#nobody is a monster. we’re all people

[cowboytism]

people that automatically jump to barry berkman and walter white and characters like them being psychopaths because they’ve killed people are literally so reductive. as if murderers as a subsection of our population can just be written off as having “bad brains” so we don’t have to look at what their reasons might have been. not to justify their actions, but to be able to know the different things that would lead someone to doing these things BEFORE they do them. but people just don’t want to think about it, even in FICTION, because if these people aren’t otherized as monsters, if they’re just people, then that means any one of us could be criminals if our circumstances were different. and that’s too scary for some people to think about.

[inkchwe]

dancing with our hands tied ↦ sjy

⋆ pairing: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ⋆ word count: 7.7k ⋆ genre: semi-angst, fluff, smut (18+/mdni!) ⋆ tags: brothersbsf!jake, minor age difference, college au, friends with benefits, secret relationship, light choking, semi-public sex, oral (f + m receiving), fingering penetration, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex folks). ⋆ synopsis: What began as a simple friends-with-benefits situation with your brother's best friend has turned into something deeper, and you now find that your emotions are more complicated than you initially thought. ➸ bless @temptaetions for giving me so much amazing dialogue to work with and @sweetvenomnet for getting me through finishing this monster!

You did not envision Sunday morning sitting across from your brother, concealing the bottom half of your body with your comforter and Jake next to you in bed. Jay’s face is a jumble of shock and anger, fists balled at his sides. You’re unsure if he’s ready to kick his best friend’s ass or throw him out by his neck, or both.

“How the fuck did this fucking happen,” Jay yells.

Well, you think, the beginning is a lot easier to explain than where we’re at now…

The first night you slept with Jake six months ago was like any other. Jay, your older brother by two years, was home with his best friend for the weekend. They had bonded over their freshman year as dorm buddies and Jay immediately inserted Jake into the family. “He’s like the brother I never had,” Jay would say when people would comment on them being attached at the hip.

It was not unusual for the two of them to stay over at your parents’ house when they were back in town. The university was more than three hours away. If they tried to drive home the same day, it would only end in a headache thanks to the rush-hour traffic. 

It was nice to see Jay succeeding though, his footsteps being ones you’d hope to follow in one day. He had it all figured out, while you were anything but decided. Still unsure about what to do now that you had graduated, you chose to stay home and attend community college in the meantime.

But Jay occasionally being back in your presence meant he had to fulfill his annoying brotherly roles, like boring you with tales of campus and admonishing you for risqué outfit choices.

Like that night.

He stopped you short at the door with judgmental eyes scanning up and down your dress. “Absolutely not.”

You scoffed and pushed him out of your way. The dress hugged your curves just right and the color fit your aestethic. You knew when you bought it that the length wasn’t ideal for everyday wear, but it was perfect for a night out. Jay wouldn’t tell you otherwise. “You don’t have to act like Dad, dude.”

“Listen,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We all know you’re a woman. You don’t need to prove it with a little black dress.”

“Unless you’re blind, this dress is blue,” you mocked him.

“You know what I mean, smart-ass! You’re not leaving wearing that!”

“What’s going on,” Jake called from the kitchen.

“My sister’s about to walk out of the house in a napkin,” Jay responded, sarcasm dripping from his mouth.

“You’re such a prick,” you said, crossing your arms.

Jake sauntered into the sitting room, a bag of chips in his hand. He was taken back by the outfit, his eyes slowly trailing down your body. His Adam’s apple bobbed as Jay continued on his tirade about modesty to nobody but the air.

“You look pretty,” Jake said finally. He popped a chip in his mouth.

Your cheeks turned red instantly. Jay’s best friend wasn’t unattractive to look at, not in the slightest, so hearing him say such a thing even in quick passing made your body tense.

Before you could thank him for the compliment, Jay coughed like he swallowed his own spit.

“Did you just say she looks pretty?” Jay asked in his best friend’s direction.

Jake chomped down on another chip. “What,” he said, his mouth full.

“If I heard that right, you just said my sister looks pretty in her dress.”

“Yes?” Jake’s expression morphed into confusion as your brother’s face went pale.

“Do you have a death wish?” Jay asked.

“Bro, c’mon—”

“No, seriously. Do you?”

You backed up towards the door, making sure not to clack your heels too hard on the tile to be noticed.

Jay, however, sensed your escape. “I meant it! You’re not leaving without putting something else on.”

“Seongie, stop being an asshole. I’m gonna be late,” you whined.

“Dude, all I said was that she looked pretty,” Jake butted in.

Jay turned his focus back to him. “You said the girl you fucked at that club on Fifth was pretty.”

“Bro, I’m not gonna fuck—” Jake ran his free hand through his hair, smiling in incredulity at the ridiculous conversation. “Just trust me.”

“Finish that sentence.”

Jake scoffed, mouth agape. “What the hell, man?”

“Finish. The. Sentence. Jaeyun.���

“Okay, if you’re done being weirdly overprotective and Jaeyun’s done taking back his compliment, I have a happy hour to go to.”

Jay was so preoccupied with Jake at that point that he barely registered your words and your exit from the house. Before he could protest again, Jake interrupted him.

“I’m not going to fuck your sister, Jong,” he says.

“Thanks, that’s reassuring,” Jay responded.

As you closed the door, you heard Jake say, “But if she fucks me, that’s a different story.”

Despite walking down the cobblestone pathway, you heard Jake’s cries from your older brother whacking him. Jay screamed, “You sick fuck!”

Your cheeks felt hot when you finally got inside of your friend’s car. You greeted them with a smile when you sat in the back seat, but your mind kept playing back Jake’s words. He must have had enough pickings on campus and in his hometown to keep him satisfied. He didn’t need to put his effort or interest in you. There’s no way that he would, right?

Five hours later, the clock just shy of 1 AM, you stepped quietly inside to not wake your parents. Tiptoeing up the stairs to your room, you didn’t see Jay’s bedroom light on, certain he was fast asleep. That gave you some relief knowing he didn’t stick around to admonish you for not listening to his forceful advice.

What you weren’t expecting was Jake to be sprawled out on your bed, his body akin to a limp starfish. He had been scrolling endlessly through his Instagram feed until you creaked open the door to your room.

A silent scream jolted your pulse. “Jaeyun, what the fuck are you doing here?” you asked.

“Jongseong told me to wait for you. He wanted to make sure you got home safe,” Jake said absentmindedly, like being in your bed is a natural occurrence by now.

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. “Helicopter Himbo couldn’t do that himself?”

“He linked up with some girl he knows…Dahyun I think was her name?”

You sighed. Of course Jay had to hook up with his high school ex when he had no other options to exhaust. You thought Jay had higher standards than that at this point in his life, but he was still Jay.

You nodded. The soles of your feet throbbed from wearing your heels longer than you intended to. You tried to hide the pain on your face, but Jake was quick to walk over to you and feign concern.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’m just slightly buzzed and I’d like to see the inside of my eyelids and forget how bad my feet hurt right now.” You released a breathless laugh. “You can text my doofus of a brother and tell him I’m in one piece.” 

You practically motioned your head towards the door, but Jake only smirked in response.

“Well, first things first, let’s take these off.” Before you knew it, Jake leaned down and began unbuckling the clasps of your stilettos for you. The sight made the alcoholic buzz running through your veins mutate into something sensual. You felt the ache between your legs as Jake’s fingers caressed the skin of your ankle as he was taking off your shoes for you, and immediately you remembered who he was.

This was wrong, and in no way going to happen. Not with someone who your brother confided in and loved so dearly. No matter how it felt every time you looked at him, or if he did intimate things like this that made you question everything.

“I meant what I said earlier you know,” Jake whispered. “And I wasn’t trying to take it back when Jongseong was grilling me about it.”

“I get it. He can be intense sometimes,” you mumbled.

“But you did look pretty. Fuck, you still do.” Jake chuckled to himself and positioned your feet out of the shoes and onto the carpet floor. The fabric felt cool against your toes, and instinctively you released a pleasurable sigh.

“So much better,” you moaned, smiling. “Thank you.”

Jake stood up, his grin infectious. “My pleasure.”

Neither of you moved, and admittedly you were glad Jake hadn’t made his exit yet. In the blur between your gratitude and onslaught of confusing feelings, the tether between your head and your body loosened. 

Then you were kissing him. You were kissing your brother’s best friend and enjoying it very much, an amalgamation of all the passing glances you threw at him when Jay wasn’t looking and the semi-flirty conversations coming to a head in your lips and tongue.

Jake was kissing you back with the same fervor, his hands roaming to the curve of your ass and groaning in your mouth at the sensation of your bodies touching.

“Fuck,” Jake swore and pulled you in tighter, clutching at the hem of your dress.

In a tangle of fingers and lips, you almost didn’t register the feeling of your mattress against your back and the cool air on your skin when Jake pulled the dress down your body. But you did relish in the feeling of his tongue between your legs and how deliciously he slipped inside of you afterwards. And by that point, there was no time to regret and worry about what would happen next. All that mattered was the present and savoring it.

Three weeks after that first encounter, it was easy to forget it ever happened. The next morning, Jay and Jake had gone back to campus without a word. That was normal for them, seeing as they woke early and didn’t want to disturb anyone in the house.

For you, it was a bit disheartening, but it proved exactly what you knew. It was a mistake and a potential repeat was nonexistent. “Jeong’ll never find out and this can stay buried,” you told yourself.

Jay was too busy with his studies to respond with anything but one-word answers to your texts after that, so you gave up initiating anything. Jake, however, began texting you often to either greet you in the morning or say he hoped you were having a good day. It was sweet, but you didn’t read too deep into it. You replied in kind and left it at that.

Then, the boys came back one Friday afternoon in Jake’s Tahoe, and your nerves were live wires at their impromptu arrival. You had not seen Jake since that night in your bedroom. You felt the heaviness of guilt when you welcomed Jay home with a hug. A secret shouldn’t have had the power to eat you alive,  but it did all the same.

And it didn’t help seeing Jake either. His smile took you back to the hours you had spent together in your bed. It was a kaleidoscope of memories. His hands on your hips, his whispers in your ear, his mouth in between your legs— 

“Yo!” Jay waved his hand in front of your face. “I asked if you could help us with the last duffel bag.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, walking over to the trunk. Jake’s shoulder brushed yours as you moved past him, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched. If you weren’t deluding yourself, you could’ve sworn you heard his throat catch in the same way.

You decided to leave the house that night, meeting up with a classmate to take your mind off of what was waiting at home. The Uber driver was polite, not bothering you as you were lost in your thoughts. Thankfully, the tequila sunrise you gulped down numbed your thought processes long enough that you could unwind and converse without rambling on about the situation you were in.

Then, you heard the ping of your phone and saw Jake’s message light up the screen.

Received at 11:23 PM: I’m picking you up. JS doesn’t want you taking an Uber when you’re not sober.

You sighed and typed back a reply with the hand not holding your drink. The words might have been mistyped, but you knew the message would get across to him.

Sent at 11:27 PM: im find u dont ned to come th last guy w nice.

Received at 11:29 PM: Sure. I’ll be there in 15.

You groaned. Jake could be as stubborn as your brother; it was no surprise the two of them became such good friends.

When Jake’s arrival came closer, you said goodbye and walked out of the bar, kicking your feet on the sidewalk gravel while you waited.

His truck’s lights came into full view a minute later. You got inside without a word, leaning your forehead against the passenger window. Just because he was being stubborn didn’t mean you had to be okay with it.

“Have fun?” Jake kept his focus on the road, but he sounded sincere when he asked about your night. While your heart swelled at the tone of his voice, it made the thoughts you tried so hard to suppress creep back in with full force. You were at a loss as to what to say. Honesty was off the table, but you weren’t capable of pulling your heart from your sleeve.

“I was. Not anymore.” You pouted.

You didn’t let him respond to your comment, instead looking around at his car’s interior and changing the subject. “I didn’t expect you to own a Tahoe.”

“What do you mean?” He asked with a chuckle.

“It’s so much space for one person.”

“Well, it was my dad’s truck. He gave it to me before I left for school. Now, I use it to go hiking and stuff with my dog, Layla.”

You smiled and leaned into the seat, looking at him. “That’s hard to believe.”

“That I have a dog or that I actually do physical activity? You’ve seen my body.”

You giggled and turned away. “I guess both. I’ve always wanted a dog, but Jungseong’s allergic. My parents thought plushies were a good compromise. And it all makes sense now. You can’t be that handsome naturally.”

Jake laughed harder. Without warning, he put his hand on your thigh, the feeling foreign yet incredibly welcome. You hummed in pleasure at the sensation. While you would’ve loved to enjoy the moment, your logic kicked in at the scene playing out in front of you.

“Jaeyun, you can’t just do that.”

“Why not? I wanted to,” he confessed, squeezing the curve of your knee. He moved his hand slowly across your skin.

You bit your lip and shook your head. “Just because you want to doesn’t mean you should.”

“Are we still talking about my hand or something else?” You gave him a stern but cutting look, the Are you kidding me evident in your eyes. It made Jake curse into the open air. “Fuck this.”

Jake pulled off into a vacant parking lot of a convenience store, one lamppost barely lighting the surrounding area. He put the car in park with an aggressive fist on the stick shift.

“Okay,” he started. “You want to talk about that night? Let’s talk about it.”

He inhaled a breath. You were terrified of what was unsaid and what he planned on saying, but you knew it was better to put it to rest sooner rather than later.

“I’m not sorry for what happened that night. I liked it and I liked you.” He looked directly into your eyes, his pupils dilating with extreme vulnerability. “I like you. And I’d like to repeat that night as many times as you want, but you’re my best friend’s sister and I don’t know how to accept those two things being true at once.”

You were taken back, his words the ones you wish you could have said to him before he left that morning. You tried to stamp down the truth many times since then, but Jake feeling the exact same way made you realize it wasn’t wrong to want what you wanted.

And Jay didn’t have to know everything.

“I do too,” you responded. “I like you too, and that night is all I’ve been thinking about.” You felt the knot in your stomach loosen, smiling in surprise from his confession. “And I would like to have more of those nights, for sure. In more than just my bed.”

Jake smirked and leaned in closer to you, lips ghosting over yours. “So if I said I wanted to fuck you in my car, you’d let me?”

You didn’t respond to that question with words, both of you knowing the question itself was rhetorical. You pressed your mouth to his hard.

The kiss was a clash of teeth and tongue, the act a desperate plea to pull each other closer after weeks of not being together. Now that you had Jake where you wanted him, you weren’t letting him go. 

Jake palmed one of your breasts over your shirt, and you partially broke away from his mouth to moan. He swallowed it, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

“You like that?” Jake asked, his voice husky.

“Fuck yes,” you said, knowing it was the truth. Nothing felt better than his touch on your skin.

He grabbed the side of your throat with his free palm. The other was hovering over the waistband of your shorts, his thumbs deftly unbuttoning them and dragging the zipper down.

“Tell me now if you don’t want this,” he panted. “And I swear I’ll stop.”

You shook your head vigorously. “If you stop right now, Jaeyun, I might just have to kill you.”

Jake gave you a crooked smile and kissed you again, harder than the first time but just as pleasurable.

His fingers dipped into your underwear, and you both groaned when he found your clit. He was surprised that the little amount of foreplay already made you this wet. You were just glad to have his fingers where you needed them the most.

You moved your hips in rhythm with his digits, the figure-eight patterns he was drawing into your skin creating stars behind your eyes. You released numerous whimpers and gasps into Jake’s mouth as he kept rubbing up and down your pussy, your clit receiving the most attention.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Jaeyun, I need you inside of me, please,” you begged. You gripped onto his shirt tightly to emphasize how bad the desire was to feel him stretch you open.

He nipped your lips again. “Climb in the back seat, baby.”

Jake followed in suit as soon as you moved from the passenger seat to the back. Once he sat down, you had his pants around his ankles and the head of his dick lined up with your entrance, your panties moved to the side to make room for him.

The fullness of his cock filling you to the hilt made your eyelids flutter. Jake knocked the back of his head into one of the headrests, the groan that left his mouth so beautiful you wished you could’ve replayed the sound on loop.

“God, you’re so tight.” He pushed his hips up further into you, the tip kissing your cervix. “It’s fucking incredible.”

You moaned in agreement. Beginning to grind his hips into yours, you licked and sucked the spot behind Jaeyun’s ear. You remembered how much he loved it the first night you had sex, and he loved it even more now that you were partially in control riding him.

He bucked up into you here and there, but for the most part, you were setting the pace. The sounds of your skin slapping against each other as well as both of your moan-laced expletives filled the back seat.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Bounce on this cock. Show me how much you want me.” He trapped your hips with his hands, holding on tight as you continued to grind against him.

“I want to come so bad, Jae,” you gasped. “Please make me come.”

Jake took his index and middle finger and found your clit again. He circled the nub with tenderness as you continued to ride him without mercy. He knew he could come at anytime with how well you were touching him and taking all of him inside of you, but he had no problem waiting until you found your pleasure first.

You felt the orgasm creeping up on you, starting in the pit of your stomach and ready to come to the surface. You begin to grow sloppy with your rhythm, and Jake took extra effort with his fingers to push you over the edge.

“Let go for me, love. Come all over me.”

You cried out, clutching onto Jake’s hair hard as you rode out your orgasm to its full capacity. Jake let go in that same moment, painting your insides white and cursing the entire time at how good it felt.

When you sat down next to him in the back seat, both of you sated and breathless, you knew the path forward was uncertain. And sure, a million questions still lingered in your mind, but you stored them away without a second thought, refusing to let them ruin your current happiness.

This led to where you were with Jake for the past six months, having sex every time he was in town and even sneaking off to visit him when you had the chance. He would pick you up in his truck and hold your hand across the console the entire drive to and from his student apartment. The two of you were skilled at keeping your trysts out of sight from Jay both in your hometown and on campus, the local spots he wanted to take you to and your favorite hometown stores not ones Jay frequented often.

At the same time, Jay had gotten back into a relationship with Dahyun, but you were optimistic for the both of them this time around. He seemed to be really happy, as were you, although he didn’t know the reason why. Dahyun would hang out with the guys and you when she got off work, and the four of you would drink and watch movies together like any other couples would.

The only part that didn’t fit such a picture perfect image was the fact you and Jake were not a couple at all. You slept together and did most things boyfriends and girlfriends did, but there were no labels. It was as if saying it out loud would make it real, and then you’d have to confront the biggest hurdle of all: telling your brother. And you were determined to put that off for as long as possible.

One morning, as you made breakfast in the kitchen for all three of you, Jake slid in behind you without you noticing. You gasped, feeling his chest against your back. “Jae, you can’t do that!”

“Couldn’t help it. Smelled pretty good in here,” Jake responded, kissing the spot that joined your neck and shoulder together, his hair tickling your ear in the process.

“I know, I can’t wait to eat it.”

“I was gonna say the same thing.” Jake smirked.

“Jae,” you reprimanded him, grinning. “Jongseong could come down at any second.”

