#staying in school was probably the only way to guarantee it and now i fucked it up and dont even know if i have the ability to ride anymore

[kokikwii]

I need to MOVE so BADLY ashland is BAD and I HATE WISCONSIN

[bloggingboutburgers]

cw: discussions of bullying and aphobia

Hearing aroace peoples' existential crises over their friends discussing crushes, as someone who was socially isolated and severly bullied for their whole childhood and most of their adolescence so had NO friendgroup until adulthood and NO community or inclusion in literally anything (and when it came to sex and romance the other kids explicitly considered my potential involvement in either to be impossible / laughible because of how "weird" they found me (my autistic traits before I even realised I'm autistic)), felt like starving while listening to someone else complain about the food they're actively eating.

Food intolerances and dislike of different foods (as metaphor for being aro/ace) ARE important and difficult to grapple with when you're expected to eat specific foods in specific proportions at different times - but man did it sting until I realised why I felt that way and gave myself a talking to since my trauma doesn't justify belittling the very real struggles of aroace people.

I guess since the choice between 'stay alone or conform' was never really a choice because I was rejected no matter how cis straight or allo I was it taught me to go "fuck it" and accept myself regardless of what other people do or say (which ironically has lead to me becoming dramatically popular all of a sudden at uni, which has been weird to get used to since I have literally no experience with any of this - platonic or otherwise - which did lead to some advantage being taken of me but f*ck it we ball ^^'). And I guess it's just been difficult understanding why anyone would care so much about whether they're "normal" or not? You really have nothing to gain from that, safety is not guaranteed in conformity so best to live aroace and damn all aphobes to hell if they have a problem with that.

It's a mindset I'll never understand and that's only ok now insofar as that lack of understanding no longer results in misplaced anger at people who, for a time, I had once considered spoilt, ungrateful and out of touch. Basically, I'm full of sh*t and to every aroace person reading this you deserve good friends that actually respect you for who you are and do not even TRY to get you to change your mind about sex or romance. Have a lovely day x

Sincerely,

An aggressive emotional support anon

I'm genuinely sorry for all the hardships you went through. I don't mean to equate at all, truthfully from reading you and considering I WAS asked some of those questions as a kid regardless (the "who's your crush" bullshit and whatnot), it definitely sounds like I had it less hard than you did, but... I was bullied in elementary school and middle school, also not necessarily because I was aroace (I don't know why it happened really, I don't know if anyone ever knows, I boil it down to... me being me and there being something fundamentally wrong with me ig), and I definitely also get some of those feelings of "oh boo hoo you call that struggle" boiling in me when people discuss their own past struggles sometimes, so... Yeah, every one person's experience is unique, but I can at the very least very much sympathize.

I think a way it manifests in me is that I now have that compulsive, debilitating fear of being "othered" in any way, shape, or form, so I guess being aroace doesn't help my case. But at the same time... Well, like you brilliantly put it, when you're in a situation like that, no matter what you do, you won't be accepted anyway, and having that knowledge back then is probably also what lead me to figure myself out as aroace so early in life. Because I was treated as this much of an outsider, I ironically had that much room in my own head to form my own identity, far apart from others and the need to conform. Yeah, that identity may include a "piece of shit that doesn't deserve to be supported of part of a group" side that's been forced in, buried deep down and can't be erased, but... It also includes asexual and aromantic, and it's been cemented so hard from so early with such self-affirmation that later down the line, it saved me from a lot of stuff. I never had to force myself into a romantic or sexual relationship because I was undoubtably aroace – and people saw me as an outsider and an eyesore anyway. I spent years of being scared to go to school or out in the street every day, but later down the line, somehow, I feel it saved me from doing so many things I wouldn't have wanted to do.

...Bleh, sorry, didn't mean to turn this into me-me-me crap when you had the courage and sincerity of not only showing your experience, but finding the strength to show more love, understanding and support than a lot of people probably cared to give you for so long, despite all the pain you felt for so long. I guess I just wanna say... This take is definitely inspiring, so thank you on behalf of myself and others I'm sure, but also... I hope that, for yourself, you're also managing to own what you lived through in a way that allowed you to affirm yourself more strongly (it sounds like you are, I hope it IS the case), and most importantly, I hope you're in a much better place in your life now and you'll never have to return to that level of loneliness again.

[444ileen]

♡ sweet loving ~ hinata shoyo ♡ no.1

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ time-skip era! angst, cursing, heartbreak >_<

[no.2 click here]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“let’s…break up [name]”

hinata shoyo was going to be your highschool sweetheart. at least that was you and everyone was expecting. until he “kindly” dumped you last minute and left to go pursue his dreams in a whole other country.

whats worse is he made the decision for you both it came out of no where there was no room for you to argue.

“let’s break up [name]” he said with a sad smile.

“hinata what the fuck are you literally saying?”

“it’s better this way…i don’t want what we have to be ruined when i leave i’m not even sure how long i’m gonna stay in brasil i can’t do that to you”

“you—hinata you literally leave tomorrow?!? why are you just doing this now it isn’t fair we decided we planned…”

“i do not want to hurt you or anything”

“hinata” your voice begins to crack a bit as you feel a lump in your throat

“i know i know baby” he quickly hugs you tight “i love you…i’ll see you later”.

bittersweet.

when you woke up the next day to go with him to see him off you found out he told you the wrong time. you didn’t even get to say goodbye.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

there’s a limit of things people can take. it’s been two years and you can bare the sight of seeing hinata happy without you in his life. truly you support him and all but there’s an ugly part inside of you that tears apart when he posts about how amazing his life is. you unfollowed him but can’t help but check on him every once in awhile.

you hardly took his calls or responded to his messages. he’s tried and never gave up it’s less frequently now but you gotta hand it to him he is determined to still be friends.

instead focusing on school and anything that will take your mind off of him.

“hello earth to [name]”

“what?”

“geez did you listen to a word i said?”

you were dozing off in your class almost even falling asleep. staying up late will be the death of you.

“nope”

“i said let’s go out it’s friday!”

“i’m not sure about that [f/n]”

“ehh but you had so so much fun last time”

“i blacked out and ended up waking up with like ten boxes of pizza!”

“pfft—”

“it’s literally not funny (it is) we literally ate pizza for weeks”

“i’m sick of pizza this time order something different”

“[f/n]!”

“okay okayy i’ll make sure you don’t black out like last time heyyy you can’t say i didn’t take care of you cause i did!”

[f/n] was a friend you made when you first started school. honestly the people at karasuno were the only people you had made friends with but you distant yourself from them quite a bit. although you still go out with yamaguchi, tsukkisima and yachi whenever you guys could align your schedules.

with much convincing from [f/n]. you sat at the bar watch your friend flirt with some guy to guarantee free drinks.

ding! ding! ding!

your phone got your attention as you shoot your friend a smile.

[6 messages from karasuno ★ gc]

[8 messages from pookies ♡︎ gc]

[4 messages from yachi ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚]

[1 message from unknown maybe:hinata shoyo]

smile dropped to so fast…

night officially ruined.

✎: hello! i will be making this possibly into multiple parts :3 i love love love hinata pls i have time skip hinata brain rot and decided to just write it out to pass the time. i know it’s probably not even good lmaooo tell me why im so scared to post.

[atom-system]

INTRO POST

"Hello, I’m Apricot. I am the host and try to run our other blog. This is the first time I’ve let Kiwi and Aspen run a blog with me so I hope they stay appropriate." -Apricot

—NOTES->

"DO NOT send us asks about donations. Asks like that will be immediately deleted. Our patience is running short in this respect"

-Kiwi

[ all other info under cut ]

"We are all minors and some of us are asexual so please keep things SFW and otherwise appropriate. That said, me and others do swear frequently [ especially and specifically Kiwi ], I try to tag posts with swears but I can not guarantee the others will as well. Just to get this out of the way we believe we are an endogenic system [ we don’t remember enough of our life to know for sure ]. I know a lot of other beings either dislike, hate, or have mixed feelings on endogenic systems. If you dislike our existence then block. We have a lot on our plate trying to juggle school, online presence, and learning/processing disorders and we don’t want to excessively upset other beings."

"All known members of the system are queer in either a gender way or sexuality way or both. We talk to each other like siblings, aka; petty arguments and such."

-Apricot

—TAG NOTES->

//atom system// - general non-reblog tag

Another being says - reblog tag

Apricot barks - anytime Apricot talks

Aspen whispers - anytime Aspen talks

Kiwi swears - anytime Kiwi talks

[name] adds - Anytime [name] adds to a reblog

-[name] - tag version of sign off

[name] replaced with "aspen" or someone.

[ can you tell aspen is writing this, hehe ]

———————— INTROS ->

—APRICOT->

"I’m lesbian, demiromantic, asexual, and demiflux. I have a lot of labels, many I won’t list yet because I’m still questioning. I apologize if I’m not very coherent in my introduction, I tend to info dump and ramble. I use bug/paw pronouns as of right now, you may use he/they but I heavily prefer the first set. I have pretty bad anxiety and a lot of other undiagnosed mental and physical disorders.

[ potentially ADHD, Chronic Fatigue Disorder, Autism, and probably more. I am not diagnosed though, I only say this because of what I’ve been told by non-professionals ( with these disorders ), what I’ve read in my hours of research, and tracking my own behaviors ]

We know this is a lot to read, sorry, you’ve still got two to go haha ,:]. I hope you like it here, take care!"

-Apricot

—ASPEN->

"Aspen isn't ready to do this yet. That said I will use the older writing I did for bug"

"She/bug. Lesbian & demiromantic. Most positive of us. Bug tries to keep the peace between us. She brings a lot of shifts but they are less likely to cause dysphoria. [ bug is basically the little happy kitten/puppy ] We think bug is the reason why we feel shorter when coping or happy. Bug fronts when we’re happy because it feels better. Aspen is our source of positive coping habits. It’s probably bug’s fault we have so many creative hobbies.”

-Apricot

"me and apricot and very similar. so much so that sometimes we'll think apricot is fronting when its actually me. our chronic fatigue and light sensitivity is worse when i front though. "

"oh by the way, aspen doesnt really want to introduce bugself. :3 ill just say that i use all lowercase and never use apostrophes and stuff. we all use [] for parentheses."

