. Don’t talk about him like you have the slightest inkling what he would want.” The tears overflowed to spill down your cheeks.

“Don’t be like this. I think we knew him well enough to be able to say that the last thing he would want is for you to be miserable,” Sam said.

Your gaze shifted between the two brothers. “You don’t understand. I’m shattered and I don’t think I can be fixed.”

***

Late that night you laid on your bed, hands behind your head as you stared at the ceiling. Your eyes burned with fatigue but you still had no desire to go to sleep. You’d been holed up in your room ever since your discussion with the brothers that morning. They’d both tried to get you to come out at various points throughout the day, but you’d ignored them.

Dean was right. It was time for you to try to put this behind you, but how did you even begin to do that? A fluttering of wings interrupted your thoughts and you groaned. The brothers had sent their errand boy. “I’m not in the mood, Cas. Come back tomorrow.”

“Not Cassie. Sorry, sweetheart.”

Your entire body froze at the sound of the voice that had haunted your sleeping and waking hours for the past months. When you closed your eyes, hot tears leaked from the corners. “He’s not here. It’s not real.” You’d had this dream before, fallen asleep in mid-thought and conjured him up. That moment before you realized he wasn’t real had been your happiest moment since his death. The moment after? Almost worse than losing him the first time.

Fingers brushed along your skin as they traced the lines of your face. You took a shuddering breath knowing if you opened your eyes and he wasn’t there, it just might kill you this time.

“Look at me.” It wasn’t a question or a request. It was a plea, a tone you rarely heard from the confident angel.

You held your breath as you opened your eyes. When your gaze met whiskey eyes and a lopsided grin, that breath came out in a ragged sigh. Tears flowed freely now and you pressed your hand against your mouth in an attempt to keep the sobs at bay. “Gabriel.”

The name felt foreign on your tongue. You hadn’t allowed yourself to say it since he died. Realization slammed into you. Not dead. Gone. He’d left you and let you think it was forever. You pulled away from him and sat up against the wall. His smile fell at the loss of contact.

“Please don’t cry, sugar. My heart can’t take it. I’m back. Everything is going to be all right now.” He placed one knee on the bed to close the new distance between you but moved back when you shook your head.

You pressed a fist against your chest hoping to ease the ache you felt there. “You left me.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” His eyes searched your face.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I was for a bit.” He shrugged one shoulder and grimaced in pain.

You were on your knees in an instant and moving across the bed, your hurt and anger melting away at the thought he might be injured. Your hands hovered over him as you weren’t certain where to touch. “Are you hurt?”

He gripped your wrist and moved your hand to rest on his chest. His fingers remained wrapped around your arm and his thumb slid along your skin. “I’m okay, Y/N. Just still healing.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you frowned. “Still?”

He moved both hands to cup your face and looked into your eyes. “Even miracles take a little time. I would have been here the moment I was resurrected if I could have been. I’ve been waiting to get healthy enough to come to you. As it was, I had to call in a favor to get here today.”

“Did you hurt yourself coming here?” Panic laced your voice. “Why didn’t you wait?”

He chuckled. “After Dean spent about fifteen minutes cussing me out via prayer, I decided it was perhaps best if I didn’t make you wait any longer. Besides, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. And as your angel wrapped his arms around you to hold you tight, you felt your heart piece itself back together. Maybe you could be fixed after all.

****

All the things: @swanky-batman @rissyrapp20 @startrekkingaroundasgard @spooookyscary @taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @laneygthememequeen @collette04 @shatteredabby

[thevampirediariesdiary]

2.07 Masquerade (part II)

(part one here)

Jeremy rushes back to Bonnie and Elena’s side.  “Are you okay?” he asks.  “Are they?” Elena asks.  “They’re stuck in there with her,” he answers, and tells Bonnie what Katherine said about the witch; Bonnie goes off to look for Lucy.  Jeremy tries to give Elena the Gilbert ring, telling her that she needs it more than he does; “What I need is for you to be safe,” she says.  The scare with Jenna a few days earlier clearly hit her hard; she would rather risk herself than anyone she loves.

“The three of us together, just like old times!” Katherine says. “The brother who loved me too much...and the one who didn’t love me enough.”  Stefan watches her, stoically.  “And the evil slut vampire who only loved herself!” Damon finishes drily.  “What happened to you, Damon?” Katherine says, clipped. “You used to be so sweet and polite.”  “Oh, that Damon died a looong time ago,” he answers.  “Good,” Katherine says, “he was a bore.”  “Oh, why don’t you two stop antagonizing each other?” Stefan says, and asks Katherine what she wants with the moonstone.  “Does Elena enjoy having both of you worship at her altar?” she asks.  Stefan and Damon exchange amused looks.  “That was desperate, Katherine,” Stefan says, “don’t you think we could see right through you?”  Behind him, Damon does this:

A gesture which seems to answer Katherine’s question “Kind of”, or “Who wouldn’t?”.  “So it doesn’t bother you that Damon’s in love with your girlfriend?” Katherine says, innocently curious.  “Stop it,” Stefan says, coldly.  “Or what, you’ll hurt me?” she says, and snorts.  “Come on, Stefan.  Everything I feel, Elena feels.  So go ahead! Or better yet?  Kiss me, Damon.  She’ll feel that, too.”

“So what happened to Amy?” says girl whose name I can’t remember #2.  (RIP Amy, I’m sorry I could only remember your name in The Good Place and not here.) “She disappeared,” Matt says, and proceeds to act like a drunken asshole, making fun of Tyler for his dead abusive father.  Tyler still won’t fight him; but Matt tackles him to the ground.  Caroline hears the commotion and runs in to tear Matt off of him. “Stop!” she tells him, while Tyler looks a little spooked that she threw a full-grown man halfway across the room. “I can’t,” Matt grunts, “let me go, I have to finish!”  “What’s wrong with you?” Tyler shouts.  Caroline looks into Matt’s eyes; comprehension dawns, and she elbows him sharply in face. He falls down, unconscious.  While Caroline is seeing if he’s okay, girl #2 picks up a letter opener from the desk and says flatly “Matt failed. If Matt fails, I can’t.”  “Tyler, look out!” Caroline yells; he spins around and whats-her-name stabs him in the shoulder.  He lashes out blindly; she falls, hits her head on the edge of the desk, and doesn’t move.  “No, no, no,” Tyler says, his voice becoming panicked.  He drops to his knees, begs the girl to wake up, open her eyes.  

“Oh my god,” Caroline breathes.  “This can’t happen,” Tyler says. “This can’t be happening.” He stands up, starts to pace, then drops to his knees and punches the ground.  “Tyler, what’s happening?” Caroline asks.  

“Get away!” he says.  “What’s happening?” she screams.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a werewolf.

“Damnit,” Damon complains, “where’s that witch?”  Katherine gasps. “We could play charades!” she suggests, proving once and for all that she is evil incarnate.  Stefan monologues about Katherine’s history with the moonstone; she says her bargain with the Lockwoods of old would have worked if people hadn’t found out she wasn’t in the tomb.  “Thanks to you, by the way,” she says, turning on Damon, who raises his glass to her (how did he find bourbon??).  “Have I mentioned how inconvenient your obsession with me has been?”  “Hmm,” says Damon, “you and me both, honey.”  Detective Stefan continues to monologue, finding his way back to the question of who Katherine was running from when she faked her death.  Katherine continues to throw non sequiturs at him, telling him he looks good in a suit, and that she watched him and “that wench Lexi” at a Bon Jovi concert in the 80s.  “Who were you running from?” he repeats.  She mouths ‘I love you’ silently, which, since Damon’s back is turned, seems to be an absolutely surprising concession to his feelings - or else an attempt to make Stefan feel like they’re in cahoots together.  Who knows.   

Bonnie finally tracks down Lucy at the party, who tells her “Tell your friends to hand over the moonstone, and all will be groovy.” Lucy senses that Bonnie has the moonstone, Bonnie senses that Lucy’s trustworthy.  It’s all very witchy.

Damon pours himself another drink.  “I’ll have one of those!” Katherine exclaims.  “Right away Miss Katherine,” says Damon, in a very sad impression of his former self.  He hands her a drink, and then tackles her while she’s distracted.  “As soon as the spell’s lifted, I’m gonna drive this stake through your heart,” he tells her.  “God, you’re hot,” she answers. “When did you get so hot?”  Stefan pulls him off her, and Lucy appears in the doorway with the moonstone.  “The spell on this room has been removed, you’re free to go,” she announces.  “Thank god,” Katherine whines.  Lucy hands her the moonstone, Katherine looks pleased for only a moment and then begins to choke.  “You should have told me another witch was involved,” Lucy says coldly. “She’s a Bennet witch, Katherine, but I’m sure you knew that.”  Katherine falls to the ground, gasping.  “Wait, Elena!” Stefan exclaims.  “Elena’s fine,” Lucy says. “The spell’s broken, she’ll heal quickly, Bonnie’s with her.”  Both boys watch Katherine slip into unconsciousness; the reality that the long fight is over begins to sink in.  “I apologize for my involvement,” Lucy says, and leaves. 