“But he’s not. Last time I checked, he was still asleep.” The curve of his lips touched your collarbone, making you shiver.

“And when was that?”

In that moment, you both heard Jay yelling “I did it!” in tandem with his quick steps down the staircase. You both split apart in record time. Jake pretended he was searching for a drink in the fridge while you flipped the fried egg in the pan.

“I finally did it,” Jay exclaimed, a wide smile on his face directed at Jake.

“Did what?” Jake asked.

“I got you a date with Dahyun’s cousin Jihyo tonight. Dahyun’s been dying to go out to this new restaurant downtown, and I know you’ve been lacking in the pussy department lately.” You felt the saliva in the back of your mouth hit the wrong pipe, and you coughed.

“You okay, sis?” Jay asked, grabbing you by the shoulder.

“Yeah. Just choked for a second, sorry.” There was nothing wrong with Jake going out; he had no obligations to you. Yet, at the same time, the thought of him finding someone new felt like acid on your tongue.

Jay turned back to Jake, excitement filling his features again. “Come on man, you haven’t picked anyone up in what? Five months? Either your game got terrible or you’ve been holding out on me about some new chick.”

You plopped the fried egg on the plate next to you and motioned for Jake to pick it up. “Over medium, how you like it.”

“How do you know his egg order, freak?” Jay questioned you with a chuckle.

“I asked him this morning, dingbat. While you were snoring in your room and told me to leave so you could get your beauty rest.” Jay gave you the middle finger but you didn’t pay attention to him. You looked back at Jake with shy eyes. “You want toast?”

“No thank you,” Jake said with a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. You could tell when Jake was uncomfortable. His entire body grew stiff at the thought of being roped into a double date with a stranger.

But, avoiding suspicion, Jake said, “Sure man. Can’t promise I’ll be into her, though.”

Jay smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll take it.”

When Jay ran back upstairs to call Dahyun with the news, Jake dropped his plate back on the counter. He suddenly pinned you against it with his hands on your waist, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t have to go on this date if you don’t want me to.”

You shook your head, the faintest frown on your face, hoping it looked more like an expression of indifference. “If you don’t, Seongie’s going to ask more questions. Besides, we’re not together. You don’t have to ask for my permission.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” He furrowed his eyebrows. If there was one emotion you didn’t show him often, it was ice. But if the alternative was being emotionally exposed in that moment, you would choose the former.

“You know what I mean.” You broke free from his grasp, swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth. You turned off the stove and threw the sizzling pan into the sink. “Hope you have fun.”

Jake waited for you to elaborate, but after a minute of silence, he admitted his defeat and walked out of the kitchen. It cracked a piece of your heart to be so cold, but what other choices were on the table?

Once he was gone, you grabbed your phone from your pocket. Typing out the number in your mind and pressing the call button, you hoped the man you were looking for answered.

“Sunghoon?” You spoke, relieved he picked up. “I need a huge favor.”

“Do I have to?” Sunghoon groaned, straightening the collar of his polo shirt. “This is so ridiculous.”

“Hold my fucking hand, Hoon, or I swear to god I will tell Professor Choi you used my essay on Machiavelli for your paper.”

He released a low, agitated sound and put his hand in yours, squeezing your palm in retaliation. You smiled and walked into the restaurant. 

You didn’t go all out with your outfit. A simple dress and denim jacket fit with the atmosphere of the Brazilian barbecue joint Dahyun wanted to check out. Sunghoon also followed your instructions to the letter, looking presentable without trying too hard.

The hostess made you both wait fifteen minutes or so for a table. Even at 9 PM on a Saturday, past normal dinner time for most folks, the business was still bustling due to the word of mouth from their grand opening a week ago. It didn’t take long though for you to find Jay and Jake sitting at a table in a corner booth. It was like Jake’s presence in any tiny or expansive space was a magnet, pulling you in without giving you space to put up a fight.

“So that’s the guy,” Sunghoon stated, staring at Jake next to your brother. “He’s cute. I see why you’re in love with him.”

“Shut up!” You laughed and smacked him in the chest. He pretended to act hurt, smiling the entire time.

Your Humanities classmate might have been too sarcastic and vain for his own good, but you knew he was a good friend and would always come if you called. And while it was purely platonic, he didn’t mind playing the part of the arm candy for another free essay.

In the midst of your shared laughter, neither of you saw both Jay and Jake walking over to you. Jay’s cough pulled you out of your trance, and you stood stock still at the sight of Jake’s clenched jaw and crossed arms, immediately dropping Sunghoon’s hand in the process.

Jay said your name in annoyance. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hoon and I have class together, but we decided to have dinner after studying,” you say with a smile. “Funny we’d be at the same place as you guys!”

“You have my location, dipshit,” Jay said with a stone face.

“Just because I have it doesn’t mean I look at it,” you said in your defense.

Hoon held his hand out to both men, but you knew it was bait specifically meant for Jake. “Nice to meet you.”

Jake clenched his jaw even tighter. You thought he would break the bottom half of his face if he kept it up. To your surprise, he grabbed Sunghoon’s hand like a pure gentleman. Jay did the same.

You immediately felt so small. It didn’t have to be this way, trying to pull a front for this guy that wasn’t even yours. If it took this much effort to be exclusive, a title you didn’t fight for to begin with, maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

When Sunghoon let go of Jay’s hand, you grabbed him by the bicep. “We can just go somewhere else. We’ll probably wait another hour before getting a table if we stay, anyway.”

Jay agreed. “I had to book this in advance, so she’s probably right.”

Jake looked directly in your eyes when he said, “Hope you have fun.” Mirroring your words from earlier, Jake’s were laced with spiteful sarcasm.

Sunghoon put a hand on the small of your back and guided the two of you out of the restaurant. It took everything in you to not turn back and reveal it all in that stupid restaurant, but you circled back to your initial thoughts. What would it do attempting to claim him now? It was already pointless.

You didn’t make it home until midnight, spending the night scarfing down Chinese with Sunghoon in his apartment and watching old seasons of New Girl together. It was a bitch thinking about what it would be like when you got home. Jay would quiz you on Sunghoon and his motives or Jake would get defensive on what you were doing with the guy to begin with. Or both.

The last piece of advice Sunghoon left you with as he drove off was to “be honest” with Jake, if that was any bit as simple as it sounded coming out of his mouth.

You stepped inside your house without a care for your noise level, knowing your parents were off on an overseas conference for four days. And what were the chances the guys had gotten home by now?

 But, like the first night you had spent together, Jake was waiting up for you in your room, sitting stock straight with his hands in his lap.

You didn’t freak out or feel shocked by his presence. You were glad to see him actually, but greeting him with anything but a hello would have been inappropriate given the last few hours.

“Hi,” you began.

“Why have you been gone so long?” His voice was clipped, matter-of-fact but laced with authority. The mixture of sadness and anger in his face surprised you. Jake was always fun, silly, casual…never like this.

“I lost track of time.” It was the easiest answer to give him, even if it wasn’t enough to assuage his concerns. “We just ate takeout and watched sitcoms.”

He nodded and stood up. Walking closer to you, the emotions on his face registered to you so clearly now. The anger was simply misplaced pain, unsure where to go but in front of you for an answer. “What do you want from me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m asking you what this is, what are we doing here?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Seeing you tonight with that dickhead was all I thought about while eating that churrasco and listening to Jay’s dumb jokes. And if that’s against some unspoken rule, I need to know.”

You gulped down a heavy bubble of air. It was now or never. Choose to either lose the guy you had spent so much time with by keeping your feelings to yourself or risk him breaking your heart by being vulnerable.

“I don’t want you going on dates with anyone else.” You beginning with that wasn’t perfect, but you were out of ideas.

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Sunghoon’s a friend, but you’re my best friend. And you make me feel like nobody else ever has.” Your lip quivered. “I feel like an idiot for not saying it before, but I’ve liked you since the second Jay introduced all of us to you. And maybe all you want out of this is exclusive sex and I’m even more of an idiot for saying all of this but—”

Jake caught your mouth in a perfect kiss, effectively shutting you up. A tear passed between your lips, but he was all you tasted. He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes bright and expression full of mirth. “You’re a beautiful idiot, but still an idiot for not realizing I feel the same..”

You gasped. Grabbing his shirt, you pulled him back in hungrily.

The subsequent kisses and touches were ripe with the things you didn’t know how to say in words but could easily express with your body. Every kiss on his jaw told him how enraptured he made you feel. Each pass of your hands exploring his naked skin expressed why you saw nobody but him in the most crowded room. And when you took him into your mouth, you hoped Jake knew why it was so easy to fall for him and want nobody else.

“Just like that,” he said, tenderly grabbing your hair as you stroked what you couldn’t fit past your lips.

It didn’t last long. Jake pulled you in his arms and said, “I want to be inside you.” 

Jake held you as you sunk down onto him. Your legs were wrapped around his waist as he sat on the edge of the bed, rocking his hips up into you. No matter how many times you had sex, it still felt incredible feeling all of him fitting around the spaces inside of you. You wished he could occupy them forever.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed, clutching the hair at the nape of his neck. Your bodies were slick, foreheads touching but slippery from perspiration.

But it didn’t matter how loud you were being or how sweaty your skin became. All you could focus on was the words that came out of Jake’s mouth. “God, I love you so much.”

It didn’t make you slow down, instead riding him faster and kissing him fervently in response. You mewled into his mouth, feeling yourself coming undone quickly.

“I’m gonna come,” you announced.

“Right there with you, sweetheart. Come with me,” he said, and so you did. You felt the warmth of him inside of you in tandem with the downfall of your orgasm, siphoning every drop until you were spent.

When you were lying next to each other, however, you remembered those three little words that slipped from his mouth.

“You said you loved me,” you stated in post-coitus bliss, covering half of your face with your comforter.

“So what if I did?” He was glowing, and it only made you smile harder. “So what if I do?”

You smirked and pecked his lips sweetly, nipping his bottom lip. “I love you too, you goof.”

You woke up next to each other that morning, both in a euphoric daze despite your fatigue. You also took into account how you now held the title of Jake’s girlfriend, a majority of the reason why you were a thousand leagues above cloud nine. Jake showed his joy in the form of his tongue pressed to your clit. 

But it didn’t last for long.

You weren’t fast enough to cover yourself when Jay barged in asking whether or not you had seen Jake at all. Little did he know he would find his best friend in the last place he ever expected.

Which led to now, your brother interrogating the two of you like you committed the worst crime humanly possible. In a way, you could see why he would think such a thing.

“So you kiss my sister—” Jay starts.

You cut him off, grabbing Jake’s hand. “I kissed him first.”

“Then you decide to hook up in my car.”

“It was actually my car.” Jake counters, squeezing your fingers with his own.

“And now I find you guys here in your room”—Jay looks directly at you—“just doing whatever the fuck you were doing before I came in.” His face is red from the shock. “How long has this been going on?”

“Six months,” Jake says.

Jay takes a deep breath of air into his lungs, his body rising and falling at a rapid rate. He’s probably grateful your parents can’t hear him yelling. Otherwise they’d come in and ask more invasive questions while you’re not in the position to answer them, half naked and all.

“And where was I while you guys were fucking behind my back?” Jay asks, darting his eyes between the both of you.

“Hanging out between Dahyun’s legs?” You hypothesize, throwing your other hand in the air. “How the hell are we supposed to remember?”

“And you expect me to believe you kissed his scrawny ass first?” Jay asks you.

“Dude, you’ve seen me shirtless,” Jake remarks, rolling his eyes.

 “True, but it’s not much of a show, bro.”

“Seriously, this is not the point!” You yell, placing your face in your hands.

“Yes it is! You’re my sister!”

“And she’s my girlfriend,” Jake interrupts, “so you need to get your head out of your ass and stop acting like she’s not capable of taking care of herself.”

Jake stands up to Jay, the two of them face to face with each other in a way you expected when your relationship came out of the shadows. You don’t want Jay to feel betrayed, but at the same time, it will kill you if Jake gets hurt trying to stick up for you.

“My priority will always be looking out for my family.” Jay turns to you, disappointment clear as day in his eyes. “No matter how I’ve shown it, I didn’t expect to be branded the bad guy for wanting to protect you.”

Jay slams the door on his way out. Tears prick your eyes, silence permeating the bedroom.

Jake sits back down next to you and places a few kisses on the curve of your shoulder. “Believe it or not, but I think he took it better than I thought he would.”

“He hates me,” you sob.

“He doesn’t hate you. Maybe me, but never you.” Jake takes your hand and kisses the inside of your palm, tucking it gingerly between his fingers. “Nobody could ever hate you.”

“I need to fix this, though.” You swiftly kiss Jake’s lips before standing up to get dressed, throwing on a pair of gym shorts and one of his shirts you stole. When you go to Jay’s room, it’s empty. But you hear the faint notes of a guitar from somewhere on the first floor of the house.

You walk down the stairs to find Jay strumming his favorite Yamaha in the living room, the one your father brought home from a trip to Japan for Jay as his graduation present. You step towards his spot on the couch quietly, but he’s already too adept at sensing your presence. He stops playing but says nothing.

“Hey,” you say.

“Don’t.” Jay’s voice is gruff. “Don’t ‘hey’ me right now.”

“Well, if you’re looking for an apology, I’m not going to give you one.”

The two of you are silent, unsure where to take the conversation next. What was there to say? Yes, you felt guilty for keeping Jay in the dark, but either way, the situation would hurt him. His best friend and his younger sister falling in love is not ideal, but feelings couldn’t be fought. All the same, the deceit sat in your stomach like a stone, begging to be thrown away.

You sigh and sit down on the love-seat, adjacent to Jay’s spot on the couch. “I really like him, Seongie,” you confess. “No. I, actually—I love him.”

Jay looks directly at you for the first time, his eyes a bit puffy. “Are you happy?”

“What?”

“Are you happy? Does he treat you well?”

You laugh. “I mean we’ve only been a couple for about 12 hours, so—”

“You know what I mean, asshat.” The two of you share a laugh together, the mood much lighter than before. “Do you see a future with him?”

You nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then I can’t get in between that. I just wish one of you would’ve fucking said something.”

“And I would’ve, but you know Jaeyun.”

Jay nods. “He’s a wimp.”

“No,” you shake your head, smiling. “He just didn’t want to hurt you either. He loves you, and I love you, too.” You run a hand through your hair, contemplating your next words. “I’m just not a baby anymore, Jongseong. I know how to handle things.”

Jay nods, sniffling. “I know. It’s just…hard.”

“What is?”

He puts his guitar by his side. Clapping his hands together, he tries to brush off whatever emotion is surfacing. “It’s nothing, I don’t know. Stupid, probably.”

You move positions to sit closer to your brother, placing a hand on his knee. “Nothing you say to me could ever be stupid.”

He knocks you in the shoulder with his fist lightly. “It’s just—when did you get so grown up? You gotta stop doing that.”

“If I did, I’d be dead.”

“True.” Jay chuckles. “I’m sorry for freaking out.”

“I’m sorry for keeping it from you. And I hope you and Jaeyun can talk, too.”

“We will. For now, I’m just glad we did.”

Nodding, you open your arms for a hug, a hug that Jay gladly accepts. It’s a tight one that encompasses both a white flag of retreat and a sincere love for you that you forget to remember sometimes in the midst of his teasing and admonishment. You now know, more than ever, it’s his way of protecting you and proving he cares.

And you’re grateful to have both him and now Jake by your side through all your successes and slip-ups.

“You don’t seriously think I’m okay with you wearing that dress again now that you have a boyfriend, right,” Jay asks. “I’m even more against it because Jake will have a heart attack.”

You chuckle and twirl in the mirror, checking the back of your dress to make sure it’s sitting right on you. “He thought I looked pretty in it the first time.”

“Well now, he’s not worried about you looking pretty. He’s worried about other douchebags checking you out.” Jay flips the page of his book, trying to feign a nonchalant expression. “I’m just saying, he’s still my best friend. I know things.”

You poke your tongue out at your brother. The doorbell rings and you rush to answer, your heart beating at a vigorous pace in your chest.

Once you open the door, Jake’s standing there with a bouquet of flowers and a lopsided grin on his face. When he sees your dress, however, his smile falters a fraction.

“Oh my god, Jay was right!”

“I usually am,” Jay yells from his space in the sitting room armchair.

Jake looks confused, but the realization dawns on him in a flash. “No, you look beautiful. It’s just…a bit short, don’t you think?”

You pout, crossing your arms. “I spent so much time getting ready, Jae.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He takes his free hand and rests it on your hip. “And everyone will be able to see that. I just don’t want to have to fight anyone off at the restaurant.”

You giggle. Going in for an impromptu kiss, you smell the traces of his cologne. The scent could make your knees buckle, but you try to stay confident and lull your boyfriend into submission. “I’ll only be looking at you. And I can defend myself just fine, baby.”

Jake’s bottom lip juts out. “So, I can’t convince you to change?”

You shake your head, grinning.

Jay sneaks up behind you, making you gasp. “If she isn’t gonna listen to her brother, she’s definitely not gonna listen to you, man.”

Jay and Jake exchange a handshake. You’re relieved their relationship has recovered from the reveal of your relationship, but you know that means they have the potential to gang up on you more out of their misguided sense of protection.

“I have the advantage though. She’s in love with me,” Jake sing-songs, kissing you on the cheek after doing so.

“Regardless,” you say, “I’m wearing the dress.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Just change, for fuck’s sake.”

Jake nods. “Pretty please?”

“Not a chance in hell, boys.”

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Big Guy Big Belly

König is a big man, and with a big man comes a big appetite. We’re talking about a 6’10 man constantly maintaining his peak physique. He needs to be consuming as many calories and as much protein, carbs, fats, fiber and more to keep himself in fit and fighting shape.

At the canteen, he’s a nightmare. I bet that people rush to the cafeteria just to make sure they get something to eat before the big man on base rolls up. He’ll clear out the bins if he gets a chance. There’s a rumour on base that the reason König fought so hard to climb the ranks so quickly was just to be able to eat more and get away with it. Little do they know that they’re absolutely right, but König will never say that out loud. Ever. There’s some secrets you take to your grave. 

Either way, König is a menace in the canteen. He’ll pile his plate as high as he can when he gets a chance. He’s packing away all he can get in the shortest amount of time he can, and everyone has to suffer for it. The worst part is that everyone has to rush to get to the caf before König, and König knows exactly what others are doing, so he’s in a daily race against the entire base to eat his fill. It’s always a photo-finish to see who gets to the cafeteria first.  König currently has been slacking, so he’s not been eating like he normally has. Is he mad? Not really. He’ll clean out the snack cart later. 

He’s a monster late at night. Everyone knows that you need to leave the big man to his snacks, lest you face the wrath of the colossus on base. Well, wrath in a peculiar way. He just gets quiet and angry, but it’s still not a fun experience to try and fight him for a sandwich. If you take the last egg salad sandwich you’ll be at the top of his shit list for the next week. Don’t even think he won’t track you down. He’ll throw around his rank just to get his hands on the poor bastard. Nobody is safe, either.