-aspen

—KIWI->

"I’m Kiwi, fuck pronouns, my name changes whenever I want. I’m bigender and aromantic. You can use it/its if you want to but I really don’t care." -Kiwi

[baelpenrose]

Project Praetorian 41: New Arrivals Part III: Commonality

Micah talks religion with Mark and Molly, and Mia works on language barrier issues. As I do not speak spanish (though ironically @writing-with-olive does) we wound up telling the sequence from Mia's perspective, with the note that everyone else speaking "broken" English from Mia's PoV is a translation convention.

Beta read by @canyouhearthelight and @writing-with-olive TW For kidnapping in flashbacks. Historical note for anyone who doesn't get the in-joke in Mia's flashback: the US Government has a long and sordid history of using Central American and specifically El Salvadorian cartels as mercenaries to do the CIA's bidding.

Micah

Getting off the VTOL was a relief - his dad had been an engineer, even if the obvious accent made it hard for him to get work at any of the really big firms, and Micah had had to hear about the dangers of that kind of air transport more than once when his dad had held up a newspaper and talked about the Osprey. “Another crash! Rotary blades on the top and a jet engine! How did any company allow this out of R&D?”

He hadn’t been riding in one of those - thus why it had landed instead of crashing - but his father’s general distrust of VTOL craft in general had left an impression. And that Nazi asshole who wouldn’t shut the fuck up about his panic attack the whole trip hadn’t helped, even as he’d tried to stay calm by counting the stitches on the seatbelts.

At least Jared hadn’t found out he was the product of a mixed-faith marriage. He’d suffered racial slurs, he’d suffered Islamophobic ones, and he shuddered to imagine how much worse it would have been had Jared known he was half-Jewish. 

Then he was introduced to the people he’d be joining, heard the last name of the leader of the kids, and realized he was going to find out any minute - hopefully with violent consequences for Jared. 

The group of new arrivals was split up, and Micah found himself being pulled aside by the boy introduced as Mark Ascher, along with a redheaded girl introduced as Molly Harper. 

“Hey. So, welcome to Palatine base. You’ve probably been stuck at Aventine for a minute, and…actually, before we start, did they do any testing on any of you there? I know they have facilities there, Echo’s testing started there.”

Micah felt a surge of fear. “Testing? What…what are they testing for?”

Mark blinked. “Okay, that’s a no. They did not. We’ll cover that later - oy vey, at this point I’m gonna buy a camera on my next leave - make an orientation film.”

Micah looked between them and Molly glared. “I think that’d be…kind of a dick move. I don’t think I’d have adjusted as fast if Vergil hadn’t given me the tour.”

“Fair enough, but I never know where to start with this…”

Something clicked for Micah. “You’re not a New Yorker, right?”

“Bite your tongue. I’m from Boston.” 

“That’s what I thought, but you cursed in Yiddish, so I thought I’d check. Salaam.”

Recognition flashed in the other boy’s eyes, changing him all at once from a young man trying to be older and harder than he was to match responsibilities he never wanted to the kind of boy Micah wished he’d known more of in school - clever, quick to laugh, and easy to talk to. “Muslim?”

Micah nodded. 

Mark gave Micah a fast hug. “A relief to have someone else here who gets that at least. Now, I know that Kosher and Halaal are not exactly the same thing, and I have been working to keep kosher on military rations, but you came at a good time - we just got a lot more freedom to operate on our own, so you’re not dealing with the crap I was where it was something I more or less only kept on holidays because I didn’t have a guarantee of eating if I stuck to it consistently.”

“Holidays?”

“Oh, right. Uh. We don’t get them. Not just us, though, for once, I’ve been here for almost three years now and we didn’t get Christmas off from everything sucking. It’s a very nondenominational suck. Oh, talk to Leon, she’ll help you find some ways to keep your traditions while surviving here. All in it together and we do mean ‘all’ in it together. Which means you’re probably going to be asked to explain Eid, both of them, I had to explain Purim and Rosh Hashanna. The results of the whole detachment trying to celebrate each other’s holidays is…I mean it’s often hilariously bad but it winds up giving it more of a home feel than not bothering. And don’t expect help from the higher ups.”

Micah felt a strange mix of warmth and horror at the casual description of a lack of recognition of holidays of any kind. 

Molly suddenly asked a question. “Hey, actually, I have a question since I know Muslims have a holiday where they fast for a month and Lent is coming up…”

Micah spoke first. “My faith acknowledges exceptions for health reasons, I don’t know about yours…”

Molly shook her head. “I don’t have to give up all food, just meat from animals on land, and something else. Also from blood in general. The church used to enforce a ban on carrying arms during Lent.”

Mark took a breath. “I…I want, so badly, to not immediately reverse myself, but I am going to strongly suggest that our job itself is a health reason to not fast - I don’t think you can do a month only eating at the beginning and end of each night. I mean, I barely make it through training on Yom Kippur each year and that’s one day without food or water. I’m not saying you can’t, I am saying, before you decide, train with us, then decide if you can do that while fasting. And remember that combat is much, much worse.” 

He turned to Molly. “And…yeah, sorry. No. There’s no holiday any of us can skip a mission for. If it happens during Lent, or Yom Kippur, or Ramadan, or the High Holidays, or any other day when we are absolutely not supposed to be spilling blood, then…taboos get broken because we are keeping each other alive, and we’re too short on hands to have anyone sit out. I’m sorry.”

Micah felt a thrill of fear. “So. You keep saying ‘combat’ - what are we fighting? I saw a bunch of UN flags at Aventine. Are we going to be turned into supersoldiers to deal with terrorists or lock down nukes, or..?”

Mark looked at him, then doubled over laughing. Micah felt hurt, and Mark kept going, slowly taking a breath, then spoke. “Okay, okay, sorry, sorry, just…that’s what we thought for the longest time, just. Okay. no. The actual answer is so much dumber. No, see, we actually straight up get super powers, and we’re fighting aliens. Yeah, really.” 

Micah started laughing. It was a joke, it had to be a joke - but Molly’s face was deadly serious, and he slowly stopped laughing. “You’re for real. This is…”

“Yeah. Go figure.”

Micah sat down. “Alright, so…” 

“They’re real. I got scooped after an alien scouting party attacked Tanglewood music camp and wiped out my family and killed my best friend. I was the only survivor.”

“That was a fire, wasn’t…” Micah trailed off as he realized how stupid he sounded. No, obviously not. Obviously that would be the cover up. “Ya Allah.” 

Echo was calling to Molly, and Molly ran over to them, Micah noticing the tears in her eyes. 

“She lost everyone she loved in her first contact. We had another battle we were ready for and we beat them, pretty soundly but we’re…” Mark leaned back on the bench, tossing chicken and beans onto Micah’s plate. “It’s terrifying.”

“What’s the testing?”

“I’m going to explain and you are going to leave the swearing or the appeals to HaShem to the end because if you do it every time I say something awful we’re gonna be here a while.”  

Micah nodded, the ghost of a joke failing to cover the menace implied by Mark’s story.

“So. We get injected by some vile chemical that causes mutations. Before it can give us turbo-cancer or whatever, we strip down to underwear or completely, depending on how much of this we’ve already done, climb into machines that look like sealed MRI machines but are not, which then proceed to blast us with radiation from all over the spectrum. This breaks down the mutagen while also mutating you harder and in a more useful way. The reason you don’t get clothing later, we figured out, isn’t that it gives Koleth a clearer read, or that it blocks too much of the radiation, and I can’t believe we ever believed that, no. It’s actually that once you’re far enough along, they have to hit you with enough radiation at a weird enough frequency that clothing will catch fire. By then you’re changed enough that it doesn’t do anything but change you. They did not tell us this, by the way, Echo found out while poking around the scientists’ computers while she was breaking a captured alien machine. I do not know what this says about our ability to survive nuclear fallout so do not ask. I am terrified we will have the opportunity to find out.”

“Allah yahmina, what is this place?”

“Official answer: Imperator’s Palatine Base. Unofficial answer: The best argument I’ve yet encountered that my people are wrong and that hell is in fact a thing.” 

“How are you this calm about it?” Micah felt vaguely faint.

“You get used to it.” 

Mia

She hadn’t slept properly since those mercenary assholes had gotten a bag over her head and taken her north. She still wasn’t sure how or why they’d picked her, but from what she’d gotten out of the mercenaries - who were locals, when she’d screamed at them - they’d told her that the blood tests she’d gotten in the hospital had showed she could be helpful.

She didn’t know what the hell that meant, but she knew she had to get home, back to her mother, back to her brothers. She’d struggled to try to escape, but been told if she kept going she’d be knocked unconscious.

She remembered the mercenaries taking her to someone they clearly answered to, asking him if he wanted to keep her for other sale for a few days, and him shaking his head. “No. Some rich white American asshole already paid us a hundred thousand for her - with another hundred thousand promised if she’s undamaged. Apparently she’s got some rare gene that some fucked up American research firm wants to experiment on and they’re paying top dollar for test subjects.”

She had been kept in a dark room - though fed surprisingly well, apparently the cartel was interested in getting paid for the ‘undamaged’ part - and once she’d realized she wasn’t going to be sold to a brothel, assaulted, or shot because she was apparently already paid for by people who were capable of paying the cartel too much to throw her away, she started using it. 

By swearing up a storm at her captors and spitting on them every chance she got. 

Thus by the time she was dragged out of a warehouse, she had been gagged, and two white assholes were talking to her captor, offering him a suitcase - and shoving her onto a boat, which went a certain ways off the coast before she was put on a helicopter.

She remembered seeing her city - her country - fade away in the distance.

She’d been surrounded by assholes who refused to speak her language, except the man who had apparently commissioned her kidnapping by the cartel, who introduced himself as August Gideon, who spoke it fluently and kept up an eerily polite tone.

“Ms. Orellana, I apologize for the roughness of your arrival. As you know, your country has a history of being a bit politically unstable due to a criminal element who are easily made into efficient proxies for outside actors. Our organization is funded by the UN security council, and we have access to most of the UN data bases, even the ones they swear are strictly confidential. You see - that hospital you went to a few months ago, to get your tonsils out? They tested you, like most patients, with a gauntlet of basic blood work - and one of those samples, as of eight months ago, is determining if someone is a Praetorian candidate. Among other things, I no longer have to collaborate with Stricken about the most effective ways to bribe blood samples out of donation or hospitals.” He gave a wan smile. “You came back with a positive test. Which is when we engaged the mercenaries who picked you up and turned you over to us.”

