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five-rivers · 3 years ago

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Long Night in the Valley Chapter 15

It's been a bit, hasn't it?

Toshinori pushed himself up off the ground with trembling arms. Although, by the position of the sun, it hadn’t been for long, he’d blacked out when—

“Oh, no,” said Toshinori. His head throbbed at the sound, making the edges of his vision go dark and fuzzy.

When All for One had broken through into the shared mindscape.

“Oh, no,” he repeated.

Where was Izuku? He had to find—Oh, thank goodness, Izuku was right there. He let out a sigh of relief.

His relief was short-lived. Izuku, to put it lightly, did not look well. His eyes were open, but only glazed slivers. His breath was coming shallow and fast, not quite to the point of hyperventilating, but it was a close thing. His skin was pale, except for deep, bruise-like circles under his eyes. He was sweating more than Toshinori had ever seen him sweat (which was really saying something; Izuku broke out into nervous sweats with some frequency). Perhaps most concerningly, he was shaking like a leaf.

Izuku was, Toshinori realized, still maintaining the effect of Two’s quirk.

He tried to reach inside himself, contact his predecessors, but swiftly pulled his mental fingers back, as if they had been burned. Bad idea.

“Izuku,” he said, “can you hear me?”

Izuku made a small, pained noise that tore at Toshinori’s heart.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” he said. Izuku didn’t answer, but then Toshinori didn’t expect him to.

The simple act forced Toshinori to call on the embers of One for All. Not enough to make his muscles swell, but enough to give him the strength of an ordinary, healthy man. His muscles and his remaining intact lung screamed in protest, not to mention his scars. He ignored them.

He stumbled forward, priorities shuffling themselves. They’d been trying to escape, but if Izuku was this ill… he needed a doctor. An exorcist might be a good idea, too, what with All for One running around in their heads.

But to get a doctor, they’d have to put themselves in commission hands, and Toshinori could feel the echoes of Two and Three telling him exactly how stupid that would be.

The commission had sent Hawks after Izuku. Toshinori had no doubt they’d throw him in Tartarus, and the treatment of criminals in Tartarus was one of the few things Toshinori had publicly disagreed with the HPSC on in his hero persona. Not that it had gone anywhere. He simply hadn’t had the time to really push it and the commission had somehow managed to paint him as somehow too good, too forgiving, to be trusted when it came to the disposition of terrible villains.

“’ll be’kay,” mumbled Izuku, the sentiment clearer over their mental link. “N’ospital.”

“Okay,” said Toshinori, slightly breathless. “Let’s—Let’s keep going, then. Find a good place to camp out, far away from Todoroki Touya, here. Yep.” He was aware he was rambling, and needlessly at that, but he couldn’t help it.

One foot in front of the other.

Was that a car running?

Toshinori, keen on getting help and care for Izuku, even if it meant hijacking a car, changed directions slightly. Of course, it would be ideal if there were friendly bystanders who didn’t believe the hero commissions lies and had a medical license and a healing quirk, but Toshinori would be more than happy with—

He stopped. Laughed. Laughed some more, a little hysterically. There, abandoned in a ditch like a beached sailing ship, was Vlad King’s much abused car.

Sure, it would have been reported stolen by now, and the police and heroes would be looking for it, but that was a problem for future-Toshinori. Present-Toshinori, on the other hand, was simply grateful for the windfall, and wary – the presence of the car could indicate the proximity of the League of Villains.

He gently put Izuku down in the passenger seat, turned the car off and made sure it was in the appropriate gear, then walked around to the back of the car and lifted it out of the ditch.

If his muscles had been complaining before—

He staggered back to the driver’s seat, leaning heavily on the side of the car the whole time. Blood dripped from his mouth. “This is nothing, my boy, nothing,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, as he felt Izuku’s concern press heavily against him. “Used to have worse every day of the week.”

Toshinori got the sense that Izuku was not, in fact, reassured. Nevertheless, he grinned, pouring every drop of his fabled ‘everything will be alright’ smile into the expression. Even if Izuku couldn’t see it, Toshinori needed some of the comfort that came with donning a familiar mask

“Let’s see if we can get to the Wild Wild Pussycats today, after all.”

“Eri-chan,” began Abe, tapping together her papers. She’d drawn the short stick. Ito was interviewing one of the older students, and Abe got the feral child.

“No,” said Eri.

“I didn’t even ask you a question yet.”

“Only people I like get to call me -chan. That’s the rule. Prinzible Nezu said so.”

“Principal,” corrected Nezu, cheerfully, like the unhelpful rodent rat bastard he was. If only she could have gotten him kicked out… but, no, he and Present Mic were both sitting in on the interview.

“PrincipalNezu told me, and he’s in charge.”

“You tell ‘em, Eri-chan!” said Present Mic, just a little more loudly than was comfortable.

Eri nodded to let Present Mic know the noise-cancelling earplugs were working.

“In this situation,” said Abe, sternly, “I am in charge.”

The girl tilted her head, and suddenly her expression went from ‘pouting child’ to ‘superior being contemplating an uppity insect.’

“Eri-san,” began Abe.

“No,” said Eri.

Abe looked up incredulously. What was wrong with -san?

She decided to ignore it. “You spoke with—”

Eri began to scream like a teakettle whistling.

“Can’t you control her?” Abe demanded, turning to Nezu, who chittered.

“This is very good progress!” he said, barely loud enough to hear over the ongoing shriek. “Before now, Eri-chan was too hesitant to act out or misbehave in any way, fearing the punishment that her former and completely unqualified caretakers would inflict upon her.”

Abe didn’t know which was more longwinded, the still-screaming child or the rodent principal. Her body was so tiny, how was she still screaming?

Eri clicked off the Present Mic-themed combo audio recorder and player in her pocket at the same time she shut her mouth. Principal Nezu was right! This was fun! At least, it would be if Deku was here.

“I get to pick what you call me,” said Eri, patiently. Since this person wasn’t smart enough to see that Deku was only the best hero ever and not a bad guy, she’d have to explain slowly.

The person evidently wasn’t even smart enough to breathe, as she was slowly turning purple.

“What,” she said, in stilted tones, “would you like me to call you.”

Eri let the smile Aizawa had taught her spread across her face. “Eri-sama.”

“Is that a joke?”

“It’s very important to respect the boundaries children establish, Abe-san,” said Nezu.

Katsuki blinked. It was about time he woke up. Stupid dream time dilation or whatever. Stupid boring soy sauce face and his stupid boring mindscape dreamscape whatever hellscape. There was a limit to what you could do in a square mile that mostly consisted of a tape-covered jungle gym and a boring apartment building. Katsuki had found it, and, after spending a good period of time being angry about it, had decided to go to sleep.

Dream time dilation or whatever the commission proctor had been going on about after the first billionty-and-one stupid hours, it didn’t matter, Katsuki hated it, it was just taking too damn long. If he didn’t have to do this to keep his provisional license, he’d tell the commission to shove this stupid pointless training up it’s—

About a minute after he should have twigged to something wrong, Katsuki realized the ceiling was too familiar.

He sat up. Why the hell was he in UA’s infirmary?

And not just him, about half the class was here with him.

He scowled. So, something had gone wrong with the test after all, and it looked like Deku wasn’t involved. Stupid nerd would hold it over him.

“Hey!” shouted Katsuki, spotting Recovery Girl. “What the f—”

“Language!” scolded Recovery Girl, shrilly, practically teleporting across the room to jab Katsuki with her cane. “You’re in a school, young man.”

“I know that!” protested Katsuki. “But why the f—” he faltered under the force Recovery Girl’s gaze even as she started to run through the checklist she usually did for people who’d been knocked out like wimps. “Fudge. Am I here.”

“I think the more pertinent question is, how are you awake? There should be at least one more hour, if not two, left to that quirk.”

“I went to sleep,” said Katsuki, attempting to fend her off.

“Well, you wouldn’t be waking up if—”

“No. In the shhhtupid dreamscape thing. I went to sleep.”

Recovery Girl paused for a moment, then sighed. “I don’t suppose you were the one whose mind they were exploring?”

“No. That was soy sauce face. Why are we back here? And where’s the nerd?”

Recovery Girl seemed to droop at his question, and a heaviness filled the air. “That’s a long story.”

“Did we get attacked by Dusty McGee again?”

“No.”

“So, what did happen?” snapped Katsuki. “The nerd break out a new quirk in the middle of the training or something?”

Recovery Girl’s eye twitched, and she sat down on a nearby stool, taking a deep breath.

“The hero commission suspected Midoriya of working with the League of Villains and attempted to use the training to interrogate him. Under the influence of at least one mental quirk, Midoriya fled. At about the same time, All Might left and met up with him, after which the commission accused Midoriya of kidnapping All Might. They haven’t given him an S-Rank villain classification, but I suspect that’s just because the paperwork hasn’t gone through yet.”

All right. Honestly, with his creepy stalker notebooks and obsessive All Might shrine room, Deku probably seemed like a prime kidnapping suspect to an outsider, but considering that Katsuki had witnessed Deku and All Might’s sickeningly sweet interpersonal interactions, somehow managing to be a goddamn third wheel to some sort of surrogate parent-child found family drama nonsense…

“Has anyone told ‘em it’s more likely the other way around? And that if it was, it’d probably be for the nerd’s own good, too?”

Recovery Girl nodded tiredly.

“They hiding out here?”

“Midoriya is a wanted criminal.”

“So what?”

“We’re a school.”

“You’ve lost me.”

Recovery Girl sighed. “No, Midoriya is not here.”

“Well, that’s stupid. What are we doing about it?”

“Right now? You are doing nothing. Commission investigators are in the building, and it would be better if they thought you were still unconscious.”

Katsuki grumbled. “Should go and try to bring him back.”

“What, so he can be arrested?”

“No!” said Katsuki, defensively. “But he’s probably running around out there making everything worse!”

“Bakugo,” said Recovery Girl, patting his leg, “from what I’ve heard, the only thing that could possibly make this worse is being found.”

“Can you describe to me the circumstances under which you lost your quirk?” asked Ito, the other commission investigator.

“Sure!” said Mirio, hoping the man couldn’t detect his discomfort at the subject. Even if he’d made that split second choice to shield Eri with his body with full knowledge of the consequences, to jump in front of Nemoto’s bullet, it was still a traumatic experience. It still hurt, even if he didn’t regret it.

He took a deep breath. “Well, it was during the Shie Hassaikai raid. I had gone ahead to confront Chisaki Kai and rescue Eri. There were a few other yakuza with him, members of the Eight Bullets. Nemoto Shin, Sakaki Deidoro, and, ah, Chrono, I think. I can’t remember his proper name.”

“That’s fine. Please continue.”

“I engaged with Sakaki and Nemoto while Chisaki and Chrono went ahead. I was affected by their quirks, but managed to get by… It was a hard battle!” he interjected, suddenly. He belatedly realized he wanted to draw out this line of questioning, and dove into a supremely detailed description of his fight with Sakaki and Nemoto. It was funny, too, and he saw Ito getting sucked in.

Sir would have been proud.

“And then, I chased after Chrono and Chisaki!” said Mirio, gesticulating wildly to illustrate his movements. He continued narrating the battle, the wild swings of fate, Eri’s hope and fear, the strikes and counterstrikes! Just like when he’d first debriefed after the raid.

Weirdly enough, going through it like this also made him feel better. Less like he was reliving a terrible, painful moment in his life, and more like he was telling a very dramatic story.

“—aaaaaaand,” he wrapped up, “Chisaki tossed the gun with the erasure bullets to Nemoto – I hadn’t realized he was still conscious. I’d been too worried about getting to Eri.” He shrugged. “I got shot.”

“Despite your quirk?”

“I didn’t want Eri to be hit.”

“Even though the loss of her quirk might have been a blessing for her? Considering the difficulty she has using it and the pain it gives her.”

Mirio felt his smile settle into something blander and more dangerous than his usual beaming grins. “Are you suggesting that I should have let a six-year-old be shot?”

“Not at all,” said Ito, making a mark. “Now, where was Midoriya at this time?”

“He hadn’t caught up to us, yet,” said Mirio. “He was with Sir.”

“Who?”

“Sir Nighteye,” clarified Mirio. “Before that, they were with Rock Lock and some of the others, I believe.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

“I wasn’t there, so… no, not really. But the exact situation should be on file, from our debrief, and Rock Lock can confirm or clarify.”

“Only the parts he saw,” said Ito. “Did you try to use your quirk after that? Or did you simply assume it was gone?”

“Of course, I tried to use it!” said Mirio, feeling somewhat offended. “I’d trained it to be reflexive. Right after, I kept thinking my quirk would protect me, and moving too slow to dodge attacks. I got really beaten up.”

“And was this before or after Midoriya Izuku arrived?”

“Before, mostly,” said Mirio. “It isn’t like the fight stopped the minute he showed up.”

“And you are certain your quirk stopped working before Midoriya arrived.”

“I’m sure.”

“How did you know you were hit by a permanent quirk-erasing bullet?” asked Ito.

“Well, when my quirk didn’t come back we were pretty sure,” said Mirio.

“But you didn’t know beforehand, for certain, that the bullets were permanent.”

Crap. Mirio had screwed up somewhere in there. He could feel it.