Stiletto only once took the last pudding cup. Once. She never made that mistake again. For a week he was giving her dirty looks over a cold shoulder as he bumbled down the hall. She eventually had to give in and sacrifice a desert to be able to get back in his good graces. She still thinks he’s a massive bitch because of it. And you know what? She’s right. Everybody knows she’s right, König included, but he’ll keep going after whoever ‘steals’ ‘his’ snacks. They get along a bit better now that they’ve both advanced in rank and worked together, but there was a good period of time where Stiletto had to sleep with one eye open.

It gets a bit better for everyone when König finally finds a partner and doesn’t stay on base so often. Everyone takes a moment to pray for the poor soul who has to cook for König whenever he gets home from deployment.

See, during deployment, König can’t be such a massive bitch about food. He gets his rations, and that’s that. He can’t steal from anybody else, so he gets stuck with these pitiful MREs that barely fill him up. It’s miserable, and he’s losing weight like crazy when on the field. He’s running on fumes and burning calories like crazy as he’s risking his life out there. It’s gotten to a point where König has taken to eating with hostages post-rescue to ‘help them feel safer’ (read: get more food into his gullet). Thankfully, he puts his best foot forward when dealing with victims of trauma and ensures that he has somebody else do all the socializing while he plays with the kids after dinner. Apparently, after the inevitable shower of tears whenever kids have to face König, he becomes pretty popular. They love to use him as a jungle gym (and make fun of him) and he’s just happy to get more to eat. He’ll take being called ‘bigger than even my dad!’, being told ‘you’re weird’ or being asked ‘why are you so big and scary all the time?’ any day for a little extra to eat. He can tolerate a few kids. He won’t ever admit that hanging around them makes him want some kids of his own, or at least not to Horangi, who’s already teasing König about being a surrogate father to the kids. König tells him to keep it to himself, but Horangi is already buying things for the baby shower.

Once König finally comes home, that’s when all Hell breaks loose. This man has been starving and he needs food NOW. He won’t take no for an answer. If you don’t have something prepared, he’ll be ordering a massive order of takeout the likes of which you’ve never seen before in your life. He’ll hit multiple places on his way back to your place if he doesn’t think you’ve been able to get something together for him. If you can’t cook, he won’t even bother telling you to cook for him and just focus on getting a whole banquet of junk food ready for when he arrives home. He brings the pizzas in the door before he even brings in his own bags. You’ll have to go out and grab his bag as he sets up his personal buffet table. The worst part is despite how much he can shove down, he always buys more than he can eat, so you’ve got a couple of days worth of food to shove in the fridge at the end of the night.

If you can cook, this is a multi-day experience. Is it rewarding? Absolutely. Is it painful? Abso-fucking-lutely. He’s got you slaving for hours a day just to get him a nice home cooked meal. You’ll be going all out to get him a big enough meal. We’re thinking a tray of mac and cheese, a whole roast chicken, easily a handful of loaded baked potatoes. If you have something from your traditional cuisine, he’s not picky, he’ll gobble it up in a heartbeat. Knowing you made it for him is more than enough for him. Food is the way to a man’s heart, some say, and König will never let you go if you treat him like the king he is.

The good thing about cooking König such a big meal is that he gives back. He’s not a fan of cooking, but for the next few days he’ll take over cooking and cleaning in the kitchen. It’s just an easy way for him to give back, you know? He can’t thank you enough with words, so why not with actions?

But the best part of König giving back is that he’s an excellent cook. He cooks mostly traditional food from his culture, but he’s down for some french or italian cooking if you’re into it. He can make a mean lasagne. He does not skimp on the cheese, this man. No he’s a cheese fiend. If you’re lactose intolerant, you’ve got another thing coming for you. He will hand feed you lactaid just for the meal. If you have a dietary restriction, he’ll learn how to cook your types of meals in abundance. He’s perfect that way. Vegetarian, vegan, keto, no matter what, he’s got your back. He’s learned how to make an excellent spread for a dinner party, and part of learning to cater to others is to work around other people’s diets; his mother drilled that rule into his little head as a kid. He does it without complaint, too. For at least a week after coming home, he’s just so happy to be around food in abundance again. He’s absolutely thriving in the kitchen before the thrill wears off and he’s back to avoiding cooking like the plague again.

He loves to eat, but usually hates to cook. He’ll mostly eat takeout until he actually has to eat a nutritious meal again for a change. It’s not that cooking is awful, it’s just that he hates doing the dishes. He’d be far more inclined if he didn’t have to do the dishes afterwards. If you take over dishes, he’ll definitely step up his game for the both of you.

All in all, König loves to eat. He’s a big man with a bigger appetite, as hard as that is to believe. Once he retires he has to learn to cut back a fair bit, but he never loses his taste for sweets and snacks. It’s just something you’ll have to learn to live with.

[sombreset]

I’m still not over Deadpool & Wolverine: WWIII. At all.

(Spoilers, also cw for blood and gore and just. Weird imagery)

There’s SO much stuff that happens in this comic, way more than I am posting here, that really digs deep into why Wade and Logan are so intertwined. They both suffered horribly. They’re both near immortal. They’ll both outlive everything they know. They both have rage that doesn’t ever seem to go away, they just have very different coping mechanisms.

This comic LITERALLY intertwines them, in more than one way.

First example is the one most people talk about, which is the whole thing where Logan cuts off a chunk of his own leg and cooks it for Wade so he has at least something to eat (is it gay to make the decision to cut off a piece of yourself and give it to another man so he has something to eat, even tho you both technically don’t need to eat, it just helps? Who knows)

Second example is the end of the comic, which I wish more people would talk about. While they’re fighting a big bad, Wade gets torn apart. Like… crushed. Into pieces. Past the point where Logan thinks regenerative healing can save him. And Logan is, despite all his complaining of how much he doesn’t like Wade, destroyed. Scared, and as the big bad points out— afraid.

Logan then goes into an absolute blind rage. He’s in pain. He’s scared. He genuinely thinks he lost Wade, and he loses it.

All the while, a small voice can be heard telling him to stop. Begging him to stop. He’s lost control. The antagonists of the comics wanted this, and while Logan is thrashing around they intentionally teleport him in front of a mother and child, fully expecting Wolverine to not tell the difference between friend or foe and kill them. Logan certainly cannot tell what he’s doing at this point. He can hardly see.

And then…

Suddenly, Wade. Because some of Wade’s blood got into Logan, he literally grew OUT of him, just in time to stop him from murdering innocent people. Because Logan had fully lost control. Wade pleads with him to stop, and in the end he literally pulls out one of Logan’s bones and shoves it into his face to get him to actually snap out of it. Afterwards, they have a lot of really good conversation, but to avoid clogging this post more— tldr Wade calms Logan down, and tells him “Nobody can decide we’re monsters but us.” Which… I love.

Later on after the fight, there’s this funny panel (and a few before) where Wade’s like dude we are sharing your ass AND dick rn isn’t that crazy and then yeah he makes the comment about being “in” Logan which. Nice

Anyways crazy b/c by the end of this comic, parts of Logan have literally been inside of Wade (chunk of Logan’s leg eaten by Wade) and ALL of Wade has been in Logan (he fucking grew out of him)

This comic is VERY good go read it if you haven’t

[trainsinanime]

Perfection

It’s been months and I still think we’re not talking enough about Cloud Kagami in Perfection. I think Cloud Kagami is one of the most haunting, most beautiful but also sad akumas in the show. Most people will probably point to Chat Blanc as the winner in that category, and fair’s fair, you can’t argue with that body count. But for me, Cloud Kagami wins because she’s less literal, more metaphorical.

Kagami is depressed and lonely in this episode. She feels isolated, like she doesn’t fit in. And so her akuma persona doesn’t do anything offensive - she just physically doesn’t fit in. Her mental image of herself is too large, too weird, but also hollow, without substance. Not even that something was stolen from her; she feels like maybe she was never real at all.

The whole thing comes with a perspective shift for her. She’s too tall to see the small stuff, and she’s can’t even see the people anymore. Paris for her is just streets and buildings, a view like from a map. She is no longer able to see it as a place made up of people.

Swifties will of course recognise that this is exactly the same feeling and imagery as in the song Antihero:

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby And I’m a monster on the hill Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city Pierced through the heart, but never killed

And it comes to a head when Kagami says that she might just fade away, and that it would be better that way. This is the only episode where the danger is not the akuma doing something bad, but the akuma dying. That’s really harsh.

On the flip side, it’s so important that Kagami doesn’t shrink down or becomes invisible. She is here, and we and the characters see and share in her pain. Our heroes know what’s going on and are worried about her. When Kagami says nobody would miss her, would notice when she’s gone, she’s categorically wrong. She is actually this huge presence, literally, in the city. She just can’t see and comprehend it, because her depression makes it impossible for her to recognise how much the people around her care.

I think this story is really harrowing, but I also love how beautifully they wrote and rendered it. This is really a stealth greatest episode of the show.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hold My Hand

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Jack Kline & teen!reader

Requested by @gabrielasilva1510

Synopsis: you and Jack are always there for each other

Warnings: fighting, people want to kill Jack, angst with a happy ending, probably continuity errors because season 12-14 is kind of a blur to me

“We have to find her.”

“We don’t even know where to start.”

“There’s gotta be something we can do, she can’t have gotten far.”

“Why don’t we just let her go?”

All eyes turned to you when you interrupted Team Free Will in the middle of an argument.

“That’s not an option,” Dean scoffed. “She’s carrying Lucifer 2.0, we’ve got to stop her before he’s born.”

“Just because Lucifer’s his dad, doesn’t mean he’s gonna be evil,” you argued. “He didn’t do anything, and if Kelly wants to have this baby, why should we stop her?”

“It will kill her,” Cas said.

“And yet she said she wants to have him anyway,” you countered.

“Whoa whoa, can we back up to when I said, Lucifer’s son?” Dean said. “It’s evil, we kill it, no argument.”

“It’s not like he’s done anything!” You said. “He’s innocent! He didn’t ask to have Lucifer for a dad, and he can’t be evil before he’s even born.”

“Look, does any of this matter?” Sam cut in before the argument could get more heated. “We can’t find Kelly, so there’s nothing we can do yet anyway.”

“Fine,” Dean huffed. “But when we find her, there’s no argument. We can’t take a chance with that thing.”

“He’s not a thing, Dean.” You glared at your brother, but nobody said anything more to continue the argument.

…

The argument was inconsequential—you didn’t find Kelly in time. Well, you and your brothers didn’t.

But Cas did, and he paid the price.

You didn’t reach Jack fast enough to stop Dean from shooting him, and once he knocked the three of you out and disappeared you weren’t able to stop Dean from going on a hunt to end him. Once Cas was gone, Dean was more convinced than ever that killing Jack was right, and you just didn’t seem able to get Dean to listen to you anymore.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sam observed when the two of you got a moment away from Dean.

“Why won’t he listen?” You sighed. “I-I know he’s hurt because of Cas, but we all are. Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean it’s Jack’s fault, and it’s not fair to hunt him down because of it.”

“Jack?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Well, I think. I saw it painted on the wall in Kelly’s house, I think that’s what she wanted to name him. He’s not just Lucifer’s son, Sam, no matter what Dean thinks. He has a name, and he doesn’t have to be evil just because Lucifer’s his dad, or-or because Kelly died in childbirth, or because Cas died to protect him. Those are all decisions that other people made, not Jack.”

“I understand what you’re saying. I just don’t think Dean does.”

“I’ve tried to tell him,” you said. “I’ve tried a hundred times. He doesn’t want to listen.”

“I know,” Sam said. “But he’s in pain. We’ve got to cut him some slack.”

“If we cut him too much slack, then we’re just signing Jack’s death warrant.” You sighed. “I can’t do that, Sam. If I do, then Kelly and Cas died for nothing.”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but closed it quickly when he saw Dean returning to the Impala.

…

Finding Jack wasn’t as hard as Dean was afraid it would be. On the way to a lead, Sam and Dean restarted the argument about Jack.

“I’m sorry, are you defending the son of Satan?” Dean scoffed after Sam tried to calm Dean down.

“I’m not defending anything, it’s just—“

“I am,” you butted in. “The only reason Jack attacked us is because you shot him!”

“Hey!” Dean smacked his hand against the steering wheel. “I shot the monster, that’s what we do!”

“Jack’s not a monster!” You blurted.

“Jack?” Dean scoffed. “It’s Lucifer’s son, not some new best friend. And he killed Kelly, and…” Dean’s voice stuttered. “And Cas…”

“Jack didn’t kill them!” You insisted. “They wanted to protect him, that doesn’t make it his fault!”

Dean opened his mouth to yell at you, his fingers whitening on the steering wheel, when Sam interrupted.

“Guys, we’re here.”

Dean gritted his teeth as he pulled into the parking lot.

“The only plan I have right now is killing that thing before he kills anyone else.”

“Is Cas…” Sam swallowed. “Is Cas really gone?”

“You know he is.”

…

Once the three of you finally tracked Jack to a police station, Sam managed to taser him before the three of you got arrested by the very suspicious cop.

You and Sam were left with Jack in a holding cell while Dean talked to the woman—no doubt, he was trying to convince her to help him kill Jack. At least, that’s what you were afraid of. Even Sam, who you considered much more on your side, was pressing himself against the farthest wall from Jack when he woke up.

Once Jack relaxed and his yellow eyes faded, you approached him even as Sam held back.

“Y/N…” Sam whispered warily, but you ignored him, opting to sit next to Jack on a hard metal bench. Jack watched you silently for a moment before offering a small smile and turning his attention back to Sam, who was trying to ask him some questions.

“Will you tell them I’m sorry?” Jack asked him. You saw the guilt in his eyes, and it twisted your gut—Jack had never meant to hurt anyone, and he must’ve been so scared when Dean shot him.

“Um…yeah,” Sam agreed.

Sam continued to question him, and you continued to remain by Jack’s side. You were sure it was making Sam nervous—his eyes kept glancing towards you, and his hands were twitching, as though he was prepared to act at any moment. But you could also tell that it was calming Jack. The changes were subtle, but you could almost feel rather than see him…not leaning in your direction, but more like relaxing towards you, like a flower growing towards sunlight.

Once Jack announced that he’d had to grow up quickly because the world was dangerous, you felt yourself understanding him more and more. Sam seemed to relax when Jack claimed that Castiel was his chosen father, not Lucifer. The more Jack spoke, the more the two of you realized that this was not some monster, some devil-spawn—he was just a kid.

And it all was going so well until Dean returned.

Jack was still stiff and silent after learning that Cas was dead, so he didn’t acknowledge Dean’s presence. You wanted to go and make sure that Dean didn’t still plan to kill Jack, but Sam beat you to Dean, and you didn’t want to leave Jack alone. Still, you listened carefully as Sam tried to convince Dean that Jack was just a kid.

The brothers were interrupted by a cry for help—Dean went to investigate, leaving the three of you stranded in the cell. He wasn’t gone thirty seconds when to angels broke down the door. Once they were inside, Jack doubled over in pain, stumbling against the wall.

“Jack!” You cried out, reaching over and steadying him. One of the angels ripped the door off its hinges, and Sam and the angel fought while you stayed by Jack’s side, keeping yourself between him and the other angel.

Sam was on the floor in a minute, overwhelmed by the angel. You were conflicted for a moment—did you help Sam, or Jack?—but the angel ignored Sam once he was on the floor, going straight to Jack. It only took one swift blow to get you out of the way, your head slamming painfully against the rough stone wall of the jail cell.

“Jack…” you whimpered, watching as the angels grabbed him and marched him towards the exit.

“Hey!” Sam yelled, and you turned to see him press his bloody palm against the angel-repelling symbol he’d finger-drawn in blood. The angels were gone in a bright flash of light, and Jack remained, kneeling in pain by the door.

“Jack.” You jumped to your feet, staggering a little as the blood rushed to your head, but you still managed to reach Jack and grab hold of his shoulder. “Jack, are you ok?”

Before he could answer, the door slammed open to reveal a third and final angel wielding an angel blade. Sam grabbed one the other angel had dropped and jumped in front of Jack. You stayed right by Jack’s side as he stood to his feet.

“Don’t.” Sam said.

“Or what, other one?” The Angel scoffed.

“Guess.” Dean grunted, entering right behind her.

You felt your hand subconsciously finding Jack’s as you took a half-step forward, trying to block his body with your own. You saw Jack glance at you out of the corner of your eye—he looked confused—but his hand squeezed yours even tighter.

“If I can’t have him, no one can,” the angel promised, twisting her blade and driving into Jack’s chest.

“No!” You cried as Sam killed her with one swift jab. The three of you watched with bated breath as Jack grabbed hold of the angel blade and slowly removed it.

“I…I’m fine,” he breathed.

Sam and Dean stared at each other, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bloody hole in the middle of Jack’s chest.

“I’m fine,” Jack repeated, his hand once again finding yours.

…

You sat with Jack while Sam and Dean discussed the options. It didn’t take long to decide—Jack would be going with you. Of course, you were almost certain that it was because Dean was looking for a way to kill him, but you would take what you could get for now.

You finally separated from Jack when the four of you returned to the cabin. Dean went in to prepare Cas’s body, and Jack wanted to see his mother one last time. You couldn’t bring yourself to go in—to see what you’d lost. So you waited outside until both bodies were brought out to burn.

You saw Sam speaking to Jack while Dean poured gasoline on the pyre, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen. Sam and Dean spoke, but it was like you were in a play, one where two characters went off to talk but no one else on stage was supposed to hear what they were saying. Their words weren’t quiet, and they were mere inches from you, but you couldn’t make it out anyway. Then Dean tossed his lighter into the fire, and you watched as flames engulfed the two covered bodies. You wanted to look away—to close your eyes, as if that would somehow make anything better—but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. You felt like an unwilling witness to the burning blaze that took your friends away—away to somewhere better, you hoped. The smoke rose up, and you watched it as if hoping to see their souls rising with it—off to a better world, a world without so much pain.

Jack’s hand on your arm snapped you out of your daze. He looked for a moment as if he didn’t know what he was doing. But then his hand found yours, and you felt it—a reassuring squeeze. His hand was warm, and his touch was comforting. Your gaze met his for the briefest of moments, before both of you looked back at the fire.

But not before your hand squeezed his back.

…

“I don’t like that,” Dean grumbled to Sam. Sam looked at him, confused, and Dean gestured to the back seat. Jack was asleep against the window, and somewhere along the line you’d gone from sleeping on your own window to sleeping on Jack’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t be letting her get that close to it. As soon as we figure out how to kill a nephilim, he’s gone.”

“Dean, we don’t know that he’s evil,” Sam reasoned.

“Yes we do, Sam. And every time we try to cheat, try to pretend that the bad guys aren’t so bad, people end up dead. So now we’re gonna do what we should always do—end the problem.”

Both boys halted their conversation when they saw you stir—getting you involved would only make the argument worse; they knew where you stood on the issue.