“What did you want from me? What the hell is a Praetorian candidate?”

“Project Praetorian…you’re now in the custody of an organization called Imperator. You’ll find out the rest from your compatriots, day after tomorrow - you were the last to arrive of this wave, and you’re all being transported together to the other facility. I have a plane to catch back there tonight, I’m afraid.”

“Why not ride back with the rest of us?”

“I have business I have to attend, and an important briefing to provide.” 

***

The four she’d been stuck with at the base were incapable of speaking to her, so she’d been stuck gesturing at herself and saying “Mia,” asking for their names and getting “Kimmy,” from a girl in a wheelchair, “Micah,” from a quiet, nervous looking boy with Gideon’s complexion but the gentle presence of one of her brothers, and “Jared,” from a boy who looked at her like something to scrape off his boot.

The ride on the chopper had mostly consisted of Jared apparently antagonizing Micah - Mia didn’t understand what was being said but she understood the tone - and Kimmy taunting him back. Rapid-fire English that she couldn’t follow but that she knew was probably important to understand.

When they landed and people were presumably introduced, she stood there, asking if anyone spoke any Spanish - and got a response from one dark, gorgeous girl who pulled her aside and spoke, haltingly but with some degree of fluency. 

“My name is Echo and yours…”

“My name’s Mia, it's really good to meet you. I’ve been stuck with no one to talk to because no one understood what I was saying for ages and I don’t actually speak English. So, what is this, what’s going on? What is a Praetorian candidate? Who are these people?”

Echo blinked, slowly, and then said. “I am not that strong in Spanish now. Praetorian is a thing where they do crazy science to us - it hurts. Gives us weird powers, like a comic book.” 

Mia unwrapped that in her head - Echo wasn’t totally fluent in Spanish yet, or spoke a different kind, but she was trying. Praetorian was a program of some kind where they were having experiments done on them, which gave them…superpowers? Echo had to be saying that wrong, Echo seemed smart.

“What do you do here, Echo?”

“I work with computers - hack into them. Jonathan is…” She shouted for Jonathan to do something in English and Jonathan casually lifted an unused table. “Strong. Like a comic book. The crazy science changes us. They teach us to fight too. We’re supposed to be…” Echo broke off and said something that was obviously a chain of curse words in English.

“Supposed to be fighting aliens. One minute.” She shouted for someone and a girl came over, the same age as Mia and red-headed. Echo chatted with her fast, and the redhead looked between them, then said something in Spanish back, also a dialect that was more formal than Mia really spoke but was something her churchgoing aunt would have gotten much more easily. Molly had a rosary, a simple one, but it reminded Mia of her grandmother’s.

“I’m Molly,” she started, “And…I only really know Church Spanish,” she said, waving the rosary. “So I do not know how much I can say about our lives here - beyond that we may have been kidnaped by the devil. But if you want to talk about your family, I can understand that - we had a few Latin families at our church, we were supposed to be able to talk with each other, all of us, about important things.”

Mia nodded. “I have brothers back in El Salvador. And parents. They have no idea where I am.” That started hitting her for the first time. “God, I’m never going to see them again, am I?”

Molly lunged forward and hugged her. “I’m sorry. My parents are dead, died when the aliens first appeared. The others talk a big game about being a new family and hopefully the ones with living parents see their families again, and…I don’t know, Leon and Curtis are talking about ideas for the rest of us if the war ends before we’re adults.”

Mia nodded. “So, Echo - and Molly. What’s the deal with the kids who introduced us?”

“Mark - the skinny one? He’s kinda in charge, and the guy who spoke is Xavier.” 

“Xavier spoken for?”

“Not officially,” Echo replied, glancing at Shiloh in the distance. 

Molly followed her gaze. “I wouldn’t recommend it.” 

Mia let the other two girls guide her to a table and sit her down, shoveling food on her plate and eating with them, slowly fumbling through Spanish with them and starting to get through a smattering of English, some of which she’d gotten in school before she’d had to stop going to start working. Picking it back up with them was helping, a bit, but suddenly Molly started. “Right. She needs ASL too.”

Echo cursed in not only English, but Spanish, and her phone let out a series of beeps that might have been her using powers to curse in morse code. 

“Right - actually, might be easier, different grammar.”

Mia looked between them, and then Molly stood up in shock.

Molly

The conversation had been going well with Mia - honestly the new girl was really pretty and Molly was glad she spoke enough Spanish to make her feel welcome, but then something insane happened.

Shiloh had been over by Kimmy, and was putting hands on Kimmy’s back. The paralyzed girl started screaming, then bit down on her shirt, before Shiloh stepped away for a second, leaving Casey holding Kimmy’s hand as Kimmy writhed in pain, then Shiloh had come back, and begun doing - whatever they were doing again.

And it hit Molly what she was witnessing. Shiloh was trying to repair Kimmy’s spine. 

Shiloh. A person that, as much as she hadn’t admitted it, she hadn’t talked to much, been alone with the least of the Praetorians - by design. Their anger, their weird gender stuff, had always made Molly nervous, went against what she’d been taught.

Shiloh had given someone back his eyes during the battle, healed burns, restored wounds. Molly had seen that, but that had been rational, Molly had thought, or at least, as rational as anything could be in a world where aliens had come down from the sky, gunned down her parents, and she was now a superhero-supersoldier supposed to be fighting them.

But this.

Kimmy stood up, leaning on Casey, as Shiloh slumped, taking deep breaths and huge bites. 

Kimmy took a few steps forward, eyes filling with tears, and laughed maniacally.

Shiloh had just performed a straight up miracle. It wasn’t just healing a broken bone or restoring a wound, Shiloh had just made a cripple walk.

She heard Mia gasp behind her as she crossed herself.

“Even here, that’s…that’s crazy. That’s…”

Molly’s world spun as she saw Kimmy take slow steps and turn around of her own accord. 

“Holy shit.”

“Welcome to Praetorian. That’s our healer, Shiloh. Going completely beyond the impossible.” 

Beyond the impossible. 

That was one way to put it. 

Molly picked up a huge platter of food and carried it over to Shiloh in absolute silence then set it down in front of the deaf healer, signing for them to eat as she did so.

Shiloh gave her a quiet nod, and continued to watch Kimmy, a smile of satisfaction and quiet pride on their face.

[paytato435]

Chapter 6: Pink

Early Birds

Casey had only slept about three hours, and when he couldn't stand tossing and turning in bed any longer, he finally gave up. It was useless. The initial worry from the night before had compounded as a new and terrible thought plagued his brain.

How was he supposed to get to the Battle Nexus everyday without the turtles noticing?

Even if they seemed to sleep better than he did, their schedules were more fucked than their apocalyptic counterparts. Because they were part-time ninjas, and because they tried their best to avoid humans in general, they tended to go out at night fairly regularly. But now with school starting for Mikey and Leo, their schedule would have them awake in the day more often. In other words, Casey couldn't guarantee that there wouldn't be someone up and about at any given time wondering where he was. Someone was going to notice he was awol and ask him what he was up to.

Even worse, if he did have a convenient enough excuse, they would wonder when he had gotten the courage to go out by himself. What could possibly motivate him to do that? Casey didn't even want to go out on his own as it was, but he had no choice.

He should have never mentioned Synth to Leo. This was all one big ugly mess.

Casey eventually dragged himself out of bed and maneuvered quietly out of his room to go sit at the kitchen table. He stole a piece of paper from the grocery list notepad and started mapping out his day. Of course, he couldn't write anything incriminating down, so he just had to box down certain points in the day as "free time."

Unfortunately, staring down at the blank spaces turned out to be a fruitless endeavor.. He hadn't any idea what he could do to keep the others off his back. Maybe he'd figure something out after school.

“You’re up early,” Casey nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Raph peeking over his shoulder.

“Holy shit, dude!” 

The snapper backed up and raised his arms apologetically. “Sorry, my bad. Thought ya heard me walk in.”

Casey balled up the paper in his hands. “I really didn’t! What are you doing up?”

Raph shrugged and shuffled drowsily over to the coffee machine. “I’m always up early. S’more peaceful. My breakfast is safer when Leo’s not around.”

Casey snorted. He had a point. On more than one occasion Leo had tripped while trying to wake up in the kitchen. He was a menace to everyone- knocking over cereal bowls, sprawling out on the floor to agonize over the perpetual rising of the sun, pulling things out from the pantry and cupboards only to return them when he changed his mind suddenly or realized they were out of milk too late into his tea, cereal, or even mac and cheese prep.

Yeah, it was probably a good idea to eat before Leo got up. That would get one stressful thing out of the way, at least. He stood up from the table and moved over to join Raph on the other side of the bar, where he pulled down a box of cereal from atop the fridge.

“Are you ready for school today?” Raph asked as he squinted at the coffee machine buttons that were a little too small for his fingers. With little coordination, it took him several jabs of an increasingly frustrated index to get the machine running. When he finally got it going, he leaned his head against the nearest cupboard door.

“Not really,” Casey answered, tilting his head in concern for the big guy. “Doesn’t that have a timed setting so the machine makes it for you in the morning?”

“Depends if Donnie stays up all night,” Raph grunted. “He picked up my pot thirty minutes ago.”

“Oof.”

The two of them milled around in the kitchen for a few quiet minutes more before Casey settled back down in his seat again with a small bowl of flakes. To his surprise, the snapper joined him.

Casey tried to eat his cereal, but the combined nervousness he’d been wrestling with since last night and now the quiet awkwardness in the air made it difficult. Instead, he aimlessly tapped his spoon into the bottom of the bowl, trying to stab poor unfortunate bits of wilting cereal. He missed more often than not.

“Dude,” Casey looked up and saw Raph staring at the bowl as Casey’s spoon dinged the glass for what was perhaps the twelfth time.

“Sorry,” Casey stopped, putting his hands in his lap and staring at the table. He was a little unsure what to do with himself.

“You alright big guy?”

There it was. Raph’s classic big brother concern. It was hard to avoid most days, even though Casey tried his best to. 

