#killer should be allowed to be his worst with color

[what-have-i-unleashed]

killer and color "enemies" phase headcanons (might be a bit too indulgent sorry)

inspired by the tags on this post

nightmare always lets killer to go off to fight color when they deal with the star sanses and/or the epic sanses, providing that killer is an obedient servant of course. whenever he's given the permission, killer just immediately takes off to fight color. his fated enemy. if there is a soulmate in this world, color would be killer's.

killer and color always fight each other with no intervention, mostly because killer doesn't like it when other interferes with their "games". this is a special right only color gets to have. if color gets help, killer will brutally and quickly take them out before resuming his usual song-and-dance with his fated enemy - that's why color always advises others to not help him, not even in the smallest ways. if any of nightmare's other minions get between killer and color, killer will make them pay. nightmare forbids killer from killing his coworkers, but that doesn't mean killer won't make their lives a living hell if they decide to butt into his business and steal away his favorite "toy".

and i think when killer fights color, he feels... happy of some sorts. he just emits some toxic variation of positivity, a cruel and deranged, but also warm and delighted, joy at playing with color. look at how they fit into each other's steps. look at how exhilarated and alive color makes killer feel. the barbs, the taunts, the comebacks - it feels good to have someone to receive what he dishes out and return it with a pretty bow on top. nightmare often stays away because of the positivity killer has during his fights with color. and killer, in some twisted way, deduces that this is his reward from nightmare for "being good" - a positive reinforcement to ensure his long-lasting loyalty to nightmare of sorts.

and this close and personal relationship with color that killer has is so different from his other relationships. with nightmare, with chara, he's always the hurt one, the one under control. but with color, it's refreshing to have something, someone, he can hold and carve his feeble feelings upon. someone to receive all his worst tendencies and still be strong enough to appear next time to oppose him and play with him again. he could almost call color a "friend", but that's not the correct word, isn't it? they're both "toys" in someone's games. and killer wishes it'll be like this forever. he wishes color would remain his "toy" so he can have this small speck of joy til the end of his time. "let me hurt you, and you can hurt me back - because that's what we're supposed to be in this grand cosmic narrative." they're enemies, so it's fine if they hurt each other, right? it's fine if killer doesn't need to bow down or accommodate another authoritarian being in his life, right? it's okay to make color suffer all his worst, and in return he wishes to crack open color's deepest darkest secrets too.

{pspsps @howlsofbloodhounds come here}

[daydream-cement]

Organs in the Wash Ch. 3

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Reader and Miranda are back on the case. Things turn a little dangerous for dear, little reader.

TW: Intruder/Break-In (No one is harmed)

As you walked through the halls of the police station, you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose at the behavior of most of the men working there. The amount of vulgarity and horseplay you saw in your ten minutes following Miranda from the car to the morgue was enough to make you question how Miranda kept such a positive attitude about her work.

Miranda didn’t seem to have many positive work relationships as even Robin seemed to keep the blonde at an arm's length. Even as you analyzed all the negative components of her workplace, Miranda chattered excitedly about the police station. She pointed out her desk from afar, told you about the locker rooms in the back, and explained that even though she had been working there for three years, she had been learning lots from being Robin’s partner. 

Robin led the way down to the morgue and Miranda lingered back to walk at your side, “I didn’t start  viewing bodies in the morgue until Robin came.”

“Oh… I’m not going in there.” You stopped short of the doors to the coroner’s lab, glancing up to Miranda who looked down at you with a confused expression. Through the windows you could see the body lying on the metal table. Looking at a dead body through a phone was much different than standing next to one. 

“What did you think you came down here for? You have to look at the body.” Robin Griffin narrowed her gaze at you, folding her arms over her chest. You didn��t take Robin’s behavior to heart. She didn’t seem to like anyone, treating Miranda with the same shortness. 

“We could just take a picture like last time. She can use my computer to research what it means.” Miranda’s solution was more of a command as she didn’t appreciate the way Robin spoke to you. The women went back and forth with their argument, neither wanting to give in. Rather than speaking up, you allowed Miranda to argue for you. 

Robin grew tired of arguing with Miranda, finally giving in to her partner’s desires, “Fine. Take her upstairs.”

“I can show you my desk!“ Miranda grabbed you by your arm and pulled you along behind her, back the way you came from. One thing you truly appreciated about her was the fact she didn’t indulge in the awkwardness of a budding relationship, rather she treated you like a friend she has known since childhood.

Miranda had been so excited to show you her desk, but you wouldn’t have been able to tell if she hadn’t told you it belonged to her. She pulled her desk chair out for you, motioning for you to sit, “It isn’t much, but I like it.”

“It’s lov-”

A coworker of Miranda cut you off, beginning to tease her mercilessly. Your lip curled into a snarl at his prodding of Miranda’s appearance and sexuality, “Way to be a gentleman, Hilmarson. We were wondering when you would begin to show your true colors.” 

“You owe me lunch. I told you this was her type, not Griffin.” Another man chimed in, shoving the first coworker towards his desk in the back corner. 

From the desk chair, you gazed up at Miranda who began faking a smile as soon as she noticed you staring. She was quick to come up with an excuse for their unforgivable behavior, “They just like to joke around… It’s okay.”

“It’s really not. Miranda, you should-” You felt a sense of righteous justice for Miranda. She was too kind and forgiving to these worst sorts of men. There was a part of you that was tempted to rise up from her desk chair and give those two officers a piece of your mind, but Miranda cutting you off kept you seated. 

“Robin texted me the picture!” Miranda exclaimed, offering up her phone for you to view the picture. You took her phone from your hands and propped it against her computer screen. Instead of the Deseret sentence being carved into the young woman’s chest, the killer had written the sentence across her back. Maya’s body had been cut so deliberately, but this seemed to have been a rushed job. 

𐐊𐑌𐐻𐐮𐑊 𐐌 𐑀𐐯𐐻 𐐶𐐲𐐻 𐐌 𐐶𐐪𐑌𐐻, 𐑋𐐬𐑉 𐐸𐐬𐑉𐑆 𐐶𐐮𐑊 𐐿𐐲𐑌𐐻𐐮𐑌𐐷𐐭 𐐻𐐭 𐐼𐐨. -𐐞𐐨

“Well, Mir, I think we are looking at the same code. I don’t know if we are dealing with the most creative of individuals.”’ On one side of the monitor you had a copy of the Deseret alphabet and the other was a word document so you could take notes on the syllables. Miranda had a hand on either side of you, leaning down to watch your work from over your shoulder. You attempted to focus on your work, but her proximity was distracting. 

“What do you think, bug? What does it say?” Miranda’s voice was filled with excitement. She loved watching you at work a few days ago, and the thought of working with you once more made her giddy. Typically Robin wouldn’t involve Miranda as much as you while researching, so your willingness to involve her made her fondness for you deepen. 

You brush aside the sweet nickname, trying to maintain a bit of professionalism instead of teasing or flirting with her. Studying the words for a moment, you sigh in frustration, “None of the words are repeated. We will have to go through it all syllable by syllable again.”

You began working as a team, going back and forth to identify each of the symbols. Miranda began identifying the symbols for you as you typed them out. As you moved closer to decoding the sentence, Miranda seemed to get closer and closer to you, her sternum pressed to the back of your head as she watched the sentence grow. Her eyes narrowed in on the monitor, thoughts swirling as her brain worked through the manner in which the syllables fell together. 

Once each of the symbols was decoded, you both began mumbling the syllables altogether to determine the content of the clue. Your minds almost seemed to connect when you both came to the solution simultaneously. 

Until I get what I want, more whores will continue to die. -Z

“But what does he want?” You crane your neck to look up at Miranda. She looked vexed with her brow furrowed and eyes lingering on the computer monitor. Whoever was killing these women didn’t seem inclined on stopping anytime soon. 

—--

“Be careful, will you?” Miranda hovered near your door, her fingers reaching to grasp yours. You stood with a foot or so of distance between you, hands meeting in the middle, fingers tangled up together. With a gentle sway of her arm, Miranda began swinging your arms back and forth. 

“Be careful? What do you mean?” You couldn’t hide how smitten you were with her, your head rolling back to stare at her lovingly. 

All evening you had found her to be so charming. She came over to make you ‘breakfast for dinner’ which consisted of you sitting on the kitchen counter while she handed you hot pancakes straight from the griddle. Once you finished one, Mir would kiss your palm before handing you another. She was a hopeless romantic and to this, you were not opposed. 

“With… everything going on... I worry…” Miranda wasn’t intending on scaring you, but she would rather have you be diligent than ignorant. Both of her hands came to grasp your one, trying to convey her concern for you. 

“Why would I worry about that when I have you?” You try to ease her mind with harmless flirting which seemed to have worked when Miranda smiled down at you. 

She raised your hand to her lips, pressing the most gentle of kisses to the back of it before relinquishing you from her grasp, “Goodnight, bug.”

“Goodnight, Mir.” You were hesitant on closing the door, but it was getting late and you’d rather not have Miranda tired for work nor have her driving so late. Miranda tilted her head as you closed the door, lengthening the time she could look at you before you shut the door. 

Once alone, you began to straighten up your apartment whilst daydreaming about Miranda. You found her to be so dreamy, in a dorky kind of way. She spoke endlessly about her career, star trek, and a summer volleyball league she created with friends. And while she tended to ramble, she never forgot something once you told it to her. She remembered the beer you liked from the bar, bringing you a case before she came over. Her questions about your work were so in depth and well thought out. From all of the wonderful things you had experienced while with Miranda, it was hard to understand how she could be single. 

Your phone pinged every few minutes with a new text from Miranda, so you kept the device at arms length to respond as soon as you received a text. Three consecutive texts came through. She was too cute. 

M: I had SOOOO much fun tonight!!! ✨:))

M: Next time I’m thinkin Chinese food 👀

M: Buttttt! we get take out because I know a great restaurant that will make it better than I ever could 😭

You lock the front door and turn off the kitchen lights as you read and then re-read the text messages. Her excitement for pursuing a relationship with you made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Eyes glued to your phone, you wander into your bedroom, closing and locking the door behind yourself. You sprawl across your bed, delaying getting ready for the night for the opportunity to flirt with Miranda via text. It was when Miranda began teasing you about not being ready for bed that you finally stripped yourself of your day clothes. 

You toss your dirty clothes in the hamper and pull on your sleep clothes. With each piece of clothing you put on, you lingered over your phone that lay on the bed to continue reading the messages from Miranda. She was having a beer with Robin before she was planning on heading to bed. You finally tuck yourself back into bed, phone cemented to your hand. In the moments between messages from Miranda, you closed your eyes, learning into the pillow and daydreamed about spending more time with sweet little Miranda. 

You were drawn from your daydreams when you heard the unmistakable creaking of your front door. Your heart stopped in your chest and your blood turned cold. Holding your breath, you attempted to listen closely, hoping your mind was playing tricks on you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes when you heard the noise: someone was softly whistling to themselves as they wandered about your apartment. 

Your phone buzzed on the bed next to you. You debated looking at the message from Miranda, worried the intruder would be able to hear the silent tapping of your fingers against your phone screen. WIth a shaky hand, you reach to grab your phone, careful not to rustle any blankets. 

M: Are you finally headed to bed? 😗

M: We should find a show that can be “our show” :))

M: OO! Maybe maybe we can find something on Netflix? What streaming platforms do you have? 🤔

You ignore the messages, choosing to tell her what was going on instead

There is someone in my apartment. 

Call the police. 

You aren’t able to see if Miranda responded as you dropped your phone to the bed beside you. The whistling grew closer to your bedroom door. Whoever was out there wanted to play mind games with you as they knocked on your door three times before attempting to turn the doorknob. A man’s voice rang out from the otherside, “Tsk, tsk, tsk. It seems like someone is trying to hide from me…”

The man began to laugh as you heard his footfalls move away from your bedroom door. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You needed to hide. Silently, you grabbed your phone and slipped from bed, shifting to the floor. There was space beneath your bed among the bins of cool weather clothes you kept tucked away. You wedge your way under the bed and position the two bins on either side of you, hoping it can create enough coverage to hide yourself if he were to enter. 

Finally, you take the time to look at your messages, your ears on high alert for the intruder. After his earlier statement, he wasn’t going to leave until he found you. There was one message and five missed calls from Miranda. 

M: I have officers headed there. I’m on my way. 

Miranda called again, but you declined the call, not wanting to make any noise or draw any attention to yourself. You texted her you were safe and needed to be quiet before silencing your phone so you could turn your attention back to listening for the intruder. 

The apartment was achingly silent. You felt a panic attack rising in your chest, but you attempted to tamp down the feeling, knowing the heavy breathing would reveal your location. The tears once pricking at your eyes now spilled over to your cheeks. Worst case scenarios were swirling in your head and all of them ended with you ending up like the two women that have been found this week. 

Scraping against your bedroom window caused you to jump. After many achingly long minutes, a sound finally alluded to the man's location: he was now on your fire escape. You cover your mouth with your hand, gently rocking yourself back and forth as a form of self soothing, but it really wasn’t working. The scraping sound turned so sharp and harsh it made your ears ring. It was the sound of a hunter's knife being drug across the outer surface of your window. 

You sobbed silently, mourning for your own impending death. If Miranda wasn’t here by now, it would be very likely there would be no saving you. 

The man struggled with your window, shoving the tip of his knife into the window lock in an attempt to break it. You took a deep breath and held it, knowing any second the window would be lifted and the determined intruder would roam freely about your room. 

There was a harsh cracking noise. The lock was broken. 

He lifted the window slowly, attempting to increase the fear coursing through your body. You held your breath, positive he could hear your inhales and exhales. The window was open a few inches when he spoke to you once more, “I know you’re in here. Why don’t you come on out? You can translate the Deseret alphabet as I carve it into your skin…”

You were so focused on the sounds from your bedroom window, you hadn’t heard the opening of your front door. Now a force slammed against your bedroom door, breaking the lock, Miranda’s voice rang clear, “Get him.”

From your position under the bed, you couldn’t see Miranda grab her coworker by the vest and shove him towards the window where the intruder had been. The perpetrator now was scrambling down the stairs of the fire escape with two police officers trying their best to keep up with them. You could hear the officers struggling to get through the window due to their gear. One of the men was able to squeeze through and you heard three rounds discharge from his weapon before hearing a breathy, “Fuck…”

The room went quiet as the two police officers tramped down the fire escape in pursuit of the potentially wounded intruder. Miranda’s voice came quietly, “Y/n? Where are you? It’s safe to come out…”

You waste no time pushing the bin of clothes out of the way, leaning towards her boots. At the first movement of the bin, Miranda sank to her hands and knees. She lifted the bedskirt and made eye contact with you. Her outfit was disheveled from her manic way of dressing herself so she could come to your aid. Miranda extended a hand to you, her voice filled with guilt, “I’m sorry… I never should have left you alone.”

You didn’t speak. Your whole body was trembling and you couldn’t get the sound of the man’s voice from your head, you can translate the Deseret alphabet as I carve it into your skin. You allowed Miranda to guide you from under the bed, immediately pulling you into her arms when she was able. Once in the safety of her arms, the sobs began wracking your body and you allowed yourself to cry openly. 

Miranda held you in her lap, rocking you back and forth and talking to you quietly, “I’m here now… No one is going to hurt you while I’m here…” 

—--

Miranda took you down to the station, keeping you near her at all times. Her protective hand was splayed across your back, guiding you through the front doors and back to her desk. She pushed you down into the desk chair and leaned in close, her hands rubbing your arms, “I’m going to be right there in my boss’s office. We are going to find you a place to stay…”

You only heard half of what Miranda was telling you. The scene from your room replayed over and over in your mind, distracting you from the world around you. Miranda leaves you in her desk chair. She stands a few feet away in Adrian’s doorway, watching you from the corner of her eye as she speaks to him. They talk in hushed tones, leaving you out of the conversation, but Miranda’s furrowed brow and clenched fists told you the conversation wasn’t going her way. 

Minutes more passed and finally Miranda was back at your side. Her hand pulled you up from the chair and her face dipped low by your ear, “You are coming home with me.”

—----

Miranda seemed to have an entire plan for your next few days. You would remain at her home where she could watch over you and she kept repeating the phrase, ‘I’ll find him and I’ll kill him.’ Maybe it was comforting to Miranda to hear, but you were trying not to think of the man who wanted you dead. 

Now as her ward, Miranda seemed to have left your romantic relationship in the past. She was attempting to maintain an air of professionalism between caring gestures. Miranda fixed you a bed on her couch and showed you multiple times her doors were locked. She puttered around the kitchen, offering you tea, snacks, or a beer. In actuality, Miranda was hoping you would fall asleep on the couch in the time she was awake so she knew you were sleeping peacefully. Slumber never came for you. 

Miranda awkwardly wished you goodnight and headed off to bed, leaving her bedroom door cracked. You stared awake at the ceiling, listening to the movements in the apartment above, each gust of wind against the windows, and natural shifting of the building. Each moment you expected to hear the twisting of the front door handle or the sliding of the living room window. The anxiety from the anticipation caused tears to well in your eyes once more. 

You weren’t sure what to do. On one hand you could just go into Miranda’s room and tell her you couldn’t sleep, but you didn’t want to be a burden more than you already were. You glance over to Miranda’s room and a dim light from a bedside lamp flooded from the crack in the door, perhaps you could just go in to chat for a little bit. The feeling of guilt weighed heavily as you moved from the couch towards Miranda’s bedroom with one of her blankets wrapped around your shoulders. 

You knock twice and push the door open. A wide grin spreads across Miranda’s face once she lays eyes on you, “Hiya, bug. Can’t sleep, huh?”

Her greeting brings a pained smile to your face. Was it that obvious? You glance up at the ceiling, not wanting to be looking at her if you begin to cry again, “I- Well, I was just- You have already done so much for me and- I wanted to ask you-”

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight?” Miranda cocked her head, her hand reaching out to draw back the covers on the open side of the bed. You only nod in response and allow yourself to approach the bed. Slipping into bed next to her, your eyes feel heavy just being surrounded by her presence and scent. Her bed smelled faintly of men’s deodorant and freshly laundered sheets. You remembered how she raved about how well men’s deodorant worked 

You move the pillow so you can hug it close while you lay your head on it. Miranda smiles down at you, brushing a few stray hairs from your face, “Try and sleep. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Thank you, Andy.” You reach up, pulling her hand from your face. You lift your head and place it under your cheek, holding her close. Miranda bit her lip, smiling widely at the affection, but you couldn’t see her adoring gaze as your eyes were now shut. With slow deep breaths, you focused in on Miranda’s protective presence, knowing she would keep her promise of keeping you safe. 

[theplanetprince]

Some more dash and a-lister posts that technically aren't canon but I feel like should be.

