#he’s angry that this villain has been consuming all of his waking hours

[adaedellta]

Crying over this rn

Au where SBI are heroes and Tommy becomes a villain to spend time with them

Explanation:

Basically Phil, Wilbur, and Techno are all superheroes, the best ones in the city, but because they're so busy saving lives all the time they accidentally start to neglect their youngest, Tommy. So Tommy realizes that the only way to see his family is when they're at work.

The problem is that Phil, Techno, and Wilbur don't want to let tommy become a hero since they don't want him to get hurt

So Tommy becomes a villain instead

Turns out he's a bit too good at being a villain, because his family can never catch him.

Cue his family neglecting Tommy more, but spending more time trying to catch this new villain who just seems to know exactly how to outsmart them.

Tommy realizes that he can be himself around his family when he's the villain, loud laugh, funny jokes that annoy them.. all without the tension and guilt that all of them seem to have around him. So Tommy stops bothering to try and spend time with his family as a civilian, after all, all he needs to do is blow up an entire building and his family will come.

[merakiui]

post overblot riddle being literally horrified when coming to his senses and finding out what he did to you. nobody really knows how to act after that (ace has a thing or two to say, though...)

(cw: mentions of past non-con, continuation of this post)

The tension and the discomfort that blankets Heartslabyul is so thick and tangible you could slice it with a knife. For a dorm that is so bright and vibrant, smelling pleasantly of roses and pastries at all hours, a stifling darkness lingers. No one says anything outright, but they whisper, exchanging secret conversation about what may happen, about how you may be faring, about what will become of their dorm leader. Cater and Trey take charge, though it's mainly the latter who does so in Riddle's absence, attempting to smooth things over in the aftermath. They redirect attention on other matters, namely cleaning up the dorm in the wake of Riddle's Overblot. And anyone who asks about it is given the same answer from Trey and Cater each time: "Right now, let's just focus on getting back to the usual."

But there can't be a "usual." Not right now, at least, and probably not for a while. The sun feels colder and the rose maze is thick and thorny with sin. Someone has to tell him, but no one wants to be the bearer of that news.

Ultimately, it's Trey who sits down at Riddle's bedside in the infirmary to deliver the news a few days into his recovery. Ace had been adamant that he state the facts, cold and brutal, rip the bandage clean off, to prevent any coddling. He's had a lot of words ever since that day, and even though he and Deuce have tried to get into the private room you're currently staying in to recover you turn everyone away. It hurts, but Ace knows the pain he and Deuce feel is nothing compared to all that you went through. The only one permitted to see you is Grim, which is a relief because at least you have someone to keep you company while you talk things through with the headmaster. Ace will be the first one in Crowley's office if he, in his very frustrated words to Deuce, "fucks this up and doesn't help accordingly."

Ace is so angry. Deuce is, too, but there's a part of him that wants to sympathize with Riddle despite the horrible thing he's done. Because Riddle is their classmate, someone who Deuce looks up to, and now his very name is enough to remind him and Ace of that horrible day in the rose maze. There are a lot of conflicting feelings in Heartslabyul, but everyone can agree it doesn't feel the same.

Riddle's face falls as Trey tells him everything, sparing no details but choosing somewhat softer words to lessen the blow. He's not malicious in his retelling and he tries to be stern, but there's no soft way of saying it (and there shouldn't be a soft way of saying it, but Trey cares too much, even when he knows he should be objective right now). Riddle sits there in the infirmary bed, staring at his hands, unable to lift his head to meet Trey's eyes. His expression twists through all manner of emotions. He can't believe it. He, the rule-abiding, always respectful honors student, did something so callous? So brutal and monstrous... And what's more is that he has no recollection of it, his memories of that day falling away the minute blot consumed him. But Trey is serious and truthful. He knows it's not a joke or a lie.

Great Seven, he's crushed.

Riddle can't even sew a simple sentence together, struck speechless with shock and regret and disgust and all sorts of emotions. He's so ashamed and immensely apologetic. He doesn't know where to begin. And though he knows he shouldn't think like this, he can't help fearing what his mother will say and do, what everyone else at school might be saying as he sits here in the infirmary, what the professors will say, how everyone will look at him with revulsion because he's a vile, gross, villainous thing... He's meant to be good and that's all he's ever been, but now he's not. The weight of it all is too heavy; he feels like he might stop breathing if he thinks about everything too deeply. He still can't believe it. It's impossible to think he could ever stoop so low and cruel, to put his hands on you and do something so inappropriate and detestable.

And then there's you. You probably hate him for what he's done, and Riddle understands that well enough because when he looks at himself in the mirror he hates himself, too. Perhaps even more fiercely than you do. And you might be scared of him and you might never forgive him (which in his eyes is fine because he can't forgive himself). You might never want to see or speak to him again, and there's a scared part of him that doesn't want to face you. He knows he must apologize, but then no amount of apologies can possibly undo what's already been done.

For once in his life, he doesn't know how to solve this problem. Because it's not like an equation that can be worked out with a linear process. It's not like a textbook exam, where material can be pulled from the paragraphs and used to better oneself for studying purposes. It's nothing of what he's used to. The situation is delicate and must be treated as such, but he's certain of one thing.

He'll accept whatever punishment comes his way. That is what's fair and right, and Riddle will not argue that. When his own logic fails him and he struggles to come to terms with it, he can be comforted knowing that, in the eyes of the law, he has committed a serious offense and as such it will be punished accordingly. He uses this as a means of slowly working through it all: the situation itself, the impact, the emotions, the thoughts of you and everyone else.

Most of all, if he's allowed to hope and wish for anything, he wants you to feel better. When he cries, it's not for himself. He cries for you because you didn't deserve any of the pain and humiliation he subjected you to. You don't deserve to feel impure and filthy, scared and alone, disgusted with the way your skin fits over your bones after it's been used and disrespected.

An Overblot is no excuse for his behavior; he won't blame his actions on that. It's immature and wrong to avoid the matter at hand. He'll take full responsibility.

[moonsrune]

broken record player - seth, lex, lincoln, killian

broken record player: what regrets does your muse have? if they could go back and change that event / the past in general, would they?

Seth's parents are your typical upper-class hedonists. Therefore, love and attention was pretty much non-existent in the Palmer household. The only thing everyone cared about was having fun and showing off their latest shiny object. Because of this, Seth looked for validation elsewhere. He often found it in bed with women who thought he was prince charming when really, he was the villain in disguise. There's moments in his life when he regrets using people to feed his ego. He caused so much heartache (and even death) in his wake. But then he remembers that's their problem, not his. There's also times of self-reflection when he thinks about his sister Isadora and how he abandoned her for a more private life. He wants to check in on her but he can only imagine all the horrible things she probably told her boyfriend about him. Still, he regrets not being there for the birth of her firstborn child - his nephew. Maybe someday...

One of Lex's biggest regrets is bullying his best friend when he attended Excelsior Academy. Because of his father, Lex wasn't the most popular kid at school. He was wealthier than the rest and treated better because of the power and influence his father had over the school. The special treatment turned Lex into a black sheep. The only person who gave him a fair chance was his friend Duncan - a short, nerdy boy with a passion for comic books and video games. When the cooler kids at school decided to use Lex to steal answers for an upcoming test, he asked Duncan to help him, but Duncan refused. Angry, because he wanted to be popular and thought Duncan was holding him back, the two boys got into a fight which led to Duncan being knocked into oncoming traffic. Lex never forgave himself for wanting something so bad that he was willing to betray the only person who cared about him in order to get it.

Lincoln's biggest regret is getting his girlfriend hooked on V. Lincoln used to have an addiction to vampire blood. He and his girlfriend would drink it, shoot it up, ingest it in any way they could. They would fuck on it for hours. However, one of the side-effects was having dreams (often sexual) about the vampire whose blood you consume. His girlfriend's dreams turned into an obsession and then Lincoln was no longer enough for her. She wanted to make love to a vampire. So she broke up with Lincoln and whored herself out to them. After a few weeks of this, Lincoln received a call from her father letting him know she was found dead. She had bruises and bitemarks all over her body. Who knows what kind of torture she endured before her inevitable death. Lincoln vowed from that moment on that he would kill every vampire he finds.

Killian doesn't know the meaning of regret. He grew up being treated like less than dirt. Everything he done, he did to survive and he won't ever be sorry for that. Even now, the power he wields is only effective because he keeps his blade sharp. He learned early on what happens to weak, submissive people. In an effort to stay on top, he'll become the monster he used to fear. However, there has been moments here and there (regarding Isabelle) where he he's felt pangs of remorse. He doesn't want to treat her the way his father treated him. But he feels like he has to because he's scared of her. If there's one person who can destroy him, its her. One day she'll wake up and realize what he's always known - she's more powerful than he'll ever be.

[knickynoo]

Gonna regret asking this as soon as you answer, but what do you think Marty would’ve done had doc actually died in the parking lot? Like immediately and beyond? And just to spread the pain around, what would doc have done had Marty died by buford’s hand?

This is another one of those asks that got backlogged. Sorry, anon. I've given some thought to these scenarios, though, and, well...I'm sorry. This is gonna be dark.

Had Doc not heeded Marty's warning and actually died (& assuming Marty re-loading the time machine with plutonium and trying to fix things isn't possible for some reason):

Marty would've continued to sit on the cold ground, sobbing for a long while. Einstein would join him, torn between trying to comfort his young friend and whimpering by Doc, trying to get the man to wake up.

Once the initial flood of tears eases, I could see Marty getting angry. Like, the angriest he's ever been. Screaming at Doc, at himself, and maybe finding things in Doc's truck to throw around and destroy. Then another wave of sadness would hit and he'd break down again.

Eventually, Marty would realize he needed to get moving. Someone was bound to see the fire caused by the Libyans' van and also the truck, DeLorean on the street in town, and the man lying dead in the mall parking lot. He'd know that the police would soon be called and that there would be a lot of questions that he'd rather not have to answer, but Marty would be very hesitant to go. He wouldn't want to leave his best friend. How could he? It would be a betrayal. He'd be a coward to run. Doc wouldn't leave him if the roles were reversed. So he'd stay, shivering in the cold night air, trying to figure out what he'll say. What they'll ask him.

After, he'd find a payphone and call the police himself. Upon their arrival, though, he'd lean into his own hysteria and act like he had no clue what happened. Maybe explain he was Doc's assistant and that he'd been asked to come to the mall but he'd shown up late and found the scene as it was already. When it came down to it, Marty would really be too much of a mess to talk to anyone, and the authorities on the scene would just see a distraught kid who needed to get home.

(There's a lot that could probably be said about how things would unfold once Marty got home, but in the interest of wanting to skip ahead, I'll just say that George and Lorraine would be horrified. Scared out of their minds and confused at what had happened. They'd likely do everything in their power to shield Marty from questions and prying eyes in the weeks that would follow)

Oh, right...on top of Doc being dead and Marty having witnessed it (twice!), he'd also have to deal with the whiplash at his suddenly new family. Which would really not be a good situation.

Things would rapidly fall apart for Marty once the dust settled and the reality of things set in. He'd be dealing with a family who all felt like strangers. He'd have no memories of ever having lived with those people. He wouldn't even be able to talk to Jennifer about anything for fear of sounding crazy and scaring her away. His best friend in the world, the only person who Marty felt truly understood him, was gone.

I think some pretty significant PTSD would be likely. Marty would have constant nightmares of Doc getting killed. Of trying and failing over and over to save him. And even with his loving, supportive parents doing all they can, it wouldn't be enough. Marty wouldn't feel a real connection to them or want their help. He wouldn't want Jennifer's help. He'd just want Doc back. He'd torture himself with thoughts of what he could have done differently that night he left 1955 or upon his arrival back to '85. He'd blame himself entirely for not trying hard enough. Not being smart enough or brave enough to have done something to save Doc.

Things would only be made worse as rumors swirled around town. Doc would be solidified as a villain in Hill Valley. A crazy, dangerous man who drew terrorists to their quiet little town and almost got a teenager killed. Marty would have to listen to whispers of people's theories as to what happened that night and hear them express their relief that Doc was no longer around to cause them any trouble. People would shoot Marty sideways glances, either looking down on him for having been acquainted with the deranged scientist or holding pity for him. Classmates would harass and taunt him, wanting to know what happened. Wanting to hear the "real story".

All the while, Marty is consumed by a grief he's unable to escape. He'd probably go one of two ways. Too depressed to function, he'd sort of withdraw entirely from life. Break up with Jennifer, shut his family out, abandon his music, etc. He'd see no real point in trying to make a good life for himself and be too anxious to ever move out of his comfort zone. On the other hand, he could give in to his anger and swing the other way, becoming self-destructive and sabotaging his future--drinking, dropping out of school, and using his fists to deal with any peers who dare to say a bad word about Doc. Either way, he'd be upset at himself because he'd know Doc would want better for him. Expect better of him. But he wouldn't be able to pull himself together because he'd be so stuck having convinced himself Doc's death was his fault.

Where would all of this leave our dear Marty as the years pass? I'm not sure. He'd either spiral totally beyond reach or eventually hit rock bottom and realize that he had to let go of all the sadness and anger and live up to all the potential Doc was always saying he had. At that point, though, he would have lost years to his grief, so getting his life together would be difficult. And...yeah.

That was lovely, wasn't it? Doc's turn!

Had Marty actually been killed by Buford (again assuming using time travel to fix things isn't an eventual option):

I feel like, initially, Doc would skip right past the devastated/crying phase and go immediately to a level of anger he'd never felt before. Do you remember how he acted when Buford was harassing Clara at the dance, especially when she was pushed down? Remember how it took 3 of Buford's guys to hold Doc back?? Yeah, well, take that and multiply it a couple of times.

I think it's quite possible that Doc would attempt to take Buford down right there, which likely wouldn't end well for him. But he wouldn't even care. He was heartbroken already over Clara and then his best friend in the world is killed in front of him. All rational parts of Doc would be gone. And seeing as Buford is, you know, dangerously unhinged and has his little posse with him, Doc might end up getting himself killed a minute or two later as well. In which case...well, that would be the end of this scenario. He and Marty would end up buried next to each other in the Old West.

If Doc somehow managed to survive an encounter with Buford, or if he didn't confront him at all because he was in such a state of shock, I think he'd resign himself to a quiet, lonely life in the 1880s. I'm not sure if he'd stay in town and work as a blacksmith. Maybe? If he wanted the distraction? But he also might move away to a little house and just live off the land.

Not sure how Clara would factor in, assuming she'd return to town to find Doc after getting off her train. I don't know if Doc would push her away, wanting to be totally alone in his misery or if he would cling to her.

Doc would be dealing with a lot of guilt. He'd decide that he was responsible for Marty's death. After all, he'd made the decision to stay in the saloon all night, and Marty had to then track him down. Then he'd taken that shot and passed out, costing them valuable time they could have otherwise used to be well on their way to the train. They could have avoided Buford altogether if it weren't for him, Doc would conclude, and in his mind, he'd essentially forced Marty to have to face the man.

Doc might eventually settle into a routine and go about living his life, but I don't know that he'd ever recover from the crushing guilt he'd feel. Losing Marty would shatter him. Marty was the first person to reach out to him, even with all the rumors and disdain other residents of the town threw his way. Marty liked and accepted him for who he was, something no one else had ever truly done. Marty brought so much good into his life, and in exchange, Doc had done all he could to be there for and protect his young friend--to help him see his own potential. But he couldn't protect Marty, and that failure would hurt more deeply than every other one combined.

Basically, I think that Doc would just lose part of himself after losing Marty. Even if he married Clara and had Jules and Verne and ended up with a nice life, he'd always feel the absence of his friend. He wouldn't ever fully be "Doc" again--more of a subdued, more serious version of himself.

I could see him holding it together for the most part, being a family man, all that stuff. But then he'd have moments where he'd find himself alone and just fall apart. And just to make things extra sad for anyone who's read this far, I imagine Doc taking very frequent trips to wherever Marty is buried, laying a few flowers down, and staying there for hours, crying, praying, talking to himself, or just sitting in silence.

Well. Anyway.

Thanks for the ask?

[bcdwhcre]

“Limits,” Bakugou x Reader

Summary: where Bakugou reaches his quirks limit to save you.

Warning: none just some pain for y’all

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Everyone’s quirk has a limit

The mission wasn’t supposed to go the way it was right now but high schoolers trying to save themselves from the league of villains wasnt exactly going to end up in success.

