#now it's just funhouse game times

[refinedstorage]

I swear I see one more snotty kiryu on my feed

[hairmetal666]

Steve wins the bat plush at a fair when he's seven. He doesn't care about bats, but it's the prize for making all five baskets in the basketball game, so he gets the little bat. Its eyes are a little crooked and one wing is slightly smaller than the other, but it being lopsided sort of makes it cuter.

He and his dad, they're supposed to be going on rides now, but his dad's pager keeps going off. He puts Steve next to a funnel cake stand, tells him not to move, and goes in search of a pay phone. Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve is bored under the flashing lights and tinkling music. He wants to play not sit and wait.

Eventually, he drifts back towards the midway, watches the people rushing by, searches for a sign of his dad's return. His attention is caught by another boy at the basketball booth. He has to be about Steve's age, with a mop of dark curls on top of his head and a jean jacket that's slightly too big, sleeves flopping over his hands as he lines up his shots.

This boy, he's terrible at basketball. Every shot is too high or too short or goes wide, but he's trying. Even from this distance, Steve can see how hard he's trying. He uses up his five balls, fishes into his jacket pocket for more money, and gets five more.

He misses every shot. This time, when he goes back for more money, he comes up empty. Steve thinks he sees his lip shaking.

A man, one in a leather jacket and boots that Steve thinks look mean, comes up to the boy, drops a heavy hand on his shoulder. He's too far away to hear the conversation, assumes the boy asks to play again and the man's response is a shaken head and a tight smile. They walk away from the games, right towards Steve, who slinks back to the side of the midway, not wanting to be caught staring.

"What was it you wanted? That stupid bat? Just another piece of trash you wanna bring in my house." Steve hears as they pass.

The boy nods, but keeps his eyes down and to the side.

He feels bad then. Felt bad before, but now he looks at his own bat, at its funny eyes and poorly attached wings, and wishes he could hand it over to the boy who really wants it. Steve almost does, then, makes to go after them, but his dad appears, dropping a hand to Steve's shoulder and saying, "ready to hit those rides?" And he knows the opportunity is gone, knows his dad will say it's too soft, not what men do.

Steve manages to lose himself for a while in the swirling lights and funhouse music and carnival rides, forget about the little bat in his back pocket and the boy who wanted one so desperately. But then his dad's pager goes off some more, he goes back to the pay phone, and Steve ducks into the low brick building that houses the bathrooms.

His eyes immediately land on the same boy from the basketball game. His eyes are red, face damp, obviously from tears, and Steve just--

"Here." He shoves the bat into the boy's chest.

For a second, the brownest eyes Steve's ever seen widen at him, before narrowing in a harsh glare, the boy's teeth barred.

"Why?" He snarls.

Steve thinks he may regret every choice that led him to this but he says, he says, "Because I want you to have it."

The boy blinks a few times, hand reaching out to gently pinch the bat's smallest wing. "You sure?"

Steve nods and the bat is slowly withdrawn from his grasp.

"No takesies-backsies?"

"It's yours."

The boy looks at the bat in awe, and Steve says, "see? It already looks happier with you."

The boy's beaming smile is cut-off by a voice calling from the door, "you in there,? I ain't got time to be waiting for your boohooing."

"Coming!" The boy carefully tucks the bat into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," he whispers, eyes big and glistening and happy, before he disappears out the door.

---

13 years later, give or take a few months, and Steve stands in the cracked shell of a bisected trailer, rummaging through what remains of a life well-lived, searching for anything whole. He's already found a few undamaged mugs and clean hats, but this room--it took a lot of damage. The brunt of it, really. Some sick sort of joke, after everything.

It's mostly rubble in here, scraps of fabric; slivers of notebook paper, magazine, poster; crumbled shards of vinyl and cassette plastic. A few times he comes across the disembodied limb of one of those dnd figures, and something weird happens to his throat.

In the far corner there's half of a dresser collapsed into itself, and he shuffles through the debris to see what he can find. There's something, soft and black, just the edge of it, peaking out from under half of a drawer face. He pulls it out, careful as can be and it's--it's a plush bat. It's a little dirty, but unharmed, though its eyes are a little wonky, and one wing is smaller than the other.

He holds it and he stares and he has to brace himself against the wall. It can't be--it's not the same one--but he remembers those big brown eyes and the curls and--

"Harrington," a warm, rich voice calls from what's left of the hallway. "You get lost in there?"

Eddie shuffles in, slow, careful with his crutches. And it--it took so long, months and months of convalesce and physical therapy, still physical therapy, but he's here. He's alive. He's perfect. And the something blooming between them, it's not spoken yet, but it's there, growing, and now, now--

"Oh my god, you found Lilith! I thought she was toast."

"Lilith?" He's still cradling the little lopsided bat in his hands, but moves closer to hand it over to Eddie.

"Yes, Lilith." Eddie takes the bat, presses it to his chest. "The first boy I ever loved gave her to me."

His heart turns over in his chest and when he swallows his throat clicks. Eddie doesn't notice, he's smiling softly at the bat, at Lilith, but then, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"First boy you ever loved?" He says. He thinks he sounds normal.

Somehow, Eddie's smile grows even softer. "Yeah. Roan County Fair, years ago. Tried to win her, but--" he clicks his tongue--"never had great hand-eye coordination. And then this kid just gave her to me out of nowhere. I used to think I was going to marry him."

"And now?"

Eddie laughs. "I grew up, Steve."

And for a second, he doesn't know what to say, but then, "I was right then, huh? That she'd be happier with you."

He stares at Steve, those same big brown eyes, wide and glistening. "Steve that was--Steve?" Eddie presses a hand over his mouth, overcome, before launching himself into Steve's arms. The crutches clatter to the floor, but Steve has him, will always have him, no matter what.

"I can't believe you kept her," Steve whispers.

"God, I carry her everywhere. She's Corroded Coffin's mascot, and you--Steve, I can't believe that was you."

"Surprise," he bumps Eddie's forehead with his.

They hold each other in the center of the destruction, but none of that matters right now, not when it feels like every moment since they very first met as children was leading them to this.

From the other half of the trailer, they hear footsteps, chattering, Wayne and Robin and Dustin, but Steve wants this to last a little longer.

"So, marriage...that still off the table?"

Eddie laughs softly, nuzzles his face against Steve's neck. "Are you kidding, sweetheart? No way I'm letting you go."

[vaguely-concerned]

I understand and agree with a lot of the frustrations about the shortcomings of Inquisition as a story. but sometimes when I hear people complain about the chosen one narrative in it I do want to just be like... you know it's a deconstruction of the concept more than anything, right. the inquisitor isn't actually chosen by anything except stumbling into the wrong (right?) room at the right (wrong?) time because they like, heard a noise or whatever. or if you think they are chosen, as many do in-universe, that's something you have to take on faith, the maker-or-whoever moves in mysterious ways indeed-style. the Inquisitor isn't actually a Destined Chosen One, they're a Just Some Guy in a fancy hat, self-delusions of grandeur to taste as you'd prefer.

a running thread that goes through all of the personal quests of the companions is the concept of a comforting lie vs. an uncomfortable truth, upholding old corrupt structures vs. disrupting them, and the role of faith in navigating that. (blackwall the warden vs. thom rainier the liar and murderer. hissrad vs. the iron bull, or is that the other way around? cassandra and the seekers -- do we tell the truth about what we find, even if it means dismantling the old order of the world? and so on.) and your inquisitor IS at the same time a comforting lie (a necessary one, in dark times? the game seems to ask) and an uncomfortable truth (we are the result of random fickle chance, no protective hand is held over the universe, it's on us to make a better world because the maker sure as hell won't lift a divine finger to help anyone, should he against all odds exist). faith wielded for political power... where's the point that it crosses the line into ugliness? is it before it even begins? what's the alternative? will anyone listen to the truth, if you tell it?

interesting how you also get a mix of companion agency in this -- you have characters like dorian who ALWAYS choose one side of the comforting lie vs. uncomfortable truth dichotomy. he will always make up his own mind to go back to tevinter and try to dismantle the corruption of the old system no matter what you say, or how you try to influence him. meanwhile iron bull is on the complete opposite side of the spectrum -- so psychologically trapped and mangled, caught in an impossible spiritual catch-22, that his sense of identity is left entirely to you and your mercy. you cannot change dorian in any way that matters; you can be his friend or not, support him or not, but he is whole no matter what. you are given incredible and potentially destructive-to-him power over bull's soul. it's really cool (and heartbreaking) to think about.

this is a game about how history will eat you even while you're still alive, and shape you into whatever image it pleases to serve it, and for all your incredible power right now you are powerless in the face of the gravitational force of time -- of more than time, of History. you won't recognize yourself in what History will make of you, because you belong to it now. you don't belong to yourself anymore and you never will again. the further you were from what it needs from you to begin with, the more you will find yourself distorted in its funhouse mirror. (why hello there inquisitor ameridan, same hat!)

and to me this is so much the core of what Dragon Age is about right from the Origins days -- how and by whom history gets written, the inherent unreliable narration of it all. I hope you like stories, Inquisitor. You are one now.

I do think it's probably still the weakest of the games narratively, and it's hampered by its structure and bloated systems. but I also find it disingenous to say that there's nothing deeper or actually interesting going on with it, thematically. if you're willing to engage with it there is Some Real Shit going on under the high fantasy-tinted surface.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC My Brother in the Mirror

Damian doesn't like mirrors.

He never mentioned the fact to other members of the family, but they are detectives and vigilantes, it's their job to be observant. Which, after so many years, becomes a habit.

Damian doesn't actively avoid the mirrors - he has a mirror in his bathroom, he didn't express any discomfort over going into a mirror labyrinth at some carnival they've attended (he expressed disgust over taking part in something so stupid, in his words, but that's a whole another story), and he actually spent a few minutes in front of the funhouse mirrors when no one was looking, watching his own reflection distort in various ways. He also has no problems with his self-image - he doesn't mind pictures of him taken at any time (unless it's Tim, but that's, again, a whole another story), he's drawn a few self-portraits that were rather accurate and he liked them.

He just doesn't like mirrors. For some reason.

His family, both close and extended, never questioned it. They did some gentle research to see if the dislike was caused by some kind of problem Damian was experiencing without telling anyone, but when they found no proof of that, they've just decided it was some quirk of his. Everyone has quirks. Dick doesn't like eating cereal like a normal person, Tim despises sleep, Steph is at war with any color other than purple.

That is, until one day, Tim witnesses Damian sitting in front of a mirror.

He is not even aware of it - the whole family is having a game night, and through some arguments and rearrangements on the couch, Damian ends up sitting on the left side of it, where his back is turned to one of the three mirrors in the room. Tim, who's lost the last round, is slumping in an armchair nearby, pointedly looking away from the screen where Damian and Jason are enthusiastically competing over the first place in Mario Cart. Of course, Tim can't just not watch it since he needs to know their strategies. But turning back around would also be admitting defeat.

The solution? Easy, watch the screen through the mirror.

Which is when he notices it.

Damian in the mirror doesn't act the same as Damian in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim can see the real Damian moving around, shoving Jason with his elbow, fully concentrated on the game, and yelling something. Damian-in-the-mirror is sitting unnaturally still, the back of his head over the couch unmoving.

Tim forgets all about the game when Damian's reflection starts to turn around. Slowly and carefully, eerie in the way the horror movies are, the boy in the mirror turns his head around like an owl, his neck twisting inhumanely.

His eyes are green. Green like the toxic waste, like Jason's madness, like acid in cartoons, like the Waters of Lazarus.

Damian in the mirror smiles, his unblinking, gliwing eyes fixed on Tim, and his teeth are sharp and pointy, and there are too many of them, humans can't smile this wide.

"-im? Tim!" A hand nudges him in the shoulder, and Tim looks away from the mirror, finding Dick standing over him. The noise of the game room returns all at once, and, wait, when did it become quiet for Tim?.. He must have a strange expression on his face because Dick's easy smile falls slightly, and he frowns, "Is everything okay?"

Tim looks back to the mirror, but the green-eyed boy in the mirror is gone, and the mirror only reflects Damian as he is: sitting on the couch.

"Yeah," Tim shakes his head and forces a smile on his lips, "I just zoned out."

"Okay," Dick pats him on the shoulder and gives him the controller, "It's your turn now."

Tim takes the controller and turns around, facing the screen. Tim throws a quick glance at Damian, who had slid down on the couch so his head would not be in the reflection anymore. Tim sees the cold, warning hint to his eye, a clear do not speak of it message.

Tim doesn't like that the mirror is now behind him.

[monakisu]

I want you to know that I came across a random post of your Death Note art, went "Awww, oh my gosh, with the way this person draws Light I think Akechi would look fantastic in the same style!", clicked onto your profile, and then saw your newest artwork was Akechi. I'm still kind of cackling over it and thought maybe you'd find it funny too. Your art is SO cute, I'm very happy I found it <333

HAHA THAT’S AMAZING (<< was an akechi artist wayyyy before i fell head over heels for light)

but rlly… theyre so similar:

- brunet

- asshole

- pretty boy

- mass murderer

- black-haired homoerotic rival

at the end of the day, the key difference is one is a top and the other is a bottom.

ok but seriously, they’re vastly different characters on a fundamental level:

- light was handed everything him on a silver platter: family, friends, looks, intellect, a comfortable life… as a bastard child of a sex worker and now an orphan, goro had to fight his way to his current position and will always harbor a terrible sense of inferiority (light is completely confident in his absolute superiority, Always (that’s why the challenge of L sent him off the deep end of obsession lol))

- light genuinely sees himself as a hero, while goro would like to feel the same but is nonetheless depressingly aware of his villain’s journey (his undesirable position as the detective vs the underdog phantom thieves, his string of assassinations, his ultimate dirty bloody goal, etc.).

- light’s motive is about the world’s salvation, cleansing, the birth of his ideal reality (very messianic of him with the slightest loving tinge of mary cradling her lamb hahaha) while goro is laser-focused on ruining this one asshole’s life in particular, vengeance and revenge at once! one’s focused on rebirth, and the other gunning straight for death! they both use murder to get what they want but light probably floats around thinking himself so clean and divine as mother of the world (ignorance is bliss) while goro is constantly desperately trying to cover up his suspiciously red hands with his gloves hehehe… they’re both constantly striving for perfection, just with varying levels of self-awareness!!

- goro is a canonical loner; light has a horde of friends; this is probably due to a difference in public persona! goro is an untouchable idea of what he thinks a human should be and is completely out of the loop when it comes to normal social interactions (believes opening with hegel will instantly endear himself to the average person (luckily he inflicted that upon akira who is decidedly not average in the slightest)), light is implied to be more down-to-earth and even slightly goofy (he’s gaming decorum like an advanced speedrunner)! it’s probably good how distant goro is, because getting any closer to him will allow you to see how off-putting and uncanny he is, sorta like an AI-generated image—seams in the wrong places and far too much teeth LOL. meanwhile light has this whole shebang so thoroughly figured out that he’s BORED with it all! he’d like to move on to the next game (with L), thank you!! light definitely still exudes uncanny creepiness (it’s his natural state of being) especially when he zones out or starts hysterically cackling out of nowhere at his own thoughts, but he’s a hundred times better at masking compared to goro due to a better upbringing. goro is starved for the adoring friends he sees akira easily picking up one after another; light couldn’t give less of a shit because he’s always had those trivial luxuries! he’d much rather prefer an adoring WORLD!!

- then there’s the difference in how they die… one started out surrounded with company but ultimately died alone, while it’s the opposite for the other (if you count the de-realization of maruki’s reality as goro’s “death” (which i don’t)).

- in conclusion, light and goro are like funhouse mirror reflections of each other!!! one is a pampered lapdog getting a taste of rabies and letting loose, while the other is a starving wolf trying to domesticate itself for treats and headpats!! and i <3 them both!!!!!

anyways i may be wrong about light because im going purely off of fics, tumblr shitposts, and my own imagination :] feel free to school me in a way that won’t destroy my delusions!

[cpericardium]

Compilation of Megafire's Wildbow Essays (Imported)

I haven't read all of them myself, but the few I did were always worthwhile and interesting, so I thought I'd index them here for anyone who hasn't heard of them or checked them out. As I recall, these were written by Megafire as the chapters were coming out.

CHARACTERIZATION OF CAROL IN WARD

REDDIT INDEX

Chapter 3.6 

The Warden's HQ, or, Playing With Time

Chapter 4.6 

Natalie, or, Working Through Proxies

Chapter 5.9 

Power Dynamics, or, Why Carol Love(s/d) Mark

Chapter 6.3 

Trust, Safety and Control, or, General Opinion

Chapter 7.4 

A Glimmer of Hope, or, Victoria and Carol have an Actual Conversation!?

Chapter 8.2 

Meeting the Parents, or, Never mind, Carol is Back to Being Carol

Chapter 8.9 

Baby Steps, or, Carol Manages to Respect Boundaries for Once

Chapter 9.12-9.13 

Bonus Damsel Interlude, or, This Will Pay Off Later, I Promise

Chapter 10.1 

The Diner, or, I Yell a Lot

Chapter 10.y 

Bonus Chris Interlude, or, This Has Nothing to Do With Carol, I Just Really Like This One

Chapter 12.1 

Ruminating on New Wave, or, Why Mark Loves Carol

Chapter 12.2 

Carol vs Damsel, or, I Told You It'd Pay Off

Chapter 12.f 

Ryan and Cradle, or, What It Means to be Good, and, Competing Access Needs, or, Why the Dream Room is the Worst

Chapter 12.9 

The Bubble, or, Making You Feel Even Worse About Carol Getting Hurt

Chapter 14.5 

The Greenhouse, or, Carol Brought Low

Chapter 14.6 (Sort of) 

Drawing Similarities, or, What's Left for Carol

Chapter 14.7 

Chris' Crossroads, or, Screw It, I Guess I'm Talking About Chris Too Now

Chapters 14.9 + 14.10 

Her Mother's Daughter, or, What Amy Learned From Carol

Chapter 14.12 

Piecing Together Chris, or, What Do Monsters Mean?

