#its fine its fine its fine shut up gremline no one likes u

[unimportantweirdo]

ITS TAKEN ME ABOUT 30-ISH HOURS AND ABOUT 6000 RHINESTONES BUT

I FINISHED MY GGUM HOODIE

[weareallstoriesintheend]

As Long As You Need (Reader x Adam Sackler)

Summary: Adam and Reader are hookup buddies. Adam gets concerned that you don't want to see him for a few weeks and comes over to check on reader. Reader is struggling with anxiety/depression and Adam comforts them through a panic attack.

Warnings: Depression, anxiety & panic attacks

Note: This was the fic I wrote for the Summer 2021 @adcuficexchange for LondonID!🥰 I hope this fic is something that resonates with people, I know mental health is a vast and personal subject but I hope something hits home. Even if it's just some beautiful care from our favourite gremlin 💕

The light of the day was fading slowly and the grey cover of dusk was slipping its way into the room. You lay in bed, head tucked against the pillows, body exhausted with the expense of the energy anxiety was taking from you. You felt empty and yet full to the brim, your mind weighed so heavy that you could barely move most days. The second you heard the loud thumping knocks on your front door you jolted as if waking up from a bad dream.

“Kid you in there?” Adams voice came, muffled by the thick wood of the doors between you, booming through your silence. You realised in that moment that you hadn’t spoken to him or seen him for a while and as someone who was a pretty regular occurrence in your life it suddenly felt strange to hear his voice after such a long time, you pulled your phone out from under the pillow and unlocked it. Your eyes screwed shut at the blinding light, but peeking through your eyelashes you checked your messages. Your last text to him had been nearly 3 weeks ago, then the page was just filled with him texting you again and again. All of which, in the haze of your mind, you had ignored. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him; you craved his cheeky smile, soft hair and adorable galaxy of freckles that smattered his skin. It was just the thought of having to explain the tornado that was tearing you apart that felt like a crushing pressure you couldn’t bear. Basic daily life was enough, sometimes too much, so anything on top of that you had shut out.

You curled yourself into the sheets a little more, pulling them around your shoulders. Although they were soft cotton the brush of them across your overly sensitive skin felt like sandpaper dragging over a raw exposed nerve. You stayed as still as possible whilst his knocks continued to echo through your apartment.

In a way you wondered if you had any obligation to him at all, you guys just hooked up every now and again after meeting at a mutual friends birthday party a year or so ago. Nothing serious, no dates, just fucking. He scratched an itch for you so you didn’t have to brave the dating world that daunted you. He was fun, he made you laugh but he didn’t pressure you to spend any more time with him than coming over to hold you face down into your mattress allowed.

The knocks turned to bangs of a fist and you pulled your blanket over your head, maybe he’d just go away if he thought you weren’t home. Your body thrummed with the disturbance of your comfortable silence and it made you uneasy. A slight nausea rippled through your throat. “I know you’re home” his voice bellowed, you closed your eyes and didn’t respond. “Open the fucking door kid” he shouted, he didn’t sound angry but you couldn’t quite make out the tone. He’d never used it before around you that’s for sure, he almost sounded worried. Then there was more thumping on the door, “Kid, for fucks sake your sweet old lady neighbour is looking at me like I’m fucking nuts, open the door”

You sighed and slung yourself off the bed onto your feet. The rush of movement made your head spin; your muscles and joints ached with a lack of energy. You tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the main room of your apartment, hoping that he couldn’t hear your deliberately soft padding footsteps. With your eyes trained on the door you didn’t notice the chair sticking out from the table and you bumped it as you passed. You froze dead still waiting to see if he’d heard it.

“I can hear you rustling around in there. Just open the fucking door and talk to me”

“I don’t want you to see me” you replied hesitantly, not raising the volume of your voice too high knowing he could hear you through the door now. The croak of your voice finally speaking was crackly and broken. “Why not?”

“I… I don’t look great” you looked at yourself in the reflection of the painting hanging on the wall. In the glass you could just about see yourself looking back; your hair was greasy and dishevelled, your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red and dark circles created a deep shadow underneath them. You suddenly balked at how awful you actually looked, you hadn’t showered in a few days and it really showed. Your face looked kind of gaunt with the limited food and sleep you’d given yourself for the last few weeks, mind always racing with one thought after another. The racing thoughts only leaving space for the basics of working at your laptop for 8 hours a day and activities to numb your mind till a restless bedtime. “Are you kidding?” he scoffed, thumping his fist once against the door, “I’ve seen you sweating, crying and covered in my cum… I don’t think you looking a little messy is going to be bother me” You cringed at how loud he was talking and in your embarrassment you frantically pulled the door open, “Jesus Adam don’t say that so loud my neighbours will hear y-“ you paused mid-sentence when you saw how he was looking at you. He was shocked and trying to hide it but his eyes were wide with sympathy. You instantly went to close the door on him again but he put his overly large foot in the way.

“Nope, no way! You opened it, I’m like a vampire, you’ve got to let me in now” he smiled cheekily. You sighed and let go of the door walking away from him. “Listen I don’t know why you’re here” you said, voice trailing behind you as you made your way to the couch hearing him step inside and close the door behind him, “I don’t really think I’m in any fit state to be fucking anyone” “I’m not here to fuck you” he retorted, for some reason that kind of stung. “Then why are you here?” you said, nestling into the couch cushions as he firmly placed himself standing in front of you. Adam was staring down at you with that intense glare he always seemed to have and you squinted your eyes, hurting due to the light from the windows, to look up at him. “Why am I here? You haven’t talked to me for like… three weeks. What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? I thought I was going to find you rotting in the bathtub or some shit” You rolled your eyes “I’m fine” “Oh right this…” he paused, flailing his arms at the quite frankly disgusting state of your living room, “… this is ‘fine’?” “This is as good as it gets” you muttered under your breath. He scoffed and you looked up at him, you took a second to take him in. He’d clearly run here, the beads of sweat were trailing gently down his temples and had matted the curly little front pieces of his hair. The outfit he was wearing, a dark blue cut off tank top, grey knee length shorts and heavy tan work boots over cream socks, would look kind of uncoordinated on anyone else but something about Adam always just… made sense.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nothing” you rolled your eyes again, “You know you can just go right? I don’t even know why you’re bothering”

“What are you talking about kid? I wanted to make sure you were alright. You went all ghost on me and I was worried about you”

“Worried?” now it was your turn to scoff, you could feel the sickening panic rolling around inside your stomach and you needed him to leave.

“Yeah kid… worried” Adams voice suddenly had a tinge of anger behind it and it made the panic swirl harder around inside you.

“Well I don’t need you to worry about me. That’s not your job, your job is to fuck me and leave. And you’re good at that. So you do your job and I’ll do mine”

“Not true” he retorted, face screwed up a little against the harshness of your words.

“You were the one that set those rules Adam” you replied, frustration tainting your words “You don’t need to act like you give a shit”

“Hey when I commit, I really commit” “Commit to what?” you shouted, losing a little of your patience as your ears started to ring and the blood pumped through your body like a steady beat of music. “Commit to you!” he yelled back “We may not be dating or whatever but when I want someone in my life I work for that. Clearly you don’t…we are supposed to be fucking friends after all!”

He had every right to be mad, you had barely treated him like a human being lately and the wash of guilt made your heart start to jump in its rhythm. You could feel the brush of heat up the back of your neck and your pulse thudding in your ears. You shook your head wishing away what you knew was happening; the panic of the overwhelming sense of everything was rising up from your toes. He couldn’t see you like this, it was too embarrassing.

Although your breath was basically coming out like gasps you looked up at him and firmly said “Please leave”

He shook his head “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re avoiding me. Did I do something?” You stood up from your seat on the couch but didn’t get very far, your body felt over stimulated and you couldn’t get your mind clear enough to decide where to go to escape him. So you started pacing back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides.

“Adam please just go” this time your voice betrayed you even further, the tell-tale break in your speech giving away the tears that had begun to brim in your eyes. You pushed the base of your palms harshly into your eye sockets, rubbing away the tears. “Hey hey hey” he said softly, reaching out for your wrists and you flinched back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Please just leave!” you shouted, panicked breath coming out of you in heavy pants. “I can’t breathe” you whispered to yourself turning away from him. Your tears, now virtually unstoppable, cascaded down your cheeks as the panic truly set in. You swayed slightly as you began to feel light-headed.

“Tell me what you need” you heard him say, but his voice felt like it was miles away from you even as he stood mere steps away with his hands outstretched slightly in your direction.

This was it, you were officially going crazy. You couldn’t even handle a simple conversation or own up to your shitty actions. You stole a glance at Adam, his eyebrows were pulled down with concern watching you and a wave of nausea rolled up into the back of your throat. He was going to think you were insane after this, this was the last time you were ever going to see him and this was how you were acting. You felt your cheeks heat up, burning with panic and embarrassment. One of the only things that kept you afloat, the only thing had made you happy as of late, was going to walk out. You could imagine him telling his friends about the crazy chick he used to fuck on the side, “She just totally flipped out on me, honestly man fucking nuts” you could practically hear his voice already, full of mocking vitriol towards you.

Then you really started to hyperventilate, chest aching with the weight of your gasps, but something in the back of your mind gave you respite… that wasn’t Adam. That wouldn’t be how he would act. He was kind. You glanced up at him as your hands began to shake violently.

“I-I’m sorry” you stuttered out, you felt your body collapse underneath you as the room began to spin around you. He dove forward to catch you as your body buckled down to the hard wooden floor.

“Come here” his voice was gentle and barely audible to you but he held you tight, this time you didn’t flinch and he quickly gathered you into his arms in the fear you would move away from him again. “It’s just a panic attack, you’re going to be okay. I’m right here, it’ll be over soon” As he pulled you into his chest, seating himself on the floor with you, he stretched his long legs out around you so his whole body was caging you against him. Your breath instantly started to slow down as the warmth and closeness of him soothed you. He didn’t speak too much, he just calmed your mind with hushed whispers of “Shhh” and “You’re going to be okay”.

You clung yourself to him, vibrating with the force of the trembles that were wracking your body. Your teeth chattered in your head causing you to screw your eyes closed in pain. Your fingers wound tight in his shirt as your breathing finally began to even out. Your body released some of the tension that was winding your muscles tight and you leant a little more into his chest.

“H-how did you know?” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper as you regained your breath.

He shrugged “My mom used to get them… and my sister for a while. I’m used to it.” he smiled softly, lips merely twitching up at the edges as he gauged your reaction. He stroked his large hand through your tangled hair, massaging his fingers over your scalp as your body relaxed and you sighed. “Better?” he asked, placing a careful kiss to the top of your head. You nodded, the scent of his cologne and sweat drifted over you as you kept yourself gripped against him, not quite ready to be moved from his warmth.

“You didn’t have to do this” you croaked, looking up at him now. He shook his head and rolled his eyes jokingly, a smirk coming over his lips as he does it.

“You know we don’t just have to fuck right? We can be more than that.” he chuckled, holding your face gently with one hand, “We can also talk, we are friends right?”

You nodded again, looking up at him with wide glassy eyes. He kissed the tip of your nose and you scrunched it.

“Listen maybe we’re just friends for a little while. We can… get lunch or walk through the park when the weather gets better. Whatever you want” he shrugged, you smiled at the level of effort he was so clearly trying to give. Adam hated stuff like that, lunches out and walks in the park; he often said how trivial it all seemed to him. He liked to be at home in his own little world. So the fact he was offering to make you feel better was more than enough to bring a smile to your face. You nodded and giggled when he pumped the air with his fist in celebration.

“And you know, if you need someone to come with you to therapy or whatever I can do that too” he mumbled clearly unsure how you would respond, “You still go to therapy right? I know you mentioned it a while ago and I figured-“ he began to ramble nervously. You pressed your hand into his chest and nodded.

You pushed yourself up a little and placed a kiss to his cheek, “That would help, thank you”

He shuffled a little and rose to get to his feet before extending a hand out to you. You clasped your hand across his, so much smaller in his grasp, and used his body weight to pull yourself up on unsteady legs. He wrapped his arms around you a little bit, his body hunched over yours protectively.

“But first, you need food… and a shower” he paused for a moment, making small grunt-like thinking noises as he looked you over. Then all at once he dipped and gathered you up in his arms, you squealed loudly and wrapped your arms around his neck “What are you doing?” you protested through unsure giggles.

He didn’t say anything but started walking towards your bathroom. He kicked the door open with the toe of his boot and swung his arms so that your head just missed the door frame. He propped you, sitting upright, on the edge of your bathtub before reaching up and turning on your shower. He gestured for you to stand as the water began heating up behind you. Soft clouds of steam quickly started to rise up around the room and he nodded with satisfaction. He tentatively tugged at the base of your oversized-hoodie and you raised your arms above your head. He slipped your hoodie off in one swift motion and dropped it to the floor beside you both. You self-consciously crossed your arms over your now bare chest and he smiled down at you. He placed a kiss to your forehead before kneeling down to wriggle your panties off your hips and down your legs. You shuffled shyly, despite the fact he’d seen you naked so very many times, and stepped out of them as he reached your ankles. He tossed them on top of your hoodie, placing a tender kiss to your stomach as he knelt in front of you, before standing back up to his full height “I’ll get you fresh stuff and wash those” he noted, almost to himself as he spun you by your shoulders so you had your back to him. “You get in there” he pointed to the steady stream of hot water creating billows of steam in the small bathroom, “And I’m going to make you some soup, you still have cans of that chicken one you like?” You nodded once and he placed a firm kiss to your shoulder. With his hands on your waist he placed a final kiss to the top of your head before his touch left you completely. You smiled at his constant need to show you physical care, it was like he understood how even simple affection could heal even the worst of the pain your brain could throw at you. You turned to look over your shoulder as he left the room; like he sensed your hesitation he stopped and turned to look at you with a sweet smile…

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me too”

[sunsinrinn]

“Thank you so much!! I was thinking about a hc for kirishima, todoroki and bakugo with a reader who is generally super friendly to others but very shy around them bc they r very much crushing on them hehe” - HC request by: @centerhabit <3

Outgoing and Shy

Shoto watches you everyday as you say hi to everyone and compliment them being so outgoing

‘She’s never like that around me’ he thinks everytime you skip over him

Shoto just automatically thinks you hate him, which made him sad because he really liked you

You always greeted everyone, even Bakugo who was a grumpy gremlin

But when it came to shoto, you were terrified

It may be because you thought he was a hottie 🥵

No it was because of that.

You didn’t know how to approach him without making a fool of yourself so you avoided him

Shoto one day finally finds you alone one day and corners you

“Y/N” he says in his usual monotone voice, making you jump

Already you were beginning to sweat and become jittery.

“Y-yes?” You say avoiding looking at him.

“Did I do something to make you hate me?” He asks like a sad puppy

His change of voice surprises you making you melt in adoration

“WHAT? N-NO- Me? Hate you? If anything I think you are a hot-“ You stop yourself and blush a deep red mentally kicking yourself

Shoto looks at you confused, “Then why don’t you ever say hey to me?” He asks in a sad voice. \

“UM- ITS- its because- imighthaveacrushonyoubutidontknowhowtotalktoyou” you say quickly.

“Oh, I thought it was because I did something wrong to you without realizing

‘Is this hottie really going to skip over the fact i have a crush on him?’

You stand there mortified because if he doesn’t mention your crush it meant he didn’t feel the same way

As shoto walks away, he stops and says, “I also have a crush on you.”

You stare there with your jaw on the floor “-wait you can’t just say something like that and leave-” and you chase after him wanting answers

Kirishima always saw that you would be in the common area making jokes with others and bullying Mineta.

So, he always would want to join in and joke with you

But every time he joined, you would shut down. Every. Time.

You would just short-circuit like Denki and become unable to talk

He is always confused as to why you stop

So he makes it his mission to find out

He will stay behind when you are in the common rooms or in the class acting uninterested as he listens to your conversations.

He finally overhears Denki ask you, “Y/N, why do you short-circuit whenever Kirishima is near?”

Without seeing if Kirishima was near you answer, “Because I think he is cute... and might have a crush on him”

👉🏼👈🏼🥺 was how you looked when Denki Asks

Kirishima appears and says, “I like you too!”

And with that, you short-circuit and are left babbling like an idiot as Denki laughs and records you

Kirishima chuckles and sits on the couch to wait for you to stop short-circuiting

After a few seconds you come back to it with your eyes closed and say, “woah, I just dreamed that Kiripima likes me back. HA”

“It wasn’t a dream, y/n” Kirishima says trying not to laugh

Your eyes shoot open and blush attempting to form words

“I-“ “I do like you y/n, I want to ask you on a date?”

You blush and nod furiously and Kirishima smiles

The first day of school you walk into the classroom and begin chatting with everyone

You were a huge extrovert always going out of their way to cheer someone up, being friendly with everyone

Well, everyone but Bakugo

You have this huge fat obvious crush on him that everyone but him knows about

You made it obvious the minute you shut up when Bakugo would be near

Everyone was confused at first but when they saw you do it again the second time he was near they figured it out

Bakugo, was oblivious, he also liked you but was confused on why you would not talk when he was near

Tbh if Mina hadn’t locked you in her bedroom with Bakugo, you gladly would have simped for Bakugo from afar

Which leads you to your current dilemma

Mina HAD LOCKED YOU IN A ROOM WITH BAKUGO

Ngl you were admiring his booty✨ as he was attempting to open Mina’s door

N e ways, how did mina even lock you in her room?