That’s how you ended up getting caught. Your body grew weak, you have fought for way longer than you should have and it put a strain on not only you but your quirk.

It felt like the fight had been going on for hours and hours. The amount of blood that leaked out from its wounds, the blood dripping down your face, you were beaten and at that point you accepted defeat as the villains hands had grasped onto your arms, trying to hold you upright but you remained slumped over- powerless.

Bakugou didn’t notice right away and that’s the main reason he blamed himself for all the injuries you had gotten. The way his eyes had shifted onto your weak body, his heart stopping in his chest and panic overtaking his mind.

Of course he had always teased you in the past that he wouldn’t save you, he wouldn’t help you, you were on your own. But he didn’t mean that, he would risk his own life if it meant you were safe.

He didn’t want to admit it out loud, or to you but he was more in love with you than you know. The secretive relationship you two have is the reason why he had fallen for you so damn hard and he cursed to himself for letting you get trapped inside his head.

But he wouldn’t trade you for the world.

Bakugou had ran towards where you were, the villain holding onto you only tightened his grip and even held a knife up to your throat threatening to kill you instantly as his red eyes grew angry.

His blood boiled at the sight of that knife against your neck and the way blood had covered your face. He was angry that someone was even brave enough to lay a finger on you, that was their mistake.

He had somehow managed to tackle the villain without hurting you in any way, using his explosions to blast at the guy below him, anger fueling his need to murder the villain.

Anger consumed him and had a tight grip on Bakugou’s head. He didn’t see anything but red as he powered up his quirk beyond its limits, aiming both of his hands at the villain below him with a evil smirk.

The scream that escaped his mouth as the explosion consumed everyone in the battle field, causing a beam of smoke rise up to the sky, looking as if a bomb just got set off.

The explosion had blown most of the students and villains far, causing mostly minor injuries even though the smoke was hot and burned their skin. They were lucky.

After the smoke cleared from the explosion that consumed all the students and the villains, Bakugou’s body had laid out on the dirt, unconscious and weak.

You were barely even conscious to crawl over to him, looking down at his blood covered hands and knew what he had done. He had almost blown his own hands off from overworking himself.

“Katsuki?” You mumbled, barely managing to flip his body onto his back and you shook him gently as the tears started to sting your eyes.

Pain was all you felt shooting through your entire body but you managed to sit up, to lift his body up in your hands and repeatedly shake him, raising your hand to pat his cheek to get him to wake up.

“Bakugou!” You said louder, looking over his body and seen the steam rising off his skin.

You had sat there for ten minutes holding onto him, the pros finally flying in and clearing out the area that was now completely destroyed.

Bakugou still hasn’t woken up but you stayed still, sighing to yourself until you felt a hand on your shoulder and your eyes met with the pro behind you.

“We need to get you both to the hospital.” They said, looking down at the body in your arms and you somewhat nodded.

You had tried to get up but your body had given up completely, making the pros pick the both of you help and send you off to the hospital.

The overwhelming anxiety you had the entire time you sat in your room by yourself. You had convinced recovery girl that Bakugou deserved to be healed up first, you can wait and she agreed.

But it’s been hours since you got an update on him and it was making you more paranoid by the second so you managed to get out of bed and carefully walk down the hall, holding onto the wall for support until you made it to his room.

Once you walked inside, you noticed he was still sleeping and you dragged a chair up to the bed, sitting down and looked down at the bandages wrapped around his hands.

“Fucking idiot.” You mumble to yourself, shaking your head from how hard he had pushed himself to the point of being like this.

It pissed you off but it always made your heart break the more you looked at him. Your eyes started to sting, laying your head down on the bed and took in a deep breath to keep yourself from crying.

“Who’s the idiot?” You heard a mumble, looking up and noticing Bakugou red eyes on yours.

“Katsuki, you scared the hell out of me.” The way your emotions had washed over you at the sight of his eyes staring into yours.

The tears instantly streamed down your face, leaning over the bed and hugging onto him even though the both of you were in a good amount of pain but he didn’t say anything, he needed your tight embraces.

“You scared me first.” He admitted, reaching the bandaged up hand to wrap around your back and hugged onto you just as tight.

“Shouldn’t have overwhelmed your quirk like that, you idiot.” You mumble, pulling back to stare down at him and he cracked a smile, his face beaten and bruised.

“Yeah, shouldn’t have lost your fight.” He teased you, making you roll your eyes, not wanting to hear his sarcastic remarks.

“Please,” You scoffed, your fingertips brushing through his blonde hair as it pressed down on his head and he let out a breath of relief, relieved that you were fine.

“Don’t scare me like that again, Y/N.”

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This came to my head randomly today, decided to type it out even tho I have a shit ton of requests 💆🏼‍♀️

• Main Masterlist •

• MHA Masterlist •

[divinewhimsy]

Ichor (DabixReader)

SO I’m trying my hand at this whole writing thing again. What better way than to start with some Dabi from MHA? Eh? Ehhhh? PleaseenjoyIdidmybest*sobs* 

Trigger warning: Blood, Swearing

Quirk: BloodType. Clarification; Your blood can boost quirks. Just one drop can give immeasurable strength and stamina to the one who devours it. It’s a gift as much as it is a curse. So long as you are consumed in some function you can give from even the driest of wells. But blood is always the strongest medium.

You use your quirk to help, to heal- unconditionally and without a bias. Which has worked out fine until you help a certain raven haired patchwork back to health. That’s probably where it all went wrong, if you’re being honest with yourself.

Part 2: X

Part 3: X

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Enjoy~!

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Your blood can boost quirks. Just one drop can give immeasurable strength and stamina to the one who devours it. It’s a gift as much as it is a curse. So long as you are consumed in some function you can give from even the driest of wells. 

But blood is always the strongest medium. 

It makes having a quirk almost as useful as not having one. Without others knowing about you or your gift, you’re just as helpless as the other civilians- if not more. If someone were to find out about your quirk and want to use it for themselves then kidnapping would be the least of your worries. 

So being a hero is out of the question. That doesn’t stop you from wanting to help others, though. You help- just in a more mundane way. And you don’t discriminate. Hero, Villain, bystander. Status in the world doesn’t matter. 

And with a quirk like yours, staying under the radar is a must. 

But where’s the fun in that? 

You dodge debris as it explodes from behind you, a battle between a hero and villain erupting back to the sky. Neither of them even noticed you hiding behind a half destroyed pillar of concrete. 

Good. 

You dash over the hill of rubble and slide down it quickly. Your heart is hammering rapidly in your chest with adrenaline. They’d just whisk you away if a hero caught you. If a villain did, though, death is the most probable. If not using you as a hostage. 

When you see the pool of red spilling from a smaller pile of rubble your stomach churns unpleasantly. It’s a hard truth to face when you realize you can’t save everyone. Sometimes you’re just too late. 

But not this time. 

You refuse to let this one die. 

Your small hands brush away what rubble you can and free the body beneath. It’s a man- covered in dust and stones from some kind of explosion. His skin is still sizzling with heat and you wince when you notice his burned skin. Yet...they had to have been from before. There’s no way those burns would look so old if they were new. Debris or not. 

Either way he’s losing blood too quickly. You free him and throw your satchel open, scrambling through it for bandages to treat his wounds. You could use a bit of blood- or just kiss him, probably. But he’s a stranger! 

‘And it might not be enough’, you sigh to yourself as your pant legs start to soak up some of his blood. 

Ugh. You hated using your quirk outside in the open. Normally you’d bring bags of excess blood with you but of course today of all days you forgot to pack some. 

That settles that then. You grab the scalpel in your satchel and let it hover over your wrist. You can do this. Sure, it hurts for a bit but your quirk heals the scars you make yourself. Like it knows deep down this is for someone else. 

You summon what’s left of your confidence and slice through your skin. Your eyes squeeze shut at the burning sensation that crawls through your arm and through your body. Each second is a hiss of you biting back cries and squeeze your wrist until the blood starts to spill out. It’s the teeth biting the inside of your mouth to keep the tears from falling. 

It doesn’t work, of course, but you try not to cry anyways. 

When you get enough of a flow going you press your wrist to the mans mouth forcefully. At first your blood only dribbles down into his mouth but after a moment his breathing starts to regulate. His lips twitch and latch onto your wrist painfully, drawing your blood into him greedily. When his wounds start to close up and stitch over themselves his tongue swipes along the cut hungrily but you’re able to pull your arm away with enough force. 

His eyes flutter open, his breathing hard as he gasps for air. 

You’re stunned by the color his eyes are. Two beautiful turquoise crystals sit in his skull. Two pieces of a brightly lit sea stare back at you. Even though he has scars and burns on multiple parts of his body- staples and pieces adorning them almost like medals- they don’t take away from his beauty. The innate charm and charisma that makes up his very body is intoxicating. 

You could sit and stare at him for hours. 

Until you realize he’s trying to talk to you. He waves a burning blue hand in your face and you blink back to reality. 

“Woah- Uh- Yes?” you swallow nervously. 

He doesn’t get another chance to speak, though. The battle above continues on and a massive shock wave plummets to the earth. Everything shakes and the rubble around the both of you threatens to crumble even more. 

“Move!” the dark haired stranger snaps and a blazing warm hand slaps down on your wrist as he yanks you to your feet. 

You stumble to keep hold of your satchel as he drags you along. 

You’re thankful for it as you watch what would have happened. 

You escaped just in time as the remainder of the  building that had fallen comes crashing down. A heavy block of metal and cement landing right where you two had just been. 

You almost just died. 

The rush is amazing. 

The stranger doesn’t stop to dwell on the adrenaline from the crash and continues running. His feet pelt against the uneven ground and you find your feet placing themselves underneath you as you fall into step behind him. 

You’re not sure if it’s the fact he just saved you or the fact you saved him that keeps you close to him. Or, you know, his hand grasping your wrist. Totally possible. 

Following him is a decision he made for you at the beginning of this and you’re just along for the ride. Wherever that may take you. 

Right now it’s looking like he’s taking you to an abandoned building only a block or so from the fighting behind you. The stranger shoulders the broken door aside and yanks you through the gap just as you feel the ground shake again and loud crashing noises somewhere in the center of the battle. 

Honestly, maybe you were a little scared. The adrenaline winding down as your eyes adjust to the darkness and then to the bright blue light as the man ignites his hand in blue flames. 

They’re just as blue as his eyes. It’s hypnotic, almost. They surge wildly between his fingers like a warning. A growl of a monster waking up slowly. 

“What the hell did you do to me?” he hisses and you flinch away from him out of habit. 

Ah, that’s right. You saved him with your blood. 

“I saved you.” you try to swallow the dryness in your throat away but it doesn’t work. 

The angry gaze he throws back your way doesn’t make his following silence any better. Does he not believe you? What more of an answer could you give?

“From dying.” you say stupidly and immediately wince as he takes a deep breath. 

He turns away from you and runs his free hand down his face. With a shake of his head he turns to survey the room and starts walking toward one of the back windows. He pries the rotting wood from over the glass and dusty, yellow light floods into the large- and ruined- room. 

You fiddle with your hands, anxiety crawling through every vein in your body as he stomps around in silence. You watch as he shifts through the remains of a couch and dresser, searching. 

“I-I can help.” you offer meekly. “What are you lookin for?” 

He pauses and lifts his eyes to yours sardonically. His hands drop the piece of wood in them and he turns on his feet quickly, stalking towards you at his full height.

And god is he taller than you realized. Or maybe it’s the fact he’s not saying anything. Or that you realize just how small you are in the grand scheme of things. 

No matter the reason, you know you’re prey. And the man before you is one hundred percent a born and bred predator. 

Dangerous doesn’t even cover the entirety of who he is. It’s spoken like secrets on late summer nights with humid heat rolling into the air around him. Volatile and unkempt savagery make up every bone in his body. The bored facade he wore before is a deadly snare to enrapture and mislead. 

“Help?” he echoes. “Whatever you did to me wasn’t help enough, hero?” 

Your lips tremble with a laugh you’re trying to fight back. You? A hero? Definitely not. Not when you laugh at the most inappropriate times- like right now.

When your giggle gets released from your lips he seethes. His eyes burn brighter with living flames held within, an inferno devouring you with every thought he has. 

“You really don’t want to mock me, princess.” he growls and you shake your head. 

“I’m not, I promise.” your giggles die down. “It’s just funny. I’m not a hero.” 

He squints his eyes, unease spreading through his gaze. 

“Really!” you assure. “I can’t be. I don’t have any of the training or certifications and I don’t want them. I just want to help people. So I snuck onto the battlefield and when I came across you I knew I had to do something. So I did what I do best and I gave you my blood-“ 

Uh oh. 

Oh no. 

You just said it. You told him. 

“Your blood?” he raises a brow suspiciously. 

Of course he would catch on to it. 

    You’re not getting out of this.

“Uhm, y-yes. It’s a part of my quirk.” you swallow nervously. “I can boost a body's system and quirk if they devour some of my blood. Or other substances...But blood is the strongest.” 

He looks at you incredulously but there’s a flicker of something that sets a fire of unease inside you as his lips twitch into a smirk. The scheming look in his eyes let’s you know something’s brewing inside his mind. 

“So you’re a support quirk.” he says quietly but his eyes don’t look a fraction below the wicked fury he held moments ago. The way they trace the outline of your body brings a shiver of heat up from your blood and to your skin. 

The devouring gaze is enough to let you know the devious thoughts the man is playing through his mind. 

“Whatever you’re thinking won’t work.” you say sternly and your brows furrow in annoyance. “It only works when I want it to.” 

“So you have control?” he sneers. “You couldn’t have studied and worked with it that extensively-“

He barely gets to finish his words before you grow impatient, your anger jutting out beneath the surface of your bones and into your blood. Into your very will. 

“I can take it away.” you hiss and he wobbles unsteadily. “Now that you have my blood I can decide if I let it remain or not. Don’t be ungrateful.” 

The surprise in his gaze is only temporary as he clutches his torso tightly. 

“Point taken.” he seethes, air hissing through his teeth as you only allow a little bit of the healing to trickle back. 

“You mistake me for weak but I’m not trapped here with you, villain. You’re trapped in here with me.” you growl and clench your fists at your side. 

His beautiful cyan eyes pour into your own gaze, his face as blank as it had been before. He’s used to controlling his own emotions. But with enough pain even the most emotionally trained individual loses control. 

You’re not that sadistic, though. You let him maintain some pride as he stands back up shakily. 

“Interesting.” 

“Our business is done.” you say, confidence filling your whole body. “I saved you, you saved me. So I’ll be on my way.” 

“And if I don’t let you go?” he chuckles darkly. “Blood or no, you’ve already boosted me. Do you think you can run in time? Or take back what you’ve given?” 

Maybe your bluff wasn’t as strong as it should have been. But you think you’ve been in more dangerous situations before. Probably. 

The way his eyes pierce through your soul is hauntingly terrifying. It’s as if he knows the boundaries of your quirk. The parts you haven’t learned to control yet. It’s not like you’ve ever had that many chances to. 

“It’s your life.” you huff. “I’ve let others die without a second thought. You’ll be no different.”

That’s a lie. You’ve given everyone at least a little hope. A drop enough to make the decision their own. Or decided by fate. But leaving someone to die purposefully? The guilt would gnaw at you until the day you died yourself. 

He weighs your words for a long moment. The silence is almost too heavy as you hold your ground, refusing to let your limbs shake with the fear you’re eating. 

“If you really wanted to hurt me,” you add. “Wouldn’t you have done so already? Or are you that afraid of this power surging through your veins? Of what I can do and what I can take?”

He glares as you force a smirk on your face. You’ve got him questioning himself now. Good. It’s buying you time. 

Time enough to slowly drain him down until he’s collapsing on the floor. It drains you like a humid day in the middle of summer with no air conditioning, your limbs and mind groggy beyond comprehension. But if you focus just enough, if you keep your goal at the front of your thoughts then maybe you’ll be able to subdue him. 

With a shaky breath he tries to wobble forward and falls to the floor. You gasp for air as he hits the ground, your body heavy with use of your quirk. 

You can’t control it for long. It whittles down your energy like a quickly sinking ship. Submerged in water and treading through it, thrashing about to maintain consciousness. It always wears you out. 

And now you have a very much unconscious stranger who knows your secret. And you’re stuck in an abandoned building with him while a battle continues outside. 

Carrying him is out of the question but you can’t leave him here. You need to tie him up so he can’t tell others about you. Or track you down. If others knew about your quirk and word got out it would be difficult to keep the little slice of peace you’ve carved for yourself intact. 