“Not really.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

There was something about the way Raph talked to Casey that always made him want to open up. Not just because he made it a habit to ask, but also because he just seemed like the kinda guy you could just cry all your frustrations out onto and he’d take it all in stride. He wouldn’t tease you about it either, which Casey knew Leo and Donnie were far more likely to do. Casey felt uniquely vulnerable to him, especially when he had a lot of things he’d like to cry about right now. Casey wasn’t actually all too used to Raph’s thoughtfulness, and that perhaps contributed to his ability to get Casey to freeze like this.

But that was not something Casey could allow himself to do, right? He had to get through today. He had to be fine.

So he shrugged and forced himself to eat instead. Raph looked a little sad by the rejection, but tried to cover it with another question.

“Whaddya think people would do if they saw me goin to school, too?”

“Do you think they’d be scared of you?” Casey asked, raising an eyebrow.

Now it was Raph’s turn to stare at the table. “Probably, yeah.”

“I dunno how they could be, you’re just about the squishiest person I’ve ever met.”

“Squishy?”

“Uh, yeah, you know…” Casey scratched the back of his head. “Like a big teddy bear.”

The expression on Raph’s face was a little hard to read, but it looked like he was trying his best not to smile.

“I think you’d do great up there if you wanted to,” Casey told him earnestly. “I mean, you go to the cat cafe and talk to Lucy, right?”

“Well yeah, but… wait. Who told you about Lucy?” the snapper squinted his eyes. “It was Mikey wasn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. He really wants us to go together sometime,” Casey smiled nervously, remembering he wasn’t supposed to tell Raph they had already gone.

“We should go,” Raph nodded, seeming more alert now. “She’s really nice, you’d like her.”

Raph was probably going to tear into Mikey for this when he found out, but Casey didn’t want to be the one to ruin it.

“I’d like that,” he agreed.

“Actually, we could probably go when you get off school if you wanted,” Raph offered. “She’s usually not too busy on Wednesdays.”

“I can’t,” Casey frowned, uncrumpling his paper and looking at his schedule. “April’s making me try out field hockey.”

“Ah, well, it can’t be helped,” Raph shrugged. “Sounds like fun though.”

Casey nodded, but he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t sure about anything today.

“If you’re worried about school, just remember you’ve overcome a lot worse,” Raph told him. It was clear he was trying to reassure the kid, but it only reminded Casey that things were already a lot worse than him just going to school.

Much, much worse.

-

And yet somehow, Casey still felt utterly lost and helpless upon actually getting to school only a few short hours later. It was about as bad as Casey had imagined. He had thought he had at least gotten used to big crowds, but as it turned out, he'd never really been in a school-hallway-minutes-before-class kind of crowd.

As soon as he walked in he was hit with just how many people were crammed into such a small space. People were standing shoulder to shoulder, others weaving between each other like they’d done this their whole lives. The noise was unbearable. This was a bad idea.

“Guys I don’t think I can do this,” he said to nobody, because when he turned his head Leo and Mikey had already shuffled to the other side of the hallway. Leo waved for him to join them, but Casey just kinda froze. His eyes darted from one stranger’s face to the next. He hadn’t so much as tried to take a step before he saw Mikey squeeze up next to him and grab his hand.

“Come on Future Boy, we got places to be.”

 He’d never been pushed around so much. Mikey was his lifeline as they slowly made their way across the school. He vaguely remembered April telling him that his advisory class was up on the third floor, but thankfully Mikey knew how to get there.

The stairs were similarly crowded. At least here people had the sense to go up one side and down the other, but the stairway was so narrow that they had to go up single file. When he couldn't hold his hand, Casey grabbed the back of Mikey's bag instead. He kept his eyes straight ahead the whole time. His heart was pounding.

And class hadn't even started yet.

Somehow they made it to their room. Casey took the closest seat to the door and immediately opened his bag as Mikey sat down next to him. He dug out his class schedule and the map of the building and began memorizing the room numbers. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t done this sooner. 303, 107, 405, 201… 

“You good Casey?” he jumped in his seat.

“Uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he lied. Well, he was trying not to lie about it. He wanted to be ok. He could handle this.

“Do you want me to walk with you to your other classes too?” Casey only had this one class in common with Mikey. After this he’d be on his own. He felt like his stomach was going to turn inside out.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Casey admitted, hugging his bag.

The good news was that advisory turned out to be very boring. There was roll call, the teacher struggled with the projector for twenty minutes and missed morning announcements, and then the bell rang for his next class.

He had had plenty of time to calm down.

The bad news was that the journey to his second class was just as bad as the first. And this time, as he was going down the stairs, he tripped over his own shoes and fell down the last three stairs, knocking Mikey down with him.

"Shit!"

"Language!" called out a teacher from down the hall who was too busy walking to notice why Casey was swearing.

The kids in the hallway didn't even acknowledge him either as he scrambled back up and adjusted his bag.

But someone did acknowledge Mikey. As he was trying to stand up, some asshole knocked into him again.

"Oops, sorry freak!" he shouted back as he took the stairs.

"Who you calling a freak, lemon head?" Mikey snapped back, picking up his backpack.

The poor kid did have an unfortunately shaped head. But he didn't engage. In fact, nobody seemed to care about the lemon head. Instead, Casey noticed people were giving Mikey a wide berth.

It was the first time Casey noticed that Mikey stood out like a sore thumb. There hadn't been any yokai in advisory. He might have seen one on the way in, but he was too panicked to remember much. Looking around, he thought he would see more, but he didn't. He had completely forgotten that maybe the students in school weren't exactly used to them yet. Well, Mikey and Leo. What they didn't know about Casey couldn't hurt him.

He didn't know why, but seeing some asshole push Mikey over snapped Casey into action mode. He pulled out the school map again and noted where he was going on the first floor.

"Mikey I'm going to walk with you to your class," he said with a tone halfway between pissed and concerned.

"But-"

"I'll be fine."

"I don't need help," Mikey bristled.

"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried about them," Casey pointed out, taking Mikey's hand again. "April said no fighting. That means avoiding confrontation."

Mikey narrowed his eyes, but nodded. "My class is this way," he pointed, leading Casey to the left. "We better hurry though or we're going to be late."

-

So Leo had tried his best to look like the stares weren't getting to him, but he was still surprised to see that so many were openly scowling at him.

They had to be joking; he was in the news! He saved New York! It seemed some people missed the memo; what a town.

He made his way to Geometry and realized that most of the kids in that class were a year or two younger than him. That was a little embarrassing. Even more so when the teacher asked them to draw a plane with four points and Leo realized he hadn't meant an airplane with teeth. He had wondered what teeth had to do with math.

He wished Donnie were here to help.

People didn’t seem to laugh at his jokes either, or at least couldn’t tell when he was kidding or not, because nobody so much as tried to hide a smile whenever he spoke up. After asking for help for the fifth time on his assignment, he caught the Geometry teacher rolling his eyes. That wasn’t a great sign, either.

At last, the bell rang, and Leo fled from Geometry like a rat from a cat. He hoped the whole day wouldn’t go like this. He sprinted up stairs to the second floor, but slowed when he saw a group of kids all congregated at the top. He put on his best smile and asked to be excused so he could squeeze by them, but they didn’t move.

They all looked at him and then continued on with their conversation as if he wasn’t there.

“Hey, move it!” a kid behind him called. Leo looked behind him and saw a small kid in a black sweatshirt push past him. The group moved out of his way easily, and then immediately spread back out again to obstruct Leo's access.

“Oh come on!” Leo groaned. This was stupid. He jumped up onto the rail and over the group, giving them each a smug grin as he did so. They couldn’t help but look at him now as he soared gracefully over their heads. “Can’t keep a good guy down,” he winked back at them before continuing on. What was wrong with those guys?

Ok, he probably didn’t have to wonder about it much. He knew exactly why he was being treated this way. He’d watched enough movies to know people hated different people. Especially monsters and aliens, which he might as well be to them.

As it turned out, most of Leo’s classes were much the same as the first. He didn’t know shit. All he had was his gorgeous handwriting and the persistence to keep trying. He’d never felt so stupid in his life. He knew he probably wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, but damn. Everything that was brought up was completely foreign to him. At least in Government class all he had to do was sit and listen. He took furious notes on everything the teacher said. He’d probably have to read it again half a dozen more times before it got through his head.

God he hoped Casey and Mikey didn’t feel like this.

-

Pink

Faster than expected, the rest of the school day came and went. After the second period, Casey had managed to make his way around the school by just pretending everyone around him were just more obstacles to climb over. He didn’t try to talk to anyone, he just treated school like a mission. Get from one place to the next, listen, observe, take notes as needed, and get out. It was just recon; he could do that, at least.

On the other hand, Casey noticed there was a lot of attention on the few yokai and mutants he did spot, despite their attempts to blend in. Not a single one spoke up in his classes, they all sat together at lunch, and the human students couldn’t help but stare and gossip whenever they had a free moment. The atmosphere was tense, to say the least. It made Casey scratch his ankle with his shoe nervously as he ate.

After classes, April recommended Casey try out the field hockey team. Why not? It sounded fun, and it wasn’t as if he had sixteen years of education to catch up on that would significantly cut into his time outside of school, right?

Casey had brought a change of clothes, but wasn't ultimately sure where to go or where to change. Instead he just went out onto the field. The coaches and players were already out there, warming up. Casey was quick to notice that the team was made up of exclusively human players.

"Excuse me?" Casey approached the nearest adult: A tall woman with broad shoulders and cropped brown hair. She had just finished shouting at the players in front of her to start warm ups. She looked down at Casey expectantly.

"I'm here to join the field hockey team."

"Oh are ya?"

"Uh, yes, please?" The coach did not look impressed.

"In those clothes?"

"I- I can change." she blew her whistle. It was loud and made Casey wince in discomfort.

"Crale, get over here!"  A tall kid with warm brown eyes and sandy hair pulled back into a loose braid shuffled over. "What's your name, kid?"

"It's Casey, Casey Jones."

"Jones, this is Gavin Crale. I'm Coach Dennis. He'll show you where the lockers are. Crale, get him a hair tie too if he needs one, that's not gonna fly." she gestured at Casey's loose hair.

-

"You're that kid from the news, aren't you?" Gavin asked when they reached the locker rooms.

"From the news?" Casey asked suspiciously. He didn’t remember his face being on the news.

"When the aliens attacked. You're kinda hard to miss."

"Well, you're the first one to notice, actually," Casey shrugged, trying to play it casual.