“Have you tried unlocking it?” You ask nervously

Bakugo just glares at you, “No, i didn’t think of that” he responds sarcastically

He finally gives up when Mina doesn’t return to unlock it for you

There were 5 times he almost blew up the door

He sits beside you and you just freeze

‘Damn bby boy dont get any closer or i might just combust’

You hope and pray he doesn’t start a conversation-

“Hey, y/n” he says aggressively

‘Damn’ “yeS ?” You ask nervously

“Why don’t you talk to me at all?”

“Uh- wut u mean?” You respond

“Dont think I haven’t notice that you stop talking whenever I am around”

“Pshh, you trippin”

‘Why am I like this😭’

“I am not, its obvious.” He says seriously, “So tell me. Why don’t you talk to me?”

“Fine....I don’t talk to you because....”

Bakugo looks at you which a ‘hurry it up’ expression

“I am a simp for you”

‘Oh god, why did i say that- please ground swallow me up’

“I- what?” He asks confused

“I like you dumbass.” You finally say

“Oh.”

“Oh? Thats all you gotta say? What a dry ass text”

“We aren’t texting ?” He says confusedly, “but anyways, I like you too, dumbass”

You blush a deep red, “COOL BEANS HOMIE” you blurt out

And bakugo is just like 👁👄👁

Two hours later,

“I feel like I’m forgetting something important” Mina tells the rest of the bakusquad as they are eating lunch

“Must not have been important if you forgot” Sero says

Mina shrugs and says “U right.”

MASTERLIST

A/N- SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG! Hopefully I can go back on track and finish these requests by sunday!

[dumbasscorn]

Exothermic : chapter eight

Amalthea vs the End of the First Day 

"Bold of you to assume I would kill my new bestie, Mal! I'm gonna force you to live forever just cause you said that." Previous Chapter 

967 words 

═ ∘♡༉∘ ═

A shrill school bell ringing brought Amalthea out of the trance that sketching the cars outside put her in.

Not even raising her eyes, she could tell Trevor was on his way over to annoy her yet again. He had been passing her notes in every class, trying his best to make the girl smile.

"Mal, 'Son's got practice in 20, wanna watch sweaty dudes kick balls and yell each others last names with me?"

"That sounds amazing and I'd really love to go, but I'd also really rather die." Standing up, Amalthea elbowed a set of ribs as she walked around the tall boy.

Trevor winced and curled into himself, holding his right rib as he pursed his lips. "Fine! You're not getting any of my special cookies when I talk my brothers girlfriend into making more," he dramatically waved his arms around to exaggerate his point, pushing Amalthea out of the classroom door.

"Brother? Damn, I pity the poor soul who had to deal with you as a kid. If you're annoying now I can't imagine what you'd do to get attention then."

Trevor guffawed at the teen and bumped their shoulders as they walked down the hallway, "Dude, can't even try to deny that-- I was annoying as fuck as a kid. My mom called me a gremlin, cause I'd eat sugar and go fuckin' insane."

Thea felt a tug at the left side of her lip, immediately hiding the smirk from Trevor.

"But on a more serious note, I don't really even know my brother. We didn't grow up together at all. We've got different moms and grew up in different towns - I'm here and he grew up on the reservation. You see, I only found out we had the same dad literally a couple months back, and when I went back to pretending he didn't exist, he resorted to bothering the shit out of me."

Thea could not hold back the snort of laughter that passed her lips, "Bothering you?"

"Dude, yes. He shows up at random times and like... watches me. It's weird as fuck. You might've heard people talk about him. They think he's some cult leader who sells steroids or something."

The two teens giggled at the thought of Trevor's estranged brother being a steroid dealer who finds big dudes and decides to think, hm! I want them in my cult that nobody knows about!

Trevor shouldered a short, talkative sophomore out of their way, watching as the boy gawked at the girl next to him. Amalthea heaved a sigh, shoulders drooping in a sluggish manner, "Damn, I forgot I still got to give this paper to that lady in the office. Kill me and I'll forgive you for being a nuisance."

"Bold of you to assume I would kill my new bestie, Mal! I'm gonna force you to live forever just cause you said that." He bopped her on the nose.

"And you plan on doing that how, may I ask?"

"Don't know yet, I'll look into finding a witch or something so she can curse you into being immortal! Or shall I say blessing, since I'd obviously get the curse too. Can't have you being lonely, Mal!" He grinned heavily, eyes shutting as he did so.

Trevor stumbled over a backpack in the middle of the hall, grasping the shoulder of his new friend for support, and spoke again before fully regaining his balance. "Honestly, thank god Mr. Huber made us project partners,. Now I can text you when I know all the deets."

"Well good luck with that. Text me to say dumb shit and I will brutally murder you, Uley."

"Yes, I absolutely one hundred percent believe you'd kill your bestie." Trevor rolled his eyes in a sarcastic manner,

"See you later Mal. I'll tell Jackson you miss him dearly and have your fingers crossed that he'll make the team run laps and suffer!" Trevor smushed Thea's cheeks together with his thumb and pointer finger as he spoke, the teen girl responded by slapping his hand away and rolling her dark eyes at his antics.

"Thank you, dear!" Amalthea waved him away from her, swinging the office door open. Only looking back at Trevor once more to give him the middle finger and turning away when she saw him giggling into his hands, pretending to get flustered.

The young girl handed in the paper that the teachers signed in each class, only after she was forced to introduce herself to the room, to the secretary.

Nodding at the elder woman, Amalthea left out the door and into the drizzling weather.

'Where the fuck is Bella, she better not have ditched me again,' Thea thought angrily, after searching for the awkward brunette and not finding her.

Spotting the ugly truck that Bella sported, Thea made the decision that taking a seat in the vehicle would make sure her cousin didn't strand her.

She thanked herself when she found that the door was still unlocked from this morning.

Bella Swan fumbled her way to the rusty truck, discovering the cousin she found herself ignoring seated on the passengers side.

The girl gave Thea a close lipped smile, uncomfortable at the glare the girl was giving back.

Setting her bag down and starting up the truck, Bella pulled away from the school that reminded her so excruciatingly much of Edward Cullen.

Tearing her venomous eyes away from the pale brunette, Amalthea faced the parking lot and watched as a broad shouldered, tan man scowled as he observed the girls driving off. The ebonette watched amusedly as Trevor walked toward the older man in an agitated state.

'Must be Uley's brother. No wonder people think he's a cult leader on steroids-- could he look any more scary, jesus christ.'

═ ∘♡༉∘ ═

Hi, sorry its been over 2 weeks since I've updated. Yikes! Sorry bout that. My mental health has been not doing good. Hopefully things get better soon and I update more. Spring break is coming up so I'll have a few days to do whatever I want. Gonna try to write a few chapters in that time!

Also, full moon tonight y'all. Love that.

Also (again), I changed the cast list thing. u should check it out 

Tag List: @ivettt @jjpogueprincess @demigodslut​

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please send me an ask or message me! Do the same if you’d like to be removed. :)

master list 

[clearlyshyobservation]

Kokichi is dying (V3 chatfic, no particular ship)

TW: Infers abuse, talks about ableism, neglect, panic attack pretty much, depression, self loathing. never being good enough

i am so sorry but vr au's need to be sad, love yall :)

(Background info: This is set in a vr au, they are not with their fake memory parents (Ie; kaito's kind grandparents) but rather why they really have)

(Also i have no fucking clue what ship i was going for???? pretty sure they are all on the table, and kokichi talks like an idiot in this and i love it. Gonta's writing is based off of his Japanese talking style, so no more caveman talking).

USERNAMES:

(Space monkey: Kaito, Detective pikachu: shuichi, Elton john: kaede, Antman: gonta, Mr. Gonstealyoman: korekiyo, Atua's bitch: angie, emoboi: ryoma, be-boop: kiibo, bread roll: Maki, cum dumpster: miu, mommy: kirumi, Gremlin: Kokichi)

TLDR: Chaos ensues, slight angst

Gremlin: omfg im fucking sicK im gonna fucking die i bet this was kaitos bitch ass fault for coughing on me with his tuberculosis headass gROSSSSS I HATE EVERYTHINGGG

Space Monkey: i-

Space monkey: I didn't get you sick dumbass,,,, my tb is fugckin cured bi-

Bread roll: he's dramatic and gross dont believe him

Gremlin: yall mean for what?

Gremlin: i have a life taking disease and yall laughing i- 

Gremlin: see you at my funeral bitch

Detective pikachu: What are you sick with then

Gremlin: anythong bitch, im the universe

Antman: He sounds delusional, thats not good

Detective pikachu: He's always delusional, he's Kokichi

Mr. gonstealyoman: I guess this name is better than my old one

Mr. gonstealyoman: thank you kokichi :) I am glad we have come to an understanding

Gremlin: kay sexy

Gremlin: IGNRE WHAT I JUST SENT

Gremlin: IGNORE IT IGNORE IT IGNORE ITTTTT

Antman: who was that for???

Gremlin: NO ONE,,, 

Gremlin: Okay,,, maybe sexy tall men in general lowkey

Gremlin: okay,,,, maybe anyone over 6 feet 

Detective pikachu: i feel excluded

Detective pikachu: good, i don't like you kokichi, your an ass

Gremlin: u sound jelly shumaiiiiii

be-boop: perhaps he is telling the truth, you know,

be-boop: according to my data, in chapter four Shuichi stated that you will never have friends, and no one will ever like you

Gremlin: SHUT THE FUCK UP STOP MAKING ME FEEL BADBSKVKHDVKDSKJV

Antman: do you need me to come over? I can make you tea?

mommy: Do you know how to do that, Gonta? I can teach you?

Antman: Gonta does know, thank you very much. 

Antman: Gonta is not a child, Tojo-chan, please don't regard me as one

Antman: Gonta can cook, can clean, can be gentle, and has his own mind

Space monkey: but we're just making sure man, cuz, you know,,,, chapter 4

Antman: I am capable of things just like you!!!!!

Antman: Gonta doesn't know why you guys treat me like a child :(

Gremlin: yeah, hot stuff over there is basically a prodigy homies

Antman: Gonta is dumb though, don't say that.

Antman: Gonta is no prodigy, in fact, he is below average in everything

Gremlin: Whats ur test scores bitch

Antman: Gonta got a 98 on my english test,, but i wanted a 100, which would make Gonta actually smart :( 

Antman: Gonta is not good enough to be friends with you all

Antman: I can do basic stuff like tojo said...

Antman: maybe i do need help?

Antman: im not sure anymore:((((

Gremlin: THEY ARE ABLEIST GONTA,,, THEY FEEL SUPERIOR FOR TREATING UUUUU LIKE A CHILD

Detective pikachu: You sound really delusional Kokichi, maybe you should get sleep

Gremlin: S T F U, IM SPITTING ST8 FACTS BITCH

Detective pikachu: Sure you are. Now get some rest. 

Gremlin: GRRRR WHY WONT YOU LISTEN TO ME YOU IDIOTS??

Bread roll: Cause your stupid and aggressive

Gremlin: your personality, basically?

Bread roll: shut up at least i have a boyfriend

Gremlin: Technically, you just stole my frienemy 

Gremlin: Yall do be avoiding each other doe

Space Monkey: WE ARE NOT

Gremlin: Yeah yeah

Gremlin: yesterday i saw you to enter the same cafe by accident, duck your heads, then sit across the cafe from each other, all while  avoiding eye contact

Gremlin: Soooo,,, things not going well in paradise?

Detective pikachu: you're nosy

Gremlin: says the literal detective 

Space monkey: everythings fine your just a dickkkk

Gremlin: "oooo! Im momo-chan, i say bad word and go brrrrr"

Space monkey: im going to fucking stab him 

Gremlin: You cant, ive already enslaved you with my chaotic, yet cute hijinks, havent i~

Space monkey: STOP STOP NO NOT THE SQUIGLY

Gremlin: is it the sex? WHY DONT YOU MAKE EYE CNOTACT WITH UR LADY NO MORE 

Space monkey: ITS NOT THE SEX I HATE YOU

Gremlin: im free by the way at 8 ;)

Bread roll: STOP trying to steal my boyfriend kokichi, ive told you this before

Bread roll: NO

Bread roll: BODY

Antman: Gonta interrupts to say, Gonta loves you kokichi, and we should get flowers together, than maybe we can prank some people :D 

Bread roll: Ive never wanted to stab you more, gonta

Gremlin: I'd enjoy that very much, fine fellow ;)

Gremlin: but idk,,,, can you like take care of me first, cuz IM SICK BECAUSE OF KAITO TUBERCULOSIS ASS

Space monkey: I DONT HAVE TB ANYMORE

Gremlin: SURE YOU DONT 

Space monkey: I DONT

Gremlin:  BUT GUESS WHAT

Gremlin: YOU STILL SMOKE DUMBASS AND THATS NOT GOOD FOR U OR YOUR TUBERCULOSIS

Detective pikachu: He smokes?

Atua's bitch: he does, i walked in on him in the bathroom lmao

Atua's bitch: he was scared shitless and threw it out the window, needless to say atua does nt approve

Gremlin: DO YOU EVEN HAVE THE VACCINE????

Space monkey: Uh,,, i was taught vaccines were bad, so no i don't have the vaccine

Gremlin: I HATE OLD PEOPLE

Gremlin: ABOLISH OLD PEOPLEEEE

Gremlin: THEY SPREAD MISINFORMATION AND IT PHISCALLY HURTS ME TO SEEEEEE

Space monkey: your dramatic, it cant be that bad

Gremlin: say that when you catch it again

Gremlin: i swear you coughed on me like,,,, 5 weeks ago tho

Antman: OOOO! Fun fact: Tuberculosis can lay dormant from 3 months to a few years! 

Space monkey: u guys are just trying to scare me

Bread roll: Just checked the chat after using the br and,,m YOUDONT HAVE YOU VACCINES???

Detective pikachu: Im sorry, but kaito, please,,,,, for the love of god get vaccines

Space monkey: alright alright, ill do it cuz you guys are all on my case and i don't like being the villain :(

Gremlin: Im so happy i have gonta with me rn, he is making me tea while yall rot in your distant ass relationship (THIS IS FOR YOU KAITO)

Space monkey: Im going to destroy your bloodline in about three seconds if you dont stfu right fucking now

Gremlin: Hhehe i have an inaprwopwiate joke uwu

emoboi: STOP PLEASE DEAR GOD

cum dumpster: wHAt Is iT YOU WHORE

Gremlin: i was gonna say wouldn't he need to like,,,, have sex with my family to weed out my bloodline or something??

cum dumpster: i-

cum dumpster: Why am i acting surprised, ive watched porn with more extravagant plots than this

cum dumpster: ie; are you guys FUCKING? RIGHT INFRONT OF MY SALAD??? is one i will cherish with my soul

emoboi: hehe why did she point out the salad

Space monkey: I hate u kokichi, i truly do

Gremlin: I bet if you got the chance u would kiss me space boy :P

Bread roll has left the chat

Space monkey: o god is she ddoing one of those bf loyalty tests or smthing???

Space monkey: now im nervous lmao

Gremlin: why you so nervous stupid~~~~

Gremlin: It not like ur cheating on her homie

Space monkey: It's just a placebo effect

Gremlin: My brain feels fried Momo-chan,, i don't understand big boy words right now

Space monkey: Basically, if you take a pill that doesn't do anything but you don't know that and believe it does, you will scientifically start to feel better

Gremlin: first and only time saying this, but thank you 

Space monkey: HEHEHEB YOU SAID THANK YOU YOU SAID THANK YOUYOU SAID THANK YOUYOU SAID THANK YOUYOU SAID THANK YOU

Gremlin: Kaito,,, imma need you to do me a favor and look up on your ceiling

Space monkey: i hate you, idk what it is, but i hte you

Gremlin: good <3

Space monkey: HE REPLACED ALL MY THE STARS ON MY CELING WITH FUCKIBG DICKSSS

Space monkey: THIS IS THE LST FUCKING STRAW IM GONNA LOSE IT

Space monkey: IF MY GRANDPARENTS SEE THIS BULLSHIT THEY ARE GOING TO KILL ME, SLAP ME, MAYBE BREAK MY NECK AND DESTROY MEE

Space monkey: Im GENUINLEY panicing HOW TF am i gona get this off my wal???? They are going to bbat me senselpess help me shUichi

Detective pikachu: o god, i can sense the sheer pain and scaredness in  that tet, 

Detective pikachu: are you for real gong to get hurt or are you pulling a kokichi?

Space monkey: FUCKING HELP ME IM NOT FUCKING JOKINGKABKCB HELP THEY ARE NOT HOME RN THEY ARE LIKEE,,,, 40 MINUTES AWAY PLEASEE 

Gremlin: okay,,, maybe this wasn't the best prank.,,, i guess i'll help clean up cuz im not that much of a sociopath

Gremlin: tbh my parents can go shove it too lowkey terrible 0/10 

Space monkey: AHHHH IM SO SCARED PLS PSL GET HERE FAST

be-boop: Of course, i will come, i will survey the outside of the house

Antman: Gonta is coming too! We will get this done in under 40 minutes!

Space monkey: OKAY

Gremlin: Lowkey, if i cough on you ignore it bitch your the one who made me like this

Space monkey: W HA TDONT COUGH ON ME IM NOT SICK ANYMORE

Gremlin: I will give you TB again just cuz your making me suffer

Space monkey: Suffer what??? putting dicks on my FUCKING WALL???