Chapter 15.7 

Slaves to Fate, or, Predictions and Responsibility

Also Chapter 15.7 

Ultimate Agency, or, Who Is Contessa?

Chapter 16.4 

Mockeries and Funhouse Mirrors, or, Paths Not Taken

Chapter 16.y 

Attempted Therapy, or, Amy Is Not Doing Well

Chapter 17.1 

Family Issues, or, Confrontations Vis-a-Vis Parentage

Chapter 19.1 

The Curious Case of Sarah Pelham, or, A Basic Overview of the Shit That Happened to Sarah

Chapter 19.9-19.10 

The Talk, or, How To Screw Up Your Kids In One Easy Conversation

Chapter 20.e6 

Carol: Final, or, What Has Carol Learned? (Hint: Not Much)

---

PALE ANALYSIS

REDDIT INDEX

Verona and her Dad, a Transactional analysis

Why Verona's Dad is a Literal Manchild - mostly about Out on a Limb 3.1, but with references to 3.4

Adults, Parents and Children

Lucy is Verona's Only Good Parental Figure (and That's Kind Of Sad) - Leaving a Mark 4.2

Pale: Justice

The Cast Of Law And Order: Kennet - Cutting Class 6.z

Practitioner Supremacy

Boy There Are Some Real World Parallels Here - Gone Ahead 7.1

Practitioner Parenting

Regular Old Bad Parenting - Vanishing Points 8.4

Abuse

Brett is an Absolute Bastard - Shaking Hands 9.9

Avery's Games and Gimmicks

Breaking Patterns Is Hard - Dash to Pieces 11.10

Transgressive Acts

Why the Mussers are like the Spartans - Break 5

Practitioners and Others, a Binary

The Binary is a Lie! - Gone and Done It 17.x

Judging the Judiciary

What About the Judges? - Crossed With Silver 19.z

Hostile Environment

Power Plays for the Future - In Absentia 21.12

[6rookie-writer0110]

Don't wake me up

Astrid Deetz x Reader (Gender-Neutral)

Summary - Date night at an abandoned theme park.

“What are we doing here?” Astrid asked.

“This is our date here,” You said.

You and Astrid are standing in front of an abandoned theme park at night.

“You said you didn't want a normal date,” You said.

“I didn't say that. But this could be fun, but nothing will work without the power” Astrid said.

“You don't have to be negative, I already thought about that” You smiled.

You kissed her cheek and she smiled. She grabbed your hand and followed you inside. You showed her where is the powerbox and you turned it on. Some of the rides did turn and others didn't turn on. You and Astrid start to walk around and you are feeling a little scared, but you don't tell her. She felt the squeeze you did on her hand but she didn't say anything about it. You and Astrid are standing in the bumper car rink, you notice the power box and turn it on.

“Let's do it” You smiled.

You and Astrid go to the rink and pick a different bumper car. You are surprised it started to move then she bumped into you, then she started to giggle. You and Astrid are just driving around and bumping into each other.

You and Astrid leave the rink and walk around again. Then she dragged you toward the games then she got behind the counter. You watched her set up the metal-rusted cans into a small pyramid.

“Throw the ball and see if you can a prize,” Astrid said.

“I don't think I would want those dirty plush,” You said.

She grabbed the balls from the ground and gave it to you.

“Just throw, Y/N” Astrid smiled

She moves to the side and she watches you throw the balls. You did knock the cans down

“What did I win? Please don't say those dirty plush” You said.

She went towards you, grabbed your shirt, and kissed you on the lips.

“I like this prize” you smiled.

“Me too” Astrid smiled.

You kiss her back and she doesn't stop smiling. You and Astrid start to walk around again, then you follow her to the carousel.

“Do you think it will work?” Astrid asked.

“I don't think so, it hasn't worked over ten years,” You said.

“I think we should find out,” Astrid said.

“Okay,” You said.

While looking around, you saw the power switch. The carousel started to move and turn around for a few seconds then it stopped.

“I’m surprised it worked for a few seconds,” You said.

“I did wish it kept working, it would have been more fun,” Astrid said.

You have your hand on the horse of the carousel. At first, you didn't notice the spider going on your hand now you noticed it, your eyes opened wide.

“Y/N don't scream,” Astrid said.

“I hate spiders” Your voice cracked.

You were about to shake your hand but she was quick enough to get the spider away from your hand. You started to shake your hand and she started to pet the spider. You moved away from her and she started to giggle.

“Y/N, pet it” Astrid smiled.

“No!” You stated.

“Y/N, don't be a baby. Pet the spider, see it won't bite” Astrid said.

She likes bugs and she knows that you hate every single type of bug. She told you before that some bugs are harmless but you don't care. She kept walking towards you but you moved away from her then she laughed.

“Astrid Deetz stop it,” You said.

“Wow, full name. Such a baby, Y/N” Astrid giggled.

You kept moving away from her and she petted the spider. She gently put the spider on the ground and she walked towards you. She did catch up to you and grabbed your hand and she is still smiling.

“You don't have to be scared anymore,” Astrid said.

“Gross you touched a spider” You teased.

“Whatever, Y/N” Astrid smiled.

You and Astrid kept exploring the amusement park. You and Astrid noticed the fireworks then you helped her climb to the roof of the funhouse. She sits next to you and she wraps her arm around your arm.

“I had fun tonight, Y/N,” Astrid said.

“Me too. First time doing this with anyone glad it was with you” You said.

“I feel the same way,” Astrid said.

You and Astrid looked at each other, then she kissed you on the lips. Then you and Astrid continued to watch the fireworks together.

[esamastation]

Part thirty-four of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three

-

Sephiroth feels a little better after an evening of meditation and a full night of sleep. Things look a little better in the light of day, and though the question of what the fuck he'd going to do about the war is still there, it has been put off. In favour of monster hunting!

"You seem… excited?" Angeal comments as they prepare to go.

He is! "Mn," Sephiroth answers, and carefully doesn't bounce with eagerness.

Even if the monsters of Final Fantasy can't hold a candle to the convoluted, messy and lazily put together nature of the monsters in PIDW, they're still interesting! Especially since he isn't sure what they actually are and how they work. Advent Children and Crisis Core really make it so unclear, because, like, everything turned into energy sparkles when it died? And he thinks in the movie one of the Sephiroth copies - weird to think about them now - summoned some monsters with magic? And then there was Zack in Crisis Core. Who turned into sparkles when he died!

Not everything can just disappear into energy, right, you need living things dying and rotting and composting to make up soil and stuff! If plants just disappear when they die, what do people eat, what were all these buildings made from? Plus he distinctly remembers coal being a thing in this setting, there was a whole town that got shafted because of it and everything, so fossil fuels exist, therefore stuff must leave behind physical remains! Except when it doesn't?

So! Is death like instant ascending here? Or like it descending, since all energy returns to the Planet? Sephiroth is pretty sure that Aerith left behind a body, and there were definitely corpses in the original game - but again, in the prequel it was really unclear. Enemies in combat disappeared, but cutscene death left a body. Except when it didn't!

Ah, the limitations of technology.

Still, he's interested in seeing how the creatures would look and feel and compare them to those he knows from PIDW. Final Fantasy VII had some really weird monsters, and he has a bet going with himself about how much they resemble awakened beasts or yaoguai. 

Angeal looks at him and then smiles, hoisting the Buster Sword to his back. "Ready to go, then?"

"Ready," Sephiroth agrees.

"We're going to have to talk to the Colonel first, but don't worry - I'll handle the talking," Angeal says. "He's an… old-fashioned soldier." 

Sephiroth arches a brow. It sounds like a warning. "Which means…?"

"He doesn't like SOLDIER, he thinks we're stuck up and get our abilities handed to us, we don't deserve our reputation, the usual stuff," Angeal shrugs. "Just ignore it and let me handle it."

"... If you say so."

They head outside together, and Sephiroth takes a moment to look around and try to be an objective observer. This place isn't really anything like the towns back home, in PIDW - the aesthetics are mixed, and though they're more like home than Midgar was, it's as if the place was squeezed through a funhouse mirror. It's just a little off.

And of course, there are no locals anywhere to be seen for a full comparison - just Shinra troops, infantry men and SOLDIERs. Who, the moment they notice him and Angeal, stop to stare and point and whisper.

Has the… incident in Midgar already spread this far, or is this really what it's like being Sephiroth all the time?

Depressing.

"Here," Angeal says and leads him to another house, apparently being used by the Colonel. "Remember, let me do the talking. You just stand there and look imposing, okay?"

Sephiroth snorts. "I think I can manage that."

The Colonel didn't look happy to see them, but then, he doesn't look like a man that's ever really happy. He sizes Sephiroth up and then scoffs. "It's about time. I don't know what kind of discipline you SOLDIER Firsts enjoy in Midgar, but this is a war front, sir, there are rules here."

Does that mean Sephiroth isn't a General then? 

"Right, you're right, of course, sir," Angeal says placatingly. "Well, we're here now, and we already have missions lined up, so -"

The Colonel ignores him and comes around his desk and to Sephiroth's face. "You've been in and out of Wutai for most of this war, isn't that correct, SOLDIER?"

Sephiroth blinks at the man, slowly. "I suppose so." Behind the Colonel Angeal looks panicked.

"What was that?" The Colonel asks dangerously, narrowing his eyes. "You suppose so?"

Sephiroth narrows his eyes back.

The Colonel continues. "When talking to an officer of superior rank, you answer yes sir, or no sir. You do not suppose! Now, do you have experience in the war or not, SOLDIER?!"

Oh, someone is feeling very insecure in their boots, aren't they?

Now, Sephiroth could handle this with all the tact and delicacy of Shen Qingqiu… but even Shen Qingqiu wouldn't have swallowed that kind of spiel without biting. The original definitely wouldn't have! And Sephiroth is supposed to be a villain… well.

Sephiroth smiles - the Colonel recoils.

Last night he'd reread everything there was on his phone about Wutai, going through all his missions again, trying to get as much intelligence as he could. Funny, the things the tutorial left out. 

"I'm sorry," Sephiroth says sweetly. "Who are you?"

The Colonel goes a little red. "Excuse me, SOLDIER?"

"You're barking at me as though at a private, expecting me to go yes sir and no sir," Sephiroth says mockingly. "And yet I have no clue as to who you even are."

Behind the Colonel Angeal gapes and then lifts a pleading look to the ceiling.

The Colonel sputters. "You, you - How dare -"

Ah, you gotta love zero IQ bullies.

"I was given a whole slew of missions and orders," Sephiroth says softly. "All are very vital and high priority. I'm to slay monsters that have killed your men, I'm to hunt down spies you've clearly failed to find, I'm to clear a guard station you haven't been able to get near, I'm to weaken a fortress you cannot even touch, and ten other things besides. All my mission files are very clear. And you know what they all have in common?"

He leans a little closer to the Colonel - right in his purple face. "Not a single one of them mentions you."

Then, before the Colonel can recover, Sephiroth turns on his heel with an imaginary mike drop and saunters out, feeling a whole lot better about everything. The sun is shining, the troopers are scattering at the mere sight of him, and the air is fresh and sweet with natural Qi.

Already this day is looking up.

Angeal, clearly deciding that evasion was the better part of valour, hurries after him. "We're going to pay for that later, you know," he says, sounding defeated.

Of that Sephiroth doesn't have any doubts. What good is a one-time bully? There'd either be a horrifying scene of comeuppance to bring home the realities of war, or a heartfelt discovery and understanding about how they're not so different after all, or whatever else. 

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it," Sephiroth says cheerfully. "Now. I was promised monsters."

Angeal sighs, glancing back at the house commandeered by the Colonel. "... I guess we better clear out anyway. Alright," he motions. "Right this way to the monsters."

Sephiroth grins at his bitchy tone, and together they head out.

-

SY can have a petty bully scene, as a treat.

[yakool-foolio]

gundham for the ask game?? i lov him

GUNDHAM GODDAMN TANAKA MY FIRST LOVE IN DANGANRONPA

Favorite thing about him: His dialect is sososo fun and interesting to analyze. I think he's the main reason I became so obsessed with analyzing and making up my own canon compliant dialect for Vivia. Gundham sparked that fire of dissecting metaphors n analogies and translating them to better understand his behavior and how he conveys his thoughts and feelings through speech. It's incredibly entertaining to write for him, so much so that about two years ago I made my own ask blog for him being in Dead By Daylight's universe. Gotta combine the brainrots of the time somehow.

Least favorite thing about him: Out of all the members of the Ultimate Despair, Gundham feels the least likely to ever end up on their side. It has just never sat right with me that he would fall into despair that easily in the anime, especially since he fought so hard against it in the game. I understand that Chiaki meant a lot to her classmates, but her death doesn't feel like the straw that should break the camel's back for Gundham, notably because he's the one who will literally fight to the death to revive everyone else's morale. The anime is a guilty pleasure of mine, but I refuse to believe that he'd give in to despair that easy. I like his Ultimate Despair design though, it's rad. Too bad we only get to see it once.

Favorite line: He has soooooooooo many iconic and fantastic lines it's not fair to choose one, but I will restrain myself just this once. "Because I, the one who has claimed dominion over evil, am the Ultimate Weapon! I am he who cuts the insolent catalyst which flows out from the chaos with the sword of victory… It's only fitting that I deserve to be called the Ultimate Weapon…!" The fact that he called himself the Ultimate Weapon because he utilized the funhouse's secret after he discovered it in order to kill Nekomaru HURTS REAL BAD. He planted hints to him being the culprit throughout the entire trial because it was never his intent to get away with his murder at all, especially since he fully expected to be the victim himself. He and Nekomaru sacrificed themselves so that the others could live on. I cry.

BROTP: Gundham and Gonta are such a sweet duo in UTDP and Summer, they deserve so many more interactions. They get to exchange their love of all different types of animals with each other until they're walking National Geographic magazines.

OTP: SONDAM! They match each other's dorkiness to a T. Autumn is their season and nobody can take it away from them. Horror movie dates are always a pleasure. They're obnoxious talkers in the theaters, but I'd let them ramble to their heart's content.

NOTP: I'm the type of person who's chill with a lotta different pairings if the shipper(s) make it work. However, one pair I can never imagine being romantically involved is Gundham and Hiyoko. He doesn't give two shits about her bullying him for his eccentrics, but he definitely greatly disapproves of her abuse toward animals. She's trying to better herself post-game, but it'll definitely take a while for her misdeeds to be forgiven by Gundham and they can work toward being on friendly terms.

Random headcanon: Due to isolating himself from others, Gundham never really took the time to question his romantic orientation. That is, until he was accepted into Hope's Peak Academy and was surrounded by other students. He swiftly came to terms with his romantics towards certain people, as sparse as he shows it. Nekomaru and Sonia definitely pushed those unknown feelings into deeper consideration, as he admittedly crushed on both of them at some point and has ultimately fallen for Sonia. He fights with himself every now and then over his feelings, but overall he views his orientation as simply natural, unchanged by time. In regards to his asexuality, he occasionally makes comments to conceal his distaste for raunchy things and attempt to fit in, pushed into doing so by his insecurities, but he recognizes its his true nature to abstain from such desires. Intimacy is romantic for him, and that's all that it has to be for him to be happy.

Unpopular opinion: I have no idea if any of my thoughts could really be classified as unpopular, but I'll toss something unusual out. Connecting to what I've stated earlier, I wish Gundham was shown fighting back more against the brainwashing in the anime. If they had the time, it'd be interesting to see the absolute extremes Junko would have to go through to crush Gundham's unwavering spirit. We could get real dark by having his mom killed in front of him. This forces him to accept that without her, only nature is on his side now, as humanity is beyond saving and what he's committing as an Ultimate Despair is a mercy killing.

Song(s) I associate with him: Kyrie by Mr. Mister cause the angelic imagery makes me sob profusely aughhhh... Eighth Wonder by Lemon Demon and When You Die by MGMT are runner-ups!

Favorite picture of him: This art piece I was gifted as part of a Silent Hill Tumblr Mutuals discord server's Secret Santa, featuring Gundham n Carmina/The Artist from Dead By Daylight, who I made ask blogs for and so deeply love imagining being the bestest of buds!

[safarigirlsp]

  ✨ SUMMERWEEN ✨

🔮🐈‍⬛ 😈 & 😈🐈‍⬛🔮

✨ BABBUSHKA’S ✨ 10 YEAR BLOGIVERSARY

🔮🐈‍⬛ 😈 & 😈🐈‍⬛🔮

✨ SAFARIGIRLSP’S ✨ ✨ BIRTHDAY BASH ✨

August is my birthday month, and anyone who's been here long knows Halloween is my favorite time of the year! I also just finished a big 200k plus story and want a little break before starting the next big thing. And on top of that, it’s my wonderful friend Babbushka’s 10 year blogiversary! So, we’re going to celebrate in our favorite ways — by writing spooky stories and tormenting our favorite characters!

REQUESTS ARE NOW OPEN for anything spooky or related to SUMMERWEEN! Please read this entire post for complete information, and if you're new, please take a look at my Masterlist. And see Babbushka’s Masterlist for all of her stories and guidelines.