Caroline tells Mrs. Lockwood that Sarah (that’s her name! RIP Sarah) was drunk and dancing and she tripped, and then, when she’s gone, tells Tyler that she’ll deal with Matt.  “What are you doing?” he asks sharply.  “I’m fixing a very bad situation,” she answers.  “Why?” he asks. “I did this.  I killed her.” “No!” Caroline says.  “You…didn’t mean to.  And I think it’s best, for everyone –”  “But, she’s dead,” Tyler interrupts her. “You don’t know what that means.” “Actually, Tyler,” Caroline says, looking him in the eyes, “I think I do.”  He sighs, says, “No, you don’t, Caroline.”  She looks him up and down, says, “Has your wound healed?”  He checks his chest, and looks at her, stunned.  “How did you…?”  She just looks at him, steady and confident.  She doesn’t say anything, but she’s not going to let him think he’s all alone in this, like she thought when she turned.  She’s found her life’s purpose: Caroline Forbes, ambassador to new supernaturals.

Lucy tells Bonnie that they’re kind of related, and that she’s been a wakeup call for her: “I gotta stop letting vampires control me.”  “Please, don’t leave,” Bonnie begs.  “I have so many questions.  I don’t wanna be in the middle either, I hate it.  How do I stay out of it?”  “Unlike me you’re one of the good ones, Bonnie,” Lucy says. “The middle of it is exactly where you need to be.”  Balance, etc. blah blah blah.  “You take care, cuz,” she says. “Don’t worry, you’ll see me again.”  And then she left the show, never to return (as far as I remember).  “Hey,” says Jeremy, coming up next to Bonnie, “I was gonna head home, can I offer you a ride?”  He looks at her teary face, asks, “Are you okay?”  She nods, asks laughingly, “When did you get your driver’s license?”  He laughs too, says, “I’m not a kid anymore, Bonnie.”  Dun dun duuuun. 

“Brave” by Tawgs Salter starts up: “I think I’ll be brave, starting with you, but I’ll fall away if you tell me to.”  Shit’s about to go down.  Stefan finds Elena at the edge of the lake; she reassures him that she’s okay.  “I heard about Katherine,” she says. “Is she really gone?”  “Yeah,” Stefan says.  Elena lets out a sigh; he smiles at her, takes her face in his hands. “I was so worried about you – ” he starts, but she cuts him off.  “Stefan – ”

She takes his hand, removes it from her face, and then looks away – she can’t say it.  “Katherine being gone doesn’t change anything for you, does it?” Stefan realizes. “I wanna be with you Stefan, you know that,” Elena says.  He nods. “But first,” she says, “I need to wake up and know that the people that I love are safe.  I need to feel safe.  Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” he says, quietly. “Yeah, I understand.” They lock eyes for only a moment, and then she nods, and walks away from him.  This is an important moment in Elena’s journey – she still wants to be with Stefan, but she doesn’t want to hide with him anymore, she doesn’t want him to be her escape.  She doesn’t want life with him, loving him, to be the only thing in her life that makes her feel alive.  There are so many things, so many people in her life that she loves – and she wants to be secure in that before she starts something with him.  He was the first thing to make her feel alive after her parents died – but now she wants to wake up all the way.  If they can start over again later with that foundation, they might actually have a chance.

Katherine wakes up in the dark, on the dirty ground, with the moonstone next to her.  She drags herself to her feet and makes for the doorway, only to hit an invisible wall, again.  She begins to panic, and then somebody enters across from her.

“Hello, Katherine,” Damon says.  He’s not glib or sarcastic or self-deprecating, or any of the other things he was when they were trapped together in the Lockwoods’ upstairs room.  He’s subdued, maybe even a little sad.  “Where am I?” she asks.  “Where you should have been all along,” he says. “I thought you’d have learned your lesson by now, messing with a Bennet witch.” “You should have killed me,” Katherine hisses.  “Death would have been too kind,” Damon answers, the slightest quaver in his voice. He steps forward, and takes hold of the stone door to push it into place.  “No!” Katherine says.  “No, Damon, don’t please.  You need me, Elena’s in danger!”  

He stops abruptly,and without seeming to intend to, breathes, “From who?”  Katherine takes a shaky breath, but says nothing.

“You’re lying,” Damon realizes, bitterly, adding in a small voice, “you’re always lying.”

“Why do you think I haven’t killed her?” Katherine begs.  “Because she’s the doppelganger, she needs to be protected.”  Damon takes this in, says simply: “Then I’ll protect her.”  “No,” Katherine breathes.  “While you rot in hell,” he says. “No,” Katherine begs, “please, Damon, I’ll do anything! You need me!”  His stony mask breaks, but he shuts her in.  “You need me!” she screams, falling to the ground as the darkness envelops her.  He takes a step back from the door, lets out a breath, and sets his jaw – but you can see the glint of tears in his eyes as he turns towards the exit.

And then Elena gets kidnapped walking to her car. 

Now.  Let’s recap the recap, since I’m at this point over 5000 words total.  This is a perfect arc finale for several reasons:  

1. As discussed above, the episode leads to real growth for the protagonist.  Elena’s journey to feeling alive is, arguably, her central arc for the duration of the entire show, and it’s majorly thematic here.

2. There’s a perfect mix of things going according to plan, things being hidden from the audience, and things that are genuine twists.  It’s great to see Caroline turn Katherine’s victimization of her around on her, the fight in the upstairs room is, as previously stated, fantastic, and the revelation that Elena and Katherine are linked is a great twist.  Lucy choosing to turn on her isn’t a very satisfying solution, but I think maybe it could have been if Lucy had been a recurring character, as they clearly meant for her to be. Then, the twist that they don’t kill Katherine packs a serious punch.  Even the sideplot with Tyler is handled well – Matt’s sweet conversation with Elena early on and his tragic-glance-exchange with Caroline make it believable that this just might be his last episode.

3.  Katherine’s fate has a real poetic, ironic justice to it; it isn’t merely cruel.  If you look at the way Teen Wolf disposes of their villains, for example, the first three go like this: traumatized, criminally insane burn victim is set on fire; traumatized, criminally insane near-drowning victim is held forcibly underwater until he drowns; mutilated revenge-seeking sorceress has her true, hideous appearance revealed before she’s killed. That’s not what happens with Katherine – she’s not subjected to her worse fear, or to something generically painful.  She’s put “where she should have been all along”.  Damon wanted to save her from the tomb – but she didn’t want to be saved, didn’t want his efforts on her behalf or his love, and precisely because of that she ends up in that same place, where she never actually was, except no one wants to save her.  And she really does know things that are essential for Elena’s safety – but because she lied, and specifically lied about being in the tomb, Damon won’t believe her.  Because she rejected him, and because she lied, the one person who would have gone to the ends of the earth to save her closes the door on her and tells her to rot in hell.

4.  There is a natural opening for the next phase of the story; questions are left unanswered, and the next twist (Elena getting snatched) doesn’t come out of left field. The transition from 2a to 2b, from Katherine to the real big bad, is seamless.  This villain bait-and-switch is on par with Spike and Druscilla being joined by Angelus in Buffy season 2.

[rachello344]

This is a quick Hades/Persephone Hunkalot AU I wrote on something of a whim.  I’m not sure if I’m going to do more with the idea, but once it occurred to me, it was hard to think about anything else.  ;D  I hope you all enjoy it!  And if you do, I hope you’ll let me know!  <3

Hunk glanced up when the ornate doors at the other end of the throne room opened.  Lotor continued his work, occasionally marking names on an endless list.  Hunk watched as the mortal hesitantly pressed on, their eyes darting nervously despite the confidence they tried to project. Hunk smiled, leaning on his arm rest.

“Shall I take this one?” he asked, voice low enough that the mortal couldn’t hear.

Lotor waved a hand absently.  “Sure, sure, do as you will.  I swear, the mortals are dying faster than ever.  Try not to kill this one, would you?  Her life is supposed to be a long one.”

Hunk rolled his eyes, but rested his hand over Lotor’s on the armrest between them.  “Yes, dear.” The woman approached with equal parts hesitance and confidence.

As soon as she was kneeling before them, Hunk addressed her.  “You have come a long way.  What is it you seek?”