Gremlin: Guilt, idiot, im feeling guilty. 

cum dumpster: oof thats new

emoboi: yeah i wasn't expecting it

Mr.gonstealyoman: Me neither. It is rather peculiar seeing it being texted by him because he is always feels not guilty of his bad actions.

be-boop: I do believe he means it, though...

emoboi: impossible.

cum dumpster: i agree, literally impossible.

Gremlin: I HAVE A FUCKIBG SOUL YOU CRazY CONSPIRACISTS

Antman: Quick question, shuichi can i stay with you again? It'll be dark when i get home and gonta can't do that so,,, please help

Detective pikachu: my parents are like blank slates, who eat slowly, watch tv slowly, and never look at me. Im sure they wouldn't mind :P

Antman: ALRIGHT! :D LETS GET MISSION: MR. MOMOTA ROOM REPAIR DONE!

Gremlin: ooo! I like the name! IM INNNN! 

Detective pikachu: On it!

be-boop: Ready for look out!

Space monkey: I love you guys :)

AN: Im lowkey sorry i ended this chaotic mess with angst,,,, but like fr i love it i love angst,, i hate reading it but love writing it

[hq-lovin]

Yamiguchi trying to confess to his crush but the team always just ends up getting in the way?

karasuno interrupting yamaguchi

hey there! sorry for the wait, thanks for requesting, hope u like it !!

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

➣ pairing : yamaguchi x reader

➣ scenario [1010]

➣ warning : tsukki being awkward, :// other than that none !!

gif | @/volleygifs

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

The sound of your voice travelled through the air and into Yamaguchi’s ears making his heart skip a beat. Peering around the corner, his eyes spot you laughing with Yachi, presumably walking home together at the end of practice.

“Just tell her,” a voice cries out from behind him, unimpressed eyes stare down at him, along with raised brows.

“Tsukki, it’s not that easy,” the shy boy whines, he takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, chewing on it nervously. Tsukishima glances at your figure that was walking away, turning to his best friend, he grabs his collar and pushes Tadashi towards you.

“Woah!” Yamaguchi yells at the sudden gesture landing on his knees right in front of you. Gasping, you quickly offer your hand to help him up while checking if he was alright.

“Are you sure? We have a first aid kit in the gym,” your brows pinch together in worry as Yachi nods along, concerned for her friend. Yamaguchi dusts himself off and feels Tsukishima’s eyes boring into the back of his head.

“I’m o-okay! I’m fine, s-seriously!” He waves his hands, brushing your worries off. Taking a deep breath, his gentle eyes look into yours and he fidgets with his fingers.

“Y/n… c-could I-” He doesn’t get the chance to finish the rest of his sentence when two gremlin boys run at full speed towards him, both yelling at the top of their lungs.

“Tadashi! Let me hit one of your nasty serves again!”

“Ooh! Me too! Me too! I wanna see Yamaguchi’s serves!”

Following close behind, Tanaka runs behind Nishinoya and Hinata, making sure they don’t cause any trouble for anyone else.

“Shut up, will ya! Practice is over dipwads!” He shouts chasing after the two boys who were now pulling at Tadashi’s arms, begging him to practice his jump float serve.

From far away, he could see you walking away with Yachi, giggling at something that she had said. He pouts before letting himself get dragged by the energetic boys.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

The next time it happened was at the beginning of practice. You joined Yachi in her team managing business.

As you approached the gym, the squeals of the boy’s shoes welcomed you. Waving to Kiyoko, you walk in receiving several greetings. Observing around the room, you catch Yamaguchi’s eye and immediately go to say hello.

“Hey, Yamaguchi! We got cut off yesterday, what were you going to say?” Tadashi visibly tenses up as he plays with the volleyball that was in his arms.

“Yeah um.. I w-was just wondering—”

“Tadashi! Stop flirting and get your ass over here!” Coach Ukai yells from across the gym, startling the both of you. You stammer an apology before walking to Yachi and Kiyoko with embarrassment crawling up your spine.

Yamaguchi pouts for the rest of practice, and it didn’t help that you had to leave practice early. Tsukishima notices that his best friend was off today, rolling his eyes. He stares at Tadashi with narrowed eyes.

“Listen, just… go for it,” he states and punches his shoulder awkwardly, making Yamaguchi look up at him with furrowed brows. Tsukishima sighs, knowing he shouldn’t have spent more time with Tanaka during practice.

“Just, go for it,” and with that Tsukishima packs his things and leaves. Tadashi sighs, thinking about Tsukki’s “advice” for a bit, before eventually leaving to catch up with him.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

Hinata’s hand makes contact with the ball, sending it flying with a loud smack! You gripped onto the railing, knuckles turned white, and eyes blown wide open. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch the ball with a careful eye, Karasuno needs to win this match.

Chills ran up your spine as you watched the ball bounce off of Oikawa’s forearms, the ball landed on the Seijoh’s side of the net, ending the game.

From way below, you spot a little green haired boy you might have had a small crush on. Running as fast as you could down the stairs, you yell his name, and leap into his arms.

“You guys did it! You did so good out there!” He holds you tight, burying his head into your neck. You hadn’t realized that tears were streaming down your face until he wiped some away with his thumb. You take a moment to calm down before gazing into his eyes.

“Y/n I-”

“Tadashi- oh, OHH,” turning around, you spot Nishinoya and Tanaka watching you both with knowing looks on their faces.

“Okay okay, we’ll leave you two alone,” Tanaka smiles and winks at Yamaguchi, making him blush and turn his attention back onto you.

“Y/n I… I’ve l-liked you for a-awhile now,” he grabs the hem of his jersey, twisting and pulling it anxiously as he takes a second to collect his thoughts.

“And you’re really c-cool and pretty, so I was th-thinking, do you wanna..maybe go out sometime?” Squeezing his eyes shut, he waits for an answer he knows that’s coming. Your hand reaches forward and cups his cheek, rubbing his cheekbone softly as his eyes slowly flutter open in surprise.

“Of course, I’d love to,” his eyes shot up, and a beaming smile made its way onto his lips, giving you butterflies in your stomach.

“Really?” His mouth agapes, and you laugh at him being adorable. You nod slightly, and he sighs in relief.

“Can I.. um.. Can I kiss you?” He asks, you answer by pulling him close, and gently setting your lips onto his. You stay there for a moment before you hear cheering from behind.

Pulling away, you spin around to see the whole Karasuno team giving you a thumbs up with smiles on their faces. A bright red blush blooms on your cheeks and you hide your face into your hands.

“Get it Tadashi!

“That’s my boy!”

“Honestly it was taking forever.”

“You could at least try to sound happy.”

Sighing, you turn to Yamaguchi and take his hand into yours, before preparing yourself from the abundance of questions you were going to receive.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

[alouispo]

Read chapter one for the tw//. I won't keep repeating them in each chapter cause ya know, its annoying lol. 

I realized that this is a little crappy because i keep writing these in the middle of the night lol

=======

"T-Technob-blade?" Tommy asked timidly. "C-Can I please stay here?" 

Techno looked at Tommy with bewilderment. 'The oh-so-great Tommy Innit is asking me for refuge?' The pig thought sarcastically. He was prepared to start bullying the kid like he usually did, but the look on his younger brother's face said otherwise.

Fear is something that should never be on a child's face.

"P-please Techno!" Tommy said with a hint of desperation lacing his words. "I'll do anything you want for as long as you want, just please let me stay here! I-If Dream finds me he's going to kill me! Or worse he'll punish me for disobeying him-" Tommy's mouth shut immediately. He must have realized that he said too much.  Oh, he definitely fucked up this time, worse than he already had. Jumbled words and stutters came out of his mouth like a waterfall. Tommy desperately tried to cover up the mistake that he made, for the look on Technoblade's face must have been very menacing. 

"What do you mean 'punish' Innit?" The pig stood up, his fist balled and shaking as he narrowed his eyes. Tommy most likely knew the anger wasn't directed at him, but damn he still looked afraid. 

"N-nothing Blade! U-um, don't worry about it alright? It's nothing!" Tommy stood up and backed up against the wall again, a nervous and obviously fake smile on his face. 

"Tommy?" Techno called with softer tones, though his rage still prominent. 

Yes?" Tommy replied, not making eye contact with techno but acknowledging that he was being addressed. 

"You can stay here, all right?" Tommy nodded silently, visible relief filling him as he relaxed slightly. Techno blade stood up and climbed down the ladder, taking his cape down with him.

"Where are you going?" Innit asked, peeking down the ladder to see what big brother was up to. 

"I'm going to go find someone all right? Make sure that you stay here and out of sight. That means don't go near the windows, near the doors, or outside.  Stay inside and upstairs. If you want to go outside when I come back we can go." Techno grabbed some items from the chest's on the main floor and grabbed his Netherite armor and pickaxe. As he headed for the door, he gave Tommy one last good look before walking out and closing the door. This was going to be a bit difficult. 

After a few hours after techno's leave, Tommy doesn't know what to do. Over his time in  exile he became very patient, especially since he needed to be patient in order to keep himself entertained while Dream was gone. This was different though. Tommy was given one thing to do, stay upstairs and hidden; Techno hadn't given him anything else. 

Usually, Innit would entertain himself with tasks to complete around his "exile area". He would do things like build stuff that he would need like storage, gather materials for events or to build more stuff, or plan something fun for him and Dream to do. Dream would visit him every day, and if he didn't visit every day he would have visit every two days. It wasn't hard for him to find things to do in Exile. There he could do whatever he wanted and create as many projects as he wanted. He meant, he didn't have to be under the stress of vice president or L'manburg. 

A part of him is glad that he was exiled. A different part says otherwise. He guessed that made him bipolar.

Tommy got up from his position near the ladder and sat on the bed. He remembered the make shift bed that he had in his tent back over in Logstedshire. Comparing it to Technoblade's bed, tell me realized how uncomfortable his was. Loving how soft the mattress is under his body weight, Tommy decides to lay down under the covers once again. 'Holy shit,' He thinks to himself, burying his face and his big brother's pillow. 

He absolutely loves this bed.

Technoblade wasn't sure whether or not it was a good idea to leave Tommy alone at his base. Of course, Tommy would be able to take care of himself, but it's still didn't take away the uneasy feeling he felt in his gut at the thought of leaving his younger brother alone. He had a reason to be worried anyways. After what just went down right before he left, he wasn't  still too confident in Tommy's ability to be stable just while he was gone for maybe two hours.

Shaking the thought out of his mind, the pig continued his trek through the forest to the left of his house. While he walked, he realized that the voice is weren't being as loud as they usually were. It was more like they were having small talk with each other in the back of his mind, not to disturb him. Did the voices care about Tommy too? Now that he thought about it, Techno didn't hear any of the voices while he was trying to help the little gremlin calm down. 

As he thought of this however, The voices started to pick up their usual banter with him. Of course, he thought. Technoblade rubbed his head and picked up the pace, not wanting to be alone with the voices for any longer. Occasionally though, he would give pause to some of the stuff the voices have said, like, "Trauma Innit" or "Depressed Innit." There's also things like," Protecc baby," "PROTECT AT ALL COSTS", plus the occasional swearing out Dream for a reason he still didn't know about. 

Of course, he wasn’t just going to let this slide. If the voices were  mad at Dream for something, then he knew there was something going on. Something that Tommy didn’t want him to know about. Tommy is the kind of person that would let anyone know anything if they asked, probably for the sake of being a complete and other moron. 

Techno paused in his thoughts for a moment. How would he explain something he barely knew about? How was he going to tell them about this? 

He didn’t have much time to think about it anymore, since he had already arrived near Philza’s house. His messed up but also very sharp eyes scanned the area of Las Ciebas, checking for any people. Since it was the middle of the  night the streets weren’t too packed, only kept with the occasional people who lurked around the stands and having small chat to thier groups scattered around the bridges. Being paranoid like he usually was, the pig splashed a potion of invisibility over himself before taking a deep breath. This might be dificult.

Techno took a running start and jumped onto the roof, gripping onto the ledge with a bit of a loud creak. The strong pig pulled himself up and onto the roof of Phil’s house, standing on it and looking around once again. Trying not to get distracted by the decorations, Techno walked to the other side of the possibly wooden ceiling, jumping off backwards only to grab onto the roof again. He used his momentum to swing himself onto the balcony and into the bedroom.  He see’s Philza sitting on his bed, humming a tune while Ghostbur lightly strumming his guitar. 

“Hey Techno,” Philza noted, looking over to where said pig hybrid was. How the winged bastard knew he was standing there? He had no idea, especially because of the fact he was invisible. Sometimes this man was such a wonder.

“Hey Phil,” he replied, the invisibility starting to wear off. “Glad to see you and Ghostbur were actually waiting here. Would have been a pain if one of you was here and the other was not,” the anarchist added, sitting on the floor a bit away from the balcony to avoid being seen by supposedly innocent bystanders.  

“Of course we would have been here Techno!” the ghost started, puffing his guitar out of existence and rubbing friends ears, who had been sleeping next him. “There wasn’t any reason I wouldn’t come since I am a ghost and it’s almost the spooookkyyy houurrr! And for Phil, well, he is under house arrest so he wouldn’t have anything better to do anyways!” Philza laughed at the sentence, putting down the craft he was making. 

“Why did you wanna speak to us anyways Techno? It isn’t really like you to whisper the both of us just to hang out,” Phil pointed out, looking at the piglin with his back turned slightly. His wings fluttered as he studied the pigs expression, concern becoming more and more apparent as the time went on with no answer.

“It’s about Tommy,” he came  out suddenly with an exasperated sigh. 

“Tommy? I thought everyone in New L’manburg said he was dead?” Phil murmered, crossing his arms and looking out at the moon. “Did you find something?” he asked, looking at Techno once again. 

Techno sighed in response, rubbing his face at the realization of how he was going to explain this hit him like a truck. “Yes, actually,” the pig started, rubbing his temples. 

“It seems like something happened between him and Dream, but something maybe worse than we are thinking?” the antartic emperor nodded in response while Ghost petted Friend in silence, most likely thinking over all the information that has been told. 

“I tried asking Tommy about it, but he won’t tell me anything. He started freaking out when I actually did ask him saying that it was fine and nothing to worry about.” Techno wasn’t sure what the other two of SBI were thinking, due to their silence and also him being shit at expression reading. 

“Alright then, we’re going to see Tommy, and we’re going to find out what happened with him and Dream.” 

[kavitari]

here’s my piece for the @six-gifts-exchanges thingy!!!! its for @bookishbea and the prompt was a chatfic/social media fic so i wrote the queens in a group chat :) i hope you like it !!!! not really sure if it ocunts as a fic but .....

Ex-Wives

all women are queens (Catherine of Aragon)

bouncy hair (Katherine Howard)

bouncy skirt (Anne Boleyn)

gold star (Catherine Parr)

if she breathes she’s a thot (Anna of Cleves)

Jane (Jane Seymour)

26/03/2020

16:43

all women are queens: guys i lost anne

Jane: How did you lose Anne?

Jane: Also who are you?

all women are queens: catherine

Jane: That doesn’t actually narrow it down all too much.

all women are queens: of aragon

Jane: Okay, thank you!

17:18

gold star: Wait Anne’s missing????

bouncy hair: anne,,, my bouncy brethren,,, what is a hair without a skirt,,,

19:22

if she breathes she’s a thot: so annes just straight up Missing huh

bouncy skirt: oh no where is she

bouncy skirt: oh wait

bouncy skirt: im anne

bouncy skirt: dw guys im in the washing machine

bouncy hair: boucny brethren !!!!!!!

gold star: boucny

all women are queens: boucny

if she breathes she’s a thot: buocny

bouncy skirt: BUOCNY

bouncy skirt has changed if she breathes she’s a thot’s nickname to buocny

buocny has changed bouncy skirt’s nickname to washing machine gremlin

bouncy hair: i am the only bouncy left :(

bouncy hair has changed bouncy hair’s nickname to final bounce

washing machine gremlin: IT'S THE FINAL BOUNCE BOUNCE

buocny: DO DO DO DOO

all women are queens: DO DO DO DO DO

Jane: What?

gold star: Jane you ruined it. Are You Happy Now?

27/03/2020

16:14

buocny: guys I just woke uup what’s goin on

buocny: whys catherine on the floor

buocny: and who let jane in the kitchen

buocny: yall know full well she cant cook

buocny: oh look she burnt the toast. what a surprise.

19:23

buocny: yallre just ignoring me huh

buocny: fine then

buocny has changed all women are queens’s nickname to catherine

buocny has changed washing machine gremlin’s nickname to catherine

buocny has changed Jane’s nickname to catherine

buocny has changed buocny’s nickname to catherine

catherine has changed final bounce’s nickname to catherine

catherine has changed gold star’s nickname to Catherine

20:03

catherine: hey how come cathy gets a capital letter ????

catherine: idk screw you

catherine: this,,, is so confusing

catherine: i hate this

Catherine: I also hate this.

Catherine has changed catherine’s nickname to brat

Catherine has changed catherine’s nickname to jane

Catherine has changed catherine’s nickname to anna

Catherine has changed catherine’s nickname to kitty

Catherine has changed Catherine’s nickname to cathy

jane has changed jane’s nickname to Jane

Jane has changed brat’s nickname to anne

Jane: Capital letters are important, everyone! And Cathy, there’s no need to be mean to Anne!