The only plan that comes to mind is to carry him, as much as your body aches at the thought. Maybe you can get to a road and catch a taxi and pass him off as a passed out drunk. It might be difficult but if others bought it…

“Hello? Is anyone in here?” a voice calls from the outside. “I’m here to help!” 

Help? A hero? Damn, someone must have seen you two run in here. 

“My hero saw some civilians run in here and told me to escort you to two to safety!” the voice continues and you glance at the strangers limp body. 

“Yes!” you call out before you can stop yourself. You quickly wrap some bandages around the strangers head and face and cling to his shoulder. The more it looks like you two were together the less questions this sidekick would have. 

And they might even help you get him to your apartment. 

The sidekick squeezes through the gap in the doorway in the front of the house and you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s a smaller woman with unruly dark hair sticking to the sweat on her forehead. She gives a small smile in response and glances from you to the man on the ground.

“Oh no! Was he hurt in the crossfire?” she frowns and steps closer. You steel your nerves. You have to look frightened but not outright afraid of her. She’s a hero, she’s supposed to make you feel relieved. Not scared. 

“Ah, yeah, a bit.” you mumble and glance down at him. “I’m a med student though so I patched him up. H-he was walking me home from class when this all happened.”

God you hope she believes you. Even as she surveys his wounds and the new bandages your heart thumps away in your chest with every passing breath. It looks believable, right? It has to. There’s no reason it shouldn’t. 

“You should still get him to the paramedics.” her brows bow with concern. “I can lead the way, follow me! Everything’s going to be okay!”

“Oh thank you!” you beam and she helps you hoist him up between the two of you. 

Every step is nerve wracking. The closer you get to the paramedics the more you panic. What do you tell her? Can you make an excuse for them not to look at him? He had to be a villain. He might be working with the one already battling the hero. If they recognize him and you admitted to being with him then you might get arrested… Ah, your stomach churns nauseatingly fast as you rack your brain for an idea- any idea. 

Your miracle comes in the form of a loud crash as the hero gets thrown to the ground only a few feet from the recovery zone. 

“Quickly, run!” the sidekick shouts and shoves the stranger onto your back. “You have to get out of here!” 

You nod and don’t fight the order, running with the others who had been waiting at the safe zone. It’s a crowd of chaos amongst the battle and it’s providing deliciously sporadic coverage for your escape. In the hustle to get away from the battle and with the sidekicks and heroes all busy you’re able to slip away into the alleyway and start hoofing it back home.

If only the man didn’t weigh so much. Where was he keeping all of it? He didn’t look that heavy standing! It had to be hidden in his dark jacket and pants somewhere or behind his distressed white v-neck shirt. He was packing a punch underneath the radar and you were more than glad to have avoided a close combat fight with him. Especially when his body was eerily warm. Unusually warm. Even with a boosted body and quirk from your blood his body temperature was beyond any normal humans. 

Was it part of his quirk, then? The blue flames that danced from his skin in searing and flickering fire? It must be. You’re sure it is. 

Almost. 

Yet...You’ve never experienced accidentally overpowering someone with your blood. Had you fed him too much and it flooded his system? Is that even a possibility? Maybe… Haven't you heard it said somewhere that it's possible to have ‘too much of a good thing’? If you gave him too much then it really did seem like you’d done something nefarious to him. 

No wonder he was suspicious. 

Regardless, you’d only tried to help. There’s nothing wrong with that. A helping hand, although eager and perhaps overbearing, is still a helping hand after all. 

You manage to drag him to your apartment without any incidents. Keeping mostly to the darker shadows of the evening you hurried as quickly as you could while carrying him. The sooner you got this stranger behind closed doors the better. You’re not sure how long he’s going to be passed out for. Even if you used your blood to put him in this resting state there was no way to tell how long he would be staying in it. 

You shovel him onto your couch with a wince and straighten your back. If you aren’t careful you might pass out yourself. Which would be really, really bad. You can’t put yourself in that position- especially with how he reacted towards the end. If he’s going to be violent then you need to be painfully prepared to deal with that. But how?

Tying him up will only give him kindling for that fire quirk of his. What would be a good way to make sure he stays put? Steel Wool around his wrists? No, that could melt, right? He’d just burn through any rope or cloth you used to bind his hands. Maybe if you got it wet first? It’d only delay the burning. Oh! You could put him in the shower! All that water would be sure to keep any flames out! 

As you glance down at the man on the couch you can’t imagine picking him back up. No shower, then. Which is good because the idea of putting someone in the shower- even if they’re fully clothed- makes you feel ridiculous. But what other option do you honestly have? 

You groan and shake your head. You’re an idiot. An absolutely stunningly naive idiot. Impulsive! Idiotic! The shame in your mind travels through your bones until you crouch on the ground and try to contain all the unruly emotion in your body. The wicked whips that arch out of your skin in invisible hands. They try to bind you down until you’re stuck there. Holding your throat tighter and tighter with every suffocatingly stupid replay of your day thus far. 

What are you even thinking? Bringing him here?? To where you live? What part of keeping everything underwraps did your stupid brain not understand?! How is bringing a villain to your very private and very unknown home a good idea?

You should have taken him somewhere else. Literally anywhere else. Or just moved entirely. Uprooted everything you have here and just booked it. Actually, that’s still an option. You can leave him here and just run right now. What’s holding you here? 

You glance at the man and heave a sigh out of your lungs. Fantasies will be nothing more than silly ideas. Appeasing them will bring you nowhere. Running will do nothing for you and you know that. Really, you do. Reality is just hard to accept and acting before you think is a common issue. But you can’t regret what you’ve done. Not yet when there’s still time to salvage what's left of this mess. Even if it feels like more than you can handle. 

Especially as the man starts to stir. 

Well shit. 

[goldeneyedgirl]

charity fic: all in the stars

So, some of you might be aware of the Move to Higher Group fan-zine that was being put together. It is an awesome project and I cannot wait to see the final product. 

I’ve decided to release my fic independently, with the same goal of raising money for the Quileute Tribe’s Move to Higher Ground Project. There is an amazing post right here by lemonadebottlecap that covers the history of the tribe and the misconceptions that Twilight spread - I’ve also reblogged that right below here. 

So I will cheerfully suggest and implore you to donate to the Move to Higher Ground Project - even just $1 would be amazing. 

I’m not asking for anything for the fic, but in the spirit of the zine and the fandom renaissance, please consider it. <3

Onwards to the fic

all in the stars.

Mary-Alice doesn’t speak much. She hasn’t for a long time. Mostly, she rocks and murmurs and stares. Sometimes she cries or shrieks, but that happens less and less since the doctors started her on the shock treatments. She shivers and stares and mutters, and the staff leave her well enough alone. Mostly.

(Matron hopes she dies this winter, she heard her say it to the nurse; she’s a fragile thing, all bird bones and sharp edges from her body eating away at itself. Her lungs rattle and her chest aches and her head always hurts and she knows that, one way or another, death is coming. It won’t take much to send her on her way.)

The nights are bitterly cold, and she shivers as she stares out the tiny barred window at the stars. No one knows what she’s looking for, or looking at; she’s been having treatments so long, and lived in the dim gloom of her cell for so many years, that her eyesight is greatly degraded - if she were free, she would be considered legally and irreversibly blind. But she stares, right at the stars, as if she’s searching for something.

(Her sight in the real world is nearly gone - she sees shapes and the shift of shadows, but everything is quite smeared, like looking through deep, murky water. But her other sight, of things that are to be and things that could be, that is still as sharp as ever, even if it doesn’t always make perfect sense.)

When she eats, she struggles to focus on her tray, to judge space and distance. Some of the orderlies laugh at her fumbling (hands shaking, eyes squinting, tiny body hunched over her singular meal of the day) and she is left to try and feed herself, barely managing to consume half before she has spilt it everywhere, or she gives up out of frustration and exhaustion, out of disgust of the taste of turning milk, of cooling animal fat and rancid vegetables. When she is taken to her treatments, and sessions with the doctors, she tries to guide herself with one thin hand on the wall. Mostly, she’s manhandled - dragged into the rooms with the report she was being ‘difficult’ and the unspoken promise of punishment, or ferried about in an ancient wheelchair.

(She used to count her bruises like the constellations in the sky, blooming black and blue, purple and green. Her very own Aurora Borealis. Back then, they were just needle sticks. Then they stretched out, wrapping painfully around her torso, her thighs. They swelled with blood and kept her from sleep. They made her easy to manipulate, fingers roughly pressing down on a raw spot to make her bend to their will. Now the bruises don’t fade, they linger - overlapping and constant, and it’s too hard to see them to bother counting them. She cannot tell the difference between a shadow and a bruise now, anyhow - her cell is dark, her eyes are dying, and there is always pain, no matter where she touches on her skin.)

Elias arrived (arrives? Sometimes the passage of time is hard to track) sometime ago. He was… he simply was, in the beginning. Another set of hands moving her around, sticking her with the needles, frowning and judging and damning her. And then one day, for no reason at all, he brought her an extra blanket and wrapped her up tight against the cold. He brought her cold tea, over-steeped and bitter on her tongue, but insisted she drink it. He looked at her with eyes that had seen too much, had tried and failed and run right through every ounce of hope and benevolence he could manage, so he had given up. Until now (then?).

(She knows she would have died that night, from the cold of the night and the shock of the ice bath, for want of a blanket and something to drink. Except he swept in, with his red eyes and the clean blanket and bad tea and held her hand in his, his gloves warming her skin. He stayed, she lived, and the future went spinning off into a kaleidoscope of possibility, lighting up her mind. She’s already lost her words by then, but she wants to tell him, however this all falls together, she forgives him and thanks him for his kindness. That she knows what he is, what he has done, and it is not her place to pass judgement on anyone, man or immortal.

That any kind of light in the dark is a beautiful thing, no matter how long it is lit.)

—

To say she dies when Elias bites her, when he presses venom into her wrists and throat and prays to a god he hasn’t believed in for many years, is a fallacy. It is a polite lie, a bedtime story for children. It is fiction designed to absolve the villains of the piece - doctors in clean, white coats; nurses with shark-smiles and vindictive natures.

(She has died a little every single day since her parents sent her to the asylum. That is true, if quite dramatic.)

What killed her, truly? It might have been the distracted nurse, overzealous in her dosage; it could have been the blow to the head when she fell against the desk in the doctor’s room, shoved by an irritated orderly in charge of shepherding her around. It might have been the addition of an imprecise voltage or two from a dismissive doctor. It might have been all those things bleeding together. But by the time Elias bites her, changes her, there is very little of Mary-Alice Brandon left - just a failing body struggling so hard to make it to the next hour, minute, second. Her heart thumps slowly, her lungs rattle with oxygen, her eyes glassy and unseeing. She does not know what is coming for her, and how Elias intends to protect her.

(If she could speak, she would talk of the change like being in the middle of space, of watching the rush of stars and galaxies, of colours and combustion and the swoop of the unknown, great and terrible. It was like being a tiny spot of dust in an expansive, ornate concert hall - terribly insignificant and in the presence of true greatness. But she is far enough gone that she doesn’t even know of the Hunter that stalks her, doesn’t know that when she wakes, she will be a brand new girl, an entirely new person who will be able to speak and think and run and see.)

It happens exactly how it is supposed to. Elias is old enough to know the tricks, to leave a false trail miles long that sacrifices more than one innocent, maybe a mad little inmate or two, as he carries Mary-Alice to sanctuary. She is an easy burden, still and silent, and Elias continues his futile pleas to god that this will work, and she will be born anew, and he won’t have immortalised her misery and suffering. In his long life, he has never seen an impaired vampire, one that has carried their damage and their disease over into eternity, and he hopes Mary-Alice will not be the first.

(Her galaxies surround her, in black and navy blue, violet and emerald. Rich gold, too bright to look directly at, streaks across the endless space. The stars wink at her, and some of them blink out - futures that are not hers to have, she decides. The light of the remaining stars is warm on her face and limbs, fills her chest to bursting, and she wants to cradle them in her arms, hold them tight forever.)

—

They nearly make it, you know. One day, two days, the third day dawns with no sign of the Hunter; not a scent on the breeze or the still of the woods. Just little Mary-Alice’s thin little breaths and faltering heartbeat, curled into a ball of blankets in the grass. Elias’ hand strokes her hair, and he remembers another sickly girl, brittle and dying. Long gone, in a forgotten grave in a corner of the woods an ocean away. It makes him feel ashamed, like he only helped Mary-Alice to fit her into the place left by another; that he is not so good to help her simply because of her suffering. But in truth, why else pick her, of all of the poor souls in that ward?

(Her old self is almost gone, as the stars slowly decline and the colours begin to fade. She cannot excuse his motivations when she does not know him or remember him. Or remind him why he was precious and good and kind to her. In her memory, his star has blinked out and gone, another lamp extinguished.)

She whimpers then, and it is their undoing - he is startled by her sudden noise; hope and concern knotting in his chest as he leans over her. It is also enough for a lurking Hunter, downwind to surprise his target. He is angry, a rippling red rage, at being tricked and turned around - at his precious quarry being snatched from under his nose and the stench of Elias’ venom taking hold of her blood. The Hunter is no loser; he is his own champion, one that takes sick delight in broken, bloodless girls whose throats are raw from screaming, and whose bones never fit back together right. One that has lost the battle but will win the war, and salt the earth just to spite Elias.

(In her last seconds, Mary-Alice sees. She sees Elias and the Hunter locked in battle; she sees Elias’ destruction and then she sees the Hunter come for her, still lost to the change. She sees what he does to her, how he mutilates and breaks her to punish her saviour, who is already ash in the air. And as quickly as the images press around her, they are gone, like confetti in the air.)

Elias is angry, angrier than he has been in a long time as the Hunter is upon them, and he drags the Hunter away from his charge’s prone body.

(Just a little longer. A little more time…)

—

She has a choice to make now; one she won’t remember. There are only a handful of her stars left, and she needs to pick one.

(She sees herself rise, red-eyed and confused but determined. It’s an easy trail to follow, watching the Hunter feed broken limbs into his fire with a smirk on his face and delicious plans for the girl in the glade. He’s taken the other man’s coat, and that strikes rage into her heart. He doesn’t have time to turn around before she has his head off and into the fire. She crouches in front of the fire, and watches carefully as it burns lower. It’s only when she’s left with ash and smoke that she rises, feeling heavier and sadder than she thinks she should be able to feel and slips off back into the forest, to a future yet to be decided.)

No, she doesn’t want to be sad anymore. She was sad before, she’s tired of sad.

(She runs south. She runs through the forest, faster and faster, to escape the one that is coming for her. When she stops running, she hides. She’s frightened, fearful, like a hunted rabbit. Her heart is quiet, but it still feels like it wants to burst from her chest in fear and she is completely and utterly lost, in all the ways that someone can be and she doesn’t know what to do.)

She doesn’t want to be afraid either.

(Golden eyes. A warm smile, one that makes her feel like her chest is full of starlight again. A scar on his neck that her fingers worry over, as if she can protect him from the pain. A kiss on her nose, her cheek, the corner of her mouth before his lips graze her ear.

“I love you, Alice. Irreversibly and forever,” he murmurs and, and…)

That one. That’s her. She’s Alice; she gets to be Alice, chooses to be Alice - Alice who is happy and loved and safe and precious. Alice, who loves him more than anything in existence. She could burst with how much she loves him. She could have a million choices, a million stars, and that will always be the one she chooses and holds tight.

(“Forever.”)

—

And she opens her eyes, clear and bright and ruby-red. She spies the moss and the ferns, her discarded blankets, the bugs in the dirt. She sees feeble light of dusk pushing through the trees. She smells water and dirt and trees and … smoke.

(“Alice.”)

Getting to her feet, her throat burning and her mind too full of everything that is new and unknown around her, and the ominous promise of the smoke hovering in the air, she holds the image of the man with the golden eyes in her mind and she begins to run.

(“I love you.”)

She runs North with nothing but hope and a name, spoken by the one who loves - or will love (she forgets that time moves differently when you can’t see what’s coming) - her best. She runs away from disaster, from pain and fear and sadness, and everything she came from, a brand new girl on her way to a brand new life.

(“Irreversibly and forever.”)

—

[toomuchponytail]

Please do a part 4 of the poisoned hero!!!!!!!

Your wish is my command, (I am so glad you’re liking it!!!) 