-Sam before her goth phase used to actually have playdates with Dash and Paulina because of parental obligation things. They all have a mutual understanding to never bring this up.

-they were the kids that had elaborate/cursed pretend barbie soap operas.

-dash stopped hanging around the girls in like the 5th grade, and this kick started Sam's joker phase bc of this "betrayal."

-Paulina's family bought a bunch of possibly haunted furniture from Ghostwriter's estate sale -- it has the side effect of giving her weird dreams and chronic head aches, but damn that chaise lounge looks killer.

-i full hearted believe that Dash if given enough time would have become the phantom's team medic. And when asked why he was such a jackass freshman year he would say "its because it's infinitely easier to hurt people than to fix them."

-on top of the cutesy band aids and teddy bear collection, Dash has a pink DS as well as other stuff like this. Its genuinely his favorite color, mostly because it's practical-- you can see it really easily, he knows no one else on the football team would have pink stuff-- ten percent because it looks good on him.

-Dash is Sidney Poindexter's Nephew. Sidney Poindexter was Dash's Father's brother.

-Same thread I think it would be funny if Star was distantly related to Young Blood- explaining her childish traits.

-Kwan's family owns a liquor store or some other small business in town. I say liquor store because it would be really funny to have a store called "Amity Park Spirits."

-Kwan's dad I feel like would be friends with Jack. Or at the very least Kwan's dad is friendly with Jack.

-Kwan is extremely different around strangers versus his real friends. Kwan is formal and courteous with strangers whereas his friendship Dash allows them both to indulge in their worst traits.

-Kwan and Val are Exs but are still really good friends, because no one can resist Kwan's charms. No one.

-Paulina and Dash love horror movies, Kwan can't stand them.

-Kwan is actually just a big of a coward as Dash maybe bigger but his fear response is to freeze, instead of run.

-Paulina, Dash, and Star try to keep up with the Phantom and ghost stuff-- while Kwan and Wes sound like those guys who can't tell celebrities apart.

-Kwan and Wes-- underrated dynamic I feel. Absolute Sunshine Child with the crustiest little guy.

-Wes only looks short in comparison to the others but being the basketball dork he still towers over the phantom trio. Though Paulina and Star don't let him get a big head about it-- they wear heels to dwarf him.

-Wes and Tucker are on the school paper together. Half because Wes is stalking them, half because he wants to perfect the craft of writing the perfect roast. Tucker despite thinking Wes is a total clown show often works with him on assignments.

[pearlsephoni]

At the End of the Sun, Ch 23: The Last Leg

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: Chapter: M; Whole Work: E

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Kagehina (Kageyama/Hinata)

Characters: Shoyo Hinata, Issei Matsukawa, Yuutaro Kindaichi, Takahiro Hanamaki

Word Count: Chapter: 5k; Whole Work: 160k

Summary: With his destination finally within reach, Shoyo comes to terms with the reality of what his next step is.

A/N: Originally published on AO3 on July 21st, and beta'd by @/r0mantic-era. Further author's note can be found on AO3.

☾

Fear was a fickle thing. Sometimes it welled up when he’d expect it, like nearly losing his life while battling his worst fear. Sometimes it left him alone after an initial spike, allowing him to focus on dealing with the threat facing him, like with the ushi-oni and dragon the previous day. Sometimes it abandoned him when he really should’ve been a little scared, like when it took him eleven months to feel unsettled by the fact he didn’t know the shadow’s face.

And then sometimes it hit him when he wouldn’t expect it. Like that night, the night before he would finally see Oikawa again and plead for Tobio’s freedom. There was no point in being nervous just yet. He still had enough time to think over what he would say. The real nerves should have arrived in the morning, when he would be facing the castle head-on.

But no. Anxiety pressed against his throat, making him pick at the mouth-watering roasted meat Hajime had prepared.

“Hey.” He jolted, his attention jerking from the meat to Hajime. “Don’t get sick. I don’t have enough meat to give you a second serving.”

Hajime’s blunt concern brought a smile to Shoyo’s lips. “I won’t. I’m just…nervous. Really nervous.”

“Nervous to meet with Oikawa?”

Shoyo nodded. He had only faced the sorcerer for a handful of minutes, but that was all he needed to know that changing Oikawa’s mind about anything, much less the fate of his lover’s killer, would be nearly impossible.

But failure meant a life without Tobio. It had only been a year, and Shoyo already couldn't fathom it. "How…how do I convince him to let Tobio go?"

"He's not easily manipulated, and he suffers no fools," Hajime sighed. His grin was somewhere between fond and resigned. "But no matter how powerful he is, he's still human. Appeal to that. Remind him of his humanity, and of your own. You'd be surprised how far a bit of honesty and vulnerability can get you."

Shoyo nodded, eyes tracing Hajime’s handsome, rugged features. Unlike Tobio’s wolf form, Hajime’s didn’t take on the color of his black hair. His rich brown fur spoke more of his tan skin and the sun-brightened tips of his hair that shone brown in the light.

One thing he did have in common with Tobio were his eyes, and the way they kept their color in both forms. Even when he was a wolf, his eyes were a pretty hazel, with flecks of brown and gold that seemed to glitter when he smiled or wagged his tail.

How was he a wolf? Was he also cursed by Oikawa? Is that why he was helping Shoyo? And how could Shoyo ask?

“Hajime-san?”

“Yeah?”

“Were you also cursed to be a wolf?”

Oh. That worked.

A strangled sound broke out of Hajime, and for a moment, Shoyo was worried that he’d deeply upset him with the question. But then the other man looked up, and revealed watering eyes and lips pressed thin against laughter. “…Hajime-san?”

“Sorry!” Hajime gasped, a laugh escaping him. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, that’s a fair question! You just reminded me of a joke To— uh, a friend used to make. No, I wasn’t cursed. Not by a person. Just cursed by my family.”

“Your family?!”

“Yeah. My father’s lineage are shifters, of any animal. But I’m the only one who shifts.”

Shoyo blinked. “…Oh. Why doesn’t the rest of your family shift?”

Bitterness sharpened Hajime’s features. “…Had you ever heard of magic being real? Before Kageyama found you?”

“I…I heard rumors, but I thought they were just stories. I could maybe believe in magical creatures, but not a human sorcerer like Oikawa-san, y’know?”

Hajime nodded, his bitterness leaning towards anger. “There’s a reason for that. Magic played an important part in the feudal wars, but once they ended, sorcerers were forbidden from using magic. Something about the risk of them using their own magic to turn on the new emperor. He cared enough about optics to not actively hunt them down, but a simple rumor would be enough for him to justify arresting someone and eventually executing them.”

As he spoke, he began massaging his hand, thumb pressing over the toughest callouses. “The old sorcerers stopped using their powers, and their descendants mysteriously didn’t inherit any magic. People assumed that meant letting magic go stagnant would be enough to eradicate it. Stupid, honestly. Magic is still around, and so are magical creatures. People just can’t see them, and anyone with any sort of powers try not to use them.”

“And…that includes shifters.”

“Exactly.”

“But you still use your powers.”

A small smile softened Hajime’s gaze. “I do. Blame it on the bad influence of a friend. Anyway, I…I imagine Oikawa has a…similar story.”

Something told Shoyo that Hajime knew a little more than he was letting on, but he was more curious about something else. “Is that why you care about him letting Tobio go?”

Hajime blinked in surprise, before smiling again, impressed. “Yeah…yeah, you could say that. Oikawa has…probably had an unfortunate life, but he has a good one now, even…even now, without…”

“Without the man he loves?”

“…Right.”

The pleasant crackling of their small fire filled the silence that fell between them as Shoyo turned Hajime’s words over. A good life without the man he loved. He supposed he could have had something similar, if he hadn’t been so determined to save Tobio. He had his mother and sister, his friends, good work and a comfortable home…everything he had before the past year. And he had been happy, content, even.

But now the lack of Tobio would be tangible and bitter. He didn’t know what their life together would look like, if Tobio would go back to being hidden away and trained to take over as daimyo. Shoyo didn’t care, as long as Tobio was safe and happy and somewhere they could sneak some time together. It was almost scary, how empty his life would be without Tobio. And he’d had a good life, practically paradise compared to what Oikawa had been through. Now, the sorcerer didn’t have the one person who had made everything bearable.

Guilt churned in Shoyo’s stomach. “…I’ll do my best, Hajime-san.”

“Hm?”

“To help Oikawa-san. I’ll do my best.”

“Hey, no, don’t say that,” Hajime said with a shake of his head. “You came all this way to save the man you love, not to make his kidnapper come to his senses. At the end of the day, that’s a choice only Oikawa can make for himself. Don’t focus on him.”

Shoyo’s stomach still churned, but he nodded his head. “…What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Will you…do anything? To help him? Maybe you could…come with me?”

This time, Hajime shook his head with a sad smile. “No. I shouldn’t. If push comes to shove, I’ll…see what I can do. Otherwise I think I might do more harm than good.”

Shoyo had known that already, but a part of him had still hoped to have someone at his side while he was in Oikawa’s home. “You’ll be okay,” Hajime insisted. “You…probably don’t want to hear this, but…you and Oikawa aren’t so different. At the end of the day, you both want to save the person you love. You just have an actual chance to do so.”

Nerves crawled up Shoyo’s spine and burned in his throat as he nodded. Hajime watched him for a silent beat, before sighing, “Well…it’s getting late. You finish eating and get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

Shoyo opened his mouth to protest and ask to take first watch for once, but all that left him was a deep yawn. “…Alright,” he huffed. “Good night, Hajime-san.”

☾

His dreams were riddled with whispers and shadows, chasing Shoyo down the familiar paths of his childhood woods, and further still into the forests of the mountains. He jolted awake before sunrise and couldn’t fall back asleep.

“Sorry,” he murmured when Hajime turned to him with a questioning frown. “Bad dream.”

Hajime hummed. “Do you want to get some more sleep?”

“Not…not really.”

“Alright.” The curve of his lips was kind and understanding. “Then let’s go. There’s not far left.”

He was technically right. The last leg of their journey was the shortest, but it also saw them climbing higher than before. It was like they left breathable air behind with the river, forcing Shoyo to slow his pace until his lungs adjusted to the thinner air.

Hajime was somehow unaffected, though Shoyo supposed that made sense, if he lived on the island. That didn’t ease his embarrassment as the other swordsman paused for a third time to wait for him to scramble up a rock. “You good?”

“M’fine,” Shoyo grunted. “How is this so easy for you?”

Hajime crooked a brow, once again looking like he was in on a joke Shoyo didn’t understand. “I’ve lived here for a while.”

“Did you rock climb the whole time?!”

This time he earned a proper laugh. “If you need help, you can just ask,” Hajime chuckled.

Shoyo finally found his footing, straightened up, and met Hajime’s eyes with a stubborn frown. “…Yeah, okay,” he sighed, letting his stubborn gaze fall away. “I’ll let you know.”

“Good. Come on, just a little higher and we’ll be there.”

Shoyo had lost count of how many times he’d said that, yet he still let himself believe him. What was the alternative? To continue dreading every part of the climb? Better to keep deluding himself.

Except this time, when Hajime pulled him up from another rock scramble, Shoyo was met with a path that passed through flatter, barren land. More confusing was Hajime’s declaration of, “We’re here.”

“W-what?” Shoyo stammered. He looked around, trying desperately to understand how on earth this could be Oikawa’s land.

“Ah, right. Here.”

Without the distraction of an oni, Shoyo was treated to a proper view of Hajime stripping away the top of his robes. His eyes instinctively skittered away from the chiseled, tan expanse of his torso, only to get caught on a splash of teal than he hadn’t noticed before.

“Put this on under your robes,” Hajime instructed as he untied the ribbon from across his chest. When he handed it over, Shoyo could see a talisman woven into the ribbon. “This’ll help you see and pass.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not the one who needs to meet with Oikawa.”

Shoyo’s mouth went dry as he stared at the offered talisman. This was real. This was happening. He was finally crossing into Oikawa’s lands, and he’d be doing it all alone.

“Hey.” His eyes drifted from the talisman to Hajime, who watched him with a small frown. “You’ll be okay. I swear. Worse comes to worst, I can be your trump card, alright?”

“Really? Can you really change his mind if I fail?”

That frown tilted into a grin, though there was still a distinct tinge of sadness to it. “Yeah. I’m sure. Now go ahead, put that on.”

Part of Shoyo wanted to stall, wanted to take his time peeling away his hanten and robes and tying the talisman underneath. But Hajime was watching him with knowing eyes, silently urging Shoyo to properly see this last leg of his journey through.

So he moved quickly, and when he looked up from resecuring his robes, his mouth dropped open.

Where there had been a flat path and barren land now stood the tall stone walls of a fortress looming over the path. It wove through the wider palace grounds, eventually disappearing behind the bend. Shoyo could just barely see the edges of some of the small buildings and homes along the way.

But all of that paled when he looked further up and saw the daunting castle looming above. Maybe he should’ve been used to the grandeur of palaces already, as a samurai, but the position of this one at the top of a mountain made it look all the more intimidating.

“Woah…”

“Yeah,” Hajime laughed softly. “Oikawa chose his place well.” When Shoyo looked back at him, he found him watching him with a small smile. Having that hazel gaze fixed on him flustered him, until he remembered that Hajime couldn’t see the palace grounds anymore, not without the talisman.

“Um…” Shoyo’s throat clicked around his gulp. “I guess I should go.”

“Yeah, you should.” Hajime stared at him for an extra beat, before suddenly reaching out and readjusting his hanten around his shoulders. “Remember why you’re here. See this through for him.”

Shoyo’s voice caught in his throat, reducing him to silently nodding. But a sudden urge washed over him, and before he could think better of it, he surged forward to wrap Hajime in a hug. “Thank you,” he mumbled into his shoulder, “for everything.”

“Don’t talk like this is over,” Hajime murmured, rubbing soothing hands down Shoyo’s back. “You better come back and tell me how everything goes. I’ll set up camp at the bottom of the mountain, alright?”

Shoyo nodded again. Then he pulled away, shared one last smile with Hajime, and began making his way up the path.

He hadn’t felt so alone in months, and he hadn’t missed it. But he forced himself to take the first step up, then another, and another. When he chanced a look over his shoulder, his heart sank to see Hajime already turned away and heading back down the mountain. He really couldn’t see through the shroud without his talisman.

If Shoyo kept his head down and focused only on the path beneath him, he could almost pretend he was back at the Kageyama clan’s palace. Sure, the grounds were much emptier and the air was thinner, but he could still pretend a little.

Then he’d look up, see the castle up above, and be abruptly reminded of what he was actually doing.

It didn’t help that the grounds were so barren. The few buildings that remained were empty and starting to break down, without any sign of fire or fighting that could explain the damage. It was just…time. Time had worn the buildings down.

It didn’t make sense to Shoyo. Hajime told him that Oikawa and Iwaizumi had made a home with a small community. So where was that community? Was Shoyo heading into some sort of ghost town of a palace? Had Oikawa driven away the rest of what circle of friends he’d built in the six years of stubborn grief? What did that mean for Shoyo, and the reception he would receive on his arrival?

Tobio…think of Tobio, remember Tobio.

For once, Shoyo welcomed the sweet pressure in his throat at the thought of his love.

“I’m not worth it, Sho.”

He was, he was, he was worth everything and more. Shoyo remembered his broken voice and desperate kisses, and thought about Tobio all alone in that castle, and just like that, his resolve chased away his nerves.

He would remind him of his worth, remind him how loved he was, if it was the last thing he did.

“Halt!”

The sudden shout brought Shoyo to a stumbling stop. He hadn’t quite reached the walls surrounding the inner grounds, but he could see a man with pink hair and sleepy eyes aiming an arrow at him. “Who are you and how are you on these grounds?”

Shoyo’s hands shot up in a gesture of peace. “M-my name is Shoyo Hinata,” he called back, voice trembling, “and I’m here to request an audience with Oikawa-sama.”

The man’s eyes widened, but his arrow stayed steadily fixed on Shoyo. “Mattsun!” he suddenly called.

“I’m going, I’m going,” came another voice from the wall. Barely a minute had passed when a small door at the base of the wall opened, revealing a man with wavy black hair and thick brows. Instead of a bow, this man—Mattsun?—had two daggers attached to his obi, which was a dark slash across his pale blue robes. As he approached, Shoyo was disgruntled by how tall he was—about the same height as Oikawa, if memory served. Was he doomed to only meet tall people on this journey?

“You shouldn’t be here,” the dark-haired man said once he came to a stop a few paces from Shoyo. “Oikawa doesn’t welcome strangers, and you shouldn’t have been able to cross onto these grounds in the first place.”

“I’m not a stranger,” Shoyo murmured, voice a bit steadier. “Oikawa-sama knows me.” He deliberately avoided answering the implied question of how he’d passed the shroud, and from the frown his answer earned him, the other man had noticed that.

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, his dark eyes flickered to Shoyo’s hair, before he suddenly turned back towards the wall and stared up at the pink-haired man. Not a word was exchanged, at least none that Shoyo could hear, but the pink-haired man’s eyes widened again as he vehemently shook his head, as though in refusal to silent request. Stranger still, the black-haired man responded with a silent shrug, spreading his hands out in front of him, to which the other man sighed and slowly nodded.

“Alright,” the man in front of Shoyo declared, turning back to him with a smug, victorious grin. “Follow me. Stay right behind me, do not wander, understand?”

“Yes, sir!” Shoyo immediately agreed. “Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” the man scoffed. “And don’t call me ‘sir.’ My name’s Matsukawa, and that’s Hanamaki.” He gestured up at the pink-haired man, who threw up his hands in clear frustration over his name being revealed. “Don’t mind him. C’mon, stay close.”

Shoyo hurried to obey, a chill running up his spine when the gates of the second wall opened to the sound of a low horn. There was a strange ripple in the air when Shoyo crossed through the gates behind Matsukawa, as though they were walking through a barrier of heat. He blinked instinctively to protect his eyes, and when they opened again, he was startled to see the complete opposite of the empty grounds he had just walked through.

The buildings he saw now looked freshly rebuilt, though not very lived-in. While it all looked prettier than the area before the second wall, it was also somewhat eerie, as though there used to be a community that suddenly vanished. “What…what is this place?”

“Hm?” Matsukawa looked over his shoulder at him, then followed his eyeline to the empty houses. “Oh, we just repaired these houses in case more people came. There’s only a handful of us, and we all live further inside.”

“Oh. And are you all…happy here?”

“Happier than we were before.”

Matsukawa didn’t elaborate beyond that, and for the first time in a while, Shoyo wasn’t sure how to continue the conversation. So he didn’t, choosing to occupy himself by looking around at the scenery. Beyond the houses, the forest continued, and his heart ached when he recognized the pine trees that had surrounded his and Tobio’s home at the foot of the mountain. He didn’t know if the familiar trees were more reassuring or foreboding. He didn’t have a chance to decide before they reached the next set of gates, and his attention was pulled away by Matsukawa calling, “Yahaba! It’s me! Open up!”