“I think Nemoto and Chisaki were shouting at each other about it during the fight,” said Mirio. “They were pretty proud of it.”

“But you did not know, for sure, that your quirk loss was permanent,” insisted Ito. “There was no way for you to know that their claims about the bullets were true.”

“I mean… not really,” said Mirio. “But, again, here I am without a quirk.”

“Yes… but that isn’t the only way a person can lose a quirk, is it?”

“The Scourge of Kamino was already in Tartarus when the Shie Hassaikai raid took place,” said Mirio. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Did Midoriya Izuku come into contact with you before the end of the day?”

“We talked, yeah,” said Mirio.

“Physical contact.”

“Actually… no,” said Mirio. “After the fight, we were both whisked off to the hospital, separately. Midoriya came to visit me after we both got patched up, he felt guilty about not getting to me and Eri sooner, and--” Oh, dear, he’d have to think back on that conversation a bit more. Later. He swallowed. “--and… Sir’s death…” He looked down at his hands. “Sir… in retrospect, he didn’t like Midoriya very much, but his death hit Midoriya hard. First death in the line of duty. It… it was the first time I’d seen a hero die, too.”

“You’re quite certain he didn’t touch you? At all?” asked Ito, undeterred by Mirio’s not-at-all-feigned grief.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” said Mirio, now annoyed by the investigator’s callousness.

“I see.”

Ochako rubbed her eyes, but the darkness stayed. “What,” she said out loud, her voice somehow doing the opposite of echoing, “what happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Todoroki. He had positioned himself so as to guard her back.

“There was a bang,” said Iida, “and then…” He trailed off, clearly finding just as much difficulty in describing the event as Ochako did thinking about it.

“They were talking about All for One getting in,” said Ochako. “You don’t think…?”

“Maybe we timed out the quirk and we’re about to wake up,” said Iida, optimistically.

“Where’s Aizawa-sensei?” asked Todoroki.

“I don’t know,” said Ochako. “He was standing with us… I mean, I couldn’t see you guys at first, either.”

“I’m here,” said Aizawa.

Ochako turned to see their teacher methodically scanning their black surroundings, his eyes red. “Do you know what happened?” she asked. “Do you think this is just, I don’t know, a new transition? A memory?”

“I don’t know,” said Aizawa. He blinked, eyes returning to their normal colors.

“It isn’t,” said an unfamiliar voice. The figure of a young man with uncut white hair slowly faded out of the darkness. “Hello.” He raised a hand. “I’m One. Or, I guess, you can call me Kazuki. Sorry about the landscape. Most of our mental resources were just rerouted.”

“Does this have something to do with that vault thing Izuku mentioned?” asked Ochako.

“Yes, sadly,” said One. “My brother’s broken out. Which means you really shouldn’t be here. All our minds are about to become battlefields. I have some techniques that might help you get out, but--”

“Six told me there was something taken from Midoriya that we could get back, if the vault was open. Is that still a thing?”

One raised a fist to his lips, and pressed down. “You understand, don’t you, that to search for this is to go into my brother’s mind?”

“If it’s to help Midoriya,” said Todoroki, stepping forward, “we’ll do anything.”

“That is very admirable of you,” said One. “I do mean that, I really do, and I’ve seen your heroics and spirit through Izuku’s eyes. But I’m not sending children to fight my brother. Eraserhead, you’d be going alone.”

“I can work with that,” said Aizawa.

“But we won’t be in any real danger!” protested Ochako. “The worst that could happen to us is that we’ll run out of time and wake up. Right?”

“Don’t underestimate my brother. Judging from the fight at Kamino, he lost a lot of quirk control and strength after his first fight with Eight, or else he’d never have been captured. But that’s only if we take it at face value. I don’t doubt that he has five or six plans in place to escape Tartarus and steal every interesting quirk in there, thereby increasing his power exponentially, or even healing himself.”

Ochako blinked. How would anyone heal from… Wait. “Overhaul.”

One’s smile was a bitter thing. “I certainly wouldn’t have put the two of them in the same prison.”

The villain at Kamino, already strong enough to go toe to toe with All Might, with Overhaul's power? Ochako shuddered.

"What did he take from Midoriya?" asked Aizawa. "I'm going to need to know before I do this."

"You're sure you want to do this, then?"

"I haven't decided."

One sighed and pushed his hair back, out of his face. Ochako was struck, momentarily, by how the color of his eyes perfectly matched Izuku's.

"My brother took what he always takes," said One. "His quirk."

"But!" protested Ochako. "He has a quirk! He has..." she trailed off as another revelation hit her.

"He…" said Iida, next to her, "has several quirks."

"He has your quirk," said Todoroki with one-hundred-percent unwavering confidence.

"You had a quirk like All for One," said Aizawa. "But considering what we've seen… the quirk to pass on quirks?"

"That's why you call yourselves by numbers! Because that's the order you had the quirk in!" added Ochako.

"I prefer thinking of it as the ability to share quirks," said One, "but since everyone but Eight and Nine is dead, the distinction is academic."

Aizawa sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Okay, let me get this straight. You and... your brother both had meta quirks. He could… give and take quirks. You could just pass your own quirk on. He decided to become a criminal mastermind. You decided to, I don't know, invest your quirk until someone had enough quirks to fight your brother?"

"And they're all related," said Todoroki.

"And you're all related," said Aizawa with an air of suffering.

"It was significantly less intentional and more complicated than that, but, yes, those are the basics."

"And, for some reason, All Might thought that it was a good idea to pick a teenager for the job."

"In his defense, Eight thought my brother was dead. The one you should really be throwing shade at is Seven."

"I have questions."

One tilted his head. "Normally, I would answer them, but we're running out of time."

Aizawa sighed. "Alright. I'll do it."

"We want to help, too!" said Ochako.

"Three will find a way to ghost murder me if I get you involved in a fight with my brother."

"So would I, incidentally," said Aizawa, "and then I'd expel all of them."

Iida cleared his throat. "Is there any way for us to help without coming into contact with All for One?”

“Yes,” said One, clapping his hands together. “Getting out before that Suzuki fellow does and giving Izuku some good publicity.”

One’s image seemed to waver and split, then, as if Ochako had crossed her eyes. She blinked, hard, but after that there were still two of them.

“I’ll lead you to my brother’s mind,” said one of the Ones, waving at Aizawa.

“I’ll stay and try to help the rest of you get out,” said the second One. “We should - Oh.”

“Oh?” repeated Aizawa. “‘Oh,’ what?”

“Oh, we forgot about someone,” said One.

“Oh,” said All for One, catching sight of an anomaly. “Who is this little intruder to our gathering?”

“Just some government lackey,” said Miranda, hands still for now, but in a position where she could likely summon ball lightning in a matter of minutes. “Not someone you can use as a hostage.”

“Actually,” said Ryuji, who, unusually, had yet to disappear from All for One’s senses, “if you could figure out a way to get rid of him, it would be convenient.”

“Two!” snapped Nana.

“Come on, we were all thinking it,” said Ryuji.

“You can’t use a him as a murder weapon,” hissed Nana. “Nine will get in trouble.”

“You’rethe one who repeatedly dropped him from a dozen stories up. And the one who was fantasizing about murdering him in real life.”

“That daydream could have belonged to anyone.”

“It had Gran Torino in it.”

“Eight knows Gran, too!”

All for One coughed, returning the full attention of the vestiges to himself. “Is this a pathetic attempt at a distraction?”

“Do you know any other adjectives?” asked his little brother, who was slouching off to the side with his hands in his pockets.

All for One sneered. “Are you not taking this seriously?”

“Not really, no,” said Kazuki, “and neither are you, or else we’d be fighting already. We both know that what you can affect here is limited.” He started counting off on his fingers. “You can’t bring us back with you, you can’t affect Nine’s morality, you can’t take the stockpile, you--”

“I knew it!” shrieked the little intruder, jabbing a finger at All for One. “I knew it! You’re All for One! Midoriya is working for you!”

“Hey, if you’re going to do the sibling thing and prove me wrong about the whole ‘can’t do anything’ thing, can I suggest you start with him?”

All for One narrowed his eyes and scanned his relatives. There was an uncharacteristic lack of protest.

“Are you briar patching?”

“No,” said Hibiki, “they’re quite serious. I personally would prefer it if you didn’t kill him, but not enough to risk myself.”

He could always trust Hibiki to be blunt and straightforward. He got it from his wonderfully forthright and businesslike mother. He hadn’t loved her like he loved his current, still-living spouse, but she had been refreshing.

“Mood,” said Rokuya.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” said dear, sweet Izuku, raising a hand, “but I’m not actually comfortable letting All for One kill him in front of us.”

“Don’t try that now! You’ve shown your true colors, traitor!”

“Don’t worry, kid,” said Daigoro, “we’re pretty sure he won’t be able to.”

“Torture, then.”

“Not sure he can do worse than Nana did.”

“All I did was drop him!” protested Nana.

“Repeatedly, from a great height,” Miranda reminded her.

Everyone was much more relaxed, now, and… were they ignoring him? They were!

“Are you all under the effect of a quirk?”

“Yeah,” said Kazuki. “How else do you think this is happening?”

“No, I mean… your personalities… they’re all…” He gestured at the One for All users who had stopped to watch him.

“Niichan, I’ve tried to tell you this before, but at least for me, I’m not all that great a person. You just suck so enormously that I look like a saint in comparison.”

“That’s not true!”

“It is,” said Kazuki. “I mean, think back to our first argument. I was less concerned with your overall morality and more concerned with the fact that the demon king alway loses--”

“Excuse you, but I’ve beaten every one of you.”

“No you haven’t,” said Hibiki. “I, at least, died with no input from you.”

“Killing you is obviously different from beating you,” said All for One.

“I mean, by the time you chucked me in that vault, it had evolved to a moral and ethical complaint,” said Kazuki, his one visible eye unfocused in remembrance. “But it started out with me worried about you getting yourself killed.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It really did. You know, I don’t think I ever told you this, but if you’d been twenty percent more ethical? I would have absolutely been on your side.”

“What.”

“I mean, it was you, the government, and ragtag resistance groups, and the government sucked.”

“I can confirm that,” said Miranda, “and it continues to be disgustingly corrupt. But since you’re also swimming through the human experimentation cesspit, we’re staying where we are. Don’t get any ideas.” She ended the sentence with a hiss and fog started rolling in.

“I agree that if you stayed away from the kidnapping, murder, and cult stuff, I would have probably stayed with you,” said Ryuji. “Except you did do all that stuff… Why are we even talking about this?”

“I would add personal freedom to the list of things I’d want from you in the hypothetical world where we stayed on the same side,” said Hibiki, “but, otherwise, I agree.”

All for One blinked several times, a small part of his mind cherishing the fact that he had eyes. “Do you all feel that way?” he asked, oddly touched but also strangely disturbed.

“No,” said Daigoro, “the rest of us hate you and the government just about equally.”

All for One turned his gaze to the quivering ‘government lackey.’ “I see. So, I suppose I have the government to thank for this turn of events. Hm? What did you do to have these soft-hearted fools so upset with you?”

The little man squeaked and jabbed something like an epi-pen into his leg. A second later, he vanished.

“Wait,” said Izuku. “Wait. THAT’S how to get out? That’s so stupid! Can we do that?” The last was said as an aside to Nana.

“Not with him here,” said Miranda. Her voice had dropped back into its more dangerous registers.

“Oh, so we are going to fight after all,” said All for One, clapping his hands and smiling. “What fun.”

“I can’t believe you distracted him and got Suzuki to leave like that,” said Aizawa as they stepped out of the fog.

“Well, my brother always did like to hear the sound of his own voice. And be a jerk, but I’m sure that was obvious,” said One. They came to a stop in front of a normal-looking apartment building. One sighed. “This is where we lived,” he said. “Before…” He sighed again.

Aizawa examined One out of the corner of his eyes. He looked tired.

“How much of what you said back there was true?”

“Huh? Most of it, really. My successors built me up as some kind of big good, but I was never anything but a normal guy with a slightly more functional moral compass than my brother.”

From what Aizawa had seen so far, he suspected One was seriously underselling himself.

“I’m sorry,” said One, “but I’m going to have to leave you here. Nine’s quirk should look like a younger version of himself. He couldn’t have been any older than five when it was taken.”

“Anything else I should know about?”

“Sorry, not really… I’ve not exactly been inside my brother’s head. If you manage to find a switch labeled ‘empathy,’ you might take a second to flip it on. Or not. Could be booby trapped. Wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Great,” said Aizawa.

“Midoriya-san,” said Mr. Compress. “We’ve been searching for quite some time now, I hate to say it, but I rather suspect that your son has thoroughly escaped.”

“Escaped,” repeated Midoriya. “Like a prisoner.”

Mr. Compress coughed into his fist. Tomura glared at him through a fog of exhaustion. He was wearing a mask. Why bother with the fist at all? Sometimes, Tomura felt like the only sane person on a planet of aliens.

“Honestly, we didn’t even know he was in the area, Midoriya-san. But… Perhaps at this point, the best course of action would be to return to our, uh… temporary base so that you can get some clothes. I’m sure Dabi will have something that can fit you.”

“Or maybe,” said Toga, hesitantly, “Magne might have had something?”