Kitty: boo hiss

anne: no they're ugly

cathy: there are multiple reasons to be mean to anne

kitty: yeah jane think about the Aesthetic

cathy: she ate  my breadm, for one

anne: aesthetic or die

anne: yeah thats fair

catherine: i hate thiis family

anne: thiis

catherine: go to hell

catherine has changed catherine’s nickname to the Best™

catherine has changed anne’s nickname to munchkin

munchkin: jokes on you i like this nickname

the Best™: i can’t win can i

kitty: nope

28/03/2020

02:46

anna: you guys suck

anna: petition for cathy tot ake away name changing priveliges

munchkin: absolutely not

munchkin: also its privileges

munchkin: learn to spell anna

anna: i hate u

munchkin has changed anna’s name to uneducated rug

uneducated rug: really?

munchkin: shut up i’m tired it was the best i could do

uneducated rug: hey yo anne ever heard of this little thing called sleep?? ive heard its magical

uneducated rug: cathy doenst recommend it though

uneducated rug: doenst

uneducated rug: dammit im alone again arent i?

05:42

kitty: camels b like : humps

09:02

munchkin: kitty love what the [redacted] does that mean

cathy: did you really type out [redacted]? 

munchkin: yes no swearing around the baby

cathy: what baby?

munchkin: you. you’re the baby.

munchkin has changed cathy’s nickname to baby

baby has changed munchkin’s nickname to [redacted]

[redacted]: gasp

Chaos Crew

bde (Anna of Cleves)

squishy (Katherine Howard)

tiny gremlin (Anne Boleyn)

28/03/2020

11:22

squishy: sometimes i forget anne is big brain

squishy: and then i find nine pages of detailed prank strategy plans, in both french and enlgihs, and i Remember

bde: enlgihs

squishy: hush

squishy has changed tiny gremlin’s nickname to big brain

big brain: incorrect

big brain: also why did i read that to the tune of big fun

bde: heathers big fun????????????????????????

squishy: THE HOUSE IS OUUUUUURS

big brain: what other big funs are there?

bde: shut up ANNE we arent all big brain ANNE

squishy: ...

squishy: ITS TIME FOR BIG FUN

bde: BIG FUN

big brain: my sexuality is The Heathers

squishy: jsuhsdkga mood

bde: ditto honestly

11:53

bde: wait anne can i

bde: see all these prank plans????

squishy: she took them and hid them :(

squishy: v detailed though

squishy: she had a whole page on what works best without going too far

squishy: Big Brain

bde: b i g brain

squishy: B  I  G

Ex-Wives

[redacted] (Anne Boleyn)

baby (Catherine Parr)

Jane (Jane Seymour)

kitty (Katherine Howard)

the Best™ (Catherine of Aragon)

uneducated rug (Anna of Cleves)

28/03/2020

14:17

[redacted]: i owuld like to take offnesc to cahetrube;s nicmnake

uneducated rug: owuld 

uneducated rug: offnesc 

uneducated rug: cahetrube;s

uneducated rug: nicmnake

[redacted]: >:(

uneducated rug has changed kitty’s nickname to cahetrube;s with a k

the Best™: literally what could you find wrong in my nickname

the Best™: it’s just one (1) fact?

[redacted]: you fool

[redacted]: you Foole

[redacted]: no it isnt

[redacted]: kittys the best

the Best™: i will concede to joint bestness with the small one

uneducated rug: small one ????

the Best™: not you

uneducated rug: oh come on

uneducated rug: the One time being the shortest is good

uneducated rug: and yall pull this???

uneducated rug: annaphobia

[redacted]: sucks to be you i guess

uneducated rug: shut up :(

cahetrube;s with a k: is this was hell is like

the Best™: being in a gc with anne? yes actually

[redacted]: and you know that how exactly

[redacted]: cathbkuegesk what are you not telling us

uneducated rug: anne spell catherine properly challnege

[redacted]: challnege

cahetrube;s with a k: cathbkuegesk sent me

the Best™: this is the bad place

the Best™: kitty come help me make pancakes and sob into the mixture with me

the Best™: we can watch bad romcoms and eat all the ice cream too

cahetrube;s with a k: okay !!!!!!!!!!!!!

[redacted]: can i come?

the Best™: no u suck

[redacted]: :(

the Best™: you make a compelling argument

the Best™: okay fine

the Best™: but hurry up and get down here

the Best™: these pancakes wont make themselves

[magioftheseas]

Hiyoko & Yasuke

Summary: Saionji Hiyoko’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. Yep. They’re different enough from canon, I swear.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language...? Hiyoko’s still definitely a bitch. Matsuda is, too.

Notes: This was a prize for correctly guessing the reference in Chapter 4 of the main fic! Since Hiyoko deserves more appreciation, I cross-posted it to here. Her and Matsuda predictably bicker and don’t get along that well, all things considered, but they have an enjoyable banter and a surprisingly interesting relationship. Since I probably won’t be able to portray it to its fullest in the main fic, I was pretty okay with writing up this. It was pretty difficult tho so FTEs for the entire cast is looking like a far-off dream lol. If there’s interest in certain characters (and/or a request I accepted/a thing I was commissioned), then ehhhhh maybe more to come. Maybe.

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

By all accounts, this is a shitty fucking idea but...

“One! Two! One! Two! Left! Right! Left!” A giggle. An intake of breath. And then, she wails. “Waaaaah! Some fucking creep keeps staring at meeeee!”

“I’m just astounded you’re still not bored with squishing thoraxes,” Matsuda muttered, already questioning every single choice he could’ve made that would lead to being in this situation. “Do you have a vendetta against drones or what?”

But I guess it’s better than stomping crabs.

Saionji snorted.

“And now the weirdo creep is asking me strange questions. And in such a droning voice! I hate it!”

“Sorry, my baby talk is pretty rusty. But if you’re that whiny, would you be pacified with a candy?”

“If it’s lemon I don’t want it!” Saionji exclaimed, looking absolutely affronted.

“...”

Matsuda pulled out a lollipop.

“Orange, then?”

“Give it! I’ll never forgive you if you don’t!”

“Alright.”

Somehow, with that little exchange, a devil’s contract had been formed.

FTE#1

“Mm, mm.” Sickening smacks of the lips, and Matsuda really was wondering how things turned out like this. Saionji looked pretty content, at least. “Hey, hey, Matsuda-nii. You wanna know what I think about you?”

“I can’t imagine it’s positive,” he replied. “Even if you weren’t a yappy bitch desecrating our serene cultural beauty, I get the feeling you would still think I’m kind of a dick.”

“Mm...” Just like that, Saionji’s wide, watery eyes filled with tears. And she begin to sniffle. And she wails yet again, “I ABSOLUTELY WOULD THINK THAAAAAT! MATSUDA-NII’S SUCH A JEEEEEERK!!! A P-PERVERTED...SHIT-SPEWING...COMPLETE ASSHOLE!!!”

“At least most of what you say is true and everyone knows it.” With a roll of his eyes, he dropped a crumpled up handkerchief into her lap. “So shut the hell up. Do you have any fucking pride at all? Pathetic.”

“U-Uu. The worst. The absolute worst. You even gave me such a shitty fucking rag.” Irritated, she still fiddled with it. “Did anyone even teach you how to fold?! Oh.”

She quiets when she sees that there’s a candy tucked inside. It’s wrapped up cutely in pink and orange polka dots. Her face pinches up so much so she looks constipated. All the same, she finishes up her lollipop so that she can unwrap this new candy and pop it into her mouth. Bitterly, she seems to like it a lot.

Not that Matsuda is really looking at her anymore.

“You really are a pervert, thinking you can pacify me with that.”

“I forgot about it,” he said, shrugging. “But think what you want. I’m not interested in the line of correcting stupid, stubborn brats.”

She hiccuped, sniffling and blowing her nose on his handkerchief.

“I-If you were really sorry, you’d get me the sweet I really like.”

What makes you think I’d fucking care? And anyway...

“You mean those gummies you always eat?” Matsuda asked,  Just pick them up at the damn supermarket. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

“THAT’S NOT IIIIIIT!!!” Saionji shook her head furiously. “Dummy! Stupid! Perv! That’s just ordinary candy I happen to like! What I really like is special!”

“Shut the heeeeeell up,” Matsuda snapped. “If you want me to figure shit out, don’t be so fucking vague about it. Haven’t you ever been to a doctor before? Shouldn’t you know this?”

“U-Urgh.” Grumbling, she wiped irritably at her eyes, glaring back at him darkly. “What I really like is special, sweet, small, and shaped like a star!”

“Oh.” Matsuda inhaled, nodding in understanding. “Confeito.”

She nodded back.

“Well.” Matsuda rubbed at the nape of his neck. “I dunno what to tell you, then. They don’t have that shit at the supermarket.”

Just like that, Saionji’s face turned to stone.

“And even if they did, like hell I’d share any with such a bratty, yappy troll.” Matsuda frowned. “Do you really think that with a face like that, and if you cry, that you can just get people to do whatever you want? You’re not even a kid, you’re the same fucking age as me.”

Saionji bit her lip.

“Still, I guess confeito’s at least good taste,” he sighed, shrugging. “Small yet intricately designed, sparkling like the stars they’re based off of. They’re works of art, along with flower candies along with the kind of aesthetic treats enjoyed at a tea ceremony. Personally, I’m a big fan of Mont Blanc, too.”

“Too sweet,” Saionji muttered darkly. “Foreign sweets are way too disgustingly sweet. They’re uncultured.”

Matsuda gave her an unimpressed look.

“Even castella?”

“M-Mmgh.” Saionji fidgeted, seething as she did. “Castella is...it’s... It’s fine, but...”

“Buuuuut? What?” Matsuda’s brow furrowed. “What’s got you so bitter?”

Saionji got to her feet, eyes brimming with tears again, and she shoved him down none too gently. He grunted as he landed harshly onto his back.

“Big! Stupid! Jerk!”

He only barely managed to avoid her stomping feet and just as he glared, she had already rushed off, leaving him in her proverbial dust.

And what the actual fuck was that about?

He sputtered a bit.

Seriously what the hell?

Sighing, he shook her head. He wasn’t in the mood for chasing her, especially considering the shit she’d scream at him if he did, so for now, he’ll just leave her be.

FTE#2

Unsurprisingly, the next time he saw her, she turned away in a childish huff. Since he had time to think about it, even though he hadn’t really wanted to, he can figure that she was probably pissed about...being called out on her shit.

Predictable.

He would’ve just given her time to sort that nonsense out on her own, but Saionji kept sneaking angry glances. Kept sneering. Kept turning away with a childish huff.

Oh for fuck’s sake. What a goddamn nuisance.

So, in the end, he approached her first after all.

“Yo.”

“Gross.”

“I’m not going to apologize,” he snapped, unaffected by her look of contemptuous disgust, even as he retained his usual scowl. “So if you’re trying to guilt me, it’s not going to fucking work. Just. Letting you know.”

Saionji bristled, but then, she sighed heavily.

“Of cooooourse not. I’ve known that from the start that fake tears weren’t going to do shit on someone like you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re awful. Super cold. The kind of person I hate super much even if it’s not the most.”

“Were those tears really fake?” he asked, unimpressed. “If you knew that it wouldn’t work, you wouldn’t have reacted so strongly.”

“Shut up.” Her expression would’ve terrified a weakling like that mechanic guy but Matsuda just met her glare coldly. “A filthy, shit-spewing asshole like you should just keep his trap shut.”

He shook his head, tilting it with a twisting frown.

“And you can’t even be bothered to say please? You’re about traditional dancing, right? Where’s your fucking formality?”

Saionji reddened with anger. With a stomp of her foot, she huffed and then, with trembling shoulders, she mumbled, “You really are someone I super hate very much.”

He waved his hand.

“Then, there’s really nothing more to say,” he said, and he turned on his heel. “I’ll get out of your sight then, brat.”

“Y-You really don’t feel bad or guilty at all?!” she sputtered. “Where’s your heart?!”

“Bedside manner is reserved for patients, and I don’t have the patience for someone like you,” Matsuda snapped.

“W-Wah...” Shuddering, Saionji’s breath hitched as her fists balled. “T-The worst. The worst. I hate you so much!”

Urgh.

“I don’t really hate you,” he said. “But I can’t exactly say I like you, either. Then again, with the way you act?”

His head was throbbing, which was even more irritated. It was only worse when Saionji wailed and wailed.

Urgh. Urgh. Why do I...?

“Will you shut up, you bitch? Shut up!”

Unsurprisingly, she just got louder.

“Shut up!”

And louder.

“Shut...!”

And louder.

“Saionji, for fuck’s sake!”

Saionji’s mouth shut, but she was glowering darkly and viciously. Chin tucked, with eyes hooded yet bright with fury.

“Call me that again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

And now she’s actually threatening me?! Is this the same gremlin or is it now the other one? But more than that...

“You don’t want me to call you by your name?” A pause. “Your family name? What? Is your family that bad? Well, the rotten apple doesn’t fall far from...”

He ends up trailing off as she scoffed, lips trembling, eyes glimmering.

I’m treading into sensitive territory, here.

“Just don’t use it,” Saionji snapped. “It’s an awful wretched name and I hate it more than I hate you.”

Matsuda opened his mouth to say something, but for once, he thought better about it and kept his trap shut.

...your family name, huh...

Saionji ended up being the one who turned on her heel and stomped away. Matsuda watched her, feeling a weird twist in his gut. Guilt, maybe? Gross.

I might’ve gone too far after all. Shit.

FTE#3

“Yooo.”

“Grooooss.”

Saionji sneered as he shuffled his hand into his pocket. Grumbling lowly, he ended up pulling out a bag of sweet buns and very nearly flings it into her face. Saionji’s expression shifts to unreadable, but she immediately opens the bag. Her beady eyes are expectant as she takes a bun and bites down into it.

“I actually should apologize for before,” Matsuda muttered, averting his gaze. “Family matters can be delicate, I guess.”

That said.

“I’m not really going to pry into said family matters, mind you. That’s really none of my business. So it’s whatever. Just take what you will from it.”

“Mm. Mmf.” Saionji chewed and swallowed, blinking at him a few times with those childishly wide eyes. “You really are suuuuuper fucking pitiful, huh? You have no grace in apologizing at all!”

Matsuda grumbled.

It’s whatever. Whatever. Just what the hell am I trying to accomplish, again? Fuck.

“Yep!” Saionji giggled. “You act all high and mighty but you’re just one of many unimportant losers under me! So you should just accept your place as a slave and don’t bitch so much!”

Matsuda blinked. And he held up his hand.

“You’re about thirty-eight centimeters too short and about a hundred years too young to make those kinds of demands.” He rubs at his nape. “Still. Sorry about earlier.”

“I don’t forgive you,” she chirped. “Not until you grovel.”

“I’m not that sorry.”

“Awww! Then what good are you even for?”

“Do you even remember what my talent is?”

“Nope! Why should I?”

Matsuda rolled his eyes.

Playing around with a spoiled brat really isn’t a worthwhile use of my time. I should just leave.

“You’re a doctor, right?”

Just as he had turned on his heel, the words gave him pause. Saionji’s tone was high and cheerful, but lowered in pitch when she clicked her tongue over the syllables of doctor.

“If you’re a doctor, then you should stay by my side.” Another click of her tongue, followed up by a giggle. “Don’t you know? Anyone with the surname Saionji is cursed to die.”

If he hadn’t been drawn in before, he was definitely curious now.

“Bloodlines are always targeted by organizations and are often subjected to assassinations,” she went on, waving a bun around as though it were a fan before stuffing it into her mouth. She had some manners to chew and swallow, touching her lips before finally going on, “Since I’m head of the family, I’m a target, too. I’ll get pins in my shoes, dead mice on my bed, food poisoned, and stage lights dropped on me. I’m in a lot of danger, Matsuda-nii. That’s why you have to protect me.”

“That’s w̴̡̫͆̃͗̓̃h̴̞̤͂͒̊͋̕ỷ̷̛̻̓̿̽̀...”

A sudden striking pain in his temple, and Matsuda was immediately snapped out of the moment. Grumbling, he rubs at his temple, and he grimaces at Saionji’s innocently blinking eyes.

“That sounds like you need a guard, not a doctor,” he huffed. “If that’s what you’re so concerned about, why not indoctrinate one of those two meatheads or something? Well, I can’t speak for their observational skills, but...”

“But nothing!” Saionji shrieked. “Those two are sooooooo boring! Owari’s so gullible that she’ll believe anything I say! What’s the fun in that?!”

“There’s also that I’m a specialized doctor,” Matsuda added, exasperated. “As not fun as it would be to turn up with pins in your feet, that’s not my field. I wouldn’t be assigned to work on that. Pins in your skull, on the other hand...”

Saionji’s cheek puffed until they looked rosier than cherries.

“If general health issues are a concern, then go for the healthcare committee chick,” he said. “Tsumiki Mikan, was it?”

“Mmgh.” Just like that, she went from pouting to splitting with a smirk. “She is really fun to mess with.” Just like that, her smile quickly dropped. “You, on the other hand, aren’t much fun at all. Just when you were showing potential, too.”

Potential?

“You really are hung up on your manipulative act, huh,” he mused. “What’s even the point of that? You clearly aren’t that good at it. You’re way too easy.”

“What was that?” she asked, gaze hooded.

“Playing dumb isn’t going to help, either,” Matsuda said, gaze drifting to the side. “You’re too obvious. Despite some shallow similarities, you’re actually nothing like...”

He stops. He blinks. Once. Twice.

Just...what was I in the middle of saying?

His head hurt. It really hurt. It was as if all his thoughts came crashing down in a heavy heap that dig into his head deep enough to pierce nerves. It really fucking hurt.

“Matsuda-nii?”