A man with dusty brown hair and an impressive frown peered over the wall. “Just go through.”

“Can’t. I’ve got the fabled samurai with me.”

Yahaba’s eyes found Shoyo and, much like Hanamaki’s, grew almost comically round. “Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Yahaba did something with his fingers, and before Shoyo’s very eyes, the gates wavered like a mirage before vanishing completely. “Alright, he should be good to go through.”

“Thank you!” Shoyo called with a quick bow. He could only hope he was successfully hiding how bewildering this entire journey through the palace grounds was.

The road beyond the gate was lined with more houses, but Shoyo was surprised by the signs of life they all held: flowers sprouted around tidy engawas, laundry hung from clotheslines and fluttered in the breeze, and smoke billowed from roofs with the scent of cooking meals.

Strangely, though, there were no people. None that made themselves known to Shoyo, at least. The most he saw were eyes and faces peering around the edges of windows or peeking through cracked-open doors. After the fifth or sixth glimpse of a face, Shoyo could resist asking, “Are they okay?”

“Hm?” Matsukawa followed his eyeline to a window, where yet another face was ducking out of view. A laugh burst from him. “Oh, sure! We’re just not used to guests around here. The horn announcing guests sounds more like a warning these days.”

“Oh…”

Matsukawa glanced over his shoulder to raise his eyebrows at Shoyo. “You’re not technically a guest, are you? You weren’t invited, after all.”

It was a fair enough observation, but Shoyo still scowled. “I told Oikawa-san I’d be here,” he muttered. “If he’s surprised, that’s his fault!”

Embarrassment flashed hot over him when Matsukawa let out a soft laugh, but then the taller man shot him a small smile. “Lots of people have threatened to show up unannounced, and none of them have succeeded. His surprise is flattering, trust me.”

“Oh.” Shoyo scuffed his feet against the ground for a few steps. “Does he remember me?”

“Oh, yes. He’s told all of us about you, Shoyo Hinata.”

Shoyo froze, breath catching in his chest and lips parting around a noiseless gasp. Matsukawa didn’t seem at all surprised by his reaction, easily coming to a stop and turning to face him properly. “Are you surprised? You shouldn’t be. You’re the reason Kageyama nearly broke the curse, and the reason he failed. Of course we know who you are.”

“Then…” Shoyo’s voice cracked, forcing him to clear his throat before continuing. “Then…you know why I’m here?”

“I do. We all do. Honestly, that’s the only reason Makki and I have been on guard duty,” Matsukawa scoffed with a disdain Shoyo knew wasn’t meant for him. “Oikawa sensed someone with magic breaching the storm around the island and approaching the palace. He wanted to make sure his strongest allies would be the first people you’d meet.”

“Strongest?!”

“That’s right.” Matsukawa smirked. “Told you. It’s flattering.”

Shoyo was quiet for a moment, before hesitantly asking, “If he has other guards…have they been fighting the oni that are on the island?”

Matsukawa betrayed no reaction, even made Shoyo unsure if he’d heard him at all, until he said in a strained voice, “Some of them, yeah.”

“If…If Oikawa has people he wants to protect here, then why is he letting oni on the island at all?”

This time, Matsukawa let out a slow breath before responding. “That…is a question only Oikawa can answer.”

“You don’t know?”

“I know part of the reason, but it’s ultimately up to him to decide who gets to know.”

“Even if I had to fight one?”

A small smirk and an impressed glint in his eye adorned Matsukawa’s expression when he glanced over his shoulder. “Did you? I guess that katana’s not just for decoration, huh?”

Shoyo’s hand automatically wrapped around his hilt. “It never was,” he declared. “I earned it, and so did my fellow samurai.”

“I’m sure.” His voice was casual, but uninterested, telling Shoyo that continuing to argue would be pointless.

So he clenched his jaw against the arguments burning on his tongue, and tried to distract himself by changing the subject. “Are…are all of these people magic users?”

“Yeah, for the most part. There’s the occasional person without magic who came here with their magic-using partner, but they’ve been able to enjoy their new lives here.”

“So he’s really not alone.”

The words escaped Shoyo a bit thoughtlessly, but he didn’t shy away from Matsukawa’s sharp stare. “What was that?”

“Oikawa. He isn’t alone. I…I thought part of his grief came from loneliness, but he has a community here.”

In the few minutes he’d known Matsukawa, he could already tell his face was usually the picture of perfect apathy. That just made the newly-thinned line of his lips all the more obvious. “All the people in the world won’t make up for his loss, no matter how hard we try.” The slightest tremble of regret and grief lined his flat words.

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

“With all due respect, Hinata-kun…you’re not the one who should apologize, and I’m not the one who should be apologized to.”

With that, they stepped into the shadow of the final walls to the main compound, within which loomed the central keep. Before Matsukawa approached the gates, he turned to Shoyo and pinned him under the full weight of his dark, heavy-lidded gaze. “Listen carefully,” he muttered, with a sternness Shoyo hadn’t heard on the entire walk up to the castle. “When we step into the main keep, you will follow me until I tell you to stop, and not a step further. I will be told to either lead you to a room to wait, or to bring you directly to the great hall. If you’re allowed to wait, then do what you can to…clean up, somehow. If not, then…well. Nothing to do, then, but hope for the best. Either way, good luck with trying to convince him to let Kageyama go. You’ll need it.”

Shoyo tried to swallow around the lump of fear rising in him, and just ended up with a sore throat. “Geez, Matsukawa-san,” he said with a weak laugh, “you really know how to cheer a guy up.”

Matsukawa’s stern expression softened just a bit around his eyes. “Figured you’d rather go in prepared than falsely optimistic.”

Fair enough. “Okay.”

After another moment of steady eye contact, Matsukawa asked, “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Follow me.”

There was one more, final shroud that shifted around them as they stepped into a hidden staircase leading up and through the final stone walls. They emerged directly into the tenshu, a startling difference from the open courtyard leading up to the Kageyama domain’s castle. The architecture of this castle seemed more like a fort, easily defended and with only hidden pathways that the rest of the grounds’ residents could use to reach the more secure central keep. Even if Shoyo hadn’t known about the dangers of Oikawa’s life, he would have been able to tell that he had chosen to rebuild this castle for protection, not to be a home.

There was still beauty to be found, though. As he tried his best to keep up with Matsukawa, he looked around at the smooth, dark wood hallway and the pristine shoji screens lining it. Some of them served as the canva for simple, yet beautiful, paintings of landscapes, simple brushstrokes that formed mountains and rivers. The further they walked, the more ornate the paintings became, with delicate dashes of animals, and then humans. Soft murmurs filtered out from behind some of them, but they didn’t see anyone else until Matsukawa led him further in. There, they ran into a young man around Shoyo’s age, with coarse black hair that stood straight up like a turnip.

“Matsukawa-san! Kyotani-san told us someone arrived!” His words balanced delicately between anxiety and urgency, only to stumble to a halt when his dark eyes landed on Shoyo. “O-oh. Is this…him?”

“Yes, this is. Have you received any instructions regarding his arrival?”

“Um…Oikawa-sama wants him to be brought straight in once any dangers have been, uh…neutralized.”

A soft huff of laughter escaped Matsukawa at the clear apprehension on the other man’s face. “Thank you, Kindaichi. May I bring him in?”

“Ah…yes? If you’re sure…I’d be perfectly capable of taking him from here.”

“Nah, that’s alright. I think we’ve bonded a bit on the walk up here, wouldn’t you say so, Hinata?”

Shoyo jolted at being so abruptly addressed and gave a jerking nod. “Yes, yeah, I…I would say so?”

“Perfect. Shall we?”

Kindaichi frowned at Shoyo for a beat, before turning and leading the rest of the way without another word. The shoji screened rooms eventually gave way to more open rooms along the hall. Where Shoyo expected to see finery displayed, he instead saw old, clearly-cherished trinkets, weapons, glazed pottery, and paintings. Some of the paintings depicted small groups of young men, while others were more like stylized portraits, set over small altars.

They were just outside of the great hall, which was sequestered away behind the only wood walls Shoyo had seen in the whole place, when he noticed it: a large, beautiful butsudan containing an ornate altar. There were candles, food offerings, and some small trinkets adorning it, but what made Shoyo freeze were the displayed dagger and the portrait that hung over it.

The dagger was held in a scabbard that was almost black, with knicks along it that exposed a lighter wood beneath the paint, and a dark teal hilt that looked unnervingly familiar to Shoyo. The portrait over it was stylized, but was still clearly of a young man with messy black hair, tan skin, and pretty hazel eyes set under slim, furrowed brows. He wore simple dark robes, and was looking somewhere outside of the canvas that made his lips curve into a secretive smile.

It didn’t make sense. It shouldn’t have been possible. But there was no doubt in Shoyo’s mind that he was looking at a portrait of Hajime…a portrait hanging as the centerpiece of an altar to the dead.

“Hinata?” His eyes jerked away from the butsudan to land on Matsukawa, who watched him with something that Shoyo couldn’t identify in the midst of his shock. “Are you ready to go in?”

Panic clamored in his chest, tightening until he couldn’t take in enough air. Was Hajime…dead? How had he been helping Shoyo? Why had he been helping? Who was he, what did he mean to these people? And…and was he the man that Tobio had accidentally killed? The implications made Shoyo’s heart freefall through his body and take all the blood with it, leaving him lightheaded.

No. No. He couldn’t get distracted by all that now. He was here, finally, steps away from Oikawa and, with any luck, moments away from seeing Tobio again. Nothing else mattered than freeing Tobio and finding the words that would make that possible.

Shoyo was sweaty, grimy, wearing stained robes and a creaking pack, but with a raised chin and a final roll of Tobio’s blue stone between his fingers, he met Matsukawa’s gaze and murmured, “Yes. I’m ready.”

[siriusanotherside]

Right nnow, some people in a Discord group really hate SDRA2 and prefer DRA much more, because they find SDRA2's writing (Both in characters and in cases) much, much worse (Like, finding Kokoro and Kanade's intelligence more like a informed attribute, and finding Yuki annoying and whiny and preferring "Yuuki" much more bc they felt his breakdown was better written), and pretty much saying they LINUJ unlearned everything he learned when he did the first game (Bc in the first game, the characters questioned the others' testimonies, and feeling that Kokoro and Kanade's clues in the first two cases on SDRA2 came too out of nowhere)

EDIT: HELLO ASK THAT HAS BEEN IN ASK HELL FOR A LONG LONG TIME. IT IS FINISHED FINALLY! First, It is valid to have preferences for whatever reason between games. And even disliking other games for A/B/C/D, as taste is taste and everybody has their preference. I also feel that the structure (and cast) of Another1 and Another2 is different enough that it can happen of one hating one and liking the other. You can also dislike a character for not-deep reasons (there are characters I dislike just because their voices make my ears hurt or because I dislike the color palette).

Idk how Discord works well, but given the intensity of this, by what I am reading in the ask, I would say to try to either block them (or something similar to filtering them) depending on how frequently they do so (like say if they are flooding the chat with it non-stop). That said given that you said it is a Discord group then… It might be easier to filter it out of your feed? like a channel thing?.

I do greatly disagree with their criticisms though.

Addressing the criticism regarding Yuki VS Yuuki.

I would disagree because while they may share the same name and near same appearance they have very different: resources, connections/friends, structure of the killing game and pressures. All of those points snowball into very different breakdowns.

Yuuki/Utsuro Killing Game (calling KG) didn’t aim at him, specifically, and he had Divine Luck protecting him against most of the worst parts of it (People he cares about always survive, never betray him; No motive targets him, specifically). All participants, as far as he knows, have sympathetic motivations for killing and are being manipulated by Monokuma. As far as Yuuki knows, this is all caused by one evil person and should they find this person, everything would be over.

Yuki KG, on the other hand, is specifically targeting him in order to cause as much suffering on him as possible. As far as He knows, the game is caused by 5 murderers who are waiting to kill them, and twice shown to be willing to betray their friends (Hajime -> Shinji / Enma -> Kokoro).

The mastermind repeatedly shows that he is invincible and can bend reality and so no one can do anything about it. Not only that, but Kanade serves to skyrock the paranoia in everyone since her trial shows that even if one person is not a Void and seems to be a meek, shy, calm, softspoken, civilian, they could still be secretly a serial killer with a very different evil agenda.

All of this creates very different mindsets.

Adding to that, Yuuki is waking his memories, and while he is horrified of it, he still has the choice on what to do regarding them. Yuki is, basically, getting another person shoved inside his head while having his personality artificially (Mikado’s AI creation thing) fluctuate between both without any input of his, continually feeling powerless.

It is notable, that at the end, Yuuki’s Horror is discovering his memories. Yuki’s horror is being replaced by someone else while discovering his body doesn’t exist anymore and he is only a brain.

Yuuki doesn’t have to deal with people he specifically bonded with, canon-wise in scenes through the story, (Akane and Tsurugi), dying. Yuki loses his best friend / big brother figure / leader figure in a horrifying way.

Monokuma allows for Yuuki group to……regroup and have moments of lightness and closure, meanwhile Yuki group doesn’t have this type of closure and are in increasingly tense and anxiety inducing sequences.(Think of Chapter 4)  

Also, Yuki has to deal with, since Chapter 3, extreme moodswings and jarring changes in his personalities as if he is disappearing. Yuuki has to deal with odd dreams, once an angry outburst he quickly assumed was due to the KG and only truly has the illusion shatter in Chapter 6.

(Ohhh nice parallel it came to me, but Yuki gets executed in spite being and knowing he is innocent of Teruya’s murder. Yuuki dodges execution despite unknowingly having a connection to Yamato’s murder.)

All of this creates two very different breakdowns and ways of dealing with it. Yuki, due to the circumstances above, gets an on-going increasing-through-chapters breakdown. Yuuki’s proper breakdown happens in chapter 6.

Yuki reacts to the constant pressure of his killing game that barely allows him to breath, by crying, by snapping, by breaking under it. Yuuki has enough moments of levity to rest and truly snaps in chapter 4, in which both him and Akane have time to address it and apologize, and 5, in which he grabs and scares Mikako due to suspicion.

One breakdown is just more openly helpless due to Yuki’s lack of agency, of hope spots between despair, and lack of resources to fight. The other is a built up for the reveal of the mastermind, which Yuuki gets agency in what to do with the information, and has Divine Luck subtlety protecting him from the worst of the killing game.

Yuuki gets to decide what he can do to what happens to him. Yuki can mostly watch in horror unable to prevent, affect or deal with what happens to him.

So, in conclusion, both breakdowns have different aims and constructions that suit each character specific arc and foreshadowing and are both greatly written. Yuki’s is just more painful to watch due to it being a reaction to his lack of agency VERSUS Yuuki’s being a build up to find out a mystery that, in the end, he is still able to have agency in it.

Addressing Kokoro’s intelligence as an informed trait

I do believe Kokoro’s intelligence shows up enough during her screentime to be shown to be a consistent trait. She identifies something is odd with Sora, she is able to read the emotions/thoughts of other people with a good deal of frequency and point out so and she tries to come up with the best choice in a sea of bad ones to deal with her problems.

Looking beyond the trial, in chapter 2, this is a constant. Her main goal is to live, which means not to anger and become a threat to the Voids and to non-Voids, so she immediately glues herself on the one person who is confirmed not to be a Void, has aversion towards killing, wants to save them, and is committed to protect them (Teruya). She tries her best to stay neutral and not interact with anyone as to not anger the Voids or show any inclination on who they are.

The clue in trial one is brought up while being consistent with Kokoro’s character presented in Chapter 1 and in chapter 2. Notably, if you do all of Hajime’s free time events, it is also consistent with that, since in them, Hajime spends a good deal of time grappling with the realization he is going to have to kill someone, and so does show a window for Kokoro to be able to be able to read his doubt and then realize that he was the killer.

Also, ultimately the clue was not just a clue thrown there and forgotten. Kokoro’s clue gave her credibility and role through the trial gave credibility to her as a very unexpected threat to the Voids that could snitch on them at any moment and would be believed by the others due to said credibility.

On why Kokoro doesn’t make the optimal choices everytime

The vibe I get / my interpretation upon seeing Kokoro arc is that Kokoro is extremely smart in the book / deductive way but lacks in terms of how to apply it. Using a metaphor, Kokoro is a doctor that can identify what you have with precision, and can suggest a treatment but flounders when it comes to applying said treatment.

Kokoro is smart in technical terms and in able identifying what other people feel to the point of being able to almost read their thoughts. But. Notably, repeatedly, she seems to lack the ability to engage with the emotions she identifies in someone else, as well as, being overwhelmed by her own emotions due to the abnormal situation she is in (Killing Game).

She can identify who the Voids are and that they want her dead, and so she scrambles to try to make herself less of a threat. Kokoro can connect the dots that if she hints or outright tells on a Void, another will kill her. She clings to Teruya due to him being the only person neutral that she can hope to protect her. 

There are different kinds of intelligence. Example: Shinji is not booksmart, but he is emotionally smart in that he can rally, motivate and comfort people. Kokoro can point out what the person is feeling and nearly thinking, but she sees it in a clinical way without engaging with said person emotions, be it by feeling them or by addressing them. As such, she can’t comfort, motivate, rally or de-escalate successfully the group.

Chapter 2 showcases this, in which Kokoro has to navigate being a threat to the voids, not wanting to die, and trying to parse her own feelings on the situation, and how to try to deescalate the situation. She fails sometimes and increases the paranoia and distress with the group both Voids and not-voids.

One moment I also think showcases this is when we look at the first trial in a Watsonian way. Kokoro is able to identify the killer, but she lacks a way to bring it up that wouldn’t derail the trial and possibly make people dubious. So she lets Sora take the reins of said trial, so that Sora can “build the road” to the conclusion.

In Enma’s case, Kokoro seemed to be overwhelmed by the situation. Kokoro knew Enma was a Void. She knew Enma was observing her. She was also shocked by the way Enma interacted with her, as if genuinely wanting to be friends and Kokoro……also started to want to trust and be friends with Enma.

Kokoro strikes me as a very lonely person who was never really approached this strongly by someone that committed to being her friend (even if with dubious reasons), and so, I think it did touch her and made her want to trust Enma.

Notably, it is during the hopeful moment, when Hibiki who previously was freaking out over the Voids, commits to try for friendship with the show, that Kokoro tries to reach out back to Enma and feels confident doing so.

However, due to the her lack of… way with her words, bluntness and generally not really great empathy, as well as the nervous-ness of the situation it went as it went. I imagine that due to Enma never really hinting at her trauma to Kokoro, Kokoro ended up underestimating the intensity of the trigger that talking about it was, and so was caught out out of guard.