“Excellent idea, Himiko! Yes, I’m sure Magne’s clothes will be much more appropriate.”

“I don’t know that dressing her in a dead woman’s clothes is a good idea?” whispered Twice.

“Normally,” said Midoriya Inko, “I would say that the fires of my anger at Hisashi provide me with enough warmth to scorch the ground I walk on but—” she shivered, “—unfortunately you may be right. I’m not a young woman anymore, and Izuku would want me to be safe and healthy. So that I can give Hisashi a… firm talking to.”

Tomura shuddered. The ice in her tone was more frigid than the toilet seat in their stupid unheated bathroom at night.

… He hoped Sensei didn’t get a mind reading quirk in the near future. He definitely didn’t want him to know about that metaphor.

“Machia, will you be a dear and take us back? And Mr. Compress, would you put Dr. Garaki back in one of your marbles? I suspect he’ll be… more comfortable that way.”

At least Tomura wasn’t the doctor.

Machia leaned down and let them all get on, though not before fixing Tomura with a glare and delivering some glitchy threat about the ‘Little Lord’ and ‘playing nice.’ Completely redundant, what with Midoriya Inko’s much more pertinent and detailed threat regarding the same thing.

“Hey,” said Twice. “Do you guys smell--? It’s like a barbecue!”

Himiko sniffed the air. “It does smell kinda smokey, guys. Do you think Dabi got in a fight, too?”

“With who?” asked Tomura.

“Well, Izu-chan has to still be around here somewhere, right?” asked Himiko, putting a finger to her lips.

Machia sped up.

“It’s probably just the wind blowing someone’s bonfire smoke this way,” said Spinner.

Machia slowed down again.

Tomura frowned. “There shouldn’t be anyone close enough for that,” he said. If Dabi had set the forest on fire and given away their position, he was going to murder him.

Machia sped up again.

They came into sight of their current base and the source of the smoke.

These happened to be the same thing.

“I’m going to kill Dabi,” said Tomura.

“Are we sure it was him?” asked Twice.

“I don’t care.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fic #fanfic #long night in the valley

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years ago

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driver’s license | b. boeser

a/n: so i was listening to driver’s license on repeat and this happened out of the blue in the last 2 hours. @brockadoodles, hope you like this surprise!

word count: 2,027

wine pairing recommendation: an old favorite, something you love and trust.

warnings: a couple swear words.

You let out a long breath that lingered in the winter air inhabiting your car and cranked it slowly. The engine turned over a couple of times and you cursed a little under your breath. Your brother was supposed to have driven it while you were away, but he always said he forgot which was just his way of saying he hated your car. But she was Old Faithful for a reason and the engine turned on anyway. You breathed out a sigh of relief that turned into a groan as a familiar sound floated through your car of a voice you knew all too well saying your name softly. You slammed the button on the sound system to switch to the radio as your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t need to hear that today. You weren’t sure you ever needed to hear that CD again.

You didn’t even consider ejecting it from its permanent home in the otherwise unused CD slot. It lived there in your car that felt like a relic from a past life, a life in which the voice on that CD had a starring role in. That life wasn’t yours anymore, but we all keep tokens from the past, even from our lowest of years, because we can’t bear to part with things that once were our most prized possessions.

You really should have paid attention to the radio station you had last played, but you didn’t and you paid the price for that decision.

“Brock Boeser and the Vancouver Canucks were in town tonight and absolutely destroyed the Wild in a 3-0 shutout, with two goals from local Minnesotan Boeser. Remember his draft year? The Wild passed on him and I don’t think he’s ever forgotten it. He really feels like the one that got away for Minnesota, doesn’t he?”

You switched radio stations, but the damage was already done and tears were clouding your vision. His name, just his name, was enough to do it sitting in this godforsaken car, the car he’d named, the car whose flat tires he’d changed at least five times, the car he’d jumped into the second after you’d gotten your license, the car you had driven aimlessly around his neighborhood once he left. But they had to say the one that got away, didn’t they? The radio show hosts had to be in cahoots with The Universe, who really wanted to pull the old scars over your heart apart with careless word choices and reminders of days that were so infinitely happier than the ones you were living now.

Some dull pop song was flowing through your speakers now and you tried to focus on the entirely mediocre lyrics that matched the dull beat to center yourself in the mediocrity of it all. The opposite of your pain wasn’t happiness; it was the absolute middle between the two, the void where emotions didn’t inhabit. The problem was Brock Boeser hung over every inch of this car, every inch of this town, every inch of who you used to be. That emotionless void was entirely inaccessible to you in this moment. All you had was the ache in your chest with the terrible option to bury it under artificial joy. The pain you felt when you thought about him bled through your forced smile. It was too real, too raw still years later, the wound still somehow made fresh again by being back here to be covered.

All you had was your pain, shitty pop music, and a passenger seat that somehow still belonged to Brock and it fucking sucked.

You put the car in drive and turned right out of your driveway even though all your problems came with you anyway. The chill of the Minnesota winter was slowly dissipating as you drove mindlessly. Except no one ever really drove mindlessly. You made a series of lefts and rights without thinking, which meant your mind was really driving a path it knew so well you didn’t need to think about it as you did it. Minds, even when people thought they were being thoughtless, really weren’t all that random at all. You found yourself in Brock’s old neighborhood and you let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob that shook your aching chest. Of course your mind would bring you here when he was the only thing on it.

The first time you drove through these suburban streets on your own was so long ago now, but you took the same path you were taking now. This was the first place you’d gone after getting your license, freshy and shiny and new, burning a hole in your wallet and the only place you’d wanted to go was to Brock’s. It hadn’t surprised your mother when you’d pulled up at your house fresh off your driver’s test and hadn’t even reached for the keys. She knew with one look where you wanted to go, and she waved you off as she got out. You’d had the biggest smile on your face as you drove these streets for the first time alone, heading straight for the person who had been the most excited for you to get your license. You had barely remembered to put the car in park before running to hug him and kiss him as words of pride spilled from his lips. He climbed into your passenger seat, where he practically lived that whole summer, where he told you he wanted to be with you forever, forever be in your passenger seat watching you achieve your dreams.

Forever for Brock Boeser didn’t last past October of that year when he was in North Dakota and you were still here, driving the same goddamn streets you were driving now, driving through memories of your time together in your mind as you rolled through familiar intersections from your past. Years had gone by, and still a piece of Brock lived in a part of your heart like his voice lived on the mixtape still living in the CD slot of your car. You could go weeks, months even, without knowing he was there, especially when you weren’t in town, but something would always remind you of him. You’d see his face in a crowd, hear his name on the radio, drive past a road with the same name as one in his familiar neighborhood and you’d be reminded of him and the love for him that was embedded in your heart. That piece of him was so deep in your heart it couldn’t be surgically removed. There weren’t enough dates to go on, alcohol bottles to find the bottom of, enough love to try to create with other people, that would expel that piece of him you still carried in your heart. You hadn’t found anything that had even come close to him and the love you had for him. So your love for him stayed exactly where he’d left it in your heart and on a poorly burned CD in your car.

Your friends had to hate you for him now, how you always compared everyone to him. They didn’t understand why you did and honestly, neither did you. You and Brock were young and reckless and stupid, but the love you shared was real and raw and clumsy and fucking beautiful. You knew what a sunset made of blood reds, vibrant oranges, sharp yellows and deep purples looked like; one that was just shades of yellow wouldn’t do. You couldn’t forget what loving him felt like, but as far as you could tell, he had forgotten what loving you was like. Maybe he just never felt about you like you’d felt out him, otherwise, how could he have moved on like he had? He had this whole life, this whole other world, in Vancouver you’d only heard about in poorly remembered stories from people with several degrees of separation between them and him. He sounded like he was doing fucking swell without you and all you could think was that forever apparently left you driving through his streets alone with only memories of him and red lights to keep you company.

You hesitated before doing it because you knew what it would do, but you were already starting to cry again. All you wanted was to hear his voice again, hear the way it used to sound like when he talked about you sitting in this car, driving through these streets. You switched back to the CD and pressed play.

“Hey baby, I hope this works? I don’t really know what I’m doing, but you got your license and I’m so proud of you. I can’t always be bugging you in your passenger seat, being the best DJ ever, so I figured I’d make you a little CD so you can have my amazing DJ talents with you wherever and whenever you go. I love you!”

The tears were flowing now. Hearing the way he told you he loved you, the way the words were somehow heard directly in your heart and made it twist in your chest, made you remember why it hadn’t worked out with anyone else. The way Brock told you he loved you was better than how anyone else had ever tried. You walked down sidewalks holding other people’s hands and remembered the way his hand used to feel in yours when you walked down the same sidewalks in this neighborhood you were in now, past the same front yards you were passing now. The way he loved you clouded every moment you had ever tried to deny that he wasn’t your one great love. He was the person you had envisioned your future with, a future that included buying the blue house at the end of the street you were on now and pulling into that very driveway every night, sliding into bed with him, living with him, loving him forever.

Instead of that ideal forever, you were turning onto his street alone in the waning sunlight with tear-stained cheeks, remembering how much simpler and better everything was with him. The street was practically empty but as you got close to the house you knew as well as your own, your breath hitched in your throat with worry that someone would be there. Of all the empty houses, someone being in the driveway at Brock’s would be your luck. You came over the hill and exhaled upon seeing the driveway empty, before checking your rearview mirror and letting your car slow to a crawl. You could practically see him there, all the times he’d run out that front door and into the passenger seat, off to the lake, to your favorite dinner, to the fourth best but still your favorite park around, to even just driving around these same neighborhood streets when he needed to breathe and forget the weight he carried in that house.

You slowed to almost a stop in front of his house, letting your car roll forward as you tried to will the memories to sit more comfortably on your mind and in your chest to no avail. You didn’t notice someone appear in the driveway until it was too late, until they had already seen you. Blonde hair peaked out the back of a blue hat that sat backwards on his head. An old beat up North Dakota sweatshirt covered his broad chest, broader now that it had been when he had been yours, gray sweatpants, and sneakers he had thrown on to do some mundane task, probably to get the mail for his dad. There he was, standing in the driveway, looking at you and for a second, you thought he was thinking the same things you were, longing for them in the same way you were.

He mouthed your name, disbelief written on his face, and started walking toward your car. You shifted it into park, because after all this time, all the pain, all the broken promises of forever, he was still Brock Boeser and you couldn’t leave him hanging when he called your name.

#brock boeser #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser fic #brock boeser fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey writing #hockey imagine

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fymoonbyul · 4 years ago

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[INTERVIEW] Moonbyul ㅡ ELLE Korea Star (May) Interview

Moonbyul do whatever you want! Behind the Girl Crush icon, Moonbyul.

ELLE KOREA: With the hashtag #byul2closet, you consistently post your daily look on Instagram. MOONBYUL: I've recently started showing that I've gotten in an interest in styling. In the past, if I preferred dandy vibes, now, I'm looking for new things that suit me. Accessories, bold prints and colors, and even brands that I didn't know about before. Listening and seeing a lot of things made me want to try wearing new clothes more.

ELLE KOREA: You're a 'hobby rich', right? It seemed like you purchased an electric bicycle not too long ago. MOONBYUL: I am. I take pictures, learn how to edit videos, and have been working hard doing upper body exercises that I started because I didn't like appearing small. The charms of an electric bicycle is that it looks like a motorcycle. Solar unnie got her driver's license earlier than me, but I'm also the first member of MAMAMOO to buy a car. Though, when I ask the members to ride bikes together, they tell me we should just stay still. (laughs).

ELLE KOREA: A few years ago, I happened to run into MAMAMOO fans at an arrival gate at the airport. The female ratio was high. MOONBYUL: The fandom is actually diverse, but I think female fans are more active. It's thrilling and touching that we're acknowledged by the same gender. Because we're the same gender, I feel like they understand me that much more, and my inner side.

ELLE KOREA: You ran through last year really busily. From activities with your second solo album, 'Dark Side of the Moon', to MAMAMOO's 10th mini album, 'Travel'. How is it looking back after catching your breath now? MOONBYUL: Surprisingly, I was able to meet with fans until early February last year, right until my solo activities. That's why I felt the difference in energy in a bigger way during activities. It was MAMAMOO's group comeback for the first time in a year, and we couldn't receive fans' energies. Still, with solos, I was able to show my color, and each member of MAMAMOO was able to show their individuality, so I'm proud even looking back now.

ELLE KOREA: You also had your first solo concert. You're the second MAMAMOO member, following Solar. MOONBYUL: It eventually had to be an online concert. I even dreamt of an overseas tour, so I was thankful. But, on the other hand, it was a shame. The decreased feeling of playing together on stage couldn't be helped either.

ELLE KOREA: Because MAMAMOO is a group that best suits the phrase that 'the stage is a playground'. I can feel confidence from your words about planning an overseas tour with your solo concert. MOONBYUL: I had passion and ambition (laughs). I think it was fun doing my own music at the time. I'm someone who moves, not because I'm good at something, but out of interest. Of course I felt the empty place of my members. Because I always moved as 4 with Solar unnie, Wheeinie and Hwasa.