“Dean, the problem might be the only way to save mom,” Sam argued.

“Mom is gone.”

…

You awoke to a blinding motel sign blinking above the Impala.

“We should be on the road,” Dean was arguing to Sam.

“Dean, you were hallucinating sheep. We need a few hours,” Sam countered.

“This is nice!” Jack said enthusiastically when he saw the dingy, near-rotting motel room. You found yourself smiling at his eagerness while Sam and Dean dropped their bags on the ground.

“Wow,” Jack breathed when he turned on the tv and a Scooby-Doo episode started playing. “This is…wonderful.”

You grinned, settling down next to him on one of the beds to watch, when Dean stepped over.

“Hey, no,” he said, moving to turn it off. He hesitated when he saw the show, almost smiling at what it was. You were just starting to hope that Dean was coming around when the smile dropped and he clicked the tv off. “You’re on the couch sport, move,” he said to Jack. “Y/N, I guess you’re sharing my bed tonight.” Dean snatched a bible off the counter and tossed it to Jack. “Here, why don’t you read a book.”

“I’m gonna stay up for a little bit,” you said, going to sit by Jack on the couch. Dean pursed his lips, but said nothing.

Sam left and returned quickly with burgers. The four of you chowed down—you watched as Jack started to mimic all of Dean’s movements, and you had to bite back a smile when Dean started to get annoyed with it.

After dinner, you dozed off. Sometime in the night, Donatello arrived, but you didn’t wake until you started to hear raised voices. You sat up on the couch and noticed Jack next to you. He was watching Sam, Dean, and Donatello argue about him—mostly Sam and Dean.

“He doesn’t have to be evil!” Sam was saying. “We don’t know that he isn’t more like Cas and Kelly than Lucifer!”

“I’m right here you know!” Jack argued, but no one listened.

“Yeah but he’s not Kelly, not Cas, he’s the freakin devil!”

You flinched in surprise when Jack disappeared from next to you. Dean turned to look at him, growling in annoyance when he saw Jack was gone.

“Nice going, Dean,” you huffed, jumping to your feet and running out to find Jack. You slammed the door in Dean’s face before he could respond.

…

“Hey Jack.” You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Jack, sitting on a crate in an alleyway outside of the motel. You had a feeling he could’ve just as easily transported himself to Hawaii, so you were more than relieved that he hadn’t gone far.

Jack tucked his head into his arms as if trying to escape you.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Everyone was so angry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed.

“I guess you just wanted to be away from it all.” You hadn’t noticed Sam following you until he spoke.

“And suddenly, I was,” Jack sighed. You felt your gut twist at the guilt in his voice—he didn’t want his power, you could feel it. It must be so overwhelming for him, to just think or feel something and have it happen.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “I’ll tell you what, you’ve got some special skills, Jack. We just need to make sure you get a grip on them, so you don’t hurt anybody.”

“Is that why Dean hates me?” Jack asked, and you had to remind yourself to stay calm—you loved Dean, but right now you’d never wanted to hit him more.

Jack and Sam continued to talk about Dean, and about Jack’s own powers, but again you found your mind wandering. You didn’t know what to do, but for some reason you felt that more than anything, you wanted to protect this kid. You’d never met anyone like him—he was so kind, so inquisitive, so bright and happy—and you felt like he was someone you needed in the world.

“I just don’t know if I’m worth all this.” Jack’s tearful confession brought you back to the present.

“You’re mom thought you were,” Sam told him. “So did Cas. So do I.”

“Me too,” you jumped in. “Jack, I believe you can control your powers. And I believe that you deserve a chance here. I believe that you’re worth that.”

You weren’t sure if he moved or if you did, but somehow Jack’s hand was grasped in yours once again. It just felt right—like he was a wind chime, beautiful when moved in the right direction, and you were the string holding him up—you made each other better; you made each other work.

…

Dean’s relationship with Jack didn’t change much after you guys brought him back to the bunker—even after Jack saved you all from Asmodeus. Dean tried his best to keep you away from Jack, but he was never successful. The only thing he could do was never leave you alone in the bunker with him—which he made sure to do.

That plan backfired one day when Dean took you with him for a supply run—he didn’t need you, but you’d been “spending too much time with the devil’s kid” recently, so he took you out anyway.

Which would have been fine, if a certain Knight of Hell hadn’t been on the loose.

You’d wandered away from Dean in the parking lot—he was heading inside the store, but you turned off at the last moment, something catching your eye in the alleyway just outside. You didn’t know what it was, or why you turned; instinct, maybe. Nonetheless, you hadn’t taken two steps into the alley when you heard—

“Ah, yes. You’ll do nicely.”

—and you felt something smack the back of your head with a sickening crunch, bringing darkness to your vision and numbness to your bones, before you suddenly couldn’t feel anything at all.

…

Pain. After a time, it was all you remembered. You woke to it every day, and passed out from it every night. At least, that’s how you imagined it—you couldn’t tell the difference between night and day in the dank, gloomy stone tomb that you’d spent the last few…days? Weeks?—in. You didn’t know anymore. It didn’t matter anymore.

The slow scrape of stone on stone forewarned more pain as you sagged against the rusted chains that bit into your bloody-soaked wrists.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name was jarring in a place where your identity never seemed to matter. You struggled to lift your head, seeing first the shadow of the stranger, then his shoes, all the way until you could make out the silhouette of a face.

“Y/N! Dean, I found her!”

The voice felt familiar, but in an indistinct way; like seeing someone who recognized you, but you couldn’t place their face.

Large hands on your face had all the breath leaving your lungs as you whimpered in fear.

“Hey, hey it’s ok. N/N it’s me, you’re ok.”

The name came to you as if from a nearly-forgotten dream.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Sam’s voice was gentle as he reached over and started to work at the locks holding your chains in place. You didn’t notice Dean approaching, but when your chains gave way and your knees buckled, Dean was there to catch you.

“It’s ok sweetheart. We’re gonna take you home.”

…

You’d been in your room for three days. Sam and Dean had been going in and trying to coax you out, but you hadn’t moved, spoken, or even had anything to eat. Dean had kept Jack out of your room completely, despite both Jack and Sam’s protests.

“Look, I know you don’t trust him, but he and Y/N…they’ve connected, Dean. She likes him, and she trusts him. He could help her.”

“What, you think he can do something we can’t?” Dean scoffed.

“Maybe,” Sam answered honestly. “But it can’t hurt to try.”

“Yes it cou-“

“No, no it couldn’t,” Sam stopped Dean before he could even finish. “Jack won’t hurt her, Dean. He just won’t. I know you hate it, but they care about each other, and you can’t stop that.”

Dean gritted his teeth, mulling over Sam’s words.

“Fine. But if it doesn’t work, then he stays away.”

Sam sighed.

“Deal.”

…

Sam grabbed Dean’s arm, stopping him before he could follow Jack into your room.

“Just give them a little space,” Sam whispered. Dean scowled, but stayed in the doorway.

“Y/N?” Jack’s voice was quiet, but you flinched anyway. “It’s ok, it’s me, it’s Jack.”

Your head lifted, only about an inch, and your eyes flicked up to Jack before you looked back down.

“I really missed you around here,” Jack continued, climbing up to sit next to you on your bed. Dean stiffened, but Sam held his arm to keep him from interrupting.

You stayed silent, but Jack was patient.

“Nothing was the same around here. I’m glad you’re back, I just…I wish you felt safe now, because you are. You’re safe here, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.” Jack’s hand inched towards yours, but Dean interrupted.

“Ok, you tried. Now come on.”

“Dean—“ Sam began, but Jack didn’t argue. He just stood slowly to his feet and started towards your door.

“Jack.”

Your voice stopped Jack in his tracks. He turned to look at you, and his worried brow relaxed when he saw your hand reaching out for his. He took two steps and was in front of you again, reaching forwards and grasping your hand in his.

“Hey Y/N.” Jack smiled. You returned his smile with a weak one of your own.

“Hi Jack.”

And Jack knew that it would all be ok.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

[towards-toramunda]

Thinking about more iconic lines from the show over the years instead of going to bed and created a list that is far too long:

- What’s my mother’s name?

- My best. Finally.

- I have so many flowers to bring to her.

- You were not born with venom in your veins. You learned it. You learned it.

- Don’t get on my ass about it! All I heard is that its pretty easy to do here thats all I took from what you said. (Bonus: its for the god of arts and crafts)

- At dawn, we plan.

- Doo doot doo doo doot doooo donuts!

- What matters more, the dream or the dreamer?

- Sleep well with your bad decisions.

- Nothing happens for a reason. It’s absolute fucking chaos.

- Patience is fine, but it can curdle into apathy.

- I’ve met the devil, thats not him.

- You never take copper. That's just kicking someone while they're down. You take silver if they're an asshole, and you take gold regardless.

- Time is one of my specialties.

- It’s entirely off-putting how disarmingly charming you are.

- How lucky I am to have had all of you. How lucky indeed.

- I smell like a crayon.

- I could tell by the bone structure and the contempt.

- I think I can punch ghosts now.

- Big moon, little moon.

- Pop, pop!

- I need chaos. I have faith in chaos.

- Molly said not to steal from happy people.

- I am going to tell you the story of how I murdered my mother and father.

- Smiley day to ya!

- I killed my family, I’ll throw you under a bridge.

- We’re on the moon bitch.

- She throws it. I shoot it. It explodes! NO STRUCTURAL DAMAGE! (FLUFFERNUTTER)

- I am all for faith, and I'm not going to pick a god. They can pick me. It'll be the first one that actually praises me and then maybe I'll fucking answer. I'll wait. They can fucking beg. And I will listen, which is more than they ever fucking did.

- I would like to RAGE!

- The worst thing that has happened to me has already happened.

- We're running; it's bad.

- You can reply to this message.

- Dagger, dagger, dagger.

- Opinions are like opera. Sure, you can listen to them, but why would you, really?

- There is no god that strides this world that I worship more than I worship your heart.

- I would like to live long enough to be someone else.

- Help, its again.

- Whoever it was, just put it back. I think they've earned it. Put it back.

- I’m fun scary.

- Sorry, babe. Gotta handle these ninjas.

- I’m the cleric? I’ve never traveled with a bunch of people I thought would die in front of me.

- He thinks I’m gonna go into the water for some fucking buttons.

- You are, at the moment, the luckiest person in Whitestone. Do you know why? Because you’re at the bottom of my list.

- You need me more than I need you.

- I protect him. He’s my boy. And I keep him safe.

- I made the earth remember him.

- Come correct or get corrected.

- Do not go far from me.

- Are you worth saving?

- How do I want to do this?

- Heaven to some, and hell to others.

- Fix him!

- Why do we tell stories?

- Do you spice?

- Listen you fucking jungle! I'm a paladin of the Wildmother. You're going to move or we're going to bust you wide open! We'll wreck this place. Don't make me fucking tell you twice!

- I am your god, long may I rein, eat of my fruits.

- Anybody can make lights. Anybody could send a message through a wire. I want to bend reality to my will.

- Would you like to talk before or after?

- What the fuck is up with that?

- To reach a hand down to somebody, they need to be beneath you! And I'm beneath nobody.

- The one eyed monster slayed my pussy.

- Time is a weird soup.

- I’m killing someone. Hold, please.

- Gold is a resource by which mortaldom climbs.

- Why are you so mean to me?

- Yours is the face I saw when murder entered my heart.

- This one time I saw a bug carrying a piece of bread that was like five times its size and he was carrying upstairs, like up and then he would turn, and then up, and then he would turn.

- I live as long as Whitestone lives.

- Vox Machina! Fuck shit up!

- I’m not disappointed, I’m just angry.

- Someone prayed for a miracle and there you were.

- We don't leave people behind. That's just the rule. You do not leave people the fuck behind.

- Call me child one more goddamned time!

- Finish it, Champion.

- I am of the Empire. But I am no friend to the Empire.

- I think it has been a long time since anyone has pointed out to you that you're a fool. Pain doesn't make people, it's love that makes people. The pain is inconsequential. It's love that saves them. And you would know that but you have none around you. You said so yourself, you surround yourself with lies and deceptions. And I wish for you, in the future, to find someone to mourn you when you are gone.

[leavesdriftinginthewind]

I think what pisses me off most about the Wednesday fandom is that so many are intentionally ignoring the fact that Tyler is MEANT to be a tragic character because he is a Hyde. We basically have it beaten over our heads that Hydes are the outcasts of outcasts, deemed too difficult to help, and therefore abandoned and left to their own devices, basically giving them no way to NOT be tortured into being someone’s slave or ultimately having something tragic or awful happen to them that forces out their Hyde and leaving them to become a monster and/or get killed.

So many people blame Tyler for every bad thing that happened in this first season when he LITERALLY had no option but to do exactly as Laurel wished. He was TOLD to go murder the people he murdered, he was TOLD to get Wednesday to trust him, he was TOLD to go after Eugene, he had no CHOICE but to obey, it’s literally in the show’s lore. And we are both told AND shown what lengths Laurel went to to literally torture this teenage boy into becoming a monster that was FORCED to obey her. Not only that, but all that “mama” talk and physical touch is gag-worthy. SHE is the true monster who wanted everyone dead, and she ruined that boy’s life to try and get what she wanted. And the show INTENTIONALLY shows AND tells you all that.

We are SHOWN how Tyler was chained, beaten, poisoned to bring the Hyde out, to become Laurel’s perfect slave. And still so many see HIM as the “true villain,” stating that if he was truly “good” he never would’ve done all he did. Meanwhile the lore has TOLD you, Hydes have no choice. But WAY too many disregard this plot point entirely simply because they see it as something to cling to for their preferred ship to happen. That’s infuriating to me, truly. Not only from a standpoint of really loving Tyler as a character, but also from a standpoint of it being apparent to ME of where the story is going, and knowing that so much of the fandom is gonna be pissed off about it because it’s Tyler-centric.

We are given so much information about “Hydes have been banned from Nevermore for 30 years,” “Faulkner was studying Hydes but he died before he could finish his research,” “nobody knows for sure if, once unlocked, Hydes are only monsters or if the person they were is still in there.” Between all this within the narrative itself and Hunter talking about how he’s excited to explore the duality of the Real Tyler versus the Hyde next season, I think it’s obvious that Wednesday and Tyler are basically going to get to the bottom of this “are Hydes all 100% bad and dangerous” problem themselves, and the result of their research will probably get Hydes accepted back into Nevermore.

Wednesday already knows how unjust the whole system is, she mentions it FREQUENTLY in the first season. Once she gets past feeling betrayed by what happened in season one, it’s likely going to weigh on her that someone she cared about deeply enough to bring her walls down for, to actually seek out to KISS, was so hurt by this system that he ended up doing all he did. And Tyler is inevitably returning, the writers have talked about how we’re going to learn more about Tyler and explore his true feelings for Wednesday. They’ll be brought back together, no doubt. And thus, the deep dive on Hydes will probably begin.

I don’t care what you ship, I don’t even care if you really LIKE Tyler as a character, but I DO care that so many have made him out to be a pure villain simply because that suits their own personal narrative better, and makes them feel like it’s more likely their preferred ship will win the “war.” Like, try and WATCH a show, actually WATCH it, and not simply cling to bits and pieces that suit the storyline you’ve made up in your head. You’re SUPPOSED to hate LAUREL, you’re supposed to, at the very least, wonder if the Real Tyler is still in there, if he can be helped, and you are SUPPOSED to feel some pity for the boy who was forced into becoming an enslaved monster.

[medusapelagia]

29 The Escape

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt:Future ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Force into hiding) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: Eddie shaving his head (I know!!!) Words: 1196

“We are leaving. Now.” Steve says, grabbing the duffle bag they always have ready under the bed.

“Who?”

“Suits.”

Fuck. Still better than Demogorgons, but not ideal.

“How many?”

“Eddie, I didn’t stay to introduce myself, ok? I just saw a couple waiting suspiciously outside the diner and I turned back before they saw me.”

“You’re not wanted. You could just go there and tell them I kidnapped you or some shit like that. Everyone will believe you and you will finally be free from hiding.”

“No fucking way. We’re in this together, did you forget it?”

Steve was the only other person at the trailer when Chrissy’s Cunningham body snapped into pieces like nothing. He knew about monsters, and creatures from other dimensions, and now that the big boys have invaded Hawkins, he’s Eddie’s only companion. Steve’s the one who can drive, go grocery shopping, book a stupid motel room, all of this while Eddie hides in the trunk or in the back seat covered by bags and moldy blankets. Because nobody suspects that Steve Harrington, Hawkins's golden boy, is friends with the suspected serial killer Eddie Munson.

Yeah, because after Chrissy other two teenagers died one after the other, Fred and Patrick, and even Max almost didn’t make it. But the danger is still lingering in Hawkins, waiting to find a way to get back to their dimension, and while Eleven, the super girl, and the Party do their best to find a possible solution with the help of Owens’ team, Eddie is still suspect number one so the only thing he can do is hide.

Canada doesn’t sound so bad after all. A little bit cold, maybe, but Steve told him his parents have a house somewhere in Canada and that’s exactly where they are going, traveling by night, driving always within the limits to avoid bad encounters.

Avoiding Hawkins’ checkpoints wasn’t that easy, but luckily the military was still busy coordinating the aid and it wasn’t that hard to pretend that Eddie died in the earthquake, but now that they are finally close it seems that the suit is following them. Maybe they didn’t find a body and so they have sent communication outside Indiana. For the first time ever Eddie saw his face on the television and it wasn’t a nice feeling. But Steve is optimistic, he keeps saying that they are almost there. Just a couple of days more and they’ll pass the border and then things will get better.

“Hey, big boy, need a place to rest?” Eddie asks, seeing Steve’s head fall down abruptly.

“I’m good. We’re almost there.”

“We are not, Steve. We can rest for a moment, you know that right?”

“We can’t keep spending money in motels, we have to save. Canada is expensive.”

“Let’s reach a parking area and rest for a bit, huh? Just half an hour, maybe less.” Eddie proposes, while he knows perfectly well that if Steve agrees he will let him sleep way more than half an hour. The boy has huge dark bags under his eyes, and they haven’t checked his wounds in hours. They surely need to be clean again. And that’s Eddie's second part of the plan. Get clean in a bathroom and maybe do something a little bit drastic but necessary.

“Ok. Just half an hour, ok?”

Eddie winks, fingers crossed behind his back.

Once they find a little rest area he helps Steve in the back of the car, it’s not comfortable enough, Steve is too tall and he’s sleeping all crumpled on the back seat, but it’s still better than sleeping on the driver seat.

Eddie turns on the radio, keeping it softly, listening to the night music. A dejay somewhere is talking to the night people, and Eddie never felt such a deep connection with someone he doesn't even know.

His life, his messy and complicated life, it’s gone. The only person who ever cared about him thinks he’s dead, or a murderer, or both. And he didn’t graduate. Not even on his third try.

The sun is starting to shine when Steve stirs in the back, coursing loudly when he notices how late it is, but Eddie simply shrugs.