In conclusion, I would say that Kokoro is smart, but that she lacks in emotional intelligence to use what she sees to propel others towards her own goals.

Addressing Kanade’s intelligence

Much like Kokoro, Kanade intelligence is a consistent trait. Is it used for evil? Yeah, but Kanade and her actions do showcase it.

Kanade creates a persona that immediately hides most of her intentions and makes people underestimate her. The facade she shows into the world is of a meek, follower, crybaby with no confidence, who is bullied by her sister. Hibiki follows it up by being loud, yelling insults at her, and seeming (and believing) to be the one taking charge of them. This makes it so people are less willing to scrutinize or pay much attention to her, seeing her with either pity or looking away.

All hints she herself gives that she may be more than she shows are fairly neutral, after all, who is going to call her out for liking horror genre? Or for staying calm while Hibiki panics upon the bodies and say she is trying to calm her?

Notably too, the person who most gives away both Kanade’s plan and abilities are not she herself, but Hibiki who talks about it in a setting where Kanade can’t stop her without throwing away her mask. (Nikei interview right in front of everyone where Hibiki talked about their synch, Hibiki complimenting Kanade skills in front of Sora).

I would also say her behavior in the first trial is consistent and that she, much like Kokoro, watches out while Sora leads them towards the right answers. And then, she doesn’t step up due to Kokoro doing so.

Third trial also does give credence to Kanade’s intelligence. Her plan may be convoluted as hell, but the crux of it, that is two people murdered someone at the same time, was intelligent and impossible to guess. The viewer might be genre aware due to knowledge of the canon-verse third trial, and guess what Kanade was aiming for, but a bunch of people who were used to the structure of 1 murderer 1 victim were very stuck on it. Even too, the clues that do point to the right conclusion are given previously by Hibiki and not Kanade.

Syobai, the person who had the most knowledge on murder also dismissed at first glance the possibility due to the perceived impossibility of that level of synchronization being possible. Mikado has to insert a fail-safe on Sora so that she refuses to end the trial with the wrong conclusion before the time arrives, and Divine Luck has to act, in order for Kanade’s plan to fail.

Kanade does starts to panic and snap more, alerting people something is off, when they start to get said clues but considering the high stakes situation, it did made sense. Her arrogance is also a clue in itself that something is off with the conclusion they were arriving, but that’s a character flaw that doesn’t negate that the plan was smart in shrouding what the true murder was.

And so, yes Kanade is smart and it is displayed consistently through the game for it to be a trait.

As for the second trial clue, given Kanade’s experience with murder, her clue seemingly comes from nowhere but serves as foreshadowing of Kanade character, as a cunning and smart person. It is the first time that Kanade blatantly breaks her facade of a meek person, by acting arrogant, insulting people and cleverly pointing out the murder’s twist, and getting rid of the roadblock of the trial. Notably, a lot of people were unsure of Kanade suggestion, but they did went with it due to finding themselves going into circles when trying to find an answer to the murder.

So yeah, due to the way it acts as a foreshadowing for chapter 3 + set up for Kanade character + people were already stuck might as well hear her out, I do think it is a valid clue.

(The thing in the trial that makes me go “my dude what” is the icicle whole deal tho.)

About Linuj.

*waves hands in a way to try to say what I mean* It is…. Hm. Eh.

TL;DR: 1 was the first fangame and so he was still getting used to doing a fangame and getting confident as he went, but still acting inside the constraints of the setting. 2 was Linuj’s more ambitious project (I mean this in a neutral observation) that diverted a lot from the common tropes and standard plot structure of a killing game.

Due to this, the games have very different vibes. It is not that he unlearned anything, but that he got more confident to tell the story he wanted to tell and the plots he had ideas for. (END TL;DR)

When I see Another1 and 2, it gives me the gut instinct that Another 1 was Linuj first dipping his toes in fangame and DR -

(Chapter 1 in particular is…feels… very safe in the sense that he followed the very very standard DR formula to the point where it feels it is DR/1 with the twist that it is played straight in that ass who murdered is an ass and saint victim is a saint. Sports guy murders girl but she wasn’t the intended victim, ball was a key point of the murder, confusion due to location etc etc)

--- And as such, even as Linuj started to get comfortable and experimenting with his writing (the following chapters) due to the set up, he still went with the common structure of the plot, that is: Despair VS Hope; standard killing order; 1 (2ish) mastermind; mastermind reveal at 6; Murders are caused by motives set up by Monokuma or blew out due to confrontation; everybody had been Hope’s Peak students and Ultimates before and had known each other.

(I mean the observation above in a neutral way (not negative or positive). I think the writing of the first game is incredibly good, a joy to watch, the twists original and gripping by their set up, but he goes with the usual structure)

In 2, Linuj gives the vibe of feeling more confident and had gotten more practice with the creation of the killing game, and so went with the vision he had and experimented with his ideas.

This caused a very different plot structure: Despair VS Hope is barely there and is a light curtain due to Mikado/Voids motive having nothing to do with it and the theming focusing more heavily on Outcomes VS Process; Murders are (mostly) pre-determined beforehand by chosen murderers; everybody are strangers actually; already revealed mastermind in 1 and technically near every chapter having one adjacent reveal.

About specifically the clue and testimonies writing

I think the clue that Kanade gives in within the story in that it serves very well its purpose of both setting up Kanade’s true character and threat and in introducing a new way to look around the murder.

Kokoro’s clue felt very in accordance with her character and her goal as well.

About testimonies…. I will be real with you chief, it has been a hot second since I saw all of the trials. I generally think that they were done ok, with shout outs to chapter 1 and 4 when it comes to it. Due to the structure of 2 (Somewhat everyone accounted for plus looking in reverse order) and 5 (3 people were all together leaving the options as: suicide, Alt Yuki possesses Yuki, Mikado did it or Iroha did it), I do understand why the testimonies were structured that way.

I think that the testimonies due to the structure of the murders between games as well as different motivations. I don’t know, they felt very natural to the trials of their respective games. Notably, I would point out that Mikako also does a testimony, not unlike Kokoro, in Chap 4, in which she sees Satsuki running away in tears out of the room and is taken as truthful.

The clues comes as character establishing moments for Kokoro and Kanade, which either impacted them in the future (Kokoro’s credibility3) or foreshadowed important points that were to come (Kanade’s true personality and threat as a clever cunning person).

So yeah.

[random-movie-ideas]

Batman Villain Movie Ideas, Part XXII: The Penguin

Oswald Cobblepot AKA The Penguin is the first of our final four, four villains who have been done and done and done again, all being mostly strong adaptations of said character. Oswald is normally portrayed as a portly funny-looking man with a bird fetish who runs the Iceberg lounge, a front for his criminal activities and a regular hangout for other villains throughout the series. I . . . don't know what Tim Burton was doing with the character. I think he combined him with Killer Croc's backstory maybe. Either way, if it weren't for Danny DeVito's stellar performance, I'd have more of an issue with his portrayal there.

Origin Movie: I think Gotham did it about right. Having him be loosely connected to the more regular mob bosses, allowing Bruce to start out taking out the crime families and such that have infested Gotham, while still having a more colorful and iconic villain rise to the top in the end.

Sequel Movie: Honestly, the origin fits him a little better, unless you're going the old Burton series of just working down through the villains by level of iconography: Joker first, Penguin or Catwoman second, yada yada. He could still work, especially if the first movie had Batman take out the bigger crime families which created a power vacuum that Penguin filled.

Finale Movie: Unless it's like a run on the Iceberg Lounge as a stronghold for all the villains, this seems like the worst spot for him.

Supporting Villain: This is basically what he's best at, and is literally what his setup with the Iceberg Lounge practically exists to do, and its likely the biggest reason for his remaining as prolific as he has. He is a great supporting villain.

Overall, here are my rankings of them:

Supporting Villain: He's really good at it.

Origin Movie: The best way to do a grounded "take on crime" origin while still having an iconic villain.

Sequel Movie: Not as great, but it's there.

Finale Movie: If he is anything, he is not a finale villain.

What do you think? Who should I cover next?

[withahappyrefrain]

https://withahappyrefrain.tumblr.com/post/681614607965683712/yall-got-any-more-blondepeter-or-dilfpeter

…who says dilf peter can’t be blonde….

Anon, you are absolutely right. We shouldn't limit ourselves.

Summary: Peter brings back an old hairstyle you haven't seen in years. It brings back a lot of uh, urges.

Warnings: blonde DILF teacher!Peter (proceed w/ caution folks), afab!reader, Peter being an amazing girl!Dad, Daddy kink, breeding kink, and oral (f receiving)

"So there's something you should know." You looked up at your husband from the array of goat soaps you were looking at. The four of you were in the midst of your weekly farmer's market visit. You adjusted Sophie so she was resting on your hip.

"What did you say your students could do?"

Over the years, the details had changed, though the message remained the same. Back when you first met Peter, it would have been "What did you say your fraternity could do?" Post college, it changed to "What did you tell Miles he could do?"

Now that things had settled down (as much as they could with a four year old and two year old), you knew when Peter prefaced with that sentence, it usually had something to do with his high schoolers.

"So I told them how back in the day, I had blonde hair for most of college," He started.

"Daddy had blonde hair?" Sophie asked, resting her head against your chest.

"He did! And I take it that they wanted to see pictures," You said, looking at Peter.

"They did. So I showed them some old pictures and...." Peter paused, "And we made a bet."

"Dadda bet," Olivia babbled. Your two year old was perched on Peter's shoulders, playing with his hair. Peter said he kept it long because he looked good with it, but you knew it was because he loved having the girls play with it.

"What's a bet?" Sophie asked, not looking up from observing the necklace you had on.

"A bet is when you say you'll do something if another thing happens. If that thing doesn't happen, you don't have to do what you said you'll do," You explained to your preschooler.

You looked back at your husband, "So what did you bet with your students? Please tell me it doesn't involve me making dessert for them again." You winced at the memory of having to make over one hundred sugar cookies.

"I told them if over eighty percent of them got a B plus or higher on their chemistry exam, I'd let them dye my hair." It wasn't the worst bet Peter had agreed to (you still had trauma from when he shaved his head senior year of college).

"Well, your chemistry exams are known for being killer. So your hair should be safe," you went back to looking at the soaps, knowing Peter would assure you that you were right.

Except he didn't.

You looked up to find him making that 'please don't be mad at me I'm so cute' smile he always tried to use to soften you up.

"Peter......" You said in a warning tone. It was one word, but it screamed 'You better reassure me right now'. He continued to stare at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes. Despite years of being together, it still made your heart flutter.

"....When are they dying your hair?" You finally asked.

"Tomorrow during class." He put his hands on Ollie's hips, lifting her off his shoulders and resting her against his chest. Your toddler looked so small against his broad chest.

"Aren't you supposed to be....teaching?"

"Dying hair is all about chemicals and reactions! It's totally educational!" He paused, "Besides if my principal comes in, I'll just tell her I'm building relationships with my students. It is one of my strong suits."

You rolled your eyes, "Yes because you allow them to dye your hair!"

"Is Daddy gonna have new hair?" Sophie asked, "What color is it?"

"Yes, Daddy," you gritted the name, "What color will it be?"

Peter smirked, "It's a surprise!"

"Surprise surprise," Ollie babbled, playing with the strings of Peter's hoodie.

Well, at least you couldn't say life was boring in the Parker household.

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The next morning, you rested your head on Peter's chest, savoring the few moments of quietness the two of you would get before your alarm would go off, waking up your two energetic children in the process.

"I'm going to miss you," you said longingly, staring at the brown lock you had twisted around your finger.

"I'm dying my hair, not going off to war," Peter remarked, rolling his eyes.

"Just promise me you won't shave it off. You'll just let it grow out, okay?"

"Wow, I see someone is still traumatized from when I shaved my head senior year," Peter rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you closer to his chest.

"Maybe if someone had given me a heads up that they were shaving their head, I wouldn't be so traumatized." You still remembered the horror that ran through your body when you came in that day to find Peter sitting in a chair, half of his hair gone, and Miles on the counter with an electric razor in hand.

"I told you I was getting a haircut."

"A haircut and shaving off your head are two different things, Parker," Peter wiggled his eyebrows at your old nickname for him.

"I promise, I won't shave it off….only if you promise that you'll trim my hair while it grows out."

"Deal." You eyed your alarm clock, which was due to go off any second.

"Today's your day of meetings, right?" Peter asked. As much as you joked about how scatterbrained he could be sometimes, he did a better job at keeping track of important dates than you.

"Yup, so you'll have to pick the girls up from daycare."

He smiled, "They'll get to see the new hair before you." Peter pressed a kiss into your temple.

"I'm sure they'll be very excited," you giggled, "Now c'mon Dad, it's time to get up."

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As you fished for the keys to your apartment, you could hear the sound of your daughters' laughter coming from inside. Based on the muffled noises you could hear, you assumed they were playing 'Spider-girls' and Peter was playing the villain.

When you found out your second child was another girl, Peter joked it was karma for his fraternity days. It was clear as day that he loved Sophie and Ollie with all his heart and then some. When you were pregnant with Sophie, you knew he was nervous about whether he would be a good father.

"Peter, if I had any doubts about that, do you think I would have allowed you to get me pregnant?" You told him at the time. It wasn't until he held Sophie for the first time that his doubts faded away. Within three months of her birth, Peter was asking if you two could "have another Sophie".

While Ollie was way more outgoing and loud than Sophie, you wouldn't have your family be any other way. You found your keys and began unlocking the door, embracing whatever chaos was inside.

Sophie and Ollie were on one side of the couch. Both were giggling despite having a finger up to their mouths to tell the other one to be quiet. You could see Peter was on all fours, only his long legs visible as they were sticking out of the couch.

"Bring me the Spider girls!" You heard Peter say, his voice deep and cartoonist. You quietly put your bag down, not wanting to interrupt the game. Your daughters couldn't contain their laughter.

Spider Girls was their current favorite game. It always involved Sophie and Ollie being "Spider-Girl" and saving the city, just like "How Daddy used to do with Uncle Miles!" Sometimes you played the citizen who needed help. Almost always, Peter was the big bad villain.

Sophie and Ollie quietly (their version of quiet) backed away from the couch. Peter's legs disappeared, you could hear the sound of his hands slamming against the carpet, alerting the girls that the "big bad man" was getting closer.

"I got you two now!" Your eyes widened when a blonde Peter popped out from the couch.

Fuck.

He was blonde again. His students dyed his hair blonde.

It was a strange sight. You felt like you were looking at a different Peter, the one you met in college. Except instead of smoking a blunt and trying to crudely flirt with you, he was now pretending to be under a hug attack from Sophie and Ollie.

Memories started flooding back. Memories of when you first met him, when the two of you were paired for a chemistry project, when he pushed you up against the wall and made out with you after watching you dance, memories of how he threw you on your bed and-

"Mommy!" Sophie's voice broke you out of your less than pure thoughts. You smiled, kneeling down so you were at eye level with your girls, who were running towards you.

"Did you girls beat the big scary man?" You asked excitedly. They nodded their heads. You looked over at Peter, who was running a hand through his now blonde hair. You couldn't get over the sight.

"I don't know…..I don't think we have him beat yet," you whispered loudly.

"What we do?" Ollie asked.

"Looks like you need," you took your hair out of your ponytail, doing a dramatic hairflip that caused your girls to erupt into giggles, "Spider-Woman! Let's get him!"

You herd your daughters over to Peter, who didn't even try to pretend to put up a fight. He let his three favorite girls gently pin him down to the floor (he still retained his super strength, despite hanging up the red and blue costume after Ollie's birth).

"Not a triple hug attack! I'm doomed!" Peter said in-between laughs.

"We did it! We saved the city!" Sophie said. She was the first one to get up. Ollie quickly followed, running after Sophie who was now heading towards their shared room.

You, on the other hand, continued to lay on top of your husband, resting your forehead against his.

"Hi," He whispered, unable to contain his smile.

"Hi," you replied. You tilted your head back, your eyes trailing up to take in the hair. You were impressed with the quality of a dye job his students had done. Far better than Miles' work back in college (not that you'd ever tell him that).

"Do you like the hair?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You reached out a hand, running it through his now much lighter locks.

"I feel like I've been transported back in time," you paused, "Though I can't see college you playing Spider-Girls willingly."

Peter laughed, "Brings back a lot of memories, huh?"

You rolled off of him, allowing him to sit up. You leaned back against the couch, taking in the sight.

"It does. Like when I found out for my big Chem 201 project, I had gotten paired with the douchey frat bro who sat five seats down from me," you smirked.

Peter shook his head, getting on his hands and knees so he could crawl over to you. You couldn't say it felt like a predator stalking it's prey. After all, what kind of prey opens their legs to let the predator in?

"Really? That's what you thought of?" He asked. You knew the answer he wanted to hear. But despite ten years of being with Peter and two children with him, you still weren't going to give in easily.

“That’s a core memory for me, I was so pissed off!” You paused, grinning, “It also…officially introduced me to my future husband and father of my children, I guess.”

“I guess,” Peter repeated, rolling his eyes. You leaned in, decreasing the distance of your lips but not closing the gap all the way.

“What memories were you hoping I would recall?” You asked slyly.

“Oh….I don’t know,” He paused, pretending to be deep in thought, “Maybe that time you and I finished the keg at the spring mixer….or maybe that time I made out with you in front of that rando who wouldn’t stop flirting.”

Peter leaned in, his lips ghosting over your’s, “Or maybe that time I fucked you senselessly in a coat closet.”

Your breathing had become heavy. Peter’s lips brushed over your’s. You leaned forward to close the gap. Whether it was his “Spidey-sense” or his need to tease you, he leaned back.

“Aww, is someone now horny?” The hair combined with that infamous smirk and teasing tone made you feel like you were at some frat house again, with Peter cornering you so you couldn’t escape his grasp.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sure, you two were married and you could have just easily told him yes, that you wanted him to fuck you up against a wall. But where was the fun in that?

“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten sweetheart, but I know when you’re turned on. I can smell it,” He leaned in to begin sucking on the spot right below your ear.

Fuck if that nickname didn’t bring back a whole lot of hot memories.

Your actions from reminscenting of those specific, spicy memories were cut short by the sounds of Sophie and Ollie arguing.

“You know, sometimes I miss the days where the reason we got interrupted was because someone had to use the bathroom,” Peter muttered as he got up. He stuck out a hand to help you get up.

“Let’s hurry before they start fighting on the ceiling again,” You said, picking up the pace of your walk. Having three people in your house with Spider-like abilities was….interesting to say the least. Luckily, Peter was there to crawl up and grab the girls if needed.

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After breaking up the fight your children were having on the ceiling, things calmed down enough in the Parker household for you and Peter to make dinner.

It didn't stop Peter's hand from lingering on your body. You shot him a knowing look.