We’re inviting everyone to celebrate with us! Readers and Writers alike!

All Readers: Please send us requests, ideas, thoughts, HCs, anything you like! And as many as you like! I’ll pick our favorites or, very likely, a combination of a few different ideas, and write a oneshot that includes everything I can fit in. Feel free to send in multiple ideas or requests! The more ideas to choose from, the better! All AU concepts, time periods, etc are welcome. Anything is fair game.

All Writers: Please feel free to repost, steal any prompts, write anything, and do your own thing with all of this! I'd love to be tagged in any content pertaining to Adam characters or anything related to Spencer from 1923.

I’m only writing for Mills, Flip, and Jacques for big oneshots. If any new followers have a Spencer request, I would write for him too. I will do HC’s for anyone I have ever written for.

I have a strong preference for horror, action, adventure, and AU's.

My stories generally range in size from 5k to 25k, and some are even more! Look for a mix of horror, humor, romance, and adventure! Everything will contain adult themes and mature content. My masterlist has more detail on what I like and don't like, but one of my few hard no's are ships of any kind.

Requests will be open for one week, from July 26 - August 2. However, because I tend to write longer stories, the sooner an idea comes in, the more likely I am to use it.

This is an Adults Only event. My content is not for minors, or people who are easily triggered or offended. I write mature content intended for a mature audience only. All my content is buyer beware for wholesale offense and toxicity.

Keep reading for prompts!

Prompts

𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺

* 001.    the seaside ,  as the sun is setting .

* 002.    a cabin in the middle of the woods .

* 003.    a home with a white picket fence .

* 004.    a dark bus stop lit only by street lights .

* 005.    a dive bar .

* 006.    a funhouse’s room of mirrors .

* 007.    an office building ,  bustling and busy .

* 008.    the back row of an empty movie theater .

* 009.    a rundown motel room .

* 010.    a loud house party on a suburban street .

* 011.    a university lecture hall during a class .

* 012.    the rooftop of a very tall building .

* 013.    a great ballroom during an elegant party .

* 014.    a natural history museum .

* 015.    the wine cellar of a large mansion .

* 016.    an old school gym .

* 017.    a boisterous bonfire at the lakeside .

* 018.    an otherwise empty parking lot .

* 019.    a neon club filled with throbbing music .

* 020.    the grounds of an empty summer camp .

* 021.    a large hedge maze ,  easy to get lost in .

* 022.    a derelict treehouse .

* 023.    a spacious ,  light-filled meadow .

* 024.    an underground illegal fighting club .

* 025.    an abandoned mansion .

* 026.    a cabinet of curiosities .

* 027.    an apple orchard in the middle of spring .

* 028.    an empty playground with squeaky swings .

* 029.    an extravagant greenhouse .

* 030.    the base of a large waterfall .

* 031.    a spacious walk - in closet full of lovely clothes .

* 032.    an attic or basement filled with forgotten things .

* 033.    the dark depths of an abandoned mine .

* 034.    the deck of a fishing boat at night .

* 035.    at home during a power outage .

* 036.    a long ,  winding road .

* 037.    the scene of a violent crime .

* 038.    a fork in a hiking trail deep in the wilderness .

* 039.    a porch on a stormy evening .

* 040.    a dusty antiques shop full of relics .

* 041.    the street of an unfamiliar city at night .

* 042.    between the tall shelves of a rare book shop .

* 043.    an abandoned asylum .

* 044.    a brewery or winery .

* 045.    a mysterious trail found in the woods .

* 046.    a stable of horses .

* 047.    a county fair at night .

* 048.    a rodeo .

* 049.    a garden bountiful with flowers or produce .

* 050.    a childhood home or bedroom .

* 051.    the site of a horrible accident or crime .

* 052.    a closed pool ,  after everyone has left .

* 053.    a home holding horrific memories .

* 054.    a drive in movie theater .

* 055.    a double-booked air b&b .

* 056.    a police station in the middle of the night .

* 057.    a violent storm warning .

* 058.    a lavish ,   invite - only party .

* 059.    a public transit stop as rain is pouring down .

* 060.    a cabin in the woods .

* 061.    the underworld .

* 062.    a dusty ,   forgotten attic .

* 063.    on the set of a television show or movie .

* 064.    a lighthouse overlooking the raging sea .

* 065.    in an archaeological site.

* 066.    on a ship hundreds of miles from the nearest coast .

* 067.    a place from a dream or a memory .

* 068.    a tent pitched in the middle of the woods .

* 069.    ancient ruins .

* 070.    the morgue during an identification .

* 071.    an otherwise empty library during a late research session .

* 072.    a place that feels familiar ,  yet you've never been here before .

* 073.    a long hallway that seems to stretch on forever .

* 074.    a signpost at the start of a hiking trail .

* 075.    a bar or tavern bustling with life .

* 076.    the dance floor of a masquerade ball .

* 077.    inside of a car parked in a secluded area .

* 078.    at the edge of a cliff overlooking a large lake .

* 079.    inside a very old house with very old haunts .

* 080.    inside a courtroom .

* 081 past the warning signs .

* 082 around a bonfire or campfire .

* 083 here there be monsters .

* 084 high on a mountainside .

* 085 inside a trendy coffeeshop or bookshop .

* 086 on a road trip .

* 087 at a writer’s retreat .

* 088 under the stars .

* 089 a swanky restaurant .

* 090 on safari .

* 091 a picturesque beach .

* 092 a quaint village abroad .

* 093 in the fall foliage .

* 094 a crystalline winter dawn .

* 095 an expedition into the unknown .

* 096 a treasure hunt .

* 097 following a mysterious map .

* 098 off the map .

* 099 lost .

* 100 exactly where you were always meant to be .

 

 Dark Academia Writing Prompts

1. A history major begins to unravel a murder that happened 100 years ago on campus.

2 A witch disguises herself as a professor in the occult studies department.

3. A group of history students uncover evidence of a witch trial that took place on campus centuries ago.

4. A journalist investigates a series of murders inspired by works of literature.

5. The study of an artifact leads to mayhem when an ancient evil is brought into the modern world.

 

 

Situational Prompts

1.        Leaves crunching under your boots. 

2.        Morning air just a bit colder than expected. 

3.        The smell of warm cider in a mug. 

4.        Baking cinnamon muffins

5.        Pumpkin spice

6.        The harvest moon 

7.        Going to a haunted house

8.   Black cats crossing your path

9.   Heat of a fireplace on a cold night

10.      Crumbling tombstones

11.      Twigs snapping on the forest floor

12.      Trick-or-treating

13.      The call of an owl 

14.      Costume party

15.      Scary movie night

16.  Ghost stories

17.  Apple orchard

18.  A Victorian mansion

19.       Scratching at the door 

20.      Howling at the moon

21.       Eyes in the trees 

22.      Whispers from the shadows

23.      Murder of crows gathered outside

24.      Something’s under the bed 

25.      Fog rolling on an open field

26.      The only headlights on miles of open road

27.       Footsteps coming up quickly from behind

28.      A bathroom mirror in the dark

29.      Growls down the hall

30.      Wrought iron gates

31.      Friday the 13th

32.      A scream in the night 

33.      Blood washing down the shower drain

34.      Hot wax dripping on pentagrams

35.      Lightning over a castle 

36.      Torn stitches

🏤 Stepping into a house that gives off all the wrong vibes

🍁 A crisp autumn evening, the smell of leaves and smoke on the air

🎹 Nighttime in an ancient house/manor, with the tinkling of piano keys from the next room

💧 Rain in the early morning, so dark that there’s hardly a sunrise

⛪ A church right after a funeral, a small handful of people dressed in black hanging their heads in silence

🌳 A foreboding forest at dusk as the sun disappears

⛵ On the beach before dawn as remnants of a shipwreck wash onto shore

🍂 A chilly, overcast autumn afternoon

🌃 Midnight in a busy city, sirens blaring a few blocks away

🎃 After dark on Halloween night after trick-or-treating ends

🚘 Driving down a long, dark stretch of road after taking a wrong turn

⚡ Distant thunder from a massive storm headed straight this way

🥀 An overgrown garden of nothing but poisonous plants

🌾 An eerie plot of farmland with seemingly no one around for miles

🐊 Murky swampland with posted warnings to keep people away

🔥 A roaring bonfire in the distance on a pitch-black night, with dark silhouettes crowded or dancing around it

🚧 Standing near old, abandoned train tracks when the bell starts to ring

🐟 Taking a swim on an uninhabited plot of beach, noticing ripples in the water

🌿 An old-fashioned plantation with secretive locals and a bitter history

💀 A cemetery full of dead, dry flowers as if all of the plots have been forgotten, some of the stones cracked or sinking into the dirt

🚇 A dingy old subway station, walls chipped to pieces, while waiting for a ride home

🌈 The sad silence after a violent storm, debris and wreckage everywhere

👗 An attic full of musty clothes and antiques belonging to someone long-dead

❄ A snowstorm locking everyone in their homes, with electricity flickering

🌲 An enchanting plot of forest or stream, tiny whispers cutting the silence

🌑 Inside of a re-occurring nightmare had time and time again

☔ A rainy afternoon, running nefarious errands

☕ At a quiet cafe, but unfamiliar folk are whispering and staring

🌵 A winding road through the desert with only one dingy hotel, its ‘vacancy’ light flickering red

💤 Dreaming of scraping nails against the window glass, and waking to still hear it

🐺 A quiet night, the only sound being the call of coyotes/wolves in the woods

🗿 An archaeological site

🏔️ Deep in the mountains

🐆 On safari

🔮 A fortune teller who knows too much

🐈‍⬛ Magic, that's practical

👻 A mansion with a haunted history

👹 A museum at night

 🕯 A seance

🍿 Scary movie night

🔪 The killer is here

😱 Spooky slumber party games (Bloody Mary, the Midnight Game, etc…)

☠ A cemetery or catacombs

⌛ An antique store

🏠 At home by the fireside

🍷 Go to a winery/brewery or cider factory

⛺ Rent a cabin for the weekend

🏰 A spooky vacation spot 

😈 A cryptid encounter

(here are the same prompts on stupid backgrounds because I felt like making them)

Tagging some witches who may interested!

@babbushka @mrs-gucci @mrs-zimmerman @iamburdened @gabesprincess @maybe-your-left @candycanes19 @rynwritesstuff @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @queeniebee @lumberjack00fantasies @mythrielofsolitude @icarusinthesea @ghoulian13 @reyloaddict55 @fizzywoohoo @heartlight-starlight @richbrittstein @clydesfavoritegirl @bensolodyad @thepalaceofmelanie @celiholland @reveluving @vedavan @queen-of-elves @srorgana1 @reylokisses @vixenofcourse @kylofrk @looking4mymagicshop @diejager

All edits by the amazing @kyloremus

[m-y-fandoms]

(NEW!) Super Danganronpa 2 boys reaction to: their S/O thinking they were going to hurt them - COMMISSION

You feral beasts have been asking for this for like two years LMAO. Someone finally commissioned me to do it so let's get it!

V3 boys version link

The reader's pronouns are never mentioned, so anyone can read this with themselves in mind!

Word Count:  13k words!! 4.8k of those words are Nagito's section alone, as the commissioner requested for Nagito's to be longer than the rest (Please show this some love my hands hurt)

Trope/Scenario: A couple is in an argument or stressful situation. One partner moves suddenly, maybe to ruffle their hair or wipe sweat from their face, maybe grab something or gesture as they yell, but their S/O cowers/flinches at the sudden movement, and braces themselves or cries out, thinking their partner was about to hit/hurt them. Then, the angst ends in fluff with the other partner expressing that they would never hurt their beloved. I will make variations to this base concept to spice up the piece and fit the characters because we DON'T do O.O.C. here!

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR ALL OF SDR2/SDR2 CONTEXT NEEDED TO UNDERSTAND SOME SECTIONS - additionally, SFW sexual content-wise, but mature themes are explored like explicit language, possessiveness, abuse, and unhealthy relationships. Remember, the games themselves are rated M.

Nagito Komaeda

It all happened so fast. You’d begged them not to do it. It didn’t need to go down that way. This never would’ve happened if they’d just listened to you.

It all happened so fast. One second your friends, your best and only friends, were piling onto your boyfriend, pinning him to the ground of the hotel lobby and the next, the world became an explosion of fiery red. A loud blast rang in your ears like a flash bomb or a gunshot fired off right beside your head without protective equipment. Kazuichi went flying, the back of Akane’s clothes were aflame. Fuyuhiko took on an expression you’d never thought you’d see from the resident tough guy of the group: eyes wide in genuine terror, mouth agape as he dove forward and away from the blast.

You begged them not to do this. Don’t corner him. Don’t force his hand. You knew him better than anyone else. And they didn’t listen to you.

You’d all grouped up before hand (minus Nagito of course) to discuss what to do about him. He was getting more and more unhinged as the days went on. Before the funhouse, everyone except for you saw him as a bit crazy, a nuisance, a freak but safe at a distance. Now… he was clearly a danger to himself and others. He knew something you all didn’t, and it was sending him into the self righteous hope power trip of the century. Something was so very different from the Nagito you knew and loved.

You’d warned them that it wouldn’t be like last time. He wouldn’t submissively let them tie him up in the old building and wait to be fed or released by Monomi. He was on the warpath now. You knew him. Once he got an idea in his head, that was it.

Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi had dismissed you immediately. You loved him. You’d do anything to protect that freak. They weren’t gonna heed your warning, because at the end of the day, you cared about him just a little more than you cared about the rest of them. Hajime and Sonia, even Chiaki - the more compassionate members of the group - had looked at you with pity in their eyes. They knew the last thing you wanted was to see your boyfriend tied up or hurt, and they felt for you, but at this point, the main focus had to be figuring out who put them on this island so they could escape, and preventing more death. Nagito was getting in the way of that. He needed to be restrained.

You never thought it would be like this, though. You knew he’d retaliate this time, that he’d resist, but maybe in the form of a struggle with his attacker: a punch, a kick, running away, hiding… not a fucking bomb.

As the explosion rang out from behind you, sending you leaping forward defensively, the world seemed to move in slow motion.

How could he do this? It’s one thing to fight off those who are actively trying to subdue you, but to blow up the entire hotel? He was really willing to hurt or even kill everyone too close to the blast, even those with little to nothing to do with the plan? What about you, who he claimed to love, who was his shining hope, who had been the only one in his corner at all times? He was willing to just blow you away as well?

Time sped up again, and you sat with your legs crossed in the rubble, ash and sweat smearing your skin. You just sat there, breaths hitching in your throat as you held back tears that threatened to fall. It felt like you were in a trance as you sat and thought this all over. Nevermind the flames at your back or smoke in the air. Why, why, why???

It wasn’t the little bit of blood running down your arm or the ringing in your ears that broke through your haze, but the clap of a hand on your shoulder blade. You turned and looked up at Hajime, dust in his hair and a cut on his cheek. The white uniform shirt he always wore was stained up and torn in one area.

“Hey, (Y-Y/N)!” He coughed, soot in his throat. “Are you alright? Come on, we gotta get out of here! Smoke’s not-” a beam collapsed behind him, startling him as he hooked his hands under your armpits and lifted you from your seated position. “Come on, this smoke’ll kill you!” You stood with his help, still halfway in a state of shock, and in truth embarrassment that the one you constantly defended from your group of peers had done all this…

“Is everyone…” you spoke weakly, your mind flashing to the safety of your friends.

“Everyone else is out. They’re safe, let’s go!” Hajime guided you out the way he came in looking for you, past a flipped couch and under a fallen beam. Once out in the fresh air, you regrouped with the rest, all in various states of shaken up.

Sonia immediately rushed over to you, ripping the red bow tie from her neck and dabbing the cut on your arm with the fabric before wrapping it around the wound. You thanked her with a nod. Akane, usually a bit scantily-clad anyway, had most of her remaining clothes singed off or torn. She looked more defeated then you’d seen her since Nekomaru’s death. She’d probably bounce right back soon though, knowing her. Fuyuhiko looked more pissed than usual, sitting by the pool alone. Kazuichi was being tended to by Chiaki. You overheard her saying Monomi would be bringing medical supplies and helping transport those seriously injured to the hospital for a quick check up. The students protested, however, wanting to stick together in the resort and heal up in their cabins. Your eyes bounced around the group, looking for someone in particular, though you didn’t know why.

Why? Were you truly that delusional? You must’ve been under some type of love hex. Had you Stockholm Syndrome’d yourself into being blind to his every fault? You couldn’t help it - you couldn’t deny the feelings you retained.

“Where’s…?” Your words faded off, thinking better of it. Maybe this was the wrong time. They probably didn’t want to hear about the dude who just tried to send them on a one way trip to heaven. It was too late, your words had been picked up by Fuyuhiko’s relatively undamaged ears.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He scoffed, yelling over from the pool. “He ran off as soon as he got the chance. Didn’t waste a second to make sure you were okay. You’re still worried about that asshole? He just tried to fucking kill us! You must be as crazy as him. I’m starting to think so, at this point…” 

“Fuyuhiko…” Sonia warned, a small frown creasing her porcelain face. Fuyuhiko sighed deeply, backing off the attack. He didn’t mean that last bit, he was just frustrated. He threw in the towel, too tired to continue putting up a fight. The old Fuyuhiko would've laid into you a little longer. True to his word, he was a changed man. He shook his head and went silent, disappointed in you to say the least.

You were a bit disappointed in yourself as well, frankly. Why did you still want to see him so badly, to make sure he wasn’t hurt, to make sure he knew you still cared? You didn’t know what you’d even do if you saw him again. The mix of fear, confusion and foolish adoration was potent within you right now.