Saionji sounds as confused as she does frustrated.

“I... I-I need to go.” His mouth felt dry, head and heart pounding, thoughts in shrieking, shattered remains. “Right. Away.”

“Hey, what the hell, Matsuda-nii?!” When he took off running, Saionji yelled after him. “H-HEY, MATSUDA-NII!!!”

He could hear her, but it was detached and distant, as if she didn’t even occupy the same plane.

FTE#4

The next time their paths had intersect, Saionji was, as per usual, pretty pissed right off the bat. But this time, her glare bore into him intensely, almost searchingly, like there was something she needed to see and yet nothing yielded. She was frustrated. Still confused. About what had happened.

Which was fair, Matsuda had no idea what the fuck he was on about earlier either. Truth be told, he barely remembered it because he downed so many pills afterwards that he passed out. As it stands, he’s just grateful he didn’t get his idiot ass seriously sick. He’s still a little drowsy and out of it, but keeping his body active should work wonders.

He should avoid anything that aggravates whatever that was, which would include Saionji. But. Even if that’d be good in the short term, he had a bad fucking feeling about the long term.

And so here they were. Matsuda lowkey wanted her to stomp on his foot and storm off because this intense, glaring silence wasn’t doing anyone any favors. His head doesn’t hurt, but he’s tired.

So. So fucking tired.

“...you don’t know what happened either, huh.”

Finally Saionji does speak, shuffling so that her hanging sleeves press together at the ends, hiding her curling fists.

“You know...” She stomps her foot. On just the dirt. “You really started acting so freaky and weird! It was scary! You should’ve showed up with sweets to make up for it, Matsuda-nii! Why didn’t you?!”

“Urgh.” Glumly, he digs through his pocket and pulls out another wrapped candy. He then unwraps it and pops it into his mouth, making Saionji shriek. He only shrugs. “I haven’t really been in the mood to give away snacks that I can just eat myself. Sorry. I guess.”

“You pig! Your perv! Y-You pig perv! You’re the worst!” Saionji sobs. “J-Just the WOOOOOORST!”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Matsuda swallows down the candy. It itches his throat a little. “So. Now that we’ve come to an understanding, we can just not bother with each other anymore.”

Saionji sniffled into her sleeves, shoulders hitching.

“I still don’t have any interest in catering to you,” he went on. “And I’m...”

Just so...so tired.

But he’s alert enough to avoid, Saionji trying to stomp on his foot for real. However she does latch her sticky fingers onto his coat.

“You owe me! You’re not going to just tap out, you jackass! Meanie! Jerkface!” She blows her nose on his coat, to his recoil of absolute disgust. “I-I... I demand compensation for emotional turmoil! Five bags of sweet buns! E-Every day...for a week!”

Matsuda’s response was to none too gently wrench her off of him from the back of her kimono. She wailed, and he doubted that it hurt that much. All the same, she only shut up when Matsuda muffled her sobbing with his handkerchief, pinching her nose until she blew on that.

“A lab coat is shit for doing anything about mucus, you fucking idiot,” he hissed. “And that many sweets will rot your teeth! Just how unreasonable are you? Not everyone signs up for brat sitting, so are you really that spoiled? Or are you just stupid?”

Saionji hiccuped but smacked his hand away despite keeping his handkerchief for herself as she continued blowing into it.

“I swear.” Matsuda grimaced at the stains on his coat, wiping it off with the spare handkerchief he carried around with little success. “If you wanted to keep hanging around for some unfathomable reason, you can just converse like a normal person. Like about manga or something?”

“M-Manga is...for gross pervs.” Saionji’s trembling like a leaf. “I-It’s for gross, disgusting, pedophiliac pervs!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“N-Novels are way better!” she wails. “L-Like The Madness...of Nakazu!”

He does perk at that. Sucking in his breath, Matsuda threw his head back.

“I Am A Cat isn’t a bad read,” he mumbled. “It’s probably my favorite of Souseki-san’s.”

Saionji nodded furiously.

“Right, r-right!” She sneezed, hiccuping and rubbing at her eyes. “What a miserable, wretched time period! How sad for Souseki-san to be surrounded by...by awful, wretched, stuffy pigs!”

Your behavior isn’t much better than those ‘stuffy pigs’.

Matsuda sighed.

“Although isn’t it disrespectful to disregard an entire medium because of a few undesirables? There are works that put emphasis on long-standing cultural ideas and aesthetics.”

“There are too many works that don’t!” Saionji exclaimed, heated to the point that her grip on the handkerchief was white as bone. “They stress other super undesirable ideas and aesthetics! And they pander to such a low brow! There are ideas that far more deserve to be retold and retained in the public conscious! And with such an influx of shit, those ideas are getting muted and muffled, overturned and overwhelmed by what’s nothing more than trash...!”

“Hhh... I can’t argue with all of that, but don’t rip anything.” Matsuda waved his hand. “I’m too tired to argue period. So just tell me about Madness of Nakazu instead, you stupid brat in a kimono.”

“Gladly! It’s about a father who...for his daughter’s sake...”

And such was how he spent his free time. He still had to wash his coat afterwards, which wasn’t great.

FTE#5

“Matsuda-nii, you seem like the kind of person who falls asleep in the middle of performances.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be a wrong assessment.”

“You really have no class at all!” Saionji laughed and there was a cruel edge to it. “Aren’t you ashamed?”

“Not particularly.” He shrugged. “Performances like that are sometimes meant to evoke a sense of serenity, so I still appreciate them even if I fall asleep. The effect that visual arts have on the brain isn’t one that can be understated.”

“Oh, right, you’re a brain-obsessed brainiac.” Another cruel, childish laugh. “That’s so weird.”

“Understanding this is how we put to words the effect and significance of the emotional reactions the arts evoke. It also shows just how deep our biologically-ingrained empathy runs,” he rambles on, not giving her much thought. “For example it is believed that we map the movements and actions of others onto our own somatosensory system. When a dancer leaps, the audience soars. Adrenaline pumps in response to the sight of death-defying acrobatics and stunts. That kind of thing.”

Saionji fidgets, frown twisting.

“That’s nothing exclusive to traditional dancing, though,” she pointed out. “It completely ignores the importance of how in order to set my audience at ease, I must first be relaxed to my fingertips!”

“Yeah.” Matsuda blinks, rubbing at his eye. “There is that.”

“Traditional dancing isn’t just about showcasing beauty! It’s about evoking the feeling of that beauty!” Saionji exclaimed. “It’s about making everyone feel the same love for that beauty that I feel! Which is far more important than just the clinical explanation of it!”

Matsuda hmphed, brow furrowing.

“Similar to your passion for the dancing, my passions lie in those clinical explanations,” he snapped. “It’s rude as hell to dismiss them, especially when they’re the foundation keeping your performance afloat. Even if you moved beautifully, if people were incapable of that empathy, the necessary stimulation required for that appreciation would be unreachable.”

Saionji seemed pretty unimpressed with that.

“I shouldn’t have to hear this from someone who just falls asleep!”

“I don’t always fall asleep,” Matsuda griped. “I wouldn’t fall asleep during your performances, for instance.”

Because I do have a sense of self-preservation.

“If you do, I’ll publically humiliate you and post it online,” Saionji seethed.

“I definitely wouldn’t. I’ll make sure I’ll stay awake if it’s you.”

“...”

Saionji bit her lip, playing with her sleeves for a bit.

“Y’know... Daddy used to say the same thing, but he was way nicer about it.”

Hmm?

“I thought you didn’t like your family?”

“Daddy married into it, so he’s fine.” Her frown deepened. “But my family name really is important, as my hag grandmother used to say.”

Maybe she’s the disliked family, then.

Matsuda decided not to push the topic.

That’s not my place to barge in on. Family matters can be delicate.

But he remembered, vaguely, The Madness of Nakazu, about a father who went crazy in order to protect his daughter. How they lived happily ever after, and how real life wasn’t always that simple.

“I don’t like your tone,” Saionji said, apropos of nothing and ironically making it easier on him. “But, y’know, I don’t always hate the things you say.”

And how am I supposed to respond to that?

“Alright.”

Brilliance.

“You really are super uber pitiful though, Matsuda-nii,” Saionji said, eyes wide. “But that’s alright. Once you accept your place under me, I’ll definitely protect you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t!” she laughed again. “Like hell I would!”

“Yeah. I’m not surprised.”

But, y’know... I think I have a pretty good picture of your character.

“If you do fall asleep in the middle of my performance,” Saionji said, lowly and seriously. “I’ll never, ever forgive you.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

All things considered, I guess we’ve gotten to know each other reasonably well. I don’t see us getting all that close for obvious reasons. This bitch is still a major pain in the ass and ears with her shrill whining, but...

“Promise you won’t! Swear on your life!”

“I won’t.”

She’s not the worst person and weirdly enough, dealing with her is nostalgic, almost bittersweet.

But if I think too deeply on that, it’ll definitely hurt.

[violetsmoak]

no safety or surprise [1/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18035168/chapters/42616919

( See First Chapter for full Disclaimers & Warnings)

Summary: A haunting broadcast reveals the Joker’s final act and sets off a chain of events that will destroy the world. Terry finds himself collaborating once more with the estranged members of Bruce’s former team. As the end nears, however, he and the other Bats are faced with hard choices about survival—and forgiveness.

Rating: T (may change depending on the amount of graphic/details I decide on)

________________________________________________________________

chapter one: the calm before the storm

Neo-Gotham, Friday, June 13, 2042 9:04 AM

MCGINNIS

Siblings, Terry thinks as he scowls down at the little gremlin on the couch, are highly overrated.

At some point, while he was getting ready for school, Matt snuck into his room and stole his comforter. The twip is now wrapped up like a giant burrito, watching television and pretending he doesn’t see Terry’s irritated expression.

“Don’t you have your own?” he grumbles. “You’re going to get your sick germs all over it.”

“You can just wash it later.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I think it’s cute,” Mom interrupts, stopping the fight in its tracks the way she always does. She doesn’t look up from her phone, thumb flying through a text. “And you used to do the same thing, by the way.”

Terry blinks. “I did not.”

“You did. With mine and your father’s bedspread. That, and homemade soup? Always made you feel better when you were sick.”

Which, okay, Terry can sort of remember that.

There was something safe about being wrapped in blankets that smelled like Dad’s aftershave and having Mom spoil him with food made just for him. A pang of sadness hits him, leeching away from his irritation; Matt was never able to do that. Their parents divorced rather soon after he was born, and Dad wasn’t around Matt much afterward, let alone when he was sick.

Since Warren McGinnis’ death, Terry is the only adult male presence his brother has in his life.

And I’ve done a pretty crap job of that so far.

He’s always so busy, working for Mr. Wayne on and off the books. The criminal element in Gotham makes it practically impossible to maintain connections outside the life.

It’s ironic that Batman is better at being a role-model for Matt than Terry is.

The fight drains out of him, and he gives a put-upon sigh. “Fine. He can have it. But if I get sick, I’m going to hang him over the balcony by his feet." He turns away, but knows Matt is sticking his tongue out at the back of his head; it’s what he’d do at that age. “So, what’s the verdict? Staying? Going?”

Whatever Matt has, their mother seems to be coming down with as well. She’s been debating all morning about whether she intends to go into work or not. Terry’s stuck around, in case she does decide to go, and he has to watch Matt; he can Livestream his classes, she can’t exactly do the same for her job.

“I don’t know,” Mom says, frowning at the screen. “Jarvis and Riley are out today too apparently.”

Terry whistles; he’s happy he hasn’t caught whatever’s going around. It’s still the cold part of June, around the time when the temperatures fluctuate between mild and freeze-your-nuts off. Mom always tells him how when she was a young girl, the weather already started warming up in May, but because of global warming summer doesn’t really arrive until July.

So now, June is the summer flu season.

Point being, I could still catch it. And won’t that be fun.

Because Batman doesn’t get sick days, and Terry knows from experience that having a cold while wearing the cowl is probably the most disgusting feeling ever. And that includes wading through sewage and cleaning rotten food out of the refrigerator.

While Mom continues to debate with herself, he fires off texts to Dana and Max, asking them to cover anything he misses for the first period, in case he’s late. There are about ten seconds before he gets a response from Max.

‘No problem. Is it work? Or work?’

Before he can respond, Dana’s text comes in. ’everything OK w/ mr wayne?’

And he can’t help a smile at that, because he doesn’t have to make up any kind of lie or excuse, because they both know. He’s still getting used to the fact that Dana knows, and that she understands. And wants to help.

It’s more than he ever thought he’d get when he started this whole thing.

‘Wayne OK far as I know,’ Terry texts them both back, mentally crossing his fingers that he isn’t jinxing anything. ‘Mom & Matt not feeling great. Keeping an eye on them a bit.’

‘aw, sux. tell them feel better from me. dnt worry, got u covered! <3’

There’s a minute or so before Max responds.

‘Too bad. Nasty flu this year, huh? Not feeling great either, but test period 2, so…’

Terry’s eyes widen. ‘Wait. What test?’

‘LOL.’

‘Srsly, what test?!?!’

There’s no answer, and Terry frowns down at his phone, trying to decide if Max is messing with him or not. He’s about to double-check with Dana when his mother speaks.

“I think I will stay home,” she decides, rubbing her cheekbones. “My face hurts. I really hope it’s not another sinus infection. That’s all I need on top of everything.”

“Hey, take it easy,” Terry tells her with a comforting smile. “It’s been a while since you had the day off. Besides, the world’s not going to shut down because one astronomer doesn’t come into work.”

“You say that now,” Mom says dryly. “If an asteroid is hurtling toward the earth and it’s my job to spot it, you’re going to feel pretty foolish.”

“Nah, never happen.” He grabs his bag and starts for the door, stopping to press a kiss to the top of his mother’s head. “With Superman out there? And the Justice League? Pretty good job security, I’d say.”

“Lame,” Matt grumbles from his blanket cocoon. “Batman can take them all. He probably has a special rocket to shoot stuff down.”

And, okay, maybe Terry might rethink his stance on siblings, because damn if those words don’t make him grin.

Matt notices and frowns at him. “Why are you smiling at me like a creeper?”

And, there goes that good feeling.

“Trying to decide whether to take a pic and send to your friends and show them how pathetic you are right now. You’re like a human-larva hybrid. It’s gross.”

“Yeah, well—well, you’re adopted!”

That’s his latest insult to everyone when he can’t think of anything else to say.

“Matt!”

“At least I was planned,” Terry retorts.

It takes a moment before the penny drops, and his brother’s overly pale face goes red. “Moooooom!”

“Terry, leave your brother alone, he’s sick,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes.

“What’s his excuse for the rest of the time?”

“Go to school, hon.”

Matt smirks at him, and returns his attention to the television, flipping through cartoons. Terry rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything about favoritism, because it always comes back to how he’s an adult now and should know better than to stoop to the level of a ten-year-old. 

I can win a fight against the deadliest member of the Society of Assassins, but not this. Go figure.

“Will Mr. Wayne need you today?” Mom asks as he puts on his jacket. He knows she’s wondering if he’ll be able to come home and relieve her from Matt-duty at some point, which he totally understands.

“We’ll see. I’ll probably drive out to check on him tonight, but I think I can get home after school if you need a break.”

“That would be appreciated.”

“Do you want me to bring you guys anything while I’m out—?”

There is a sudden, sharp drop in pitch throughout the entire house. Terry’s ears pop a little, the same way they do whenever Shriek mutes the sound in the surrounding area, but somehow his hearing simply becomes sharper now.

Before Terry can wonder if it’s a sign the sound-terrorist is back out on the street, the living room is filled with music. A jaunty, haunting carnival tune that instantly has the hair on the back of Terry’s neck raising.

His gaze whips to the television screen, which is flickering between static and a blank screen with the words HA HA HA flashes across it in red.

His mouth goes dry.

________________________________________________________________  

WAYNE

Bruce is starting to wonder if a Lazarus Pit might not have been a better idea than the liver transplant. Of the methods for artificially prolonging life, at least with the Pit, he would eventually start to feel like he was recovering.

After the madness subsided, at least.

On days like today—when it’s damp and chilly, and there’s nothing going on in Gotham to keep him glued to the computer screen in the Cave—it’s hard to remember the arguments he’s always made against using the restorative powers of a Lazarus Pit. His body protests with every movement as he eases it through several slowed kata variations. Part of his physical therapy, as suggested by his doctors.

Since his procedure, he feels the exhaustion much more keenly. It’s bone-deep fatigue that seeps into every muscle, emphasizing the way his bones creak and grind against each other, cartilage worn away from age and decades of abuse. It’s the way his energy levels drain so much faster now, to the extent that even his usual ability to will himself into action seems to wane every day.

Not that he really had a choice in the matter. He was in end-stage liver failure, and the nearest Pit is in New Cuba. He’d just been lucky that there was a suitable donor in the hospital at the right time.

‘Luck’ is one word for it. ‘Cruel irony’ might be a better phrase.

Douglas Tan is one of the names he’s going to carry on his conscience for the rest of his life; or, at least on his liver.

Terry still makes jokes about Batman having a piece of a Joker inside him, but then Terry tends to use humor to cover up when he’s worried. Dick always did that, too; and Jason.

Bruce scowls, bothered by the direction of his thoughts, as well as the raggedness to his breath. He isn’t even moving very fast, but it’s taking him every bit of strength to keep at it.

Ace is curled up in his usual spot in the cave, watching Bruce with what seems to be narrowed eyes. As if to say, don’t overdo it or I will knock you over.