Continued from here (pt. 1, hero drugged at a club) here (pt. 2 The antagonist fights some guys in an alley while hero’s world warps) and here (pt. 3 where the antagonist takes some risks to save hero with the help of sidekick). 

I hope you have a day full of vast and unending potential, in other words I hope you have a day. 

Be great, be sweet, be you! :D 

At some point, hero could never say if it was hours or days, it felt like years passed with him locked inside with the panic,  the mind bending fear that had completely consumed the hero in the alley began to abate. 

It happened slowly at first, the stark white room filled with horrors from his own imagination started to look transparent, the smell, like rotting fish mixed nauseatingly with his father’s cologne seemed to be fading to the bitter but altogether wonderful smell of cold stale coffee. 

Hero didn’t remember falling asleep, all he could remember were the horrors and then the feeling of waking. 

Hero struggled to open his eyes, his entire body ached, tremors ran through his sore muscles, he felt like he’d  just gotten over a  bad fever, weak and trembly.

He was bone-tired, but that didn’t keep out the confusion, it dawned on him that he wasn’t in that place anymore, wherever it was, the stark white room full of nightmares was gone, he could have wept in relief. 

He had enough sense about them to realize that he was not at home, he was in a laboratory of some kind, laying on a long metal table, the metal felt refreshingly cool against his too warm skin. 

The antagonist was sitting across from them, it had taken hero a moment to blink the blurriness out of their eyes to see them there, they were mixing something in a small vial, swirling and noting the color change, hero shook his head, trying to clear out the confusion, it felt like his head was full of pond scum, all mucky and off. 

The antagonist didn’t see him, they were completely focused on their research, swirling the contents and frowning to themselves. 

“Hey there partner,” Sidekick was suddenly in focus, they took hero’s hand with some hesitation, but when hero didn’t snatch their hand back they sighed in relief, “We were worried about you.” 

“We?” Hero croaked, surprised at how weak and raspy their voice sounded. 

“Yeah,” Sidekick swallowed, “You were out of your mind, panicking, the Antagonist saved you.” 

At hearing his name the antagonist looked up, setting his oddly colored puzzle on the counter his frown of concentration being replaced by a good natured smirk, “Hero, I’m glad you’re awake, Your inability to hold your liquor has made quite the mess of your ‘time sensitive problem’ thank god I didn’t listen to you when you told me to get lost.” 

“You never listen…”The hero grumbled, grinning weakly “…Thank you.” 

Hero started to sit up, sidekick helped to keep them steady, “Now that we’ve dealt with pleasantries,” sidekick interjected, “Did you find out what was in hero’s drink?” 

A ghost of the frown returned to the antagonist’s face, he shrugged, “I actually didn’t find anything, other than the initial hallucinogenic compounds…” 

“…And?” Sidekick prompted, impatient as always. 

“And I don’t know what the other part of this drug is, it’s not anything I’ve seen before, and I’ve had my share of experience with many drugs and poisons,” they cleared their throat as if they were embarrassed, “um, at this point I can tell you it’s not crack cocaine, or, any other known substances, anything past that…” the antagonist made a useless sort of gesture with their hands, “I don’t know.” 

“Am I going to be alright? I mean if we don’t know what it was?” Hero leaned forward, scooting off of the table, he was unsteady for a moment, swaying on trembling legs that ached like he’d just run two separate marathons, sidekick wrapped an arm around his waist, to keep him from toppling to the floor, he helped hero to one of the chairs, hero toppled into the seat wincing. 

“You will most likely be fine, if you want to be certain I’m going to need a pure sample of whatever was slipped in your drink,” the antagonist handed hero a bottle of pain pills and a glass of water. 

“Shit!” Hero exclaimed suddenly, setting the water glass on the counter,  “The crime boss! I didn’t get his ring!” He turned to his partner, “Sidekick we’ve got to go, I need to stop him!” 

Sidekick didn’t get a chance to answer before the antagonist tossed the crime boss’s ring easily into the hero’s lap. 

Hero held it up, his shock and confusion were evident by the completely baffled expression on his face, “What’s this? How did you–” 

But the Antagonist cut him off, he was smiling almost condescendingly, “That, my friend is a flying pig,” His smile turned more genuine, he winked at hero, “And you’re welcome.” 

Sidekick rolled his eyes, “You’re the worst.” 

The Antagonist smirked, “Thank you, that means a lot to me, validation of my goals and all.” 

Hero snorted, “Where’s the van? We’ve still got to pick the crime boss up, his penchant for using poisons means that his brain is the most deadly weapon of all, ring or no ring.” 

“The van is by the wall you walk through, I’ll take you there,” The antagonist motioned for them to follow, hero shot a confused look to their sidekick, sidekick shrugged, he’d tell hero about it later. 

It was a short walk, hero managed with sidekick’s help to get to the vehicle. 

“Thanks,” hero said, already looking a little weaker from the movement, his body ached and what he needed now was to sleep for at least twenty four hours, “You’ll have to put some thought into how I can pay you back for this,” hero teased, “I don’t like owing my life to Villains.” 

“I’ll need your help when pigs fly,” The antagonist snorted, looking almost offended, “As you put so eloquently,” he grinned, “Maybe next time I run into you in a bar you won’t be so rude as to begin to die in front of me.” 

Hero shrugged, “No promises.”

“You’re a mess hero,” The antagonist teased, “Next time at least put a coaster over your drink so it doesn’t get spiked.” 

Hero and sidekick got into their surveillance van and drove off, hero was asleep before they ever made it all of the way home. 

They saw the antagonist again a week later, hero received a message on his phone from a number he didn’t recognize, he frowned in confusion, when he pressed the triangular play button text filled the screen. 

My ring or I give your sidekick something really nasty, the text read, hero made eye contact with his sidekick who was sitting next to him at the computer desk, “What in the?..” 

But before he could finish the screen changed from text to video, showing the antagonist in a dark room somewhere, red angry welts ran up and down his arms and seemed to pulse with yellow energy, when the pulse was brighter he writhed, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out in pain, only to collapse as soon as the light faded. He looked exhausted and defenseless, hero wondered in horror how long he’d been there suffering in the dark? 

The screen faded to text again, this time it was a date and time and another warning: Not all poisons work as quickly as the one I gave you hero, so be on time. 

The screen faded to black. 

Shit. 

“They’re going to be in for a rough surprise when they realize that he’s your enemy and not your sidekick,” sidekick noted already gathering their kit together as fast as they could. 

Hero was frantically buckling his knife to his belt, pocketing the ring and grabbing the keys, his face was grim, “It’s as good a day as any for pigs to fly I think, also, don’t tell him he’s not my sidekick, I think he’d get offended after the week we’ve had.” 

Now all they had to do was return a favor. 

[leepace71]

LEE PACE AND HIS NEIGHBOR, JESSICA LANGE, CATCH UP ABOUT WILD FANS, THE WILDERNESS OF EMPTY HOTEL ROOMS, AND NATURE ITSELF

The first time I met Lee Pace, we were outside, next to the East River in Brooklyn, and I was a little stoned. We had just been introduced through a mutual friend, and within minutes of speaking to one another, he invited me up to “the farm,” a country house with five fireplaces, about two hours north of the city. The farm has played an important role in Pace’s life, offering him a retreat from Hollywood, but also purpose; there, with his own hands, he built a rustic barn, in which he lived until he bought the property adjacent to his from his then-neighbor, the two-time Oscar-winning actor Jessica Lange.

It makes sense that Pace feels at home outside of the city; the actor, now 40, was born in the small town of Chickasha, Oklahoma. He gained a modest, albeit devoted following by appearing on two beloved but short-lived TV series: Wonderfalls, in 2004, and, three years later, Pushing Daisies. His star, however, shot into a whole other orbit beginning in 2012, when he joined what seemed like every franchise at the time by starring in The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn – Part 2, all three of the films in The Hobbit series, and Guardians of the Galaxy—as the hooded, blue-faced villain Ronan the Accuser. His recent role as the closeted Mormon Joe Pitt in the Broadway revival of Angels in America was magically exhausting and eloquent, and it coincided with a public truth of his own—or, as a headline in The New York Times put it, “Lee Pace Came Out Seven Times a Week. Then He Came Out for Real.”

The actor’s two upcoming projects reemphasize his dual—perhaps dueling—interests in entertainment and art: He reprises his role as Ronan this spring in Captain Marvel and, later this summer, he’ll play John DeLorean, opposite Jason Sudeikis, in Driven, a biopic about the controversy-courting automobile tycoon. In anticipation of both films, Pace invited Lange to his apartment in New York’s West Village to talk about moviemaking, marketing, and, yes, the farm. She did a slight twirl upon entering the main room and, as one might expect from the queen of elevated shade, said, “Not bad, Lee—for a pied-à-terre.” —NICK HARAMIS

———

LANGE: Should we jump into acting?

PACE: Let’s start with the farm.

LANGE: I remember the first time I saw you, I had walked down to the pond and I looked across, and I saw somebody in that next field over there to the right. And I thought, “Fuck, I’m going to have a neighbor.” But then it turned out to be you, and that was swell.

PACE: I can’t imagine what you saw because those first few times, I was camping out there in a tent to try to figure out where I was going to build a house. I remember that first night, it was about four o’clock and it must have been early March or something. I had made camp, but I didn’t have enough time to make a fire before it got dark. I got into the tent, and I opened up my roast beef sandwich and start eating it, and then all around the quarry I heard the coyotes. I swear I heard one of them sniff the tent just right outside that nylon. So I made a ton of noise and ran back to the car.

LANGE: The land up there is haunted, but beautiful.

PACE: One of the things I’m most proud of is building that old frame out of raw timber on the edge of the woods. Then, right before Thanksgiving, I got a bunch of my friends together to push it up.

LANGE: It was like an old Amish barn raising. I remember because Sarah Paulson was staying up with me that weekend. I baked a pie and walked across the field with it wrapped in a linen basket, thinking, “This is something from another time.”

PACE: That farm has become such a big part of my life.

LANGE: As an actor, most of the time you’re staying in a hotel room in some strange city somewhere.

PACE: I do love seeing the world, and being in those hotel rooms. It’s such an incredible thing playing a character all day, and then at night you go home to this hotel and you wake up in the morning and you don’t quite know where you are.

LANGE: I think the part of it I’ve loved the most, and the part that’s been most difficult, is that nomadic life. When my kids were little, we were like a caravan. We moved dogs, birds, cats, kids, tutors—and that was great. But when you’re by yourself doing it, it’s incredibly lonely. Being an actor is an inherently lonely life.

PACE: It really is, isn’t it? It’s kind of disorienting in that way. It’s like having this sheet of thick glass between you and everyone else.

LANGE: Do you think in some way actors are already lonely people, who are then drawn to this life more than others?

PACE: There must be something.

LANGE: That and a traumatic childhood make a good actor.

PACE: Check.

LANGE: Tell me about Captain Marvel.

PACE: I’ve never read the script. I was doing Angels in America when I shot it.

LANGE: How in the hell did you do that?

PACE: That whole time of my life was insanity, so it just added to it. I basically did a matinee on Sunday, flew out to L.A., got painted blue, and put on a costume. Then I stood in front of a blue screen, and they’re like, “Okay, there’s a hologram in front of you and they’re saying this.” It’s so surreal in a way. I did two days of that, and then I was back onstage playing Joe Pitt in Angels in America.

LANGE: Well, that kind of covers acting A to Z, doesn’t it?

PACE: So many people see those movies and they entertain so many people, and I guess I’m an entertainer, so I embrace that. But if I’m being honest, it’s disorienting.

LANGE: When you were in Angels in America, you stepped in for another actor, right?

PACE: Yes, they had rehearsed it and had a whole run in England, so when they brought it back to Broadway, I was the only one who was new, so I was playing catch-up. As with all big experiences, life informs the situation, and it informed the interpretation of the character. When I read the play in high school, I understood this cognitive dissonance of Joe feeling like an alien in a world full of humans. I wanted to advocate for his point of view, because as a queer person, I’m seeing everyone behave as human and I feel like I’m painted blue. And the character really just goes through hell. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done because there was no pulling the punch going onstage. I was terrified about it every day, about walking through those shoes in that public way, because the character has just stripped off his skin.

LANGE: Sometimes those are the best acting moments, don’t you think? It confirms all the reasons why we do this. Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but in that production your performance was by far the most moving.

PACE: That means so much to me. I just felt so cooked by it, do you know what I mean? I think Tony [Kushner] knew it was coming to me, because I ran into him in Provincetown and he was like, “Hey, would you consider doing this?” I think he knew it was coming, and I’m glad I didn’t know.

LANGE: You don’t have to answer this, but how does it feel when there’s a certain discord—and I’m putting it lightly—with an actor opposite you. How do you find your way around that?

PACE: Well, I guess you’ve just got to show up for that first moment, right? You make your entrance, and that’s all I could do, really. I had to love this woman deeply, profoundly, unconditionally, and I did not. But the play does the work, really. Some nights, it hit such beautiful notes. Then there were times when I would look across at her, and I was like, “This isn’t the play we’re doing. You’re angry at someone else right now.” But there’s no redoing it, so yeah.

LANGE: This summer you’re going to star in a film as John DeLorean. How is playing an actual person different than playing a fictional character?

PACE: I love playing real people. You just get so much more color. The thing that was so fun about learning about John DeLorean is that no one has the same story about him. He left such different impressions on everyone he came into contact with. There are people who thought he was a visionary of a certain time. There are people who thought he was a crook.

LANGE: What ever happened with that car company of his?

PACE: There was this whole house of cards where he needed money to keep the business running, and so he got involved in a coke deal. But the FBI was setting him up, and they got video of the whole thing.

LANGE: If you could play anyone in the world, who would it be?

PACE: Putin? Trump? Let’s stick to mega-villains. I don’t know. I want to work with a good director who will pick for me.

LANGE: Is there a part you want to do onstage again?

PACE: I’m not 25 anymore, but I would love to have played Romeo. That’s a character I find so interesting and contradictory. I would also like to play Uncle Vanya. I think I could still play him.

LANGE: I think you could, too.

PACE: I can’t wait to get onstage again.

LANGE: I’ve found that with series, you get to have longer to develop a character. For all the disadvantages of doing a series, that’s one advantage.

PACE: There’s also the writers. I loved our writers on Halt and Catch Fire, because they watched us and saw things in us that they brought out of the character.

LANGE: They see you and know your strong points.

PACE: I think the writers in our room were like, “He’s going to hate this,” because my character gets dragged through hell. For the first few seasons, I was like, “This isn’t fair.”

LANGE: How much do you think an actor owes his fans? Is that even part of the way you think?

PACE: I think that’s a very contemporary view. Social media creates this call-out culture where people can view something as being problematic. But I don’t really consume a lot of media, so I don’t really pay attention to it much.

LANGE: Do you have—what are those sites called? Twitter?

PACE: I have Instagram. But it’s not really the media outlets on it that I find interesting. I just find cool people doing interesting stuff. To be honest, I look at very dumb memes.

LANGE: What’s a funny anecdote you remember from a fan approaching you?

PACE: I once went up to the farm���this was after I bought your house—and I saw this rotting bag of dumplings outside, along with a ticket to Shen Yun. Do you know that Chinese dance?

LANGE: Yes.

PACE: And there was a note that said, “I know you like dumplings, please come with me to Shen Yun. I’ll be waiting with a ticket for you. By the way, you have a beautiful farm.” [Laughs] I’m so grateful that people like the work that I do and that they respond to it. Twenty years ago, I never would have dreamed that people would have felt strongly about the work that I do. But one of the lessons I learned playing that role in Angels in America is that approval is really not what it’s about. Understanding is what it’s about.

LANGE: I’m so far outside the realm of social media, but from what I’ve heard people say, your presence—or following, or whatever—now adds to your bankability. It’s insane. I passed by somebody on the street today who was talking on her phone, and she said that she had 20 million followers.

PACE: I wonder who has the most. Would it be Selena Gomez? Let’s see how many she’s got—145 million followers.

LANGE: What does that even mean?

PACE: If she posts a picture, 145 million people will see it on their feed. I mean, that’s more than a movie.

LANGE: That’s a lot of people. It feels dangerous to me. I don’t mean to be a conspiracy theorist, but do we really understand what any of this stuff is? It makes you want to retire to the farm.

LEE: I love those days when you wake up and just make coffee, then walk out into the fields.

LANGE: Do you remember that one beautiful coyote that used to cross the field?

PACE: Yes.

LANGE: He was gorgeous!