“I would humbly request that my husband be revived, through your mercy and grace.”  She kept her head lowered respectfully.  Hunk hummed to himself as Lotor scribbled a note next to another name, clearly not listening.

“And why should I?  Is he some great man who would change the world?  Does he hold some significance to the gods?”  Hunk leaned back.  “Death is meant to be final,” he reminded her.

She looked up, careful not to meet his eyes.  Even so, her gaze took him in, calculating and considering how she could best respond—the truth, or a well-spun lie.  Frankly, Hunk usually found himself charmed by both, depending on his mood.  Mortals brave enough to lie to the gods were entertaining, and mortals brave enough to tell the gods an inconvenient truth equally so.

After a soft breath, she said, “There is truly no reason you should, my lord.  I do not presume to tell you what you should do.  I only come with a request.  I am alone, but for my children, and they need their father as much as I need my husband. Unless my children become more than their birthright, my husband will serve no greater purpose.”  She bowed her head once more.  “And yet, I still must ask.  I could not simply do nothing, when I knew there was the slightest, slimmest possibility.  No matter the danger.”

“And if you had died?” Hunk asked.  “What of these children you love so much?”

“There is an elderly couple in our village who would care for them.”  She hesitated.  “I knew of the possibility, though I hoped otherwise, of course.” She dared to raise her head once more. “We are not wealthy, my lord, but should you grant my request, I can promise to travel as often as I can to pay tribute at your temples.”  Her head bowed again.  “It would be an honor.”

Hunk smiled.  As a girl, he could see her playing with the flowers he so painstakingly spread.  As a young woman, he knew she adored the spring and the bouquets she received from her lover.  And as a wife and mother, he could see her acceptance of death and her courage in facing it directly, actively.

“I can grant your request,” he decided.  “On one condition.”

“You need only name it, my lord,” she breathed, hope evident in the line of her shoulders.

“You will do as you promised, honoring us in whatever way you can.  And, when you leave, you must not turn back.”  She looked up, gaze stopping at his chin.  “If you turn around, if you choose not to trust my word, your husband’s soul will return to its resting place, and neither you nor any other will be able to try again.”  He gave her a moment to weigh his words properly before asking, “Do we have a deal?”

“We do, my lord.”

“Then rise,” Hunk said, leaning forward.  “Return the way you came.  No one will give you any trouble, so you need not fear.  When you have once again set foot on the grass across the river Styx, your husband will be by your side.  But only if you do not look back, no matter how strong the temptation.”

She stood and bowed gracefully.  “Thank you, my lord.  Thank you.”

“You may leave whenever you are ready.  Once you leave this room, you may not turn back for any reason.”  Hunk smiled.  “You may take as long as you need.”

She bowed again, turned, and began her walk to the door.  Once it was shut behind her, Lotor chuckled.  “That was rather kind of you.  Have you arranged for her husband’s soul to be always out of sight?”

Hunk shook his head.  “She will be able to sense him, so the temptation should be less powerful.”  He smiled.  “She told me the truth, even when it didn’t really benefit her.  And she risked her life coming here.”

“You’re too easy on them, Hunk.  They’ll think you’ve gone soft.”  Lotor’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I’m very selective,” Hunk allowed, “so no matter what they say, their chances remain slim.  Now, tell me, are you nearly at a stopping point?  I’d rather hoped to steal you away for a short while.  After all, too soon, I’ll be called on to return to the lands above.”  He rubbed Lotor’s hand, stroking his arm.  Lotor finally lifted his gaze from his scroll.  His eyes were dark.

“You make a strong argument, husband mine.  I suppose I could take a break,” he said, leaning down.  “But only because I hate the thought of your leaving.”

“Would that I could stay,” he murmured, tilting his head until their lips were a breath apart.  “If only you could visit me.”

“Perhaps I could find the time for one visit,” Lotor murmured.  His lips brushed Hunk’s with every word.  Hunk closed his eyes, sighing and pressing their lips together more firmly.  Hunk heard Lotor set his scroll aside, his hands cupping either side of Hunk’s face, cradling him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

Hunk wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck, licking into his mouth. No matter how long they’d been together, he never got tired of kissing.  When Lotor kissed him like this, it felt like it was the first time. Hunk could feel the sun on his skin, smell the flowers at his feet, hear the voices of his friends and siblings wondering where he’d run off to.

Lotor was gentle in his passion, but Hunk could feel the fire growing between them, flaring up like a torch.  Sometime he wondered what his life might look like had he refused his husband’s advances all those years ago.  He supposed his life would be simpler, focused on the harvest with the rest of his family, but even with the stresses of managing the underworld, he couldn’t imagine returning to that life.  Especially not when his husband was at hand.

Lotor slowed their kissing, pressing his lips to the corner of Hunk’s mouth and then his cheek.  “Shall we take this to the bedroom, my love?”

Hunk grinned widely.  “Let’s.” His family was wonderful, but he couldn’t imagine giving up his beloved husband for anything.  Not even the king of the gods himself.

Some part of his thoughts must have shown in his gaze; Lotor lifted him into his arms, carrying him to their bedroom as though it was their wedding night. Hunk laughed, kissing along his jaw. Ever the romantic, his husband.

“I would defy the very heavens for you,” Hunk whispered to him.  Lotor placed him on the bed, crowding over him and sealing their lips together on a moan.

“I would steal you away again and again for all eternity,” Lotor breathed into his mouth.  “I would secret you away where no one could ever find you again.”

Hunk wrapped himself around Lotor, tugging him down until they were flush, kissing him again, open mouthed and hungry.  They had seventy three days of winter remaining, and Hunk intended to use each day to its fullest.  He wasn’t going to waste a moment.

[iridulcentdays]

[RusAme] Veritas

Guess who asked for this? No one. Guess who gets it–you guys. A short drabble because I am avoiding packing right now. 

RusAme- Rated: T- Spy AU

Alfred’s wrists were screaming against the metal cuffs by the time his captives decided to move on in the interrogation.

“Alright,” said the woman sitting by the end of the metal gurney Alfred was strapped to. She looked bored, and minus a few stay blonde hairs and the slightest smudge of her cherry red lipstick, it would have been hard to recognize she was getting impatient. “I thought Americans never shut up.” She pressed at a bruise on the lower end of his shin and Alfred glared at her. “Maybe we should have taken the Russian.”

“I hate to break it to you,” her partner said, a wall of a man who looked like he owned a cross fit gym or two. He ran his hand through black hair before he drummed his fingers next to Alfred’s head. It was giving him a migraine, the way the vibrations carried up his spine and rand in his ears. “But if this kid isn’t talking, there’s no fucking way ice king would.”

“Original,” Alfred muttered under his breath. Either his captors didn’t hear him or didn’t care that he was still snarking. He tongued at one of his front teeth, which felt loose to him. The dried blood below his nose was itchy and driving him crazy.

“Why don’t we try something different before you break his jaw,” she offered, and walked out of Alfred’s sight. Alfred flexed his arms again to see if he could get out of the cuffs holding him down. He couldn’t.

“Why not,” the man offered. Alfred thought his name was David for some reason. He wasn’t really sure. After the second punch to the head his thoughts had grown a bit fuzzy. Man, Ivan was going to kill him for getting caught again, he thought.  Although this time it wasn’t even his fault. Could he really be blamed for getting caught when getting away meant a bullet in the head of a kid? “You want to give it to him?”

Alfred’s body stiffened when he felt the sharp piercing of a needle into his thigh.

He tried to pull himself away, and felt her dig her fingers into the upper part of his thigh through his pants, nails digging in as she calmly administered the drug. Alfred swore, and received a slap for it. He blinked, focusing on a patch of water stains in the ceiling as his vision wavered.

“I thought I said no foul language,” she chastised and pulled her fingers back to check her nails with a frown. “You made me chip my thumb.”

“Sorry,” Alfred huffed. “A real inconvenience.” He knew he was going to get it again, but he couldn’t help rolling his eyes. He clenched his teeth as she gripped his sprained ankle and squeezed. His heartbeat pulsed behind his eyes.

“Calm down,” David said, sitting on the edge of the table. He had an apple and carved it apart with a thin red penknife. As he popped a slice into his mouth he asked, “How’s it going kid?”

“Fine,” Alfred snapped. “Better if you loosened these handcuffs a bit.”

David raised a brow a shrugged. “Sorry. Can’t do that.” David leaned in as though about to share a secret. “You’d wiggle out too easily,”

“At least it’d be a fair fight,” Alfred said. He turned his eyes back to the water patch. It kind of looked like a rabbit. “Actually, I forgot, it wouldn’t. Obviously you’re such a fucking coward or you wouldn’t hold a six year old hostage.”