After assessing everyone’s needs and injuries, it was decided that you all were to go to your cabins and rest for the night. Tomorrow, you would go as a group to the new island unguarded by its Monobeast and resume the search for the truth and freedom.

“Everyone just… yell as loud as you can, or run out of your cabin and alert the others if… if anything happens,” He looked you in the eyes as he spoke those last few words. Hajime chose the phrasing carefully but you all knew what he meant:

If Nagito came around looking to further this deranged and deadly plan of his. 

They said as he ran off he was blabbering on, yelling about the “end of Jabberwock Island” and such. It was pretty clear to the entire group that whatever he had in mind would mean chaos and peril for everyone still left alive.

~

Now back in your cabin, the sun had long since set as you continued to pace back and forth across the floor, from the full length mirror on your sliding closet door, to the entrance, then over to the small bathroom area and back again. You’d not even taken the time to shower and change your clothes. You were still a mess, your thoughts too busy to care about the blood and grime coating you.

Your mind raced, taking in everything that had happened so far in this nightmare of a class trip, taking in everything that could happen fairly soon. 

Your mind bounced to Nagito, purposely being coy when you all needed his mind desperately during trials. 

To Nagito, who actively tried to hurt someone in the very first trial, who offered to help a blackened if they ever needed him.

To Nagito, who held you close at nights and who you could open up to for hours. The same Nagito who you’d fallen for, body and mind, and who now was an object of fear and anxiety for you.

Were you really scared of him now…? Your Nagito?

A quiet knock at your door shook you out of your pacing routine. You figured it was Hajime, arranging another group meeting or maybe sweet Sonia coming to check up on you. Rushing to the door, you opened it just a crack and peeked out.

Your blood ran cold, a shiver shot down your spine. You’d never reacted to seeing him like this before. Not even close.

“Hello there, (Y/N). Oh wow, you look awful…” Nagito smiled gently at first, then the corners of his mouth slightly drooped, downturned at the state of you. You looked yourself up and down once quickly, now acknowledging that you had in fact forgotten to wash up, overwhelmed by the day. A moment passed with your heart beat picking up quickly, and you began to merely stare at him silently through the crack, unsure of how to proceed. Should you scream? Should you warn the others? Even if Nagito wouldn’t hurt you, what if he made his rounds to the other cabins and hurt the others? He wouldn’t hurt you, right? That assumption of yours was correct, right? You weren’t so sure anymore. “Well, are you gonna just stand there or are you gonna let me in?” He smiled innocently again before pushing his way past you and into the expanse of your personalized cabin. Your safe space.

“Nagito…” You let yourself exhale the breath you’d been holding in, turning to close the cabin door behind him. You hesitated on the door knob, contemplating making a break for it right then and there. “What are you doing here?” You tried to keep your voice steady and even, even as your chest thumped.

“What?” His brow furrowed, rounding on you as you closed shut the door and turned to face him. “What do you mean? I always hang out with you here!” Was he just not going to acknowledge today, when you literally could’ve died due to his actions? “I kinda missed it, you know, the smell of your cabin, your smell. Being in the funhouse all those days was such a bummer.” Approaching you in two strides of his long slender legs, he took you tightly into his arms, nevermind the dirt and ash that transferred from your clothes to his.

“N-Nagi-” your words were muffled into the fabric of his green jacket, and for a moment your spine stiffened, not sure how to receive the hug. You corrected yourself though, and relaxed, embracing him back. Nagito was volatile right now, extremely unstable, and you didn’t want to be perceived as disloyal, untrusting. Nothing to trigger him. He was clingy and needy with you quite often and that part you didn’t mind. You cared for him the way he was… but who he was had slowly been changing. Ever since he entered that damned Final Dead Room.

Nagito didn’t miss a thing, however, and you knew that. Your hesitation to hug him back made a blip on his radar.

“Is everything alright? How is my little ray of hope tonight?” He pulled back a bit, holding you at arm’s length to observe your features closely. This was so uncomfortable: the scrutinizing gaze, the sorry state of your body at that very moment, the sweat that began to bead on your forehead.

“Well, Nagito, you…” you wanted to soften the blow, and so took the initiative to this time hug him first, leaning your head onto his chest. This is what he wanted, right? Play along, don’t slip up. It’s funny, when your head rested flat against him and you inhaled his familiar scent, you felt that warm feeling that made you fall for him for just a second, until you began to finish your thought. “... today… earlier today… why did you do that? I mean… how could you, to me of all people? What if… I mean what if that explosion killed me?” Your heart beat sped up.

“Oh, silly, it wouldn’t have!” He replied as if the answer were obvious. “You’re my shining hope, my everything, and that bomb was only intended to disrupt the plans of those who were there to trap me! I was one step ahead my love. You were never in any true danger.” Ironic, as he ran a hand up and down the arm with the deep cut on it.

“Well, how would you know for sure? What if I were standing where Kazuichi was? He got the brunt of it…” you asked, but you knew whatever answer he had for you wouldn’t calm your aching heart.

“I relied on my luck, of course! It’s all I have to rely on now: you, and this useless ‘talent’ of mine.” His tone was bittersweet. His luck? He really left your safety up to his luck? Sure, you’d never seen it fail him before, but seriously…

“About that… Nagito,” you pulled away, expectantly unsatisfied with his reply and no less terrified of the inner workings of the man in front of you, “what’s made you feel this way, all of a sudden? Sure, our classmates were a little wary of you, but we were friends, all of us. You had them, too. What changed? In the funhouse you - well ever since the Final Dead Room, you’ve changed. In the trial, you said you’d learned about Hajime and how he doesn’t have an ultimate talent, and the secret behind the funhouse’s design… but there’s more you aren’t telling us… I can feel it.” Walking over to a chair beside your bed, you sat down, wrapping your arms around your middle defensively. You felt small and vulnerable under his gaze, which followed you like a hawk.

He didn’t like hearing that - that he’d changed - not from you. You were the only one exempt from his plans, even if you didn’t know it at the time. He loved you and you loved him, and he didn’t want anything to change about that. This couldn’t be just another thing that his miserable life ruined for him. For now, he ignored it, deciding that maybe letting you, the only one he could truly trust, in on his little plan would ease your mind and bring you back to him whole.

“You’re right as usual, my love.” He stood in the center of the room, gesturing as he began to get off of his chest all that he’d gleaned from his time in the funhouse. “How perceptive of you. My little hope is so incredibly smart. It’s one of the reasons I know you’ll guide this useless pack of idiots, including myself, to the highest potential our negligible little lives could ever reach!” How could you have guessed at that time that he meant when he and all the rest he deemed unfit were long gone, wiped from this world by his own will? “I’ll let you in on it, if my little bird promises not to chirp to the rest of the flock, of course…” He grinned at you as if he were a mischievous little kid about to announce a school prank and not a man dead set on getting his classmates killed. You nodded instinctively, not prepared at all for what you were about to hear. “Well it’s quite simple, really. We’ve known about the existence of a traitor for awhile now, right? We thought this entire time that the one of us who was not like the others was to blame for this entire thing, that the despair that ensnared us and caused death after death was caused by this ‘traitor’, right?” You nodded again, wanting desperately to appease him in any way you could. “Well, we couldn’t have had it more wrong, and as my reward for winning the ultimate roulette in the Final Dead Room, I was allowed this knowledge to share - or not share - as I please.” He was smirking now and your heartbeat began to pick up once again. You did not like that look in his eye. The pale planes of his cheeks began to get rosy with that self-satisifed expression he often donned when he knew his plans for hope were on track.

“W-what do you mean, Nagito?” Your voice shook and you sat up in your chair, shifting uncomfortably in place, a motion he noticed immediately. Again, he didn’t appreciate that reaction from you one bit. Why were you so uneasy around him tonight? His mind couldn’t comprehend it.

“Turns out, this whole time,” he held his arms out to each side as if surrendering himself to the powers that be, “It was us! We were the wicked ones. We were the despair, the disgusting evil that clouded all hope.” He began to chuckle at the irony that only he understood in his words. “This ‘traitor’ is the only one who can stop us! They are meant to save the world from the plague of our very existence!” He began to chuckle, a devious and unstable sound emanating from his core.

“H-how could you mean - I mean… Nagito, how could we be evil? Why would you think that? We have been working together to stop Monokuma this whole time. It couldn’t be -”

“Does it really matter how? It’s the truth! I know it is!” He cut you off, startling you as he approached and sank to his knees in front of your chair. Leaning in, he took your hand in his clammy, translucent one. He kissed the tops of your knuckles sweetly - a gesture he often did when you were alone together - and you went rigid, unsettled by his manic words. Another reaction he frowned at. “I mean, you believe me, don’t you? Have I ever been wrong before? Every time I tell you who the blackened is, I’m right! Every mystery I’ve uncovered on this island, every deduction I’ve shared with you and only you, has been correct! Every time I’ve been ‘wrong’ to them, I’ve chosen to play dumb. I’ve never lied to you, I wouldn’t!” He looked frantic, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. When you didn’t reply, he continued. “The traitor, they are the one, true hope for our vile and corrupted lot!” He smiled, again, as if this were the obvious conclusion one should draw from his words, but you just couldn’t see your friends as the monsters he portrayed them as. You couldn’t even see him that way. It just didn’t make sense. Maybe whatever he read in the Final Dead Room was just more lies, planted by Monokuma as a motive to sow more division. Nagito was too smart to fall for that…

“So, what is the solution, then… your plan?” You were almost too afraid to ask, having a good idea of what it would be. His frenzied grin softened into a straight and very serious line. You felt your stomach twist itself into knots.

“Well… we have to go, of course. All of us, except for the traitor.” He stated plainly. Eyes widening just a tick before going neutral again, you tried not to convey the abject fear in your heart. “We all have to die, it’s the only way. The traitor will go on, as the only ray of hope we have left.” With that, you yanked your hand from his grip, and his eye twitched in response.

He was willing to kill you all? All of your peers, your innocent peers who had been through so much already, together… snuff them out just like that?

“Nagito… you know who the traitor is, then…?” His head tilted at that, like a curious puppy confused at his owner’s words. “The one you’re going to spare, you know who it is?” Did it even matter anymore? At this point, the Nagito you loved was long gone. You needed to warn the others. His answer mattered to you personally, nonetheless. Your brow furrowed, your psyche overstimualted by this entire conversation. You pressed him. “Nagito… you know who the traitor is, right?” A little sterner this time, you waited for an answer that would never come. Almost as if he were too prideful, or maybe too ashamed to admit he would have to rely on his luck yet again to meet his goals, he ignored your question.

Chills running throughout your body, you quickly shot up out of the chair. Standing abruptly and causing the slender man to stumble back a bit, you steadied your shaking hands by balling them into fist at your side.

“(Y/N) -” Nagito began as he stood to meet you. Why were you acting like this? Didn’t you have the same goals as him? Didn’t you see the necessity of this plan? Didn’t you love him as much as he loved you? Didn’t you know that know that you - his unbreakable hope - the only pure thing on this miserable island, had to be the traitor? How could it be anyone else? He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, as the file in the Final Dead Room didn’t name you specifically, but it just had to be you. It had to be. He would delude himself until his last breath.

“O-okay, Nagito, I agree! Yes, y-you’re right of course!” Play along, (Y/N), play along, your survival instincts screamed at you internally. Now it was Nagito’s heart that began to beat fast. He could sense a lie a mile away, and you knew that. Was he truly losing you? “Tell you what, let me shower, I can’t stand this filth on me for one more second.” You forced a nervous chuckle. “After that, I’ll meet you somewhere, um… away from the cabins so the others don’t find out, and we can discuss this further.” In reality, you were hoping that as you showered, he would leave to find a meeting place so that you could run to the other cabins and warn the others. He took a step toward you, and you took a step back in turn. He cringed at that, a hand reaching out weakly for your touch. It fell to his side when you backed away until your back was at the bathroom door and you reached behind you for the handle. “Okay? You go scope out a safe place for us to meet!” You looked for confirmation, fake smile still plastered across your face until your jaw hurt from clenching so hard.

“Okay, (Y/N)...” his heart broke at your willingness to lie straight to his face. You’d never done that before. You would always be honest with him, even with the silliest thoughts. You nodded in reassurance, slipping into the mini bathroom afforded to you by Monokuma and closing the door. It was a modest thing, a small alcove in each cabin with merely a shower stall, sink with a mirror, and toilet all snug into one tiny area. You undressed like the wind, ready to take the quickest shower of your life. Just a rinse for the blood and dirt, running the water long enough to be convincing and you were out. You needed time to run to at least a few of your classmates' cabins before Nagito got back. Whoever you got to first could spread the word. You slid the glass shower stall door open and jumped inside, not even waiting for the water to warm up.

Soaking yourself promptly, you began to scrub off the day you’d had with a small wash cloth nearby. Mere minutes into your shower, you heard the small bathroom door slam open. Freezing instantly, you halted all motion and stared at the figure in the doorway that was a blurry mess of greens, creams and whites through the frosted glass of the shower door. Without a word, the figure approached the shower door and you felt your body go into fight or flight mode, adrenaline kicking into high gear.

This was it… you thought. You were sure that if you were the traitor, you would’ve known. The traitor was still out there, hiding their identity, and now Nagito was going to do exactly what he said he was going to do. You had to go… hope for the world was the end goal that superseded romantic feelings. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you thought of your friends, and how you failed to save them.

Nagito threw open the sliding door, and you fell back against the beige tile behind you, hands flying up to protect your head and face. You didn’t know how he would kill you, but braced for an expected blow. Exposed, defenseless and naked, vital organs unprotected, you began to sob.

“No! Nagito, please!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as he entered the shower stall in a panic, clothes and all. He clapped one cold hand over your mouth, a hand that was shaking. Instantly, tears sprang forth from his own eyes. Were you really that scared of him?

“No, don’t scream, please! Please, (Y/N)!” He released your mouth, throwing his arms around your shoulders in a crushing embrace. The shower head continued to spray down, soaking him now along with you as he clung to you like his life depended on it under its stream. His wild, long locks clung to his neck and forehead and his wet jacket weighed him down. You both stood weeping onto each other freely, Nagito from a broken heart, and you from shock. You were too terrified to move, to care that you were completely nude. He didn’t seem to care either, crushing you in his grip. He was a lot stronger than he looked.

“Nagito… Nagito please…” you pleaded, still not entirely sure these weren’t your last moments.

“I can’t bear to see you terrified of me. You’re… you’re the only one…” He could barely speak through his choked out sobs. He shook his head vehemently, needy for your touch. His hands roamed up and down your back desperately. He needed to feel you there, to know you were real.

“What…?” You didn’t understand.

“You’re the only one,” he sniffled, “who shouldn’t be afraid of me! You’re my shining hope. You’re my light in this darkness!” Tears wracked his body. “Why would a complete and utter nobody like me, talentless trash undeserving of your love ever try to hurt you? I wouldn’t even dream of it. (Y/N), please don’t hate me. I couldn’t bear it!” His finger nails dug into your spine. He was conflicted, and couldn’t fight the swell of anger that contended with the sadness in his chest. It felt like you didn’t know him at all to think he would hurt you. You weren’t the despair he sought to end. You had nothing to fear.

“But, y-you said- !” You began and he interrupted, unable to hear any more doubts of his loyalty to you.

“I know you’re the traitor. I just know it! You’re too good, too perfect to not be…” You’d never heard him so unconfident in his own reasoning before.

“You can’t possibly know that, Nagito!” You spat back, limp in his arms.

“I do know it. I know it. I’ll bet my luck on it. I want it so badly, my luck has to come through. It’s you, it has to be! I could never kill you. I could never get you killed. The others are the despair, you’re the solution. I know it’s you. I’m gonna make it all right… just watch!” He stepped back, taking your puffy face in his hands, staring directly into your eyes. “You’ll make it out of here! You’ll survive the last trial and go on without me, my love. I know it’s you!” He was deceiving himself once again, daring to want something so badly, so selfishly.

He would never live to see just how wrong he was.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

You, your boyfriend Fuyuhiko, and your best friend Peko went way back. As a kid growing up on Fuyuhiko’s side of town, everyone knew to avoid Kuzuryu property. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately looking back at it, you were a pretty reckless as a kid, even if you weren’t now. You used to to slip through fences and past security cameras all the time to play with the blonde fuzzy-haired kid and the girl with the cool sword. Your parents scolded you when you came home, not knowing where you really were, but you always found your way back. The boy, who always had a temper, and the girl, who was the calm to his storm, repeatedly called you names, told you to never come back or his family would kill you, then played with you all day anyway. You had no idea what his family truly was, what the word yakuza really entailed, only that everyone said that part of town was dangerous. You didn’t see it that way, not when you played cops and robbers or samurai and peasant with your two best friends nearly every day. The boy, Fuyuhiko as you’d come to learn, would always rush you off the property if his father was coming home or when less friendly clan members came around, and you didn’t learn until years later why.

By that time it was too late for you to be scared of his yakuza status or Peko’s true strength now revealed to you. You were besties, and nothing was ever going to change that. Through middle school, you formed quite the crush on the petite bad boy, and although he still had a nasty temper and could be quite aloof at times, you wanted him all the same. A lifelong friendship bloomed into a romantic relationship - with hesitance on his part - and before you knew it, you were set to attend Hope’s Peak together. You kept your relationship secret from everyone save for Peko. Fuyuhiko insisted on this, for your own safety.