PACE: I remember one time, the pond had frozen over and these coyotes chased a doe out onto the ice and then she slipped and fell, and they ripped her up. There were tracks going back into the woods where they took a piece of her. The next day, it thawed and it all disappeared like it had never happened.

x

[if-there-was-any-more-left-of-me]

I need to get this all down.

I shake all day long. My hands mostly, but my whole body too.

I'm always either starving or nauseous and wanna throw up. Nothing I eat makes it better. I crave garbage food and shovel down sugary snacks as fast as I can.

I'm always bloated, painfully so, and gassy. My stomach is swollen and hard, and it hurts to sit, stand, or lay down. I'm constipated most of the week, then visited with violent, painful, explosive diarrhea.

I'm thirsty and I drink and drink and drink but I never feel better.

I can't go to sleep til 5 or 6 am. I wake up at 7 or 8,go back to sleep, wake up at 11 or so and eat breakfast then go back to sleep til 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 pm. When I wake up, I am always The Most Tired I have ever been. I never wake up feeling happy or rested or content. I often have these really intense dreams that are more exhausting than being awake and I wake up panting, shaking, hot and sweaty (even with AC, a fan, and just a sheet), and feeling as though I had been clenching my whole body tight for hours.

Every sound is the most annoying sound ever. The radio, people talking, electronics, pet lickiing foot, water filter. My ears feel big and hollow and resonate these sounds like a big empty tin barn. Some sounds feel more like a thin, long drill bit being driven deep down in my ear.

I can't smile or laugh. I can't lift my head up.

I am so depressed and so angry. I hate the government, I hate the public for letting it all happen, I hate my mother for squandering our money and getting my health insurance canceled and for acting like she's not responsible for me being so sick.

I hate being trapped in this house where I can't even flush the toilet. I hate that my only outing is driving to go feed all the cats.

I hate that I can't use my phone consistently to escape because of the shitty service. I hate that my friends have all forsaken me and don't even wonder about me let alone want to see me.

My memory is gone. I can't remember anything, what time it is, what day it is, who I was just talking to, what I ate for breakfast. I don't know anything. My brain doesn't work. I used to be funny and clever and genuinely smart. But right now I can't figure out how to turn the shower on. People ask me questions and I can't answer. I can't listen to conversation because I dissociate so hard.

My head hurts all the time. Much worse having to drive facing the sunset. I can't see from it. Just painful white glare.

My diabetic neuropathy is getting much worse than the Gabapentin can handle. My feet are numb and everything I touch hurts my hands. Having to do things with my fingers is excruciating.

My back hurts all the time, whether I am trying to work or not. In addition to my lower back injury, it now hurts up high. Any way I move my neck or arms hurts.

I am dizzy all the time. Standing up feels woozy and thick. My knees, ankles, hips buckle when I walk. Obviously, walking hurts my numb feet. I have no sense of balance anymore. I used to be strong and steady.

Without my insurance, I can't follow through with the important testing my GI doctor was doing, which was originally to find out what was causing all my digestive problems, but then also included making sure something she found wasn't cancerous. But that's not important.

I can't afford my allergy pills, which are not important.

I can't see my podiatrist to fix my horribly painful ingrown toenails. Not important.

Can't see the pain management doctor who prescribes my pain medication and does minor pain alleviating procedures. Not important.

Can't see my psychiatrist who was in the process of trying out new depression medication and getting me to a level of functioning. I'm stuck in limbo with a medication that doesn't work for me.

Definitely can't see a therapist cuz even if I could afford it, I would be told every day what a waste it is and that I should manage my problems like SHE does, by yelling at my family and belittling my elderly husband (no that was a actual conversation we had)

Can't afford to get my regular blood work done by my regular doctor that she always insists we do monthly because we're very sick, unmanaged diabetics. I'm not even getting to take the diabetes medication I'm supposed to I'm just taking whatever free samples she has in office

God I miss going to the doctor. But that's not important. You know what's important? A 2005 red ford mustang pony edition that's held under titlemax. I have been told many times that that car will not be relenquished no matter what else has to go. I think that includes m8. Because I am very sick but I keep being told that I am imagining that I can't go to the doctor. I'm imagining that I can't afford my prescription.

Am I imagining the sick cat with a massive infection that's eaten a 2" by 4" patch of skin off his back that he licks raw every day? Am I imagining not being able to afford to take him to the vet? Am I imagining the massive tumors on HER dog? The dozens of them? I guess it's fine that she dies as long as we get to keep the mustang.

I am definitely imagining that the house is infested with millions of fleas and we can't afford the good medication (ie the $15/animal stuff that actually kills fleas) for 3 dogs and 16 cats.

Definitely imagining not being able to get get 14 wild kittens spayed and homed.

But I know I am not imagining the dozens of stray cats we spend more money on every day that we feed. Those are real.

More real I guess than my sister's need for therapy or my dad's need for dental surgery after all of his teeth have rotted out and the infection is getting ready to spread.

But that's not important. My teeth aren't important and it is definitely my fault for not going to the dentist that I have holes and cavities and pain and shit and definitely not because SHE complained constantly about me wasting money by going to the dentist every year (back when we had money) and then obviously not going anymore once the money dried up.

I remember her screaming at me in 2017,threatening to tell the doctors and police that I refused to take my medicine so they'd lock me up because she didn't like how I responded to some of the dozen different meds I tried that year. I remember because now she has convinced herself that I never take my medicine and that all my problems would go away if I would just take my medicine.

I'm so sick. I'm so scared. I'm so angry. I don't know what to do. I just want to scream and tear myself open.

It's getting worse. And every time I say that I'm upset about concentration camps or not being able to get the medicine I need, I get told to take more medicine. I can't take this level of invalidation. The gaslighting. I do not know what is real anymore.

This seems like an afterthought but I also can't buy any healthy snacks to maybe cut back on the horrifying amount of sugar I consume every day because all the food money goes to pet food and sugary treats. And I get yelled at for asking for less sugar in the house. Told to just eat something else but there is nothing else. I don't know what to do. Lacy makes these watery soups out of whatevers in the fridge to feed us. But I want real food.

I can't stop shaking. I know why I am so goddamn sick. Because I am malnourished, angry, frightened, stressed out to the maximum, and have no recourse. Every complaint is met with gaslighting or being told to take more antidepressants, as though they're some kind of magic happy pills.

I want to check myself into the hospital but I can't afford it. I would have already killed myself but I am not villainous enough to abandon my 85 yr old deaf dad whose had 4 strokes and does all the outside work and whom mom screams and ridicules mercilessly. And my sister who's anxiety is on a hair trigger and whom mom loves to trigger and laugh at her panic.

I need a miracle. I need help. I need someone to fucking shoot me in the face. God kill me please I can't take this anymore please

[nostalgiaispeace]

840.

Tonight the last person you kissed calls you and tells you he wants you what do you say? he lives with me. he wouldn’t call me. Who was the last person to drive you somewhere? Matt? When was the last time you cried? yesterday Are you texting the last male you cuddled with? no

When was the last time you totally broke down? last week?

If you could have one thing right now what would it be? $$ Has a friendship ended recently that you wish had not? not recently. Recently kissed anyone with the name starting with a L? no What will you be doing in the next 2 hours? maybe sleeping What are you currently listening to? watching Teen Mom OG

Are you angry with someone right now? a bit Do you have any plans for the weekend? work, chill, go to dinner for my wedding anniversary Has the last person you kissed ever took their shirt off in front of you? yes Who were you with Friday? my husband If the last person you kissed, saw you kissing someone else, would they be upset? duh Are you missing someone? yes Do you believe your ex cares about you? no Are you wearing jeans, shorts, sweatpants, or pajama pants? sweat pants Do you want to say something to someone? no Anybody you’re looking forward to seeing soon? no Have you ever read an entire book in one day? Yeah Was yesterday fun? no How fast does your mood change? it can Would you ever get in the passenger seat of a car with someone who’s been drinking? no

Do you really, truly miss someone right now? yes

Have you ever had an alcoholic beverage? yes.. Do you ever feel like you just HAVE to sing out loud? sure Have you ever watched RuPaul’s Drag Race? If yes, what makes it enjoyable? no

Do you own a TV? If so, what do you watch on it? yes, tv shows, films Do you have Netflix/ViaPlay/other similar online channel?: Netflix Have you ever watched Nostalgia Critic or Nostalgia Chick?: no What is the strangest type of food you have eaten?: dunno What is the strangest type of candy you have eaten?: dunno What would be your most ideal profession?: singer What kind of rides do you enjoy the most at amusement parks?: water rides Have you tried those colouring books for adults?: no What is a topic you definitely don’t want to talk about with anyone?: politics Someone is about to take your picture. How do you react?: put my hand in my face or in the way Do you frequent any “funny pictures” site? If so, which one?: no Do you wash your dishes by hand or do you have a dishwasher?: both Do you ever get a chance to stay home alone? If not, why not?: yeah Are you/have you ever been engaged? If not, would you like to be one day?: yes Are you/have you ever been married? If not, would you like to be one day?: yes What makes a person ugly?: personality What makes a person beautiful?: personality What is the craziest hairstyle and colour you’ve had?: I’ve had blue in my hair. that’s as crazy as ive gotten Is there a book that you are currently reading?: yes Do you prefer an actual book or ebooks? Why?: both are fine. What was your first gaming console?: original Nintendo ? Do you have any siblings? If so, how close are you?: yes, we are civil Is there something you’re eagerly waiting for? What is it?: no Is there something you’d like to change about yourself?: yes Have you ever had a sunburn? Where on your body was it?: yes; everywhere basically. Do you have or would you like to have a tattoo? If so, where?: both; my whole body Which fictional villain is your favourite?: Voldemort What was the last present you gave someone?: dunno Have you ever had a serious injury?: yes Do you collect anything?: yes What’s under your bed?: whatever my cat puts there What is something you’ve been meaning to get done but haven’t yet?: yes Do you enjoy traveling?: no Where do you carry the things you need with you when leaving the house?: my pockets and purse What’s the last thing you’ve made with your hands?: dunno On a daily basis, do you prefer to go by car or by bicycle? Why?: car. it’s easier Do you know your ancestry?: Some of it Which hair colour would you never want to have?: dunno What has been the most beautiful place you’ve visited?: NYC

Where was the very first kiss you had with the last person you kissed? his bed

Are you texting anybody? yes

What were you doing at 9:30 last night? sleeping

Are you listening to music right now? No

Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoos? yes

Has anyone seen you kiss the last person you kissed? yes

Looking back, did you ever waste too much time on a someone that treated you badly? probably

If your doctor told you TODAY that you were pregnant, what would you say? i would be too shocked to say anything tbh

Have you hugged someone within the last week? yes

Are you a couple with the last person you kissed on the lips? yes

What woke you up this morning? alarm

What’s your relationship with the last person you texted? bff

Did you cry at all today? no

Will your next kiss be a mistake? no

When is the next time you will kiss someone? today

Are you older than the last person you kissed? no

When is the last time you consumed alcohol? early September

What were you doing at midnight last night? sleeping

Have you ever been given flowers? yes

Can you honestly say that at this point in time you’re happy with the way things are? sure

What are you excited for? not really.

Did anyone call you babe/baby today, who? yes; my husband

Has anyone said they love you in the last week? yes

Last time you smiled? Today

Would life be the same without alcohol? yes

Ever had sex in the bathroom? yes

Who are you dating? my husband

Who’s the last person you talked to about sex? my husband

Have you ever sat in the back of a police car? no

Are you stubborn? yes

If you took a drug test right now, would you pass? yes

Who was the last person to be on a bed with you? husband

Do you tend to hold a grudge? yes

Who is the last person that pissed you off? my mom

What’s a fact about the last person that texted you? she just moved to PA

Has anyone called you perfect before? yes

Would you date someone who was addicted to drugs? i’m married to a recovering drug addict so

When was the last time you fought with your parents? yesterday

What was the last alcoholic beverage you drank? rum and coke i think

Do you care if people hate you for no reason? yes

Who was the last person to play with your hair? dunno.

Who was the last person you kissed on the cheek? dunno

Would you ever get plastic surgery? if i had the money

Have you ever had so much to drink that you still felt drunk when you woke? yeah

What is your mother’s middle name? Hazel

Is there currently anyone else in the room with you? no

Have you ever tried a weird flavour of vodka? yes

What is the wallpaper on your phone? me and my husband with a quote

Why did you call the last person you called? i need my meds

How many windows are in the room you’re in? none

Do you have Facebook friends that you’ve never actually met? yes

When was the last time you had your photo taken professionally? dunno

How far from your house is the nearest supermarket? a few minutes

If you could wake up and speak any language fluently, what would it be? arabic

Does it snow where your grandparents live? yes

Name all the people you know that you saw today. Matt

Can you count your number of serious relationships on one hand? yes

How about number of sexual partners? yes

Has anyone told you they missed you lately? dunno

Was yesterday better than today? no

This time last year, were you single? no

Do you have any siblings? yes

Do any of your friends dislike each other? i dunno

What are you doing right now? This and watching Teen Mom OG

Have you ever liked someone but were afraid to tell them? yes

What happened at 9:00AM today? ordering my prescriptions

Do you have a best friend? Yes

Are you scared to fall in love? no

Do you think ex’s can remain friends? yes

Are you one of those people that always answer their phones? no

Hate it when you go over to someone’s house and do absolutely nothing? sometimes

Are you one of those people who gets jealous of boys/girls your current bf/gf dated? sometimes

Were you single for your last birthday? no

Did you talk to the person you like today? yes

When was the last time you were in a car with someone besides family? last week

What are you wearing on your feet? socks

You can get a puppy or a new car. Which do you choose? puppy

What is bothering you right now? i’m tired

Is it easy to make you cry? yes

Think back to August, were you in a relationship? yes

Any drama in your life right now? yes

Did you sleep alone last night? yes

When was the last time you received flowers? What were they for? a long while ago

Have you ever been physically or mentally abused? How did it effect you? no

Do you consider yourself a vengeful person? If so, why’d you think that is? not really

What one quality do you have that you are proud of? empathy

When have you felt the most proud of yourself? For what reason? my job; it’s a hard job to have

Have you ever had a near death experience? If so, how did it feel? yes; i didn’t care so i was mad i stayed alive

[descendantshh2]

You Are My Happily Ever After - Harry Hook x Reader

Requested:Hi, i was wondering if you could write an imagine about Harry. Where you are jays younger sister and you went to auradon with the vks but dont feel like you fit in and want to go back to the isle. You go back with mal and run into an old friend and crush, Harry Hook. When the others come you help with ben you and jay get into a fight and you stay on the isle with Harry? Sorry its so long. Thank you if you can write this. i love your imagines, thank you for doing what you do!! :)

A/N I'd like to thank @kaylantus for the request. Hope you enjoy !! (:

It's been six months since you left the Isle. At first you loved Auradon because both you and your brother Jay realized that you wanted to be good and not steal. You loved it because for once your brother was happy and that's all you wanted.

However you didn't fit in. Your old habits were quickly coming back. All you wanted to do was steal but you couldn't mess it up, no not for Jay. Before you left the Isle you left along your best friend and childhood crush Harry Hook.

Yes Harry Hook is a little crazy and off his rocker but he was lovely and you fell for him. For some odd reason Harry and Jay were always feuding with each other. Which made things hard for you when you were starting to fall for Harry. But when you heard Prince Ben of Auradon wanted to bring 4 Villains you were surprised to even be a part of the 4, which is technically now 5. Jay made it pretty clear to you that he wasn't gonna let you go. You were genuinely happy. So that same night you snuck out to see Harry one last time and let's just say it was the hardest goodbye ever.

You decided to sneak out your room after everyone in the house was sound asleep. You sneak outta bed quietly sleeping on your shoes. Tip toeing to the window Jay shifted. You made sure not to wake him. 

"Your gonna have to quieter then that little sis." Jay mumbled not opening his eyes. 

You cursed under your breath. "Please don't tell dad okay." You whispered and walked over at Jay. "Please just give 30 mins I'll be back." 

Jay opened his eyes and sat up in bed. He carefully wrapped you in a hug, "I know your gonna see Harry and I'll give 30 mins to see him and say goodbye. But if he guilt trips you into not going just remember your going to get a better future away from this dump. I will protect you through it all." You smiled and hugged Jay tight. Even though he was all muscle he has a really big soft spot for you. "Thank you Jay it means a lot."

With that Jay got back into bed and proceeded escaping through the window.