“But see I must have done something right,” David said, tapping Alfred’s exposed stomach with the cold blade of the knife. His shirt had rucked up in his struggles. “I’m not strapped to the table, am I?” He smirked and took another slice of the apple, crunching on it obnoxiously. “Now I’m going to come back in about 10 minutes, and I want you to think real hard about your partner, because we’re real curious about him.”

Alfred said nothing and David shrugged. He hopped off and left Alfred alone. Alfred stared at the rabbit looking stain, blinked when it looked like it moved. Fuck. This wasn’t good.

He chattered when he was nervous. About stupid inconsequential stuff that usually got at Ivan’s nerves halfway through a mission. But being strapped to a table and pumped full of drugs for questioning? Well he wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Oddly, he’d never been stuck quite like this before.

So Alfred tried stuffing down everything he knew about Ivan. How he had two ‘sisters’ who had taught him how to cook and how to kill a man with a single hit to the back of the head. How he loved sunflowers, but never bought them for himself. He pushed down the memories of what Ivan looked like: staring down the burning barrel of a gun, waking up in a cool purple morning with the constellations trapped in his eyes, reading a map in the middle of a snowy forest with snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes. The rabbit started to turn its head towards him.

Why did they want to know about him anyway? Does it matter why? The rabbit asked.

What the fuck was in that syringe?

“Oh, just a pinch here a dash of that,” Came David’s voice from left of his head. Alfred, startled by the sudden teleportation, jumped as well as he could being tied down to the table. His wrist welled blood from cutting into the cuffs. “Lucky you don’t seem to be allergic to anything.”

“Real lucky,” Alfred agreed dryly. Damn. He hoped Ivan would get here soon.

“We do too,” the woman said. Alfred raised his head a bit, could see her standing next to a metal tray. Metal trays were never good. Alfred bit down on his tongue to make sure he wasn’t talking without realizing it.

“What’s your partner’s full name?” she asked, tapping her fingers along his bare forearm.

Alfred kept quiet, but the answers ran though his brain. Held up on the answer, repeating:  IVAN BRAGINSKY. IVAN BRAGINSKY. IVA–

“Give him a minute or two more, Lexi,” David said. Oh. That was her name. “It’s only been 10 minutes. We might need to give him more.” Oh, well, Alfred hoped not. His heart was racing as it was. He felt flushed, like he had a fever, and the rabbit was twitching in the ceiling above.

But then again, he sure did feel good right now. His wrists didn’t hurt. His jaw didn’t hurt. But everything was getting too bright and his eyes and head hurt. Christ where was that son of a bitch? Was he still in Poland–

“Poland?” Lexi asked.

“Fuck,” Alfred said. “Shit, no. Where am I again?”

“Greece,” she supplied.

Okay, so, no. Braginsky was just taking his fucking sweet time. He definitely hadn’t left him in Poland. “Do you think that looks like a rabbit?” Alfred asked, still looking at the water stain. The rabbit was cleaning it’s paws right now which would look adorable if it were real.

“Sure,” David said.

“Huh.” Alfred said. He was as high as a kite, wasn’t he?

“Yes,” David said, and Alfred could feel his hand press along the outside of his thigh were a pulsing bruise had mellowed out to a murmur. “Now, what is your partner’s name?”


“Ivan?” Alfred asked. He frowned when he saw the rabbit turn to him. It frowned. How the fuck did a rabbit look grumpy?

“Ivan what?” Lexi pressed.

“I dunno,” Alfred said. Because he had doubts. Sure, he and Ivan were pretty close, but Alfred wondered if Braginsky was really his last name. It didn’t seem very Russian. Wouldn’t it be spelled B-R-A-G-I-N-S-K-I? Or was that Polish? And shouldn’t he have a middle name or something? Like Ivanovich?

“Sandwich,” Alfred snorted. That rhymed. Ivan Sandwich Braginski. No wonder he never said his real name.

“You gave him too much,” Lexi accused. Alfred felt David’s fingers press hard into the wound and he let out a strangled whimper. Immediately it dulled when David pulled his hand away and Alfred sighed.

David walked further into Alfred’s line of sight. “Why don’t you tell us something about Ivan?”

“He can hit a target at 200 yards with a pistol.” Alfred said. That had been thrilling to watch at the practice range. “And he really likes pirozhki, but they’re literally stuffed bread? Like I just don’t get it. It’s like a hamburger calzone.” The place smells like wet cement. His hair is plastered to his head from a wound and it itches.

“How long have you worked with him?”

Alfred chewed on his lip in thought. “A year now, I think. He thinks I’m too young. I wonder if that’s why he doesn’t like me.” The rabbit was running around in circles. It started to give him a headache.

“You don’t get along?”

“No we do, but,” Alfred sighed. He could feel phantom fingers running through his hair. His mother used to do that. But he could now smell cedar. Ivan always smelled like cedar or juniper somehow. “I mean, I just don’t know why he doesn’t.” Alfred’s voice dropped to a whisper.  

“Where do you work?”

“Everywhere,” Alfred said. He and Ivan had been set all over Europe at this point. Notably there was the mission in Buenos Aires that had somehow wedged something between them. Alfred had thought they were getting along perfectly, and then he had taken a shot to the back and blacked out, and after that when he woke up in the hospital, Ivan wouldn’t talk to him. Still hadn’t talked to him. Not really. “Ivan really wants to go back to Russia though, so I always try and see if we can work there. I’d like to meet his ‘sisters’.”

“How many sisters does he have?”

“Two,” Alfred raised his head and colors swan dived around the room. His head fell back down with a heavy thump. The rabbit began to clean its paws, disinterested in the events below.

“Does he have any other family?”

“He doesn’t have a family. They’re all dead.” Not that they’d ever talked about that. It had been in his personnel file that Alfred had stolen to read when he first learned they’d been assigned to each other. Not that he could complain. He’d never said anything about his family either.

“I thought you just said he had two sisters?” Lexi walked closer to the table and something wobbled through his brain, a diminished whisper of warning. That he should keep his mouth shut. His heart was beating against his chest. Painful. Eyes hurt from the light.

“They died,” Alfred repeated. Held onto the truth by a quickly unraveling thread.

“Give him more,” Lexi snapped.


“His heart rate is already too high.” David walked around to the metal tray Lexi was standing at.  He picked up another syringe. Alfred’s breath hitched.

“Ah, I can see you don’t want another injection,” Lexi said softly. Her icy fingers trailed across Alfred’s cheek gently. Revulsion rolled though his gut. Lexi grabbed his chin hard. “So start talking.”

Alfred bit down on his tongue and tasted copper. He flexed his hand against the cuff and the dried blood cracked and itched. Alfred blinked as he watched the rabbit bound around the ceiling dizzyingly,  looking as through it was being chased by a furious fox.  He tensed as he felt the needle back in his leg.

“Lexi,” David snapped.

“It’s a half dose,” Lexi said. Alfred listened to something clatter against the metal tray. He shut his eyes. “It shouldn’t kill him.”

Alfred felt warm. Far too warm. The silence of the room drummed in his ears with each heartbeat and his breathing quickened as the drug took effect. He panted shallowly, looked up to the ceiling. Colors ebbed and swirled around, too vivid. He swallowed, mouth too dry. Fingers twitched. Tapped out useless messages against the board he was held to.

“Now,” David said after what felt like only a second. But he had been standing at the other side of the room before. Now he was suddenly here. Alfred stared at him in confusion. “Tell us about your partner.”

“Ivan is going to kill you,” Alfred said with certainty. Maybe after killing Alfred for getting caught. His partner really didn’t like people who hurt Alfred. And Alfred destroyed people who hurt Ivan. Insurance, Ivan had told him when Alfred had been musing to himself if it was love. “You won’t even know what hit you. He’s so fast and strong, and christ, does he have amazing forearms like,” Alfred exhaled slowly. He felt fuzzy. Sort of good. But bad. Like he had guzzled too many drinks and his stomach was sea sick but the rest of him felt cloudy and warm and great. “Damn. He could probably rip a tree apart.”  The rabbit was gone but he could hear a voice talking to him in his ear. Stay clam. I’m almost there.

“He knows six languages, and can get by in two more. He can open safes faster than me, but he doesn’t like using explosives. He likes tea, but no sugar. He hates super sugary things.” Alfred swallowed again. His mouth was too dry. The room still smelled like mold and rust.  He smelled like gun oil and wood smoke and something like cedar and something not. The first time Alfred had met him at his house the air had been thick with bacon and onions and mushrooms and his breath had smelled briny.