The dog is smarter than most people.

Ace is one of the reasons the doctors were willing to leave him to pursue recovery on his own and not under some beady-eyed nurse in the hospital. Money isn’t as much an incentive as it once was, with so many legal and health standards in the way; the older he gets, the less likely people are to trust his ability to make decisions, lawyers or not.

He tolerated a private nurse for about a day while having Terry make other arrangements and manufacturing a piece of paper saying Ace was a certified service dog. He’s not, but Bruce has no doubt the dog would activate the medical alert button at the computer if something were to happen. And Terry has an alarm set up, keyed into the surveillance and motion sensors in the Cave. If anything were to happen, he can be here faster than any ambulance.

Old age has fed into long-buried fears, and it gives him an embarrassing sense of relief knowing there’s someone to look in on him. It has always bothered him, being dependent—being weak.

Some days he’s more accepting of it; some days he wishes he had Kryptonian DNA.

Which is usually the point at which he forces himself to occupy his mind with other things because envying Kal-El can only lead down a dark, frustrating path of self-pity. One he’s determinedly avoided ever since meeting the other man.

After another fifteen minutes of forcing himself to think about nothing but the movement of his limbs, Bruce finally finishes his exercises. Sweat coats his back and his muscles ache with the same burn as if he just spent several hours grappling through the Gotham skyline. Even if it took fewer challenging movements to reach this point, that burn is comforting.

Familiar.

And that’s a word that’s been cropping up more in his thoughts lately. History tends to repeat, after all, but it’s still strange to experience. Terry’s been an excellent example of that.

Like Bruce, the McGinnis boy started out with nothing but a suit and an old man’s voice in his ear. Now, he’s got a network. Friends who he trusts and who will keep his secret. A steadily growing list of allies in the field.

The Police Commissioner. The Justice League.

And a Catwoman too, for Christ sakes.

He wonders what Selina would think about that.

Bruce just hopes the kid won’t make his mistakes. Forty years is a long time to rack up regrets.

At least Dick’s back in contact now.

Sort of.

He showed up the second night that Bruce was recovering from his procedure at the hospital; he’d managed to convince Terry to go out on patrol instead of wasting his time watching an old man sleep.

“Batman doesn’t get a day off.”

Bruce had dozed for a bit, but not deeply; it wasn’t difficult to discern that he wasn’t alone. 

One minute the room was empty and in the next, Bruce could feel that familiar presence—the one of a man who had carried the mantles of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman—and somehow lived to tell the tale. Then his estranged son was stepping out of the shadows, glaring down at him, muscles in his jaw working and fists clenching and unclenching.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Bruce had croaked, wishing he had thought to ask for ice chips before the nurse left. “I’m too stubborn to die.”

The silence hanging afterward was filled with everything he couldn’t say yet. For once, Dick didn’t call him on it.

“You’re more stubborn than God,” his boy countered.

(He’ll always be a boy to Bruce, grey hair and eye-patch be damned.)

And yet, Dick sat, arms crossed and spine stiff for the rest of the night. Still angry, but present nonetheless. He stayed until morning rounds without saying anything and then left.

They haven’t seen each other since, but sometimes Bruce can hear feedback on the comms when he’s directing Terry’s patrols. The tinny whisper of signals crossing from the bug he pretends he doesn’t know Dick planted on the underside of his medical ID tag.

It’s not much, but it’s something. The opening of the possibility that at some point, he’ll come around.

Barbara did, after all.

Mostly because of Terry, but afterward Bruce started making the effort. They can have conversations alone now that don’t end with her yelling at him (or punching him, on one or two memorable occasions). Bruce forgot how much he enjoyed her sense of humor and intelligence—how much he enjoyed their friendship—from before they slept together.

(That might be one of his life’s biggest shames. Oh, he has regrets associated with all of the family for one thing or another, but this is the one that still wakes him up at night feeling dirty.)

In a way, it’s easier with Tim, and that’s a bridge Bruce thought had been obliterated long ago.

Granted, he’s leaving Gotham again—the last incident with the Joker army rattled him enough that he put in for a transfer to the Beijing division of Wayne Enterprises—but he stuck around long enough to collaborate with Bruce on a subdermal antitoxin deployment implant against Joker venom.

(None of them want to be caught unawares again.)

It’s in the prototype phase, with only five of the devices in existence; he, Tim and Terry are testing them personally. It’s not exactly something the FDA is going to approve for human testing anytime soon, not with all the new legislation, but with the state of Gotham, it’s unwise to wait on it.

(He sent one to Barbara and one to Dick but doesn’t know if they’ve bothered to activate them. At least they haven’t sent them back.)

If the implant works, Bruce is seriously considering modifying the tech for the Wayne Enterprises medical division. There are a lot of illnesses and viruses out there which require regular dosages of medicine to keep them under control. The difficulty is finding funding and ensuring the board of the directors doesn’t jump on the chance to charge exorbitant amounts of money for the technology. The whole point of the tech is to help anyone who needs it, not just the filthy rich.

Maybe that’s the next project, after CAIN, he muses, grabbing his towel from where he draped it over one of the computer processors.

His global Clean Air Initiative Network is something he’d been working on before stepping back from the company. It was shelved almost immediately by Derek Powers when he took over, but since Bruce has been back, he’s been revisiting a lot of old projects.

Lucius’ boy did most of the technical work on it, and Foxtecha will have joint ownership of the patent when it’s ready for public consumption. Bruce would have asked Tim, but he knows how determined his estranged son is to get out of Gotham. He can read it in the tone of his emails, which have thankfully lost the stilted, formal business tone they’ve had since he returned to the company.

(Bruce mentioned paying a visit in the future, and Tim didn’t say no, so he counts that as a win.)

It’s a little disconcerting how the family is coming together again; disconcerting but welcome.

He’s received a vid call last week from Cassandra expressing concern over his surgery, and then a short, gruff email from Duke all-but ordering him to get better. There’s even a letter from Stephanie—or Eurus, as she goes by these days—smelling of dust and desert sun and incense found only in Nanda Parbat. Her messy, looping scrawl, echoed Dick’s sentiment about Bruce’s stubbornness and alluded to its genetic inheritability.

(That said more than if she had mentioned Damian outright; his youngest son has remained stubbornly silent.)

Bruce lost track of her not long after Damian’s short and brutal stint under the cowl; it had surprised him to find out she ended up in Tibet.

It also relieved him. Because no matter how dark a path his son wandered, at least there would be someone to challenge him. To not obey without question. To give him a link to the life he once had, to being human and alive.

(Bruce very carefully doesn’t think about Jason—doesn’t wonder if things had been different if he wouldn’t have reached out as well. Even after so many years, that wound is still raw.)

The whole thing is a stark difference from the last few times he ended up in the hospital, including when he was dosed on Joker venom several months ago. He didn’t hear anything from them at that point, which makes him think someone really thought he was dying this time and reached out.

Barbara, maybe. Or Dick. However much tension there is between himself and Bruce, he does keep in touch with the others. Hell, it might even have been Terry. The kid doesn’t know the rest of them personally, but he’s gotten adept at navigating the computer in the cave.

And he’s always been curious about his predecessors.

Bruce’s first family.

Or maybe just the first phase of the family.

Bruce shies away from that secret bit of knowledge he has about Terry, and his brother Matt. What he discovered the first time the kid returned to the Cave with bloody gashes that needed stitching up. The files and medical information buried beneath every firewall he could fashion, so the latest Batman can never stumble upon it accidentally.

The most Bruce has allowed himself to acknowledge it is an amendment in his will setting aside trust funds for both boys.

As if triggered by his thoughts, the screen of the Bat-Computer flickers to life. He rolls his shoulders, expecting an alert on some heist or robbery going on in the city; another case to add to the docket for Terry to investigate after school (depending on the severity).

Bruce doesn’t expect the Cave to suddenly fill with a jaunty, haunting carnival tune that makes his entire body seize in recognition. And yet, he already knows what’s coming even before the words HA HA HA coalesce upon the screen. 

“Hell-O World! It’s your favorite rascal…”

________________________________________________________________  

GORDON

There are times when Barbara misses being a vigilante, if only because there was a lot less paperwork involved. Questionable legality aside, there was always a simplicity to the whole endeavor: track down the bad guy, entrap-and-or-beat said bad guy into submission, and then drop them off at the GCPD.

Now that she’s the one behind the desk, though, she has a lot more appreciation for the work her father did. She wonders how he never developed an aneurysm or stress-related heart condition due to the grief Batman (and the rest of them) caused the department.

She has barely sat down in her office, but there’s an influx of emails flooding her inbox. She scans through the first few—requests from someone in IA sniffing around some of her open cases on the barest hint that she’s allowing Batman to help, reminders about upcoming social functions she would rather skip, two officers that have to be brought up on disciplinary charges—and sighs. It’s just the first two dozen.

Today is going to be a triple espresso kind of day, I can tell, she decides, rolling her shoulders and tilting her neck from side to side.

Another message chimes as it comes in.

Crime Alley and Tricorner are requesting more plainclothes officers in the area, ostensibly to deal with an upswing in crime over the past twenty-four hours.

Barbara frowns at this—it must be significant if those particular precincts are reaching out, they usually hate working with Central. Then again, everyone’s been jumpy about security since the Jokerz almost destroyed Gotham.

They’re still finding bodies from that one. She’s got three of her officers’ families grieving without any closure.

Barbara goes back over incident reports from the last few hours, noting a rise in attacks on the homeless, property damage and extreme road-rage (twenty-six separate incidents of that, which is a new daily extreme for her). From the initial investigations into each of the unrelated events—all in different areas of the city—there doesn’t seem to be any motivating factor or link.

What the hell is going on?

A crime spike isn’t ordinary for June; they usually start around now and then play out over the course of weeks.

Not hours. Have any of our usual players been released from custody lately? There’ve been no outbreaks or escapes that I know of.

If there is someone out there stirring things up, she hopes to God it’s just someone like Walter Shrieve. Arrogant and brilliant offenders she can deal with; they’re always so eager to prove themselves the best, and it always leads to their downfall. It’s the criminally insane ones that keep her up for days on end trying to restore some semblance of sanity to a city that’s never going to get any better. Even worse is a combination of the two.

Uneasy, she fires off a message to her counterparts in New York and Toronto, to see if they’re seeing similar phenomena in their jurisdictions. She hopes this is nothing, but she’s getting a hunch. And her hunches never lead her to anything that could be remotely called good.

“Get me Commissioner Sawyer over at MPD,” she tells the computer. She and Maggie go way back, and the other woman doesn’t pull that intercity rivalry crap when it comes to sharing important information.

“Yeah, the dregs are coming out of the woodwork here, too,” Maggie tells her after they exchange the requisite pleasantries. Her voice is carefully measured in a way that tells Barbara she’s not having a good day, either. “We had a damn flash mob that caused an A-trak derailment this morning. I have no idea how there weren’t more casualties, but…”

“Where’s Superman when you need him, right? I’d heard he was back in play.”

According to Bruce and Terry, anyhow.

“If he is, he must be off-world or something, because I doubt he’d be sitting on his ass at a time like this. What about on your end?”

“Well, we’re not exactly beyond the powers of the GCPD right now,” Barbara replies, a little smugly. “No need to take the Bat-signal out of storage.”

Yet, the unwelcome voice in her head echoes.

“Oh-ho, aren’t we getting confident in our old age?” Maggie sneers, but there’s no real malice to it. “For all our sakes, I hope it stays that way. But I’ve got a hunch...”

“Yeah,” Barbara sighs, her stomach dropping. “Me too.”

It’s not a good sign when both she and her opposite number in Metropolis are on the same wavelength.

As Maggie hangs up, three more incident reports pop up on the side of her screen. Skirmishing at Gotham General—that’s all they need now. If things are just warming up, it’s looking like another long day.

Sam’s not going to like it…

Barbara dials in the number herself this time on her personal line. There’s a trill and the viewscreen pops up to show her husband in his office at the DA, scowling down at a tablet. His expression clears when he sees her.

“Didn’t I just see you this morning?” he jokes. “Or were you that keen to see me again?”

“Always,” Barbara tells him, softer than she speaks to anyone else. “But I’m actually calling to apologize. It’s going to be a day, and I don’t know if I’ll get home for supper.”

“It must be bad since you just got there.”

“Things have been hairy all night,” she admits. “I’ve got incident reports multiplying as we speak. You’d think with the bug going around people would be staying home to recuperate, but it looks like they think it’s an excuse to break the law.”

“Well, it’s Gotham. After all this time, it’s not a surprise.”

“It’s really, really not.”

“I know I’d rather be home in bed,” Sam says, and normally a comment like that would have innuendo behind it. This time it’s all too earnest. He rubs his face tiredly. “I think I’m coming down with it too, to be honest.”

“If you give it to me, you’re sleeping on the couch for the next week,” Barbara informs him automatically. “I can’t afford to miss any work for the next…forever.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, hon. The minute they see you blink in this business, you’re dead in the water.” Sam grimaces and rolls his shoulders, and Barbara experiences a tinge of concern because he does look pale.

“Maybe you should go home,” she suggests. “You can work on your cases at home, can’t you?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’m due in court at ten o’clock.”

“If you’re dead from the flu, do you know how many criminals are going to walk free?” she demands, only a little bit joking.

He chuckles. “Come on, Babs, you know no one’s died of the flu in twenty years.”

Barbara has a witty retort on her tongue, but it stalls when Sam’s image freezes in front of her. It seems at first to be a lag, but then the screen morphs from his office to what looks like a brick wall.

She feels an icy cold slice through her, the same one she always gets when anything is associated with him. It’s the echo of a bullet, tearing through her internal organs and spine, and the hair-raising chill.

Barbara doesn’t really read the words, too focused on the high, cold cackle in the that somehow blocks out every other sound. 

________________________________________________________________

DRAKE

For the first time in a long time, Tim is happy.

His house is a gutted mess of boxes and detritus, but unlike in his younger years, it’s not because some supervillain has come crashing in to threaten him. He smiles, a little whimsical, at the date on the holographic calendar, and the word that hovers there: Moving.

In a week, he and Arlene will be in Beijing, and forever free of Gotham City.

They made the decision together in the weeks following the Jokerz attack, after Tim escaped the Cave the last time. He made it clear to Bruce and his new apprentice that it was the last time.

He doesn’t mind continuing to work for Wayne Enterprises—hell, he helped build that company, he takes a certain amount of pride and responsibility for it—but he won’t be doing that from Gotham. There’s too much history here, too much…everything. Apparently living on the outskirts or even in the same state (even on the same continent) isn’t enough for Tim to completely escape the lingering, nightmarish legacy of Batman.

Of Robin.

He wants normal. And after everything he’s been through, he more than deserves it.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to tell your dad, he’ll be happy to hear that,” Arlene says, chatting with their daughter Janet on the vidphone across the kitchen. In the den, the low sounds of the television provide background noise.

“—the level of unrest breaking out in the world’s major cities, has politicians asking, ‘is this another Yellow Vest Movement?’—"

“Honey, Janet says she and Maeve will be coming to help with the move after all.”

“You mean coming to eat pizza and beer,” Tim replies with a smile; they’ve already hired movers.

“Semantics,” he hears his youngest daughter laugh. “Either way we’ll be there.”

“Always happy to see you, kiddo.”

“Now, I’ve got to let you go,” Arlene says. “I have a nine-thirty conference call with Peking U., but I’ll speak to you later on.”

She has a follow-up interview for a position in the Linguistics Department there. It’s a step down from her current professorship at Gotham University, where she was on the tenure track, but when Tim pointed this out, she insisted his mental health was more important than her job prospects.

He tells himself he gave in so easily because after so many years of marriage it’s futile to argue with her. He tries not to acknowledge the total relief that he didn’t have to argue with her about it.

“Yeah, no problem Mom. Talk to you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too!”

The video feed of their daughter winks out.

“Do you need me to get out of your hair?” Tim asks.

“No, I’ll take the call up in the office,” his wife replies and presses a kiss to his temple as she passes. Then she pauses, turns around and grabs the coffee pot to bring with her. “And I’m cutting you off. Any more of this and you’re not sleeping tonight.”

Tim sighs. “It’s like you know me or something.”

“And don’t forget it, mister!”

He listens carefully to the sound of his wife retreating up the stairs and over the landing, and then reaches for the microwave, where he surreptitiously stashed an extra cup earlier that morning.

And swears when he finds it missing; a quick glance to the sink sees it already washed out.

Damn it, she does know me.

But the thought is more fond than irritated.

Arlene is the only sure thing in his life, especially after his trauma. They met through Kate Kane—or rather, because of Kate Kane. The two women attended West Point at the same time, and Arlene acted as a character witness for Kate prior to the dishonorable discharge. Though Arlene graduated from the Academy, she did not spend much time on active duty before she was injured by a roadside bomb and lost her leg. Afterward, while dealing with her own PTSD, she pursued an academic career. She and Kate lost touch, and it wasn’t until the media released news of Kate’s murder that she heard of her again.

Arlene attended the funeral, which is where Tim met her for the first time. Two weeks later, they met in a support group for trauma survivors and started getting coffee together. It took Tim a year to figure out she was flirting with him (which Jason never stopped teasing him about, even when he was on his deathbed). After everything with Stephanie, and then with Jason, Arlene offered a safety none of his other partners ever had.

There’s a high-pitched trill from his cellphone, and he glances down to read the text from Cass.