You reached the pirate ship in no time and climbing onto the ship sneaking into Harry's window. The sight of his room made you feel at home even though he was quite the messy pirate with clothes all over the floor. You see Harry fast asleep in his bed. You smiled and walked over to him pressing a kiss on his forehead.

"Look I don't wanna wake you up Hook but I'm leaving," you whispered trying not to wake him. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you ahead of time but I think you should know this. Harold Hook I love you. I love you so much it consumes me. I can't tell you this in person because it'll be harder for me to leave you but," your voice quivered and you began to cry, "you gotta let the things you love go free and I'm letting you go free Harry. I'll write you letters and maybe when I graduate Auradon I will come back." You placed your favorite necklace on Harry's bed next to him. The necklace was real gold it took your dad 2 weeks to steal and it said your name along with a picture of you and him in a locket. "I will come back okay. I don't know how long but I will be back that's a promise I'll make to you." You carefully touched Harry's face tears dripping down your face. You pressed your lips on him and gave him a kiss. "I love you so much." You quietly got up and took one of Harry's torn up shirts. It smelled like the sea and you loved it. You took one more look at Harry. "I'll see you soon Harry." You climbed out back to your house crying along the way.

Harry's POV

She really left. She really kissed me. But I couldn't move. I couldn't let her know I was listening. She needed her to go start a future even if I wasn't a part of it. I love her so much to let her go and be happy. 

Once I knew she was gone I sat up. I would never want my mate's to see me so weak so in the night is where my emotions finally come out. I took Y/N necklace and our picture. I held it in my arms not noticing the hot tears streaming down my eyes. I'm gonna miss her so much. "I love you too deary." I whispered to the picture and I kissed her necklace.

Y/N POV

You were currently in Chemistry. You were on top of your grades and very smart. Still you didn't feel happy. Your whole wardrobe changed. You used to wear leather jackets and pants tore up shirts but you changed all that to fit in. Now you wore pretty lace dresses and pretty heels. You felt like a princess but for some odd reason this isn't what you wanted. 

Chad looked over your notes. "Hey Y/N who's Harry?" He curiously asked. You froze. "What?" 

"Harry, you know the name you always write on your note book for the past 6 months." 

You stared at Chad not knowing what to say. "It's her imaginary boyfriend!" laughed Audrey out loud to the class. You blood boiled. But you stayed quiet. "Common Y/N admit it!! Common common common!!" Audrey joked. 

You ignored her until she reached into you bag to pull out the white torn shirt that was Harry's. "Give it back!!" you reached out but she was too fast. "Come and get it!!" she laughed throwing it into a glass of chemicals. There the white shirt turned to ash and smoked as everyone laughed. 

You froze watching the shirt turn to ash. You felt the anxiety running through your body mixed with angry. You stared at everyone who was laughing as the Chemistry teacher asked if you were okay. You couldn't take it here anymore you busted out the room and sprinted towards your dorm. You shut the door and leaned against it sliding down and pulling you knees to your chest and cried. 

"I don't belong here" you sobbed. 

"That's makes two of us." 

You snapped your head up to see Mal dressed in her Villain clothes also teary eyed. "Mal what are u doing?" You finally found the strength to get up. "Y/N please don't tell anyone but I'm going back to Isle." She stared at you before flipping through her spell book. 

"What about Ben? And your title as lady of the court?" You asked sniffing. "This just isn't me please I'm serious don't tell anyone." Begged Mal. She honestly looked like a mess. "Take me with you please Mal." You looked at her with hope. 

"I can't Y/N Jay needs you and Auradon needs you." She looked at you with a straight face. 

"No Mal. Yes, Jay needs me but he has the boys and all his friends. This," you say point at your wardrobe, "this isn't me Mal I don't fit in I'm an outcast and I will forever be the girl from the Isle. You either take me or I go myself. Your choice." 

You stepped into Dizzy's hair salon with Mal. She was so full of light. However gagged at your clothes because you were still in your 'Preppy Princess Clothes' as she calls its. 

Once Mal was done having her purple hair back and straighten Dizzy pointed towards the extra clothes she made for Evie if she ever returned. "You can look through the pile you and Evie are the same size take what you like." smiled Dizzy kindly at you. You went through pile then suddenly your heart stopped. 

"Fork it over you runt!" Barked the voice you've missed for the past 6 months. 

You stood frozen didn't know wither to turn or run. "What a nice surprise." you heard him approach Mal. "Hi Harry" Mal said plainly. 

You gulped and turned around. "Harry..." you chocked back tears. Harry immediately dropped the bad Villain act and soften when he saw you. "Y/N is that really you." You glanced at his neck and saw he was wear your necklace. 

You nodded tears already falling from your face. "You look so beautiful. Even with that ugly clothes on." Harry said letting a single tear slip out his right eye. Harry couldn't help it, he didn't care who he was around he just missed you. You chuckled wiping your eyes and ran into his arms. He picked up and spinning you around causing the two of you to laughed a bit.

"So are you guys like a thing??" Mal asked confused. "No were just friends." You said not knowing that Harry was awake for that time you kissed him in his room. Harry nodded, "I just missed having her around because I don't get to do bad things anymore." 

"Well Y/N I'd hate to ruin this little reunion of yours but I really need to get going," Mal said grabbing her things and turning to you and Harry, "you coming or are you staying." You turned to Harry. 

"Go on Y/N I have duties to run for Uma and the crew but we'll catch up later I promise," he said kissing your forehead turning to walk towards the door.

"Wait Harry!" You stopped him as Harry turned, "hand it over." You held your hand out as he huffed giving you the money he stole from Dizzy. You handed her the cash as she stuck her tongue out at Harry and giggled away. You laughed and crossed your arms looking at Harry. "I told you not to steal from kids, It's rude." "Yea yea whatever." He chucked walking out. 

You've literally only been in the Isle for about 7 hours and within those 7 hours Ben and the gang manage to figure out you and Mal have left. Also Ben got captured by Uma's crew.

You avoid Jay's stare when you walk towards the pirate ship getting ready for battle. You didn't feel like getting lectured by him.  But you felt an arm pull up back "Why Y/N! Why did you leave! You didn't even say goodbye!" Screamed Jay causing the whole gang to stop and stare. You looked him. He never screamed at you unless it was necessary. "Because I didn't wanna pull you away from this life! You were so happy here and I don't belong in Auradon Jay I belong in the Isle. I'm different and I don't wanna change. Jay I love to be good but I have something here that more important than all that...I'm not happy in Auradon Jay." You looked at him and he soften a bit. 

"It's like I blinked and you grew up. Your in love aren't you." Jay stared at you and you nodded slowly. "I'm so sorry Jay but this is where I belong and I rather be happy in this dump than miserable back in Auradon." Jay was a lost for words as he hugged you. "I don't wanna lose you and all this time I tried protecting you when you were the one protecting me." You hugged Jay back. "I'll always be your little sister I’m not going anywhere." You smiled pulling away "now let's get Ben back and kick some pirate butt." 

You and Mal were standing in front of Uma. You glanced over at Harry who was holding Ben at the edge of the plank. The plan was to trick Uma with a fake wand, you however, weren't returning to Auradon. Harry didn't know that. Maybe that's why he was avoiding your gaze he looked anger then ever pushing Ben and taunting him.  Mal handed Uma the wand as they let Ben go. 

Let the war begin. 

Everyone was sword fighting even you. I guess those fencing lessons weren't as stupid as you thought. Harry stepped in front of you and you fought. You can tell he was being really aggressive and you were confused. 

"Harry what the hell is your problem!" You shouted noticing the moves he was using. You were dodging every head shot he aimed at you. 

"You think you can just come to the Isle Y/N! Oh no!" He fought harder. "You left me and you gave me the worlds most hardest goodbye! I thought about u everyday for 6 months hoping you'd walk through the door and say 'Harry I'm home' but you left me waiting!" Harry shouted face red with rage. 

You fought back a bit harder. 'Hardest goodbye' you thought, he wasn't even awake when you said goodbye. "Harry I did what I thought was best for me and Jay! Leaving you behind was the most thing I ever did!" You jumped as Harry sung her sword near your feet.

"No Y/N you kissed me that night! You told me you loved me! The minute you crawled through that window I spend sleepless nights thinking of you!!" 

That's when it hit you. Harry was awake. He was awake the whole time and heard you. "Harry why didn't you say anything to me! Why didn't you say you loved me too! Why didn't you kiss back and wrapped me in your arms one more time!" You shouted angry that he didn't at least try to stop you from going. 

Harry stopped and so did you as he stared at you with emotion in his eyes "because I wanted you to have a better life. I wanted you to find your 'Happily Ever After'. I wanted you to be happy even if that happiness doesn't include me." 

You walked closer to him. "But when I saw you at Dizzy's dressed like a prefect Auradon girl I thought I made the right choice letting you go to start a new life. But when I hugged you I didn't wanna let you go." Harry admitted. You touched his face looking deep into his blue eyes. "You are my 'Happily Ever After'." You then locked lips with Harry. He immediately dropped his sword and wrapped his arms around you pulling you closer. You both pulled away breathless.

After the battle was over you met Jay and the Gang at the limo. You hugged Jay once more. "I promise I'll be safe and call you every night okay" you quickly said with Harry by your side. "Take care of her please." Jay turned to Harry, "you hurt her I'll come back and kick your a-" 

"Jay come on we gotta go!" Shouted Mal from the limo. "Don't worry mate I got her from here." Harry wrapped his arms around you. You waved at the gang and watch the limo drift off. You turned to Harry and wrapped you arms around his neck. 

"What now Hook?" You smiled at him as you kissed his lips. 

"We go home." Harry smiled and picked you up twirling you around.

A/N I love putting images of the outfits I feel really fit the character. Hope you guys don’t mind!! Enjoy (:        

[qitwrites]

Fandom: Boku no hero academia

Pairing: Kirishima x Bakugou 

A/N: it’s kinda like a 5+1 thing? similar theme anyway. i promise lots of fluff and cursing. 

The first time it happens, Kirishima is blissfully passed the fuck out in the common room, legs dangling over the side of the small-ass couch, shirt riding up a little and one sock completely rolled off his foot.

He’s dreaming about mustaches, muscles, the color red and all things he finds insanely manly when a shake, which then turns into a rocking, which then turns into a full on jarring-his-skeleton-holy-shit-is-that-his-brain-flopping-around-his-skull, rudely awakens him. He sits up with a gasp and narrowly avoids head butting someone. The redhead blinks a couple of times, eyes adjusting to the dark before he recognizes the familiar silhouette of spiky hair, the broad build and those thick thighs and he swears to god, he can see the everlasting look of something akin to disgust mixed with anger etched on his face.

“What the fuck?” Kirishima mumbles.

Bakugou smacks him on the head. “That’s what I should say, asshole,” he snarls, grabbing Kirishima’s collar. “Who the fuck falls asleep in the goddamn common room? I thought you were a fucking villain and I was gonna fucking murder you.”

Kirishima swats his hands away and yawns into the back of his palm, lifting his legs off the armrest and bringing them to the ground. He blinks a little more and shoots Bakugou a sleepy smile.

“Well then, thank you for not killing me.”

“Asshole,” Bakugou kindly reiterates, and maybe it’s just Kirishima’s sleep muddled brain, but the insult is softer somehow, mellow in a way that couldn’t possibly come from Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki.

“Must be dreaming,” he mumbles to himself and falls back, head lolling on the edge of the back rest.

Bakugou grabs the collar of his shirt again and brings his face ridiculously close before whispering, “Go back to your fucking room or I’m gonna actually blast a goddamn hole through your stomach.”

Kirishima groans like a petulant child but stands up, pushing Bakugou with him. They’re chest to chest now, and he’s so warm, the perfect union between a furnace and a campfire. Kirishima doesn’t even resist the urge to slump into him, putting his entire body weight on the man.

“Mmmm, toasty,” he sighs contently, and he feels Bakugou shake. Oh, he might be in a little bit of trouble. Then again, he knew he was signing his death contract with that stellar move.

“YOU FUCKING WEIRD HAIR BAS-“ Bakugou screams, shoving him away and shaking him rigorously. “Just go! Right fucking now!”

Kirishima backs up and cracks his neck before making his way to the other end of the room in a zombie trance. He’s near the stairs when he suddenly spins around, spotting Bakugou on the other side of the hall.

“Hey!”

Bakugou stops but doesn’t turn.

“Why are you down here?”

Bakugou makes a non-committal sound. “Water.”

It sounds like a lie, but Kirishima’s too sleepy to care.

~

The next time it happens is right after training, or more specifically, Aizawa sensei’s version of hell. It’s grueling to the point where Kirishima wants to throw up. He loves it, he loves that he’s getting stronger and better and he’s more emotionally attuned to his classmates and he’s so manly, but feeling nauseous sucks.

The entire class is crowding the common room but they seep out eventually, till just a few remain scattered here and there. Kirishima is plopped on the same couch as last time, and his eyes drift shut without his permission. He’s out in moments, entering that trance like state where he’s aware of everything happening around him but can’t really do anything physically.

He hears a voice suddenly, close and familiar. It’s Bakugou he realizes, recognizing that angry tone anywhere.

“Just leave him the fuck alone, Deku!”

Why is he screaming? Actually, why is he always screaming? Isn’t that energy consuming? Wait, does that mean he’ll be more powerful if he’s calm? Wha-

Kirishima’s thought process comes to a halt when he realizes that the remaining people are, in fact, talking about him.

“But Kirishima-kun might catch a cold!” Deku says, sounding worried. Kirishima wants to glomp him, the cute fucker.

Bakugou growls, “Just leave him. Aizawa was really harsh today, can’t blame the fucker for passing out.”

“Just do-“

“I’m not gonna leave him here! Just fuck off.”

Kirishima hears Deku and another pair of feet walk away, and something warm and fuzzy settles right beside his heart, just below his sternum. It beats rapidly, filling him with a heat that makes his cheeks warm and his stomach flutter.

He feels Bakugou’s back hit the couch, right in front of his mid-section. His hair tickles Kirishima’s arm but he doesn’t move it, because fucking hell Bakugou’s hair is so soft and he smells so musky and manly and jus-

“Idiot,” Bakugou whispers, and damn, he sounds worried. Kirishima, not once in his short, weird life had believed Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki was capable of feeling legitimate worry for anyone except maybe All Might.

The fuzz and the warmth intensifies, and he damn near hums.

He really doesn’t want this tiny, cheesy-ass moment to end.

~

Kirishima is a patient person, or so he likes to believe.

He’s been compared to saints, and even the Pope, and with good reason. He’s tolerant and good-natured, taking insults in stride and befriending everything that walks the face of the earth. He’s a good guy, or so he’s been told, multiple times.

Which is why it shocks him, and pretty much everybody else, when he snaps, and by snaps he means he goes ballistic, on Bakugou’s ass.

Now, Bakugou being a grade-A asshole is nothing new. It’s become routine - Bakugou pretends to not know his name, calls him weird hair guy or bastard for short, then they squabble when Kirishima corrects him, then they fight while training, then they fight while walking back to the dorms, then they argue in the common room, then they sleep and then they repeat. Kirishima’s used to it, and he doesn’t mind it at all. If anything, he’s come to enjoy it.

But there are days when even literal drops of sunshine such as himself are just off. Days when they can’t find their groove and just aren’t feeling themselves, and Kirishima’s having one of those. Bakugou’s timed insults come, but Kirishima’s witty responses never do. Bakugou, undeterred, tries again, to no avail.

He pushes and pushes, hitting a harder wall, till he goes too far. He says something about his mom (you do not talk about Kirishima’s mom) and the redhead is done.

There’s yelling and pushing, explosions and Kirishima trying his level best to stab Bakugou with his hardened hand. There’s blood and cuts and bruises that need to be treated.

It sucks. All of it.

Bakugou’s face had been painted with surprise when Kirishima had come at him, and he hadn’t breathed a word to him ever since. Kirishima refuses to cave this time, justified in his anger. Even insensitivity from Bakugou has its limits. He thinks of the man as a friend, a comrade, a partner in crime, but too much is exactly that- too much.

He goes to Midoriya’s room to rant, the flustered boy laughing awkwardly and trying to pacify him with his soothing voice and gentle actions. Somewhere between debating Aizawa’s best move and All Might’s really weird hair, Kirishima passes out, exhausted both mentally and physically.

He wakes up a few hours later, rousing from slumber with fluttering eyelids and a roll of his body in a bed too soft to be his own. He’s confused at first, because the bed doesn’t smell like him either, but then he remembers Midoriya and relaxes again. That’s when he hears voices.