“You needed to rest, Steve. We both know it, and a couple of hours will not fuck up our entire plan, ok? Now come on. I need to check your wounds and ask you a favor.

***

The bathroom next to the gas station is filthy, dirty and smelly. The walls that once were white are now yellowish and covered in pornographic graffiti and phone numbers. For a moment Eddie wonders if they should call one of those numbers, just to hear who will answer. Maybe Mary Ann, who seems to be ready to help everyone feel good, is just a nice granny baking cookies in California.

“You ready?” Eddie asks, grabbing the white bag with antiseptic and bandages Steve just bought.

“Be quick, I don’t want to lose more time.”

“Yes, captain,” Eddie chuckles, unwrapping Steve’s bandages while he holds his t-shirt and hisses between his teeth, “This might sting a little. Sorry.”

Steve nods and Eddie cleans the wounds that are still pouring some blood even after days.

“You should have those checked. Like professionally.” Eddie says, trying his best to patch him up.

“Once we’re in Canada I promise I will,” Steve replies, pulling down his t-shirt and covering his hairy chest that was already giving too many ideas to Eddie.

“Now what? You told me you needed a favor.” 

Eddie nods, grabbing his switchblade, “Cut my hair.”

“What?! No!”

“I’m too fucking recognizable, Steve. Cut my fucking hair, then I’ll shave my head.”

“I thought you wanted to shave your face! not your hair! I’m not going to let you.”

“So what? Are you telling me what I can do and what I can’t, Stevie?”

“No… it’s just… it’s your hair.”

“They’ll grow back.” and they will, the only thing Eddie doesn’t know is if they’ll grow back in prison or not.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I hate this!” Steve complains, but grabs the switchblade and starts to cut Eddie’s black curls. 

The more hair falls on the ground the more Eddie remembers that his father used to keep him with a buzzcut and that he hated it, but that’s not the moment to cry on some stupid hair.

“Do you want me… do you want me to shave you?” Steve asks softly.

“Please…” Eddie begs, unable to stare at the mirror.

Steve squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, trying to reassure him, and then he starts to shave his head. Once he’s done Eddie doesn’t seem the same person as he was when they first entered the bathroom. Even he as to stare at the mirror for a long time to realize that’s him. Once he’s finally convinced they leave the bathroom and get back in the car.

This time Eddie is sitting next to Steve, wearing Steve’s clothes and with a shaved head he keeps playing with.

“You ok?”

“Peachy.”

He freezes when they cross the border, but once they are safely in Canada Eddie takes a big breath of relief.

Maybe he’ll have a future after all.

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Bruce asks Talia an important question after learning this information from Ra. This takes place before the Wayne sons go to Jason's apartment.

Talia hugs Damian tightly, making the young boy groan with embarrassment.

Talia: Quit it, I’m trying to be more motherly and that means more hugs and… what else?

Damian: Releasing me?

Talia: No… oh cheek kisses!

Damian: No!

Damian breaks free to avoid the red lipstick kisses and takes a few steps back.

Damian: Mother-

Talia: Please, call me mom or mommy.

Damian's left eye twitches.

Damian: I’m about to call you your government. Now mother, thank you for the art supplies and dropping by, but didn’t you want to talk to father?

Talia: I almost forgot! Thank you, Damian. Where is he?

Damian: Upstairs, in his second office.

Talia: Thank you. Behave while I’m gone.

Damian grumbles as Talia heads upstairs. She finds Bruce sitting at his desk. She walks in with a tight smile, but before she can speak, Bruce interjects.

Bruce: Did you fuck him?

Talia: No hello how are you?

Bruce: Hi, greetings, how are you, did you fuck Jason when he was staying with you and your lunatic father?

Bruce taps his desk impatiently.

Talia covers her mouth, stifling her laughter but she couldn’t contain it. Bruce rolls his eyes, aggravated.

Talia: People bought that rumor? My father came up with that after Jason cut ties with him. Me sleeping with him? He was a young lad and not my type. I would not degrade myself doing such a gross thing. You believed that?

Bruce: You know what, I did! I was about to do something I wouldn't regret because if you hurt him in that way... nobody could hold me back!

Talia stops laughing and places a hand on heart.

Talia: Aww that’s sweet you care for him that much?

Bruce: We’re alone... I’ll admit that yes I do. You better not have taken that innocence from him. I've had one child go through that and he's still affected to this day. I won't let them be abused by a woman who thinks she can have her way with them. Even you. The Lazarus pit would not be able to revive you is all I have to say.

Talia smiles, placing her hands on her hips.

Talia: I respect it. I treated him like a son until you graced me with our bouncing baby boy that... I don't have clones of.

Bruce: I'll pretend that's true. I'll do believe you in this situation. I... Thank you for not doing... that. He already has trust issues and father issues, I really don't want him to have a flawed concept of love.

Talia: Preaching to my father's choir. Oh my word, that is so precious! Brucie, you have to realize you’re the only one I’ve ever tolerated and Jason was going through enough when we dealt with him. I would not do such an explicit act with him. I'm an assassin not a monster. I'm not catching a case either. I promise.

Talia crosses her hand over her heart to show she's being truthful.

Bruce: Don't call me Brucie, we are not like that.

Talia: Oh right, you’re with cattie lady.

Bruce: Selina.

Talia: Same thing.

Bruce: You anger me every time you visit. I apologize for accusing you of such a thing.

Talia: It's fine, dealt with it in the past. Is that all you needed me to grace my presence for?

Bruce: Yes.

Talia: Good, I’m taking Damian to the place they play video games and can get prizes.

Bruce: …the arcade.

Talia: That. I’ll return in two hours.

Bruce: Got it. One more thing, Talia. While you seem infatuated with me, if you do ever try anything with Jason, Dick, Tim, or even our son I will make sure you pay. Not just monetarily. Got it.

Talia: Got it, stud. If anything ever falls out between you and Cattie girl-

Bruce: Get out of my office.

Talia curtseys then takes her leave, while giggling.

Talia: Me and Jason, that's comical. I'd rather eat a cactus.

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 5) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 5

You end up on a rooftop, you and Tenko and Kurogiri. Tenko has a pair of binoculars, and he lets you look through them before you have a chance to ask what he’s looking for. “We’re in Hosu,” he says. “The current location of the Hero Killer.”

“Are you going to fight him?”

“I’m doing what you said.”

You can’t remember what you said, except for your stupid joke. “Making him unfuckable?”

Tenko snickers, and somewhere behind you, Kurogiri does the same – which is extra weird. “No. Putting us back in the headlines.”

“Oh.” You don’t like this. “I’m not a strategist. You shouldn’t listen to me.”

“Why?” Tenko gives you a weird look. “You’re not stupid. Your ideas aren’t any worse than mine.”

“I don’t want you to get mad at me if it goes wrong,” you say. “I’ve heard you get mad at Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri chuckles. “That’s different,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura. Tell her why it’s different.”

“Shut up,” Tenko says. He put the hand back over his face once he let go of your hand, but he’s turning red around it. Again. “Kurogiri’s not my sidekick. I don’t have to listen to him.”

“You don’t have to listen to me, either,” you say. “I don’t know anything about being – this.”

“You understand them better than I do,” Tenko says. He gestures at the expanse of Hosu before you. “What would it take to make you stop trusting heroes?”

You already don’t trust heroes very much. What would it take to move people like your parents or your siblings, who live in the other Japan, to where you are? “To see them choose wrong.”

Tenko gives you a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“Heroes can’t save everybody. They can’t be everywhere. They can’t be there all the time. But nobody ever thinks that the heroes won’t choose to save them,” you explain. “If you wanted to shake things up, you’d have to make it so the heroes choose wrong. For everybody to see.”

Tenko’s eyes light up, and the smile on his face this time looks less like your friend’s and more like the villain he’s become. “Then we’re in the right place,” he says. “This city is crawling with heroes looking for Stain. Let’s put them in a bind. Kurogiri, bring the Nomu. All of them.”

“Nomu?” you squeak, even as multiple portals open around you. “You have more than one?”

“We have lots. Sensei only gave me three.” Tenko gestures proudly at the monsters emerging from the portals. Everything about them looks like they’ve been put together wrong, from their staring eyes to their featureless faces to their pasty skin that smells like rot. The news reports about the attack on UA were clear about one thing – the Nomu that faced off against All Might was fast and extremely strong. “What do you think?”

One passes close to you and you cringe away, closer to Tenko. “They’re awful.”

“Exactly,” Tenko says. He stares down at the city, an expression on his face that’s somehow grim and vicious at once. “Let’s see what the rest of them think.”

The Nomus crawl down the sides of the building and vanish into the city. Tenko hasn’t given them orders, and neither has Kurogiri. You have questions – a lot of questions – but you’re not sure what it’s safe to ask. You’re Tenko’s sidekick, but that doesn’t mean his plans are yours to comment on. It feels weird to keep quiet, too. You and Tenko used to get in trouble for talking in class because you never ran out of things to talk about.

“You don’t look weird.”

You cough. “What?”

“You don’t look weird,” Tenko says again. You look at him, surprised, and find him looking straight ahead, peering through the binoculars. “I should have let you fix my shoulder the rest of the way.”

“What did you end up doing with it?” You reach over and part the cut fabric on his shoulder, wincing as you get a look at the bandaging job. “Next time, just let me finish.”

“Can you fix the rest of it?”

“I can’t do more stitches when it’s been open this long,” you say. Tenko grimaces but doesn’t swear at you. “There’s a chance it’ll get infected. If it does –”

“I’ll send Kurogiri to find you.”

“Tell him to give me a heads-up instead of just snatching me. I might need to grab antibiotics and I don’t want to make two trips.”

Tenko nods like this makes sense, which it does, except for the context. You’re standing here on the roof of a building in a city that’s already facing one villainous threat, while your childhood best friend turned aspiring supervillain has just released another – on your advice, no less. You try to rationalize it. Hosu is crawling with heroes, like Tenko said. If they’re good heroes, they’ll divert their attention to protecting the civilians. Heroes fighting Nomus will get Tenko the headlines he wants for the League of Villains, and if nobody gets hurt aside from the heroes who signed up for the job –

You need to be careful with that line of thinking. With that line of thinking, you could excuse what happened to the students during the attack on UA. “Can I ask you something?” you say, and Tenko nods. “Why did you go after the students?”

“I wasn’t after them. The point was All Might.”

“But you brought all those other villains,” you say. “On the news they said that Kurogiri moved the kids all over the training facility so the villains could kill them. And –”

You’re thinking of something else you heard, from Kazuo – that Tenko tried to kill at least three students directly, and All Might’s arrival was the only thing that stopped him. “He was supposed to be there from the beginning,” Tenko says. “All Might. Dividing the students up was supposed to distract him. Split his focus so he’d be more vulnerable to Nomu.”

You don’t know what you were expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. “Those villains were weak,” Tenko continues. “The brats could deal with them on their own. It would have taken All Might two seconds. But two seconds is all we would have needed.”

“So it was – strategy.”

“Yeah.” Tenko lowers his binoculars, glances at you. “Do you believe me?”

The words leave your mouth before you can think better of them. “I’d believe you more if I could see you.”

Tenko was in the process of looking away. Now he glances back, and you can tell he’s startled, even through the fingers of the hand. You’re not sure what the hands are for. When he attacked the USJ, he was wearing multiple sets, but usually he only wears Father around you. You haven’t asked him to remove the hand before – only asked him where it was when he wasn’t wearing it, and when you think it over, you can’t see any commonalities between the times when it’s off and the times when it’s on. Maybe it’s the kind of thing you can ask about now that you’re Tenko’s sidekick again.

Tenko grips the binoculars one-handed, reaching up to remove the hand with the other. “The brats weren’t the real target,” he says.

“But you still tried to kill three of them.”

“Yeah,” Tenko says, like it doesn’t matter, without care – and without malice. “They were right there, and I thought All Might wasn’t coming. Everybody had to see how he failed again.”

Again? You’re not the biggest All Might fan, but you don’t remember hearing about All Might failing to save children who were being held hostage. In fact, when All Might has to prioritize, he saves children first. Tenko is watching you now. “Do you believe me?”

“I believe you,” you say, and you see his shoulders relax. “You’re not a very good liar.”

He never was. When you were trying to get away with things as children, you did the talking. Tenko’s job was to stay quiet and not make eye contact with whichever adult was questioning the two of you. No matter how desperate he was not to get caught, a few seconds of eye contact was enough to break him. In the present, Tenko smiles slightly. “Lucky I’ve got you.”

You like seeing him smile, and you’ve seen it twice tonight. The knot in your chest relaxes, only to tighten again as a chorus of screams rise from the city below. Tenko lifts his binoculars eagerly and you twist your hands together, trying to contain your unease. You have your best friend. He wants you with him – his sidekick, just like you used to be. You still know how to make him smile. And he’s a villain, the kind of villain who, when his plan to kill All Might looked like it wouldn’t pan out, decided to kill three children instead. What are you doing here?

More screams from below. You wonder how many civilians are being hurt, how many heroes are protecting them versus chasing Stain. You know there’s a free clinic branch in Hosu, one that’s open overnight just like yours is. They’ll be busy tonight. At least you won’t have to worry about them treating injured villains as well as civilians.

Or will they? What are the Nomus, exactly? Where did they come from? Is that the kind of question you’re allowed to ask Tenko now that you’re friends again? “Um,” you start, but he doesn’t look at you, just keeps peering through the binoculars. Sometimes he focuses so hard it’s like his ears stop working. You remember that from when you were kids. “Tenko?”

He still doesn’t answer. You reach out, touch his shoulder, and he startles so badly that he drops the binoculars. If he grabs them with all five fingers, they’ll disintegrate. You catch them for him, since it’s your fault, and pass them back once he’s ready. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s – fine.” Tenko’s shoulder is tense beneath your hand. You’re still touching him, and you shouldn’t be. You pull your hand back. “What is it?”

“The Nomu,” you say hesitantly. “What are they?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri warns. “You should not –”

“She won’t tell,” Tenko says without looking at him. He hasn’t put the hand back over his face. “They’re – I guess you could call them zombies. They’re made from bodies. Usually two or three bodies, and three or four quirk factors. It’s usually the same quirk factors. Shock absorption, regeneration, speed. I don’t care if you touch me.”

You’re too busy trying to wrap your head around the fact that somebody’s figured out how to raise the dead to catch the last thing. It takes you a second to get to it, and even then, you have to ask a clarifying question. “You don’t care? Or you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.”

Something is wrong with you. Something is really wrong with you that you’re more interested in why Tenko doesn’t mind if you touch him than in the fact that Tenko has multiple zombies at his disposal to turn loose on unsuspecting heroes and civilians. You try to focus. “Where do the bodies come from?”

“I don’t know,” Tenko says. He’s frowning slightly. A moment later, he puts the hand back on his face – but before you can decide if it’s because he’s mad at you, he hands you the binoculars. “Look.”

You look through them. You’re looking in the wrong spot, and after a few seconds of trying to give you directions, Tenko gives up and just covers your hands with his, moving you in the right direction. His index fingers are lifted, protecting you from his quirk. You see what he wanted you to look at quickly enough – heroes facing off against the Nomus. Endeavor facing off against the Nomus. It looks like the heroes chose right.

You can’t deny that it’s a relief. The civilians will always be your priority, and even if almost everyone has a quirk, most of those quirks are useless when it comes to defending against zombies with multiple quirks, and they’re banned from using them anyway. But you have the sense that Tenko’s not pleased, and when you look at him, you see him scowling behind the hand. “They’re making it look too easy,” he complains.

“These Nomu were not as strong as the Nomu from USJ,” Kurogiri says. “You were made aware, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“These heroes aren’t as strong as All Might,” Tenko snaps in response. “Master set me up – again –”

You spot something through the binoculars. Something Tenko needs to see. You push them back into his hands. “Look at that.”

Tenko’s still scowling, but he lifts the binoculars to peer through them. A second later he startles. Even without the binoculars, you can see a dark shape in distant flight over the city, something clutched in its claws. You don’t know who the Nomu grabbed, or where it’s taking them, but Tenko can’t fail to be pleased with that. Can he?

He can. A moment later he swears. “Fucking Hero Killer –”

Your heart sinks. “What happened?”

“He killed it. To save some hero brat.” Tenko’s binoculars are crumbling in his hand. You wonder if he even notices. “Fucking Hero Killer. Fuck!”

You’re pretty sure that’s not the end of the story. The Hero Killer saved a hero, after claiming that there’s only one true hero, and it’s All Might? You slide your phone out of your pocket, clear a bunch of notifications from your friends’ group chat, and navigate to Twitter. Somebody’s got to be reporting on this live, and sure enough, you find “Hero Killer” trending, plus a livestream of Stain’s arrest. He’s getting arrested, and with at least twenty murders under his belt, there’s no way he’s getting out of Tartarus in this lifetime. You touch Tenko’s shoulder again – after all, he said it was fine – and speak quietly. “Hey.”

“What?”

He won’t look at you. “Look at this,” you say instead, holding out your phone. “The heroes got him.”

“So?”

“So that’s it for him,” you say. “He’s going to prison for the rest of his life. All Might’s definitely not going to fuck him now.”

It’s quiet for a second, aside from a wheeze emanating from somewhere behind the two of you. It’s still weird to hear Kurogiri laugh. You don’t even know if he has lungs. Beside you, Tenko’s doing everything in his power to hang onto his scowl, and it’s not working very well. “Is that the only joke you know?”

You feel a surge of relief. “I’ll stop using it when you stop laughing at it.”

You hear the sound of helicopter blades in the distance, growing closer. Tenko can hear it, too. “Kurogiri, let’s go. We’re done here.”

You barely have a second to wonder where you’re headed before the black mist wells up, and you’re not entirely surprised to find yourself back in the bar. Kurogiri’s behind it already. Tenko’s sitting at it, the chair next to his kicked outwards. As you watch, Kurogiri sets two glasses down and lifts an unopened bottle of champagne. He opens it, pouring first Tenko’s glass, then the glass in front of the empty chair.

Tenko glances over his shoulder, spots you, and gestures impatiently at the chair. You sit down next to him and study the glass of champagne. Tenko’s already chugging his, but he stops halfway and glances at you. “Why aren’t you drinking it?”

You could lie, but you don’t want to. “I watched him pour it, and I don’t think you’d drug me. But I still have to be careful.”

Tenko doesn’t look offended. Instead he swaps glasses with you, and Kurogiri makes a discontented noise. “She doesn’t want to drink your backwash, Tomura. Even if you did brush your teeth before we left.”

“Shut up,” Tenko snaps at him. He’s turning red again. You look down into your new glass, trying not to laugh. “I brush my teeth all the time. You’re not special.”

That one gets you. You start laughing, and Kurogiri makes that weird wheezing sound. You’re starting to realize that unlike the villain you met earlier today, who was all over the place, Kurogiri’s got two distinct aspects – one that’s more formal, more severe, and another that’s significantly more relaxed. The second one sounds younger, too, and the impression only grows stronger when Kurogiri speaks again. “If you drink someone else’s backwash, it’s like making out with them indirectly.”