ELLE KOREA: You're the rapper in your group, but you've been showing your vocal skills a lot lately. 8 years into your debut now, has the standard of how well you perform on stage changed? MOONBYUL: There was a time where I was busy showing bright and made up appearances. I thought I had to make an effort to do that better because people anticipated that side of me. Now, that's also important, but I think more about how I need to do what I like. After I had a couple of experiences of fulfilling what I only thought of in my head, I realized that you can work for a long time when you do what you want.

ELLE KOREA: What emotions and experiences do you reflect most when writing songs? MOONBYUL: At first, they were mainly experiences. I've written about love stories, too. But I slowly started running out of material. In a way, for me, work is greater than love. So, rather than dating during that time, I think I liked creating something of my own more. When reading poem collections lately, I'll look for things to talk about, and write stories that can happen anywhere. Since there are relatable elements in daily life like, 'I drank water when I woke up'.

ELLE KOREA: Are things going smoothly at Naver NOW's 'Studio Moon Night' that you're a host of? MOONBYUL: I started in February of this year. 'Studio Moon Night', it's going really well lately. Contact from guests have been pouring in (laughs).

ELLE KOREA: I can feel your affection for the show with how you made the logo song yourself. It ends with the lyrics, 'what kind of day you had, hug me'. MOONBYUL: My dream was to be a radio DJ. It's like my dream came true, so I thought it would be good to make a logo song. I'm not am amazing person, but I made it with the hopes that people can confide in me even more comfortably.

ELLE KOREA: I didn't know you dreamt of being a radio DJ. MOONBYUL: I didn't talk much about dreams I the past. I had a vague feeling of wanting to try it, and after turning 30, I couldn't let go of my thoughts about the future. It made me think about what else I can do aside from what I'm doing now.

ELLE KOREA: Meanwhile, you had the dream of wanting to become a singer since you were little. I heard you wouldn't take many pictures other than graduation photos. When did you gain that assurance and confidence? MOONBYUL: There are family photos left (laughs). In my 2nd year of middle school, I made up my mind to become a singer after being in a carol [singing] contest. Then, I naturally thought, `Ah, I shouldn't have past photos'. I think I must have been confident that I would become a singer. At that age, you have indefinite thoughts that you'll `become something before going to university'.

ELLE KOREA: You're close with a number of girl group members, featuring in songs or writing lyrics for each other. What do you usually talk about when you meet? MOONBYUL: There are times when I ask about concerns to seniors, but most are younger than me. Because we're in the same work, we share answers about concerns we experiences during similar times. We give each other advice, and we also introduce other acquaintances that we think could be of help.

ELLE KOREA: I also remember the advice you gave to rookie group 'Purple Kiss'. You said, "I would like if you worked while chasing happiness, and gain good people who cheer you on." MOONBYUL: I could see their concern. There wasn't anyone who said those things to me when I was that age. I didn't know what kind of work this was, but we were our company's first group as well, so there were a lot of things we had to do on our own. I think I told them what I wanted to hear at that time.

ELLE KOREA: In a YouTube video analyzing MAMAMOO's destiny, it said you have to 'strike while the iron is hot'. MOONBYUL: I saw that video, too! I usually like those kinds of things. You just have to remember the good parts. What's even more interesting is that I actually have that in the lyrics of my song, ’ILJIDO’.

ELLE KOREA: Currently being in your 8th year, what was the strength that helped Moonbyul come this far?

MOONBYUL: It's MAMAMOO. In the early days of our activities, the members relied on each other, but I think I'm slowly starting to rely on fans a lot. When I make music or do something, it's really reassuring knowing there are people who will have an interest and watch. (Is there a phrase that makes you feel the best, no matter when you hear it?) 'You're doing well'. Even if it's not for singing or dancing, but in daily life or when I attempt something new. When I hear that I'm doing well, even trivially, I realize the fact that I don't have to be trapped in my own frame once again.

trans by ch0ssh1

#mamamoo #moonbyul #t:interview #t:trans #era:travel #210504

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smolthealmighty · 4 years ago

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Spinaraki Week Level 2 Day 1: Chase

Give Myself To You

When Spinner had the idea to visit his hometown and show off his old hideaways to Tomura, he thought it would be romantic. He could turn these sad places where he went to cry into secluded havens where he could spend some quality alone time with the love of his life, and do something he's wanted to do since their third date. He was not expecting a neon orange pickup truck to interrupt the date by hurtling towards them at high speed.