"Most people probably don't see the hockey mask in your bag."

Casey snapped his head back to see that in fact, his mask was sticking out.

"Have you even played field hockey before? Your methods downtown weren't exactly consistent with the rules." Casey figured he must have seen the footage of him online.

“Nope.” He wished Gavin wouldn’t talk about it anymore, but it seemed an alien invasion that Casey was directly involved in was probably too interesting a subject for the perfectly normal teenager to ignore.

“You were with those green guys too, right? I think one of them is in my biology class.”

“They’re turtles,” Casey huffed. “Did you get the short one or the… striped one?” Casey wasn’t sure how to describe Leo to someone in just one word.

“The loud one.”

Casey wheezed.

“What?”

Casey struggled to keep a straight face. “They’re both loud,” Casey explained. “But one of them is taller with red stripes going down his face…”

“That’s him!” Gavin pointed to Casey in understanding. “He kept asking the teacher a bunch of weird questions.”

“Oh boy, what did he say?” Casey raised his eyebrows, a little amused now.

“There were so many questions,” Gavin sighed. “And none of them were like, genuine, by the way, the first question out of his mouth was if he should categorize himself as a mammal or a reptile on his worksheet, which was not even a question to begin with. He also wondered if the curriculum would be amended to include mutants and yokai, and was… very upset to find out it was not. Like, he clutched his hand to his chest and looked like he was going to fall over. Then he… cried about how the system was exclusive, unjust, and unable to accommodate the needs of the new and diverse student body.”

Casey nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“He was sent to the office to address his complaints in ‘a more appropriate environment,’” Gavin rolled his eyes and threw up air quotes.

“Would you dissect him for me? I heard that's a thing in that class."

Gavin snorted.

"I might. Nobody wanted to be his lab partner. He’s very…”

“Oh I know, you don’t have to explain,” Casey laughed. “You’ll get used to him.”

They sat in awkward silence for a minute, before Gavin found something else to talk about.

"I'm really glad you're trying out for the team. We've lost a lot of people since last season."

"What happened?" Casey asked, tightening his cleats.

“Some kids left town because of… the whole yokai situation. I think it's mostly just the parents who were scared out of their minds, but some of the kids on the team feel like it’d be unfair if yokai students filled in the gaps. I think the… uh… yokai… feel that resentment.”

“Resentment…” Casey wasn’t sure what this kid thought about this whole situation, but he sure seemed hyper-aware of it.

Gavin looked down at his shoes.

"Jones, I'm not gonna lie, this is all batshit crazy."

"You don't even know half of it." 

Gavin shrugged as if he could somehow make the situation normal by just pretending it was.

"In field hockey, you don't raise the stick over your head, and you definitely don't mod your stick with a chainsaw blade."

"Fair enough."

"And don't just go crashing into anybody you see on the field, we have some girls playing with us."

"What does that mean?"

Gavin scratched his head. "Well, you know, you wouldn't want to beat up a girl, right?"

"About as much as I'd beat up anyone else?"

"Oh, uh, I guess not." Casey was confused, but Gavin looked embarrassed.

"I'm ready," Casey stood, stretching his back from being hunched over.

"Zip up your bag too. The others would probably give you hell for that," Gavin warned, pointing at the mask again.

That was probably a good idea.

"Oh, and don't forget to pull your hair back. Do you need a hair tie?"

"Crap, yeah," Casey remembered, running his hands through his hair. Gavin pulled an elastic from his bag and handed it to Casey.

"This is a hair tie?" Casey asked, rolling it between his fingers, dumbfounded.

"Uh yeah, how do you tie your hair back? Rat tails?"

Casey tried his hardest not to think of how nasty that would be. "With like… a ribbon… if I need to. I don't use them often."

"Good grief. Have you ever used a rubber band?"

"No."

"Give me it back. I'll do it for you, we don't have time." 

Casey handed the band to Gavin and the boy moved to stand behind him. The hairs on the back of Casey's neck rose up as Gavin pulled his hair back away from his face. Casey tensed. He couldn’t see Gavin from this angle, and nobody else had touched his hair in years. Not since he was a kid, when Master Michelangelo taught him how to tie it back. Now this stranger was dragging his fingers across Casey’s scalp, and every nerve in his body screamed that he was in danger.

The experience was both very nostalgic and deeply alarming. He couldn’t tell if he was about to cry or kick the supposed threat off of him. He had to make a conscious effort to do neither, and instead did his best to count the linoleum tiles on the floor under them.

When Gavin tightened the ponytail, Casey jumped.

"Ah! Shit man, are you alright?"

Casey kept his eyes glued to the floor.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Let's get going."

When Gavin and Casey returned to the field, the players were setting up to scrimmage. Coach Dennis had Casey sit out for the first few minutes to watch and learn the rules, and then threw him out onto the field.

Field hockey was exhilarating. He didn't notice it so much while he was inside, but his muscles had been begging to get this exercise. Casey and his teammates quickly realized he was significantly faster on his feet than anticipated, as he made his way back and forth down the field. When he had the ball, hardly anyone could keep up. 

Hardly anyone except for her.

On the opposing team was a girl with a nose ring and raven black hair tied back into pigtails. A bright violet streak of hair in her bangs screamed to get anyone and everyone's attention. And she probably deserved it. She was good. Like, really good. 

The first few times Casey got the ball he quickly outpaced her and even managed to score once, but after about the third time cutting past her he found he could not lose her. Had she sped up? Was she predicting where he'd go? She never let up and was always right on his heels until-

Whack.

He lost possession of the ball. Looking around him he saw the girl had sniped it from him. He hadn't even seen her coming this time. By the time he had recovered, she was already long gone.

"So you've had your first run in with Angel," Gavin prodded as the team took a water break.

"That fast girl?" Casey looked downfield and noticed she'd actually been looking in his direction. As soon as she caught his glance, she started walking toward him. She looked like she'd just eaten a sour grape.

"Oh you are in trouble now," Gavin smiled, stepping away.

"Hey, new kid. Had enough yet?" Oh geez, she was mad already? He just got here.

"Uh, no?"

"No? Some nerve you got. What's your name?"

"Casey Jones."

Angel took a step closer, getting right into his face.

"Listen up, Jones. You're a shit forward and your awareness is trash. If you don't pay attention you're gonna get mowed over."

"Uh, thanks?" He was having trouble focusing on what she said; how did she smell so sweetly of bubblegum when she wasn’t chewing any? And in the middle of practice???

"You're welcome. Pay attention. I don't play nice with pink fucks like you."

"Pink?" He blinked in surprise.

"Your whole vibe is neon pink.” She twirled her hand before returning it to her hockey stick. “It's off putting." Casey froze. Angel had just correctly deduced his life color. Not even Mikey could...

"Do you have synesthesia?" Casey asked, earnestly.

Angel snorted.

"If you aren't here to play with all you got, go home. I can tell when people aren't trying. You're wasting space."

Angel turned back and headed onto the field, bouncing on the balls of her feet when she’d settled down.

"That was awful," Casey muttered to himself.

"She thinks you're a threat," Gavin smiled. "She's going to be."

"Why?"

Gavin shrugged.

“Her friend used to be on the team. She was really good too.”

“Where’d she go?”

“She’s dead.” Gavin said it like he was trying to convince Casey it was true. Most people wouldn’t be that explicit.

“She’s dead?” Casey looked back at Angel. She looked closer to beating someone up than breaking down. He felt that way sometimes too.

“Might as well be. Missing persons rarely show back up alive.”

Yikes.

After that, Casey couldn't keep up at all with Angel anymore, although everyone said he did very well. Despite the animosity, Casey couldn’t help but notice everyone else seemed to get along very well with the girl. It seemed he was her only target.

-

"Hey Angel, wait up!" The girl with the purple hair spun around to face him with a dangerous scowl. Ok, maybe not dangerous dangerous… Casey knew the difference between a scowl that preceded chastising and a scowl that preceded losing a limb. Angel definitely gave off the former, although he wouldn't be surprised if she was also capable of the latter.

"Whaddya want, Pink Fuck?"

There it was again. It had frustrated him for maybe a moment, but after thinking about it for a little longer and seeing how Angel treated the others on the team, Casey quickly picked through Angel's facade.

She was the only one at practice that was openly abrasive. He was the only one she had been abrasive to. Every joke she had made today had seemed to come at his expense.

The pout on her face and posture were over exaggerated. Before he called over to her, she had been talking with two of her friends, who now shared an exchange between themselves that Casey had traded with Michelangelo on too many occasions in the future. All three of them could see what Angel was doing:

She was the textbook definition of a tsundere. And Casey would know; he had the unfortunate experience of listening to his sensei with painful disinterest as the slider complained and insulted his way into eventually asking another one of his dozens of boyfriends out. Once Michelangelo had pointed the behavior out, Casey realized what a broken record Leonardo was. (He was infinitely thankful that Leo in this timeline hadn't started dating yet. There was no closing Pandora's box.)

Casey wondered if Angel was even aware of her behavior. Was she trying to scare him because she didn't know how to hide her feelings any other way? Or was it a habit of hers to poke fun at people she was interested in just in general? Either way, Casey felt confident he could use it to his advantage.

Ok, that probably sounded bad. If it made things any better, he kinda liked the attention.

"Yeah it's me, the pink one," he answered, raising his arms in surrender. He shared an apologetic smile with the students standing with her. "Could I talk to you for a minute? I need some help with something."

"You might be beyond help, Pink," she snorted, crossing her arms defensively. 

"Maybe," he acknowledged, which only made her snort again. "But uh, you're in my history class aren't you?" He remembered seeing her sit at the very back of the room, her feet kicked up on her desk and giving him a vicious glare even then.

"Yeah? Whattabout it?"

"Do you, uh… think you could help me with that assignment the teacher gave us? I was looking over the questions and I was completely stumped.”

"What?" She seemed completely taken aback by his question.

"Could you help me with the homework?" he asked again, not sure how else he could explain it.

Angel's eyes darted around the campus for a moment, thinking really hard very suddenly. 

"Uh…"

"It's ok if you don't want to, I could ask someone else, I just don't really know anyone here yet so…"

"No no! I can help you!" she protested immediately; probably too quickly. "Do you wanna go to the library or something? The public one's not far from here."

"Uh, yeah! Yeah that could work!" he agreed with his best smile. He noticed her lips quirk in just the tiniest fraction of a smile before she narrowed her eyes.