‘ayt? need yr flight info. to pick u up from airport next wk. :) :) :)’

His sister still prefers to text over talking by phone, even all these years later, which he’s pleased about. So much these days is done with face-to-face screens or even holographic technology; he wasn’t really a people person before, but it’s getting rarer and rarer to have any kind of privacy. Texting—especially across the encrypted server he’s set up—is a relief.

Tim relays the details to her, along with the implied greetings from his wife, and expects that to be it. But then he gets another text.

‘question? 4 work.’

Tim tenses.

Cassandra Cain works as a retired ballerina who opened her own school of dance; it’s highly unlikely the work-related question has anything to do with that. It’s probably for Black Bat.

But he cautiously texts back, ‘As long as it’s just a question.’

He’s had to re-learn to establish boundaries.

‘fair. u worked cybersecurity. ever hear of Morningstar. hacker/agency???’

Tim frowns, thinks back, and shakes his head even though she can’t see it. ‘No. Never dealt with anything like that.’

Ok! 3Q. worth a shot. will c u & arlene on thurs. 520GG!’

‘88MM’

He waits a few minutes, but there are no more messages forthcoming, and then sends out the last message—‘88MM’, before putting his phone away.

Unlike everyone else from his vigilante days, Cass knows how to not push.

And yet…

She rarely asks him about anything that might involve her after-hours work, both out of familial courtesy and because her operation is, at least unofficially, supported by the Chinese government. Legally, there’s not a lot she can involve him in; when she does, it’s only where she has absolutely no other recourse and it involves paperwork and non-disclosure agreements.

Only twice has she asked him something in an off-hand way, which he knew instinctively had to do with Black Bat but pretended not to realise. The last time, his information helped her locate and dismantle a eugenicist breeding program using homeless girls.

Perhaps that’s why he finds himself reaching for his laptop and looking into anything to do with Cass’s mysterious ‘Morningstar’.

The word generates a broad spectrum of results, even when he searches through the Dark Web. Nothing to do with drugs, nothing related to human trafficking or weapons—nothing that wouldn’t immediately stand out to Cass in her own searches. He narrows search parameters, skating through encryptions and IP trails and layers and layers of disturbing data—

Within ten minutes he comes across the exact word in connection with a burgeoning hacktivist group known as DevilNight, but no indications as to what it refers to. It’s odd, considering the group has only existed for a short while and has hardly done anything worthy of attention. It makes no sense that something like this would be on Cass’s radar, especially considering based on his tracking, the group is based in Idaho.

He has just started to peel back the layers of the group’s security when his computer screen freezes. A beat later, words begin to type on his screen, and the blood drains from his cheeks.

H E L L O  J U N I O R

Even as the words register, Tim is already shoving himself backward, away from the screen. His hand slaps against the spot in his neck where Joker’s microchip was implanted—the spot where he injected Bruce’s anti-venom deployment system. It’s a reassurance, a reminder, he will be safe—

Horror suffuses him as another message typed out in front of him:

D O N ’T  B E  A  N A U G H T Y  B O Y

Bile rises in his throat and Tim feels the world spin. Instantly, he is back in that horrible room, hysterical laughter in his ears and a falsely cheerful melody playing in the background.

He has to fight himself back under control, checking his surroundings, going over simple facts about himself in his head—

Not Junior not Junior not Junior—

My name is Timothy Jackson Drake. Drake-Wayne.

He is still that, even if he never uses the name anymore. He never got around to changing it, never had the courage to.

My parents were Jack and Janet Drake. Mom died when I was a boy, Dad remarried. Dana. But they died—

Kidnapped, poisoned, murdered, went insane—

No, he’s getting off track. Facts, he needs facts about himself, to ground him, to remind him of who he is and not what he has lived through.

I work as a communications director and do contract work for Wayne Enterprises. I have two daughters—Kate and Janet. Kate is a veterinarian; Janet is a stockbroker. She married Maeve last year. Kate is pregnant with our first grandchild. Arlene and I go to Florida every winter…

At long last, he gets himself under control again, can separate himself from the specter of Junior.

He expects the laughter and the inner echoes of carnival music to fade away.

Instead, it becomes louder and more distinct.

Tim stares at his screen in horror as the message vanishes, the words replaced with something even more sinister.

HA HA HA.

No.

Not again.

He can’t do this again.

________________________________________________________________  

GRAYSON

Dick only ever feels his age in the mornings.

There’s just something about his body waking up after a long sleep, before his training kicks in to ignore the aches and pains, that can’t fight off the heaviness as fast anymore. Every day it’s more painful putting himself through the usual routine of exercises to keep himself in shape. 

Thankfully, he’s still outwardly put-together enough to hide it.

He smiles ruefully at his reflection in the bathroom mirror—more of a grimace, really—and studies the patchwork of old scars and not-so-old bruises across his chest.

He knows he doesn’t look his age. It’s not even due to cosmetic surgery or organ replacements or even the personal holograph projections that have gotten popular in the last decade. Longevity just happens to run in his family; John Grayson’s father was still pulling triple somersaults at eighty and Mary Lloyd’s grandmother lived to be a hundred and thirteen.

The only thing artificial in his body are metal plates and pins that replaced bones fractured beyond natural healing, and the biotech keeping the bullet in his spine from moving. (And the antitoxin implant Bruce sent him; because no feud is worth getting dosed with Joker venom, whether the bastard is dead or not.)

Not bad for fifty-nine, he decides and heads for the kitchen.

There’s a moan from his bedroom, and he pauses briefly as he passes to consider the woman lying in his bed in nothing but his bedsheets. In her sleep, she curls to one side, causing the sheet to slip a little and reveal bruises in the shape of his fingers across her hip. He can feel the matching set on his own back.

Definitely not bad for fifty-nine.

For a moment he debates the merits of returning to bed and continuing where they left off last night, but that would be against one of the unspoken rules they established when they started sleeping together.

The other is that they don’t use real names.

He doesn’t know or want to know hers—after a lifetime of failed relationships and broken hearts he knows better than to get attached. And though he’s aware she knows his—the world knows his name since that fiasco with the wannabe Hush—she never uses it. If she must, she calls him Wing, and it’s a clear reminder that she has no intention of crossing any boundaries to let things become personal.

He has no problem with that; he calls her Black.

He’ll never call her Cat because that’s what Bruce called Selina Kyle. Associating this Catwoman with the original just feels a little too oedipal to Dick.

(Selina never really gave off motherly vibes, but she was the most constant presence of all Bruce’s paramours, so she sort of ended up in that role by association).

The original Catwoman was the only one Bruce could never completely push away—though that might say more about Selina’s stubbornness than the old man trying to keep hold of the people in his life. She decided when they were in a relationship, or out of one, whatever Bruce wanted.

In the end, even that wasn’t enough though. Her heart was never as strong after the incident with the real Hush.

Dick remembers attending the funeral. Bruce didn’t show up at the service or the burial. It was a few years into his self-imposed exile, right after Damian’s departure, and soon after Steph and Cass. He obviously hadn’t wanted to face any of them (maybe couldn’t face them).

But there was a crack in the headstone the next time Dick brought flowers (an imprint of a fist he would know anywhere) and he knows Bruce blamed himself for that too.

Dick heads to the kitchen, grabbing a coffee for himself. He debates for a moment, leaving one out for Black, but if the usual pattern holds, she’ll be jumping out his bedroom window soon without even coming into the kitchen. She’s not exactly one for goodbyes. Instead, he leans on the counter and pulls out his mobile, scrolling through the day's news stories.

Call him old fashioned, but he prefers to read the news than watch the featureless blue talking heads on the television. He spends about a minute skimming a beat piece on the successful launch of Wayne Enterprises' latest environmental initiative. Tim was telling him something about that the other day; it was the most animated and relaxed Dick had seen him since that night with the Jokerz.

“It’s basically like a planetary rebreather,” his estranged brother enthused. “You know how trees take in carbon dioxide and release oxygen? It’s sort of like that, but on a larger scale. Once it's all set up, any toxins pumped into the atmosphere will get filtered out and converted to oxygen.”

Tim had then gone on a lengthy explanation about the technical details that Dick had no chance of following, but given how enthused he’d seemed, it hadn’t mattered.

He’s going to miss him, now that he’s headed off to Beijing, but Cass is ecstatic. As far as Dick knows, they haven’t seen each other in ten years. It almost makes him want to head over and join the reunion.

Except that would be counterproductive to his current plans.

Dick is in Gotham on the pretense of opening a second athletics course, but really, it’s to keep an eye on things.

He doesn’t trust Bruce not to screw up whatever he’s doing with this new kid, and the boy’s too green to notice the signs of losing himself to Bruce’s mission. When the old man cuts him off—and it’s when, not if, because Bruce will inevitably screw this up—the McGinnis kid is going to need someone to keep his head above water.

Dick’s only been around him a handful of times, but there’s a cockiness and attitude there that reminds him of Jason. That’s concerning enough on its own, but what really makes the hair on the back of Dick’s neck stand up is the sense he has of this kid’s potential to do damage. He’s seen that, before, too, along with the results.

Christ, the kid even looks like Damian. If I didn’t know Bruce so well, I’d think…

He shakes off the thought because it’s too disturbing to contemplate.

The point is, Terry McGinnis needs someone looking out for him, even if he doesn’t realize it. Bruce isn’t going to do it and Barbara has clearly forgotten a hell of a lot of history since she’s allowing the boy to fly around her city risking his life.

So it’s up to Dick.

Again.

I’m way too old to be getting another brother, he thinks darkly, in what once might have been genuine humor but now feels just exhausting. Especially considering his track record with the others.

He doesn’t even know where Duke ended up.

Something flickers on the edge of his eyesight, and he turns to look out the window of his apartment. Across the street, the giant vid-screen advertising the latest energy drink blinks and goes briefly blank. Along with every other screen as far as the eye can see.

Dick narrows his eyes, taking a step forward to study the phenomena, and then freezes as his quiet apartment is invaded by obscenely cheerful music and a laugh he wishes he could forget.

Every screen for miles spells it out, and he knows immediately that things are about to get worse.

________________________________________________________________

⁂

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn't something you're comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels

Next Chapter

[captainshyguy]

for the ask meme, dimentio ! (u knew this was gonna happen)

hhhhh thank u…bless u

favorite thing about them:

ok i cant choose so im listing a few hfdjhnkdfjhdfh like not to be basic but i REALLY love how he manipulates the WHOLE story and the characters and comes out o be the actual bigger bad it’s still my favourite plot twist in ANYTHING EVER and like????? speaking if i sill love how he’s just the ONE villain in mario games who has?? zero redeeming traits, zero ability to feel love or empathy or compassion like he’s just! vile and that would be REALLY boring in more serious franchises, like star wars or marvel but!! because it’s in mario it makes his character feel so fresh to me, like this one guy whos just absolutely awful and the biggest threat they’ve faced and is the only one who (kinda) actually killed the main cast he just rly helps fuel my edgy hcs for the other characters rly?? plus!! he’s theatrical and thats rly fun and has BANGING theme songs so

least favorite thing about them:

i mean i’d say what he does to luigi but that helps me project on luigi and find comfort in thinking about luigi getting support from friends and moving on so???

honestly probably whenever he refers to princess peach as ravishing like ‘sHUT UP U CREEP 🔪🔪🔪’ 

favorite line:

‘And so i strike, like an unseen dodgeball in an echoing gymnasium!!’ 

brOTP:

dimentio x me beating his ass with the ultimate show blaring in the background (like GOD what a final boss)

OTP:

dimentio x being condemned to the underwhere for eternity for his crimes

nOTP:

literally ANY genuine romantic ship with him (ESPECIALLY him with mr l/luigi or mimi :/ bc they’re the ones i see the most smh ) 

random headcanon:

well with the information we’re give about him and the past/worldbuilding in general, i definitely think he’s the son of the guy who made the pixls, or at least a descendent (since only dimentio, the guy who made the pixls, and the son of that guy are referred to as magicians in the game, despite other people clearly using magic) which would also make the pixl queen/possibly shadoo his sister! 

also another one but the son of the guy who made the pixls was said to be in an accident that the mother died in, and he was thought to be dead and miraculously recovered….i dont think that was an accident…i think he killed her, and it was the first time, but certainly not the last 

unpopular opinion

this is less of an unpopular opinion and more of a 50/50 one among mario fans but i REALLY hate when people try to make him (in canon) any way sympathetic, or try to justify his actions, or imply he cares about ANY of the characters bc he doesnt!!! he’s evil and horrible!! like…if it’s sorta done in a way like ‘kinda shitty backstory and he’s more complicated than he seems but he’s still a fucking ass; then like im fine with that, even if it’s not how i see him (aka the way you write him is rly good c; ) bc it’s not trying to excuse his actions!!! 

song i associate with them

uhhhhh hmmm i mean aside from the ones already associated with him, probably be prepared from the lion king fkjdhnfdhjdh (the hyenas are just millions of his clones hfdhjdkf) 

favorite picture of them

i mean of official art probably this one bc like i know it’s meant to be him bowing but he looks like he’s about to dab and i have the sense of humour of a 12 year old hjdkfnhjdkf 

fan art wise there’s…a lot but i rly like when people draw him like this 

i’ve seen two like this and its just…perfect….like…the Ultimate Gremlin

[this-book-has-been-loved]

A Gremlin In Glasses Swoops In To Save The Day

For @platonicvldweek​ Day 7: Alternate Reality

A Percy Jackson AU, cowritten by myself and @kabber​

Read it on Ao3 | Read it on FFN

“He’s on his phone again.”

Lance and Hunk sat in the back row of their classroom. Professor Montgomery was droning on an on about torque—whoever that was—and Lance was bored out of his skull.

Hunk, on the other hand, was intently paying attention, taking rigorous notes. “What?” he whispered.

“Marcus,” Lance hissed. “He’s on his phone again.”

The person in question was sitting a few rows in front of them, off to the right. He was a new student, having only transferred to their school about a week prior, but had already made teachers’ pet in nearly every class. Seemingly in opposition to that fact, Marcus was slouched in his seat, tapping away at the smartphone in his lap. Lance wasn’t sure how he was getting away with it. If he had pulled out his phone, the professor would be on him in an instant.

“He’s being so obvious about it!” Lance continued in a hushed tone. “How is no one noticing?”

Hunk shook his head. “It’s fine, man. Just focus. Don’t get too hung up on this.”

Professor Montgomery’s gaze fell on the two of them in the back, hardening in distaste, and Lance only hunched further in his seat.

Professor Montgomery resumed her lecture, and Lance resisted the urge to bang his forehead against his desk.

“I just don’t get it,” he continued. “I mean, who the fuck is torque?”

Hunk glanced at him in mild shock. “Lance, torque is a what, not a who. And we studied that weeks ago, we’re on the next chapter now.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Yes?” Lance’s attention shifted when the professor’s tone of voice changed. Montgomery was looking towards the far left end of the third row, a slightly pained smile on her face.

“Well, technically, centrifugal force isn’t actually a force.” The speaker was someone Lance recognized immediately—the precocious nerd kid who made most teachers’ lives a living hell. They were wearing an oversized green shirt that made them look even tinier than they were; and they were already pretty small to begin with, having skipped a few grades and being younger than everyone else in class. “It’s merely the reaction to the centripetal force on the object in question, resulting in the tendency of an object following a curved path to fly away from the center of curvature.”

Lance bit back a groan.

If it was possible, Professor Montgomery’s smile only tightened. “Yes, thank you, I was getting to that.”

“I hate this class,” Lance muttered, resting his chin on his desk. “I hate this.”

“Just a bit longer till the bell,” Hunk reassured him.

Marcus raised his hand, and Lance’s grip on himself got even more tenuous. “Though not a real force,” he said, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t actually been called on, “the centrifugal force is an inertial force. Newton described it as the pseudo-force directed away from the axis of rotation that appears to act on all objects when viewed in a rotating frame of reference.”

The know-it-all in the front rolled their eyes. “Well, yeah, everyone knows that. But it’s still just an effect of the inertia of motion, rather than its own force.”

Professor Montgomery opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say a word, the bell rang. The classroom full of students began to pack up, and Lance let out an audible sigh of relief as he grabbed his backpack off the floor. “And we’re out of here!” he said happily. “Weekend, here we come!” He turned back to Hunk, who was still putting away his notebook. “Ready to hit the town, my man?”

Hunk rolled his eyes in exasperated fondness. “Yeah, yeah. Just gotta stop at my locker first.”

“I swear,” Lance muttered, “sometimes I’m pretty sure that guy’s not human.” He was leaning against the wall of lockers, speaking energetically with his hands. Beside him, Hunk had his locker door open, digging through it.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Hunk agreed absently.

“Like. No one is that perfect!”

“I hear you, man.”

“Fucking Marcus.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Him and his stupid iPhones.”

“Yep.”

“Thinks he’s so much better than everyone else, just cuz he uses Apple products.” Lance pulled out his own phone—a perfectly serviceable Samsung Galaxy Note 7, thank you very much. “Shit. You almost good to go? I don’t wanna be late for the movie.”

“Yeah,” Hunk said, closing his locker door. “Ready.”

“Perfect.” Lance took off down the hallway as Hunk followed “Let’s cut through the gym,” he suggested. “That’ll take us out closer to 2nd street.”

When they got to the gym, they were shocked to see that it wasn’t as empty as they thought it would be, and Lance’s irritation returned full force when he saw it’s occupant. “Oh, it’s Marcus.”

“Hey guys,” Marcus replied, just as chipper as always, a bright smile on his face. “Just got the new iPhone XLV.”