“So he’s here?”

“Yeah.”

It’s Midoriya talking to Bakugou, of this Kirishima is sure. They’re talking in hushed whispers, or at least Midoriya is. Bakugou is trying, though not very successfully.

“He’s tired,” Midoriya is saying, “so let him sleep.”

Bakugou growls. “Deku, I need two minutes, get out!”

“Are you seriously kicking me out of my own room?” Midoriya sounds incredulous and annoyed. Kirishima resists the urge to giggle.

There’s silence for a beat, then the softest “Please?”

Kirishima resists every instinct in his entire body that’s screaming at him to shoot up straight and stare at Bakugou’s face because he’s a hundred percent sure his expression must be utterly priceless. Midoriya chokes, spluttering loudly.

“Kacchan? Are you really Kacchan? Am I dreaming?”

“Shut the fuck up Deku,” Kacch-Bakugou growls, before exhaling loudly. “Just please fucking give me two minutes ok?”

Midoriya chuckles. “Yeah, fine. I’ll be in Todoroki’s room, and I’m giving you five minutes, no more.”

There’s a little bit of shuffling and rustling, and then the door is shut, shrouding the room in silence. Kirishima forces himself to breathe normally, eyes shut tight, heart rate higher than usual and picking up steadily.

Bakugou paces in front of the bed, his footsteps angry and loud. Kirishima feels the heat from his body, his eternally hot (pun intended) body, and it’s oddly comforting. For all that he’s an asshole, Bakugou Katsuki has grown on Kirishima, and he hates that they’re fighting.

There’s a sudden dip in the bed, and Bakugou’s warm back is pressed into Kirishima’s abdomen.

“…’m sorry.”

It’s soft but genuine, so completely and utterly genuine. Kirishima hears him loud and clear, and he doesn’t need to look to know that Bakugou is blushing an adorable crimson. His hand, the one curled near his face, slides down slowly, till he touches Bakugou’s side. He moves it up slowly and finds Bakugou’s forearm, tightly curled over his chest and squeezes.

“’s alright.”

Bakugou grunts, and he’s even warmer than before. Kirishima’s stomach is fluttering, his heart thumping around his chest wildly, and not once in his life has he felt an urge this strong, it makes him shake with the desire to fulfill it.

The urge to kiss Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki.

They sit like that for a few minutes, till they hear the sound of the lock opening and Bakugou shoots up, yells a I’m gonna kill you tomorrow Kirishima before stomping out.

He doesn’t shake his hand off. He remembers his name.

Kirishima doesn’t stop smiling even when he climbs into his own bed.

~

There’s a beeping.

It’s consistent, it’s not too loud, and it’s close.

And it’s fucking annoying.

Kirishima wakes up to white. White everywhere, like it’s snowed, but less pretty. The curtains are white and so are the walls, the sheets covering him, the rails of the bed, the pillow case. It’s all white, and ghastly.

It registers, slowly but surely, that Kirishima is not in his room. That the beeping is a machine sitting beside him, with red lights blinking and flashing and somehow mocking him. There’s even a needle sticking out of his hand, leading to an IV drip, and his head – oh hell – his head feels like someone’s stuffed cotton in it. It’s unnaturally heavy, and the soft strands of red from his unspiked hair tickle his forehead every time he tries to move.

With a lengthy exhale, Kirishima takes a moment to clear his head, trying to remember what happened. He’s in a hospital, this much is obvious- but why?

His eyes keep shutting so he lets them stay closed, taking a break before mustering up enough strength to open them and actually look around. A warmth, familiar and welcome, is pressing into his other hand, the needleless one, and when he looks down, he sees a hand holding his own.

His eyes travel up, over the defined muscles and the toned mass, the curve of the person’s shoulder and the broad neck before settling on his face, and Kirishima’s breath stutters.

He’s never seen Bakugou sleep. It’s not lack of opportunity so much as it is missed opportunities, but a sleeping Bakugou looks nothing like the one awake. He’s peaceful, face smooth and eyebrows relaxed, mouth slightly parted and nose twitching every few seconds. Kirishima wishes he could take a picture or at least store this in his mind forever and ever, but he doesn’t want to move. He wants Bakugou to sleep, if only a moment longer.

Bakugou wakes up a few minutes later anyway, blinking against the sunlight filtering in. His eyebrows pinch in the middle and he squeezes Kirishima’s hand a little too hard, earning him a tiny yelp.

He jumps like he’s heard a gunshot, and his eyes go comically wide when he sees Kirishima awake.

“Y-y-you-“

“Hi.”

Bakugou’s mouth opens and closes like a fish before he stands up and rips his hand out of Kirishima’s hold, looking positively livid.

“What the actual fuck were you thinking, you asshole? Is there absolutely nothing in that big ass cranium of yours? Why the fuc-“

“Sorry to interrupt,” Kirishima grunts, “but what exactly happened? I don’t remember.”

Bakugou looks at him like he’s crazy before turning around and walking out the door, leaving it slightly ajar. Kirishima hears a few explosions outside a couple minutes later before Bakugou comes storming into the room, looking calmer and madder simultaneously.

“Uraraka was in trouble, and you tried saving her, and nearly died.”

Kirishima’s eyebrows pinch together. “Oh.”

“Oh? OH? You’ve been unconscious for nearly three days! Your quirk kicked in just before impact, but you still took so much internal damage. So many surgeries and goddamn doctors and fucking tubes. Fucki-“

“Bakugou.”

Bakugou snaps, “What?”

Kirishima opens his palm, wiggling his fingers a little. Everything hurts- his head, his arms and his legs, his stomach, his back. Even the fingers stretched open and waiting.

Bakugou doesn’t say a word, sliding back into his seat and taking Kirishima’s hand in his own. He leans forward till his head is touching the mattress, right next to Kirishima’s arm.

“…. Thought you were dead.”

Kirishima squeezes his hand, feels his heart clench.

“Can’t die just yet. Who’d take care of your crusty ass?”

Bakugou looks up slowly, and his eyes are brimming with unshed tears. Kirihshima smiles at him apologetically, sniffling a little himself.

He sighs softly. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

Bakugou gets up slowly and gingerly sits beside Kirishima, the bed dipping in the middle. His free hand moves up to cup Kirishima’s face, tenderly, like he’s something delicate and fragile and something that deserves to be treated with care.

Kirishima’s never felt such love in his life.

“Then don’t fucking do it again.”

Bakugou leans forward till his forehead is pressed to Kirishima’s and Kirishima chuckles, wincing when his stomach pulls uncomfortably.

“No promises.”

“I hate you.”

“Me too.”

It’s not a confession, but Kirishima wouldn’t have it any other way.

~

“and then- oye, Bakugou, are you even listening?”

They’re in Kirishima’s manly room, chilling on his bed, and Kirishima’s been going on and on about crimson riot, his ultimate inspiration when he realizes Bakugou’s been uncharacteristically mum the entire time.

He looks down just when he’s about to shake him and freezes.

Mouth slightly ajar, nose twitching, eyebrows relaxed. Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki is asleep atop him, snuggling like the gigantic cuddle monster he is, and Kirishima can’t help the rumble of laughter that bubbles from his chest.

Bakugou’s sprawled all over him, leg thrown over his hip and feet tangled, arms wrapped around his waist, face on his chest. Kirishima reaches for the wall near the bed and feels around before hitting the switch, drowning them in darkness. He struggles for a little while before successfully covering them with the duvet, Bakugou still asleep. He kisses him on the forehead lovingly, whispers a soft Goodnight idiot and pulls him closer.

He’s in love with Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki, and it isn’t perfect; far from it.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[angeryboy]

Kintsukuroi

Part 12- So Sleeping Dogs Lie

RECAP since it's been 1000 years since I updated last: ⦁ Spinner and Dabi start fighting because Spinner dared bring up Dabi's disappearance and the way he left everyone hanging. He also decides to insult Yuna, which is what REALLY sets Dabi off ⦁ You try to stop them fighting, but they're really intent on killing each other. ⦁ Yuna stops them, and then goes off on her own after talking with you for a moment. ⦁ You end up lying in bed most of the day, eager to hear from Tomura again. You text him and ask if you can talk later. ⦁ You're still unsettled by Yuna's distant behavior. She's been off since the night Dabi left. You can't figure out what he possibly could've said ⦁ We find out in a flashback that you and Hawks were assigned to the League of Villains in a double agent case, and how much you'd come to regret it, truly loving your new life with the league. ⦁ But you knew it had to end, especially if the hypnotization on Yuna was going to end. ⦁ Tomura finally calls you to find you crying and you two talk for several hours. ⦁ You finally find some peace in talking to him, which ends abruptly when Yuna knocks on the door ⦁ She drags you out of your room to get some fresh air and you end up in a big field where Yuna teases you a bit, knowing you were talking to Shiggy Diggy ⦁ You drift off to sleep, a dream revealing what you and Hawks were meeting about, the moments before Yuna tried to literally end his life. ⦁ It's also revealed what Hawks tells Yuna up in the air while you're out of earshot, about The Academy and not being able to save her(which I probably should've put somewhere else OOPS) ⦁ Hawks tells you to be careful and you tell him to fuck off ⦁ You wake up promptly and try to figure out if Yuna heard anything, as you tend to talk in your sleep ⦁ It doesn't seem like she does, but she's clearly upset about something. ⦁ You tell her you'll take her back to Dabi, betting ten bucks it'll cheer her up. She promises a stylish picture of Tomura in return ,which makes you wish you were invisible ⦁ CUE NEW CHAPTER GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

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Once you were back at the hideout, Yuna split promptly, her exact words being ‘I have to go annoy Dabi right this minute or I’ll die.’ You plopped down on your bed, still a little shaken from reopening the wounds from that night. 

Why did you even tell Hawks? You were supposed to distract him, not bare your soul. Though there was a more pressing question at hand. Were you going to tell Yuna? Did she hear something while you were sleeping?

And now there was another detail you missed. Dabi. Why the hell did Dabi just leave? He was supposed to be helping you. And somehow it just ended with you being the one close to death.

The night you came to Dabi for help advice was creeping its way into your mind. It was just supposed to be advice. It was just supposed to be ‘what would you do about Hawks?’ 

Jesus christ, not this again. I don’t wanna think about this shit again... ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“So Hawks wants to meet up with you? I suppose I can help. I’ll go with you. Don’t tell him I’m coming though,” Dabi mused.

“What exactly should I tell him?”

“Up to you. Look, I’m gonna be honest. I’ve been working with Hawks, but I don’t trust that fucker as far as I can throw him. I’m just using him to do my bidding.”

“What exactly are you saying then?” The revelation that that was where Dabi was probably going when he disappeared hit you. So you two had traded places then. Now Dabi was checking in with Hawks and you were like a ghost.

“Well, if he’s tryin’ to get in contact with you, my best guess is that he needs to go.” Your eyes widened at the implication.

“Are you saying we should kill him?” He smirked a bit.

“Let’s say yes. You just do the talking. I’ll take care of the rest.” He didn’t even give a second look as he turned around.

“Wait! Wh-what happens when the Hero Commission finds out?”

“That flimsy excuse for a justice system? Probably nothing. They probably won’t even realize he’s gone. By the time they do, we’ll be gone too. And if worse comes to worse, I’ll take the heat.”

“Fine. What happens if you can’t fight him?”

“Tch. Are you underestimating me? I’ll be fine. And he’ll be burnt to a crisp. That’s what you want anyway, right?” He searched your face for an answer but you didn’t really have one.

“I-guess?”

“You better be a little more sure than that.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he left.

You were too nervous to ask any more questions, and too nervous to give an answer. Perhaps it was a brash decision, but even if your answer was no, would Dabi stop?

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You decided it was best not to dwell on any of it, though your anger was starting to get the best of you. How could he just fall through on a plan? His own plan? Were you even actually mad that he did? Or were you just angry because you didn’t get what you wanted? You instead chose sleep over plotting how to best hit Dabi over the head with something heavy. For once, it was dreamless. 

 You trotted downstairs and everyone else already seemed to be ready to go. “Good morning sunshine!” Yuna chirped. “Today we meet the mystery special guest. Well, not mystery, but like I said, I wasn’t listening. He’s supposed to contact us first, so we’ll see how that goes-” Before Yuna could even finish her sentence, her phone rang.

“Hello?” She frowned for a moment before putting the phone on speaker.

“Good morning everyone. I’m Doctor Kyudai. I’m sure Shigaraki introduced me already. It’s time to get down to business.” His voice didn’t ring any bells or set off any alarms. Finally, a person you’d actually never met before.

“Shigaraki has a request of all of you, but has asked me to help in making matters easier. I’m sure you all remember Gigantomachia, yes?”

A collective ‘yes’ resounded. Well, from everyone but you. Must’ve been before you were there, or on the mission you’d been forced to sit out.

“Shigaraki believes he can tame this beast, the one who answers only to All for One. And he’ll need your help. I have a package on the way to you with items to help you out. My assistant will be at your door shortly.”

Right on cue, there was a knock at the door. You opened it to a single, fairly small package, staring stupidly at it. Dabi grabbed it out of your hands and shook it around a bit before scoffing.

“How is this tiny thing gonna help us?”

“Patience. And don’t shake it, boy.” He set the package down like his father had just scolded him. “Gigantomachia has an incredibly large amount of stamina, of course. Almost unbeatable. Open the box.”

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

You found yourself on the roof after the meeting. The door creaked open, revealing Dabi.

‘Huh? What’re you doing out here?”

“Chillin’, clearly.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Thought you were one of the smarter ones.”

“Wow. I didn’t come up here to be roasted.” He leaned against the door lazily, lighting up a cigarette.

“Seems like the damage is already done.”

“Jesus christ, did I do something to you?”

“I just- I’m thinking about how our plan got ruined. And you didn’t even try to stop her.”

“Are you..seriously talking about meeting Hawks on the bridge?” He raised a brow like you’d said something unbelievable. You just left him with a nod. “The fuck was I supposed to do? Yuna took off like a bat out of hell.”

“You could’ve at least stayed. You told me you wanted to get rid of Hawks.” You struggled to reclaim your composure. Every time you looked at him during the meeting, you began to wonder exactly what kind of man he was, if he was the same one when he was with Yuna. You remembered his face as he walked away for two weeks. You remembered how he didn’t even try to get to Hawks. In fact, he told him to fly off.

“Things don’t always go the way we want them to princess. Sometimes people change their minds. Not sure what it is to you, anyway. You didn’t suggest killing him. And you never gave me a straight answer, so of course I didn’t kill him.” He stared you down just a tad too coldly for your liking, none of the usual playfulness in his tone. “I admit Yuna threw a wrench in things, but she wouldn’t have let us just murder him regardless. Where is this coming from anyway? It’s been weeks and you haven’t said a word. So why now?”

“I shoved it under the rug because there were a lot of other things happening, in case you didn’t notice.” Your arms crossed and you could feel the rage you were flying into.

“Wh-getting into a fight? I have bad news for you if one person tryin’ to kill you makes you upset.”

“It wasn’t just one person! It was Yuna!” Obviously Dabi didn’t understand the true gravity of the situation, but he should’ve at least understood that. He knew Yuna was a friend to you.

“Get it together. That’s literally not my problem. You should probably take it up with her. But I’ll tell you now, if you do, I won’t be far behind.” The threat in his voice sent a shiver up your spine, but it lit a fire in your chest. It was getting hot. “I didn’t follow through this one time. You’re not the only one with plans.” He rolled his eyes, which just added fuel to the fire, and you felt your body shoot up on its own, straight towards him. Were you going crazy or something? Since when did something as simple as someone being an ass set you off like this? “I wouldn’t,” he threatened, a hand easily finding its way around your wrist. And it was heating up steadily.

“Fuck you, Dabi. You’re an ass. I don’t fucking know what Yuna sees in you. I don’t know what anyone fucking sees in you.” A swell of fire consumed the right half of his body, a look in his eyes that you’d never seen before. Was this the Dabi that Yuna warned you about?

“Don’t drag her into whatever the fuck this is. You know nothing.” His grip on your wrist got tighter.

“Let me go you fucking psychopath!” Pulling your arm out was no use. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

I didn’t wanna have to do this, but if we’re gonna fight, you leave me no choice.

When you opened them again, he was staring straight at you. “Let me go right now.” For a second, his eyes clouded over and his hand dropped before the stupor lifted. He just took a sharp breath and turned around, hand on the door.