"If you're joining the team you gotta have good grades," she told him pointedly. "If you're too stupid they'll kick you off the team, got it?"

Casey swallowed and nodded. He didn't know that.

"You're lucky I love this team so much, punk. Purple Dragons gotta stick together, ya hear?"

That was a load of crap, but Casey agreed anyway. "Uh, yeah, I guess.. "

"Don't 'uh… I guess…' me! Do you want my help or not?"

Casey couldn't help but chuckle. Her face twitched dangerously. She looked like she was about to ask him if he wanted to die.

"Your laugh is stupid," she said instead, pulling out her phone from her duffel bag. "I'm gonna text my brother that I'll be home late. But he's actually cooking for once so we can't be out too late."

Casey felt as if the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. Finally, something was going right for once.

"I guess we'll see you tomorrow, Angel?" one of her friends asked. Angel blinked and turned back to them, as if she had forgotten they were there.

"Oh, yeah! Sorry guys…"

"No no, it's fine!" the friend assured her. "Go have fun," he winked before turning away.

"Go have… ugh!" Angel stamped her foot. "That guy, I swear…"

-

Angel seemed to have rebuilt her facade while she was changing out of her athletic clothes, because she seemed particularly and purposefully cool to anything Casey tried to say on the walk over to the library. She had put herself entirely on guard. It was a little awkward, but not completely surprising. She had, after all, suddenly found herself on a study date with a strange (BEYOND STRANGE) boy she had just met today.

"So how far do you live from the school?"

"Why? So you can stalk me?" Angel asked with another scowl.

"Yeesh, it was just a question," he scratched the back of his neck.

"Try a better one," she rolled her eyes, but there was little humor there.

"Ok… what's your brother like?"

"Why do you keep asking personal questions?!" she snapped. "You're weirding me out."

Oops. What was he supposed to ask her?

"Where'd you move from?" Angel asked him instead.

"Wait what?" He couldn't ask about her living situation but she could ask him about his? Not to mention there was no way he could answer THAT particular question.

"Where'ya from ding-dong?" she asked again, squinting one eye at him.

"I uh…"

"Not so fun being on the spot, huh?" she noticed, stepping ahead of him as they walked.

"What? No, it's fine I just-"

She spun around and stopped in front of him. He had to stop too suddenly to avoid bumping into her.

"Just what?" she smiled at him.

She was trying to intimidate him.

"I grew up here," Casey told her. It was kinda true. His New York was just a little more… dusty… and dead… and filled with monsters…

"Uhuh," Angel said without belief. He was surprised that she didn't pry further, but instead turned around and kept walking, letting him catch up to her stride.

"So did you grow up here?"

"Yeah," was her only answer for a moment, before adding; "I wasn't born here though. My parents are from Florida."

"Oh really? I heard it's really nice there." Casey had actually heard so many things about places like Florida in the past, where the weather was nice all year round and the beaches were beautiful. Casey had never been on the beach before. Of course they could still go to a beach much closer to New York than Florida, but it hadn't come up in conversation yet from the younger turtles. Maybe they could go before the weather turned.

"It's a shithole, don't go," she glowered.

"Oh." She seemed pretty good at killing a vibe. At least they had something in common.

They approached the library and Casey realized that even though he didn't feel exactly comfortable hanging out with Angel, he had made it all the way from school to the library without being jumpscared by an automobile. In fact, he hadn't been stressed by the usual traffic at all. It was only when they stepped into such a quiet space as the library that he noticed how loud the outside world was, and how it was starting to bother him just a little bit less.

Or he was distracted by trying to engage in a conversation with Angel. OR he was too worried about his family discovering that he was a turtle and that it was Donnie's fault and Leo never forgave-him-for-that-ergo-Casey-had-to-keep-them-safe-by-neverfiguringoutwhathewas. Ugh. Yeah, Casey had bigger problems than big and scary traffic noises.

Casey followed Angel to the back of the library, in which they found large desks surrounded by rows and rows of massive bookshelves. It made the shelves at school look empty, and it made the small handful of books Casey had seen in the past look downright depressing by comparison.

Until Casey had arrived into the past, he had read every physical book he had ever seen. Master Leonardo had made him, so he did. All six of them. There were rumors that there was a secret seventh book that Donatello hid from everyone, but by the time Casey knew of it he had little reason to dare seek it out. If he had to guess though, it was probably just smut. Donatello never made a habit of hoarding his knowledge for himself.

"You gonna sit down or…?" Casey snapped to attention when he saw Angel had already sat down at a table, her duffel bag on the polished wood surface as she hugged it to her chest.

Casey did not realize he had been looking around so long. He grabbed a chair and sat down quietly, all too conscious of his awkward and stumbling attempt to scoot himself and the chair under the table.

"You got your textbook right? I left mine in my locker."

"What?" Casey had been trying to figure out what to do with his hands. Funnily enough he hadn’t paid it that much attention when he had been sitting in class.

Angel gave him an irritated look. “Your textbook?”

"Oh yeah, I have it," Casey stumbled, opening his bag and pulling out their textbook. He needed to focus or she was going to think something was up.

She was probably already thinking something was up anyway.

As it turned out, Casey was probably far more hopeless a case than Angel had imagined. Growing up in the apocalypse did not afford him the time to learn whatever or wherever Mesopotamia was supposed to be.

"Jesus Christ, Jones, where the fuck did you go to school before?"

Casey slumped over the table. He knew it was only a matter of time before she asked.

"I was homeschooled."

"I'm surprised you can read," Angel scoffed, crossing her arms. He looked up at her, and her face changed to one of concern. "Well, I'm exaggerating a little," she admitted, looking over at his notes. “Are you alright with your other classes?”

Casey shrugged. “It’s been one day, the others haven’t given out assignments. Math was easy though.”

Angel made a face.

“Don’t like math?” he asked.

“It’s awful. If I have to do anything more than graph a line my brain starts turning somersaults.”

“Maybe I could help you with it sometime,” Casey prodded, giving a small smile.

“I don’t think you’ll have time with this whole situation going on,” Angel waved her hand over his homework. Casey’s smile disappeared. “It’s like you’ve been living under a rock. Do you even know who the President is?”

“I plead the fifth,” he shifted nervously in his seat.

“And what is the fifth?” She asked, checking her phone and propping her feet up onto the table.

“It’s probably better than pleading the fourth?” He turned his palms up to the ceiling in defeat.

Angel burst out laughing, the sudden sound turning heads and catching glares in the otherwise studious environment. Casey sank further into his seat, his ears burning. If he went any further down his nose was going to hit the table. Upon seeing him sink, Angel sighed and rolled her eyes.

“You’re going to need a lot of help, Pink,” she told him, pinching her eyebrow. He nodded, a little embarrassed, even if this was exactly what he was hoping she’d say. “Do you want to work on this some more tomorrow? I’m getting a bit hungry.”

Another perfect excuse for his absences from home. “Sure. My head hurts anyway.”

“Don’t know how it could when there’s nothing up there,” she teased, giving a smirk.

“Shut the fuck up,” Casey grumbled, closing his book. “At least I know how to tie my shoes.”

“I know how to tie them!” Angel scoffed, shaking her sneakers so the aglets clacked against the table. “I left them undone on purpose.”

“What if you trip and fall?”

Angel narrowed her eyes and uncrossed her legs. “If it bothers you so much why not tie them for me?”

“Pft, I’m not your mom,” Casey scoffed in turn, putting his book into his bag. When he reached back up for his notebook however, Angel had pinned it down with one of her shoes.

“Damn right you’re not,” she scrunched up her nose.

“What are you doing?” Casey asked, appearing unamused. Angel cracked a wide grin.

“They look cuter this way,” she insisted.

“Uhuh, sure,” he conceded with heavy sarcasm. Thankfully that seemed to be enough for Angel to release her hostage.

This girl was insane.

Prev. Masterpost Next

Notes: I have rewritten so much of this heckin' chapter that the only thing that's original is Angel calling Casey a shit forward and Pink Fuck. It was the only important part anyway, lol. Anyway, the big result of the rewrite and break this week is MORE ANGEL. She is very fun to write. She is a menace and will continue to bully Casey for absolutely no reason whatsoever. So why did I add her to the fic? She was my favorite character in the 03 series when I was little; I thought she was so cool. I'd only seen like, the first 12 episodes tho so my only point of reference for her character for the longest time was "Fallen Angel." She's a total brat and I love her. She will always pick on Casey Jones because she can. I hope you love my Rise version of her as much as I do!

Also I think I got the field hockey idea from Mutant Ninja Midlife Crisis. It definitely makes more sense for Casey to play field hockey over ice hockey like he usually does given his backstory. I can't imagine they had many ice rinks in the apocalypse, so I think him getting into ice hockey at this point would be quite the learning curve.

Also also I would fucking scream if anyone saw Casey's classroom numbers and could recognize what they mean. Hint: They're referencing a different sport altogether.

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

One Loop at a Time

Bakugou (Third Iteration) (part one) (AO3) (My Fic Masterpost)

Originally Posted on 4/16/2024

Rating: T

Summary:

AYO THIS FIC IS ALIVE FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH

unfortunately we've still got a hot minute until we get to the 'crack' part. enjoy the 'serious' bits until then!

(there are still jokes in this chapter, im not that mean)

Katsuki knows what death feels like.

He knows that he's only died once. Whatever the hell happened when Deku got murdered right in front of him, that wasn't dying. Deku died, there's no arguing that, but Katsuki did not die with him. One moment, he was on the battlefield, and the next he was waking up in his bed at home.

His mom isn't walking on eggshells around him anymore, which is nice. In the time between his 'resurrection' and the actual final battle- because of course he didn't even die in the real final battle, what a fucking loser way to go- everybody started treating him like some kind of delicate flower, which got real grating real quick. Just because he's seen beyond the veil or whatever doesn't make him a pussy who needs to be coddled!

He doesn't get the chance to say a damn thing about it, though, because the minute he goes to address it the hag starts yelling at him to get his ass dressed for his first day of UA.

"It's a prestigious fucking school, Katsuki, and you'd better not disrespect them by being late!" She shouts, exactly the same as he remembers from his real first day of high school, and he briefly wonders if he should argue about it or just roll with whatever the hell is going on. He's probably stuck in a quirk of some kind, or else Deku's stuck in a quirk and somehow dragged Katsuki along for the ride.