“And his eyes,” Alfred continued. “Amazing.” He thought of the sea at sunset, of the amber city lights brushing blue storm clouds. Violet eyes, the color of the shadows to the wall that never revealed his thoughts. Are you okay? Alfred shut his eyes, felt dumb pain roll down his shin as Lexi pressed down, angry with his answers. He moaned. There was a growl like thunder.

“What the hell? This is all nonsense,” David said.

“Do you love him?” Lexi asked.

Alfred laughed and his lip split painfully. “Yeah.”

Silence reined. “We could use him as bait for the other, he might be more useful. He might talk at threat of torture of this lovesick idiot”

Anger welled up in Alfred’s gut, so tight and horrid it made it hard to speak. “If you touch him I’ll rip your throat out. I’ll kill you.”

“Not much you can do tied to a table,” David said and turned back to Lexi.

“I’ll kill you,” Alfred repeated. The world wobbled around him, a tilted carousel of lights and sounds and colors. I’m almost there. Just hold on. His lungs hurt. His whole body twitched, muscles seizing painfully.

“He’ll be more useful,” Lexi said.

“He won’t come,” Alfred slurred. His throat ached. Everything ached. Another growl. “I love him, but he hates me. You don’t come back for people you hate.” What are you talking about.

I don’t hate you. Have I ever left you behind. “He won’t come. He’ll finish the mission without me.”

“What was your mission?” Lexi asked, eyes sparkling at the new possible information.

“Infiltrate your organization and then remove all of your sources of financing so your business would topple and your backers would finish you off. But then you got into human trafficking and we had to make sure  there was no way your were coming back from any of this.” Alfred looked at Lexi and smiled “Unfortunately Marcus wasn’t fully on our side. He helped us get in, but he tipped you off, which is how you found out about us.” Alfred turned his head and looked to the darker side of the room. Or was it that one of his eyes was loosing it’s vision? There was a gray film over everything. “Ivan was smarter. Did his own thing,” Alfred mumbled under his breath.

“When I found out what Marcus did, you found me on my way out. I woulda made it too, but you’re a real piece of shit that uses kids as shields.” Lexi grabbed his knee, fingernails digging viciously under his kneecap. Nerve pain flared hot and bright until it fell away, pulled out to sea by the drugs.

“You’ll pay for that,” Lexi snarled.

Stop making them mad. “I’m sure,” Alfred said. He hiccuped a laugh. “But truth is, you’re not gonna get him to say anything, even if he was coming back for me.”

“We should cut our losses and go,” David said. He tossed a knife to Lexi.

“What so now you want to kill him?”

“That knife looks sharp,” Alfred commented to no one. What knife.

“We should go to ground. We know enough.”

“We don’t know anything!” Lexi snapped. “He’s said useless shit this whole time!”

“Lexi, just slit his throat and let’s go.”

“Slitting the throat’s pretty messy,” Alfred said. It usually hit an artery and that shit went everywhere. Arterial spray did not fuck around. Do not tell them how to kill you. “Just like, a good hit to the liver will get the job done pretty quick.” Stop talking. “Brachial Vein’s a good one too. But the artery’s next to it, so ya gotta make it precise.”

I’m outside. Don’t move. Do not let them kill you.

“Two shots to the head’s the best way, really. One, they might live,” Alfred shut his eyes. “But two?” he scoffed, “Ain’t coming back from that.”

There was a crash and two cracks of a gun. Deafening. Alfred winced and listened to a dull thud. The metal tray crashed to the floor. Foot steps stalked closer. Two more shots, spaced out and final. Gloved fingers touched his chin, warm and familiar. Alfred blinked, watching as Ivan pulled his gloves off with his teeth, putting his fingers along his pulse. “Hi gorgeous,” Alfred said.

“Your pupils are dilated.” Ivan said. He pulled back, putting the gloves back on and pulled out a set of lock picks from his pants. “And your pulse is too fast.”

“What are you doing here?” Alfred asked, watching Ivan quickly pick the locks.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you?” Ivan asked quietly. His accent was thicker and Alfred could tell he was upset, even in a drugged haze.

“Yeah,” Alfred said. “You don’t like me. You’ve been mad at me since last mission. It’s why we split up.”

“No,” Ivan corrected, opening one of the locks. Tacky blood pulled at the skin and Alfred winced. Ivan slowed his motions, being far more gentle than before. “That is not why we split up.”

“Yeah it was. Me n’ Marcus, you by yourself.”

“Alfred,” Ivan muttered, “I needed to be able to open the safe without Marcus watching me. That’s why you took over watching him.”

“Oh. Alfred said. He watched Ivan as he focused on opening the lock on his other hand, face close. Lips close. “I want to kiss you, “Alfred said sadly.

Ivan’s fingers faltered. He looked up, and Alfred was fully caught in his eyes. Red crested his cheek as he looked down. “Later,” Ivan muttered. The lock opened and Ivan gingerly freed Alfred’s wrist. His thumb trailed parallel to the wound.

“Later?” Alfred asked in confusion. Ivan helped him sit up. The world spun and Alfred leaned over, vomiting away from Ivan. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It is okay,” Ivan said. He moved on to Alfred’s feet. Alfred watched silently, fingers clenched on the fabric over his thigh.

“Later will be too late,” Alfred said.

“Why?” Ivan asked, moving to the last lock.

“I won’t be able to tell you that I love you.” hot tears of frustration welled up. Ivan watched him in confusion. “That I want to kiss you and hold you and f–“ he stopped when Ivan’s hand rested on his leg.

“Don’t tell me things you don’t mean,” Ivan said. He pulled his hand away and the silence felt cold in the room.

“I do mean it,” Alfred said, voice hitched with emotion.

“No,” Ivan said finishing with the last lock. “You don’t. You are not yourself at this moment. You are drugged.”

Alfred moved his legs over the side of the table and stared at the concrete floor. “I do mean it. I’m just scared.”

“Of what?”

“That you don’t like me.” His voice fell, small. Fragile.

Ivan watched him and Alfred’s face felt hot. “Tell me,” he finally said and Alfred looked up. “When the drug’s gone. Be brave and tell me. See what my answer is.”

“Okay,” Alfred said. Ivan helped him up, and Alfred could barely stand. “Where’d the rabbit go?” he mumbled, head lolling in exhaustion.

“There’s no rabbit,” Ivan said, shifting Alfred’s weight to better carry him.

“Mmhm. But it left and I heard you instead.”

“That’s the radio in your ear,” Ivan said simply.

“Oh.”

“Come,” Ivan moved them forwards to the door. Alfred didn’t look at Lexi and David’s bodies. Ivan was warm against him and Alfred shivered. He smelled like gun oil and sweat. “Let us go and get you help.”

“Okay.”

[ethalarian]

Defending the Perimeter: Farmers and Sharp Sticks

Herding cats. That’s what this was. Shahin heaved a heavy sigh as he pored over the seemingly endless mound of reports that had piled up on his makeshift desk during his absence, detailing everything from progress on the defensive emplacements to contact reports on patrols (which boiled down to “we didn’t see anything”) to letters from the few farmers in the outlying reaches of Silverbrook they had not yet convinced to seek shelter in the safety of the town proper. Many of the younger farmers, particularly those with families, were easy enough to get through to. The Sunguard simply did not have enough soldiers to cover such a wide berth of land. 

A knock on the door perked his ears and pulled his attention away from the mountain of paper. Reflexively, he scowled at the thought of yet another complaint. There was not enough food, there were not enough weapons, there was not enough medicine, the list wore on and on and on without end. Heaving a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and straightened his tabard and - still glowering at the door - made his way across tiny upstairs room he’d commandeered as his command post to see what the problem was now. He took a moment to pause, breathe deeply, and put on a less unpleasant face before he pulled the door open. On the other side was a tall, broad shouldered Blood Elf adorned in the same crimson and black regalia as Shahin. He was fair skinned and stern looking, facial features low and thick cut. It took Shahin a few moments longer than it should have to recognize him.

“Ah. Knight-Sergeant Heartwood.” At first, he was relieved to see another one of his own kind; soldiers he understood. They made sense. He could talk to them. Then, another thought struck him. “...if you’ve brought me more paperwork, I swear I’m going to throw you out a window.”

“Sir. I have no reports, sir, but there is an issue in the town square.”