In which Spinner's old bullies want to run him over with their truck, Tomura wants to beat the shit out of them for daring to try, and Spinner just wants to pop the question.

~~~~~

This was not how this date was supposed go. Spinner just wanted to show his boyfriend around his hometown, give him a tour of all the isolated spots he would hide away in before he eventually shut himself up inside the Iguchi house. It was gonna be a nice romantic getaway, where the places he associated with some of his worst memories could be re-contextualized as he turned them into secluded little havens where he could woo his boyfriend –and eventually propose to him– in peace.

There they were, sitting together at the edge of the forest that semi-surrounded the town, watching the sun start to set over the hilly meadow that lay below them. Tomura was fully relaxed for once, leaning heavily on his boyfriend as he reminisced about the utter disaster that was the one time they tried to go clubbing, while Spinner was mustering up his courage and fidgeting with the rings in his jacket’s pocket. Just as he turned to face Tomura and was about to start the speech he had been revising in his mind since –admittedly– their third date, he saw the unmistakable neon orange pickup truck that belonged to Spinner’s worst nightmares, Nōtarin, Iyaga, and Rase, speeding in the background. And the truck was gunning straight for them!

“Oh no.”

“Hm, what do you mean ‘oh no’?” asked Tomura, who also uttered an “oh no” once Spinner pointed towards the truck that was now only a hundred meters away. With reflexes that were still etched into his bones after years of dealing with the trio, Spinner clutched his boyfriend close and launched the both of them down the hill in a barrel roll, barely missing the thick tires of the truck as it blew past them.

“What the hell was that shit?” yelled Tomura, as Spinner shot up, grabbed his hand, and lead them towards one of the few trees that dotted the meadow.

“Those are the assholes I told you about, the ones who always went after me. One of them must’ve seen me and recognized me, and now they’re picking back up from where we last left off!”

“You last left off with them trying to turn you into roadkill?!”

As they ducked into the hollow, a chorus of brash voices with heavy country accents boomed across the meadow.

“Shuichi, you purse designer’s wet dream! Why don’t you let us mount your lizard head to the wall like the hunting trophy you are!”

“Nōtarin, I saw someone with him, hey gecko geek, do you mind if we mount your friend too?”

“Damn Iyaga, keep it in your pants. Though to be fair, compared to talon-hands you’d probably be a better fit!”

At this point Tomura was already struggling against Spinner to march out of the hollow and wreak vengeance. “C’mon Spinner, I’ll mount their heads on our base’s wall!”

“Would you just gimme a sec to cool down a bit?!” Tomura relented and stopped squirming, letting Spinner hold him as he tried to stop trembling.

“Ugh, I swear, they always know how to get under my skin. And I really thought I’d be over them by now.”

Tomura turned to face Spinner and squeezed him back, taking his boyfriend’s scaly beak and pressing it into his scarred neck. “You’ll be alright. You’re just a little stuck, I’m right here if you need a push you know.”

Spinner sighed as he nuzzled the curve of Tomura’s shoulder. “I know I’m not the pinnacle of dating material but damn, people can have different tastes.”

Tomura snorted, “Oh please, as if those hillbilly bitches know anything about ‘good taste’. If your loyalty and empathy for empty husks like me aren’t enough to prove ‘em wrong, then you having the muscles to be able to wield a giant ‘fuck you’ sword should’ve done the job. The fact they can’t see any of that just shows that their IQ scores are all in the negatives.”

Looking up and seeing Tomura’s self-assured smile, the smile graced his face whenever he was so sure that he was right, knowing that he truly believed that his boyfriend was really all that, melted Spinner’s heart into a puddle of goo.

“Marry me.”

Maybe melted it a little too much.

“Huh?”

Realizing what just came out of his mouth, Spinner blushed violently and tried to start some damage control. “Uh shoot I mean um-”

“Hey Nōtarin, let’s ram into that tree! I think I hear them over there!”

Hearing that brought Spinner back to his senses, and he dragged Tomura out of the hollow, Nōtarin swerving just enough to only nick one of the headlights off the truck before resuming the chase.

“Son of a bitch, I had it all planned out and I messed it up!”

“Had what planned out?” asked Tomura, still in a whirl from what he was pretty sure he heard Spinner blurt just seconds ago.

“You know what, it’s fine, I’ll just do it on the fly. Follow me!”

They booked it across the meadow, Spinner weaving them around the hidden hills and valleys camouflaged beneath the waist-high grass. The truck kept slowly gaining on them, but the constant bangs and thumps of the truck bouncing against the uneven ground and the arguing between the driver and his passengers betrayed how little the tormentors knew about the terrain.

“Dammit, stay still you lizard-fuck!”

“Nah, let him keep running. Makes the chase more exciting!”

“Maybe if you’d gotten your driver’s license, you’d actually be able to hit him Nōtarin!”

“Fuck off Rase!”

Jumping over a particularly thick mud puddle, Spinner finally began the speech that had been previously interrupted.

“I’m sure you already know that I fell for you pretty fast-”

“Understatement of the year, but I’m not one to talk.”

The neon orange paint was splattered with mud, with the new coat of brown getting bigger as the wheels spun, sluggishly making its way through the puddle.

Spinner laughed breathlessly as he continued, “-yeah, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able put how much the love you gave me in return means to me into words. I couldn’t do it even if the ocean was made of ink and the earth was paper, it just wouldn’t be enough.”

“Shuichi…”

“And, well, since I can’t use words, I thought I’d show my devotion with some kind of gift, but I don’t really have much to give you except myself. Still, I’ll give that to you for the rest of my life if you want it.”

By this point they had stopped just a few feet in front of a moss-covered boulder, one that blended in with the green grass and was in the direct pathway of the truck that continued driving towards them at top speed.

Ignoring the oncoming truck, Spinner took Tomura’s other hand into his own, and softly asked, “Tomura, will you marry me?”

The truck hit the rock, skyrocketing up and over the couple. The screams of the driver and his passengers fell on deaf ears as Tomura gazed into bright, cherry-petal eyes and answered the proposal:

“You’re more than enough for me, you’re more than I could ever dream of asking for. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Not even a moment after he accepted, a loud crash echoed across the meadow as the truck collided with the ground, flipping over as it did so. The bullies were quick to exit the wreck and make their way towards the still lovestruck duo to attack them. It was a farce from the start, the newly established fiancés barely paying them any attention as they began to brawl.

“Look at you all smiley and shit,” said Tomura as he kicked Rase across the field.

“Why wouldn’t I be all smiles? I’m gonna get to marry to the love of my life! You should see your face right now, looks like your smile’s gonna split your face in two with how big it is!” exclaimed Spinner, dodging Nōtarin’s sluggish punches with ease.

“Touché, fiancé. I bet you’ve already got a plan for everything that comes next, you gooey romantic.”

“Well, I was thinking we could have a small ceremony, just us and the league. Nothing too fancy, we’d just do the vows, ring exchange, ‘I do’s’, and sealing it with a kiss, all within fifteen minutes tops. That way we can splurge on the reception, the best music-” Nōtarin screamed as his arm was sliced by Spinner’s hunting knife.

“-the most delicious food and drinks-” Nōtarin gurgled as the knife ran through his neck.

“-and a cake so big that’ll make everyone sick. We’d just have to grab someone to officiate the thing and make it official.”

“We can get Giran to do it, he’s got just enough connections that he could make it happen.” Iyaga howled as his chest caved in.

“And for the honeymoon, I was thinking about taking a joyride on the coastline. We could stock up the van and make stops at all the beaches, and maybe get rid of a few heroes along the way if we’re up for it.”

“That sounds good to me, I’m certainly looking forward to having some fun alone time to ourselves!” Tomura cried happily, as Rase joined Iyaga in the pile of dust that lay at his feet.

By the time they came down from the high of the fight, the sun was dipping below the tree line, Tomura and Spinner sprawled out next to each other on the bloodstained earth.

“Ah shit,” said Tomura, “I just realized that there goes my future date idea of murdering your hometown bullies.”

Spinner chuckled at his fiancé’s annoyed tone, “That’s okay, we only murdered a couple of them. Next time we can take down the town leaders who encouraged everything, make a day out of it.”

“Hmm, alright, but I’m planning it. It’s only fair.”

Satisfied, Spinner let out a sigh before suddenly sitting up. “Oh right, I gotcha these,” he said as he pulled the rings out of his pocket.

“It’s just a pair of those plastic rings from the arcade we went to a while back, but I figure we’re not gonna wear these for too long because they’re just engagement rings. We can rob a jewelry store together to pick out the wedding rings.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Tomura, as they each took turns slipping the rings onto each other’s fingers. Taking a second to let the presence of a ring on his finger sink in, Tomura smiled and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful that Re-Destro only snapped off my first three fingers.”

“Well, that’s one way to say you’re happy to be engaged,” Spinner joked.

“Hm. Then I’ll say it more romantically, just for you.” This time, it was Tomura who took Spinner’s hands into his own as he spoke his piece:

“Shuichi, you are one thing in this world that I could never hate, and the only person I will ever promise myself to. I’ll do whatever it takes to give you the life you want to live. I love you, and I’ll continue to love you until the stars grow cold, and even after that.”

If that speech hadn’t already swept Spinner off his feet, then the deep kiss Tomura initiated sent his heart skyward with how much it fluttered. When they both came down to earth, they went about flipping the thoroughly beat-up truck right side up, and as the last rays of sunlight disappeared beneath the horizon, the newly engaged couple drove off into the ink and lavender sky.

#SpinarakiWeekLevel2 #SpinarakiWeek2021 #spinaraki #shigaraki tomura #spinner #shuichi iguchi #smol’s stuff #smol's stories

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 5 years ago

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pefectly lonely (2/3)

Summary: She always wondered if breaking up with John had been the right thing to do. He had been her first in so many aspects. But there was something John wasn’t telling her. So she took the job in LA and left for good. Now, 6 years later, helping out at her Uncle’s gas station in between jobs, she was back in the town where she knew he lived. She knew she would most likely run into him at some point. She didn’t think it would be during a robbery though…

Pairing: John Wick / F!Reader

wordcount: 1.977

Warnings: none

A/N: I know I said 4 chapters, but it will be only three. But I already have 2 new thingys planned ;)

Masterlist:

Taglist:

@meetmeinthematinee / @hisdeadwife / @fanficsrusz / @mrrightismrreeves / @ladyreapermc / @theolsdalova / @greenmanalishi / @itsmydreamlifethings / @raven-black102 / @keanureeefs / @a-really-bi-girl / @thesadvampire / @ficsnroses / @palaiasaurus64/ @celestial-vomit / @ravenpuff02

The constant ringing of the doorbell was what let John sleepily get out of his bed. It was dark outside. He didn't know how long he had slept. After he got back home he had put his clothes in the living room to deal with later and just went to get a shower and go to bed. Yawning he checked the security camera, surprised at seeing her face.

“John. I know you're home. I heard your dog bark. Since when do you have a dog?” She called, making John chuckle before he opened the door.

“I thought you would come by tomorrow?” He asked stepping to the side so she could walk in. She was carrying a bag with her, setting it down on the ground as she spotted Dog.

“Didn't take you for a dog person, John.” She smiled before she patted Dog on his head.

“I wasn't planing on getting a dog...” John explained as he closed the door.

“You moved since...” She said, looking up at him.

“Yeah. Couldn't live there without you.” He sighed as he watched Dog with his back on the ground, paws in the air, seemingly already in love with her. She had that talent. Making people fall in love with her.

“I like it. It's so... modern.” She searched for the right word. John laughed.

“I barely stay here. The only thing that's really finished is the kitchen.”

“Well thank god. How would I make you my famous Garlic Spaghetti then?”

She didn't know what made her ask her Uncle where John was living now. And she didn't know why she decided on wanting to cook for him. She wanted to thank him. Maybe it was the glass of wine she had before her Uncle brought her over, making her promise to call him to pick her up, maybe she just wanted to see him. Yes she did try to date since she left him. But nothing was ever more than just a one night stand. She just loved John too much. Still, after all those years.

And when he showed up today, taking that robber down... Things like that didn't just happen. Not in the world she was living in.

Walking through the long hallway to where she supposed the kitchen was, she looked at the blank walls.

“You really aren't here very often, aren't you?” She asked over her shoulder.

“I'm busy with my.. work.” He answered.

“Ah yes. How is the book binding going?” She asked rolling her eyes as she set the bag down on the kitchen counter. This was her dream kitchen. Elegant white cabinets. Clean lines. Marble counter top. She once told John about her dream kitchen. Back when they were making plans for their future... And he had gotten every single detail just like she told him all those years ago. Breathing in deep she closed her eyes.

She heard John sigh behind her. Turning around she saw him running his hand through his messy hair. He was wearing his Pajama pants, hanging very low on his hips and a white shirt, looking dead on his feet.

“I woke you up, didn't I?” She asked. He nodded.

“Didn't get much sleep the last days.”

“God... I can go. And come back tomorrow? I'd still cook if you want to...”

“No. Stay. You were right. We need to talk. And I intend to be honest with you.”

“Really?” She raised her eyebrow at him.

He deserved that. She had been asking him often to finally talk to her back when they were together.

“Yeah. But we should sit down for that.” John said, looking at her. She held his gaze, letting herself get lost in his eyes for a tiny moment before she nodded.

“I'm sorry about the mess. I have to take these to the dry cleaners tomorrow.” John excused himself as he began to gather the various suits that were laying over the back of his couch.

“Don't be. You didn't know I would surprise you.” She shrugged, helping him with the various suits.

“These are really great.” She said, feeling the fabric of the pants.

“Yeah. I have a new Tailor.” He murmured, gathering the suits.

He didn't see her frowning as she took one of his dress jackets, that was looking a little more familiar to her, then it should have. Running her thump over the label, she closed her eyes and sighed.

Shaking her head to herself, she sighed. Of course. Of course it made sense to her now. The business trips. How he got back from his trips and was injured.

“Everything okay?” She heard John ask.

“I've been so stupid.” She whispered.

“What?” John frowned.

“It all makes sense now...” She turned around looking up at John.

“CMXXX. You're number 930. You prefer black. Reinforced shoulders and chest with the newest and most expensive bullet proof material. I only finished the gray dress jacket that New York ordered for you before I left to visit my uncle.”

John swallowed, sitting down on the couch behind him.

“I can't even count the times I had to fix your suits.” She held the fabric close to her chest, as she looked down at him.

“You're the dressmaker they all talk about. The one who invented the thinnest bulletproof fabric there is.” John breathed.

“And you're the Boogeyman.” She sat down on the couch table in front of John.

“Why didn't you tell me back then?” She asked after a while.

“How do you tell someone you love that you are killing people for a living?” John shot back.

“I loved you John. I would have understood... Some how...” She shook her head in disbelief.

“You were so young. So innocent. I couldn't.. I wouldn't...” John looked to the ceiling, searching for the right words.

“I couldn't bear to lose you.”

“But you did. In the end. Because you couldn't trust me.” She said quietly, fighting against the tears. She had shed so many tears because of him. Even if she could understand him on some level. It still did hurt.

“I know.” John whispered.

“How did you get into this business?” John asked after a while. Getting up from the couch table she sat down next to John on the couch.

“I didn't know what exactly the job was when I left here. I only knew they were looking for a designer. You can probably imagine my surprise when I found out what exactly I was getting into.”

“Why didn't you leave?” He asked. Turning her head towards him, she sighed.

“At first it was the money. But... I love my team. We have close to nothing to do with the high table. I'm the head Seamstress but Colin, who I work all day with became a close friend over the years.”

“Colin, hm?” John couldn't help but ask.

“Yeah. I don't know how I would have survived the last years without him.”