Now here you were, on this mysterious tropical island with all of your memories of Hope’s Peak wiped clean. You found that in general, many memories of your past were wiped clean, save for those few precious and essential ones. You remembered growing up with Fuyuhiko, your relationship with him, and Peko who you loved like a sister. Everyone else were strangers, strangers who seemingly also couldn’t remember how they got there or how you were all connected. You were all freshmen it seemed, and that was were it stopped.

Almost immediately after Monokuma’s appearance and monologue, Fuyuhiko had pushed both you and Peko away. He demanded you both pretend like you didn’t know him, treat him like everyone else and if need be, you’d meet in secret and away from prying eyes. This was to be a killing game with rules and trials, and no one else here seemed to know each other from their past. If the others found out you three were connected, you would no doubt all be dragged down if one of you got caught up in something nasty. Allies, a package deal and all that. He didn’t want your connection to him to put you or Peko in danger. He knew you’d both die for him, and he for you, and he wouldn’t let any of these idiots use that weakness against you.

~

The cat was long since out of the bag. Peko was gone and you’d helped Mikan nurse Fuyuhiko in and out of the hospital after his near-fatal wounds from trying to save the swordswoman from her from execution. Everyone knew of your relationship now, which meant no more sneaking around behind everyone’s back, but Peko’s life wasn’t the price you ever wanted to pay for that freedom. Along with Peko’s passing additionally came a visible change in your boyfriend’s soul. Though he still had that fiery temper, he controlled it with great effort now. He tried harder with people, forgave easier, loved better, appreciated more. The days of reflection in the hospital stirred something in him.

Weeks passed, and it was one tragedy after another. From the group giving you hell about keeping secrets, to tending to Fuyuhiko’s extensive wounds, to now finding Ibuki hanging from a rope and Hiyoko posted up against a pillar with her throat slit, your group couldn’t seem to catch a break.

Though Mikan and yourself begged him to get some rest - as his wound had already reopened once - Fuyuhiko insisted on investigating in preparation for the trial with everyone else. He was as strong-willed as ever. You searched the hospital with him for clues or evidence the blackened may have sloppily left behind. He was on edge, and you couldn’t blame him. Everyone was, these were the fifth and sixth classmates dead in the blink of an eye, and the killer was still on the loose. Your skin crawled and you were extra jumpy today. Every corpse you had to look upon took a little more of your innocence and vitality from you, and this maniac had already killed twice. What was to stop them from killing again?

Fuyuhiko insisted that he wasn’t scared of the blackened, quite the opposite. It was his rage aimed at them that would fuel his strength to move on and identify them. You knew him well, and knew when to back off when he was in a mood. Everything seemed to annoy him at the moment. It was hard to search with him and cooperate when he got pissed off everytime you fussed over his healing injuries. He kept swatting you away then apologizing for being irate and short-tempered. He just wanted you to stop babying him.

Just now bending over to search near a hospital bed, Fuyuhiko shot upright, jumping at a sudden sound that startled him.

“What the fuck-?!” He turned to the source of the loud crash behind him. You were splayed out across the floor behind him, a deep gash on your cheek spilling blood down your face as you sat up. “What the hell did you do?!”

“I just tripped! I’m fine!” You gestured with one hand to a small table you’d toppled over, holding your bloody cheek with the other. The contents on said table, various sharp little medical instruments and tools, were strew about and on top of your body. Fuyujiko glared at the hard counter top of the cabinet you’d hit your cheek off of on the way down. Now you knew how Mikan felt, always making a mess of her clumsy self.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot! Why don’t you watch where you’re going?! We’ve got enough shit to deal with right now!” He kneeled down to your level and started rapidly picking up the various scalpels and knives around you.

“I’m sorry, ‘Hiko…” the shame was setting in. He was already ornery today and you’d somehow made it even worse. He leaned over your body, reaching for more of the small instruments.

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it! You-”  hovering over you, he lifted one of the razor sharp tools above his head in a clenched, angry gesture. You turned your head, gasping slightly and flinching away from him. Your free hand came up to cover your face with your eyes shut tight in a grimace. Upon seeing you recoil, cowering away from him like that, he halted, the rest of his complaint dropping off into oblivion.

He didn’t want to be like that anymore, remember? He reminded himself of his temper, of his talks with Hajime in the hospital, of Peko’s memory urging him to do better, of his display of humility to Hiyoko in the hotel restaurant.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, putting the instrument aside and gently pulling you to your feet alongside him.

“Come on, sit down. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He pushed you gently down to sit on the hospital bed and reached for some simple disinfectant, a cloth to put it on, and a large bandage. He began to pat the blood away. “We’ll have Mikan look at this later to see if it needs stitches, but this is the best I can do for now.” He noticed you avoiding his eye contact and his heart sank. “Hey…” He held your chin, titing your head to look up and meet his gaze. “I’m really sorry, okay. I would never lay a hand on you. That is a fact. Please… know this for certain.”

“I know, I just… I don’t know… I’m sorry I reacted that way.” His apology helped, but you still felt a little foolish.

“No, it’s me who should be sorry. There’s no need to get that angry, especially at you, especially for an accident.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. He had a long way to go. “Please slow down. Be more careful and worry about yourself as much as you worry about me. I can’t lose you, too.”

Hajime Hinata

You’d closed yourself up in your cabin for good, with no plans to go out in the foreseeable future. Every few minutes you checked the locks, on both the doors and the windows, biting your nails down to nearly bleeding. In addition to shutting yourself in, you’d shut the world, the island, and all your classmates out. You were a nervous wreck.

Mere hours ago, Nagito had blown the hotel lobby and everyone in it sky high. He’d finally lost what little marbles he had left. Nobody knew fully why, but he’d snapped too far beyond repair. Both you and poor Kazuichi were very near to the blast zone, and even now you felt a dizziness and slight loss of hearing. You were sure that over in his cabin, Kazuichi was feeling the same way. You wanted to pass out, to scream, to topple over in exhaustion but refused to let yourself leave your post. As much as you were tired and dizzy, you were equally as terrified. What if that maniac Nagito showed up again to finish the job? Though the vertigo threatened to take you down for the count, you were determined to stay vigilant. Your mind grew more and more dull and hazy by the second, though.

Hajime and the others wanted to go to the new island in the morning, and as far as you were concerned, they could search until their hearts were content. You’d given up. You’d been broken. You’d been beaten by Monokuma and this killing game. Why go to a new island? Every time you guys went to a new island to explore, someone died. Everyone was dying. There was a psychopath hell-bent on blowing you up - or worse - on the loose. You were content to stay in your cottage and rot away. Paranoid and eroded away from trial after trial, you’d refused to let anyone in, even your sweet boyfriend, Hajime, who’d already tried to come check on you several times that night. Even as the rain poured down from the night sky and lightning cracked consistently, he kept coming back. He was extremely concerned about you, but you just couldn’t do it anymore. You didn’t trust anyone anymore. You couldn’t.

You trusted Teruteru, and Peko, and Mikan, and Gundham, and Nagito… it was all too much. Who would betray you next? Who would stab you in the back when you least expected it for a chance at freedom as a blackened who got away with it? It could be literally anyone. Sonia had a country to get back to, an entire country waiting for her. Fuyuhiko had an empire. They all had a reason to live and you’d be an easy target in this state of barely conscious, injured and mentally broken.

You’d almost fallen asleep when a knock came at your door, again…

You almost chose to ignore it, but figured getting your body moving would keep you awake, so you forced your feet over to the door.

“Hajime…?” You assumed, your voice weak.

“Man…” he sighed loudly, muffled by the rain and the barrier of the door, “(Y/N)... you sound terrible. I really do think you have a concussion. Please let me in. I’m worried sick.”

“Please go away, Hajime. I’m sorry… I’ll be fine. I just -”

“I know you’re scared. You know you can trust me.” There was that word again… Moments passed in silent contemplation. “... I’m gonna keep coming back until you let me in. I’m soaked… please…” he whined, jiggling the door handle on his side. Now it was your turn to sigh. You rested your head against the door, senses dimming fast. He was probably right, you most likely did have a concussion. Your head ached, your vision was a bit blurry, the light of your cabin bothered your eyes. “You can’t just stay in there forever, you need medical atten-” The door swung open before him, and you hurriedly signaled for him to come in, swiftly locking the door behind him.

“No sudden movements. I’m a bit confused right now… everything’s a bit slow…” Your words slurred out but he seemed to catch them all.

“Yeah, no shit. You were blown all the way across the hotel floor. Come here, let me check something.” He took your wrist and stood you in the center of the room in front of him. He pulled a small flashlight he won from the gacha machine from his pocket and flashed it into your eyes slowly. “Try to stand still.” You were trying to, but swayed and stumbled regardless. “See, you can’t even do that much. Look, since Mikan is gone, we gotta let Monomi help us out. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

“What?! No, no no…” your heart beat quickened, feeling that paranoid panic set in again. “I’m not leaving this room.” The confusion was hitting again as you stumbled backwards a step and your back met the side of your bed. Was this a set up? You already let him in, now he wanted to get you out in the open? “Something’s gonna happen! I won’t go!”

“(Y/N), I promise I’ll get you to the hospital safely and I’ll stay with you the whole time. I know you’re scared but you’re being irrational right now!”

A thunderous boom sounded outside as high above your cabin the lightning cracked. In an instant, all of the lights wavered and went out. You cried out into the pitch black. You couldn’t see even a foot in front of you. This was definitely a set up. It had stormed plenty of times on this island, and the lights never went out like this.

Hajime reached out for you in the dark, and you screamed even louder at his touch. This was it, the betrayal. It was inevitable on this hell of an island. No one could truly be trusted.

“(Y/N), stop! Stop yelling!” Hajime grabbed one of your wrists in the dark, and you sank to the floor, too dizzy to stand any longer. He heard the thud of your butt hitting the ground, though he couldn’t see it, and sunk to his knees beside you.

“Please… don’t hurt me, Hajime…” the words tumbled out of your mouth lazily. You wanted to pass out so badly.

“Hurt you?” He sounded incredulous, almost scoffing. Turning the screen brightness all the way up on his e-handbook, he set it on the ground beside you both for some type of light, as meager as it was, and sat the flashlight beside it. He grabbed your face in his hands, gently shaking you to alertness. He’d heard it wasn’t good to let someone with a concussion fall asleep. “I’d never hurt you.” He stated almost matter-of-factly. “You’re just going through a rough time right now... Don’t talk like that. You know I’d never hurt you. I care about you, a lot.” He adjusted your position so you were sitting up a little straighter.

It pained him to see you this way. This killing game was stealing your luster, your goodness, your spirit. He’d noticed that your smile - a smile he loved so very much - grew smaller and smaller with each trial. Now it’d come to this. You were frightened of even him…

“I’m so scared, Hajime…”

“I know. I know you are.” He spoke with compassion in his voice. “Will you let me help you? Please…?” He waited for your nod of confirmation before continuing. “Come on,” he scooped one arm under your legs and the other under behind your back and stood with you in his arms. “We’re gonna get you the help you need. I know it’s hard, but we are a team. You, me, Chiaki, Sonia, Kazuichi, Fuyuhiko, Akane, we need to do this together. I know it’s hard to trust after all that’s happened, but I’m gonna keep you safe, and we’re gonna survive this, together.”

Kazuichi Soda

Kazuichi sat in front of the busted funhouse elevator, ass nearly numb from sitting in that position for hours. He was squatting before, until his knees began to hurt as well. You sat behind him, handing him tool after tool when he needed it and offering encouragement and advice when you could. Still, he was being testy and very short with you and the two of you had gotten into it several times today already. Nothing big, just a few little spats. You had to keep reminding him that you were only trying to help, but nonetheless he was in a foul mood.

You knew he was truly mad at the situation, not you. His anger was misplaced but it still hurt. You’d all been locked up in the funhouse for days without food and with minimal sleep due to Monokuma’s interference and everyone was on each other’s last nerves. Now the elevator was broken, and the Ultimate Mechanic was expected to be the one to fix it. He’d been at it all day, and with each set back or miniscule perceived failure, he got more and more irritated.

You handed him a wrench you’d gotten from the hidden room beyond the Final Dead Room. All the tools he was currently using were from there as well. Oh yeah, that was another reason he was so pissed off. He’d never admit to it, but the fact that you were smart and brave enough to pass the Final Dead Room’s test unscathed and here he couldn't even fix this measly machine irked him like nothing else. He felt like the word useless might as well have been stamped onto his head. After he let out yet another frustrated groan, stretching out his sore wrist, you sighed and spoke up:

“Hey, Kaz’, it’s okay if you can’t get it done today. Let’s get some rest. We need to conserve energy.” He looked at you as if you’d just called him the biggest loser ever.

“That’s easy for you to say! You’re actually contributing to the group! You don’t have the burden of feeling like a failure on your mind!” He gritted his sharp teeth.

“You are contributing by even trying to fix it!” You retorted, not appreciating his tone or him starting an argument with you yet again today.

“Oh, don’t patronize me! You just don’t get it! Everyone likes you and you’re good at everything you try! I can’t even do what I was literally born to do correctly!” He spat.

“Oh, Kazuichi, give me a break! It is not that deep! Nobody even needs to use the elevator at this very moment!” You shifted your position right next to him, crossing your arms over your chest in a pouting display.

“If you’re not gonna help, then just go away!” He leaned forward toward you, raising the wrench in his hand in exasperation. You jolted backwards, leaning away from him with a fright.

…

Things got really awkward, very fast. The air went dead silent and all anger drained from his face. He lowered the wrench as a blank expression took over, followed by one of slight embarrassment. Did you really think he was gonna hit you with it? A moment passed, and you both looked away from each other, refusing to make eye contact.

“H-hey…” Kazuichi hesitated for a second, then made up his mind. Grabbing your shoulder, he seized you into his chest and held you tightly. His mind flashed back to his years in the family shop, to glimpses of his dad screaming whenever he angered him, even hitting him sometiimes for fucking up on a car. He might have even deserved it - he thought - but you didn’t. For sure, you didn't. He respected but feared his father, and he didn’t want to make anyone feel like that, especially not you. “I would never hit ya like that! Y-you gotta know that, right?!” His voice broke as he fought back tears. “I’m sorry for being an asshole today. This place just fuckin’ sucks you know? I can’t take it anymore!” You felt wetness soak through your shirt on your shoulder though you couldn’t see his face. You returned the hug, pulling him tighter into yourself. You two sat like that for a long while, resigned to give the elevator another try sometime later.

Nekomaru Nidai

You and Nekomaru were kinda… a thing? It was complicated because you were two very different people, but there was a little spark, a mutual crush that was known of and whispered about by the other students. It was weird, because you two flirted with each other, but nothing really ever happened because when he was around, you felt like a flustered mess, a puddle of mush. He was an intimidating, extroverted mountain of a man, and it was easy to become nervous in his presence. It’s like you were touch-starved, head over heels for your handsome classmate and yet the thought of him touching you turned you into an anxious idiot at the same time. You spent a quite lot of time together but there was rarely any touching other than a motivational clap on the back or the slap when you made a good joke, maybe even a very platonic-feeling bear hug as a greeting every once in a while.

In fact, you saw more chemistry between him and Akane, or even him and Hajime, two people he hung out with all the time. Heck, he touched Akane a lot more than he ever touched you. It made you feel a bit jealous, even. You felt silly even admitted this to yourself, as he wasn’t even your boyfriend and could do whatever he pleased, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

You wanted to be mature, to be honest and communicate your feelings with him once and for all because the pining, the unfulfilled feelings were driving you crazy but it had totally blown up in your face. Turns out your relationship with him was a lot more complicated than you originally thought. The talk ended up as a bit of an argument… well, it felt like you were arguing and stumbling over your feelings while he didn’t seem to be upset at all, which made you feel even more overwhelmed. You felt childish, unable to express yourself in a way that didn’t feel humiliating. He always seemed willing to talk something out, but at the same time didn’t really seem to understand how you felt in any other way than on a platonic level. He motivated, talked to, trained, and fixed people for a living, but maybe sports and romance were just too different for this conversation to click in his head. Or maybe… you were reading the signs all wrong. Maybe he didn’t like you back at all. Maybe you and your peers had misinterpreted his fondness for you as flirting, and you decided to accept that. You respectfully asked him to forget about everything you said, and apologized for the confusion and awkwardness, making your swift exit.

~

Sulking, dejected and needing some alone time, you walked along the lengthy bridge that connected Jabberwock Park to the island that housed the supermarket and resort. The sun was in the process of setting, leaving the island nearly dark with last last bits of daylight.

“(Y/N)!” You looked up from your navel-gazing to see a large figure bolting toward you at the speed of light. Nekomaru’s sudden appearance startled you even though you knew the guy to be loud and over the top. At that distance, you may not have been able to tell it was him in this little lighting if he weren’t yelling out your name. You’d recognize the voice from a mile away. As he finally approached, not the least bit out of breath, he began to speak immediately.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” He seemed a bit different, a bit less charged-up than his usual state. It was like a calm state of focus.

“Hey… Nekomaru.” You smiled weakly, still extremely nervous standing in his shadow. You had to tell yourself that you only felt this way because you liked him, and you had to let go of those feelings. “What’s up?” You twiddled your thumbs timidly, eluding the eye contact.

“I wanted to talk to you about earlier. When we chatted… well, I’ve been thinking about it all day. It’s been bothering me! So…” His brow furrowed. It wasn’t often he was speechless. “Uhhh..” he stalled in his deep rumble of a voice. He took a step closer to you, and you took one skittish step back. It felt weird having him in your personal bubble. It bred butterflies in your stomach. You began to shiver. It was partly because of the chill in the evening air, and partly because you dreaded confrontation like this. You feared he would make this more painful and awkward than it already was. Why couldn’t he leave it be? You weren’t his type, you accepted that! You took another self-conscious step back.