Hunk narrowed his eyes. “Pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

“I get all the newest iPhones before they’re released to the public,” he said with a smile. “This is the newest one! So new you’ve never even heard of it, I’ll bet.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Get outta the way, I’ve got places to be.”

Marcus made no indication that he had heard him. “These phones keep getting more incredible every day! There’s so many cool new features that you humans could only dream of!”

“Us humans?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like, look at this app I downloaded,” he continued, not taking his eyes off the screen. “It’s so useful. Really helped me out when tracking you two down!”

They looked at each other and simultaneously took a step back.

“Wait, tracking us?” Hunk asked.

“Dude, what the hell are you talking about,” he said flatly.

Marcus finally looked up at them, still smiling. “But I don’t need an app for what I’m going to do to you next!”

Right before their eyes, Marcus started to change. His arms and legs thickened to the size of logs, his shoulders widened dramatically as he began to grow taller and taller…

His face shifted, two eyes becoming one giant one in the middle of his forehead. His smile went from friendly and charming to a sneer full of crooked, darkened teeth.

The monster rose to his full height slowly, grinning widely down at them.

“Welp,” Hunk said. “We’re screwed.”

“Shut u—no, you’re right, we’re janked.”

The newly monsterized Marcus threw his head back and laughed, before raising his giant fist, the one not holding an iPhone, above his head, ready to pound them into tiny pancakes. The boys were frozen in place as he brought his fist down on top of them.

Right before they were crushed to smithereens, something small and green launched itself, screaming angrily, right at the cyclop’s massive one-eyed head.

The giant grunted in surprise, trying to get a glimpse of the thing currently riding on his neck. “Wha—Get off of me!”

“Wait a second…” Lance said, narrowing his eyes. “Isn't that the weird nerdy know-it-all kid in our physics class?”

“Oh, yeah, hold on.” He snapped his fingers a few times, his brow furrowing. “Shoot, what was their name…starts with a K, right?”

“Pidge,” the newcomer shouted down at them, hanging on for dear life. “I mean, yes, you’re right. But I prefer to go by Pidge.” They held on tighter as the cyclops tried to dislodge them. “Now get out of here!” They wielded a strange weapon- like a cross between a dagger and brass knuckles, which they were currently trying to slash across the monster’s neck.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Hunk said, already halfway to the door.

“Hunk, wait! We can’t just leave him!”

“What?! Are we looking at the same giant monster thing here?”

“I said,” Pidge growled through gritted teeth. “Get out of here, you stupid morta- Whoooa!”

The monster had finally gotten a hold of Pidge, ripping them away from his neck and halfway across the gym.

“Shiiiiit,” Pidge said as they landed with a loud crash on a pile of gym equipment.

The monster turned his steely gaze on the boys.

“Just for the record,” Hunk said matter-of-factly, “this is your fault.”

They turned and ran towards the door.

“It’s locked!” Lance shouted, pulling desperately at the door handle. Now they really did have no choice but to help. It was either that or cowering in the corner. The latter was starting to seem more appealing.

They didn’t get a chance to decide, because at that moment, Pidge emerged from the pile of old, smelly gym stuff.

“Catch!” they shouted. The two of them turned around just in time to catch two… hockey sticks?

“A hockey stick,” Lance muttered. He sent a glare towards his tiny classmate. “You couldn’t have thrown us something more useful?”

“We’re in the middle of our hockey unit, we don’t exactly have a whole lot of options here!” And with that, they whirled back on the giant, weird blade thing at the ready.

“I don’t know about this, bro,” Hunk muttered.

“Yeah, me neither. Let’s do this shit.” He rushed at the cyclops while yelling, waving his hockey stick wildly in front of him. Hunk followed behind him, also yelling, though it was definitely more out of fear than determination.

They whacked uselessly at the giant’s knees. The monster laughed. “You really think those cheap plastic things will do anything against me?”

“No, but this will!” Pidge pounced on the giant, swinging their arm like a street fighter suckerpunching his opponent. The blade in their hand sliced into the monster, sending the iPhone in his hand flying across the air and against the wall, showering them in a spectacular explosion of glass.

“No! That was my last backup phone!” Marcus roared.

“Oh, just wait three months for the new one to come out,” Pidge scoffed. They drew their blade across the back of the cyclop’s calves as they rushed past him, causing him to fall to his knees.

“You little shit!” He swiped at them, but they were too fast, dancing just out of his reach.

They ran up the monster’s arm as he pounded the ground just next to them. “Fuck you! And your overly-priced phones!”

The cyclops twisted his body trying to get rid of the unwanted pest.

“Looks like you need a new service provider,” they said intensely.

“Wow,” said Hunk. “That was kind of…”

“Really cool?” Lance suggested.

Pidge drew their knife across the cyclop’s throat, deep enough that his head hung off his shoulders for a moment, before exploding into dust, quite literally.

The force was enough to knock Lance and Hunk back several feet.

When the dust cleared, Pidge stood at the center of the room, covered in dust but looking quite satisfied with themself.

“Well,” Hunk started. “That was. That was a thing.”

“That’s certainly one way to put it,” Pidge muttered.

“So,” Lance said. “Pidge? Um, yeah, quick question. What the hell just happened?!”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Pidge replied cooly, wiping their strange dagger against their shirt. “Well. I’ll see you in class.”

“Hold up!” Lance cried, chasing after them and grabbing them by the shoulder. “You can’t just leave. What was that?!”

“Yeah, man,” Hunk agreed. “A giant cyclops or something just attacked us, and you’re trying to brush it off—”

“Wait.” Pidge paused, turning to glance at the two boys. “You…could see all of that?”

“Uh, yeah?” Lance replied, looking at Pidge in confusion. “What kind of a question is that? Of course we could see it!”

They were silent for a moment, looking between Hunk and Lance in shock. They took a step back, eyes falling to stare at the floor, their brow furrowing. “It must have sensed you,” Pidge murmured to themself. They looked up sharply, meeting the startled eyes of their companions. “What exactly were you doing before that thing attacked?”

Surprised at their vehemence, Lance stepped back. “Um. I dunno. We were just gonna cut through the gym to use the far exit.”

“He said something about tracking us?” Hunk offered. “Something on his phone.”

Pidge’s expression changed to one of annoyance. “Of course.” They raised an eyebrow, smirking at Lance. “Lemme guess. Too many selfies?”

“No!” Lance sputtered. “And even if that was it, there’s nothing wrong with selfies! They’re a great way to capture the moment—”

“Yeah, not for demigods,” Pidge interrupted.

Hunk frowned. “Demi what?”

Pidge bit their lip, looking around them anxiously. “We need to get out of here,” they decided. “Don’t wanna be here when the police show up.”

Hunk paled. “Police?!”

“Just follow me!” Pidge called, headed towards a side exit. “I’ll explain once we’ve reached a more secure location.”

‘A more secure location’, as it turned out, meant the alley a few blocks down the road. The three of them crouched behind a dumpster, Pidge periodically checking the street for any intruders.

“Alright, know-it-all,” Lance demanded. “We’re at your ‘secure location’. Now talk.”

Pidge sighed. “Okay. You saw that, right? You saw what Marcus turned into?”

“Y-yeah,” Hunk replied nervously.

“You’re lucky I was there to help.”

“That begs the question,” Lance began. “How exactly did you know to come to the gym just then?”

Pidge crossed their arms. “I’ve been tailing that guy for days,” they confessed. “Just waiting for him to reveal himself. I just didn’t expect him to go after you guys instead of me.”

“It looked like a cyclops…” Hunk added. “But that’s impossible.” He frowned. “Right?”

“Did it look impossible when you were whacking at it with plastic sticks?” Pidge asked.

“Uh…”

“But yes, to normal people, it would seem impossible. So impossible, in fact, they wouldn’t have been able to see it the way it really was. But obviously we’re not.”

“Normal people?”

“Yeah.” Pidge crossed their arms and tilted their head. “Well, I mean, some mortals can see through the Mist. But the odds of running into two at once—”

“Whoa, whoa, back up. Why did you say…normal people? Mortals? As if…as if we’re not?”

Pidge looked at them for a long time. “Yes,” they said after a while. “You’re not. And neither am I.”

Hunk’s eyes widened in horror. “If we’re not human,” he fretted, “then what are we?! Are we aliens?!?!”

“Relax, Hunk, none of us are aliens,” Lance said. “Aliens aren’t real.”

Hunk breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re still human,” Pidge assured him. “Or, half.”

Lanced narrowed his eyes. “…what’s the other half?”

Pidge crossed their arms. “You’re in my history class,” they stated matter-of-factly. “With Mr Harris, right? Do you remember what unit we were studying last month?”

“Um.” Lance blinked. “Maybe?”

“Ancient civilizations,” Pidge answered. “Egyptian, Norse, Roman….” They raised an eyebrow pointedly. “Greek.”

“Greek,” Lance repeated dumbly.

“Greek god, Lance. One of your parents was a Greek god.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Lance abruptly stood up, turning to walk away. “Okay. Good talk. Nice meeting you. I’m going back home, where things make sense.”

“Yeah, where the police are out looking for the kids who just trashed the school gym?”

“But—” Hunk protested, “we didn’t do that! That was Marcus!”

“Remember what I said about normal people not being able to see that kind of stuff?” Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow. “This falls under that category. I can guarantee that when they watch back that security footage, they’re just gonna see the three of us, tearing apart the gym. No Marcus to be seen.”

Lance had frozen a few feet away, mid step. He and Hunk were silent for a moment, processing.

Pidge sighed. “I’ve been here before,” they said softly. “I know how this is. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve had to transfer schools. My brother too.”

“So….” Hunk still looked completely freaked out, as though he didn’t know where to go or who to turn to. “What do we do now?”

“Listen,” Pidge told the two of them gently. “Now that you know, things are gonna start getting more dangerous for you.”

“I’m not a fan of the word ‘dangerous’,” Hunk said.

“I need to get you someplace safe.” They stood up, brushing the dirt off their cargo shorts. “Come on. I know a place we can go.”

“A place?” Lance echoed warily.

“Mm-hmm,” Pidge said, flashing them a sly grin. “You guys ever been to New York?”

[gloomverse-fan-club]

Okay so I was writing a story in google docs and I asked Mod Wallis to help me finish it so here we have a 4-page, 1,376-word story and the first half is basically normal and the rest is something that he did.

okay so ENJOY sjdfNJFSDF -mod purple

(per note; aurora is my oc this was supposed to be a serious fanfiction jasdkasd. the premise was that purple + wallis never met and it kind of dissolved the moment mod wallis pops in)

[ under the cut! ]

thank u zeph for helping

Professor Purple, renowned scientist of Gloomverse, studying the biology and magic of the world. Growing up, Purple seemed to be mostly disliked by his peers. The first fraction of his life, he lived in Steamverse, a smaller portion of Gloomverse, before he and his family moved to Prisma, the capital of the country. Two years after the move, his mother left, and four years after, his father died. He was twelve then, and now he is twenty-six. Oftentimes, he now seems to react mechanically to most everything. Nothing ever seems to go his way, and now, the colour problem was just another thing he had to deal with. But, Purple pushes all of that under the rug. He has work to do.

“Have you heard Wallis Gloom’s last show? It sounded like it was phenomenal!”

Purple looked up from his paperwork to see his co-worker, Aurora, staring at the wall with doe eyes. He rolled his own eyes before looking back down, continuing his work.

“I haven’t, actually. Those types of things don’t interest me much, you should know that, Aurora. But, if I’m right, I should have a private interview scheduled with him sometime soon,” Purple said offhandedly, shuffling through his papers, searching for one that may have gotten lost. “I actually don’t know much about Gloom, aside from what’s shoved in my face in the streets. Judging from that, though, I have to say- I’m not very impressed.”

“Wait, really? ‘Not very impressed,’ are you kidding?! Are we talking about the same Gloom here?!” Aurora was brought out of his trance almost immediately, looking incredulous.

“Unless there’s someone else in the world with the surname ‘Gloom’, I assume that we are,” Purple mutters, shoving his papers into the drawer, wheeling himself back over on his office chair.

“Well, his parents, probably. Okay, okay, but that’s beside the point! You’re meeting with him?!” Aurora practically shouted. Purple gave him a wary look, taking the moment to consider what reaction he may get in response if he had said “Yes-”

“But it’s only for an interview, nothing happens with these. Again, I’m not expecting much, from some celebrity named ‘Wallis Gloom’ or anybody else,” Purple pauses, playing with a pen before looking at Aurora, chuckling to himself. “If it’s someone like the leader of Stratoverse, or Inverse, maybe then I’ll be a bit nervous. But all that Gloom is is a magician. He’s no less than that- But I’d be rude to assume he’s nothing more.”

“I guess you’re right.. But still, do you think you can get an autograph for me? Please!” Aurora begged, looking excited out of his mind. Purple pauses for another moment before sighing, giving up.

“Sure Aurora, I’ll see what I can do.”

When Purple said he wasn’t expecting much, he wasn’t kidding. He truly didn’t see anything good or bad in Wallis Gloom, but he respected his position. He was more famous than him, at least, and gaining the respect of the people was everything in this society. So, in more ways than one, he was a very successful man, moreso than Purple. So, he can respect his lifestyle, at least.

Purple buzzed the bell to the gates of Wallis Gloom’s mansion. This place looks as extra as his show outfits are, Purple thought dryly. At least he was dedicated. He waited a moment, before he heard a gruff voice through the speaker, asking his name and business. He gave the needed information, and after it seemed that the gruff voice had gotten confirmation, the gates had opened.

Upon walking through, he noticed that the garden appeared to be very well-kempt, as well as the inside of the house. He felt sorry for the poor soul whom had to keep everything tidy around here. Walking inside, hey zeph can you write the rest of this for me thanks

Yeah sure i’ll take it from here

Walking inside, he was shocked to see a strange tiny gremlin with blue hair- Wait no, that…. That was… A human! A human man- Wallis didn’t look like this on the television that didn’t exist… Photoshop, maybe?? Taking a step forward, he bit his lip, unsure if he should make his presence known.

“Uh… Excuse me? Are you Wallis Gloom??”

The gremlin froze, entire frame trembling as he turned to the grape man, eyes- Eye? Purple wasn’t sure due to the eyepatch- Alight with a frenzied hunger that rattled through the pleasant home. The air turned cold, the sun outside hiding behind its cloudy lovers, as the tiny, tiny man took a slow inhale.

Purple had to resist the urge to run, that one yellow orb staring straight into his soul like a lazerbeam. Fear shot through him, his knees faltering slightly… This…. This was what true fear was.

The whole world seemed to fall still, the eye contact maintained for an approximate one minute thirty two seconds, as someone far off a man let out a single yell of distress. Finally, Purple managed to utter out a sentence, throat parched thanks to some distant force.

“Who…… Who are you…!??”

The man let out a small chuckle, like fingernails on chalkboard, eye glinting. “...I go by many names,” He whispered, voice from a thousand mouths. “Niak………...Joey…………… Some even call me…………..” He tilts his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “.....Parsley………..”

“What are you here for?! Where- Where’s Wallis?!!”

The creature didn’t respond, only reacting by reacking down into the floor, his hand clipping through thanks to some unknown magic, and Purple could only watch in horror as he pulled a handful of…. Of….. Of DIRT from the spaces between reality.

“...No…. No, Oh god, please no….” he croaked, slowly shaking his head. He just wanted an interview, not this!! Anything but this!!

Alas, his pleas went unheard, the being slowly lifting the brown, dirty, dirty dirt to his mouth, a snake like tongue darting out to taste the delectable morsels of Earth. With a throaty giggle, he painstakingly shovelled it into his mouth, jaw cracking with effort. Purple let out a bloodcurdling scream, as the beast turned to face him, dirt dribbling from his face to the floor, before once again clipping through.

“WHY are you DOING THIS?!!” Purple let out with a broken cry, tears streaming down his face.

Joeyniakparsley put his hands together, smiling softly at the scientist. “Well Professor…. You see....”

He takes a step back, his image flickering as though a hologram. He began to fade… Fade from existence. Just as Purple thought he could bare no more, the beast spoke.

“The writers were really fucking bored.”

With a piercing whistle the figure collapsed into tiny grains of dirt, suddenly shooting towards Purple like a plague of locusts. He opened his mouth to scream, squeezing his eyes shut-

“Hey, uh, are you going to stand out there forever?? You were meant to be here like, 5 minutes ago.”

Purple’s eyes snapped open as he took in the scene before him- He was outside, a very pissy looking Wallis Gloom standing before him, hands on hips.

“I-I, uh…. I…” Purple stammered, glancing around nervously- What had just happened…? “I thought-”

“Yeah yeah whatever, hurry inside, I’ve got another public appearance at 2pm sharp and I don’t want to be held up,” The magician spun on his heels, strutting inside and leaving the befuddled Professor to gawk at his retreating form from the front doorstep.

He shook his head- He must have zoned out and imagined it all… Well, whatever, he needed to just get this over with. Following the star, he took the time to take a couple of calming breaths… It was fine, and just like his daydream, the whole place was immaculate… How weird. Maybe it was sleep deprivation… But it was okay now. He was safe. Just a little while longer and he could- Wait…. No….

“Oh, by the way, you should watch your step,” Wallis muttered, pausing with one foot on the step, an unseen wind ruffling his blonde locks. He turned, meeting Purple’s terrified gaze with a wide grin, single yellow eye gleaming with unbridled amusement.

“...Someone left their dirt on the floor.”

~~The end.~~