"Yeah, I fucking know, did you think I set my alarm for fun?" Katsuki shouts back, the same as he did the real first day of school, and figures that he'll find out what the issue is naturally later on. Something is going to be different, he's sure of it, unless he's alone in this quirk. The idea of another person trapped with him- Deku, probably- is something that remains to be seen.

"Language!" His mom spits, and Katsuki can't help but roll his eyes. He'd kind of missed this, this acting normally, instead of her being all weird and nice and not chewing him out for every little thing. Of course, he'd never admit it with a gun to his head, but he's glad to know that nobody thinks of him as fragile anymore.

Katsuki slams his door closed, and starts putting on the uniform, ditching the tie entirely. He's not wearing it unless he has to, and nobody bitched at him for it the first time, so the tie stays off.

He at least knows he isn't dead. Death is a lot less... concrete than whatever this is. The experience was weird, and not one that he wants to revisit ever, fuck you very much, despite the fact that he knows it's inevitable and blah blah blah. It's not inevitable yet, so he's nowhere near wanting to go back yet, either.

So, he's stuck in some kind of quirk- probably with Deku, but he shouldn't go in assuming that from the outset- that seems to have sent him back in time to his first day of high school. Is it a perception thing? Is he comatose right now? Or was he actually sent back in time?

Aizawa's advice for certain mental quirks comes back to him now- In the event you find yourself in a reality that doesn't match up with your understanding of reality, proceed in a way that is consistent with your new perception. This had been for a multitude of reasons; he'd followed up the advice with his lecture on mental quirks, which took up most of a week of Heroics lecture, since UA didn't- doesn't?- have anyone on staff with the kind of quirk he was preparing them for.

The major reasons had boiled down to: alerting hostile entities bad, panicking bad, and paying attention to escape opportunities or explanations good. These kinds of quirks don't guarantee that he's alone, and it's also not guaranteed that the user is completely in control of who's inside of the illusion. He doesn't need to be tipping anybody off that he's not a construct of the illusion unless or until someone else tips him off first.

He bets ¥1000 with himself that that "someone else" will be Deku.

He finishes getting ready and grabs his bag- already fully packed, thank fuck, he's completely forgotten if UA had assigned homework due before the first day, so he's not entirely sure on what to bring anymore- and walks out into the kitchen, where he grabs his usual breakfast of two grapefruits.

"Good morning, Katsuki!" His old man calls out cheerily, and Katsuki waves with two fingers on the hand that's holding breakfast, because the other is closing the refrigerator door. He starts peeling one of his grapefruit and takes out a slice to eat.

He chews, swallows, and calls out to both his parents, "I'm leaving!"

"Get back before sundown!" His mother immediately replies. "You can't keep causing trouble after dark like a bum anymore!" He'd almost forgotten that he used to get back home well after dark some nights back in middle school, when he didn't have any exams coming up, and he blew his allowance on the arcade for hours with people he doesn't even talk to anymore. Those were fun times, no matter what the hag assumed he was actually doing back then.

"Piss off! I do what I want!" He shouts back as he walks out the door, knowing he'll be back before sundown anyway. Nothing important is going on this afternoon, clubs and extra training won't start for another week at least- if he's remembering right, he knows for sure it was pretty quick after USJ- so he'll be home soon enough. He didn't keep up with his middle school friends once he got into UA, and that only serves him well now, because they'll be able to detect little differences in his behavior.

Deku would be able to do that, too, but he's more predictable. Katsuki knows Deku better than he knows Fingers and the rest and vice versa, so ironically, even though the fear of discovery is technically greater going to school and interacting with the nerd, he still feels like it would be a safer course of events than if he wound up at that old arcade on the way home.

The walk to the train station is uneventful. The sidewalks are devoid of people, and the station has a few people, but nowhere near rush hour levels of crowding. He doesn't see Deku on the way, which he figures is pretty par for the course; the nerd may have been consistently early to class according to the bell, but he was always at least a train behind Katsuki himself.

The train ride and the short walk to the building are almost nostalgic; it's been so long since he was out of the dorms, it's something out of a memory that he's doing this route again. Of course it's almost like a memory, he should be expecting more déja vu as he goes through today and any future "days," since this all seems to be a replica of his first day of high school. The details match so far- there's nothing immediately out of place, but again, it's been a long time since he walked this route.

There are reporters crowding the gates again, though. It's a giant crowd of the fuckers crowding the gate, and since the vultures are cold-blooded assholes who will do anything and everything to get a scoop- including camping out in front of a high school well before dawn just to be the first ones there- it's the biggest gathering of people he's seen all day, which is to say in the past hour, if that. He's sure their numbers will only grow as the morning goes on, so he may as well shove his way through now.

It's easy, really, because civilians never fail to take the opportunity to cower. The minute somebody with a mildly impressive quirk starts showing it off, everyone freaks out, and while he would've once chalked it up to a sign of his own greatness, he recognizes it as a symptom of something sick in the power structure that they have now. Maybe that's just because he's listened to Deku's mumbled half-rants- only half because he refuses to consider anything below a certain volume an actual rant- about the sociopolitical state of the world, but he can't say he disagrees with half of the points he makes. The other half of those points are inaudible, so he can't be sure on whether he agrees with them, too.

Either way, the sickness of the world is doing him a favor right now, so he walks through the gates no problem to find mostly-empty hallways and a total lack of a map or anything for the incoming first-years. It's typical of UA; it's clearly negligence, but if he asks anyone directly they'll say it's some kind of test. Only Aizawa would make it an intentional test. At least he already knows where to go.

The 1-A classroom is in the same place it's always been, and it looks the same as it always has. Something about that feels wrong; it should be different, it should look different, but he knows it looks exactly the same in his own time and place, plus or minus a few scuffs and scratches.

He beat Glasses here this time, which isn't great; he doesn't want to draw attention to himself, after all. He figures it might be too late for that; it's not like he can step outside and look lost, can he? No, that would be even more suspicious. There has to be some kind of reasonable variation between timelines, or realities, or wherever he is versus where he should be. He's so preoccupied with this contemplation that he misses when Glasses actually walks in- and doesn't say a word?

Ah. He forgot to put his feet up on the desk. He doesn't think it matters, everything's already too different, and he wants to be in a better position in case any threats break in without warning. He watches the door carefully, listening intently for sounds out in the hallway. He doesn't have his hearing aids, but his ears are about as good as they were at this point in time- that is to say, just barely above the cutoff for disability and hearing aid qualification to kick in. He doesn't remember exactly when he finally managed to fall below that threshold, but it was definitely a good bit before the training camp at the very least.

It was probably the explosion on day one of Foundations of Heroics, if he had to pick a specific incident. He didn't really notice his hearing getting worse, but it had been declining for years, so he wasn't going to notice until the mandatory Hero Course sensory check-ups.

There's nothing suspicious, at least. Glasses is doing what he normally does on any other school day, what he probably would've done on the real first day if Katsuki hadn't insisted on being a bit of a shithead- and, to be fair, being a shithead is one of his core traits- which is sit quietly at his desk, get his pens and notebook out, and start writing tiny notes at the top. Glasses takes meticulous notes- he's seen them, they've been shared many times over the class group chat during the work studies- to the point that Katsuki thinks he'd go insane if he put himself through that all day. He takes notes, too, don't get him wrong, but he doesn't write full-blown transcripts.

There are only a few minutes that pass in silence before the door creaks open, and Deku peeks inside. Already, Katsuki knows that he's different, that he must have come back, too- on the real first day, Deku hadn't had the self-awareness to be visibly nervous, he'd plowed his way into the room and started talking no problem; he must be faking the self-consciousness. It must be put-upon, he's pretending not to recognize Glasses, probably, and he'll have to pretend not to know a thing about the rest of the class, too. Katsuki can use his ✨glowing✨ personality to his advantage, standoffish is his nature, but Deku's probably gonna be biting his tongue 'til it bleeds.

... He should intervene quickly, shouldn't he? Yeah. He doesn't want Deku blowing their cover.

Everybody else trickles in without incident, and the speech from Aizawa goes the same as the first time, the announcement of the Quirk Assessment nowhere near a surprise anymore, but he still makes sure to wander around away from the rest of the class, meandering closer to Deku and eventually pulling him aside.

"This isn't your first time living through today, either." He doesn't bother with asking, because he already knows full-well that whatever they're trapped in, they're trapped together. Deku's face of shock is almost insulting, but odds are even he just wasn't expecting a confrontation so soon- tough shit, Deku, neither of them needs the muttering about quirks making anyone suspicious- and was also fully aware of Katsuki's own place in this predicament.

"No, it's not. Today's my third first day of high school." Now it is Katsuki's turn to be surprised- third? Was he alone for his second? Was it someone else with him the second time? What the fuck is going on here?

"Second. What the hell- " Katsuki starts, but is almost immediately interrupted.

"Sorry, potentially stupid question first. What was my Hero name in the last timeline? Or, um, when did I die? Or both. I'm not picky." So he clearly didn't go the unobtrusive route in his second timeline, but of course Deku wouldn't do that, he'd pick a new name and try to change every little thing that could be perceived as a failure.

"Deku, duh. You got your shit rocked in the final battle against the League." Deku nods in contemplation, surprisingly not saying a word, just mulling all that over for a minute and fitting it into his weird nerd calculations for what he thinks is going on.

"Okay. I think I might have some idea of what's going on here. We're in a- " This time, Deku's interrupted by a shout off at the end of the hallway.

"Hey! Green guy and angry face! We found the locker rooms, and Sensei said we gotta be quick, so we don't want you guys getting expelled 'cause you're lost!" Sparky- not that either of them is supposed to know his name or quirk yet- calls out at both of them.

"Thanks! We're coming!" Deku waves back, and gives Katsuki a look that clearly means, we'll talk later. He starts following Pikachu, and Katsuki drags his feet along too.

-----

"Later" comes during lunch, when they're all in the middle of the cafeteria and it's too loud and chaotic for anybody to overhear them. The conversation won't be happening for the full lunch hour, so they won't arouse too much suspicion- everybody's running around trying to make friends, after all, and not letting anybody else at their table would definitely be considered "weird." They're at Katsuki's usual lunch table, the one that tended to be empty before the leeches decided to join him just after the USJ- Deku's planning on going to his own usual place after he finishes his theory, probably.