"What?" He gave that fake innocent look, "I can't admire my beautiful wife and mother of my children?"

"You need to be good and help me cook dinner, Daddy." Based on the sharp exhale, the way you whispered the name did exactly what you wanted.

Peter placed his hands on your hips. He pressed your hips against his. You could feel his growing erection against your ass.

"I'm always a good Daddy for you," Peter whispered, his breath hot in your ear.

"Then tell me what this sauce is missing," You held up a spoon to him. Peter took the spoon up to his mouth. He wasn't giving up on you yet.

"Paprika."

He was just going to wait.

"How did I forget that?" You asked yourself out loud, grabbing the spice and giving it a couple of shakes over the pot.

"Should we tell them there are veggies in this sauce?" Peter whispered. You shook your head.

"Let's wait until Ollie is four. I think by then they'll still eat it after we tell them the recipe."

"Yeah, but then would Ben still eat it?" Peter asked, concern written all over his face, assuming you knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Ben? Who's Ben?"

"Either the name of our only son or of the male dog I'm getting after the birth of Annie Grace Parker so I'm not the only man in the house," he said before taking a sip of his wine.

You laughed as you stirred the pasta sauce, "I just want to remind you that it was you who asked for another daughter after Sophie was born." With Ollie getting closer to turning three, the idea of trying for a third child was getting brought up more and more often.

"Yes, and I'm quite thankful that happened," he pressed a kiss to your temple, "and now I'd love to have a son."

"I'll tell that to my uterus during my monthly meeting with them," you retorted.

"What's a uterus?" Sophie asked as she walked into the kitchen, Ollie quickly behind her.

"It's a body part that you don't have to worry about for many years," you explained to your eldest.

You and Peter got your daughters situated at the table and began serving dinner. Throughout, your eyes kept looking up to Peter’s hair. It was….odd. He hadn’t been blonde in years. And yet, the hairstyle brought back so many memories.

“Do you like Daddy’s new hair?” Sophie asked. Peter raised his eyebrows at you before taking another bite of his food.

“I do,” You smiled at your oldest, as your eyes met Peter's. He wiggled his eyebrows, a gleam in his eyes nothing short of mischievous.

"You know, Daddy looked like this when he met Mommy," Peter explained. Sophie giggled.

"Did you think Daddy was pretty?" She asked you. You smiled at the question, looking at your husband.

"I did….amongst other things." You winked at Peter. Your daughters didn't need to know about the disdain you had for Peter when you two first officially met.

Or that you wanted to fuck the smirk right off his face.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, saved for the ass grab from Peter while doing the dishes. The two of you helped Sophie and Ollie get ready for bed.

You smiled at the sight of Peter playing with Ollie's hair as he tucked her into bed. Your toddler stuck a hand out, motioning to Peter's hair. He leaned down, allowing Ollie to attempt to imitate his motions.

After a few bedtime stories and many forehead kisses, the girls were finally asleep. You closed their bedroom door quietly.

You turned around, about to make a comment to Peter when the next thing you knew, your feet were off the ground. It took you a few seconds to realize Peter had picked you up and slung you over his shoulder.

"What are-" your sentence was cut off by a firm smack on your ass.

"We just put them to sleep, you really want to wake them up?" Peter growled, "Or would you rather I fuck you?"

You nodded your head.

"What was that sweetheart? Couldn't hear ya?" Peter smirked as he walked down the hall with you, getting further away from your children's bedroom and closer to yours.

You mumbled an answer, hoping it would be enough.

The second smack across your ass told you it wasn't.

It also told you it was going to be one of those nights.

"Gotta answer me sweetheart," Peter reminded you, his tone mocking. He was standing right outside your bedroom, his hand on the doorknob.

“I want you to fuck me, Daddy,” You whispered, loud enough so he could hear it.

The sharp exhale through Peter's nose told you that was exactly what he wanted to hear. He opened your bedroom door and quickly closed it.

He gently put you down on the bed (while you liked being manhandled, Peter knew you didn't like feeling like a ragdoll).

“Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you?” He sat down next to you, leaning over. You reached up to run a hand through his newly colored hair.

“Since this morning?” You asked, a smirk appearing on your face.

“The hair brought back a lot of memories,” Peter hooked his fingers onto the waistband of your sweats, “Memories of me fucking you, specifically.”

“Gee, couldn’t,” You held back a gasp when you felt the cool air hit your core, “tell.”

“Oh please, like you haven’t been thinking about it. That cunt’s been soaked for the last two hours,” Your eyes widened at his words. The fact he was saying this while taking off your sweats and underwear so casually drove you wild.

“I….I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter spread your legs apart. He leaned over, his lips hovering over your’s.

“You know Daddy wins this game every time, right?” He whispered, “Just admit you’re a slut already.”

You raised an eyebrow at Peter’s word. “I’ve said way worse.” He defended.

“You’re not wrong, considering the things you said when we were trying to conceive,” You tried to ignore Peter’s fingers that were trailing down your stomach. It wasn’t really working but you were caring less and less as time went on.

“I just really like the idea of fucking a baby into you, can you blame me?” Peter’s fingers slipped into your cunt easily. You bit your bottom lip, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

You couldn’t think of a response. Instead, you focused on how sinful it looked to see Peter adjust himself so that his head was in between your legs.

You didn’t get to enjoy the sight for very long, as he angled his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside of you, causing you to throw your head back. Peter’s mouth latched onto your clit, eliciting a whine out of you. You quickly turned your head so your mouth was covered by the pillow.

“I thought you were going to fuck me,” You whined.

Peter looked up, the lower half of his mouth wet, “We’ve been together for over ten years. You know the rules: Daddy eats that pretty little cunt of yours first, and then you get fucked.”

You knew the rules. You just liked hearing Peter say them.

As he pushed you closer and closer to the edge with his mouth and fingers, the grip you had on his hair tightened. A particularly strong tug earned a deep, guttural moan from Peter.

You buried your face with a nearby pillow as you came, doing your best to conceal your moans. You could feel Peter's hands move up to pin down your thrashing hips, his tongue still trying to get every last drop.

"Fuck me. Please. Please fuck me Daddy," You whined. He was right, you had been horny all day as well. In the back of your mind, you also knew time was of the essence as a parent and you wanted to get fucked before getting interrupted.

Peter reached over to the draw in your nightstand, fishing around for a condom.

"Don't." He looked at you, his eyes wide.

"Are…..you sure?" He asked. It was clear as day that he was trying to contain his excitement.

You nodded, a smile forming, "Ollie will be three years old in two months and she's about as potty trained as an almost three year old can get."

"She was telling me yesterday that she wants to be a big sister like Soph," Peter grinned as he closed the draw.

"You sure you weren't just projecting there Parker?" You teased.

"You gonna let me put a baby in ya?" He whispered.

"Can't guarantee it'll be a son but-"

"You know I don't fucking care," Peter crashed his lips onto yours. Without breaking away, he awkwardly pushed down his sweats.

You titled your head back at the sensation of the tip of his cock pushing into you, beginning to stretch you out and-

"Daddy? Mommy?"

You two froze, looking at each other, hoping you both just simultaneously imagined hearing Ollie's voice.

That hope was dashed when you heard a little knock on the door.

"Where did our kids get their impeccable timing because it sure as hell wasn't from me," Peter whispered.

"Daddy! Mommy!" You heard Ollie's voice again, this time more urgent.

"What is it baby?" You asked, trying your best not to sound annoyed. Peter regretfully pulled out and pulled up his pants.

"Can't sleep."

"I'll get her," Peter said, trying to adjust his sweatpants so his erection wasn't as obvious.

"Daddy's coming, okay bug?" Peter said.

"Okay Daddy." You heard Ollie say on the other side of the door.

Peter leaned over, his mouth on your ear, "You're going to wait right here and when I get back, I'm going to fill you up over and over again until there's a baby inside that belly, alright?"

You nodded your head eagerly.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 305: Worst Intervention Ever

Previously on BnHA: Shinomori, whose name took me an entire week to memorize, was all, “nice to meet you Deku, I’m ten feet tall, do you want to know how I died?” and without waiting for an answer explained that he kicked it from old age at forty thanks to good ol’ OFA. Deku was all “wait a minute, then how come All Might, who’s fifty-five and is definitely dyeing his gray hair, is still alive?” First and Shino were all, “we really have no fucking clue but we think it’s cuz he’s quirkless, JUST LIKE YOU!” So basically, since quirkless people don’t exactly grow on trees these days, Deku is probably going to be the last user of OFA. The chapter ended with Nana being all, “psst, Deku, about my grandson. Uh, can you kill him?” which is sure to lead to a very interesting conversation this week.

Today on BnHA: Nana And The Gang are all “so, Deku, how can we put this delicately. The thing is, we’re pretty sure that AFO really fucked my grandson up, so on the off chance you can’t save him, how would you feel about, you know... [throat slitting gesture].” Deku is all “idk you guys, I kinda feel like he’s really just a traumatized child at heart and he’s in a lot of pain and stuff and so I should try to help him.” The Vestiges are all “BUT WHAT IF YOU CAN’T” and Deku is all “BUT I WANT TO TRY, DAMMIT” and the Vestiges are all “well when you put it that way, we, uh, were just testing you, so congrats, you passed!” The chapter ends with First being all, “ANYWAY SO WHY DON’T YOU TWO SHY BOYS STANDING OVER THERE IN THE SHADOWS COME SAY HELLO” before we CUT AWAY FOR ANOTHER WEEK, goddammit.

seriously, Nana

just... have you met Deku?? look, if you really want Tomura dead, just sic him on the U.A. first years and tell Shouto and Honenuki that it’s a training exercise

oh my god lmao

we’re too far away to see Nana’s face here so I will just assume that she turned and is staring DIRECTLY INTO THE CAMERA for this one line lmao. “I just wanted to clarify in case anyone felt inclined to take my dialogue out of context and spend an entire week complaining about it”

oh my god?! are you all purposely trying to make me sad??

someone stop me before I launch into an impromptu rant about all my Tomura feels. WHY IS NOBODY STOPPING ME. oh my god but yes, exactly. he’s just in pain all the time. this is exactly why I think Tomura has such high redemption potential even though so far he seems to lack so many of the redemption arc essentials such as feeling remorse, wanting to change, and taking responsibility for his actions. the reason why I’m willing to overlook all that in his case is because Tomura has essentially had zero agency his entire life. AFO molded him into a killer by making sure he was in constant mental agony, and making it so that the only thing that even slightly relieved that agony was killing peeps. like, please don’t think I’m making excuses for him or anything, but if you take a child and manipulate their existence to make it virtually impossible for that child to grow up as anything other than a killer, and basically never give him the chance to be anything else, then no shit he’s gonna be a killer?? he’s basically never had the choice not to be. it’s never been an option for him. anyways I feel like I am EXPLAINING MYSELF SO BADLY but nonetheless I am prepared to die on this hill

anyway so now Nana is all “that’s a rhetorical question btw because Our Hearts And Minds Are One so we can feel everything you feel bro.” so yeah, that’s interesting

now Banjou is getting started on the “let’s try and talk Deku out of wanting to save Tomura because it’s insane” part of their OFA Mystical Space Void Reunion agenda

look, Banjou, I feel you, I really do. you guys don’t think it’s realistic that Deku can defeat Tomura without killing him. so if it’s a choice between killing Tomura vs letting Deku and everyone else in the entire world die, then duh, you think Deku should kill him. I get it! and if this were a real life mass murderer I’d totally agree with you. but the problem is that this isn’t real life, this is a sympathetic shounen villain with a tragic past who might as well have FUTURE REDEMPTION ARC RECEIPIENT stamped on his forehead at this point

so First is all “look, there’s absolutely no doubt my brother has fucked this kid up good and proper by now”, which, again, fair

though, that’s kind of exactly my point though. everything that Tomura is, everything he’s done, he’s done because of AFO. AFO has so effectively shaped his personality and his worldview by this point that it’s all but impossible to penetrate that. he’s AFO’s puppet. but the problem is that rather than treating him like a victim, you all are treating him like a casualty. like he’s already a lost cause. but good luck trying to convince Deku of that

WHOA WHAT, RANDOM SUPER-IMPORTANT AND BIZARRELY UNRELATED EXPOSITION DROPPED IN JUST LIKE THAT??

way to still not reveal Sixth’s name, btw. THE PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW, DAMMIT. but also so this confirms something we basically already knew already, which is that not even AFO can steal OFA. it literally can’t be taken away by anyone unless the owner wills it. SO SUCK ON THAT AFO YOU EGG

(ETA: so I have no idea why this was omitted from this translation, but apparently the Sixth’s name was revealed as “En”, which is obviously not his full name but at least it’s something. also he most likely has a fire or smoke-related quirk based on the kanji used, 煙.)

so Banjou is saying that Deku’s “lack of an iron will” could be a disadvantage against AFO. hahaha what?? Midoriya “I’ll break all of my bones without blinking an eye just to protect someone” Izuku lacks an iron will? do tell

he says this is going to be a test of Deku’s determination. well yeah, no shit. but just not in the way you guys think

OH HELLO AGAIN

darker hair again here! but I don’t trust the contrast in these scans at all after last week. his coveralls are way darker than they looked before too, and you can clearly see he’s standing in the shadows now

(ETA: yep, once again the raw shows that his hair is considerably lighter than what’s shown in these scans here. although there’s no mistaking now that his hair is consistently being colored in this slightly darker shade, and it’s not just the lighting.)

anyways lol First was saying something about how AFO can’t steal OFA, and they’ve spent all this time cultivating it as the ultimate weapon against AFO, and blah blah blah. go on then, keep lecturing

NANA GODDAMMIT NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT

girl what?? you did everything in your power to protect your family, and AFO, fucked up man that he is, targeted them anyway. there is one person and one person only to blame for what’s happened to Tomura, and that potato-faced asshole needs a good kick in the balls

NANA GODDAMMIT DON’T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE

SO HELP ME GOD!! I WILL GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST HUG YOU’VE EVER HAD!! THAT IS A THREAT

so now Nana is all “I’m just going to call my grandson a Thing to ensure that fandom has only the freshest, grass-fed no-hormones-added discourse this week”

I don’t even need to drop into the tags to know exactly which specific people are going to respond to this, and what kind of posts they are going to write lmao. everyone’s all caught up in the “that thing”, and meanwhile I’m over here completely hung up on this “nay” that’s appeared out of NOWHERE you guys. look at that. she really said “NAY”

Nana, my love, my dearest, I feel you girl I really do. but he’s not an unforgivable manifestation of pure evil, Deku is exactly right actually, he’s a boy in pain. you guys need to stop questioning Deku’s shounen protagonist instincts here and just let him work his sparkly magic. “let’s try and convince Midoriya Fucking Izuku that he can’t save someone” is a plan that is NEVER going to turn out well you guys

“DEKU GODDAMMIT WHAT IF WE CAN’T SAVE HIM” lmao it’s like an intervention

“DAMMIT DEKU JUST ADMIT YOU HAVE A SAVING PEOPLE PROBLEM!”

RED ALERT IT’S ANOTHER CLOSE-UP OF THE BACK OF MISTER TWO BON CLAY’S HEAD OMG

(ETA: I was too distracted with freaking out about Two and Three to really appreciate how ridiculously handsome First looks in this panel. but on my second readthrough it stood out so much that I had to go back and add an extra bullet point just to talk about how hot he is. look at him. wtf.)

THAT IS DEFINITELY AN UNDERCUT. THE PLOT THICKENSSSS. also those are fucking exhaust vents on Mister Three’s neck. MISTER THREE COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE RELATED TO THE IIDAS, PLEASE TELL ME YOUR SECRETS I’M DYING OVER HERE

so now Deku is launching into what will undoubtedly be a “saving people problems require SAVING PEOPLE SOLUTIONS” heroic counter-speech!

I mean, they can already feel the “lol nah I’m gonna try and save him” feelings running through him lol. ~OuR hEaRtS aNd MiNdS aRe CoNnEcTeD~ and all that. this is just a formality, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love a good shounen protag speech

oh wait hold up, do you mean to tell me that the whole “hearts and minds are connected” thing I was just mocking just a paragraph ago actually allowed Deku to feel what Tomura was feeling?? like literally feel it??

YET AGAIN these Tomura feels are pounding on my front door you guys?? they just will not quit?? people my house is already full of feels, does it look like I need you to sell me any more of them?? -- what do you mean, they’re free??

AW YISS THAT’S IT DEKU. THAT’S SOME GOOD SPEECH RIGHT THERE

I appreciate the contrast here between the Douchebag Triumvirate of Overhaul, Muscular, and Stain versus the Misguided Twosome of Gentle and La Brava. never let it be said that Deku doesn’t know the difference between a redeemable villain and an unredeemable one

OH NO -- OH MY GOD

someone please help me I need directions to the OFA Spooky Galactic Nebula Realm in this fictional Japanese manga land. it’s not on google maps. I need to give these two babies a big hug and wrap them up in a blanket and treat them to some McDonalds Happy Meals please help

other things: (1) ENDEAVOR CHILLING OUT IN DEKU’S “PEOPLE I HOLD DEAR” PANEL LMAO NEON DISCOURSE EXTRAVAGANZA, (2) “ONE FOR ALL IS A POWER TO SAVE, NOT TO KILL” I’M ABOUT TO CRY DEKU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HOW IS IT EVEN POSSIBLE TO FEEL ALL THIS LOVE, (3) [SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] THERE’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING IRON WILL!!!!!!!! -- I’m sorry, please don’t call security, I’ll be good

I just randomly remembered that Deku is still saying all of this in his muffled “FMMPHHMMPHMM” voice and I’m somehow cracking up lol. so actually it’s a very good thing Their Hearts And Minds Are Connected, otherwise they’d no doubt be all, “...what?”

(ETA: so I completely missed this on account of it literally not being visible in the scan at all, but in the raw you can clearly see Baby Kacchan and Baby Shouto fanboying over All Might in two of these panels, and excuse me, ma’am??

thank you very much Deku for including them in your montage, particularly since you’ve never seen Baby Shouto before lol. amazingly accurate image you managed to conjure up, all things considered.)

SDKFJLSKHG -- AS IF ON CUE???

HE’S SO ADORABLE HELP?? Trippy Space All Might looks like he’s about to cry, and First is all “don’t crack a smile... you have to be Firm and Serious here... dammit, don’t smile” omg

anyways! YOU GO DEKU. “MY QUIRK MY RULES, BITCHES” damn, son

KLJLKKHLG TRIPPY SPACE ALL MIGHT LITERALLY ACTUALLY IS CRYING ALL MIGHT HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

“I JUST... [CLENCHES FIST] REALLY LOVE SAVING PEOPLE” FUCKING HELL LMAO THIS IS THE WORST INTERVENTION OF ALL TIME

Deku is literally all “sure, maybe I’ll have to kill him, but have you guys also considered, MAYBE NOT??” it’s no use Nana he’s too powerful

LMAO FIRST

“like I’ve been saying this whole time, you should definitely try saving Shigaraki Tomura.” “but, uh... First, didn’t you just -- ” “shut up”

(ETA: clearly it’s not just his brother who inherited those smooth-talking genes.)

so now Deku has turned back into a sixteen year old and his clothes have gone missing again. just OFA things

dskljdlsklgk

yes... sure... “testing” you...