“No it isn’t! I didn’t ask you!”

Tenko is bright red and sputtering, and Kurogiri’s yellow eyes are crinkling, almost the way a person’s would. It occurs to you what this aspect of Kurogiri reminds you of – a sibling. You teased your younger siblings the exact same way, when you could get away with it. Well aware that you’re making some kind of statement about the whole thing, you pick up the glass that used to be Tenko’s and take a small sip. It doesn’t taste like anything but champagne.

When you look up, you find Tenko and Kurogiri watching you. Staring, more accurately – Tenko’s jaw is dropped. You will your face not to flush. “Thanks for switching with me. As long as you don’t pass out in the next half an hour, we’re good to go.”

“So you have to stay at least that long.”

He doesn’t want you to leave. You take another sip of champagne, giving yourself time to get under control. You don’t want Tenko to know how pleased you are with the thought, or how ambivalent you are at being pleased by it. “I guess I do.”

You stay for another hour and a half, reading over the news coverage of the Nomu attack and the Hero Killer’s capture until you can barely keep your eyes open. But you have an early morning, and even though Tenko complains that you have to go and makes fun of you for agreeing to take Yoshimi to her appointment, he doesn’t suggest that you back out of it. As Kurogiri is determining where to set a warp gate to send you back to Yokohama, you ask him why not.

Tenko gives you a weird look. “I know you,” he says. “That’s not who you are.”

He’s right. It isn’t. And as much as you’re pleased by the thought that your best friend still knows you after all these years, the disquiet lurking underneath it follows you home, curls up on your chest as you try to fall asleep. You’re not the kind of person who’d turn your back on a friend, or go back on your word once you’ve given it. But apparently you’re the kind of person who watches a villain turn monsters loose on innocent people and does absolutely nothing to stop him.

You might have made your choice already. You might have stepped over the line. But you have a bad feeling that you’ll be looking back over your shoulder at it until it’s vanished over the horizon, knowing you made the wrong call and knowing deep in your bones that there’s nothing else you could have done.

You’ve done basically nothing, but you still get the sense that you’re leading a double life. You comfort yourself with the thought that even if you went to the police, you’d have nothing useful to tell them. You don’t know where Tenko’s hideout is. You don’t know anything about who makes the Nomus or where they’re hidden. You don’t know anything about Kurogiri except that it seems like there are two personalities in there, and what Kazuo said about his quirk not being natural. You’re still not sure what Kazuo meant by that. Just like you’re not sure who Tenko’s master is.

The things you know would be absolutely useless to them. You know that Tenko recovered from his USJ injuries only to get immediately slashed up by Stain. You know Tenko likes champagne but can’t hold his liquor for shit. You know he’s smart and strategic, a lot more than the news gives him credit for, which is bad for them and probably also bad for you. You know he likes video games more than he did when he was a kid, but he likes you just as much as he did back then. You like him just as much, too. Probably too much.

You haven’t seen him again since that night in Hosu. You know he’ll send Kurogiri to find you if he needs you, and the fact that he doesn’t need you means he’s not getting hurt. But you’re watchful anyway. No matter where you’re walking, day or night, you find yourself keeping a close eye the shadows, watching from your peripheral vision in case one of them hides a warp gate. Or better yet, hides Tenko.

“Hypervigilance,” Kazuo remarks when he catches you at it, one partly cloudy day in early June. “A hallmark of traumatic stress. You could benefit from counseling.”

“It’s not wrong to be wary,” you say. “Things are more dangerous than they used to be. Don’t you feel it?”

“Another hallmark of PTSD. Persistent, negative cognitions about yourself, others, or the world, exemplified by statements like The world is more dangerous than it used to be.” Kazuo can be a real asshole sometimes. “But you’re correct. Crime rates have steadily increased as All Might’s taken a step back from the public eye.”

“You really think it’s All Might?” You glance sideways at Kazuo. “Not the League of Villains?”

“The League of Villains is a symptom,” Kazuo says. The two of you got to the park early; the rest of your friends are running late for your meetup. “I looked into the backgrounds of those who were captured in the attack on USJ. For the most part, I found petty crime – thievery, fleeing from the police, physical violence committed in the course of fleeing a crime scene or an altercation with heroes.”

That tracks with the kind of villains you run into at work. Most of them have done next to nothing to earn the title. “Looking back further,” Kazuo continues, “I found poverty, substance abuse, quirk-based discrimination, childhood trauma. There were some among the criminals at USJ who sought violence specifically and consistently from an early age, but for the majority of them, it was far from inevitable that they would become criminals. It could have been otherwise.”

Thinking about what’s going on with Tenko, you’ve gotten in the habit of playing devil’s advocate. “And that’s on All Might? One hero can’t fix poverty, or childhood trauma –”

“No, they cannot. But the presence of heroes gives everyone else an excuse not to try to fix anything,” Kazuo says. He gives you a look. “There will always be some villains. The existence of enough villains to allow your friend to form a League of them means that society is failing.”

“You’re not wrong,” you say. Usually when you admit that Kazuo’s right, he moves on, but this time he keeps looking at you. “What?”

“At least try to deny it,” Kazuo says, and you know what he’s talking about. “One day I won’t be the one asking.”

You know he’s right, but as much as Tenko occupies your thoughts, you don’t have much time to dwell on him on a daily basis. Yoshimi’s sick, cancer in her lymphatic system, and with her family out of the picture and her shitty boyfriend dumping her the second he found out, you and your friends are on overdrive trying to support her. Since you’re the only one who works in the field, a lot of the daily stuff is falling on you. You’ve been taking some shifts at the central clinic so you can check in on her while she’s there for treatments, and since the high school students are all studying for their medical assistant exams, you’ve been grabbing fill-in night shifts at your regular clinic at the same time. You’re getting four hours of sleep a night, if that.

You’re exhausted. So exhausted that, when the shadows in the corner of your vision turn out to be mist as you’re walking home from the park, you keep walking straight into Kurogiri’s warp gate without a second thought.

When you arrive in the bar, Kurogiri seems surprised to see you. “I thought you might run.”

“I’m too tired to run,” you say. “Does he need me?”

Kurogiri nods, as much as a person with mist for a head can nod. “Follow me.”

You balk when you realize where you’re headed. “He doesn’t want me in there.”

“He asked me to bring you there specifically,” Kurogiri says. “Don’t worry. He’s cleaned.”

“Oh.”

The door to Tenko’s room is open, but Kurogiri knocks anyway. “Shigaraki Tomura, the girl –”

“You’re here.” Tenko appears suddenly in the doorway, the hand clamped over his face. “That was fast. You didn’t run away?”

“What kind of sidekick runs when their boss calls?” You look Tenko over. “Kurogiri said you needed me. Are you hurt?”

“My shoulder’s a mess,” Tenko says, unconcerned. “I needed to talk to you. Come in.”

He takes a few steps back, leaving room for you to step through the door. The memory of how Tenko reacted last time is still fresh in your head, and based on Tenko’s expression, he can tell. “I cleaned it,” he says impatiently. “Come in.”

In spite of the fact that your best friends have usually been boys, you haven’t spent a lot of time in boys’ rooms. The ones you have been in aren’t exactly standard. Kazuo’s room looked like an interior design magazine spread even before his mind snapped, so minimalist it was hard to imagine anyone actually living there. Sho’s room looks more like a girl’s room than yours does. Tenko’s room back when you were kids just looked like a kid’s room. Like how you would have wanted your room to look if you weren’t already sharing it with two siblings.

Tenko’s room, compared to the last time you saw it, is no longer filthy. You can see the floor, at least, and some rearranging has occurred. The desk and monitor setup has been shifted unceremoniously into one corner of the room, and on the wall where it previously sat is a flatscreen TV. You can see that it’s hooked up to a router, as well as a cable or smart TV box, and there are a few consoles and controllers strewn around nearby. Across the room from the TV is a coffee table. And behind that, a bed.

You gesture at it. “Was this here before?”

Tenko doesn’t answer. “Kurogiri, go,” he orders, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Kurogiri vanish from the doorway. “Sit down.”

You sit down on one end of the bed and Tenko sits on the other. He slides a collection of games across the coffee table to you. “I like all of these. You can pick which one we play first.”

“I’m not good at games.”

“I’ll teach you what you need to know,” Tenko says. He pushes the games at you again. “Pick.”

You start sorting through the games, searching in vain for any title you know while you try to shift the subject back into reasonable territory. “You said something was wrong with your shoulder. Can I look at it?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You said it was a mess,” you point out. “Let me see.”

“Pick a game and then you can see it.”

You see exactly one title you know – Call of Duty. You hold it up and Tenko frowns. “We can play that one for a bit. In co-op mode. But after that –”

“Show me your arm.”

Tenko scowls, but he moves from the other end of the bed until he’s within reach. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, oversized to the point where you can draw the neckline aside and reveal the wound. It’s clear that the stitches have been disturbed. The wound site is red and angry-looking and you can see scratches around it. There should be a scab on the part that Tenko wouldn’t let you stitch, but it’s clearly been peeled away. It’s either infected already or about to be, and either way, the healing process is going slower than it should be. A surge of frustration sweeps over you.

You look up at Tenko and find him watching you, unrepentant. “What?”

“You were scratching this.”

“It itched,” Tenko says. He gives you a weird look. “You never said not to.”

“I didn’t think I had to say not to scratch your open wounds.” Your frustration seeps into your tone. “You should have sent Kurogiri to get me as soon as the swelling started.”

“I tried. You’re always busy.” Tenko’s voice takes on the quality of a sneer. “Kurogiri’s been watching you for three days. You’re at that other clinic with that girl all the time.”

He didn’t use to be like this. He didn’t use to be jealous. “She has cancer. She needs someone –”

“She has other friends and doctors and parents and some loser boyfriend somewhere,” Tenko says. You start to argue that Yoshimi doesn’t have a boyfriend, courtesy of said boyfriend being a loser, but Tenko cuts you off. “She has lots of people. I only have you.”

He has Kurogiri, his master, the doctor, the Nomu – or does he? Shigaraki Tomura has those people. Tenko only has you. You peel your eyes from the angry mess Tenko’s wound has become and look up at him. “If I had known you needed me, I’d have found a way to be here. You’re my best friend.”

“I know. I –” Tenko breaks off, frustrated. “I didn’t mess with it so you’d come back.”

“I didn’t think that,” you say. “I know you scratch sometimes. It seems like less than before.”

“Only when you’re here.” Tenko shifts in his seat. You’re about to tell him he shouldn’t worry about that when he speaks again. “I feel different when you’re here. Can you fix it?”

“I’ll need to take the stitches out and clean it before I bandage it up again, but yes.” You look around for the medical supplies and Tenko pries open a drawer full of them. “Then we can play the game.”

“I can’t believe you like Call of Duty.”

“It’s just the only one I recognize,” you admit, and Tenko laughs. You like hearing him laugh. “Get ready to lose all respect for me. You might want a better sidekick.”

“I don’t need a better sidekick,” Tenko says. “I’m good enough for both of us.”

Warmth floods through you, pooling in your cheeks and your chest and the pit of your stomach. He remembers. You pull on a pair of gloves and open the suture kit. The sooner you rebandage his wound, the sooner you can play a game with your best friend for the first time since you were kids.

But after you’ve taken out the stitches, as you’re bandaging his shoulder, you notice something. The other times you’ve seen Tenko and treated his wounds, he’s been wearing long sleeves, and when you’ve cut them to get a look at the injuries, you haven’t paid much attention to whatever else might be underneath them. Now, with his arms exposed by design, you can see things you didn’t before. Tenko’s always scratched. After fifteen years of scratching he’d naturally have scars. But when the two of you were kids, you never saw him scratch his forearms. And you’ve never seen scratches look so uniform, so evenly spaced. You’ve seen things that look like that before. They weren’t scratches.

You look up and find Tenko looking at you already. “Sensei had me do them. So I’d be stronger,” he says. Your heart seizes in your chest. “Not in a while, though. When I got strong enough he let me stop.”

“That’s messed up.” You’ve been careful not to speak against Tenko’s master, not when you know so little about him, but you can’t hold back this time. “Hurting yourself doesn’t make you stronger. It just makes you hurt.”

“What would you know about it?”

“Lots. I see it every day.”

Tenko gives you a look that tells you just how little he thinks of whatever you’ve seen, and you lose patience. You let go of his arm and pull up the sleeve of your own short-sleeve shirt. “I don’t mean at work.”

Tenko’s jaw drops behind the hand. “Who made you do that?”

“Nobody made me. I did it myself, which makes me a lot dumber than you,” you say. Tenko’s lines are even. Yours are jagged, because you were angry or crying or hurrying to finish up before one of your siblings needed the bathroom or your mom came back to keep arguing with you. “Was your master trying to make you stronger? Or was he trying to teach you not to show when something hurts?”

Based on the way Tenko’s red eyes flash, you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. “What were you trying to do, then? When you were being dumber than me?”

You were being really dumb. So dumb that it’s embarrassing to talk about. “It’s a reset, biologically. Injuries force the body to release endorphins, which make you feel better for a little bit. There was a while where I had trouble controlling my temper. It helped me do that. Or at least not show it.”

“A while,” Tenko repeats. “You should have had trouble the entire fucking time.”

“I did,” you admit after a second. “You used to tell me it wasn’t okay, what my family was like. It took a while to believe you.”

Half the reason you didn’t believe Tenko was because you knew his family was messed up, too. No matter what else your dad did, he didn’t scream at you or lock you outside without dinner. But as you got older, you realized why your parents didn’t do that: They needed you too much. They needed your help with the extra kids they shouldn’t have had, and the older you got, the more it started to infuriate you.

You saw evidence of it everywhere, in places it was and places it wasn’t. They didn’t wipe your memory because they cared that you were upset about your missing friend, they did it because they needed you to be quiet and helpful instead of sad. They didn’t let you choose your favorite snack or go to a birthday party once in a blue moon because it was the fair thing to do, they did it so you wouldn’t complain about all the times you weren’t allowed to. They promised they’d make it up to you every time they shorted you in favor of your siblings with quirks, hoping the apology would make you forget. By the time you were fourteen, you weren’t forgetting anymore.

Tenko’s watching you from behind the hand, but you don’t want to be watched right now. You focus on placing the bandage. Maybe if you do that, you can pretend this isn’t happening. “What happened?” Tenko asks. “With your family.”

“Nothing,” you say. Nothing like what happened to his. “They’re out there. They call me on my birthday. Every so often they ask me for money. Do you really want to talk about this?”

Tenko doesn’t follow up. On that, at least. Three of his fingers brush across your exposed upper arm and it takes every ounce of self-control you have not to jump out of your skin. “These are old, right?”

“Not as old as yours,” you say. “They aren’t recent, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I stopped, so you should, too.” Tenko’s palm covers your upper arm for a moment, then lifts away. “It wouldn’t kill you to control your temper less, anyway. When was the last time you got really mad?”

“Three days ago. Yoshimi’s boyfriend ditched her, so I called him and lit his ass up.”

“Sure you did. I bet you never raised your voice,” Tenko says. You look up, offended. “You probably sounded like some kind of evil shrink, telling him what a piece of shit he is and how you understand that he can’t help being an asshole but it would probably be best for everybody if he took a long walk off a short ledge –”

He’s mimicking the soft, semi-conciliatory tone you use when you’re trying to de-escalate a situation, looking at you from behind the hand with a smirk on his face. You’d get mad, except it’s a pretty accurate imitation, and you like the thought that he knows you well enough to pick on you like this. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about getting really mad. Really losing control. When’s the last time you did that?”

You can’t remember. You shrug helplessly. Tenko heaves an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a good thing we’re playing Call of Duty next. If getting your ass kicked in a video game can’t wind you up, nothing will.”

It’s been a while since you played an actual video game. You were bad at it then, and you’re really bad at it now. Tenko makes you play a round in single-player mode to see what you’re good at and where you’re weak, and he spends the entire time laughing so hard that you’re worried he’s going to dislocate a rib or fall off the couch. It takes you way too long to hide away from the enemies onscreen long enough to ask Tenko a question. “What’s so funny? I know I’m not doing it right –”

“You’re just –” Tenko wheezes, then makes an effort to get it together. “Up here in the corner of your display is the map. The dot is where you are. And then everything in front of you is your point of view. That’s why it’s called a first-person shooter.”

“I know,” you say. “The display –”

“You control that on this side of the controller. And that’s where your trigger is, too. The other side handles motion,” Tenko says. His shoulders are twitching, like they do when he’s trying to hold in his laughter. “I’ll watch the map for you. Just go where I tell you to go.”

“Okay.” You adjust your grip on the controller and prepare to be humiliated.

Tenko directs you to move straight forward, which you do. Then you make a left turn and jump up on a crate for a better firing angle, at which point someone shoots at you. “Shoot back,” Tenko orders. You press the trigger. “Nice work. Okay, now jump off the crate and –”

You jump off the crate as requested, but then you get your buttons jumbled, and instead of running in the direction Tenko told you to run, you find yourself bumping into the wall repeatedly with your viewpoint stuck directly upwards. “Tenko –”

Tenko is howling with laughter again. The hand dislodges and falls off his face, and you see his eyes crinkling at the corners, his smile just a little too big. Some girls in your class said his smile was creepy, but you always liked it. You liked that you always knew which of his smiles were faked and which weren’t. “I’m stuck,” you say, and he laughs even harder. “What did I do?”

“If you were doing what your character is doing right now, you’d be doing this.” Tenko mimics pointing a gun straight up at the sky, and suddenly you get why he’s laughing. “You’ve been running around like this –”

No wonder you keep running into walls. Now you’re laughing, too. “You weren’t kidding,” Tenko says, shaking his head. “You really are terrible at it.”

You set the controller aside and wipe your eyes. “You sure you don’t want a different sidekick?”

“I have the sidekick I want.” Tenko glances at you, almost shyly. “We’ll need allies, though. I want you to meet them.”

Your stomach lurches. “Do you have them already?”

“One of the brokers is bringing them. He finds them through the black market.” Tenko sets the controller back down in your hands, adjusting your fingers to the right buttons. Then he unpauses the game. “Once I have them all – go right. No, your other right. Once I have them all, I want you to meet them. I need them to work together, and to stay calm instead of fighting each other. You’re good at getting people to do that. Watch out, there are – nice work.”

He’s giving you a strange look. “What?” you ask. “I didn’t get killed yet.”

“You’re better at shooting people than running around. That’s weird.” Tenko’s expression stays odd for another moment; then he grins. “Works for me, though. As long as you don’t mess with your viewpoint too much, we can play together.”