“We don’t really need to talk about it. I get how you feel, it’s fi-” a gasp passed through your lips as his massive hand suddenly flew down toward you. You flinched backward just a tad and felt your heel slip off the edge of the bridge. His hand found its desired destination around your waist and he pulled you in snugly to his wide, warm chest.

“W-why did you do that?” You looked up at him, your face pulsating with warmth just underneath the skin. He raised a brow apphrehensively at your reaction.

“You were shaking, so I figured you were cold. Plus, you were about to fall off the bridge. Two birds, one stone! Bet you’re warmin’ up now, huh?” He grinned down at you briefly before the wary expression took over again. “Hey, I know I’m a big dude an’ all, but you don’t need to be afraid of me or anything…” he mumbled and you could feel him speak from your position smashed against his chest. You looked down now, a bit ashamed that you made him feel that way. You didn’t know why he cared what you thought of him, but you could hear the slight hurt in his voice.

“I’m not scared of you, Nekomaru… quite the opposite…”

“Whaddaya mean?” What did he mean what do you mean??? Was he really that clueless? You literally had a whole conversation about this earlier today. Did the meaning of your words fly totally over his head… or were you just not clear enough?

“Nekomaru… I’m not scared I just…” you paused, debating just shutting up then and there, “I just get really nervous around you because… I really like you. Like as more than a friend…”

“You do?” Why did he sound genuinely surprised?

“I told you so earlier…”

“You did?!” He donned a puzzled look, and you looked up at him, incredulous. “No way!”

“I told you how I felt earlier, and you didn’t seem to feel the same so I let it go!”

“See, I told you it’s been bothering me, because I couldn’t for the life of me understand what you were so upset about earlier!” He threw his head back in one of his endearing, hearty laughs. What was that stereotype? Dumb jock?

“I mean, I tried to tell you, without being too forward or blunt. I was afraid you’d reject me…”

“Haha! Next time, why don’t you try to be more straightforward and honest with your feelings? It feels good!” He flexed the arm that held you close, giving you a good squeeze. You felt your cheeks warm up sheepishly.

“Like I said… you make me nervous…” you chuckled diffidently.

“Well, what do you say we try that talk again?” He began to resume the walk across the bridge, with you under his arm. “This time, we both be clear adn honest with each other?” His eyebrow wriggled rather mischeviously. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised with the results.”

Twogami / Ultimate Imposter

You’d spent nearly all of what little time you’d been on the island with Byakuya. You were starting to form a little crush on him, and he was rather fond of you as well (not that he’d ever openly admit it) so he allowed it. You of course knew about the Togami family’s power and influence, everyone did, so you found yourself a bit shy around him, but having fun at the same time getting to know him. You were a bit of of a people pleaser, both curious about him and eager to help if he needed it. There were times when you two simply hung out, like two normal people, and sometimes he even seemed to find you as fascinating as you found him. When he found himself asking one too many questions about you, however, he always seemed to reel it in, pulling back like he had some type of wall up.

You were fine with it. You’d just met a few days ago after all, and the friendship… or something more, would form when it formed. You didn’t want to force it. You were already feeling a bit silly and about wanting to connect with the Ultimate Affulent Progeny in the first place. Someone with his wealth and status could probably spend his time with anyone he wanted.

The threat of the start of a potential killing game was putting everyone on edge, even the scion himself, though he carried it better than most. He genuinely looked like someone your class might be able to look to as a leader.

The group had decided to throw a little party later that night, and you offered to help Byakuya tick off and confiscate all weapons or even potential weapons in the old building that would house this party… for some reason. Every loose wooden plank, every butter knife, every pointy object had to go. It felt like he knew something no one else did… but, you happily followed along, helping him with this task. Honestly, though, on the inside, you feared he was being a little too uptight. How would he enjoy the little get together tonight in this state of uneasiness?

In between locking up items he dubbed nefarious and double checking every corner of the building, you two actually got to know each other a little better. After hours of work, he was satisfied. All the while, he seemed to be watching Teruteru and Nagito like a hawk as the two shuffled in and out of the building preparing tonight’s dishes and cleaning respectively. What was Byakuya hiding from you? Why all the suspicion? Did he genuinely think one of your classmates would kill someone tonight? That was just insane to even think about.

Trying to ease his mind, you started up an innocent conversation.

“You shouldn’t worry so much, really! Tonight will be great! I know it. I brought my good luck charm and everything!” Smiling and seeking to distract his tense mind, you brought a little trinket out from your back pocket. In your flattened out hand you displayed a little baby blue pocket knife, barely the size of your palm. “My dad gave it to me when I was really little, and I -”

“What is wrong with you?!” Byakuya’s hand shot out toward you to grab the small blade and you flinched backward, holding your hands up defnesively and dropping it onto the floor in the process. The sudden, angry movement had frightened you, especially coming from a man who knew how to hold an intimidating presence.

The silence then was palpable as it hung in the air, and he, the real him, wanted to apologize, to explain himself and express regret for overreacting. He wanted to say that you’d been a joy to hang out with these past few days and that he’d never raise a hand to you, but Byakuya Togami would never lower himself to say these things… and right now, he was Byakuya Togami. He steeled himself to speak.

“I was merely going to confiscate the blade from you. What a gross overreaction…” He spoke condescendingly. “Do you really think me some animal, some lesser beast who physically assaults people? Don’t insult me so…” He scoffed, plucked the blade from the ground and pocketed it. “I don’t know what kind of men you’ve dealt with, but clearly you’ve been hanging around with the dregs of humanity.” Crossing his arms nonchalantly over his chest, he left you there without another word, satisfied that his facade had remained in tact. Inside, it burned, it hurt to be so cruel to such a sweet person like you. He left to make final preparations for the party tonight and you stayed behind, offering to help Teruteru and Nagito since you were already there. It would take your mind off of the humiliation you just suffered.

~

Early into the next morning, when Monokuma dismissed the survivors of the very first class trial back to their cottages at last, you’d nearly missed it as you crawled onto your bed in a tired, traumatized ball:

A rectangular black box sat on your bedside table. It wasn’t yours, and you were sure your cabin door was locked. How did it even get there?

You opened it cautiously and found the most expensive looking, elegant, and elaborate looking pen in the world within. On one side was the Togami family crest, engraved delicately and masterfully. Tucked under it was a small note. You read it, tears welling up immediately.

A replacement good luck charm - T

Gundham Tanaka

Gundham felt totally secure with you, a feeling he’d never truly felt with anyone else. He’d never state it in plain words, but it was true nonetheless. You’d always been accepting of him and his rather eccentric ways. He didn’t need to feel like an outcast around you. He felt completely seen, understood on a whole new level. He could’ve sworn you cast some sort of spell over him, the way his cheeks and the tips of his ears would feel like they were on fire when you complimented him or held his hand. He nearly burst into flames when you once pecked his cheek with your soft lips after he carried a bunch of stuff back to your cabin for you as a favor.

You two spent nearly every day together. Everyone knew you two were a thing and you didn’t mind the teasing. You had no reason to be ashamed of how you felt about Gundham. He was the kindest soul you’d ever met, it just took a little digging to figure that out. Other than Hajime and Sonia - the only other two who really tried to get to know him - you were the only one who he’d let tend to the Devas. You often held them, fed them, watched them in your cabin when Gundham showered or needed a short break. The hamsters and Gundham himself provided a much needed light for you in the darkness of this killing game. The little things you did with him mattered so much to you. You appreciated every moment when in this place, you could be very much dead the next day. You swam at the pool and went shopping at the supermarket together on the main island, ate at the diner together on the second, hung out at the music venue together on the third, and now, trapped in the funhouse with starvation as the motive, Gundham insisted that you share the sound-proof, luxury room with him.

You’d initially gotten extremely flustered by his request but eventually accepted. Gundham didn’t seem to think twice about it. You supposed he was so naive to romance that he saw nothing wrong with you two sharing a bedroom at all. Maybe he did know, but cared more about your safety than the embarrassment. You knew he’d never do anything without your express permission anyway, so after deliberating, decided it was a non-issue. It was unusual for Monomi not to pop up to protest, however.

~

Days into being trapped in the funhouse, you sat at the small desk in your room feeling like a total asshole. You’d been in an argument with Gundham earlier, one that you’d totally started and knew you were in the wrong for. You rarely ever had a disagreement with him, much less gotten into a full-on fight. It was a bit one-sided however, as you yelled and complained while he just tried to reason with you and ultimately ended up leaving you alone in the room for some space. You regretted it the instant he left, and had made up your mind to apologize the second he returned. You were miserable: starving and dead tired from Monokuma Tai Chi every morning, but that was no excuse for your behavior. Everyone else was hungry and cranky, too, and you’d taken your anger out on Gundham for no reason.

You pulled out the headphones and small MP3 player Hajime gifted you when you hung out a few weeks back and slumped forward on the desk, moping as you put the headphones in and blasted the music as loud as the cheap earbuds would allow. You had to pass the time somehow, and walking around looking for Gundham when he’d eventually come back here to sleep would waste what little energy you had left. There was a small part of your mind that wondered: what if he didn’t come back? Your heart ached. Everyone was starving… someone would have to kill soon to get out of this hopeless situation. You could only hope and pray that the last thing you said to Gundham wouldn’t be that hateful nonsense. You let yourself zone out, head down on the desk and eyes closed lazily. You began to doze off and wouldn’t know how long you were out.

You awoke to the music still blasting in your ears and a tap on your shoulder.

“Hmm?” Groggily you turned to see Gundham behind you. Gripped tightly in his gauze-wrapped hand was a large, sharp knife the length of your forearm. Your eyes widened and you screamed, taken off guard by the frightening sight. “Gundham, please, no!” It was a bit odd that he looked more shocked than you did as you backed away from him, falling off the chair and onto the floor behind it with a thud. Tears began to stream down you face. 

You didn’t think it would end like this, but it was kinda of the perfect location. The room was sound-proof, after all. You just never expected a betrayal this cruel. Maybe you should’ve. After all this time, all of these deaths, it was naive to truly trust anyone on this island. Why did it have to be him though of all people? Maybe he had to do this. After all, the Devas were starving, too, and they meant the world to him. Getting out meant saving them as well.

Tossing the knife onto the bed, he rushed over to you, kneeling to the floor and tearing the earbuds out of your ears.

“What sort of demon has possessed you?!” Confusion coated his visage and the Devas hopped down from their master’s scarf and swarmed you, sensing your distress.

“What do you mean?! You just scared the shit outta me!” Fresh tears sprang forward with your frustration.

“That was never my intention, my beloved…” he shook his head apologetically.

“Well you can’t just pop up out of nowhere with a knife like that, especially in a situation like this! I thought you were about to fucking murder me!” 

“I assumed you knew that I would never do you harm, so I didn’t see an issue with my approach… These other peasants would do well to fear my dark powers, but I thought you knew that my loyalties lie with you, dear one!” He pulled off one of his dramatic gestures. You pulled your knees up into yourself, suddenly feeling very stupid.

He proceeded to explain that while he was gone, he’d decided to take on the Final Dead Room in hopes of finding a route of escape from the funhouse because he couldn’t stand to see you suffer like this for a single day more. Instead, he came upon a cache of weapons of every sort and size, and begged you to keep that fact a secret. Pulling you to your feet, he sat you down on the bed and handed you the knife.

“Since I can not spirit you away from this hell, I have chosen to provide you with the means to defend yourself should I ever fail to. Hide it somewhere that is always accessible to you and no one else. And my darling, I beg of thee,” he pleaded, “cease all usage of that wretched machine!” He pointed to the MP3 player discarded onto the ground. “You must be on your guard at all times in this place, especially if the Devas and I are not there to guard you.” Your bottom lip quivered, heart swelling at his concern for you, even after you screamed at him earlier. You sat the knife down and threw your arms around him, collapsing into his chest. You didn’t deserve him.

“I’m so sorry, Gundham! After I sat here and bitched at you for no reason, you went out and still thought of my safety? I’m so, so sorry!”

“Think nothing of it, dear one…” He mumbled, burying his red face in his scarf.

Teruteru Hanamura

Most of the your other classmates were repulsed or at the very least annoyed by Teruteru’s antics. His behavior: overtly flirty and forward, even to the point of perversion, was a major turn off for most of the people he talked to, but you actually really liked him. You found his one-liners funny, his pick up lines amusing. He was genuinely fun to hang out with, in your opinion. He complimented you a lot, and you would playfully tease and flirt back. He really seemed to enjoy the matching of his energy, and though you’d only known each other for about a week, you spent a lot of time together. He was usually showing you some simple yet delicious recipes and letting you taste test his meals (of course with a lot of innuendos built in) and you would share your interests with him while you cooked together. You noticed, also, that the more time you spent with him, the less time he spent bothering the others. Maybe all he needed was a little positive attention all along.

Tonight, all of your classmates would be attending a party, both to socailize and ensure that nothing could happen because you’d all be in the same place, which would leave too many witnesses, therefore making a killing unlikely. Teruteru of course was excited to do what he did best and provide the meals for the party, but his mood seemed to be like a rollercaster that day. As you spent hours helping him cook, sometimes leaving to take breaks or talk to the others, he seemed to go from flirty to worried, salacious to nervous, confident to angry. His mood seemed to turn foul when Nagito would waltz by the kitchen, passing through as he did his assigned cleaning duties in the party building. You noted this, but it was strange, as you hadn’t known Teruteru to particularly dislike any of your peers… Did he have an issue with Nagito? But Nagito was so chill…

No matter the reason for his mood swings, you took them for what they were and tried to help out by offering an extra hand (which he made a dirty joke about) or changing the subject when he got gloomy. You could only do so much to stabilize his mood, however, and eventually he seemed to just be barking orders or frustrated with you. He was already in a bad mood and you didn’t want to contribute to it. You weren’t a true chef anyway and you were probably just getting in the way, you figured, so you took a big tray of finished dishes and began to make your way out to the dining hall.

Your shoe caught onto a thick chord just outside the kitchen door, just a piece of junk Nagito hadn’t gotten to yet and you tumbled forward, spilling the entire tray onto the floor. You gasped as you hit the floor, your knees stinging with the impact. Teruteru, who witnessed the whole thing, ran over to you with a shriek to make sure you were okay. The melancholy melted away, and checking on you was all that mattered.

“(Y/N)!” Mistaking his tone for anger because of his previously existing foul mood, you were startled by his approach, flinching away, shrinking backwards slightly. You fucked up, you ruined the dishes he spent hours making. He was probably furious with you. He stopped dead in his tracks, shocked by that instinctual response from you. With your reaction, he finally realized how rude he’d been to you all night. It wasn’t your fault Nagito was up to no good, and even knowing what he knew, he shoudn’t have taken his mood out on you. He was pushing away the one person who treated him with such kindness and respect on this island. His mother wouldn’t have been proud of that. “Take my hand.” He extended it to you and helped you to your feet.

“I’m so sorry, Teruteru, your food-!” You began to apologize profusely but he cut you off.

“I can always make more. I enjoy making more. Are you alright? You took quite the spill!” He smiled warmly at you. “I shoudln’t have been so… intense earlier. My apologies.”

“Oh I’m fine! It’s okay. But, about the food… are you sure it’s gonna be okay? Can we really make more in time?” He nodded enthusiastically in response. When you beamed back at him, he felt his inside twist into a knot.

He had to stop Nagito tonight. It was decided. He didn’t know how, or the extent of Nagito’s plans, but he couldn’t let him start the killing game with that knife he’d caught him taping under the the dining hall table earlier that morning.

Because… what if Nagito chose you, as his victim?

[tayerdraws]

The Amazing Digital Funhouse Masterpost!!!

Hello peps! Now that the main cast is done, it’s time for the masterpost! This AU had me on like a chokehold or something cause it was to good not to finish it! This AU combines two of my interests together in a nutshell: TADC and FNAF! I hope you enjoy!

The Amazing Digital Funhouse opened its doors in 2002 and was designed with fans young and old in mind so that they can experience the game like never before! Featuring a ton of fun games, attractions, shows, events and delicious food and drink. And we cannot forget the gang that started it all! we are able to bring the characters to life so that you can meet them up close and in person. These identical copies of the iconic cast of the once iconic game are able to interact with you in a way that is truly magical. Whenever you are having a birthday party or a fun day out with all the family, The Amazing Digital Funhouse will truly make feel like apart of the show!

Now it’s time to meet..

THE FUNHOUSE GANG!

Caine

Lovable, wacky and most of all loves to put on a good show, Caine is the host with the most of the funhouse and his performances and magic tricks are eager to give the most famous magicians a run for their money. With his butter smooth voice and over optimistic personality, he knows how to put on a good show. His personality may make him seem like a out of control ringmaster but don’t let that fool you! Despite his let loose kind of attitude, he still strives to entertain you, no matter what!

Bubble

Meet Bubble, Caine’s partner in crime and his loyal yet quite goofy co-host, always having something random to say when his best bud gets a little too rowdy. His actions may make him look like an annoying little rascal and for how annoying he may be, he has his friends back. When it’s helping to hosting a party or eating all the food that he promised is for his friends, he is the silly little rascal we all know and love.

Pomni

Pomni is a jester that always finds a way to make her friends laugh whenever they feel down. But when she is not making the audience have another trip to the loo, she can be found hanging out with her best buds most of the time but can be seen having her own personal space. She has a wild attitude that doesn’t mind causing trouble when it comes for her time to shine. And please don’t call her short.