Jolly as ever, thought Shahin as Heartwood grumbled in his usual monotone bass. With a sigh, he gestured for the walking statue of a man to take the lead and pulled the door closed behind him. Whatever was going on couldn’t be nearly as mind numbing as sitting behind that desk. Silver lining! Probably! Both men descended down the staircase and trod through the living space of the small house, doing their best not to even more inconvenience the family that was hosting them. Outside was a bustle of activity; villagers scurried to and fro, led by the nose where they would be needed by militiamen. Children ran and played in the street, their jovial laughter a bizarre contrast to the otherwise dour mood that had settled over the town. As a group of children passed by them playing some kind of game involving a stick and a loop of wood, Shahin was certain he saw the slightest hint of a smile tug at the corner of Heartwood’s mouth.

Down the road, closer to the middle of town, Shahin spotted what he felt was likely their destination. Someone had parked what looked like an alchemist’s shop on wheels right in the middle of the road and that had drawn quite a crowd. As they drew closer to the cart, Shahin was better able to make out the details. At the center of the crowd, standing on the cart proper, was a tall woman with a mane of crimson curls who looked to be gesturing to the many plants scattered on her rolling alchemy shop and explaining them to the villagers. The armor she wore was intricate and looked to be expensive, the silver detailing shimmering in brilliant contrast against the dark red backing. She wore a wide smile as Shahin and Sergeant Statue passed by, too engrossed in her work to give much notice to either of them. Though he didn’t recognize her face, her tabard indicated she was Sunguard.  Clearly there was no need for his presence here; all seemed quiet.

He made a mental note to speak to her later.

Both men rounded another corner and wound deeper into the small village. The nearer they got to the square, the more apparent the problem became. Dissenting voices shouted over one another loudly enough that even a street over Shahin could hear them clearly enough to get an idea of the situation. He breathed in deep through his nose and exhaled slowly through clenched teeth, bracing himself for the argument he knew was literally around the corner. Sure enough, they made the final turn that spilled them out into the town square and were greeted by another small crowd of people standing back toward the fountain at the center of the square while two men stood toe to toe, each shouting over the other. Off to the side, in crimson and gold, was Knight-Adept Autumnlight. She was pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes tightly shut as the two men argued, clearly fed up with the both of them.

Thankfully, Shahin and Sergeant Heartwood arrived before she murdered anyone.

Her head snapped up and around at the sound of approaching footfalls, heels clicking together and arms rigid at her sides. With drilled precision, her right hand thumped against her chest in salute as she barked “Sir!” at their approach. Shahin returned her salute, albeit a little more half-hearted, and gestured for her to stand down. Immediately, the blonde woman’s posture relaxed and she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

“Adept,” Knight-Sergeant Heartwood rumbled, “status report for the Emberward.”

“That won’t be necessary. I think I’ve got an idea of what’s going on here.”

Shahin approached the two arguing men, whose shouting had reached a pitch he was certain only dogs could hear at this point, and drew in another deep breath.

“Gentlemen.” Neither of them answered. Annoyed, he tried again. “Gentlemen.” Still, neither man would stop shouting. Shahin turned over his shoulder toward Heartwood and gestured forward.

“If you would please, Sergeant.”

“That is enough!”

The man’s voice boomed like a bomb had been dropped in the middle of the square and all heads swiveled immediately toward him. Shahin was certain he could have heard a mouse cross the street in the now deafening silence. He smiled warmly and gave a nod.

“Thank you, Sergeant. Now then.” He turned his focus back to the arguing villagers. “My name is Shahin, Emberward of the Sunguard and commander of the Blood Knights presently protecting your village.” Both of them turned toward him and opened their mouths at the same time to try and speak over one another. Shahin held up a hand to silence them. “Let’s keep this civilized, if you please. One at a time.”

The man on the left glowered at him. He was older, thin, and looked like a genuinely unpleasant fellow. Between his callused hands, simple choice of clothing, slightly stooped posture and all around grouchy disposition, Shahin placed him as a farmer.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Wiarrin Firevale. I own half the farms that feed this village.”

“And yours?”

“Jaeth Silversun. I run a store here in town.”

Shahin smiled at the two of them and folded his hands behind his back.

“Much more pleasant. Now then. What seems to be the problem?”

Almost immediately, Wiarrin got right up in Shahin’s face and jabbed a gnarled finger into his chest, making sure to repeat the gesture every few words.

“You are the problem! You and your Blood Knights and your Sunguard! You killed a bunch of those bandits, and now they’ll be back- only this time they’ll be out for blood!” Shahin arched a brow as the old man practically shouted at him. “And now- now that you’ve made this mess, we’re going to suffer for it! You’re asking us to abandon our farms, our livelihood! We’ve spent generations working this land and now these bastards are going to destroy it because you stuck your noses where they don’t belong!”

Before Shahin could even start to open his mouth to speak, Jaeth stepped in.

“Oh, come off it you old goat! They saved our lives and risked their own to do it. These people aren’t the problem, the bandits are!”

“And what would you know about our problems, city boy?! You may be safe here behind your walls, but we ain’t got that! It’s the farmers that suffer most from raids like this. If it wasn’t for them-” Wiarrin jabbed his finger right in Shahin’s face now “-they’d have done what bandits always do. They’d have taken what they wanted and left us alone.”

Clearly this was going nowhere. Shahin cast a sidelong glance at Knight-Sergeant Heartwood, who was unreadable and stoic-faced as ever, and Knight-Adept Autumnlight, who looked somewhere between embarrassed and apologetic. Slowly, his attention shifted from his two Knights to the assembled crowd of townsfolk. In their faces he saw the same things he’d seen his entire life; fear, dismay, sadness, anger, and some smatterings of hope. As the two men devolved into an argument again, Shahin pushed his way in between them and decided to address the group as a whole.

“Listen to me, all of you.” He was having to project a bit to ensure he could be heard over the bickering duo behind him. “You do not know me, but I know you. I have seen your faces before because I was one of you.” Suddenly, the arguing behind him died down. “I was born a farmer’s son in the south of Quel’thalas. I know what it is to live as you do, to live in a state of constant fear. Fear that the crops will not yield enough harvest, fear that the rains will not come, fear that one day a roving band of Trolls will decide that your family suddenly looks appetizing.”

All eyes were on him now.

“Your elder is correct. We bloodied the bandits and now they will be sure to return, angry and seeking revenge. It is the Sunguard’s intent to safeguard your village, but we lack the resources to protect the outlying farmlands. For this reason, yes, we have asked you to relocate. Yes, it is likely your farms will burn and your crops will be destroyed.” A quiet murmur rippled through the crowd. “But farms can be rebuilt. Tools can be mended. Crops can be replanted. Your lives and the lives of your families, however, are not so easily replaced. We are confident we can hold the village against any reprisal.”

“Then why,” demanded Wiarrin, “are you asking our people to fight?!”

Shahin sighed.

“Because the Sunguard won’t always be here to defend your village for you. With all the woes of the world, we cannot keep a permanent force stationed here. Not even a token one.” He leveled his gaze squarely on Wiarrin. “If you learn to defend yourselves, you won’t need us ever again.”

The old man sputtered for a moment, looking indignant as anger rose to his cheeks. “And with what, exactly, are we to fight? Pitchforks? Shovels? We’re farmers! We have no weapons!”

A smile crept across Shahin’s face. He reached toward the Knight-Sergeant with his left hand and silently gestured to his colleague. Within a moment, he had what he needed gripped firmly in his hand.

“With this,” he said, holding it above his head, “the simple spear.” Shahin offered the spear to Wiarrin and gestured for him to take it. The old man warily accepted.

“The weapon you have in your hand has won more wars than any cannon, any siege weapon, any magic, or any knight ever has in the history of warfare. The spear is effective and it’s inexpensive, ranging from something as elaborate as a halberd or a ranseur to something as simple as a sharpened piece of wood. We will teach you to march. We will teach you discipline. We will teach you to fight.”

His attention fell again upon the silenced crowd before him. “Those of you who wish to help form the Silverbrook Militia and learn to protect your homes and your lives may speak with Knight-Sergeant Heartwood and Knight-Adept Autumnlight. We will accept any and all volunteers. If you want a place, we will secure one for you. Those of you who do not wish to pursue this path may do so without reprimand. No one will conscript you.”

The murmur had elevated to a low roar now as the crowd began to talk amongst themselves now. Already a few villagers had begun to step forward and approach Autumnsun, who now looked as much relieved as she was happy. Satisfied that the situation was now resolved, Shahin exhaled a breath and began to casually stroll back the way he and the Knight-Sergeant had come.

“Keep me posted on recruitment numbers, if you please. The Knight-Commander will be keen to know what resources we have available to us.”

Heartwood nodded and, as Shahin rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight, added:

“I thought you were going to throw me out a window if I brought you more paperwork.”