“Works for me.” You’re still going to be pretty useless, but at least you can protect Tenko’s back. That’s more than you’d be able to do in a real fight. The thought kicks off a flood of anxiety, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself speaking out loud. “Tenko –”

He pauses the game mid-switch to co-op mode. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know if I can help you the way you need me to,” you say. He gives you a skeptical look. “Medical stuff is one thing. I’m good at that. If your allies need help with that, I’ll help them, too. But the rest of it, I’m not – planning, getting people to follow you –”

“I can do that part. But villains fight all the time. Like kids do,” Tenko says. He smiles slightly. “If you can handle me, they’ll be easy for you.”

“But I know you,” you say. “It’s different.”

“So you’ll get to know them, too.” Tenko’s confident, just like you remember him being. Once he’s decided how something will be, it’s hard to shake him. “Come on. Let’s clear this level.”

It’s an easy level, or you think it’s supposed to be. You spend most of your time running backwards, keeping one eye on the map so you don’t lose track of Tenko and the other eye out for enemies of any kind. On reflection, you do think your accuracy with shooting is a little weird. Between this level and the next one, you rack up a decent number of kills. “You’re already getting better,” Tenko says, grinning. “I bet we can beat this thing if we keep playing.”

“I’d like that,” you say – but you’re still thinking about Tenko’s semi-crazy idea that you meet a bunch of villains for crowd control. “About the allies – you trust me, but they won’t have any reason to. I’m still a civilian.”

“You’ll need a disguise,” Tenko says, which wasn’t what you were hoping he’d say. “Something that hides your face. “If any of them have a problem with you, they can take it up with me.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The idea of Tenko getting into it with other villains over you makes you feel sick. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I don’t want you to get hurt at all. You’re my best friend.”

“I’m not your boss,” Tenko says, which doesn’t make any sense. Your confusion must show on your face, because Tenko elaborates. “Earlier. You said sidekicks don’t run from their bosses, but I’m not your boss. I don’t want to be your boss. I want –”

He breaks off, clearly struggling with what to say. There’s a patchy flush coming up in his cheeks, and you see his hand rise, twitch toward his neck – then fall back. “I don’t want to be your boss,” he says again, looking everywhere but into your eyes. “I want – you should –”

“Shigaraki Tomura.” Kurogiri’s voice issues from behind you, and you and Tenko both jump. “Your master wishes to speak with you. You are overdue.”

“Shit,” Tenko mutters. His grip on the controller tightens, and you lift it out of his hands before all five fingers can touch it. “Where’s – I need –”

“Here.” You pick up the hand from the floor and pass it to him, feeling a chill go down your spine as you touch it. “Go talk to him. It’s okay.”

“I’m late. It isn’t.” Tenko settles the hand back over his face. His free hand rises again, clawing at the side of his neck, and something about the image, the situation, feels uncomfortably familiar to you. “I’ll send Kurogiri to get you again soon. For another date.”

“This was a date?”

“Of course it was.” Tenko gets up, heads for the door. “Remember. Find a disguise. I’ll see you soon.”

He’s gone, and a second later, so are you – Kurogiri drops you in an alley off the street you were walking on. He lingers for a moment, and the question explodes out of you. “It was a date?”

“I told him it’s not a date unless both people know it’s a date.” Kurogiri looks vaguely uncomfortable, and his voice is in the other register – the one that sounds more like an older brother than a servant. “Next time I’ll tell him I can’t find you.”

“Don’t do that,” you say at once. Even reeling like you are now, you’re sure that you want to see Tenko again. “Just – warn me, if you can. If it’s a date or something else.”

“I can do that.” Kurogiri vanishes, but his voice lingers for a moment more. “You protect him, too.”

What does that mean? Maybe it means that Kurogiri sees you like he sees himself – a protector of Shigaraki Tomura, although if there’s anyone you’re trying to protect, it’s Shimura Tenko, your best friend. Your best friend, who’s in a lot more trouble than you thought he was.

You’re standing in the middle of an alley. You need to get moving before someone peeks in here and starts asking questions. You slide your phone out of your pocket, raise it to your ear, and lower it as you step back out into the flow of traffic on the sidewalk, like you were taking a call that just ended. Your apartment’s not far away, so you’ll get there, and then you can think about all of this. The villains – the date – the scars on Tenko’s arm that look too much like yours – the scratching that didn’t start until after the hand covered his face. The hand he calls Father.

And that’s when you realize what it reminded you of, what happened when Kurogiri told Tenko his master was waiting for him. He was himself when you spoke to him, even after he put the hand back over his face – right down to how he reacted when his master called for him. Because his reaction looked the same as his reaction to his father calling for him when the two of you were kids.

You had a bad feeling about Tenko’s master, and now it’s worse. You have a bad feeling about what your involvement with Tenko means now, because he wants you to back him up when it comes to dealing with other villains, to take the de-escalation and conflict resolution skills you learned the hard way and put them to use keeping a band of villains together under Tenko’s control. You have a bad feeling because Tenko’s told you to find a disguise, to hide your identity like the villain you aren’t. You aren’t a villain. Are you?

Maybe you aren’t a villain – yet, a voice in your head whispers, you aren’t a villain yet – but there’s something wrong with you. There must be. Because knowing all that, knowing that you’re getting drawn further into Tenko’s plans, doesn’t do a thing to dampen your excitement at the thought that he wants to go on dates with you. That he likes you. That your best friend, who you always thought you’d have developed a crush on if the two of you had gotten to grow up together, might feel the same about you as you do about him.

[anonymous-dentist]

War is hell, so Bad feels right at home every time he steps onto the battlefield and pulls out his sword and watches the humans run for their tiny little insignificant lives. He isn’t a monster, so he only kills them when he needs to. (Who is he, Foolish?)

Some of the humans have started teaming up. The strong with the strong, the weak huddling with the weak. It’s pointless when they die, because everyone is alone in the End, but it’s the thought that counts.

Bad himself played solo for a long time, but now he’s managed to get himself a human teammate of his own. A… weird little ragamuffin of a teammate.

“Hey, Bad!”

Bad looks up from his soup to see Candy waving some guy’s arm around like it’s his own, a big toothy grin on his muddy little face.

Bad waves back. “C’mere, dinner’s ready!”

Candy grimaces, but he brings himself and his arm over to the fire, and he picks up the bowl of mushroom soup, and he digs in.

Candy is a strange child.

He’s a cannibal, for one, which is apparently rare among humans; when Bad picked him up, Candy had been blacklisted from most of the other teams because he kept eating his teammates. (Which is crazy, because a growing boy needs to eat!) Sometimes Bad will wake up in the middle of the night to someone gnawing on his arm, but that’s fine, whatever flesh he may lose will just grow back. As long as Candy isn’t starving, he’s useful.

And then there’s the whole amnesiac thing. Because, apparently, Candy was dropped into the war from a literal helicopter, and he doesn’t even know his own name, let alone the guys that deposited him. He knows how to kill, though, so he isn’t all that useless.

He’s called Candy because Bad calls him that. He says he doesn’t have a name, but he’s fine with having a nickname for Bad to call out in the heat of battle. He’s named Candy because, well, he likes candy. It’s the one thing he likes to eat besides human flesh, and Bad can’t exactly call a human child “Flesh”. That would be weird.

Candy shivers in the night wind and pulls his flimsy little coat tighter around his shoulders.

With a sigh, Bad pulls his cloak off and drops it on top of Candy’s head; Candy shouts, but he wiggles the cloak down around his shoulders, practically swimming in it.

(Candy is so small, it’s hard to believe he’s fifteen. Between the supposed white helicopter that brought him to war and the amnesia and the burn scars on his temples, Bad has an idea as to what happened, but, honestly, he doesn’t care. Really. Because Candy is going to die any day now, and he’ll be much happier in the afterlife.)

“I’ve been thinking,” says Candy.

Bad gasps dramatically. “Really?”

Candy ignores him: “When I get out of here, I wanna be a detective.”

And isn’t that a thought, escaping the war? Of course, Bad can leave at any time. But the humans like Candy are trapped.

(Occasionally, Bad has thought about leaving and bringing Candy with him to start training as his replacement, but the kid isn’t quite Grim Reaper material beyond being astonishingly good at killing people.)

“What, so you can find your family?” Bad asks.

Candy shakes his head. “I want to find the helicopter. I want to kill them.”

“Oooh, good idea! When you do, send me pictures!”

“Duh,” Candy scoffs. He points his spoon at Bad with a roll of the eyes all the attitude of a human teenager. “But you’re actually coming with me, sooooo….”

Bad raises an eyebrow. “Am I?”

Candy nods. “Yeah! We’re teammates! You have to be there!”

With that fire in his eyes and the blood still crusting his lips and fingers, it’s easy to see why this kid is one of the most feared soldiers out there. It’s why Bad has kept him so long. (He definitely isn’t attached, shhh!)

So Bad nods, playing along. “Sure, sure.”

Because, really, Candy is going to be dead soon. Call it a gut feeling. Nobody Bad has ever gotten along with has survived this long, so the poor kid is going to die in a few days. The war is going to take him like it’s taken so many others, and there’s nothing Bad can do about it.

And, four days later when they get separated in a battle, Bad doesn’t bother looking for him when the bodies are all on the floor. Candy isn’t among them, but he’s probably off dying in a ditch somewhere else.

Bad flicks the blood off his sword and stalks into the night in search of his next victory, not noticing two tear-filled, terrified blue eyes following him until he’s out of sight.

(And eleven years later when Bad sees Cellbit in the ruins of a crashed cargo ship, and when Cellbit notices him and immediately bursts into a huge grin, Bad almost wonders if he’s managed to break the curse after all.)

[gloomzi]

THIS MAY BE BASED OFF A SAM C AI BOT I TALKED TO BUT OML ILL LOVE TO SEE YOU WRITE IT

This will take time after Sam escapes and is in readers dorm.

The reader ends up taking Sam out to a local place like Walmart because earlier Sam said he wanted to get out for once a be a normal person. But the reader wasn't one to get out themselves or evening party, so they did the best they could. Take sam to Walmart. Once arriving the reader pulls out a shopping cart, looking over at sam with a half smile "wanna get in and I push you around?" Which leads sam being pushed around a Walmart in a shopping cart by the reader. So they takes him down different isle with the frozen snacks, spicy chips, drinks, etc and this kid looks like he is in mfing disney land but the characters are actually the characters.

(I ended up taking sam to the toy isle and he picked out a monster high doll and I educated him on the lore to which he picked frankine. Boy got taste)

waaah thank u for the request! sry it took longer than expected, shit just kept coming up in my life TvT but regardless i hope u enjoy it!

WORD COUNT 2622

WARNINGS is primarily fluff but ends on a bit of a hurt/comfort note (sry), prose heavy

Ever since Sam had started staying in your dorm, he had been asking to go out and do something normal for once—nothing big, just something to get him out of the building, like grocery shopping or going to a party. Something where nobody would be paying attention to the people around them or would be too drunk to remember anyways.

Unfortunately for him, you were a bit too paranoid about your current predicament to want to bring him out in public—you wished that you could, but you knew all too well the lengths others would go to to hurt Sam, to bring him back to the woods, and you didn’t want to risk that—and you didn’t really have friends that were the partying type anyways. Or well, not anymore. Not since that last party where Andre nearly killed someone and Marie was almost expelled.

So, that left you with two options: keep telling Sam no while he gets more and more frustrated at being stuck in your cramped dorm room with little entertainment, or drive him far enough out of town that there was a decreased chance of him getting caught. 

You chose the latter.

As soon as you came back from classes that Friday, you were throwing an oversized hoodie at the boy and a plastic package containing black face masks, “C’mon Sam, we’re going on a trip!”

He was ecstatic, immediately dropping whatever it was he was holding—upon second glance you realized it was a few of your minifigs, embarrassing—to get dressed.

Seeing him struggle to change into his not so stellar disguise, you giggled, helping him tug the edge of the hoodie off his elbow where it had been stuck and over his stomach, flattening the fabric for him before handing him a cheap pair of readers off your desk and the masks which had fallen to the floor.

“Ground rules, Sam, okay? We’re going to be heading out of town, but until we cross town lines you have to keep all of this on, got it? And when we get there you can’t leave my side, you gotta stay where I can see you.” You said, watching as he slipped on the glasses, which were, admittedly, a bit silly looking on him, but it was endearing in a way.

Sam nodded quickly, grinning down at you, “Yeah, yeah, of course! Whatever you say!” Sam paused, tearing open the packaging on the masks before looking back up at you, “Where are we going again…?”

You chuckled, turning on your heel to switch your school bag out for a smaller one, stuffing your necessities in it, “Walmart, honey. You been before? When you were younger maybe?”

Sam hummed, thinking for a second before shrugging, “I mean, probably…the name sounds familiar, but I don’t really remember.”

You found that Sam didn’t mind talking about stuff he remembered from before The Woods or Sage Grove Center, in fact he usually recalled those times fondly, but his memory seemed pretty spotty before then.

“Fair enough,” You shrugged back, “Ready to go?” You held out a hand for him to grab, tugging your bag onto your shoulder with your other hand.

Sam nodded, smiling softly and taking your hand, allowing you to lead him out of the building and to the parking lot. 

Not many students on campus had cars, you yourself having only got one from your parents which you pay them back for monthly, meaning it was fairly easy to find where you had parked earlier in the week. Your car was on the older side, nowhere near glamorous—the thing didn’t even have an aux cord, so CDs were practically your life line now—but it ran well enough and you kept it clean and nicely decorated, from bumper stickers to stuffies in the backseat.

Sam peaked in the window, seemingly intrigued by the unreasonable amount of plush toys taking up space, but quickly snapped out of it when you pulled open the passenger door, waving him in.

You rounded the car quickly, hopping in and starting it up so you could show Sam how the radio worked and help him readjust his seat until he was comfortable.

“See, you can pull this thing right here backwards or forwards to bring your seat closer or further away from the dash, and if you pull this other one behind it it’ll adjust the back of your seat to recline more.” You guided him, holding your hand over his to make sure he felt where everything was, “And if you want to change any of the CDs, I keep all of mine right here in the center console, you just need to hit this eject button here to take out one and then the load button to put in the new one!”

Sam nodded along, asking questions about your CDs and which ones you liked best, fiddling with the volume to hear better before settling on one.

“Alright, ready to go now? Seatbelt on?”

“Yeah, let's go!”

Pulling out of the parking lot, you and Sam talked lightly, him mostly staring out the window and asking questions about the town and little stores you passed while you focused on driving, answering with fond amusement.

The drive was a bit longer than you were used to making, but you had to get out of town, so you knew it would be at least an hour, CDs seeming to come and go faster than you remember them being, though you guessed it might have something to do with Sam being there to talk over them.

By the time you had made it to the Walmart Sam had changed out of his sad excuse for a disguise, the hoodie being thrown into your backseat in favor of just wearing a white long sleeve with a graphic tee over it, glasses tucked into your sunglasses compartment and mask shoved into your glovebox. Both of you were getting a bit hungry at this point, so you felt relieved to see there was a Dunkin inside the Walmart as well, ordering you and Sam some hash browns and a vanilla bean coolatta to split.

Just based on his reaction you could tell he wasn’t used to having anything as sweet as that drink, his lips puckering as his eyes went wide, “Jesus christ, this shit must be loaded with sugar!”

“Oh yeah, that’s why we’re splitting it, I’d get sick otherwise,” You laughed, “You like it though, right? If not, I can buy you something else.”

“No, no, it’s really good! I like it!”

You hummed in acknowledgement, starting to walk towards the carts, knowing Sam would follow. Grabbing one of the large carts, you tapped the side, “Wanna get in? I’ll push you around.”

Sam’s eyes lit up, as he practically bounced up to the cart, “Hell yeah!” He cheered, throwing a leg over the side, cart wobbling lightly as you tried to hold it steady before he finally fell the rest of the way in, drink held in the air to keep it safe.

You giggled, holding your hand out for the drink so you could take a sip before handing it back to him, “Do you want to get some snacks for the dorm first? Anything you want as long as it’s not ridiculously expensive.”

Sam nodded, sipping on the drink once more with a small smile. He looked like a kid on Christmas, eyes lit up as he looked at practically every item you came across, trying to decide whether or not he liked the sound of different chip flavors and microwave noodles.

Maybe I should just get him one of those mini stoves that plugs into the wall…does he even know how to cook though? Probably not. You thought, rolling the cart into the drinks aisle and grabbing a case of water bottles.

“Hey, do you know how to cook?” You asked, starting to push the cart again. You had cleared all the food aisles, so now you just needed to grab him some clothes and maybe check out the toy aisles too. You always liked looking for figurines and board games in there, Sam would probably like that stuff too if you had to venture a guess.

“Sort of? My mom taught me simple stuff when I was younger.”

You nodded, “I can show you how to do some other stuff then, I’ll just have to get you something to cook with in the dorm.”

“Thank you…” Sam muttered, pursing his lips like he had more to say, but decided against it. You didn’t push. If Sam really wanted to say something, he’d say it in due time.

Finally arriving in the men’s section, you pushed the cart to the side, motioning for Sam to get out. He looked confused, but got out anyway, clambering over the side with about as much grace as a baby deer.

“You’re gonna have to try stuff on or at least hold it up to your frame to make sure it fits,” You said.

“Ohh, okay.” He said, putting the coolatta down in the cart’s baby seat.

For the next few minutes you watched him pick out clothes and hold them up to himself, pulling them on over his own shirt occasionally, but mostly just sizing up if he was unsure. He didn’t seem too picky, but you could tell he liked the more colorful patterns, only picking up darker clothes for “outings”, as he kept referring to them. He even picked up a few anime shirts, asking if you were familiar with the shows and if they were any good before deciding to just get a Naruto shirt anyways, thinking the design was cute, which got a hearty laugh out of you.

You made sure he picked out some sweaters and sleep clothes as well, boxers and socks, a few pairs of jeans and a pair of sturdy shoes, since his old ones were pretty beat up. The perks of working a part time job while having only a couple expenses meant you could pretty much splurge on him all you wanted and thank god for that, you didn’t know if you had the heart to say no to him.

After he had been satisfied with all his selections he had climbed back into the cart, pushing the growing pile of stuff around until it surrounded him like a nest of clothes and food.

“Do you want to check out the toys now? Or maybe some books?” You asked, lightly pushing him through the rows between the aisles. You figured you would be passing the section anyways and you had caught him reading once or twice in your room, maybe he’d want something newer.

“Could we do both? I think I’ve read through most of your collection already and Emma doesn’t have anything that isn’t from 2013 or earlier,” He groaned.

You huffed a laugh, smacking at his shoulder, “Just because Emma is reliving her YA fantasy doesn’t mean you get to shit on her taste!”

Sam whined dramatically, rubbing his shoulder as if you had actually hurt him, “Owww, careful or I’ll never even make it to the books!”

“‘Owww, careful’,” You mocked, snorting, “go pick out a book you menace!”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the grin on his face as he climbed back out of the cart, perusing the aisle, muttering to himself about each book. 

As he looked at the books you watched fondly, leaning against the cart until he was finished debating and set two thick hardcovers into the growing pile of items surrounding the empty spot he quickly climbed back into.

“To the toys!” Sam whooped, fist pumping the air as you pushed off in the direction of the aisle. 