Jax

The funhouse’s cocky and laid back inventor! This periwinkle rabbit is known for his wacky inventions that ether turn out to be a big mistake or operate successfully. When he isn’t in his workshop, he is also known to be quite the prankster! But don’t always expect him to be like that when it comes to his opinions towards his friends. Design the case, just try to stay on his chill side and not his crazy prankster side.

Ragatha

Introducing Ragatha or Rags or short, our sweet, caring and compassionate ragdoll that is quite the gamer! In fact, she has the highest scores on many of the games here, now that’s what we call talent. When there is a problem. She will be always be there to help out when trouble rises. Ether way, She is that iconic dolly that is sure to show that kindness is always the answer.

Gangle

Confident on the outside as much as shy she is on the inside, Gangle is quite the fan of musicals and everything theatre! She may look confident and brave but don’t think that’s the case! In reality, she is actually is quite a shy bunch of ribbons but when you get to know her, she may or may not dump you on her favourite musicals. Just don’t break her comedy mask.

Zooble

Chill, Groovy and quite the opposite from the rest of the gang, Zooble is sure to make you dance along to sweet mixtapes and remixes! Whereas the rest of the cast is more high energy, Zooble is more chill and has a sense of swag and is pretty competitive when it comes to games. You can tell she’s a winner! But nothing compares to her sick beats and her rockin’ remixes! When she starts the party, you know you’re in for a awesome time.

Kinger

Hailing from royal origins, Kinger is known for being abit of a coo-coo bananas kind of person with a fascination in insects and magic! Some consider him “Crazy” but despite the fact, he isn’t afraid to be brutally honest about his history and how talented he is at magic, in fact he is a pro at it! Whenever he is making snarky comments on his insects or duelling with guests with a sword in hand, he is just there to make guests smile!

Gummigoo

YEEHAW! Sheriff comin’ right through! Meet Gummigoo,The reckless yet butt-kickin’ cowboy that is sure is quite the beast. Coming straight from the sweet smelling deserts of the Candy Canyon Kingdom, Gummigoo is not who you think he is when you say “hero” but turned to the side of good after meeting Pomni in a bubblegum cave after falling down a hole that lead to the mines that were deep within the caves. When you say he’s reckless, we mean it! Mainly being the one to partake in rodeos and insane heists that will make public services think twice about who they catch. Despite his ramshackled past, he will stop at nothing to become anybody’s hero!

Munchimax and Chewichad

If you can have one gummy gator then they can’t be alone without the other, right? Gummigoo’s goofy yet overall comedic duo, Munchimax and Chewichad are the definition of that sentence. Also known as Max and Chad for short, they turned to the side of good after their boss’s redemption and so did their past of robbing banks and maple syrup! Munchimax is the clumsy yet goofy one of the duo, often leading him into rather sticky situations in the long run. Just don’t point out that he is trying to steal his boss’s spotlight. Chad on the other hand is just as more of a country gator than any one else. He is a bit of a dummy at times but is darn good at playing the banjo despite his long arms being the only thing thats ahead of himself.

The Gloink Queen

Driven by the desire for popularity, The Gloink Queen is quite a mysterious royal and no one knows where she even came from! Not even Caine himself! She is the black sheep of the group and the total opposite of the funhouse gang, always playing tricks and spoiling the fun using her Gloink minions (despite her calling them her servants)! She’s always got a trick up her sleeve from ruining birthday parties to complaining about the guests leaving a ruckus of a mess in her lair. She loves to play games but don’t expect her to play fair, when you do prepare to be met with a lot of obtuse clues that might lead to a trap! She sure is an old school villain that you don’t want to meet!

I had a ton of fun making this au and I really like how to came out! I’m pretty excited to post more of these guys! And back into the void I go.

[lovingly-dedicated]

Hey, gang!

There's just three weeks until Marxolor Week '24! A celebration of our favorite trickster duo in whatever form you love them best!

Have you seen our [Prompt] list? (You can find [Rules] here!)

Have you read it but you're still struggling to come up with something? If so, then read below as I go over the prompts and throw some ideas out to help stoke the fires of your imagination!!

Day 1: "Conflict" or "Meeting." 

We love 'em because they've got so much in common, but these two can't be in perfect sync all the time. For those times when they aren't, there's "Conflict." (Or maybe, it's someone else they're in conflict with? Do these two make a good team in a fight?)

"Meeting" could be anything from how they met the first time to the duo meeting up to plan for their next scheme! Or maybe, they're meeting up for something more private and personal...? /SFW

Day 2: "Curiosity" or "Mirrored"

What was it that initially drew the two of them to each other? What catches their interest? Have they learned something new about themselves? Or their world? ...Maybe the reason why they stick together is the "Curiosity" to everyone around them!

With all those similarities, Marx and Magolor's stories are mirror images in many ways. Even their bodies feel like they're "Mirrored" Or you could use this prompt to jump into the Mirror World and see how they are there, or how they'd react to meeting each other! (Or even draw them making silly faces at a funhouse mirror!)

Day 3: "Cunning" or "Magic"

Marx and Magolor each specialize in their own brand of "Cunning." Outright lies for Magolor; deceptive withholding of the truth for Marx. Will they use these against each other...or team up? Cunning can be about deceptively innocent and cute looks too. Perhaps you'll want to explore these borb-shaped wolves in sheep's clothing?

A wizard and a magician! You could use them to talk about "Magic" theory. Or explore what each one can do that the other can't? (Are they jealous?) Or...is it like magic when they look into each other's eyes? Maybe Magolor helps Marx with a magic show?

Day 4: "Clockwork" or "Majesty"

There's that darn clockwork star again! Has Marx told Magolor the story of Galactic Nova? What if he takes him there on a trip? Has wishing on a Nova affected Marx in a way Magolor can tell? ...Or maybe, something in their daily routine happens like "Clockwork."

"Majesty" brings to mind kings and their crowns and Magolor surely has something to say about that messy business! Does Marx have something to say too? Speaking of Marx, if Magolor was going to be a king, you can't forget the existence of the court's jester!

Day 5: "Control" and "Mischief"

The song is no longer known as "Under My Control" but this word's relevant! Do they have full "Control" over their powers? Can they control their feelings for each other? Can Magolor control his evil laughter? Can Marx control himself in general? (They could be holding a pair of game controllers or fighting for a remote control!)

Let's face it! When do these two NOT get up to "Mischief"? Now, do they have different views on what's fair play in the prank game? Maybe you'll want to explore what their best victory against their chosen target was? ...What was their most humiliating defeat?

Day 6: "Chaos" and "Melancholy"

"Chaos" is a step up from mischief and tends to cause more problems for everyone involved; it has greater lasting effects too... Has their bond ever brought TOO much chaos? ...Or maybe Magolor lets Marx stay on the Lor and it turns into complete chaos?

Both have suffered game-ending defeats and with those come deep scars. What are they like when "Melancholy" strikes? Maybe their relationship has taken a melancholic turn? Could they be going through a rough patch or realizing for the first time there might be more to their relationship and don't want things to change?

Day 7: "Comfort" or "Merry"

When are they most comfortable together? Do the two have a favorite comfort spot to go to? Do they maybe hug (or punch!) a plushie of each other when in a bad mood? Maybe one has a surefire recipe to "Comfort" the other in sad times?

The major key compliment to comfort's minor key is "Merry!" What gets them laughing so hard they can't stop? What's a favorite event or landmark in their life they'll never forget? Or you could throw Marx into Merry Magoland with Magolor and see what happens!

[see-arcane]

I think the issue with Renfield is that Dracula primarily hunts for young blood. Every single older person, like Mr Swales or [redacted] and [redacted] he simply murders conventionally.

I'd say he does prefer young blood as a matter of either taste and/or preference in collection, but Renfield's situation--specifically wanting to join Dracula in his condition with all its promise of immortality and power--probably rubs the Count's hackles the wrong way for a more specific reason.

We've seen him inhale a ship's crew without any mind games reserved for anyone but the final unlucky survivors, the First Mate and the Captain. However old or young the sailors were, they all got slaughtered. The First Mate may have been intended as a conscripted party; just for the pleasure of inflicting the condition on a victim who knows and fears exactly what that state entails. Hence the First Mate committing suicide by the sea rather than risk Dracula's 'welcome.' We never learn the First Mate's age; only that he chose death rather than risk whatever Dracula intended for him.

We've also seen him work with willing laborers in the form of the men who came to fill and move the earth boxes at the castle. Be it for pay, or under duress, or both, these hired men did the work the Count asked of them and laughed at the sight of a victim of their employer begging for help. However happily or grudgingly, these guys were on the Count's team. Dracula can function in a symbiotic relationship with others when he needs/wishes to...

...but none of those men were vampires. Which brings us back to Renfield.

Renfield is a middle-aged man bound to an asylum cell who promises fealty to the Count as his master in exchange for Dracula's accepting/turning him. As yet, there's no immediate benefit to be gained by acknowledging him. Certainly none to be gained by turning him. Specifically because Renfield wants it.

How old is Dracula? How many times do you think he's encountered those like Renfield, pulling at his cloak like a child at mother's aprons strings, begging for a share of his power without realizing the tradeoff? Or worse, knowing and not caring?

We're going to see exactly what Dracula's version of vampirism does to a turned victim in this book. It's not pretty. It is, as some folks have suggested, a turning up of impulse and id to the highest power, with all the violent carelessness that entails. It turns good, virtuous, self-sacrificing souls into vicious funhouse mirror versions of themselves, enslaved to Dracula, but ultimately as blithely focused on What I Want Right Now as the Brides were in the castle.

Now consider what would happen if Dracula went around turning, say, business moguls. Hedonistic aristos. Gluttons. Cutthroats. Individuals hungry for power at the cost of others' lives, regardless of species. Renfield is thankfully not striking too high on the food chain as of yet.

But Dracula can scent what Renfield has the potential for as surely as Renfield detected his arrival. He will never risk turning said potential into its worst possible form by way of vampirism. If he did, his little binge on the Demeter would look like a mere cheat day compared to what a full-blown vampiric Renfield would do to an entire dock's worth of bodies.

We've seen already that Dracula has a hell of a time just keeping the Weird Sisters in line, and those are just three girls who we can assume he's had a hold of for potentially centuries. Regardless of any oaths of loyalty from the living man, Renfield would be a bottomless pit the moment he turned, taking up all of Dracula's focus in trying to stop him from devouring the countryside in a spree.

And that would just be Renfield. What would he do with a whole colony made from the foundation of less-than-sterling individuals? Even as the biggest fish in the pond, Dracula's would-be conquest would turn into a massacre of merely non-saintly parties turned into outright demons.

All of which is a very longwinded way of saying Dracula is choosy over more than youth, pretty faces, and the fun of a good mind game. He has to be choosy about a prospective new vampire's spiritual status too.

If Jonathan had just been some asshole, or even just a flatly ordinary man, not only would he not have lasted the two months in the castle, he'd never have been targeted for turning. If Lucy was just some snobbish beauty with a lucrative medical condition, she'd have been dead the first night Dracula called her to him. But they were and are good people; and they were and are afraid of him, consciously or subconsciously. They do not want what he means to give them.

And for cruelty, coveting, conquest, and caution's sake, that's exactly why Dracula forces it on them.

[new-tella-us]

I have awoken with A N G S T

Okay so I couldn't figure out a good Sam angst but I did figure out a good universal angst!

So, as the asshole father he is, the Demon Lord decides to pull some mind fuckery using Aezera again but this time it's all of his sons in the human world. Also let's assume this is some sort of non-romance route but the boys stay or the harem route.

Now, this is ambitious. The Demon Lord is going to run Aezera's magic into the ground for this attempt and won't be able to pull this stunt again for a long time so he's gotta make this stick. He's going to put his sons through-

Wonderland Hell

Their perception of reality is twisted and warped into this alternate reality bringing out their worst fears and these dark versions of themselves that hunt them in their attempt to turn the actual boys into them.

Each world is themed: James is in a palace of slowly melting gold. Erik is in the ocean with the terrain being sharp and uninhabitable. Sam is in a forest with the greenery moving on their own and invading his space. Matthew is in a cave of crystals, their reflective surfaces showing a funhouse like set of reflections that distort what he looks like. Damien is in an empty greyed world like those placeholder games; only the paintings and mirrors are here -all reflecting some version of Damien- and they start to come to life like his clones.

The longer they are in this wonderland hell and the harder they fight, the deeper they fall into their father's trap. And what is the ultimate goal? To slowly take over his sons' minds to use them as puppets. If he changes their perception enough, he can get them to do whatever he wants. And to test that theory, he wants his sons to kill the owner of the house they stay in. He knows if they kill Mika, they'd snap. All of them. Plus it would just be funny to watch so, when Mika goes to check on the boys, he changes their perception of Mika. She now looks like the Demon Lord and they attack her with the same power they would use to fight their father.

Mika can only dodge as the dining room gets torn up from the fight but she knows that she can't dodge all five of them forever. She needs to find the root of the issue and FAST. She looks around the room and finally notices the mirror, the warped figure in it and how it laughs at the scene. She also notices the gemstone on the mirror glowing dimly. She knows she has to get to the mirror but she'll have to go through the boys first. She takes her chance and runs past each boy but (since this is still the Sam angst thing, he's gotta be prioritized) Sam manages to get one good hit on her. Yeah that arm is broken.

Nevertheless, she fights back the pain and breaks the crystal on the mirror. The magic fades from the boys' minds and they see the damage they've done. It's horrifying to look at the results. The room is torn to shreds, magic weapons are embedded in the floor and walls, and most terrifyingly, Mika is injured. Any semblance of denial they could conjure is shattered when Damien's mindreading reveals that they have been attacking her this entire time. And as a last nail in the coffin, the Demon Lord -salty at losing but seeing an opportunity- using the last remnant of his spell to tell his sons that this event was them going mad like him.

If this was targeted at anyone else all of them, James especially, would note that this isn't how madness works. Madness is more like a slowly growing mold, not an instant effect. But because of their own deep seeded fear of becoming their father, this was an effective way to mess with their psyche and make them unable to trust themselves or each other.

Meanwhile, despite being injured, Mika catches on to the mind fuckery that was going on here so she's, ironically, the only one who isn't concerned about the boys going mad. Instead she's concerned about the thing trying to control them.

[little-engineer-who-cant]

Jason has an identity crisis, tries to fuck his way out of all his feelings and fails miserably.

Part 1 of Sirens Scream Names Forgotten by Tomorrow, Laid to Rest in Infinity

(also posted under cut)

“Be kind to the jaded souls, the ones with jagged edges and bones weary and crumbling. Be gentle with them not because you may break them to pieces with one wrong touch, not because you may cut yourself on their serrated fingers, but because the world has never known to be gentle with them. Because they have never known to be gentle with themselves.”

- don’t you think they’ve suffered enough? (j.p.)

It’s easy to slip away from that warehouse in the chaos of his own trap springing, leaving the hero and his newest child soldier with nothing but his laughter ringing in their ears. For all of Batman’s tech, his strength, his mind, there’s no way for a living and breathing man to track a phantom that doesn’t want to be found. Dead men tell no tales and all that.

(Oh, but you do.)

That part hadn’t been planned, but he’s more than a little smug about handling it as smoothly as he did. Even unprepared, there was just too much that he knew about Bruce and wasn’t that just unsettling to old Batsie?

(You wanted him to know you, didn’t you? Wanted him to see past the mask.)

(Shut up, it’s not time.)

A wrench like Bruce had a certain amount of unpredictability, that was true. Humans usually did. But to fucking show up personally for a seemingly small potatoes villain like him and not just send that little shit of a replacement Robin like he’d been anticipating… you’ve changed your game a bit, huh old man? No, he’s apparently now made just enough of a name for himself that the Bat himself wanted to talk. At least the talking part hadn't changed. Same as always, it was about the smokescreen, the show. The act of making Bruce feel better about himself, like he had tried to deescalate the situation but any violence that resulted was always someone else’s fault. Never his. They all forced his hand, you see?

(Like you’re trying to now.)

What a fucking joke , like the old man would ever say something worth hearing. Trying to be reasonable, through heavy handed threats of grievous bodily harm, how the fuck did I ever go along with that? Being a child was only so much of an excuse. He’d been old enough then to understand the words that were being thrown about, he’d just been too caught up in being the Robin to Batman that he hadn’t cared about the meanings like he does now. Being on the receiving end makes him look more closely at this warped funhouse mirror that’s become his… life? Unlife? 

Whatever. The specifics of his… situation … are too complicated to parse through his feelings on those right now. Not when all he wants to do is take his now warm and living fist and slam it into Bruce’s face for having the fucking nerve to bring another child into this, like Jason meant nothing. Just the first body in a God knows how long of a line of them to come. Some kind of demented conga line of dead birds; maybe he’s more like the Joker than he wants to think he is and that thought makes him snort a bitter huff of amusement under his breath then grimace at the ache in his ribs. 

(He’s a vampire bat, maybe, they feed on birds.)

(Fuck.)

That’s a whole other can of worms that he is not looking into right now. Bad enough his carcass was replaced so easily. Even worse if it was planned.

If he goes down that line of thought, he might light this whole city on fire and leave Bruce screaming in the ashes, bleeding out from a thousand cuts. 

No, no, no, he’s got a plan already and that’s bleeding this city dry and watching Bruce try to desperately revive its picked over cadaver the way he never tried to revive Jason’s before he gives the old shit the mercy of a bullet-

(Maybe you’re the vampire.)