( @sakialyn and @sparklepriest for mentions )

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 275: YAAAAY but Also AHHHHH

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor was all “I’M FIGHTING TOMURA AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME” and set everything on fire. Unlike SOME people, however, it turns out fire is NOT Tomura’s weakness, so he basically just shrugged it off. But before things could progress any further, AFO was all “psst, go get One for All” and Tomura was all “? One for All?” and Endeavor was all “?? One for All?” and Deku and Kacchan, who were listening in on their earpieces, were all “!!!” Having thus realized that Tomura was targeting him, Deku sped off to lead him somewhere away from the civilians... accompanied by his good friend Bakugou “274 chapters of character development have all been leading up to this” Katsuki. Because like hell are you going to have an EPIC BATTLE with the FINAL VILLAIN without him, you damn nerd. Who’s he going to heroically sacrifice himself for if you’re not there?? Hahh!?

Today on BnHA: Deku and Kacchan fly off to battle Tomura after confusing Endeavor into giving them his location (which wasn’t very hard lmao). En route, Deku finally thinks to ask Kacchan why he’s tagging along, and Kacchan is all “DON’T GET ME WRONG, IT’S JUST BECAUSE I WANT REVENGE ON TOMURA, AND DEFINITELY NOT BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU AT ALL, HOW DARE YOU, WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT”, which is super convincing and didn’t make me roll my eyes at all. Anyways so then Tomura shows up and is all “EYO TIME TO KILL YOU NOW” and Deku and Kacchan are all “OH SFFKDFK”, but fortunately Gran shows up to save them in the nick of time, because BnHA is literally the only shounen manga in which grown-ups will see kids trying to lead a battle and be like “lol wtf” and actually try to stop that shit instead of being all “what are your orders, children.” The chapter then ends with the heroes doing EXACTLY WHAT THEY SHOULD BE DOING??Namely, having the guy who can TURN OFF QUIRKS battle the guy with the ultimate death quirk! I’m so proud. But also I swear to god, if Tomura so much as breathes suspiciously in his direction...!! What the fuck. HORIKOSHI.

y’all what in the fresh hell is this bs

not yet there isn’t son but if you keep trolling like this I can give your nervous system something to actually be nervous about

anyway. this was his comment from last week’s issue of Jump, and I have absolutely no idea what it’s referring to, is the fun part! did he cry because of something he was working on in a chapter that’s coming up? or is he just tired from a combination of stressful mangaka schedule + 2020 in general?? or hell, for all I know he just recently watched Titanic or some shit

(ETA: KILLING AIZAWA SHOUTA WOULDN’T MAKE SOMEONE CRY OUT OF JOY, THOUGH. RIGHT?!)

anyways I guess it’s time to read and see if I feel like sadly happily crying for two hours afterward

-- oh shit I just realized there are two scanlations out for this?? one from readjump.com, and one from readheroacademia.com. lol now what. uhhh

lulzes. I guess I’ll go with RHA for now and keep checking back to RJ after each page and I’ll go with whichever translation I liked better

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, OUR MILLENNIAL VILLAIN

or would he actually be gen z. he was already in his twenties when this manga started like six years ago, so I’m going with millennial. but on the cusp though I guess. anyway, he plays video games though is the point

and I see he’s already decided to contradict me and my inane speculations not two panels in! I GUESS I AM JUST A FOOL. that’s really interesting though. I wonder if it’s just Monoma’s quirk that doesn’t take the accumulated “save data” from the people he copies from, then? guh. how many of my AFO/OFA theory notes do I have to scrap now

and there’s a little quirk blurb about Search, which is fairly useless given that we already know how it works (actually in even greater detail than shown here), but at least it comes with a cute little picture of Ragdoll in her hero costume, to make us all sad and stuff

so anyways Tomura who are you looking at?? this was a topic of some contention last week! also why were you only seeing nine people then. Ragdoll had seen everyone in 1-A along with Aizawa and her fellow Pussycats at a minimum, so is this confirmation that Tora and Mandalay and Pixie-Bob are all really dead then, because I CAN AND WILL HUNT DOWN A MAN AND MAKE HIM CRY FOR A GOOD DEAL LONGER THAN TWO HOURS IF THAT’S REALLY THE CASE. was Kouta not traumatized enough already?? LET’S JUST ORPHAN HIM AGAIN WHY NOT THAT’S A GOOD PLAN

(ETA: I really hate that we are still up in the air regarding this? and I mean, sure, why not, we only had like a dozen lady heroes to begin with, so why not just kill off two more of them, offscreen, in one fell swoop??)

WHAT IS A SHAME. TOMURA. DAMN IT

(ETA: ??)

-- well hello there

OR MAYBE I WAS NOT A FOOL AT ALL?? lol guys. please do not tell me my hobo husband is flying his vengeful ass over to where Tomura all heedless of the danger because I really do not need that just yet. CAN MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS PLEASE FUCKING TAKE TURNS BEING IN TERRIBLE DANGER INSTEAD OF ALL AT ONCE

sob we’re cutting back to Endeavor and Deku and Kacchan. ACTUALLY THAT’S GOOD THOUGH why am I complaining. I’m just gonna have to get used to the fact that no one is going to truly be safe for the next god knows however many chapters, and make my peace with that. hahaha. yeah right

lmao Deku. “HEY WHAT’S UP, ME AND MY FELLOW CHILD HERE ARE GONNA LURE SHIGARAKI TOWARDS US, BUT WE’LL EXPLAIN OUR REASONS FOR THAT LATER. IF YOU SEE HIM MAKING ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS PLEASE INFORM US SO AS TO AID US IN THIS PLAN.” Endeavor if you just go along with this I will lose so much respect for you lmao

lol he is trying to argue a bit but then he’s suddenly cutting off. so in hindsight I don’t know why I said “lol”, really. I’M JUST NERVOUS OKAY

btw in the other translation Deku straight up asks if Endeavor can redirect Tomura towards them. “sure no problem bucko, let me just tell the walking apocalypse exactly where he can find you, my two sixteen-year-old interns whose safety I am responsible for. I was just thinking to myself that I hadn’t had my fill of crazy ill-thought-out plans with a high risk of death today”

holy --

okay I have not the SLIGHTEST clue what’s going on here, even after analyzing both scans, except that someone, probably Tomura, either just went CRONCH or just GOT cronched just now lmao. let us read on to find out who was cronched and who did the cronching

the rest of this page is not really much more helpful

but I am becoming increasingly suspicious that those were in fact Tomura’s new, improved and ridiculously thicc legs doing the cronching as he did a Marvel Superhero Landing from the most RIDICULOUS ANGLE POSSIBLE

LMAO NOW WHAT

so he just cronched onto the ground and fooshed Endeavor and then went flying off again huh

LMAO AT EVERYTHINNNNNG

THANK YOU ENJI. HE’LL LURE HIM AWAY. lols WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL THEM WHICH WAY HE WAS HEADED YOU BOOB

he really just fucking hung up on him afterwards too. just, “got it thanks amigo just leave everything to me, [CLICK]”

OH MY GOD

BECAUSE WE CAN’T HAVE ANYONE ELSE CONVENIENTLY INTERFERING WHEN YOU HAVE YOUR LITTLE THROWDOWN OF DESTINY HUH. THAT WOULD JUST BE TERRIBLE

-- oh shit

that’s just. a SLIGHT change in meaning, there. silly me. thinking “get rid of them” meant “get rid of their communications as opposed to FUCKING KILLING THE ONE YOU’RE NOT ACTUALLY AFTER. hmm. well that’s not good

(ETA: never have I been so happy that a translation was wrong lmao.)

so now Endeavor’s shouting at everyone else that Tomura is heading southwest and that he has “SUPER REGENARTION” (sic) and is no longer THE SAME THUG HE WAS BEFORE and yeah RHA you have officially won me over, flaws and all. listen up boyos. this ain’t your granddaddy’s Shigaraki Tomura. this one regenars

also “that damn kid...” like why the hell did my son have to go and befriend two protagonists. why is this my life now

AHAHAHAHA

“MIDORIYA IS IN DANGER...!!” STORY OF THIS MANGA. AHAHA. KACCHAN HE’S COMING. HE’S COMING, KACCHAN. for you two. someone please help me I am both terrified and thrilled beyond all recognition and my body doesn’t know how to handle the conflicting emotions. honestly crying for two hours is starting to sound more and more appealing

oh my god I forgot they didn’t know, though

fff. Kacchan especially didn’t know, because unlike Deku he doesn’t have random bits of other people’s souls going “heyyyyyyy... transcendent being at 12 o’clock.” what has this kid so bravely and stupidly gone and gotten himself into

look at them go

damn Deku can you really not float yet?? that’s going to be really inconvenient if that’s the case

(ETA: my boy really would have just straight up died. he would have died so hard.)