You giggled, ruffling his hair, “To the toys!”

As soon as the aisles of toys came into view Sam was practically throwing himself out of the cart, tripping over his shoes until he was picking up a couple Barbie dolls, looking them over with excitement, “How many can I get?”

“How about we look at everything and then you pick out a few, okay? I can always get you more if you want.”

Sam nodded, beginning to saunter down the aisles, not checking to see if you were following as he picked things off the shelves to inspect before putting them back. After what was probably 10 or so minutes he started going back through the aisles and making his final selections, at which time you decided to actually look at some of the games and cheaper action figures.

By now you were pretty confident he wouldn’t wander off so you didn’t mind turning your back to him, grabbing a couple packs of cards to replace ones that had been ruined by a drunk Jordan months ago.

Shuffling a bit to the side you crouched down to check out some of the board games, tracing your finger over the price strips as you checked each one. Just as you pulled out one of the monopoly boards you heard Sam’s voice from across the aisle, anger clearly laced into his words, though he was quiet enough that you couldn’t make out the whole sentence.

Standing slowly, you padded over to the boy, making sure you were loud enough that he heard you approaching before you crouched at his side, a hand sliding over his back to squeeze at his shoulder, “You good?”

Sam took a deep breath, his shoulders wracking as he exhaled before a small no fell from his lips, the plastic packaging on the doll he was holding creasing under his hold.

“Did you want her?” You asked softly, your other hand sliding over his wrist softly to ease the toy out of his grip. It was a Ghoulia doll. 

Sam nodded shakily, letting you take the doll and place it in the cart before you went back to help him up, “You wanna go now?” You asked softly, already knowing the answer, but wanting to give him the choice rather than just saying you were leaving. He was quick to nod. 

“Let’s go through self checkout then, okay?”

Sam nodded once more, shuffling to stand by you, one of his hands looping around your arm as you started to push the cart.

You weren’t exactly surprised the trip was ending like this, Sam was still easily overwhelmed by new things, not to mention his still untreated illnesses. It wasn’t the first time you had taken him out to buy something and he had been triggered or had a hallucination, but you didn’t mind helping him through it in any way you could. He still needed to get out sometimes, if not for him to start to readjust to normal society outside The Woods, then for him to pick out his own things. You didn’t want him to keep living like a prisoner who didn’t even get his clothes anymore, let alone a choice in his dinner or snacks.

As soon as you got to the self checkout Sam let go of your arm, letting you ring up everything and bag it as he watched in relative silence, tugging at strands of his hair in an attempt to self regulate. Once you had finished paying, you were quick to lead him back to the car.

Just as you were pulling open his door, you just barely caught the sound of him speaking, his voice wavering, “‘M sorry, (Y/N).”

Shaking your head, you reached up to cup the side of his face, tucking his hair behind his ear, “You did good, Sam, really. There’s no need to be sorry, these things happen. Let’s just get home now, okay?”

[acetonelungz]

Jaws

pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4

Simon Riley was a whisper in the wind.

Rumors and wise tells of the infamous “Ghost” haunted every soldier, even those not on the opposing team.

He was scary. And not the little kid monster type of scary, scary as in he stood in the corner and watched you like prey. Scary in the way that everyone thought of him as a ticking time bomb. Expect for John Price.

“So are you in, Simon?”

“Ghost is in, Simon is gone.”

“Ah, right. My bad mate.”

And now he was here, in enemy territory aiding in the rescue of some soldier.

Simon was the type to not question missions and just simply get the job done.

This one was different though.

Why make a big fuss over some low grade soldier? Quite a bit of trouble over a nobody. His questions remained mere thoughts, as he wouldn’t question out loud his authoritative figures. Ghost also quite literally couldn’t give two fucks.

Following Price, he scoured the hallways, making sure to take down everything threat and security camera. Soon enough, they arrived at a heavily locked door.

“This outta be it.” Price whispered back towards Ghost. “Plantin’ a lil package.” He placed an IUD on the door and quickly found cover before an explosion sounded off.

Deciding to do double kill, he threw a flash bomb to curb any possible threats.

Upon running into the space, he discovered exactly what they had been looking for.

A little feisty brunette who attempted to kick him in the balls.

“I’m Captain Price and we’re here to rescue you.”

“Took ya fucking long enough.” Ghost chuckled.

“Whats funny fuckface?” He did not chuckle this time.

Price huffed a half-assed laugh while lifting her up by the arms, “Easy there, we’re just here to help and we need to leave asap.” With that he turned and headed towards the now torn up door.

She followed wordlessly behind him, as well as Ghost.

As they walked towards around the base, the bodies of soldiers could be seen all along the corridors and hallways. One in particular, was the guard from earlier. It took everything within her not to spit on his dead body, but rather she lightly kicked it. In return Price gave her a unsatisfied look.

“I think after what I’ve been through I can at least do that.”

He nodded without saying a word.

Soon enough they reached the massive tan military trucks just outside the base, only two were present which sparked confusion within the woman.

“How many of there were you?”

“What’d you expect a bloody army private?” Ghost huffed from underneath his mask.

This royally pissed her off.

She quickly got into his face, sneering “Actually it’s lieutenant, and for how many bodies there were I assumed there were more of you. Not an unintelligent question but rather an unintelligent response.”

“You have five seconds to get the fuck out of my face-“

“Okay you two.” Price quickly separated the two, focused on the woman while saying, “We need to be cordial if we’re going to figure this entire thing out. Once we get back to base there are many questions we need to find the answer to. The sooner we get back the sooner you can be done with this all. So knock it off and get the in the bloody truck.”

“Yes Captain.” They said in unison, the woman glared at Ghost while he remained unbothered. Realizing it wasn’t worth it, she dropped it and got in the truck.

‘My first interaction with people in six months and this is what I’m dealing with. One dressed up asshole who is awkward as a prepubescent boy and an old man who thinks he’s my father.’ She thought while riding in the back while Ghost rode passenger with Price driving.

“I forgot to ask earlier,” Price started, breaking the girl out of her thoughts. “Can you confirm your name and status?”

“Lieutenant Collette Swanson also known as Jaws.”

[theresattrpgforthat]

hello! long time fan, second time asker! any fallout/fallout-esque ttrpg recommendations? esp. styled after 1, 2, and new vegas. could be recommendations based on setting, vibe, mechanics - whatever you like :) i did already get after the bombs fell by the illustrious aaron king on your recommendation, and am very excited to play! if you've already answered this kind of ask before, then maybe some recommendations for trigun-esque ttrpgs - i love the setting of trigun, and i think it would lend itself well to an rpg. anyways, thank you so much for all you do, and for opening my eyes to so many fun games! happy adventuring to you!

THEME: Trigun!

Alright so for Fallout games, I think I did a really good job in my Fallout Recommendation Post, and I also reblogged this post a while back that has a few more hits involved. I might also have a few more recs at the end of this post. So I guess what we’re going to try to do today is find some games that would lend themselves to running a Trigun-style game!

I haven’t seen Trigun, so I did some research about it. From what I understand, it’s about Vash, a superpowered outcast who’s being hunted by people for a big bounty, despite his vow to never take another person’s life. The series seems to be an examination about the choice to act or not, and the characters all seemed to be flawed or haunted in one way or another. What’s really interesting to me is that this feels to have a lot of overlap with the themes of Cowboy Bebop, especially since the creators of Trigun appear to be inspired by westerns as well.

With that in mind, I’ve got a lot of space - western ttrpgs here; the settings of all of these can probably be altered to reflect more closely the setting of Trigun, without doing that much harm to the way the rules work.

BXLLET, by Rathayibacter.

The world was broken, a long time ago. We've fought hard to build something better in the aftermath, but we're haunted by the ruins, weapons, and monsters of the past. Will you scratch out a corner of paradise, or will you give in to the temptations of the gun on your hip?

[BXLLET> is a game about systems of violence and power in a world rebuilding itself. As wandering gunslingers, you'll travel the world and do what you can to help the people you encounter. You'll become more powerful the more bullets you carry, but you'll also struggle with the responsibility that power carries with it. Violence will come easily to you, but can you feed crops with rivers of blood?

This game deals with issues of gun violence, exploitation, and apocalypse, and those sensitive to those issues should go into this fully aware. It's not a game for fascists, bigots, capitalists, or their lackeys, and shouldn't be approached from a perspective that boils the complexities of the world into "good guys with guns vs bad guys with guns."

If you want a game that directly tackles the uses of violence and the weight that comes with the decision to kill, I definitely recommend checking out BXLLET. One of the most poignant mechanics of this game revolves around the storage of bullets, and the way your bullet hoard gives you powers. If you spend a bullet, someone will die - you won’t have to roll for it. But if you spend your bullets, you’re also spending your XP. I think it’s very interesting that you only gain the use of special powers if you choose not to spend your killing resource - and by using your bullets to kill, you also lose special, very effective powers.

Even though BXLLET isn’t necessarily a space western, I think it definitely communicates the themes of Trigun in a very interesting way, and I definitely think it’s worth checking out.

Orbital Blues, by Soulmuppet Publishing.

This is the rock and roll future of yesteryear that never was—and nobody wanted.  It is an intergalactic age of cowboys, outlaws and bandits playing on an interstellar stage. It is a time of hyper-capitalism and a cut-throat gig economy. Unreliable trash-heaps carry scrappy underdogs to their next gig, and corporation freighters lumber across the horizon laden with an empire’s bounty. These are the music-fuelled, moon-age daydreams of a rebel space age.  These are your ORBITAL BLUES.

ORBITAL BLUES is a lo-fi space western roleplaying game from SoulMuppet Publishing, written by Sam Sleney & Zachary Cox.  A roleplaying love-letter to off-beat sci-fi, vintage music, and cooperative old-school styled roleplay, Orbital Blues allows you to play out rules-light tabletop adventures in the style of space westerns. Stepping into the shoes of Interstellar Outlaws, players band together to form Crews, and navigate a hard-going, gig-economy living on the fringes of a space-faring society.

Orbital Blues is more in the style of Firefly and Cowboy Bebop, but from what I gather about Trigun, that somewhat sad western feel rings true for that series as well. As sad space cowboys, each of the players chooses a Gambit - a special ability that is special to your character - as well as a Trouble - something that haunts your character, a problem that just won’t go away. Playing into your Trouble grants you a Blues, a measure of how much of your past sins weigh down on you. Should your Blues get too high, you’ll have to confront your Trouble, but this also allows you to spend your Blues like a resource, and at the end of the scene, you can gain new abilities, restore health, or increase a stat by 1.

If you want a game where wrestling with your past and your worries is what fuels your character’s story, you want Orbital Blues.

Clink, by Technical Grimoire Games.

Clink is a tabletop RPG about drifters, the creeds that bring them together, and the history that drives them apart. This game uses coins to tell a story inspired by spaghetti westerns, ronin tales, and shows like Firefly or Supernatural.

Your past is a mystery, but your Creed drives you forward.

Characters begin as rough sketches of the shifty sort you’d see in an old Western or Noir film. They all start as blank slates, their histories unknown. Tell stories about their past and create your character as you play.

You can play Clink in the setting of your choice, but what remains true about the characters is that they are competent, and they drift from place to place. As a group, all of you have the same Creed, a commitment that the group promises to follow - perhaps that they will seek revenge, or that they will never kill someone in their search for peace. Your characters will also have personal Triggers - certain situations or actions that prompt them to do something that puts them and the group in trouble. Your backstory isn’t written at the beginning of the game, but rather unraveled through moments called Flashbacks, which do double duty as exposition as well as the reason why your Drifter is good at roping, shooting, piloting, and more.

Finally, Clink uses coins, two of which are flipped every time you attempt something difficult or dangerous. As long as one of those coins comes up heads, you’ll do alright - but get double tails and your success comes at a cost - a Scar. Scars are dark moments from your part, moments you wish you didn’t have to relive. Gain too many Scars, and your group may splinter, bringing the story to a bitter or sorrowful end.

Dubious Pursuits, by Nested Games.

Dubious Pursuits is a short, PbtA RPG  for 4-6 players about Bounty Hunters in pursuit of their target, emulated stories like Cowboy Bebop. Your pursuit will be propelled not by violence, but by learning personal details about your bounty and what brought them to this point. What will you do when you finally catch up with them? 

Dubious Pursuits credits Cowboy Bebop as a source of inspiration, but I think it has the ability of delivering an emotional story that challenges your players to face the complexities of chasing down someone while learning things about them that might make bringing them to justice harder and harder to do. I don’t own the game so I’m not sure how much control the table has over the truths of the target, but I wonder if it might be possible to use this game to approach a super-powered bounty from the perspective of someone like Meryl Strife.

24BB: The Mud, The Blood, & The Beer by Calvin J’onzz.

You are a sinner. You are wicked. You have taken human life, first in self defense but then because it felt good. You have stolen from those in need, first to survive but then because it was easy. You have treated humans as objects and property because they were less powerful and could not stop you. But now you have stopped doing those things. You are still that person—you still want to do those things—but you are trying on a different approach to life. You have realized a new ethos, and you feel deep camaraderie with any who share it.

A Western. The world presented here aims to reflect the weirdness of Trigun and the energy of The Mandalorian without losing the tension of For a Fistful of Dollars. The gravitas of Clint Eastwood's The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly or the schlock of Patrick Swayze's Steel Dawn is optional. 

The rules for MBB are pretty easy to pick up - different size dice that scale up with your skill and a simple threshold of 4 to beat for any given roll - and the setting is minimalistic, allowing you to flavor or fill it as you like. Trigun is listed directly in the series of references for this game, which tells me that you’ll be able to create a character similar to Vash without any trouble.

A unique mechanic to this version of 24XX is your character’s edge. Edge is a meta-resource (that could have a physical manifestation) belonging to your character that can give you a boost when you need it, or that can help you avoid some kind of consequence. Edges are one-use items that are erased when tapped, although they can be gained again during play. You can take an edge when you play into your one redeeming virtue, such as never harming kids, taking others’ burdens, or aiding in forgiveness. The game comes with a whole roll table to inspire your personal edges, and I think these virtues make this game an homage to Trigun more than anything else.

Magitech Space Western, by ApexCity.

Welcome to the Beyond, pard. Beyond what? Beyond hope or help, beyond safety and security. Unfortunately, not beyond the reach of the Law or the Civ, or the ever avaricious Corporations. Beyond just about everything that you’ve been told is necessary to survive, though. But that’s ok. Dust yourself off, pick yourself up, and let’s take a stroll…

Magitech Space Western is a card-based hack of Powered by the Apocalypse, using a standard set of playing cards to determine the outcomes of actions instead of dice. It also includes variants of Poker and Blackjack to abstract player conflict and vehicle action, respectively.

While this game comes from the PbtA design school, the use of cards instead of dice leans into the themes of the genre, asking the players to build their characters according to two card suits of their choice. These card suits represent different aspects of a character’s personality. The staggered successes of PbtA show up here as the values on the cards you draw and play - 7-10 for a mixed success, Jack-Ace for a full success, and a 6 or lower for a a miss. However, since you’re playing from a hand that you might have, you may occasionally get to choose what you play - and playing cards that align with the suits you’ve chosen give you something extra to spend down the road.

Since you’re playing from a deck, you can to some extent plan around what’s already been drawn as you play. I think this might also allow an ebb and flow as you tell the story - a string of bad luck should lead to something good, and a string of good luck means that there’s trouble down the road.

When it comes to setting, you’re all existing in a capitalistic world that ignores the troubles of the marginalized and the backwater folks. Expect to attract trouble from the rich, the powerful, and the desperate - and expect that things are never going to go completely your way.

Other Games I Recommend….

Check out my Post Apocalypstic Community Recommendation Post!

I also did a Nuclear Radiation Recommendation Post a while back.

I’ve got a Space and Stars Recommendation Post that might have some funky settings.

I also have another Space Western Recommendation Post that have some overlap with what you see here, but also have more options!

[twenty-qs]

Megumi and Tsumiki do not have a good relationship.

Jujutsu Kaisen is a Greek tragedy. Our heroes are flawed and those flaws bring about their doom. Plenty of people have given great analyses about how this relates to Megumi’s and Yuuji’s relationship, but today I want to talk about the Fushiguro siblings.

Initially, we only know about Tsumiki from Megumi’s POV. She’s sleeping beauty, the archetypical absent female character whose tragic fate propels the male hero forward. He clearly holds her as the ideal of a ‘good person’ in his mind.

So I was quite shocked when we finally see what their relationship was actually like.

First of all, Megumi visibly resents her. He rejects all of her attempts at caretaking, and he’s blunt and cruel about it. And Tsumiki is not the perfect patient princess we’ve been led to believe. She lashes out, kind of violently—she doesn’t regret throwing the carton at him, only that it still had milk in it. (Lol.) She didn’t throw it because Megumi got in a fight, she threw it because Megumi said he hated her. Megumi says Tsumiki was kind to him and supported him, but the only thing we’re shown is this really acrimonious exchange. It creates an uneasy feeling. Can we trust Megumi’s perspective? Is he misremembering something?

Clearly, these two did not get along. They’re both traumatized children who were abandoned by their parents, and Tsumiki coped by trying to play house, while Megumi coped by being distant and angry. They can’t understand each other or communicate properly. They must have constantly fought as kids. All they have in the world is each other, and they resent each other for it.

Immediately after this scene, Tsumiki does the test of courage and gets cursed—so this might be the last time they saw each other before Tsumiki fell into a coma. (I’m not super clear on the timeline, but it would make sense.) Megumi, like a child who only appreciates something’s value after it’s gone, finally realizes Tsumiki’s true strength of character.

And you would THINK that he’s learned something. You would THINK that their relationship would be different now that Tsumiki’s finally awake again.

But once they reunited, did he apologize? Did he say “Hey sis, sorry for being such a brat”? Did he say “I’m glad you’re awake again, I love you”?

No! Basically the first thing he says, after a brief mention of the culling game, is “You can go back to sleep.” After she’s been asleep for over a year and a half. After he’s been waiting faithfully for her to wake up for a YEAR AND A HALF.

Imagine Sleeping Beauty suddenly waking up by herself, and then Prince Charming going, wait, actually, nevermind. I don’t need you. Nobody needs you. I haven't killed the dragon yet, you're not supposed to be awake. GO BACK TO SLEEP.

That’s cruel. Tsumiki, and the curse possessing her, know that’s cruel. Nothing has changed in their relationship since before she was cursed. Megumi is still too wrapped up in himself to think about her perspective, too busy going off on his own sacrificial missions without once stopping to ask her what she wants. And in response, Tsumiki is still smiling at him with daggers in her heart.

If Megumi had paid more attention to Tsumiki, if he had bothered to try to talk to her and cultivate a real connection once she woke up, maybe he would have noticed something was off. Maybe Tsumiki would have been able to fight off the curse somewhat. Maybe Megumi would have been able to tell the difference between his beloved sister and a monster.

But he didn’t. And he couldn’t. And that’s nobody’s fault but his own.