“I'm glad you're happy.” John smiled and got up from the couch.

Looking after him as he left the room she sighed. John was the man people whispered about. She only knew her customers by numbers. She never wanted to know names. That would have made it more real for her. She loved her work. But sometimes she still struggled with the fact that she was tailoring suits and dresses for people who killed for a living.

Getting up from the couch herself she followed John. The front door was open and she could see John sitting on the porch.

“How did you get into this world?” She asked him as she sat down next to him. She took the cigarette out of his hands, bringing it to her lips as she inhaled the smoke. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“What?” She laughed.

“Nothing. Never though I would see the day you would smoke a cigarette.” He chuckled.

“A lot changed since I left, John.” She bumped her shoulder against his, making him wince.

“Uh... Sorry.” She said, her hand softly coming to rest on his biceps.

“No need. Just a little sore.” John shrugged, before he began to tell her everything about how he grew up in the roma ruska. How he got stuck working for the Russians. He answered every single question she had.

“God Jonathan. If I had known back then...”

“You wouldn't have been able to handle it.” John interrupted her.

“You're probably right. But I wouldn't have asked myself for the last years if I did something wrong for you to not tell me the truth.” She put her hand on his knee, making him look at her.

“I'm sorry.” He said, his hand coming to rest on top of hers.

“Me too. I'm sorry for just leaving you. But I didn't know what else to do... I loved you so much. But it was time I started to love me more.”

“You always were too hard on yourself.” John looked at her.

“I know. But not anymore.” She winked at him.

They continued to sit next to each other in silence. Watching up to the stars.

“So how do you feel about dinner?” She asked after a while, making John smile.

“I missed your Garlic Spaghetti. Never quiet could re cook it.”

“You cook?” She asked surprised.

“There are many things I have learned after we broke up.”

“Likewise.” She winked at him.

“Oh really?” John asked, a smile in the corner of his lips.

“I bought a motorcycle and have a drivers license.” She grinned, making John look at her with big eyes.

“I'm so proud of you.” He said, his arm coming around her back to pull her close to him. She closed her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder. Inhaling his familiar scent.

“Come on. Let's get something to eat.” She said, needing to bring some distance between them.

It was close to midnight when they were sitting at his kitchen island, drinking their second glass of wine. Her uncle would pick her up soon.

“Do you think about us sometimes?” She asked John.

“More than I would like to admit.” He said right away.

“I missed you so much in the beginning. I actually was close to going back home for months when I got to LA.” She confessed.

“Why didn't you?” John asked.

“At first I was scared you would reject me for leaving you like that. But after a while I felt like I needed this for myself.”

“Are you happy? In LA? With Colin?” John asked.

“With Colin?” She huffed, raising her eyebrow at him.

“Well it sounds like you are happy with him...”

She laughed at that.

“Colin is like my little Brother John. Just the thought of... Ew.” She shuddered, making John chuckle.

“Do you still think about us?” John asked her. The doorbell rang, signaling her Uncle was there to pick her up.

Swallowing she nodded at John, before she got up.

“I never stopped loving you, John.” She whispered against his ear, as she stopped next to him. Leaning down to kiss the corner of his lips she sighed, before she leaned her forehead against his.

“Visit me when you're in LA sometimes.” She whispered, before she softly kissed his lips and walked out of his kitchen, out of his house, out of his life. Again.

#fanfiction #fanfic #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves

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soldierswar · 5 years ago

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Ghosts in the Wind

Dad!Bucky X Reader Fluff/Angst

TW: Mild suicidal ideation/death.

Plot: You and Bucky have the perfect life. A beautiful home, a beautiful daughter. There is no fathomable way that you could ever be happier, or more content with your life.

...But life isn’t always as it seems.

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

You walked through the doorway smelling the smell of fresh pasta and cheese being broiled in the oven. “Well that was quick,” said a voice from the kitchen that was none other than your husbands. “Uggh,” You groaned, throwing you bag on the floor. “One piece of paperwork. One. And I had to go all the way to mid-town for that bullshit.” “They couldn’t fax?” he replied, mildly amused by your past dilemma. “No. They needed like 3 different witnesses or something while I signed it. Do you know how weird it is signing something while 3 old men who are going through their mid-life crises attempt to stare at the paper, and not your ass? You think you’re nervous writing you signature for your driver’s license? Try that.” He gave you a sympathetic, lighthearted frown and walked over to embrace you with his long, strong arms, and kissed the top of your head resulting in an automatically smile that brought back all warmth to your cheeks like a little school-girl with a crush.

“Hey, where’s—” “Mommy!” yelled your three-year-old as she ran towards you and jumped into your arms. “There’s my little monkey!” “Did you miss me?” You asked, squeezing her cheeks which made her smile that inevitably morphed into a duck face. She nodded enthusiastically. “I missed you thiiiiiis much!” she exclaimed, raising her little arms and spreading them as far apart as she could possibly reach. The little liar. You were barely gone an hour, and she loved daddy time. “Yeah, of course you did,” You said before planting a million little kisses onto her red cheeks as she giggled and squealed.

She was the biggest daddy’s girl. She always climbed on him, cuddled him while you both watched tv with her, and ran straight to him when she fell and hurt herself. One would think you could be jealous of that, but you really weren’t. You had your own special bond with her since the moment you found out she existed; and there was nothing that could take that away from you. Especially not Bucky. You both loved that little girl to death.

And watching Bucky be such a doting father did nothing but warm your heart beyond measure. Everybody said that she was the spitting image of you, the exact same way that you were your mother’s doppelgänger. And to an extent, they were correct. But she had a perfect mixture of your green eyes, and her dad’s striking grey eyes. She was shy around new people, so when she nervously laid her head on either of your chests (depending on who was holding her) for comfort, they couldn’t see that she had the exact same smile as her dad; or even a lot of his mannerisms. When she even talked like him sometimes. She was just as much him, as she was you. “James...” “What?” “Have I finally gone crazy? Or can I smell cheese on the verge of burning?” “No—” You handed your daughter over to him, and she happily obliged as you walked over to open the oven. It wasn’t quite burnt. In fact, it was going to be pretty good, but it was on that line. As you pulled it out of the oven, you gave him the ‘I told you so,’ look. Your daughter laughed knowing that ‘daddy was almost in biiig trouble’ expression on your face all too well. “What would I do without you?” “Burn all of the pasta,” You chuckled while rolling your eyes. Once again, your little girl burst out into giggles. He put her down at the same time as you set the dish on the stove. “I love you smart-ass,” he chuckled. “I love you too, asshole,” you replied before he planted a soft kiss onto your lips. One would think that you would have gotten used to it; but every time he kissed you, it felt like the first time in a long time. Like it could be the last time. Nothing could spoil it, even when you could hear a high-pitched ‘ewwwwww’ in the background. But it was just further validation that she knew that her parents not only loved her, but loved each other very, very, very much as he would say. He looked deep into your eyes, which made your cheeks blush once again. Hell, that look was what got you pregnant. “I’m sorry,” he whispered seriously. “Oh relax, there was no actual damage,” you lightheartedly scoffed. “You know what I mean.” You gave him a confused frown. “I’m going to miss you,” he whispered sadly before wrapping his arms around you tightly, and rested his face atop your head, planting a soft kiss. “But I’m not going anywhere,” you said against his chest trying to comfort him, still absolutely confused as to what was happening. Suddenly, the little one frantically wrapped her arms around your legs as fervently as Bucky was. “Don’t go, mommy!” she cried. “What is going on?” “I love you,” he said one last time against your lips. … You jolted awake as though you had been pressed underwater for 5 minutes. As you frantically looked around the dark room and became more and more aware of your surroundings, it didn’t get much better. You still couldn’t breathe. Your chest felt so tight that it felt as though it were about to cave in and break all of your ribs. Your hands trembled. In fact, you felt the trembling traveling throughout your whole body like an infection. “Y/N?” A soft, sleepy voice asked next to you on the bed. You jumped, and turned to your best friend Wanda who was there. She wasn’t Bucky. She wasn’t Bucky. Where was Bucky? “Hey, hey, hey,” she whispered, lightly and cautiously resting her hands on my shoulders. Her soft, warm hands began to ground you to some extent. She wasn’t James. She was never going to be James. There was never going to be another James again. She sat there patiently, and brushed her thumbs against your shoulders. It eventually helped to stop the shaking, and breathe at steadier rate to some extent. It felt as though you were on the verge of passing out from the influx of oxygen that bombarded your lungs. Maybe you wanted to pass out. When the initial shock finally subsided, and you realized where you were, and who you were with a whole other wave of emotions came up. After what had happened…After Bucky had died a week ago, she stayed with you at all times to make sure that you wouldn’t hurt yourself, or do something equally as erratic. “Was it—” You immediately began to sob uncontrollably. You sobbed so hard that it felt like you were choking on your sobs. You didn’t move. She helped you lay back down and wrapped and arm around you holding you close from behind as the sobs continued to wrack your whole body. She whispered soft hushes, but probably knew that you were helpless at the moment. You had had many nightmares since the incident happened. Ones of pure terror. But if you had to be honest, this had to have been the worst one you could imagine. Imagining a happy life. The happy life with him that you had had with him a little over a week ago. A happy life with the child that didn’t exist in real life, but the one you both dreamed to have in the near future. A child that was exactly the way you imagined she would be like. It made you want to die. You wanted to go back. Oh God, why couldn’t you just go back? “She didn’t have a name,” you sobbed. “Who?” she whispered, holding your hand no matter how hard you gripped onto it. But it was all you could say. Your baby. The little girl who in your last moments of seeing the manifestation of that child moments ago who you didn’t even comfort within your last moments with her, even if she never really existed. If only you had known that you would be leaving her…The both of them in that dream. You would have held on tightly. You would have held on longer. You would have held on as long as you possibly could. She didn’t even have a name. And that was all you could say. It was the only thing you said. It was all you repeated for God knows how long. But your best friend in the whole world didn’t stop you. She didn’t question your senseless murmurs. She didn’t even ask you to stop crying. She just held on as much as she could, because he knew that it was all he could do. Maybe if you could leave this world…You could go back to that sweet, sweet dream and hold on to those two very people you wanted to see most. But she wouldn’t let you. So you were stuck here.

Locked out of heaven, silently screaming for those ghosts in the wind.

#Buckyxreader #buckybarnesxreader #Bucky barnes fanfic #Bucky X Reader #Bucky X Reader Angst #Bucky X Reader fluff #winter soldier fanfic #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier X Reader Angst #Winter Soldier X Reader Fluff #wanda maximoff #Fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #Dad!Bucky #Dad!Bucky X Reader

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1130

survey by nadine07

Where were you three hours ago? Was passed out on the living room couch and probably dreaming away, lmao.

Were you with anyone? Both my dogs were in the living room with me, if that counts.

Have you had anything alcoholic in the last 24 hours? Hmm, I’m trying to remember but I don’t think so. I went outside to eat, but I doubt they put any alcohol in my meal since I literally had a truffle-based pasta. No plans to drink this weekend, either.

Are you wearing shoes right now? Nope, I’m always barefoot around the house.

How long have you known your 1st phone contact? At least since the 6th grade cos I think that’s when she had transferred to my school.

Are they a relative? Nope, I went to school with her. We were seatmates for a while in sophomore year and that’s when I was able to see how talented she was at drawing and painting. She ended up transferring to UP as well after getting accepted to the fine arts program so we got to be collegemates as well, though I don’t really remember what university she initially got admitted to.

Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? Yeah, because I’m a dumb fuck when it comes to these things. I WILL SAY though that I’ll be so much kinder to myself should this ever happen, and no longer tolerate her bullshit and emotional/mental abuse under the guise of ~unconditional love. There’ll be a lot of shit she’ll have to pick up and fix, and I wouldn’t get back with her unless she acknowledges her mistakes and seek to correct them.

Would you ever go skinny dipping with the last person who commented you? That would be Leigh, and no. Idk if I’ve shared this or if this has ever come up on a survey but Andi actually once asked me if I’d like to be a part of a threesome with them and Leigh, and I just had to immediately decline because I view Leigh as a younger sister more than anything and I can’t bear to see her all naked loooool.

When was the last time you saw a movie in theaters? December 2019.

When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with? I think the morning of New Year’s Eve. I was already starting my healing process by then and the holidays were getting me feeling kind of peaceful, so I sent her a few voice notes thanking her for the year that was but giving her a heads-up that I might not talk to her for a while, because I realized I was starting to get happier on the days I didn’t force conversation with her.

I honestly thought ‘a while’ would only take a couple of weeks, but I’ve since gotten used without her presence and it’s been 3 1/2 months since our final encounter; and I think it will stay this way now.

Has anyone called you beautiful today? No.

Are you still friends with the last person who broke your trust? That would be JM, and yeah. I find him ridiculous for lying to our faces about joining a fraternity in law school (frats are a big yuck where I live because of their toxic hazing and misogynist culture), but I mean I still sort of understand why he had to do it - obviously not for the above reason, but for the perks and support that usually come with joining frats. From now on I’ll always see him as someone who can smoothly lie to my face, though.

Does drama seem to follow you everywhere? No. I would hate that lol, that would just be too much to handle.

Do you feel like anyone is playing mind games with you right now? No.

How would you feel if your best friend hooked up with your ex? I think my literal first reaction would be to laugh out of sheer disbelief, and then proceed to call her stupid for cheating and for choosing to cheat with her. After that’s died down, I think I’d mostly feel disappointed and betrayed.

How long did your last relationship last? The stint lasted 4 years, but we were technically together for 6 years if we’re counting the whole on/off thing.

If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? No. That’s what I had thought and they left. I’ve stopped trusting my feelings about these things anymore, and will assume anyone is capable of leaving.

Does it make you uncomfortable to talk on the phone around people? I just don’t want to be loud enough that I’m almost screaming around other people, but I can’t always monitor that since I have to concentrate on what I’m hearing on the other line.

Would you rather be 10 years older or 10 years younger? Probably 10 years older so that I can see into my future.

Have you ever kissed someone the same night your met them? No.

Do you bite your fingernails? Occasionally. I pick at them more frequently.

Would you consider yourself very flexible? Nah. Like I said on a previous survey, I can’t even reach my toes either while standing up or stretching on the floor.

Do you embarrass easily? Yeah.

Have you ever tried to talk your way out of getting a ticket? Yup. It’s happened twice; one of the occasions I was able to handle by myself and the other time Gab had to step in to talk to the officer because he was adamant about the ticket and I had started crying.

Did it work? Yes, both times. I’ve only been issued a ticket once, from this annoying grumpy officer in Alabang.

Have you ever been banned from anywhere? Trying to remember if I have been, but I don’t think so.