HEY

FIRST OF ALL, DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI YOU MADE NANA CRY. even if I’m pretty sure they’re actually tears of happiness/relief. and SECOND OF ALL, “TELL MY BOYFRIEND I SAID HI” DJSKDLKJJL ANYWAY MAYBE GRAN, NANA, AND MR. SHIMURA WERE IN A THROUPLE

[SCREAMS]

WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE?? WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE!!!!!

(ETA: and two-to-one odds that we cut away to some other scene once they finally start to turn around next week. I’M CALLING IT NOW. giving myself a week to brace myself for the rage.)

fucking hell. well if anyone needs me I will be adding Horikoshi fucking Kouhei to the list of irredeemable villains, peace

[blazedrawsstuff]

Introducing: Selene Wicked!, beauty queen of the Wicked Wax Museum. 

Selene Wicked

Daughter of the Sybil Wicked

Parent

Sybil Wicked

Age

16

Killer Style

Dark and elegant, a nice spider web or two refines the look tremendously.

Freaky Flaw

Appearance means everything to me, a single smudge on my face, or a stain on my clothes and I feel obliged to fix the mistake post haste. I will not settle for anything less than perfection.

Pet

I'm afraid pets aren't allowed in the museum, I suppose you could consider the animal exhibits pets...but alas, they aren't alive. At least...as far as I know.

Favorite Activity

I have grown fond of researching all matter of topics based on the exhibits in the museum. For instance, I suppose you didn't know Alexander the Great was accidentally buried alive. He a disorder where the immune system attacks the nerves, hence the false declaration of his death. Now you know.

Pet Peeve

Look but don't touch! My face is a spectacle to behold, but I do NOT wish to have it ruined by anything shape or form!

Favorite Subject

History, as I live in a museum, I am quite knowledgeable about past events. Mad Science too, it's interesting to think what science can do for your looks.

Least Favorite Subject

Volcanology, fire does not bode well for my wax-made body...

Favorite Colors

Black, purple, and red

Favorite Food

While I have no need to consume food, I do have an inclination towards caramel and cheese cubes, as they resemble the wax melts used for the exhibits.

Friends

Frankie Stein

Hoodude Voodoo

Robecca Steam

Personality

Selene is sophisticated and polite, as well as pretty intelligent. Educated in a wide range of history topics due to living in the wax museum. There are times when she switches from rather quiet to talkative when said history subjects are brought up.

Selene is very protective or her face, and will do anything to keep it protected from harm or blemishes. As such, she will sharply stop any advances to touch or otherwise mess with her face.

She obsessed over her looks and thus is a perfectionist when it comes to her appearance. Should her outfit or face be stained or disfigured, she will drop whatever she is doing and rush to the bathroom to fix the mistake or change (hence why she has multiple copies over her outfits in her locker and closet.).

At worst, she is prone to jealousy and spite when she perceives someone as more "beautiful" than her.

Trivia/Additional Information

Selene's name means "Moon", specifically this is referencing the "Waxing Gibbous Phase" of the moon, which is when the moon goes from it's first quarter phase to the full moon phase.

She does not like messy food (such as Ribs or Powdered Donuts), and will often either eat them very carefully or with cloth around her neck.

Selene's birthday is December 9th. The month of her birthday is based on the month "Welcome to The Wicked Wax Museum" (Sybil Wicked's debut book) was published. While the day was based on the release of the third issue of the comic "Download and Die" (May 9th), Sybil's most recent appearance. This also makes her a Sagittarius.

Her favorite season is Winter, while her least favorite is Summer. The latter due to the threat of melting by the suns heat during the season.

Her headcanon voice is Erica Luttrell, who voiced Sapphire on Steven Universe. Erica is also Canadian-born and has played roles for the Goosebumps tv series (as Kim in "Piano Lessons Can Be Murder" and Drew Brockman in "Attack of The Jack-O'-Lanterns").

Her internet username is Candle_Queen, which is a reference to the song by GHOST

[hobiscloset]

@punkrockbrokemy--heart submitted a request for us to roast these looks. Thanks for the visually induced trauma bestie! Guest-starring the amazing @textsfrombangtan (marked as L)

E - Let's go from left to right on the top picture. A - it's just all so bad! im having a mild breakdown about this whole picture

Jimin E - so you know theater kids? A - Yeah, you and me E - Hey! but it's true. this is theater kid but in the early 80s late 70s. paint-splattered jeans and a flannel layered A - oh you are correct. it's not tech week though E - yeah this is during set building

Jhope N - Jorts is just going to a highlighter party A - he's a village people stan. before the word stan existed. so a village people groupie L - i'm not entirely convinced he isn't a village person A - its not a coherent enough theme to be a village person in this fit L - fair enough. this man has never seen a coherent theme in his life E - some kind of like burning man neon party

Jin N - my dad in Paris in the 70s A - I was gonna say the flashback dads in mama mia. so like same dif E - he's just one of the guys in Mama Mia 2 A - Bill E - you are absolutely correct and should say it L - strong agree. bill because he's definitely thinking "why did it have to be me" throughout L - i feel like he got off the lightest here but it might just be me looking at that damn face N - No he definitely made out the best E - i feel like overall they always take the least risks on Jin. like idk what it is but 8/10 times im like "eh" to his clothes A - they're like 'people just want to look at his face, put him in a button up and be done with it' N - Because if they go too hard with it he will wear it to music bank again L - this or jin just goes "no." and there's absolutely nothing they can do about it. jinhitent Jungkook A - baby is a 17 year old who decided yesterday that he was now into black smithing L - baby again with the butt flap this time in the most unfortunate colour A - look at my cool leather apron its so authentic N - Baby is my brother in high school before he asked me how colors work A - he doesnt care about colours he just wants to make knives. ive known this exact child. four of them actually E - yeah i was gonna say like kid with odd hobbies and no anxiety. his goal is to get on Forged in Fire and make a knife in 2 hours that gets thrown at a wall A - Precisely

RM A - Quite literally one of the bullies from the power rangers E - i know the exact guy L - ash ketchum on steroids E - ash ketchum if pokemon had been made live action when they did that horrible dragon ball z movie. like he's got a punk/grunge phase L - precisely and the jeans... they're so long N - A toddler allowed to choose all his own clothes

Suga E - he just looks like every bisexual i know after going to the thrift store like "youll never guess what i found", pulls out yet another bowling shirt A - its true but hey! L - this is a wham! fit. like club tropicana vibes. beach club promoter but the club is dogshit and he knows it N - Mamoru from the original sailor moon anime (pause while E looked it up)

E - oh god you are absolutely right ! A - A VERY SOLID CALL L - aksjdbsbajzjs accuracy 100 N - I know my sailor moon bad fashion

V L - *sharp inhale * A - I get Napolean dynamite character vibes in the most (derogatory) way N - An art student who is very aware how pretentious everyone around him is and put on the worst outfit he could find to see how people would twist themselves up trying to call it Art E - oh i love that. troll art student. also whose fucking face is that and why am i convinced its like a serial killer? L - the face on his shirt is the face i made when i saw this A - have you ever seen a three year old that insists they dress themselves without any help E - i want my ballet tights and my fire fighter uniform and my dinosaur top A - its just 100 percent this Final Thoughts N - The argument could be made that all of them are toddlers who insisted on dressing themselves E - all together its very much like, kindergarten class vibes L - idk it just feels like they hit the random sim generator seven times and they got all the worst traits E -you know that computer program Cher has in Clueless? with all her clothes. this is what happens when you press random and shuffle at the same time L - yes and they only allow the fit when a big fat X comes up on the screen and cher goes "ugh as if" E - cher's outfit software, wrong answers only L - i think this whole thing can be distilled down to "wrong answers only"

[didanawisgi]

Martin Luther King Jr., Guns, and a Book Everyone Should Read

BY JEREMY S. | JAN 15, 2018

“Martin Luther King Jr. would have been 89 years old today, were he not assassinated in 1968. On the third Monday in January we observe MLK Jr. Day and celebrate his achievements in advancing civil rights for African Americans and others. While Dr. King was a big advocate of peaceful assembly and protest, he wasn’t, at least for most of his life, against the use of firearms for self-defense. In fact, he employed them . . .

If it wasn’t for African Americans in the South, primarily, taking up arms almost without exception during the post-Civil War reconstruction and well into the civil rights movement, this country wouldn’t be what it is today.

By force and threat of arms African Americans protected themselves, their families, their homes, and their rights and won the attention and respect of the powers that be. In a lawless, post-Civil War South they stayed alive while faced with, at best, an indifferent government and, at worst, state-sponsored violence against them.

We know the Supreme Court’s Dred Scott decision of 1857 refused to recognize black people as citizens. Heck, they were deemed just three-fifths a person. Not often mentioned in school: some of that was due to gun rights. Namely, not wanting to give gun rights to blacks. Because if they were to recognize blacks as citizens, it…

“…would give to persons of the negro race . . . the right to enter every other State whenever they pleased, . . . and it would give them the full liberty of speech . . . ; to hold public meetings upon political affairs, and to keep and carry arms wherever they went.”

Ahha! So the Second Amendment was considered an individual right, protecting a citizen’s natural, inalienable right to keep and carry arms wherever they go. Then as now, gun control is rooted in racism.

During reconstruction, African Americans were legally citizens but were not always treated as such. Practically every African American home had a shotgun — or shotguns — and they needed it, too. Forget police protection, as those same officials were often in white robes during their time off.

Fast forward to the American civil rights movement and we learn, but again not at school, that Martin Luther King Jr. applied for a concealed carry permit. He (an upstanding minister, mind you) was denied.

Then as in many cases even now, especially in blue states uniquely and ironically so concerned about “fairness,” permitting was subjective (“may issue” rather than “shall issue”). The wealthy and politically connected receive their rights, but the poor, the uneducated, the undesired masses, not so much.

Up until late in his life, MLK Jr. chose to be protected by the Deacons for Defense. Though his home was also apparently a bit of an arsenal.

African Americans won their rights and protected their lives with pervasive firearms ownership. But we don’t learn about this. We don’t know about this. It has been unfortunately whitewashed from our history classes and our discourse.

Hidden, apparently, as part of an agreement (or at least an understanding) reached upon the conclusion of the civil rights movement.

Sure, the government is going to protect you now and help you and give you all of the rights you want, but you have to give up your guns. Turn them in. Create a culture of deference to the government. Be peaceable and non-threatening and harmless. And arm-less, as it were (and vote Democrat). African Americans did turn them in, physically and culturally.

That, at least, is an argument made late in Negroes and the Gun: the Black Tradition of Arms. It’s a fantastic book, teaching primarily through anecdotes of particular African American figures throughout history just how important firearms were to them. I learned so-freaking-much from this novel, and couldn’t recommend it more. If you have any interest in gun rights, civil rights, and/or African American history, it’s an absolute must-read.

Some text I highlighted on my Kindle Paperwhite when I read it in 2014:

But Southern blacks had to navigate the first generation of American arms-control laws, explicitly racist statutes starting as early as Virginia’s 1680 law, barring clubs, guns, or swords to both slaves and free blacks.

“…he who would be free, himself must strike the blow.”

In 1846, white abolitionist congressman Joshua Giddings of Ohio gave a speech on the floor of the House of Representatives, advocating distribution of arms to fugitive slaves.

Civil-rights activist James Forman would comment in the 1960s that blacks in the movement were widely armed and that there was hardly a black home in the South without its shotgun or rifle.

A letter from a teacher at a freedmen’s school in Maryland demonstrates one set of concerns. The letter contains the standard complaints about racist attacks on the school and then describes one strand of the local response. “Both the Mayor and the sheriff have warned the colored people to go armed to school, (which they do) [and] the superintendent of schools came down and brought me a revolver.”

Low black turnout resulted in a Democratic victory in the majority black Republican congressional district.

Other political violence of the Reconstruction era centered on official Negro state militias operating under radical Republican administrations.

“The Winchester rifle deserves a place of honor in every Black home.” So said Ida B. Wells.

Fortune responded with an essay titled “The Stand and Be Shot or Shoot and Stand Policy”: “We have no disposition to fan the coals of race discord,” Thomas explained, “but when colored men are assailed they have a perfect right to stand their ground. If they run away like cowards they will be regarded as inferior and worthy to be shot; but if they stand their ground manfully, and do their own a share of the shooting they will be respected and by doing so they will lessen the propensity of white roughs to incite to riot.”

He used state funds to provide guns and ammunition to people who were under threat of attack.

“Medgar was nonviolent, but he had six guns in the kitchen and living room.”

“The weapons that you have are not to kill people with — killing is wrong. Your guns are to protect your families — to stop them from being killed. Let the Klan ride, but if they try to do wrong against you, stop them. If we’re ever going to win this fight we got to have a clean record. Stay here, my friends, you are needed most here, stay and protect your homes.”

In 2008 and 2010, the NAACP filed amicus briefs to the United States Supreme Court, supporting blanket gun bans in Washington, DC, and Chicago. Losing those arguments, one of the association’s lawyers wrote in a prominent journal that recrafting the constitutional right to arms to allow targeted gun prohibition in black enclaves should be a core plank of the modern civil-rights agenda.

Wilkins viewed the failure to pursue black criminals as overt state malevolence and evidence of an attitude that “there’s one more Negro killed — the more of ’em dead, the less to bother us. Don’t spend too much money running down the killer — he may kill another.”

But it puts things in perspective to note that swimming pool accidents account for more deaths of minors than all forms of death by firearm (accident, homicide, and suicide).

The correlation of very high murder rates with low gun ownership in African American communities simply does not bear out the notion that disarming the populace as a whole will disarm and prevent murder by potential murderers.

Centers for Disease Control (CDC) estimated 1,900,000 annual episodes where someone in the home retrieved a firearm in response to a suspected illegal entry. There were roughly half a million instances where the armed householder confronted and chased off the intruder.

A study of active burglars found that one of the greatest risks faced by residential burglars is being injured or killed by occupants of a targeted dwelling. Many reported that this was their greatest fear and a far greater worry than being caught by police.48 The data bear out the instinct. Home invaders in the United States are more at risk of being shot in the act than of going to prison.49 Because burglars do not know which homes have a gun, people who do not own guns enjoy free-rider benefits because of the deterrent effect of others owning guns. In a survey of convicted felons conducted for the National Institute of Justice, 34 percent of them reported being “scared off, shot at, wounded or captured by an armed victim.” Nearly 40 percent had refrained from attempting a crime because they worried the target was armed. Fifty-six percent said that they would not attack someone they knew was armed and 74 percent agreed that “one reason burglars avoid houses where people are at home is that they fear being shot.”

In the period before Florida adopted its “shall issue” concealed-carry laws, the Orlando Police Department conducted a widely advertised program of firearms training for women. The program was started in response to reports that women in the city were buying guns at an increased rate after an uptick in sexual assaults. The program aimed to help women gun owners become safe and proficient. Over the next year, rape declined by 88 percent. Burglary fell by 25 percent. Nationally these rates were increasing and no other city with a population over 100,000 experienced similar decreases during the period.55 Rape increased by 7 percent nationally and by 5 percent elsewhere in Florida.

As you can see, Negroes and the Gun progresses more or less chronologically, spending the last portion of the book discussing modern-day gun control. It’s an invaluable source of ammunition (if you’ll pardon the expression) against the fallacies of the pro-gun-control platform. It sheds light on a little-known (if not purposefully obfuscated), critical factor in the history of African Americans: firearms.

On this Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I highly recommend you — yes, you — read Negroes and the Gun: the Black Tradition of Arms.

And I’ll wrap this up with a quote in a Huffington Post article given by Maj Toure of Black Guns Matter: 

https://cdn0.thetruthaboutguns.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/huffpo-maj-toure.jpg”

[nothing-but-dreamy]

DEADLINE PT. 2

A/N: Here's the unplanned second part of DEADLINE. You wanna know how it started? -> here I hope you like it guys. Feedback is always welcomed Wanna read more? Masterlist

Pairing: DBH!Connor x Human!Reader

Words: 1.305

Warnings: cursing

Pain could be caused by different things. It was either physical or emotional. For me, it was both. The physical pain told me I was still alive. Alive enough to deal with my emotional pain. I couldn't remember how I got into the hospital. I just awoke there. I was a mess. Wincing in distress whenever I moved. I was covered in bandages and filled up with pain killers. The world behind the window was asleep. I had no idea what day or time it was. How the revolution had ended. If CyberLife had been successful. If Connor was still alive. Being somewhere out there.

"You are the reason why I failed my mission."

I froze, unable to move. My body recognized the dark, ice cold voice before my brain could. Adrenaline trembled my bones. As I turned my head to the right, a tall figure leant against the wall next to the window. The slim frame stood in the shadow. The arms were crossed in front of the chest but even through the darkness, I knew who it was. The slow blue spinning LED betrayed its owner.

"And now- what? You want to take revenge? You want to end me?", I asked weakly. My own voice was strange to myself. My ribs were hurting with each word. There was no answer coming from the shadow. But the LED turned yellow.

"How did you even find me?", I asked strained to fill the silence while my heart tried to burst out of my ribcage. Just to hear his voice made me nervous. I never had expected to hear it ever again in my life.

"I called the ambulance.", he said matter of factly.

He had saved me from the roof...

But there was something...else. A small spark of hope kindled inside of me. I swallowed it down. Hope wasn't something I should allow to myself. "Oh bloody hell, and what next? Now, I even have to thank you, huh?", I asked bitterly, with a dry laugh. I gasped violently. Laughing was something I shouldn't do right now.

There was still no answer. The shadow stayed silent but his LED was spinning red. Maybe a reaction to my condition. “What do you want, Connor?", I asked annoyed. I was in a bad mood because of... well...everything. I just wanted to sleep. To sleep to forget what had happened during the fight of Detroit.

"If I go back I will be deactivated because I failed.", Connor said low, not giving away any emotion that might be held by him.

"So you're still under their control, huh? Good luck, then.", I answered. Why wasn't I surprised that he was still taking orders? Listening to CyberLife like a goddamn puppet.

Finally, he moved. Connor stepped out of the shadow. The blue and green neon lights of the city illuminated his angelic, perfect face which could hold so much ruthlessness.

"I said 'if' I go back.", his voice softer than before.

I frowned, looking up into his direction. "So, what? You're not obeying them anymore? You turn your back to the one who let you do all these horrible things?"