OH MY GOD

NOW YOU WANT TO ASK HIM LMAOOOO. well it’s because of all the character development!! if you must know

THAT’S NOT AN ANSWER BLASTY MCANGERTY

you’re not as smooth as you think you are, you know. we all know why you actually followed him. but fine, be that way

okay so now he’s giving a real-er answer though

“understand the situation”, the situation being that your best friend and his secret-trump-card-in-the-battle-against-evil quirk were being targeted by the guy who just obliterated this entire city. got it. you put it quite succinctly

and Deku is all

and Kacchan is all

love how he throws that protagonist crack in there too. because we all know that Deku absolutely is the protagonist lol, and so if that part’s obviously not true, we can make some inferences about the rest of what he’s saying too now can’t we

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh snap

YOU SURE DO!! and he does with you too!! :) it’s gonna be one big happy reunion! :) :) :) oh gosh golly

OH NO KATSUKI WHAT ARE YOU DOING

what are you doing to me, I should clarify. please be considerate of my feelings. you can’t just DUMP sudden Kacchan Kamino Angst on me without any warning, you have to let me know in advance so that I can buy some thank you cards

THERE’S MOREEEEE???

YOU REMEMBER TOO, DON’T YOU DEKU. HE WAS ALL CRYING AND STUFF. IT WAS A LOT. IT’S POSSIBLE THAT I HAVE NEVER PERSONALLY GOTTEN OVER IT

AND IT LOOKS LIKE HE NEVER QUITE GOT OVER IT EITHER

:’)

by the way in the other translation he says “I’ll make up for what I did that day.” so yeah. BOOM. right to the heart. shot of me collapsing to the ground in slow motion

but it’s interesting though that he still can’t admit to having selfless motives yet! even after everything he’s been through and all his character growth! he’s still all GET RID OF THE REFERENCES TO ME CARING ABOUT YOU, WE CAN’T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE HAVE FEELINGS

but even his Kamino feels are notably first and foremost about him feeling responsible for failing All Might. so yeah, buddy. where does that leave you? even your feeble excuses are still rooted in selflessness, JUST GIVE IN AND ADMIT YOU’VE BEEN SECRETLY GIVING A SHIT BEHIND EVERYONE’S BACK. and honestly he might be better off at this point if he didn’t! BUT HE DOES. and that’s that

anyways Deku I sure hope you and your big hero brain can see right through this nonsense

god. you’re both in so much danger though, do you even have any idea?! of course you fucking don’t. god

HELLO BAKUGOU NARRATION!?!

well that’s one hell of a rare sight!! all fresh and chock full of shrewd observations about his best rival’s current skillset. ah what a time we’re living in

ooooh

gonna hold off commentary until I read the next part of this lol

OOOOOH

goddamn. Horikoshi really went off this week. just a whole chapter’s worth of Stuff Makeste Really Likes, goddamn is it my birthday or what

so do you guys think he’ll be able to keep pace all the way up to 100%? I can see this part being interpreted in two totally different ways if I’m being honest. on the one hand we have the more pessimistic (some would say realistic) view that Bakugou is desperately trying to convince himself that he’s still on the same level as the rival he so desperately wants to surpass, but with the sinking feeling that he’s actually not going to be able to keep up for much longer. and then on the other side of the coin we have the more glass-half-full perspective that he actually is capable of keeping up with him right to the bitter end. that even as Deku grows stronger, he’ll continue to push himself and use that as motivation to keep getting stronger too. that Deku isn’t out of reach; that his goal isn’t out of reach

and I’m not completely sure which way this is leaning myself! I personally would like to lean more towards the second interpretation, because y’all know I love me some rivals. and also because imo one of the most commendable things about Bakugou’s development has been how he hasn’t once been envious of Deku’s strength or of his position as All Might’s chosen heir since he learned about OFA. he hasn’t once shown any kind of resentment towards him for it, or doubted whether or not he deserves it. and as minor a detail as that may seem to some people, I cherish it. and I don’t want that to change! but I guess we shall see

so now we’re getting the clearest shot we’ve had yet of the new AFO holes in Tomura’s palms as he gets ready to combine some more quirks. also! more information about the quirks he has and is using! fucking thank you, where was this last week

so “radio waves” is clearly going to be used here to disrupt the heroes’ communication, which is a shame for them, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved given the alternative! the RJ translation is clearly just a hot mess lol. but I still adore that one “I’ll make up for what I did” line though

WOW

THE DISRESPECT. LOL DID YOU JUST FUCKING KILL HIS ASS

(ETA: I just realized he’s nowhere to be found after this, though, so... did he?? or is he now lying somewhere now all wounded and waiting to be found by one, or, dare I say, two of his sons? ...)

LKDFJLSDKGHOSIDGHOISDflkwejfdfsdklggdflgnfdlgndakgalkgldfdfkwlfwiowelKLDSGKSL:DKGJL:DKFM?G?SGSDLKG?SDFSDF??LKJ@L!

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

even if you ask him nicely??! somehow I just can’t help feeling that he probably shouldn’t oblige you, though!?!?!

anyways. THAT AIN’T SAFE. and what the hell is happening in that bottom left corner ahhhhhh

AHHHHHHH

GRAN DM ME YOUR ADDRESS I WANT TO SEND YOU SOME FLOWERS AND A BASKET OF FRUIT AND CRACKERS AND SOME LITTLE CHEESES AND SAUSAGES

jesus christ it completely slipped my mind that there was one other person currently in the vicinity who knows about OFA. my good sir, maybe you would like to introduce these two dunderfucks to the concept of a “plan.” and maybe you can also find the single shared braincell they apparently dropped and lost somewhere back there in all the city rubble

oh fuck me

(ETA: does Kacchan look so rattled here because he is being lectured, or because he just saw a vision of his own death and is now having it explained to him just how close he came to being decomposed. you decide! I’ll just sit here and bask in the angst.)

fuck. main character gods were really working overtime here. anyways so how are you all doing this fine Friday afternoon. me, I’m just sitting here wrangling with the knowledge that Tomura’s quirk is even deadlier than I realized, and that my two little boys came within inches of dying horrible deaths just now. but anyways it’s not as humid today as it was yesterday so that’s really nice

anyways so now Gran is continuing to lecture the mayor of Dumb Ideas Town here, along with his friend the deputy mayor who still thinks he outranks the actual mayor

SHH NOW AND LISTEN TO YOUR GRANDPA

-- ohhhh shit son are they mounting a counterattack?? don’t tell me!!

also is Gran seriously faster than Tomura. that makes no fucking sense, and yet these two are only alive now because of it so I’M SURE NOT GONNA QUESTION IT

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

AND IS AIZAWA ON HER BACK THOUGH???

AHAHHAHAHAHAHA

AH, BUT IT AIN’T GONNA WORK THOUGH, IS IT!!! AHAHAHA YESSSSSS

excellent question sir. the short answer is “they’re idiots”, and the long answer is just a longer version of “they’re idiots” but with some more complicated BakuDeku feels mixed in. I’ll tell you all about it if you just promise me that you’ll actually live through this, all right?

“is he after the two of them?” listen boy if you don’t finally put two and two together after this I’m gonna be fucking beside myself lol. (though honestly, Deku and Kacchan have been targeted by the League so many other times already that he might just simply accept “yeah they’re after them again” without any further explanation)

my dear gentlefolk would you fucking look at how the lord has blessed us on this day

Aizawa Fucking Shouta and the motherfucking dramatic intro to end all dramatic intros. finally this man gets his moment

someone please teach me how to cast a force field. teach me how to reach into the manga and slap this man and tell him to stop talking about how everyone’s noble sacrifices to protect him and his eraser quirk have led him to this day and to this one encounter. my guy. my fucking dude. THERE HAD BETTER BE SUBSEQUENT ENCOUNTERS AFTER THIS

NOOOOOOOOOOOO

ISN’T HE THOUGH??? Tomura I love you sweetie but you better BACK THE FUCK. OFF

well FINE THEN! BE THAT WAY. it’s not like my life revolves around you and your stupid manga anyway!! it’s not like I’m obsessed with it or anything!! I have other hobbies!! well I actually do have other hobbies, so that doesn’t really work as sarcasm, so let’s see though. maybe something more like, “this isn’t by far my favorite out of all my hobbies!!” I don’t spend 80-90% of my free time on any given day either actively or passively daydreaming about this series and writing essays in my head and reading fanfic and scrolling through art on tumblr!! etc.!! whatever!! enjoy your break!! have fun living your life!!

please don’t kill Aizawa