-just because that’s justice . And that’s all the Batman’s after, right? All he’s ever been after, if all the lines he fed to his Robins-

(His food-)

-could be believed. 

(Chewed you up and spit you in the ground, he’ll do it again and again-)

His fist raps the alley wall a few times, enough to sting and drive back the looming cloud that threatens to swirl around and become a living typhoon. There’ll be blood under his gloves from how tight he’s clenched his fist, splitting open old wounds, but that’s fine. What’s blood loss going to do? Kill him? He’s no stranger to handling a bruise or a hundred, that’s par for the course in his life now. Has been for years. A couple cracked ribs and some bloody knuckles are not going to slow him down. 

No, what really fucking stings is whatever is left in that cavity inside his chest, the hole that he used to think was patched when Bruce brought him into that huge house, when Alfred smiled and snuck him cookies. 

(That was the fucking dream, wasn’t it? Warm house, warm food, then you get the shit beat out of you to go fight crime.)

Turnabout is fair play and all that nonsense.

The side of his fist finds that same brick wall but he doesn’t smash into it, just rests his gloved knuckles against the abrasive surface. No use breaking his hand for a momentary fit of rage, it won’t help anything and he needs to keep his head on straight. There’s a plan here and he hasn’t gotten this far by losing his cool. It’s just a grounding point that he presses against, one that won’t crumble no matter how hard he shoves. It’s exactly what he needs because God knows there isn’t a person he can take this out on-

(Yes there is.)

(Shut up.) 

But his body turns towards his magnetic north anyways and he doesn’t stop it. It was a token protest anyways. Truth will out and all that bullshit. Well, Batman didn’t get the truth tonight but someone else will. Someone else will look this horrid amalgamation in the eye and either run or treat him just as gingerly as Talia did. Like the weapon he’d spent so long honing himself to be, the monster he’d welcomed into that place that-

That still hurts. It still hurts, in that cavity inside. The part he never thought had a chance in hell of crawling out of that hole and back into his sad sack of a meat suit. Jason Todd went into the ground a whole boy, the Red Hood emerged a warped reimagining of that little corpse, grown strong and tough and-

(And you failed.)

One day, he’d finish that fucking clown. One day, he’d dig the bastard a pit to Hell next to what used to be Jason Todd’s grave, but first, he had a bigger score to settle. In the end, in the here and now, this wasn’t about the Joker or even about Jason fucking dying. It was about Tim goddamn Drake.

Because what had changed, really? What changed? Nothing. He’s died and come back, he’s been buried and dug himself out with his fucking belt buckle and nothing changed. Not even Robin changed. Tim Drake is just another child following Bruce, spouting his words, punching the people Bruce points at and all of them, both of us, were just replacements for Dick who was a replacement for the family Bruce lost. And none of them ever lived up to it, I died trying to be that and still failed to do that right-

It’s as easy as breathing, though that’s a little painful right now, slipping up the wire-frame fire escape in the darkness. Never change, Gotham, never change. A last sweeping look over the city confirms that he’s alone. Or as alone as a log ever gets in a stacked fire pit, waiting for a match to drop. Or maybe this city’s already smoldering and he’s trying to frantically pour water on it.

(If water is gasoline maybe. Then you’d be God.)

(Shut. Up.)

His ribs ache as he slips into her apartment through a once locking window, confident no one is following him, not even the little shit in a stolen suit who’d tried so hard to get the drop on him. But the kid is just that, still a kid. Jason’s been in the game for a long time, not even Bruce knows how far his reach in Gotham goes now. This isn’t Batman’s city anymore, it’s Red Hood’s. It’s his. Bruce may fight crime, but Jason grew up embedded in it. He knows it in a way Bruce and his silver spoon never will, no matter how he studies its occupants. Because he isn’t one of them like Jason is. To a grown gutter urchin, these streets are home, their busted lights a balm to his soul, the screams of brakes and people alike a familiar lullaby. Even the muted throbbing in his face is familiar, almost a comfort of home. It’s certainly not the worst hit he’s ever taken, even discounting the obvious comparison.

Her bedroom is empty like he knew it would be. It’s Friday, she doesn’t work tomorrow and it’s not even that late. Barely past eleven. Really, he’s impressed with himself, taking an early night off. His ribs will hurt like a bitch tomorrow and his cheek might be fractured from the stupid kid’s pretty solid punch before he split, but the mask did it’s job, taking most of what might have otherwise knocked him down. And he’d left the Bat and his replacement-

(God damn you, did I ever mean anything to you besides being the means to your end?)

-frazzled and afraid. A few more steps in this grand plan and the truth would come out, the web he’d been weaving around The World’s Greatest Detective would close and there would be no way out. Either Bruce would pull the trigger, or Jason would. If you pull it old man, it might not stick. Is that what you want?  

At this point he doesn’t know who he’s talking to, his imaginary Bruce or himself.

Where is she? He needs a distraction from these swirling thoughts, a way out of the growing labyrinth in his head. She’s always been that since he found her, a light in the dark, a soothing balm over an open wound. She’s not part of this world, with its shrouds and lies and agendas, she’s just a girl living her life and unfortunate enough to have found the devil on her doorstep. 

Crazy enough to have let him in, despite all the warning signs.

The whisper soft humming from the dark abyss beyond the doorway echoes in his ears like a siren song, alerting him to her location and he smiles under the mask. Drawing him into her embrace again, the only comfort he had that didn’t come from watching the life leave someone’s eyes. The only warmth he felt that didn’t involve him being elbow deep in someone’s chest cavity to feel it, didn’t need a slit artery or have a-

(bomb as my pyre, feeling flesh melt, unable to move, unable to scream-)

-match burning down to his fingertips just to feel something other than apathy and bone melting rage. 

He watches her from the doorway, silent and shadowed. There’s no moon tonight, no star bright enough to turn on him and expose his presence or even grace him with a shadow of his own. No streetlights. She’s an office worker, not a millionaire, so she’s not in the part of the city where they keep replacing those when they inevitably get shot out. But the shirt she’s wearing is light grey, mine, she’s wearing my… Jason’s shirt, and the walking shell of Jason Todd isn’t the one who watches it float around the room like a ghost, flickering at the hem in time with the movement of her legs, the back vanishing and reappearing in time with the swinging of her loose braid.

Blue light washes over her face, staining her lips as she clicks on the kettle. It takes every ounce of his considerable self control not to stalk over, not to press his fingers, mouth, entire being against those lips to make sure they’re warm with life and breath, not washed out and cold like a corpse. He’s seen too many, he’s made even more-

(you’ve been one too, don’t you remember what it was like trying to move those stiff limbs? It took you hours to feel again, trapped in that box-)

-and if there is one certainty in life it’s that if she keeps welcoming into her sanctuary, she’ll be another one to add to the list of his sins. His hands aren’t clean and she isn’t safe. This was a mistake, he should not have come here, he should have done what he usually does. Rampage around another supervillain or five for old times sake. Grit his teeth and put his shoulder back to the grindstone to burrow his way deeper into Gotham’s underworld, chiseling away at the Batman’s iron grip until he replaces it with his titanium one instead. But no, he’s an idiot . So, he’s here, in her apartment in the dead of night, uninvited.

Jason Todd, the shy and uncomfortable man she met at a fun little nightclub, is not watching her. 

The Red Hood, Gotham’s latest war dog, is.

(Is he?) 

Sometimes, he wonders if there’s a difference anymore but it doesn’t matter right now. Not when they both want her. Because they’re both me but who the fuck is that anymore? Jason’s dead, the Red Hood is Joker’s, what am I?

She notices him, of course she does. She’s too perceptive not too. Sometimes, he wonders what happened to make her that way, wants to ask about the small, oddly scattered scars like knife wounds- 

(too similar to yours) 

-that dot her body, but she doesn’t ask about his disappearances, his odd hours, the blood and death that have burrowed so deep into him that they’re practically lovers, so he keeps his mouth shut. Her secrets are her own, God knows he has plenty. Whatever has happened to her, it’s tuned her into the smallest shifts in her carefully created atmosphere, her protective bubble, her sanctuary. She notices him and there’s no telling what gave him away. The ragged breathing behind his mask, the soft creak of leather when his fists clenched, some other presence that he can feel clinging to him like a second skin and dripping from his lips like blood as he pants- 

It’s a phantom, given life by his every exhale, moving in a disjointed and phony copy of his own limbs, but it’s his and his alone. Rage made manifest, always closer on nights like these, ones where the acrid scents of smoke and gunpowder and iron cling to him even after a shower, like it's an expensive cologne and he wonders how she hasn’t guessed the truth. Or maybe she has. She’s smart, too smart, too perceptive not to. 

(Then why doesn’t she run from me?)

Robin would have been good for her to find. Even an older, jaded, more independent Robin like Dick would have been better. But no, she’d picked the worst possible one, the skeletal remains of a bird too young to fly before it was launched from the nest to fall, to struggle, to die. There was no feasible way she could have known, sidling up to him and flashing him that smile, ignoring every warning sign with the single minded determination of a self-destructive spiral, but shouldn’t she have seen? Seen the blood under his fingernails-

(they’re clean, you wear gloves)

-seen the fangs in his mouth-

(they’re normal teeth)

-heard the growl in his voice that screamed run, run, run-  

(Why didn’t you run?)

No, she’d looked into the lion’s mouth and smiled without fear, run delicate fingers through his mane, put her number in his phone and yanked him into her addictive embrace. She should have found Robin and maybe she’d find that little brat one day but right now she has a nightmare made flesh in her kitchen.

His hand flexes, wrapped around the butt of the gun holstered on his thigh like it’s a child’s comfort toy, not a deadly mechanism of destruction that he could so easily turn on her. Never, I never will . If a bullet kills her, it won’t be his, even if it’s because of him the trigger is pulled. Small comforts. The other fist clenches harder at the bitter thought, like the pressure will stop him from doing something even stupider than standing here. Like he can stop himself from reaching out, a demon to an angel, falling further over his abyss of damnation to reach her divine light.

So she notices. So she turns, so she sees. Sees him, towering in the shadows like he wants to melt into them. Sees the red covering his jaw and mouth and nose and cheeks, the black covering his eyes, the hood above all that. Sees the kevlar, the weapons, the gloves, the rage pulsing from his skin like a living being. Sees the truth of the man she’s been letting into her life and into her bed, a reaper come to take his due, coming here was a mistake-

He sees the truth on her face, the flicker of comprehension and complex emotion that cannot be anything but fear . Hears it, in the way her breath catches on an inhale that sounds like a gunshot between them, her to him, echoing over the actual gunshots outside. This was a mistake, you’ve fucked up-

Then, she’s slowly stepping toward him, like he’s an animal she’s trying not to spook. You’ve fucked up, Todd . This nice, kind, normal girl who was somehow able to see whatever shell of Jason was left under all of his Red Hood bravado, now being confronted with the truth that they are one in the same and something else entirely and fuck, he’s just fucked this whole thing up, isn’t that what you wanted? You knew she would never be safe-

If she runs, he won’t blame her even one bit. He’ll let her go, even though she threatens his whole plan because she knows now. But the memories of her fingers twisted with his as she dragged Jason Todd along a park path, joy in her eyes and laughter on her lips even when he stumbled… He’ll let her go. His hands are weapons that Bruce shaped long ago, people always choose to avoid him instead of crossing his path but she’s headstrong in her lack of fear. He’s a man to her, nothing more, and even if she runs from the devil, he’ll let her escape this one time just for that kindness.

She doesn’t run.

She also doesn’t take his hand.

She doesn’t touch him at all.

No, Anna kneels in front of him, eyes not wavering from his face even as her mouth is level with his groin. Jason doesn’t dare breathe, what the fuck is she doing and she doesn’t break eye contact as she opens her mouth and presses a filthy kiss to the front of his pants, tongue dragging up his inseam to mouth at his belt buckle as she looks up at him and blinks once, a question. 

There’s a breathless beat where she stares up at him and Jason does his best to play off his surprise as stretching the moment like he’s considering her offer, like he wouldn’t die a thousand deaths to take her up on it.

(She didn’t run. Take what you can get.)

The syrup slow moment passes as he follows her desire into whatever abyss this is. This is why he came here, to forget. And it’s so, so easy to forget when she’s smiling at him. 

Anything else can come later. 

—

He wakes up the next morning sore . Both from the strain of fighting those who he doesn’t want to fucking think about right now and the intensity of his worst, or maybe smartest, spur of the moment decision that followed. 

“Shit,” he breathes, watching his breath puff out in the chilly air. Her heat isn’t working again, fucking cheap-ass landlord . He rolls onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes to stop the assault of the full daytime outside, taking a deep breath. 

Last night was a line that he crossed at full fucking sprint, he should not have come here in full Red Hood costume after a confrontation with Batman and his replacement-  

Jason takes a slow, calming breath. Rage and panic won’t help anything, it’ll just cloud his judgment. And he’s already clouded enough because he came here last night instead of running to ground in a safe house like he absolutely should have . It doesn’t matter that he lost any potential of a tail, that he was clear of trackers, he had promised himself that first night that he would not get Anna mixed up in this. She’s a good, nice girl and has no business being close to him but he’s fucking pathetic and she cares about him and he’s drawn to her sweetness like a moth to flame. Knowing it’s going to burn him but doing it anyway. 

There’s a part of him that knows she’s known something this whole time. He’s subtle but she’s smart. And now he’s blown the whole charade, breaking into her apartment at ass o’clock at night in full Red Hood regalia… god damn it, Todd. One person who cared about whatever’s left of you . It was a mistake, she’ll see that in the light of day. The bravery the dark gave her will fade. She’s a practical woman, she’ll know it’s too dangerous to let him stay.

But he’s a grown ass man who has to face the music he wrote, he can’t wallow in her bed forever. All his clothes, and his fucking mask God damn it all, are strewn in the other rooms. His dick twitches at the memory and he hates himself a little, mind-blowing sex does not make what you did okay, own up to it and face her like a man. So he takes a deep breath, pulls his arm away from his face and looks at the empty side of the bed. She’s probably been up for a while now. Rises with the sun and doesn’t even think of stopping her movements until after it sinks. Maybe she’ll give me a secret for a secret?

But that’s a hypocrite talking. Just because he busted into her apartment and basically handed her his head on a silver platter does not mean she’s going to do the same. And if she came to hide out in Gotham of all places…

If he digs, it won’t be hard to find out. But where will he be then? What good would it do? No, this is fine. 

She’s Anna, that’s all that matters. 

He’s… someone, but in her bed and in her life, he feels a bit closer to human. Maybe not Jason Todd, maybe never again, but… closer to the dream of it that almost feels like a memory on the good days.

He sighs, then stands up, rubbing a hand over the scruff on his jaw, mumbling to himself about needing to shave, then goes over to ‘his’ drawer in her dresser, the one where she keeps all the clothes she’s stolen from him over the months they’ve been… whatever they are. Whatever you can be when you’ve been lying to her, you bastard. Can’t be a relationship, that’s for fucking sure. 

Maybe it can be.

Fed up with his own internal monologue, the very thing he came here to escape, he pulls out a pair of sweatpants and yanks them on, then runs a hand through his hair and looks in the mirror. Tired, he looks tired. Bruises on his ribs and scrapes on his arms, the beginnings of a shiner on one cheekbone from the little prick, a few hickeys scattered along his throat and collarbones. Stop stalling, he glares at his own reflection, then turns on his heel and stalks towards the bedroom door, opening it and stepping into the apartment before he loses what little nerve he has left. The King of Gotham, brought to his knees by a slip of a girl whose smile could melt ice in a snowstorm. Christ, Todd, what’ve you come to?

She’s in the kitchen again, her kettle heating up for morning tea. His heart aches as he leans in the doorway, folding his arms and watching the way his shirt rides up her thighs as she walks, a slight hitch in her step, the way her braid can’t cover all the marks he left on her throat last night, the way she stirs honey into her tea, a sure sign that her throat is raw from- He breathes through his nose to banish the image before he pops a completely inappropriate boner.

Instead he refocuses on how the sunlight catches the colors in her lovely hair, highlighting the lighter brown streaks hidden away in the dark color and showing that it is, in fact, brown and not black. A deep chocolate color that makes him think of syrup or rich, dark wood of expensive furniture that no one wants to ruin. She’s beautiful, humming to herself and smiling as she takes a sip of this still-too-hot tea like she always does, hissing a bit but then making a small noise of satisfaction that it’s just right. Taking the tea bag out and disposing of it, turning around with a bright smile and- 

“Hey,” she says, still smiling, eyes still shining and crinkling in the corners in genuine delight, her voice a little raspy, “morning sleepyhead.” 

“Morning,” he rumbles out, arms still crossed, waiting for her to tell him to get the hell out before he drags her into his complicated mess of a life- 

She holds out a hand, sipping her tea again. “Come’ere.” 

He stares at the extended hand, glances over to the open area where her living room is. He sees his Red Hood suit, carefully folded and placed on the coffee table, his mask resting on top. Bold and open in the broad daylight, not hidden away or uncomfortably left untouched. Cared for. 

He looks back at her and her open smile, her quiet, understanding eyes, still crinkled at the edges, happy. Slowly, he straightens, unfolds his arms, waits for her hand to draw away, for her to flinch. 

She doesn’t. He takes her hand and steps into her sunlight with a smile, with something in his chest that might be the memory of hope.

(Neither of them see their shadows lurking in the corners, looming larger than them, just as entwined. How hers looms over his in the bright rays they bask in, the darkness swallowing the sun. Just as hungry.

He may be the Red Hood, but Silena is a wolf.)