Do you have a ringtone or do you leave your phone on vibrate? The important messaging apps are on vibrate. I’ve turned off notifications for some apps and I have just the silent banner notifications for others.

What was the last thing you drank from a mug? I’m drinking coffee from one right now.

Has your #1 ever seen you naked?

Does your #2 know your deepest secret?

Will your #3 repost this?

Does your #4 smoke?

Were you born in the 90's? Yes, but by the end of it so I never considered myself a 90s kid.

When was the last time you paid less than $1 for something? The parking fee in Feliz.

Have you loaned anything out to anyone recently? Nope.

Are any of your siblings married? None of us are.

Who was the last person to spend the night with you at your house? Gabie.

How many different picture ids do you have in your wallet? Just my driver’s license and TIN ID.

Do you have a hard time making decisions? Depends on the weight of the decision. The heavier it is, the more I seek out friends who can provide fresh perspectives.

Has anyone kissed you when you weren't expecting it? Idk, Gabie probably snuck in some surprise ones a few times. IBetween the two of us I was more likely to do so, though.

Did you like it? If she did then I probably did during that time.

Who was your date to senior prom? We have junior prom, not senior prom. I just bought my favorite cousin since I had no interest in boys and was still learning how to make guy friends at that point.

Does your dad smoke? No, he’s never tried.

Is your mom over 50? She is turning 50 this year, but not until September.

Do you want to get married? It would be nice to experience it.

Have kids? Yes.

Are there any movies coming out you wanna see? Not that I know of. There are movies I do want to see, but they’ve already come out, like Ammonite and I Care A Lot.

Do you ever feel like you're leading a double life? No.

Do you have any plans to get a new tattoo or piercing? Tattoo, yeah. I’m just super chill about said plan and am not really in a hurry about it. I’ve yet to think of a design and where on my body to place it.

Do you know anyone named Christine? I know several people named Christine but they go by a nickname, like Tin.

Do you know anyone who's biracial? Sure, I went to high school with a couple of girls who are both half-brown and half-white as they both have European dads. I believe one of them is part German while the other girl is part Swiss.

Do you know anyone who works at Walmart? I don’t think so. I know my aunts who live in the US will occasionally shop there though, hahaha.

Has the last person you rode in a car with seen you in your underwear? I mean yeah, as a baby and as a young kid (it was my mom).

Are black bras sexy? They can be, sure.

Spell your full name without 'C','I','R', or 'Y': Obn.

Open the nearest book, turn to page 11, and type the first sentence: I’m at a Starbucks rn and didn’t bring any books with me.

Are you currently listening to anything? There’s jazz music faintly playing at the moment.

Would you ever consider getting breast implants? Before I definitely used to, when people still liked to make fun of small boobs. Nowadays I don’t feel the need to anymore.

If you could spend 30 minutes with someone who's gone, who would you pick? I’d probably pick my great-grandpa over my grandpa. I never met the former; and if I only had 30 minutes with my grandpa (who I did grow up with) I think it would just fuck with me psychologically.

Are you on birth control? Nopes.

Do you know anyone who is bisexual? Lots.

Would you walk into Walmart naked for $10,000? Yes.

Does anyone call you babe? No.

Do you hate it when people try to play with your hair? If I’m not close enough to them I would feel bothered, yes.

Who would you tell, or who did you tell when you lost your virginity? I think I had just told Sofie then.

Were you in a relationship 6 months ago? Yeah but it was cracking and it was cracking fast. It’ll be hitting 6 months this March, actually.

Are you still with that person? No.

Are you the kind of person who has crazy mood swings? No. This happens to my mom and I hate it very much, so I try to watch my actions and not switch rapidly between different moods.

This is question 69...so have you ;)? Sure.

How long is it until your birthday? Around a month and a couple of weeks.

#survey #surveys

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violetsystems · 4 years ago

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#personal

The holidays are quiet if not a little more restful than usual. I facetime’d my dad and his wife and talked to my mom on the phone. Since I left my job way back in July I haven’t had much video contact with anybody. Everybody is too busy baking banana bread on YouTube I guess to check in. The final days of my employment had devolved into a virtual SCRUM twice a day led by myself on camera. It was exhausting at times to lead but kept people focused. That is when they bothered to show up. One of my employees was off making music with my boss half the time I was trying to lead those discussions. I’m beginning to sense a theme. People saying they are there but not really. Maybe the mic is muted. Maybe you can’t see behind the screen. All I know is the follow through lately with people is missing entirely. I spent a good hour the last two days trying to decouple a credit card from my old job’s contact info. I’m locked out of both the phone number and the email attached to the account. I got the run around trying to provide a US passport to confirm my identity. It was good enough to enter China alone. The first call that ID was sufficient. They had said they sent an email to follow through with the process to two different emails I provided. The email never came most likely because neither had been tied to the account previously. I called back on Christmas eve and suddenly the passport wasn’t good enough. Neither was an expired driver’s license. The woman actually asked me why I hadn’t renewed my driver’s license. I told the truth. My ex girlfriend stole my car. That didn’t really help the situation. I sent a passport photo to unlock my facebook but they never followed through. I had an easier time unlocking my Fortnite account with it although that took a full week. I ended having to call the police on Christmas eve to explore filing a report for fraud and identity theft. The police officer on the phone pretty much gaslighted me at the end of the questioning. “Nothing criminal.” he stated plainly. I didn’t get mad. I didn’t even complain. I simply said Happy Holidays and hung up. Much like I’ve hung up on the last twenty years of my life at this point. Nobody seems to want to answer the video call. The opening introduction if they did would be something like “What exactly have you done with my life?” Maybe they’re afraid to confront the truth. The media, the government, and even the police seem to not want to believe evidence that contradicts their narrative. I guess you could throw up your hands and revolt. But the holidays have been peaceful and quiet enough to simply roll my eyes and move on. I’ve had years of failures to connect. COVID has taught me a lot of things. I heard the mantra in all the mandatory corporate webinars. This pandemic has brought to light structural problems we were never aware of before. Sexual harassment in the workplace. Check. Organizational corruption. Check. The fact everybody is full of bullshit and will just mute the mic and pretend it never happened. Check. People feel invincible behind a screen and think they know it all. Check. Now that we’re aware. What do we do? How do we move on with our life now that we have all this space? How do I even care about participating in a broken process when I have no debt and fiscal maturity? How can I go back to being the old me when I’ve been completely erased and conveniently forgot about? Why would I even bother?

Mostly I take the time with this process to make sure my identity is completely secure. Which is why it’s not really fun to be locked out of twenty years of your own information in the form of an email account and forgotten about for six months. But this is just the structural reality come to light. Much like the rest of America is waking up to the reality of what greed really does to people. That was my Christmas present this year aside from the coffee that never came and that Cyberpunk game that I don’t really have the time or the subpar computer setup to criticize. I’m guilty of tricking myself into thinking people care about me. I have statistical data from the last six months that proves otherwise. I also have financial data that points to whatever hustle I have been hustling during that time has paid off and will continue to. But I don’t really have an answer to anything. I’m in the worst kind of limbo. I don’t get the sense these days that I should even remotely worry until July. Which is kind of like saying fuck you to the world for the next six months. I spent the last six waking up from a nightmare. The only times I look back is to clean up the mess. And a Christmas Eve call to the police is kind of messy. But the result is more of the same for me. An extravagant “I told you so.” I’ve been telling myself for awhile now a lot of things. Some of them were kind of unbelievable. Now those very dreams are all I really take comfort in. The limbo I’m in is more pointed to the light at the end of the tunnel than the void. But I can’t say the same for everybody else. I work for myself for the time being. It looks really nice on paper. I can even pay myself if it fits into my organization’s financial outlook. But none of this matters when you or your struggles don’t even exist to people other than to mock or judge it. All the work we do to survive. All the work we do to create art and to be beautiful in the face of chaos. All of that is negated by a loud mouthed jerk who can bark you back into submission. A mob of dumb ass fraudsters that talk over and mute any opposition without any warrant or merit. The press follows this mentality pretty clearly. Everybody has a hot take and a theory. But nobody wants to sit down and listen to the culmination of lies spread about people and situations. Everyone is too emotionally interested in sharing their recipe for banana bread to an invisible audience. I guess I could be guilty of that too. Except that I share actual human emotion and care with a community of people who pay attention week to week. For a person like myself who has no real need to worry about money for the foreseeable future what’s the value of care and attention? A lot. I don’t feed myself with vapor or fake sentiments. I take it all at base level as real as it gets. You can’t build a future on speculation. You can technically if you are in the stock market. But risk is risk. And money is money. No one can be me at the end of the day. Sometimes I can’t even prove I’m myself. My mom reminded me I had to provide ten pieces of documentation to renew my passport ten years ago. The reasoning was simple. The government did not believe I existed. No bullshit. A decade later nothing really has changed. I’ve been to Shanghai by myself and eaten McDonald’s. I read all these Republicans talk about how you put your identity at risk just setting foot in that country.

And yet when does the rhetoric and brainwashing fall flat on it’s face? When you can’t pass economic stimulus to not only save your own people but the fragile stock market all this bullshit is built upon. I could keep telling you I told you so. Or I could save my own ass. And largely I did without really owing much to this country whatsoever except taxes in Q1. Taxes billionaires don’t have to pay because they offer us so much relevant employment and benefits that fit on their bottom line. The real truth is that America would rather not face the truth. It hasn’t for years. It’s built on this kind of thing. It always has been. And the world gets bigger and the excuses get worse. And so what does anyone expect a person like me to do after you openly admit that there’s nothing criminal going on here. How does that sound when you’ve been treated openly like a criminal in so many unsettling ways that you just don’t want to participate in society anymore? Not that anyone really asks me to participate. They’re too busy signaling or whispering secret messages. Is it suggestion or valid communication? I’m the one that has to shift through it all and detangle the mess from what is real and what is some sort of mass hallucination. An alternate reality hunger game that the rich have been playing for years without any punishment or oversight. When you get caught up in the crossfire they expect you to know the drill. Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you. None of this is good for me. You could argue it made me the beast that I am. But I am the one who had to actively make that choice to adapt and survive. But I’m not like any normal person these days. I refuse to admit it anymore. They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. I have a problem. One that it seems I cannot fix. And if you isolate and quarantine yourself from an entire twenty years of nostalgia what is left? Where are the texts of merry xmas from yesteryear. Probably pinging my old work number. I can’t access my facebook. Maybe that’s for the best. I can’t shut down lines of credit until I renew my state ID. I could jump on a plane and visit Shanghai Disney quicker than I could prove I’m alive to the US government. And when does the constant gaslighting break down? When do we realize that people gaslight to cover up an elaborate lie that has gotten out of control. That we are not all in this together. Not by a longshot. That the problem of connectedness is right there in front of our faces. We’re exhausted propping up entire infrastructures that keep a bloated empire alive. Family fortunes built on opioids and war strewn out across the landscape in trusts and elaborate tax schemes. Oligarchs that have generational wealth that buy our politicians and scam people into debt and forced labor. This is America. This is the systemic problem the pandemic brought to light. This shit was built this way. And like any fort constructed with shaky foundations, good luck hiding from the storm in that shit. At least I can still access my Epic account. What am I going to do for the next six months? Complain about something I can’t fix because everybody wants to consider me part of the problem? I don’t know what to do anymore except move forward and lead by example. There’s enough quality people who follow to keep me warm with those thoughts through the holidays alone. I won’t be drunk on a zoom call. I’ll be in bed watching Wonder Woman or something. When everyone you worshipped comes out of this looking fake, tired and exhausted you’ll know where to find me. Unlocking more accounts tied to an identity that doesn’t exist anymore. Nothing criminal. Hopefully people will stop treating me like one eventually. <3 Tim

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lefaystrent · 5 years ago

Note

that one kid!logan ask featuring the teenage sides in their adult bodies. like that anon radiates big brain energy. i'm just imagining Logan tracking one of them down, and their shock that oh he really was as old as he said he was, he wasn't joking. And they break down crying, because nothing makes sense anymore but at least Logan is still Logan, he's still his no nonsense logical self no matter what he looks or sounds like.

Back to the Future

Fandom: Thomas Sanders,Sanders Sides

Pairings: platonic LAMP

Word Count: 3444

Chapter Navigation: part 2

Masterlist Link

________________________________________________________________

Patton wakes up in a very strangeplace indeed.

Someone shakes him awake. He becomesimmediately aware that he’s sleeping at a desk.

“You’ve got to actually go homesometimes, Patton,” someone chides him lightheartedly.

“Wha-?” Patton breaks off in a yawnand stretches.

His back pops, and the sound seemsto snap him awake. He’s in an unfamiliar office. There are stacks of paperworkand folders and letters, everything kept in an organized disarray. A womanstands next to him, smiling yet slightly worried.

“Got your morning cup of joe,” shesays, sitting a Starbucks cup in front of him.

“Who’s Joe?” Patton says dumbly,still trying to process whether or not this is a dream.

The woman laughs and doesn’t givehim an actual answer. She lets herself out of the office. Patton blinks in thewake of her absence.

That’s when he realizes that beyondthe open doorway, there are more desks with more people. All of them adults andbusy working.

Patton takes his glasses off to rubat his eyes. He’s about to put them back on when he notices something thattwists his stomach.

These aren’t his glasses.

They’re a sleek black, rectangular.Unlike his usual round pair.

He puts them back on slowly.

They’re his prescription.

Confused, Patton looks down athimself.

Why is he wearing a watch? He neverwears a watch. Has he ever owned a watch?

And his clothes. He has poloshirts, but this isn’t one of his. And the pants and shoes. Wait, why is therea cardigan tied around his shoulders?

Patton hurriedly glances around theroom. The desk faces the door. Behind him is a window.

He catches sight of his reflectionin the glass. He looks like a dad. He looks like his dad.

“Holy moly,” Patton whispers,because past his reflection he can see the hustle and bustle of the big city.

They’re like a bajillion floors up.

Unnerved, Patton jumps to his feet.No amount of looking out the window can change what he sees. He attempts tomake sense of the desk he’d been sitting at. He eyes the coffee.

“I don’t like coffee,” he says tohimself, as if that’s the biggest thing wrong with this picture.

“Patton,” someone knocks on thedoor and he jerks his head up. “Meeting. Fifteen minutes.”

Patton stares at the man for longerthan what’s polite. He’s never met this man, but he could easily picture him asone of his dad’s fishing buddies. And yet, he knows Patton’s name.

“Meeting?” he echoes.

The man sighs. “You forgot again,didn’t you? Well, this is why I’m reminding you.” He goes to duck out butremembers something. “Oh, and uh, might wanna spruce up a little bit. Gottastop pulling the all-nighters. That’s my job, ha!”