“If you ever use your quirk on me again, I’ll kill you.” He didn’t even look at you as he slammed the door.

You had to sit back down and think for a moment. Not that Dabi necessarily had a fantastic approach, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. And after a few minutes of thought, you ended up glad he didn’t kill Hawks anyway. So what was the problem? Was it just the swell of emotions when you thought about all the missteps that led you to this point, all the cunning and cutting corners and keeping secrets? All the mistrust bred from wondering just how much of this easily hateable side of yourself was visible? Was it just that you didn’t really wanna see anyone you knew get hurt? Of course you knew you were acting out of fear.

You didn’t want Hawks dead, though you’d rather have nothing to do with him at this point. You didn’t want Dabi dead, or Yuna, or Tomura, or Twice or Toga- none of their lives were worth all the things you were trying to hide. But you didn’t want Yuna finding out about the free will you stole right out from under her without a second thought either. You didn’t want her finding out about you and Dabi collaborating murder, sure as you were that Dabi never mentioned that part. You just- didn’t want to hurt her any more than you already did.

Good god what is wrong with me? I’m acting like a fucking fool out here. I gotta be careful who I threaten.

No one. You had no one you could just be honest with. Maybe you could, but it was far too late for such things now.

Get your act together. You wanna be a villain, then be one.

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

Hawks twirled his phone around in his hand. It felt heavy. He had three calls to make, and none of them were going to be pleasant.

“Tsukauchi. I have some bad news for ya.”

“What’s the problem, Hawks?”

“Himaro’s gone rogue.” There was a telling silence on the other end. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

“One hundred percent. She tried to have me killed,like, for real,” he chuckled.

“Hawks, that’s a very serious accusation to make against an undercover agent. We won’t be making any moves of our own until we’re sure.”

“That’s fine. I’m just letting you know that at the very least, she needs to be taken out of the field.”

“We’ll assess the situation.” Tsukauchi hung up without another word. One call down. The next had to be her.

"Himaro."

"The hell do you want?"

"Hello to you too. I just wanna know why you did it. Why Yuna? What was she doing when you found her?"

"Why? Gonna tell Tsukauchi I'm a traitor?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," he smiled. "He told you to do what you had to do. This one's personal. I'm sure you guessed already, but if you didn't, I've been looking for her. For a long time I've been wondering what she was up to."

"I swear to god Hawks-"

"I'm asking for me. Come on." She didn't respond for a long time.

"You swear to god you're not gonna use this against me?"

"I know it's weighing you down. Maybe if you talk you'll feel better."

"You're not exactly trustworthy."

"So the pot calls the kettle black, I see."

"Tch. She was looking for some guy, I guess. Some dude named Touya. And you. She was looking for you first and foremost. i didn't find it particularly relevant though. She never said why."

Touya. There was that name again. The one that rang in the wind.

"I see. You didn't think to ask why she was looking for me?"

"Pfft- no. I didn't exactly care. I just saw her use her powers and knew she could help me."

"What the hell? What if she was up to something?"

"She was scared and presumably defenseless. It was spur of the moment decision that I regret. A lot. I told her to forget about all of it. So it's not like it really mattered if she was up to something or not."

It was like pieces of a puzzle were coming together, but it was just a few out of thousands. No big picture was coming into focus.

"Yeah. Nothing relevant to the mission in there anyway. But thanks, I guess." He was hoping some sort of information would slip. Something he could use, but she gave much the same story she did on the bridge.

One call left.

"Dabi! Long time no see. I've got a deal for you."

"I don't make deals with bird brains."

"For the last time it's just the wings-never mind. I have some information on Himaro that you might wanna hear."

"The fuck do I care what she does? As long as she doesn't try to kill me I'm good."

"It's about Yuna too." There was a long silence on the other end.

"Midnight, bird boy. Don't be late. And don't pull any stunts." He hung up abruptly. -------

"This better be worth my damn time."

"Oh, relax. When have I ever given you information that wasn't?" Dabi shot him a look.

"Get to it." The cold look in his eyes was astonishing to Keigo. How could he look at one person with such a fire in his eyes and such a hatred for the next person?

"Okay. I'll start with Himaro then. She's supposed  to be a double agent." There was a spark in his widened eyes, but it disappeared quickly. 

"Not that surprising, really. You're a double agent too. And the hero commission is up to much shadier shit than we are." Dabi shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, not sure that's true but I digress. She told me she's not really feeling' it anymore, basically. I don't know if she's lying or-"

"I don't give a shit what she's up to. If we're completely honest, all she needs to do is not fuck with the people I actually care about and she can keep her life."

"Yeesh. I'm tryin' to help you." Dabi continued to stare daggers into him, but stayed silent. 

 "Let's move on then, since that wasn't shocking enough for you. Yuna." He tensed up. It was why he even came, after all. "She's hypnotized. By Himaro." He waited for some sort of physical reaction, but it never came. Instead there was a grit in his teeth as he spoke.

"What? How do you know that?"

"Himaro told me. She did it to have some help infiltrating, I guess. She said she was looking for me. And someone named Touya."

Dabi felt a knock in his chest. So she was looking for him this whole time. And Himaro didn't even realize she'd led Yuna right to him.Realistically, he knew Himaro had no idea he himself was the rumored Touya, but he had to assume she was so up in arms because it spelled disaster for her hypnotization. It was possible that if she found the people she was originally looking for, it had to mean something in her was trying to break free. And with Himaro pretty frayed at the ends from her apparent charade, he was guessing it wouldn't be long. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to get her to talk.

"Dabi?"

"Why should I trust you?"

"Jeez. Why would I lie about it?"

He just shrugged. "I don't know. Why would you even help me out in the first place?"

"Just- I'm sharing pretty relevant information here don't you think? Why would I lie about Yuna? What would be the point?"

"Like I'd fucking know. I have to go. Is that all?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

As much as he hated the hero standing before him, he was grateful for this particular bit of information. He didn't want to believe it, and he was beyond furious, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Hawks knew what he was talking about for once.

"Oh, do me a favor, bird boy?" Dabi started to walk away, but turned for just a moment.

"What's up?"

"I need another fight with Endeavor. Just me and Himaro. Tell him you want her dead."

"Woah. You don't think that's a little much? She's not that­-"

"I have a theory I wanna test out. And it's not like you're in a position to talk your way out. No one's actually getting hurt. Not this time anyway."

"First of all, Endeavor's not some mindless killing machine. He doesn't just go around ordering death upon people." Dabi scoffed, knowing if anything Hawks said wasn't true, it was that. "Second of all, even if I do manage to get him to say yes, how the hell you gonna hold your own?"

While he wasn't thrilled with the implication, he decided to bite his tongue.

"She's got a hypnotic based quirk that she'll apparently use on anyone for any reason she sees fit. Your little double agent said the reason she joined was because of some shit Endeavor said to her. No matter how untrue it is, if she's got an act to keep up, she'll fight."

"You're gonna force her into a corner? That doesn't sound like a very good idea. She's not exactly-predictable."

"Maybe not. But at this point I know enough to know she's not willing to blow her cover. Even if she told you she changed her mind, she's assuming we don't know anything. She'll fight."

"The hell are you going for with this? What good will that even do? You won't find anything out that way, especially if she's dead!"

"I'm just testing out a theory. If it's true, you can consider yourself safe from me."

"What the-huh? I don't exactly consider you a threat." Dabi turned with a ferocious glint in his eye.

"You should."

"Hey I didn't mean it like that! I meant that I'm your only source of info!" He waved his hands in defense. Honestly, if anyone in the League was a genuine threat to him, it would absolutely be Dabi.

"You think I won't drop you like deadweight? I don't actually give a shit about the info you give me. Are you really that stupid? I don't trust you half as far as I can throw you. But I know you have some sort of connection to Yuna. I don't know what you would lie about just to have the hero commission jerk you off, but you wouldn't lie about her."

So polite, this one.

"I guess that's fair. I'm not promising you anything." Dabi began to walk away before he could do much else to object.

"Call me when the answer is yes. Honestly, the longer it takes, the better." This guy...he really expected Keigo to stage a fight for him. So he could..do what, exactly. Prove a point? Get Himaro killed? But if Dabi asked, he had to deliver. Somehow.

When Dabi returned, Himaro was fast asleep on the couch. He thought momentarily about how long he'd have to shake her to give her a concussion, but if Hawks did what he asked, he wouldn't have to lift but a finger. He opted to just get some sleep for once. According to Yuna, the big boss would be back tomorrow.

[thehallofgame]

Review: The World Ends with You

Release: 2007

My Rating: 8

              This Sqaure Enix game for the nintendo DS was a bold departure for the developer, and a surprising success. The World Ends with You takes place entirely in an alternate version of Tokyo’s Shibuya district. Blue eyed, orange haired Neku wakes in the middle of a crowded crosswalk in the center of the packed shopping district. No one can see or hear him and he has no memory of how he’s come to be there. It soon becomes apparent that he’s under attack by strange, tribal tattoo ink decorated monsters. Only by forging a magical pact with another teenager who can, at last, see him does he gain the ability to fight back.

              It turns out Neku and his newly minted partner, Shiki, have both been transported to a limbo-like Underground version of Shibuya. They can see and hear the people in the real world, but can only interact with them through the psychic powers they’ve been granted. The two, and several other teenagers, are contestants in the sinister ‘Reaper’s Game’ where they must fight to survive and complete arbitrary challenges every day to win a chance to return to life. In exchange to play each contestant has had their most prized possession taken and held hostage. The World Ends with You sets a tone that’s saturated with teenage angst, impending doom and emotional extremes. To its infinite credit the game commits to that and it pays off in a huge way. Despite featuring teenagers as its leads it doesn’t pull any punches.

              Neku begins the game a rabid introvert, hating everyone and everything outside the confines of his oversized headphones. He is joined initially by Shiki, a trendy, cheerful and apparently vapid girl. They butt heads and Neku decides to hate her guts. Yet over the next several adventures the two develop a true partnership formed of necessity that feels both natural and important. Neku’s relationships to Shiki, other players and even the adversarial Reapers develop in parallel with his emotional growth. Despite being, or at least being inspired by, the stereotypical angry and sullen teenage boy the game doesn’t treat him or his feelings as a joke. He’s written authentically and he feels real, from his desperate desire to be alone and escape the constant barrage of other people’s opinions to his starry eyed adoration of a mysterious street artist. The fight to return to life, the friends and enemies he makes, the swarming thoughts of the living people surrounding him that he can now hear all force Neku to expand his beliefs and thinking to include others.

              Interestingly the villainous counterpoints to Neku and his companions are actually humorous and exaggerated caricatures. It should shatter the tense and deadly tone of the game but in fact is handled in such a way as to reflect the control and capriciousness adults, even immature and irrational ones, can have over teenagers. The reapers’ arbitrary and cruel decisions mirror the choices adults make in young people’s lives that completely override what the teenagers in their care wanted or needed. The game manages to convey a poignant reminder of what it feels like to be fourteen and surrounded by urgency and the lack of agency to really control the events in your life.

              The story itself is framed around people and relationships. Different Reapers with different gimmicky personalities take the stage over the course of the game. With each new boss comes a new partner for Neku who acts as a foil to exemplify whatever portion of emotional growth he’s experiencing at that point. Shiki and Beat are both extremely likable and surprisingly nuanced characters that the player will grow to love. Meanwhile Joshua is written to be unlikable, cryptic and capricious. The Joshua arc takes place in the middle of the game and unfortunately drags out and slows the otherwise snappy pace of the other two major arcs. It involves a lot of backtracking and petty questing that seem to eat up hour after hour with no new story content.

              Luckily the game has a spate of customizable options to control length and difficulty of combat encounters which goes a ways to improving the pacing. Combat itself is optional aside from specific slay quests and boss encounters, though as in most games fighting is essential to gaining experience points, money and new weaponry, which in this game are represented by pins. Interestingly, though contestants in the Reaper’s Game are given telekinetic powers they can only use them by channeling them through colorful pins. Each pin has a specific attack tied to it that is used via the bottom touch screen. Players tap, slash and press on enemies, the field or Neku to utilize attack, defensive and healing abilities. Unfortunately some techniques are much easier to use than others. I couldn’t get a single pin that instructed me to scratch the screen to work on my ‘New’ 3DS and I’m not sure if that’s player error or a compatibility error or both. Other pins want the player to shout or blow into the microphone which was a pretty unrealistic expectation for a mobile game. Considering I played most of this on a road trip through the Australian outback I can also comment that the combat style is difficult to use during plane or car travel due to the relative precision needed. Additionally, if you’re considering playing this you may want to consider putting down a screen protector or switching to a soft stylus first. All the jabbing and swiping at the screen can lead to scratches if someone gets overexcited while playing. My first DS still bears the scars from playthroughs as a teenager. As a more restrained adult the worst that happened was an annoying tendency for finger oil and dust to reduce the combat precision in the game without frequent screen cleaning. The combat pins can be arranged into multiple decks that can be switched by holding shoulder buttons in combat to switch out abilities on the fly. As pins are used they too will gain experience and level up, some will even evolve into stronger pins with expanded abilities. Meanwhile, the player is also expected to control the partner character on the top screen. They attack via combos performed on the arrow keys, with the expectation the player will perform certain combos to unlock a joint limit break attack that does tremendous damage and restores HP.

              As the game progresses it adds new skills and ways for the partner to combo and dodge on the top screen but with the average player only having one set of eyes it becomes a lot to handle. Luckily if the player doesn’t touch the directional pad for a few seconds during combat an AI will take over for the player. It is, however, slightly slower than just button mashing and doesn’t do a better job of combing that just mashing randomly so I found myself not using the AI. The combat is engrossing, yes, but a little too wearying and demanding for travel.

              What it lacks in playability the combat makes up with customizable difficulty. A sliding scale allows the player to sacrifice part of their HP going into battle in return for higher drop rates. Additionally over the course of the game easy, normal and hard enemy difficulties are all unlocked and can be switched between at will. Finally, there is a ‘player pin’ that is pictured at the bottom right of the screen. It’s given to all players in the reaper’s game. Taping it in the field allows the player to read normal humans thoughts, and even implant suggestions, but it also reveals the tattoo-like symbols representing enemies (called Noise). The player must tap one of the symbols to initiate combat with it. Eventually the player gains the ability to chain increasing numbers of battles by tapping multiple symbols. Battles become harder with each symbol chained, but also yield greater rewards.

              The reason for the focus on pins is a huge commitment to turning the vast and varied street style of Shibuya into a game mechanic. Fourteen brands of clothing and accessories fill the streets and shops of Shibuya, and in different districts different trends hold sway. Clothing and accessories provide bonuses from increased defense to increased experience gain. Matching the player’s wardrobe and pin loadout to the trend will yield bonuses to attack, while being dressed in a passe brand will debuff the characters. Eventually it becomes apparent that the player’s dressing choices can act on the Real World’s trends to make the players preferred brands trendier and more powerful. Street food also features prominently. Food is eaten and digested over the course of multiple battles, giving temporary buffs and permanent increases to stats. It’s a fun feature, but it does cap the amount of food a character can consume in a real life 24 hour period, which is frustrating to play on a long trip where you may want to marathon the game.

              Overall it’s a delightful gimmick enhanced by the game’s distinctive visual style. Combining manga and street-art influences, the World Ends with You is filled with beautiful, distinctive characters and art. Unrealistically proportioned people with candy-colored hair are decked out in the cutting edge of mid-2000’s street style. It’s all done in bright colors and chunky black outlines. Cut scenes and dialogue scenes are beautiful and fun to look at. But the pixelated sprites that run around the map and fight in combat are less attractive and look aged and blurry. The audio quality also seems unfortunately low in this game. The occasional voiced piece of dialogue sounds grainy and tinny and I would rather it not have been in at all. The varied spate of pop and hip hop music in the game is marginally better to listen to though it as well feels low-quality. While another touch that does wonders for the game’s atmosphere and clearly was a labor of love the distinctive music draws attention to how repetitive the songs are and how often they’re reused. It doesn’t help that the song switches every combat, area or opened menu which keeps the player from ignoring the background tracks. Nevertheless, The World Ends with You manages to build a complete and compelling world to frame its story.

              The World Ends with You is another piece that is more art than game. What it lacks in its fiddly and over involved gameplay it makes up for in a small but fully realized world. The whacky concept is carried with commitment and aplomb that belies how silly it sounds. Age has begun to show around the edges but it’s a great nostalgia piece, especially for people who were young when they played it the very first time.