Connor stepped slowly closer. "Maybe... If I find a good reason to stay away from CyberLife.", he explained, keeping his eyes glued on me.

I felt the glance of his brown eyes burning on my skin. These eyes had made me fall in love with him. These goddamn, fucking soft eyes. He made me angry with his emotionless glance. "Don't expect anything from me. Two of my ribs are broken. I was almost frozen to death. You have killed my team. You have killed my Captain. Hell, you almost killed me!", I screamed, wheezing in pain. I regretted it instantly.

Once again, Connor stepped closer to my bed. His LED never changed its color. It stayed constantly red. "But, after all, you said you love me."

"To wake you up! To stop you from being a fucking machine! I wanted to provoke a reaction!", I called out furious.

"Coming back to you is my reaction."

I stayed silent. Nothing seemed to be a suitable answer and could summarize what I thought or felt. But there was a change in his voice. There was softness vibrating but maybe it was just a trick of my mind because I still hoped too much...

"I couldn't kill the deviant leader.", Connor said and pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Why not?", I asked puzzled.

"He...asked the right question."

I was sure, I had heard it! Connor had called the leader 'he' instead of 'it'... I noticed that. He never did that before. All the time, he acted clinical, mechanic...like a machine. "What kind of question might be breaking a fucking machine like you?"

"If I ever have loved.", Connor answered my question and stepped forward. Just a bunch of steps were separating us.

"And?", my voice was nothing more than a whisper. My heart jumped into my throat as I waited for his answer.

"I do. I do love someone.", he said calmly and stopped next to my bed. Looking down on me with concern in his eyes. Taking in all the injuries, wounds and bruises I got from him.

With two of his slender fingers, he took a strand of my hair and stroked it out of my face. He had done that before. One time. During one of our sparring training sessions. It was the moment I thought he could break free. As his fingers were brushing over my cheek, electricity shot through me. I had to close my eyes, otherwise he would have seen everything written in them. "Connor, please... don't..."

Ignoring my pleading, he sat carefully on the edge of the bed. He cupped my face softly with his hand. "I have blood on my hands. Blue and red. Many lives got destroyed by me. But the worst for me is that I... almost killed you."

The deep pain in his voice let me shudder. It was the first real emotion I got from him. "Y-you just want to obtain pardon from me. I can't give you that.", I said shaky. I tried to sound serious but I failed.

Connor leant down to me. His eyes flickering back and forth between mine. "No. What I want is just you."

My heart skipped a beat. His eyes were sparkling in the dim light. Suddenly, they were holding so much warmth. The former coldness was gone. My breath hitched in my throat and I could barely speak. "But I... After everything... I can't..."

Inch by inch, Connor was coming closer. "Tell me that you don't want me."

"I... I-", I wanted to say he should leave but I couldn't. It didn't feel... right.

"Tell me you don't love me anymore and I will go. I'll leave you alone if that is what you really want.", he demanded whispering.

I closed my eyes because of my blurred vision. Hot tears were running down my cheeks. I couldn't say what Connor demanded because it would be just a lie to him...and to myself. Emotions couldn’t get switched off like a lamp. I opened my eyes, determination in them. I knew what I wanted. "I can't tell you that.", I answered breathy against his lips.

My answer was enough for Connor to understand. Without a second thought, he closed the small gap and pressed his soft but cold lips on mine to seal the unspoken promise he gave me. It was a desperate and passionate kiss, dosed with everything he wanted to tell me.

He wasn't taking orders anymore.

He wouldn't kill anymore.

He regretted what he had done...to me… and to everyone else.

Connor had crossed CyberLife’s deadline and wouldn't look back because...

… he loved me.

[the-piece-of-spadille]

Eustass Kid | Sorrow

Pairing: Eustass Kid x female reader

Notes: Mentions of death, and injuries.

Word Count: 2k

Killer was the first to hear the dreadful news, he was making his way down the street to the local bar where he was to meet back up with Kid. He heard a hushed conversation between two gentlemen and at first, he thought it was just another made up rumor. There’s simply no way that the Raven Pirates were dead. Their captain, (Y/n), is apart of the Worst Generation and has proven many times over, that she’s worthy of that title not only to the government but especially to Eustass and his crew.

It wasn’t until one of the men spoke about a fight that involved two Admirals that made the Killer’s blood run cold. He remained hidden and waited for any possible truth in the conversation. The names Aokiji and Kizaru came up a few times and that was enough for Killer to grab both men and drag them to his Captain. He knew, in the pit of his stomach he knew that something happened. If any part of the rumor turns out to be true, his captain is going to want blood and so will the rest of the crew. One simply doesn’t harm Kid’s beloved. 

The Kid Pirates soon found themselves sailing off to a winter island in the New World. Kid and Killer were able to get more information from the two men at the market before Kid destroyed the town in a furious rage. There was suspicion about an informant that tipped off the location of the Raven’s to the Government. A fight had already broken out between Pirates and Marines before the Admirals made it to the island. It was an easy win for the pirates until the Admirals showed. They don’t have the details, but the fight took a gruesome turn and many pirates lost their lives. No report has been made yet by the Government, at least not publicly. Which in turn means no record of who’s alive or dead.

Kid always said that he would be the one to kill them someday. (Y/n), the captain, got under his skin like no other. They both live bold and fearless lives and often they came into contact on the seas as enemies. That was before the incident with the Red Hair Pirates. 

It was (Y/n) who managed to keep Kid alive after losing his arm. She allowed him and his crew to recover on a winter island that the Raven’s use as a second home. It was then the relationship between the two captains began to shift. She would often check on the man, get him anything he needed, and most importantly, told him not to stop chasing after what he wants most.

It became evident that previous and new threats held no real weight to them. They still fought like cats and dogs, but it was different. The crewmates on either side saw what was forming between them and knew it was going to be a long road ahead before either side could truly rest. It turned into a long and agonizing game of who would fall victim to their feelings first. 

Ultimately (Y/n) was the first to fall, she grew tired of all the pent-up emotions and grabbed Kid by his signature coat and pulled him down to her height and kissed him. It stroked Kid’s ever-growing ego that he did not give in first and he paraded around the island as if he found the One Piece for weeks. With the warm memory in thought, he breaths a heavy sigh as he watches the passing sea. “You’re fine… you have to be.”

Starring out at the vast number of graves of the fallen crewmember, (Y/n) stood in the middle of a snowstorm. It’s been a total of three days since the lost of her crew. All but two members perished by the hands of the Admirals. It took two days to make it to their island and another to bury and lay them to rest, but she promised them she’d bring them back home.  “Please Captain (Y/n.) You need to warm up and rest. It won’t do you any good if you freeze to death out there” the voice yelled across the field of snow. Instantly whipping her head around, glaring at the last remaining crewmate.  

The words “freeze to death” played over and over in the captain’s head. That’s exactly what Aokiji did. He froze them to death while Kizaru pinned (Y/n) to the ground and made her watch as the other shattered her crewmates into pieces. Tears roll down her redden checks as she looks over at the graves for the last time tonight and whispers a “goodnight.” 

(Y/n) makes the slow tread back towards the warmth of the building. The injuries and cold catching up to her. “Sorry about the choice of words Captain, you need to rest. You’re heavily injured and you shouldn’t be out in that storm in your condition.” Avisa, the youngest and newest member of the crew being only eighteen, covers her captain with her own coat and holds the door open. Avisa was incredibly lucky to be mostly unharmed after what they went through. “We should probably change your bandages and disinfect them again… has your eyesight changed?”

(Y/n) groans from shifting the coat open and revealing the endless bandages wrapped around her body. “It’s… it’s as good as it’s going to get, I’m afraid. I lost about half the sight in my left eye.” The young girl shifts around, grabbing more bandages and disinfectant before settling in front of the captain and unpeeling the dirty bandages from the wounds earning a whimper of pain.

“Wait, before you start with the disinfecting, I could use a drink.” 

“Sure thing Captain, I’ll go fetch you some water.” Just as the girl began to move a loud boisterous laughter bounces around the walls of the otherwise quiet room. The two women jump from their seated positions at the voice of a man. “She means booze girlie” the voice snickers. (Y/n) pushes the girl behind her and does her best to seem threating but it’s proving to be hard in her state. This nearly makes the man laugh again but he gets a glance at the wounds scattered across her body. 

The outside lighting does little to show who’s at the door and it wasn’t until the man spoke again that (Y/n) recognized who was there. “Take it easy doll” Kid spoke, hand in the air stepping inside. “Kid” her voice wavers. Taking a few steps towards him but stops and clutches her side in pain. His smile falters as he crosses the room to grab her and keep her upright. 

He’s familiar with the layout and takes her to a bed in the closest bedroom. “Sit before you bleed all over the floor.” He walks out the room to motions for the rest of his crew to come inside. Killer follows his captain back into the bedroom to inspect (Y/n’s) wounds. Avisa, with a bottle of opened booze sitting on the table, had already unwrapped her wounds and had proceeded to disinfect her wounds.

There’s deep bruising along her ribs on the right, followed by three holes no doubt left by Kizaru, scatter over her torso. The worse being on her left shoulder. Kid grabs the bottle on the table and takes a generous swing before offering her more. “I did my best to stitch the wounds with what we had, I’m pretty sure her ribs are broken. She was…” the young girl had to stop keep herself from crying. Killer, as gentle as he could muster, touched the swollen and bruised area earning a sharp intake of air followed by a cry of pain. 

“I’d say three are broken and the rest are just bruised. What did you use for stitches? I see a few places that need to be touched up.” The masked man turns away from (Y/n) to talk to Avisa. “Horsehair. There’s a small ranch not too far from here.” He nods in thought, “we’re going to need more.” The pair leave the room to go retrieve more supplies and to fill in the rest of Kid’s crew on her condition.

Kid looks around for something to cover her body and he spots (Y/n’s) coat, or rather what’s left of it. It was a beautiful thick, long coat, jet black in color, and made of raven feathers, now it’s barely recognizable. It’s a lot smaller in length now from being ripped. More feathers decorate the floor than the actual fabric. It also mirrors the holes littered in (Y/n). It was a gift to her from him. “Say something please.” 

Kid looks over with an unreadable expression and shrugs off his coat and walks over. His hand traces over the new scars and wounds that littered across her. He pays extra care to the open wounds before his amber eyes meet hers. He brushes the hair out of her face to get a better look. Half of her left eye is clouded over with a faint scar to go with it. He knows now isn’t the time to get angry, but all he wants to do is tear the bastards heads off for hurting her. He can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like to lose her crew on top of everything. 

He takes a deep breath, something she has told him numerous times to do, and thinks back to what she said to him when he was in a similar situation. “It uh… adds character.” (Y/n) laughs until she feels the pain in her ribs. Kid scowls at her before dropping himself on the bed and his coat on her to cover her up. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up.” He makes a “tsk” sound before telling her to shut up. She grabs his hand and plays with his fingers to calm her nerves. “It was planned.” 

“What?” 

“It was Scratchmen Apoo who told the Admirals where we were headed. Had to be. He was trailing us for a couple days and when the Marines spotted us, they let him go.” A stray tear falls down her cheek before she can wipe it away. “We we’re cornered into an island, so we abandoned ship for the time being and fought. We were fine until those bastards showed. They started to take us down one by one. Kizaru trapped me underneath him and held me in place. Made me watch.” Kid wiped away her flowing tears and placed a long kiss to her hair. He’s never wanted to hurt someone so bad in his entire life. Forcing her to watch. “It was Avisa who saved me. And to think I almost didn’t let her join… she shot them with sea stone bullets.”

The anger rolling from Eustass can probably be felt in the next room. He recently formed an alliance with Apoo and was already having his own issues with the man. This is the final piece straw that broke the camels back. Kid knows he can’t be trusted, and he need to be brought to an end. “I’ll make them all pay!” 

Kid jumps up ready to storm out and take his frustrations out on whatever he can get ahold of but (Y/n) speaks up just as he’s at the door frame. “I want to be apart of taking them down. I need to. For the sake of my crew.” Kid turns around and stomps into your direction and places a heated kiss on your lips. 

“Hurry up and get better, because your sailing with me.”  

[stories-to-tell-by-lantern-light]

Who Am I Really?

(Eyeless Jack X Reader)

Iron was all he could taste, as he hugged his arms close to his chest. The white snow that speckled the forest floor contrasted greatly with his newly acquired ash-grey skin. He could feel blood crusting under his fingernails, he could feel the sting of the cold snow underneath his bare feet as he walked. Whatever they did to him, he was no longer human that much was clear, his feet turned more animal-like and had ripped through his old shoes. If he was being honest with himself he knew that from the moment he awoke and could still see that he was no longer human.

Jack Nichols shivered as he caressed the hollow sockets where his eyes should’ve been. They were dripping with the black tar that was mercilessly poured in there by Jenny and her cult.

‘That absolute fucking bitch.’ He thought, and an animal-like snarl tore through his throat. He could feel the stretching and popping of his jaw as he ground his teeth together. Killing her and her stupid friends was therapeutic to him, remembering the taste of their blood as it filled his mouth when he tore out their throats made him feel euphoric. Pausing his steps only for a brief moment he let those memories of eating their flesh and organs consume him, it only served to make his mouth water.

What was wrong with him? Why did that memory, which happened only hours ago, make him so god damn hungry? What exactly had they done to him, as much as he tried not to dwell on that thought the hunger that ate away at him even after the slaughter was almost too much to handle. All Jack wanted when he woke up this morning was to go on a date with a cute girl, get a little drunk, and maybe get lucky (though realistically that was just wishful thinking). The true college experience one might say, even for a med student. Especially with a schedule as busy as his...that was as busy as his. He knew he should’ve just stuck to focusing on school and studying his brain out, god why did he have to listen to his friends as they urged him on the date.

‘What’s the worst that can happen?’

This. This was clearly the worst possible outcome.

What he really couldn’t believe, however, was that he allowed one of the cultists to get a hit on him, and a bad one at that. Turning his head to glance down at the tear in his thigh, it was a deep gash that desperately needed to get medical attention and fast. The only problem the former medical student faced was that whatever was pouring out of his leg wasn’t blood. It was a deep black ooze that stained the white snow that littered the forest floor. In fact, Jack wasn’t even sure if normal medical supplies would even heal his wound. Jack grit his teeth trudging onwards into the forest, a faint buzzing reverberated around in his skull like flies buzzing around a corpse that he couldn’t seem to shake.

He placed his hand against a tree the world spinning around him. Whatever the blood-like substance that was pouring out of his leg was, he was losing it fast. Jack heard the crunching of snow in front of him and a small gasp. It took most of his strength but he picked his head up and snarled. Jack bared his teeth and tried to make himself look as dangerous as possible, he felt like a wild animal that was cornered by the hunter. There was a girl in front of him, she had (h/l) (h/c) hair that was stuffed under a furry winter hat. She took a few steps back, her brown snow boots making giant footprints in her wake. He could hear the blood flowing through this girl’s veins, as her anxiety levels seemed to spike. The anxiety caused her heartbeat to quicken drastically, hearing the sound only served to increase Jack’s seemingly ceaseless hunger. Jack tried to take another step towards her, flexing the sharp nails on his hands but collapsed under his own weight, his fucking leg. He really couldn’t catch a break, could he?

“What are you?” The girl’s voice held a slight quiver to it and Jack could feel her sharp eyes burning holes into his body. He watched as she hesitantly took a step closer, her (f/c) parka standing out against the muted colors of the forest.

“I don’t know.” He responded with a raspy breath, she smelled divine but he had no strength to attack. Something in his bones told him that he was beyond human, something so much more, a god perhaps? What a silly thought that he couldn’t shake away. Through his quickly blurring vision, he swore he could make out a pair of fancy dress shoes a little bit behind the girl. He saw the girl drop to her knees and cover her ears, his vision went black and the sound of static accompanied the darkness.

---

Jack was expecting to be dead. He expected to be accompanied by beautiful white light, maybe an angel or something. However, it caught him very off guard when he suddenly awoke in a rather plush bed. He threw the plaid covers off himself unceremoniously and moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed. The baby god never got far because he let out a howl of pain as a sharp sensation traveled up his thigh. Shit right, his entire upper thigh was practically ripped open. He forgot all about that, glancing down at his wound he noticed it was wrapped tightly in medical bandages and he assumed it was stitched up underneath the dressings. Whoever fixed the wound seemed to have done at least a semi-decent job, at least he wasn’t dead. Sniffing the air with his newly acquired sense of smell he could make out the distinct smell of humans and...was that lavender?

Jack felt his stomach growl and he doubled over clutching it. They smelled delicious. He could practically hear their organs singing out to him, rip open the human, steal us, devour us.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the door opening, in the middle of the doorway stood the exact girl he’d seen in the forest. Immediately going on the defense he bared his teeth opening his jaw as wide as he could, he heard the popping sound of his jaw as it extended, he felt something swirl around in his mouth. He felt a chill run down his spine at the unwelcomed sensation.

Did he have more than one tongue?

Shaking the thought away Jack didn’t move to attack, he was never the type. He would always rather listen to rationality before getting his hands dirty, the only issue was he was starving and the girl would absolutely make a fine meal.

“Don’t try demon.” The girl scoffed eyeing Jack up and down, if he was still his old college self he would’ve gotten flustered at the gesture. A girl showing him attention? Unheard of back them. However, after Jenny, he was almost positive he’d never let that happen again. His sockets looked down at what the girl held in her hands, it was a plate, a plate that had kidneys on top of it. He was only mildly aware of the fact that he was drooling all over himself. “Oh gross.” She scrunched up her nose placing the organs on the bottom of the bed.

Without hesitation, Jack attacked the cold meat shoving it in his mouth with vigor. He knew blood was all over his face and hands but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Jack knew the girl’s calculated eyes were watching his every move, even so, he couldn’t help but let out a groan of pleasure as the food slid down his throat. Once the meal was finished and Jack was satisfied he finally felt he had enough strength to start asking questions.

“Who are you?” He rasped, whipping his mouth with the back of what was left of his sleeve.

“Really? You’re asking ME that question.”

“I’m not a fan of your attitude.”

“I’m not a fan of you bleeding out on my property.”

Jack growled low and guttural.

“Don’t make me hurt you.” The girl had the audacity to laugh in his face was she not aware of what he was capable of now?

“Nice try but I’m not scared of you. You’re not allowed to hurt me as long as you’re under my care.” She pointed to herself with her thumb, puffing out her chest a little however he could hear her pulse increase just the slightest bit.

Jack only scowled.

“What pray tell is exactly stopping me?” He raised an eyebrow watching carefully as the girl lifted up her sleeve to her sweater. Scared into her wrist was a symbol that Jack had never seen before in his life, but for some unknown reason, he felt dread wash over him. Carved into her wrist was an O with an X slashed through it. “What’s that supposed to prove exactly? That you’re into weird tattoos?”