“Right,” Patton smiles, rushing tofix his mess of hair. He waits for the man to leave before letting his smiledrop.

Just what has he gotten himselfinto?

Patton can’t do this.

Before he can try to slip out ofthe offices, the nice lady from before catches up to him. She redirects him tothe place of the meeting the man mentioned before.

“Honestly sir,” she shakes her headin exasperation, as if she’s done this a million times and Patton is just aforgetful puppy.

“Right, just got turned around!” heclaims. She doesn’t even look at him weirdly, just leaves him there by aconference type of room. And then the people inside are already trying to talkto him and he can’t just ignore them, so he goes inside and sits andsmiles and nods and panics on the inside.

The man who told him about themeeting is there. He’s apparently in charge and dives right into things,talking about circulation and how it’s down and they need to get it up, and whatdoes medical stuff have to do with anything?

But that isn’t the case at all. Ifnothing else, Patton is an excellent listener. In this room are journalists andwriters and editors, and this is a newspaper? These people work at a newspaper?They think Patton works at a newspaper?

With sweaty palms, Pattondesperately reaches into his pocket hoping to find his phone. He finds aphone at least. It’s … got to be his if it was in his pocket, right? Justlike with the strange glasses and different clothes. He also finds a wallet hedoesn’t recognize and opens it.

There’s his driver’s license. Thepicture is him, but … weird? Something’s really off about it. And the dates… the issue date is … in the future? And the address? That’s not hisaddress! That’s not even the right city!

“Patton?” someone says and suddenlythe room is staring at him all at once.

Patton tries to speak. He tries to keepingsmiling. He really, really tries.

“I can’t do this,” he gasps out. Hestands abruptly, almost knocking over his chair. Someone or multiple someone’scall after him, but he races out. He doesn’t know where he’s going. He justspeed walks down the halls, avoids eye contact with those he passes, and leapsinto the first elevator he spots.

He smashes the button for theground floor. He’s alone inside and there’s no pretty elevator music, andPatton’s breaths echo off the wall far too loudly.

“What’s going on?” Patton whimpersto no one, doing his best to hold it together. He’s not going to cry. He’s not.He just needs to—to try to call someone. Get back to familiar territory.

He pulls out the cellphone again,hoping that his gut feeling is right. The lock screen lights up, and withoutthinking he uses his regular passcode.

It works.

Patton doesn’t think past hisrelief. He struggles to find a contact’s list.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he whispers.

The doors ding open. There’s a lobbyarea with a couple of secretaries running a front desk. Patton can feel theireyes on him like pins pricking his skin. He smiles, trying not to cringe, andforces himself to leave the elevator and walk out the front doors. Rather thanstray too far, he wanders to the nearby parking lot.

Patton finds his parents’ numberson the list. Neither one of them pick up. He tries to call his older brother.No answer either. He even sees his little brother’s name, but since when didDee have a phone? He was only ten and their parents said he wasn’t allowed toget a cellphone until high school.

He tried anyway. No surprise, hedidn’t pick up.

“Just—somebody please,”Patton begs under his breath.

There are so many names in thecontact’s list, way more than what his usual phone has, and so many names thathe doesn’t know. He scrolls way down to the bottom, trying to find Virgil’sname. Virgil’s name isn’t there. Frustrated, Patton scrolls back to the top,searching for Logan’s name, but he double checks and that isn’t there either!

“I don’t like this, I don’t likethis,” Patton chants. He takes in a huge shaky breath, closing his eyes andcovering his mouth for a minute.

Why weren’t their names there? Whywouldn’t his parents pick up? Why did he wake up in a newspaper office?

“Roman,” Patton says, swallowingdown the lump in his throat. He brings the phone up to search again. “I haven’tchecked his name. There’s still Roman.”

Patton chokes out a relieved laughwhen he finds Roman’s name there. He quickly mashes the call button.

It rings forever and ever. His callis forwarded to voice mail.

“Can’t come to the phone right now,but if you’ll leave a message, my handsome self will get back to you,” the familiarvoice says. The phone beeps, signaling the message is being recorded.

“Ro?” Patton asks, one last sparkof hope that he’ll pick up. That he won’t be so painfully alone.

But no one’s coming to rescue himand get him out of this mess.

“Ro, kiddo … please, pleasecall me, okay? I—I think something’s happened, and it’d sure be great to hearfrom you. Alright kiddo. Love you. Bye-bye.”

He’s on his own.

Patton manages to calm down enoughto find his car. He has keys in his pocket, so there’s gotta be a car nearby,right?

He’s right and there it is, asunfamiliar as everything else. The headlights flare, the doors unlock, andPatton stares at the powder blue paint job.

“It’s not stealing if I have thekeys,” Patton firmly tells himself.

He opens the car door and slidesinside. There’s a half drank water bottle in the cupholder. Envelopes addressedto him sit in a small pile in the passenger’s seat. A colorful necklace hangsfrom the rearview mirror, a rainbow charm hanging off of it.

Patton glances at his driver’slicense again, but the information remains unchanged.

“Guess there’s only one way to findout,” he mutters to himself as he pulls up gps on his phone. He types theaddress in and starts the car.

It’s the most stressful drive ofhis life, and yet it passes in a blur. There’s so much traffic, more than he’sever had to drive in before, and someone honks their horn on him when heaccidentally cuts them off.

“Sorry, sorry!” Patton says overand over again. He listens with absolute focus to the directions his phonetells him.

After a frantic twenty minutes andthree wrong turns, Patton makes it to a residential district. It’s a peacefulsuburban neighborhood, not entirely unlike the one he grew up in.

Patton drives slowly and reads themailboxes off as he goes. He finds ‘his’ house.

It’s … nice.

He pulls into the driveway. Theengine quiets as he turns the key.

He could see himself living there.That’s the scariest part.

Patton exits the car. He stares upat the house, the too big, too nice house that can’t be his.

This can’t be real.

“Patton!”

He startles and looks towards theneighbor’s house. There’s a woman, maybe around thirty? She’s taking out thetrash.

“Did you finally get a day off?”she laughs in greeting.

Patton rubs the back of his neckand tries to laugh too. “Oh, you know me.”

Yes he’s aware of how ironic hisstatement is.

He glances quickly at the woman,her yard, anything that might strike a memory. He draws a blank as he stares ata little kid’s bicycle parked by the porch steps.

“Uh, how are the kids?” Patton says.

They talk for far too long. Pattondraws on everything that he’s learned from Roman about acting.

In the back of his head he’sscreaming.

Patton sits on his living roomcouch.

It’s got to be his couch. This hasto be his house. All the mismatched furniture has to be his too.

Patton can see himself buying the house,having his friends over to help move in. He can hear Roman and Virgil arguingover Patton’s poor choice in décor, how they would squabble over how todecorate. Logan would be there too, giving his own input and worrying more overfunctionality than aesthetics.

Gosh Patton could really use a friendright now.

Earlier, as he’d snooped around, he’dfound pictures. Lots of pictures. Many of them with him in it. Lots of oneswith his family, with Roman.

There were hardly any with Virgil,and those were pretty much the ones he’d already seen before, the ones he knewhe had. Ones taken from high school with him and Ro.

There’s none at all with Logan.

Patton doesn’t know whether or notthat’s more concerning than the other thing he noticed about the pictures.

Everyone looks kinda … different.

Kinda older. Too old.

He saw a picture of his olderbrother and nearly didn’t recognize him. He saw one where Dee looked all grownup!

Patton stares down at his hands.They’re a little bigger than he remembers. A little rougher.

It’s like he’s woken up in adifferent world.

Maybe if he went to sleep, he’dwake up in the right place again?

Patton falls to the side, sinkinginto the cushions.

He closes his eyes and tries not tothink.

Patton wakes up to the sound ofbanging. He wipes at his face, sitting up with a groan.

It’s still daylight, but the sunhas shifted. It’s more afternoon now. The banging is coming from the frontdoor.

Patton’s still in his house that hedoesn’t remember buying.

Hopeless despair grips his hearttight, and he’s too tired to do anything other than accept it.

He rises to his feet. There’s nothingelse he can do. He might as well see who’s at the door.

He opens the front door to find asharply dressed man. He’s wearing a black polo with a blue-striped tie andslacks. His dark hair is a mess, like he’d rushed out the door withoutbothering to comb it down. He’s wearing glasses that look a lot like the ones Pattonwears now. The glasses do nothing to hide the wide brown eyes.

“Patton,” the man says, emphasizingthe name like it should mean something, like he was waiting for Patton toreact.

Patton cocks his head to the side.This is … this is …

“Salutations,” the man says and itall clicks into place.

“Logan?” Patton breathes out.

Logan sighs heavily, leaning intothe doorframe with slumped shoulders.

“It appears that we are in a complicatedsituation,” his friend says in a timbre far deeper than the little kid he onceknew.

Patton stops hesitating. He surgesforward and throws his arms around Logan.

“I was so scared,” Pattonsays, and he’s gone straight into crying. All of those built-up emotions areoverflowing now. “Logan, I—I woke up and there was—I wasn’t home, and therewere people, and they knew me but I didn’t know them. And I panicked andran away and—my driver’s license is weird! It said my address was here so I cameto check it out because nobody was picking up—I tried to call, nobody wouldpick up. Nobody would—”

“Patton, it is okay,” Logan reassureshim.

Patton can feel Logan’s armswrapped around him, a comforting hand resting on the back of his head to groundhim. It occurs to him that Logan must be an inch or two taller now.

“It’s okay,” he says again. “I’mhere now, and we will figure this out together.”

“Logan … what’s going on?” Pattonsniffs, his eyes burning and wet.

“… it appears that we are in thefuture.”

“Oh …” Patton says because that’sall he can say. “Oh … okay.”

He hugs Logan tighter.

“But how would this even happen?”Patton asks. He’s back to sitting in the living room. Logan’s pacing back andforth in front of him and it’s kind of distracting in a sense that Patton ismesmerized at seeing how much Logan has grown up. He’d always acted too maturefor his age, and now he looks it too!

Logan doesn’t break stride as heanswers, “You woke up like this, correct? There weren’t any inklings of the . .. ‘process’ that must have brought us here?”

“No—I mean, yes I woke up andsuddenly everything was different, but I don’t remember anything weird thathappened before that.”

“What do you remember beforethat?”

“I—” Patton goes to answer but he findshe can’t say for sure. “I … might have went to bed?”

“Might?”

“I don’t really remember.”

“You don’t remember what happenedyesterday.”

“Not really. I’m—I’m not sure whatI remember last actually. Logan, what does that mean? Did I hit my head?”

“If that’s the case, then I musthave hit mine as well.” Logan stops pacing and shakes his head to dismiss theidea. “No, I hypothesize that this is merely a side-affect to time travel.”

“Time travel … We really timetraveled.” Patton might still be struggling to process this.

“It would seem so,” Logan answers. “Idon’t have enough evidence to deduce our situation accurately, but from what I’vegathered I am not entirely sure that time traveling in one’s own body ispossible. Instead, our consciousness is what has traveled and arrived in ourself of the time we’ve landed in.”

“What?”

“What I’m saying is that it mightbe impossible to travel to the future and meet your future self. There is onlyone you at any given time, so instead your consciousness travels to the you ofthat time, possessing them as it were. That’s why we appear older in a future settingwithout any memory of the years in between.”

“That’s … a lot to take in.”

“Indeed.”

Patton’s back to staring at his hands.He feels the couch dip beside him, Logan sitting down.

“… you’re acting reallylevel-headed about this,” Patton observes.

“I suppose I am adept at compartmentalizing.”

“… Logan? Are you really fromthe future?”

And there it is. One of the theoriesthat he and Virgil and Roman had jokingly thought about Logan. Their strange littlegenius friend, too mature unlike any kid should be.

Somehow it all makes sense now.

“I think you already know theanswer, Patton,” Logan says, not hiding behind anything.

Patton looks at him. Really looksat him. The face might have changed a lot, but those guileless blue eyes arethe same as always.

“Is this what happened to you?”Patton asks. And oh, he can imagine it. Logan waking up as a little kid, scaredand confused and trying to make the most of it.

“Yes. I woke up much like this. Inever could remember exactly what happened to me previously. Time travel seemsto affect memory.”

“But why us? What did we do?”

“That I have no answer for. But asit started with me, I can only apologize if my presence in your life caused youto get caught up in this.”

“No, no kid—I mean, Logan. This isn’tyour fault. How can it be when you don’t even remember?”

“The fact that I can’t rememberdoes not absolve me. I could possibly have instigated this and simply bear nomemory of the fact.”

“But I know you wouldn’t doanything to hurt or scare me or anyone else.”

“There are too many variables,”Logan responds, a non-answer.

Patton reaches over to place a handon his forearm. He squeezed. “Logan, I trust you. We’ll figure this puzzle out,together.”

“Together …” Logan repeats in amumble. “If you’re here like this, it’s possible that we are not the only ones.”

Patton gasps, patting urgently atLogan’s arm. “I tried to call my family but they wouldn’t pick up. And then Icalled Roman, but he wasn’t there—but Logan! I don’t have Virgil’s number forsome reason. Or yours!”

“You don’t?”

“No! And come look at this!”

Patton drags him from the couch.They go look at the pictures on the wall.

Patton doesn’t need to tell Loganwhat’s wrong with them.

“Virgil doesn’t appear much at all,if in any, after high school. I myself am entirely absent from these.”

“And that doesn’t sound like me atall.” Patton frowns. “I love taking pictures with people. I should have a bunchof all of my best friends.”

“Unless we’re not your friends.”

Patton stares at him, notcomprehending. For once Logan understands the shift of his mood. He lays a handon Patton’s shoulder.

“Much can happen over the years.People lose touch all the time, especially after the high school years.”

Patton shakes his head slowly indisbelief. “But—but I wouldn’t! Not with Virgil or you!”

“Yes, maybe with Virgil. If he’snot here in your pictures and you don’t have his number, then it is extremelylikely that you do not communicate seldomly if at all. As for me, I thinksomething different has occurred.”

Tears gather in Patton’s eyes. Hegrabs onto Logan’s wrist. “What do you mean? That we’re not friends in thefuture?”

“Not just that we aren’t friends,”Logan answers. “In this timeline, I don’t think we met at all.”

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General Tag list: @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie @unring-this-bell @analogicallythinking @lilygold23 @punsterterry @levy-the-b00kw0rm @tacohippy56900 @accio-hufflepuff-power1 @just-another-rainbowblog @georganabanana @grey-says-heck @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @thesynysterunknown @idont-know-what-im-doing @idioticsky @fadingglowcloud @whizzie72 @theinvisiblespoon @greyyy523 @opaque-puppet @just-fic-me-up @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @sos-fandoms @loganeatsbooks @trust-is-overrated @theitalianalchemist @im-crunchie @mourning–star @4amanxiety @hogwarts-my-love @enby-phoenix @justanotherpurplebutterfly @internet-or-sleep @absolutesandersidestrash @seaspider10 @nonasficcollection @small-words-to-say @satanblessi @an-absolute-failure @analogical-mess @noisyeggpizzapatrol @hamilsandersfam @cefinitely-rolo @thgjclw @knight-shives @no-no-no-no-6 @savingshae @rabbitsartcorner

Kid Logan AU list: @under-the-blue-moonlight @broadwaytheanimatedseries @joyful-milkshake-observation @absolutesandersidestrash @midnightmagi @justcallmepancake @nerd-in-space @thestrangedino @deathshadowrules @entitydark @vintage-squid @max-is-tired @deceitfullyanxiousprince @shai-uwu @teacupfulofstarshine @the5thcoy @occasionally-pauciloquent @oakskull @teepee-honesty @mrtacothethird @fandomobsessed-nerd @mychemicalcheezwhiz @that-smol-tired-gay @skittlesun @caterpiller-tea @sanders-sides-rebloger @penguinkool @its-the-cat-queen @liz-a-bell @theresneverenoughfandoms @i-know-im-smart @ever-after-aaa @007ardra @starbucks-remy @lovebug5151 @yyeeeeeeeeett @adoratato @theobsessor1 @soijusthavetoask @ab-artist @always-in-a-fandom @iris-sanders-athena @doing-my-demibest @connors-writing-sux @lizziepopanime @charakitcat @dall-off-weekes @kylie-with-purple-hair @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @sign-from-god-complex @pumpkinminette @cosmic-melodies @sullycreatesstuff @lovesupportandcookies @som3thing-cr3ativ3 @unicornlogansanders @rainysharkfreaklover @potato–justpotato @ghostscantdie @virgilneedsahug @thatonenerdphotographer @the-cactus-lord @cocobearthe4th @neverasherpoetry @midnight–fox @falsehoodx @crazy-rat-man @lokinas @rosiepupper @insert–self–hatred

#sanders sides #kid logan au #logan #logan sanders #patton #patton sanders #writing #fanfiction #Anonymous

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