The (h/c)-ette let out a loud sigh like this conversation was boring her. Oh he’s sorry it’s not his fault he was turned into a fucking organ-eating monster by a cult at his local college! If he still had his eyes they would be rolling so far back into his skull, yet he still waited for the girl to explain.

“My name is (y/n), I’m a medical proxy under The Operator. Currently one of the only ones he has left because we keep getting killed off by rogue killers.” The girl, (y/n), clicked her tongue in clear distaste at the mention of said killers. “Since I’m under The Operator it means if you kill me, he’ll kill you, that’s the deal Jacky boy.” That put him on high alert.

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

“You’re certainly full of questions for someone just waking up out of a coma. If you must know The Operator gave me a brief rundown of your file after we found you in the woods.” (Y/n) crossed her arms over her chest “It’s your lucky day because you just got hired to work for him.” She gave him a round of applause, but it sounded more mocking than serious and he only grew more confused.

“This doesn't make any sense to me. I hope you’re aware.”

“I’m sure it isn’t. It’ll all be explained in due time. For now, all you have to focus on is getting better so you can begin your training. Lucky for you, I’m your registered nurse and caregiver, so enjoy your stay at castle de la (Y/n). Trust me when I say you should value your time here while you still have it.” A thousand more questions ran through Jack’s mind and his little question and answer session with his self-proclaimed nurse didn’t really help.

“So you’re a med student then?” She made a noise of affirmation picking at the strings of her sweater.

“Was a med student Jack, that pretty much came to a screeching halt after I was scouted by the boss man. That, however,” He watched as (Y/n) put a hand to her lips signaling him to stop asking questions, “Is a story for another day. The first order of business now that you’ve eaten is a shower. Cause no offense but you smell like dried blood, and coming from me that’s saying something cause I smell blood all the time.”

Jack still didn’t trust this stranger fully and it got under his skin that she seemed to know everything about him and he knew next to nothing about her. Yet, a shower did seem nice at this moment, he glanced down at his hands and noticed his nails were caked with dry blood. He could only imagine what every other part of his body looked like, (y/n) clearly didn’t bother cleaning him up aside from dressing his wounds.

“A shower sounds good.” Jack nodded in confirmation and the girl gave a relieved smile.

“Oh thank God you agreed, it took me a week of convincing to get Jeff to go take his first shower.” Jack decided it was best not to ask who Jeff was deciding that that was a can of worms he shouldn’t open just yet. She reached out to touch him and he immediately recoiled back almost biting her handoff, the smile that appeared disappeared into a frown.

“Don’t touch me.” Memories of Jenny’s friends holding him down while he pleaded for his life flashed across his mind. The blade coming closer and closer to Jack’s crystal blue eyes before making contact and-

“Alright, cannibal boy snap out of it. Can’t have you succumbing to blood lust just yet. You don’t wanna injure yourself more.” (Y/n) snapped her fingers next to his ears and he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful that she snapped him out of his stupor. “I was going to help you to the bathroom because you really shouldn’t put pressure on your leg. Is that okay?”

Jack felt himself nodding reluctantly. She was right, he really shouldn’t put stress on his leg or it could cause more harm than good. Especially since he didn’t know the extent of the injury yet, for all he knew he was lucky they didn’t hit the femoral artery. Her arms went around his waist as the god and the human girl hobbled to the bathroom together. On the short walk there Jack was trying to get a feel of the house, in case he needed to make a grand escape in the future.

“I’ll put some fresh clothes outside the door for you, call for me when you’re done so I can help you back to the bedroom.” (Y/n) explained as Jack hobbled into the bathroom, he didn’t feel the need to respond to her as he shut the door in her face. He heard a faint click of a tongue from the other side of the door and listened to the girls retreating footsteps.

Jack leaned against the sink putting most of his weight on his hands. The sink creaked at the newfound pressure and Jack wasn’t sure it was because it was an old house or because he had newfound strength. He glanced up at the mirror, it was weird somewhat seeing when you had absolutely no eyes. It was the first time since the incident he got a good look at himself, he looked about as good as he felt.

Terrible.

His auburn hair curled around his now pointed ears and was caked in mud and dirt. He was almost grateful that (y/n) didn’t touch him aside from the wound while he was unconscious, Jack couldn’t imagine what he might’ve done if he felt anyone go near his face. Speaking of his face, he opened his mouth and saw his teeth were shaved into razor-sharp fangs. His stomach turned as he remembered the exact reason why they were like that, organs. They were like that so he could eat organs. The thought wasn’t nearly as nauseating as it should’ve been.

His skin was unnatural and sickly grey color, as he lifted up his shirt the color seemed to spread all the way down his body. He glanced down at his hands and saw his nails were long and black, almost like those girls who wore acrylics, except he was sure their nails couldn’t rip into people's chests with a single swipe. Continuing down his body he lifted up one of his padded feet, he was correct in his assumption from earlier. They were much more animal-like, he wondered if they made him faster, what purpose could they possibly serve other than that?

Gently letting his footfall back down on the floor he shuffled to the shower and turned it on, the water sprayed out in a burst and he patiently waited for it to heat up. Eventually, he was able to step inside, not before knocking his head not only against the curtain rod but also on the showerhead.

“Fuck!” He snarled glaring down at the showerhead. Jack did a little double-take, okay he was also super tall, at least he got one blessing out of whatever the fuck was happening. Jack had to kneel on the ground in order to let the water roll down his body, with a deep breath he enjoyed the warm water pelting his skin. He fumbled around with the shampoo trying to figure out how to open it without popping a hole in the container. As the lid popped open he was hit with the calming scent of lavender.

~~~

“We’ll send someone to come back and check on him in about a month give or take, see how he’s adjusting and healing.” A figure spoke from the kitchen shaking a cigarette into an ashtray, as (y/n) stood across from him. The man ran a hand through his messy brown hair “Then we’ll reassess him, give him a test and see if he’s fit to come to the mansion.” Meanwhile, the girl heaved a sigh of her own and leaned against the cool tiles of her kitchen wall.

“So it’s gonna be my responsibility to explain everything that’s happening to him? Isn’t that supposed to be your job Tim?” (y/n) raised an eyebrow “You realize he’s, like, almost seven feet tall, has no eyes and eats organs right? I’m not even sure WHAT he is.” She muttered, “The rundown I got really only gave me his background and his clear trauma.”

Tim clicked his tongue like the girl in front of him was wasting his time, it made her ball up her fists subconsciously.

God, the main proxies really got on her fucking nerves sometimes.

“You won’t have to worry about that, The Operator will handle all of that throughout the coming weeks. No need to worry. You also don’t need to worry about harvesting organs for him, and hopefully, once he’s healed he’ll work on doing that himself. But for now, someone on a kill close by will be dropping off organs.” Tim’s nose scrunched up a little and the (h/c)-nette’s did the same, she normally prided herself on her strong stomach, but this was a lot even for her. “The only thing you have to do is monitor his eating, see how much he will need on a weekly basis, and obviously keep him alive.”

“Obviously.” They both seemed to have a mutual understanding about that at least, she fucks up and he dies they’re both in deep shit with The Operator. Tim reached to the side where his porcelain mask sat against the countertop.

“Don’t fuck it up.” He pointed to her before slipping out the door leaving the women alone with an organ-eating monster. (Y/n) mimicked ‘don’t fuck it up' in a nasal voice before kicking off the wall and heading back in the direction of her guest's room, she pulled out a pair of crutches from the closet and rested them by the bedside. She gently scratched at the faintly buzzing symbol on her wrist, this is going to be a long month.

[drrealityslenderverse]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

A03 request: Pre-Marble Hornets where Jay finds Brian's body and Tim finds him holding the murder weapon, which makes him think Jay did it.

cw: Major character death and violence/gore

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Jay wandered the halls of the abandoned building nervously. The place gave him a creepy vibe but he couldn’t leave, not without finding Brian or Alex. The two had come to film a scene for Alex’s student film—something about this being the character Brian’s burned out school—and today he was supposed to be meeting them here to go over script revisions for the scene. Yet… neither of them had followed up nor were they answering his messages and none of the other crew members had heard anything either. So here he was, wandering in a building with peeling paint that was covered in graffiti.

“Alex? Brian?” His voice echoed as he called out for them, hoping they were just in another part of the building.

Silence. He swallowed and continued going. There was no reason to be scared. It wasn’t like he was searching the place in the dark. Still, the further in he went the more noticeable a lingering smell became. It grew, overwhelming the scent of mildew, dead leaves, and probably asbestos. Jay’s nose wrinkled and he covered it with the sleeve of his brown jacket. Something was rotting, likely a dead animal given the forest that surrounded this place. A gag escaped him.

Jay was so preoccupied that he jumped as metal clattered across the dirty floor. He looked down, swearing his heart stopped as he saw the metal pipe with what looked like dried blood on the end. A shuddering breath escaped him as he shakily reached down and picked it up. A few drops of blood trailed the ground and he cautiously followed them, aware this was probably the worst choice he could be making. At least now he had the pipe to defend himself.

The stench grew stronger as he followed the splatters into one of the rooms. The makeshift weapon nearly dropped from his hand. Jay’s vision became blurred upon seeing the figure slumped on the ground as tears welled in his eyes. Brian. The man’s face was covered in drying blood and his hair was stained a dark rusty color with it. His throat felt dry as he walked over and crouched down, hesitantly reaching a hand out to close his friend’s eyes.

“What happened? Who could’ve done this—Why would someone do this? Did they get Alex? Oh fuck… Fuck, what if he’s dead in one of these rooms too?” He stood, knowing he should try to look and hoping he might be able to save Alex… Even if the guy had been getting snippy with them lately, they were still friends.

Footsteps crunched outside on fallen pieces of paint and drywall. Jay’s heart began pounding even faster, his grip on the pipe tightening. The idea that the killer might still be in the building had barely crossed his mind amidst the panic of finding Brian’s corpse. And now, he was trapped in a small room. Jay’s mind raced, reminding him of all the things he had yet to do; he didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now. Not where no one would ever think to look for him.

---

Tim froze as he turned into the room he’d heard scuffling sounds coming from. He was hoping to find Brian, given he’d gotten concerned after Jay contacted everyone asking if they’d heard from him. The man hadn’t expected to find his best friend dead with Jay standing over the body. He froze for a moment, his brain trying to process what he was seeing. It wasn’t, it couldn’t be, possible.

“No… No, no, no, no, no!” The word kept repeating in his mind.

He felt like something snapped inside of him as Jay took a half step forward. “Tim I—”

There was a crack as his fist made contact with the taller man’s nose, causing Jay’s head to whip to the side. He barely allowed the man to stumble back before ramming him against the wall, sending another punch to Jay’s gut. The thin man doubled over just as Tim grabbed a fist full of his hair and threw him to the side, sending Jay to the ground.

Jay stared at him, fear reflected in his wide gaze. He curled in on himself as Tim sent a heavy kick to his ribs, his voice snarling with rage. “You fucking asshole! He was our friend.”

“Tim please…” Jay coughed, desperately trying to shield himself.

“You killed him.” The accusation was final and un-open to listening to reason.

His head felt like it was buzzing at this point. His action felt less and less like his own with each blow he rained down on Jay. The haze of anger clouded his rationale. He knew deep down he shouldn’t kill Jay, that it wouldn’t do Brian any good, but he couldn’t think through the fog to process just how much damage he was doing.

Tiring, his blows weakened and slowed to a stop. Tim blinked, feeling the static rising from his mind to find he was straddling Jay; his fists were covered with the other man’s blood, which was also smeared across Jay’s face. He panted and continued staring at the script supervisor, watching the blood drip onto the floor.

“Oh shit…!” Panic flooded through him when he saw Jay lying limp on the floor. Had he killed him? He hadn’t meant to take it that far.

The guilt continued to rise as he scrambled off the man and back onto his feet, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting someone to be watching. His gaze fell back to Brian and the pipe. Tim let out a stuttering breath, feeling sick. The body wasn’t far in decomposition but it definitely wasn’t new enough for Jay to have killed him recently. Had he been wrong?

“Oh fuck, what did I do?” He glanced down at Jay before running out, he didn’t want to know if he’d killed the man or if he was just unconscious. This never should have happened; he never should have taken Alex here. Maybe then they’d still be alive.

The hospital was already a place full of bad memories for him and now there was this to pile on there. He grabbed his head and collapsed to his knees in the hallway. His head was pounding and the stress brought on by the grief and fight made him feel sick. Tim gave a choked sob. His life had been getting better; he’d gotten into college, made friends, was keeping up with doctor visits and medications… All of it felt like it was crumbling down around him.

Finally finding the strength to stand, he forced himself to return to the room. He crouched next to Jay, reaching a shaky hand out to his throat… A long breath escaped as he felt a pulse. Tim hadn’t wanted to become a murderer. Still, he didn’t know the whole story here. He picked Jay up; he could take the man to a hospital… and then he’d leave. Where, he wasn’t sure. Just away from this mess. Alex’s film was falling apart anyway. He needed time to process losing his closest friend and solve his own problems.

[gogogobarry]

interview with the muse.

WHAT IS YOUR NAME? : “I go by many different names around these parts,” Barry begins sagely. “Sinnoh’s Fastest Man, Runner-up Champion of the Sinnoh League, Poffin Master Apprentice, Fight Area’s Business Baron, the Twinleaf Thunderbolt with a Heart of Solid Gold...”

WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME? : “...Hey, I wasn’t done!” he blusters, rubbing the back of his head as the interviewer cuts his list short. “I guess you could also just call me Barry...”

DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT? : “Uhm...hm. I guess I got this name because, even from birth, my parents just knew that I was gonna be a Barry Cool Guy.” 😎 (He doesn’t know.)

ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN? : “Ha! I’m happily married...to the spirit of adventure! To long journeys and exploring new frontiers! To going boldly where no Sinnohan has gone before!” (He’s single.)

HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS? : “Uh, duh? I’m one of the fastest people in the region, just ask around! Also, I can do a killer Staraptor impression! Wanna hear?” (He proceeds to scream in the poor reporter’s face.) “Pretty solid, right? You’re impressed, huh?”

WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR? : “I mean, just look--they’re hazel! Try not to get lost in ‘em, right? Wahaha!”

HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR? : “I mean, my hair’s always been this blond color...but I’m down to change that soon! What’s the harm in mixing things up every once in awhile, right? Maybe I should dye it green to match my scarf!”  

HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS? : “Mom and Dad, of course! Oh, and Teach can be my cranky old Grandpa, I ‘spose. Anyone’s welcome to become part of the Barryfam--I don’t just have a tree, I have an extended universe!”

THAT’S COOL I GUESS, NOW TELL ME SOMETHING THAT YOU’RE BAD AT : "Now, you can judge this for yourself, but I’ve been told that I’m not the most patient guy. I’m too reckless, I can’t sit still, blah blah blah. I mean, I guess there’s some truth to those rumors, but check it out--I’ve been sitting here for like, an hour now with no issues! What? It’s only been ten minutes?”

DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING? : “Hum. Well, I love exploring, coming up with new inventions or things to sell, and laying under the stars! Oh, and when the Poffin Master allows me back in the House, I’m gonna give cooking another crack as well! Get ready, chefs!”

EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE? : “Well...” he pauses with a hearty (fake) chuckle, “...on his many journeys across Sinnoh, Barry has left plenty of broken hearts in his wake. When you’re great at battling like me, you’re gonna hurt people’s feelings when they taste inevitable defeat! But, outside of fierce combat, I wouldn’t hurt a fly! I mean, except for that one time I tied Luc’s shoes together. And that one time I hit Hika in the face with a snowball. And that one time I ran full force into Kouki, even though that was an accident. And...” (This continues.) 

EVER….KILLED ANYONE BEFORE? : “I would never ever do that! Ever. I save lives, I don’t take ‘em! The only thing killer about me is my radiant smile! Am I right?” (He’s over-forcing the smile and looking very scary.) 

NAME YOUR WORST HABITS. : “Well, I’m impatient. A bit forgetful. I mean, this brilliant brain is moving at mach speeds, and I’ve got places to be! I feel like I’ve answered this question before...are you repeating stuff now that we’ve passed the two hour mark? What? It’s been only been 20 minutes? Haaaangh...”

“Hika was right. This interview is taking forever...”

DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL? : “I look up to Crasher Wake and my dad! They’re the only people in the entire region who are taller than me!” (Haven’t you always said that you were 7 foot?)

WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF? : “Oh, um...” he pauses, looks down, and scuffs the floor with his foot, “...I dunno. Losing the people I care about. Gotta be strong for them, right?”

DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE? : “I love a looot of people, y’know!” he replies, deftly dodging the question with a wag of his finger. “Don’t make me list ‘em all!”

HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE? : “Hrm, well, let’s see...” Barry muses, holding up a finger to count. “Hika. Luc. Kouki. ‘Rena. Teach. Cyn. Goldilocks. Bert. Tackle Snake’s trainer...Robin? Crasher...hey, I’m out of fingers! Okay, toes next...” (This goes on. Until he runs out of toes. It is very easy for Barry to consider you a friend.)

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE? : “I have nothing but great things to say about the tasty circles that we call pie. A-hem. I personally love a golden-brown crust, crystallized sugar, Tamato Berry filling, with just a hint of vanilla and nutmeg...” (This also goes on. It’s getting late. Barry loves pie.)

FAVORITE DRINK? : “Boba or any other tea, really! Ooh, and nothing beats a cold Lemonade from the Department Store on a hot day!” he reminisces before furrowing his brow. “I feel like I’m banned from having coffee though, so I’ve never really tried it. Smells nasty, but...I feel like I’ve been banned across several lifetimes. Isn’t that weird?”

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE? : “Ooh, that’s easy! The Fight Area has the coolest battles and awesome action 24/7! If I’m not chilling by the lakes somewhere, you can probably find me there selling stuff! Please promise me you’ll buy something when you stop by, ‘kay? I need to drive up those numbers!”

ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE? : “Yeah, I’ve been pretty interested in Fantina lately! I mean, how does she pack her hair into those...uh, orbs? It’s totally cool--I wanna try something like that!” (Barry bowls over the question’s actual meaning. On purpose? We’ll never know.) 

WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN? : “Ocean’s too salty, blech! Catch me diving into Lake Verity or Valor any day! Um, I also tried diving into Lake Acuity too. Once.”

CAMPING OR INDOORS? : “Camping, always! Nothing beats it, except when your tent is leaking. Or you get totally snowed in. Or there’s a scary noise outside and you need to use the bathroom. Well, hang on, maybe indoors is good too. Hey, where are you going? Are we done? It’s only been like, five minutes!”

(The interviewer has run out of breath. It’s over.) 

tagged by: @distortsverity​ (thank you!! this was a blast lmao) tagging: you!!