"Okay, I'll make this quick, we can talk more on the way home because we're going the same way -" Called it "- I just want to tell you what I think. We're stuck in a time loop, and so far, it's triggered by my death. You died in the first timeline without looping, unless you have something to tell me about that." He waits for just long enough that Katsuki knows he's expecting some kind of answer.

"I don't." He says shortly, and Deku nods.

"Okay, so we can't confidently rule you out, but I don't think you'd trigger a reset and I don't want to test it. I also think we might start gathering more people in the loop, so do me a favor and be different. In a noticeable way, I mean, so I'm going to have to pick another new Hero name- "

"All Might Junior. Young Might. Green Might. You have a plethora of options from your coloring books." Katsuki starts listing off all of Deku's five-year-old Hero names, which he still remembers because his own had been similar in construction, and Deku just shakes his head.

"Be serious. You need a new name, too, you can't be Super Murder God Explosion Lord Dynamight this time." Fuck. He'll go with it, especially if Deku's testing something, but that doesn't mean he's happy about it.

"Fine. Ground Zero. It was going to be the name of my agency, but it works fine as a temp." Of course, if Deku's right about this whole time loop thing, the idea of him getting his own agency might be a pipe dream, but he doesn't want to think about that right now.

"Okay, cool, at least you have actual backups. I'm gonna need a bit to workshop mine some more, because I already used my good one and my good backup and I'm fresh out of ideas for testing. Anyway, I'll talk to you on the way home." And just like that, Deku's gone, leaving Katsuki with his own thoughts.

A time loop, one that potentially brings in more people as it goes on. It's triggered by Deku's death, which means he's died twice, now, but doesn't seem to have experienced the same kind of thing that Katsuki did while he was under. It was probably like what he went through this morning- one moment, he was on the battlefield, the next, he was in bed. There's gotta be some kind of criteria that determines who gets brought in, who gets to escape, and how it all goes down; how they'll figure it out is the big question.

[kurazaru]

I tried drawing 5 frm the umbrella academy:) I've switched to sketching with ball point pen so I can identify my mistakes more easily. Lately I haven't been doing art, which idk why. Probably has to do with my crippling fear of failure. Oh well, whatever. Posting my sketches here is my way of trying to get over this fear. I'm gonna start posting everyday from now on, I promise.

Nowww some life stuff. Basically, I came across an old photo of a summer camp and remembered my friend whom I was bffs with for like a week. Then after some stalking on Facebook I managed to find his name, and obv no one my age uses Facebook, so I searched him up on insta, found his id, and omg hes so hot now, but his acc was private, I sent him a request and he didn't accept it, which was expected. He doens't even know who I am and we have no mutual friends. I was devastated when i first got rejected, but then now that I think abt it, it's what anyone would hv done. And honestly, we were frnds for a very short time that too some 7-8 years ago. He probably doesn't remember who I am, and what we did in the summer camp. And even if he does, why would be want me in his life? Coz it's been years, and we probably have vastly different personalities compared to when we first met. There's no guarantee that we will click again. + He has some 1000 followers so I'm assuming he's popular as fuck in his school lol, and he's hot so that's that. Well, I removed my friend request, and I've gone off insta. Staying off insta is actually so helpful. I'm gonna stay off forever now, coming back only on birthdays and when I wanna post art. Though i really miss how funny insta reels are. They are top tier dude. But once again they led me to having spent 6+hrs on reels EVERYDAY which isn't healthy at all. I'm gonnaame a pact with myself today, the next 3 years, till i graduate from my college, i will not fall for anyone, and relationships are out of question(which already were considering my gay ass and i live in the ever so judgemental India)

Okkk see ya !

[rome-roy]

wowowow fun :) my only remaining friend from high school (and real life) has now blocked me on instagram and privated her account. I guess so she can chat shit about me! And like I’m sad to lose her but also…

I’m definitely in the wrong myself but to just drop me? ok sure… that’s reasonable.

I want to rant for a sec. You don’t need to read this but feel free to tell me if I’m the asshole. I know I am a bit but… yeah. I feel guilty but not enough to warrant her reaction? Maybe?

So we’ve been friends since HS, but I left school and moved away. So we’ve kept in contact on and off over the years. Saw each other rarely but it sometimes it happened. I could probably count on my hands the amount of times we’ve seen each other (less than 10.)

One thing that is clear about me to anyone and most certainly her: I am terrible at staying in contact.

I’ll see a message and say I’ll respond later. And then it gets too late. Weeks go by. Most of the time I completely forget about it. And I end up not responding at all. I dislike this about myself. A lot of the time I don’t respond because I need time to think about the message or time where I don’t have distractions around me. The only time I can guarantee this is when I go to bed, and sometimes I’m just too sleepy or want to chill. Tough cycle to break.

Anyway, she knows this about me. I’ve been like this since high school. She’s never been mad about it, or at least she’s not said anything. We usually fall back into old ways before I lapse again.

Before lockdown (or the year of?) we decided to try writing some scripts together. We’ve been trying to do it for ages, but it’s hard to pin me down. I have no schedule, I cannot ever guarantee her a time in which we can both hop online and write. This especially got harder when she moved to Korea. Like where my life is at the minute… I don’t think anyone really understands how it makes me feel and how I feel I can’t do anything. I cannot dedicate my time because I don’t know what’s happening week to week, and I don’t want to inconvenience anyone else around me. I already feel like such an inconvenience to them.

ANYWAY, I told her this a few months ago, along with the fact that I’m just not feeling the story anymore and I’m struggling to be creative. I hoped that would be it, I’d have some space from the writing till I was able to think again. I was also kinda annoyed that we weren’t starting from scratch like we said we would but just editing what we had. We both agreed it needed to be completely rewritten… but no? She sent me a couple of voice notes, I didn’t have the time to listen to them straightaway so I put it off… we know how this goes.

So instead of just leaving me be for a bit she continues to message me. She messages me when she sees I’m online. Keeps trying to catch me out. And this kinda pisses me off. I don’t like that behaviour, just because I’m online doesn’t mean I have to talk to her. She doesn’t know what’s going on in my life. Having constant access to people online has fucked the world up a little - being online does not mean fully available and at your disposal. Oftentimes I wouldn’t actually be online. I’d click onto messenger to check the family groupchats and then go off… but it still says you’re active for a little while after that. I guess it’ll say you’re active if you have the tab open too. Not only did I not have time to start up a conversation with her but her trying to make me respond to her made me put it off even more.

Eventually she just messages me and says, to sum it up, ‘bye.’ I’m like… okay so… is this it?? She’s dropping me? None of my behaviour is out of the ordinary for me, I’ve never argued with her, never said a bad word, never fallen out with a friend before. After a few weeks she tries to catch me out some more. There’s a bit of attitude to her words and I’m not about that.

ON MY BIRTHDAY she posts a very plain ‘happy birthday!’ on my page. I honestly thought she wouldn’t bother. I can’t avoid it any longer, I say thanks and that I’m going to reply to her and explain. But it’s my birthday, I plan to do it the next day. No. That night she messages me after seeing I’m online and says ‘I thought we were friends??’ I’m tired and honestly just doing a quick scroll on insta before bed but I write back to give a brief summary and that I’ll reply in full later because I’m tired. I tell her that I see I’ve caused her pain and how terrible I feel, which I 100% do. She doesn’t respond straightaway so I go to sleep.

Next day I see she’s said that ‘it hasn’t caused [her] pain it’s just fucking annoying, do [I] want to write with [her] or not?’ and… I have been so so tempted to say ‘do you want a friend or do you a writing partner?’ but I can’t bring myself to do it. Because this is the only reason she’s been messaging me - so that I will write with her. The only reason she’s been in touch with me for a long while. I’ve been telling myself that people only want me around so they can use me for something that they want. She only talks to me because she wants to write this thing, for her benefit. Never about me, never reaching out for me. She has a fancy to start writing this again and that’s when she reaches out. That message really highlights that point to me, and the fact that the potential that she may have lost my friendship hasn’t actually caused her pain? But it’s been hurtful to me thinking she’s done? Like… do you actually care about me or do you just want me so you can write?

The story isn’t even what we started out with and has been really dominated by her and she’s never truly listened to anything I’ve said. I’ve tried to make her follow structures (and I hate structures usually but we really needed them) and suggested helpful things. It kinda means nothing but I do have a masters in creative writing, I know what I’m talking about. Yet all my suggestions go unfollowed.

She has not been the greatest friend to me (her 2019 birthday is a while other story), but I still love her. So I’m hurt. But in some respects I do wonder whether it’s for the best to maybe let her go. She’ll be fine, I know. She has lots of other friends and she has a boyfriend now. I don’t think she needs me… and I don’t think she’s wanted me for me in quite some time.

It’s a bit much for her to just go and block me. Like. I’m literally doing nothing. I’m not even posting, haven’t watched her insta story in a long time. But whatever. If she wants to go drastic and cut me out of her life like that so be it. I wonder if she’s going to unfriend me next?

I do plan on messaging her, maybe it will end up being the last time, but I don’t want to argue. I hate arguments so much, especially when we should be able to communicate like civilised adults.

[persephones-wren]

hii love, love your fics so I just had to request again! Could request a Kaz andd reader where he says something mean to her without meaning it but shes really sad an stattes crying to jesper and he gets angry and tells Kaz to apologise? Angst with a happy ending,please!! Thanks a ton darling💗💗

Forgiveness (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

thank you for requesting again! school has been kicking my ass, so sorry for how long writing this took, but I hope you like it! :)

Warnings: mentions of catcalling, (small) injury, idk?

Genre: angst to fluff

Word Count: 1910

To say you’ve had a shitty day would’ve been an understatement.

Heading to the White Rose to see Nina, you’d been catcalled multiple times. Maybe you were being dramatic, but the comments felt more scathing than usual, and it had gotten under your skin quicker than you thought it would. You didn’t want to use Kaz’s reputation to scare them off, but it wouldn’t have mattered. You’d still be viewed as a possession, just one that didn’t belong to them.

You had snapped at the last stranger who’d given their perverse ideals of you, and that altercation had left you a lovely slash on your arm from defending yourself. You had temporarily wrapped it up on a scarf, but you knew you would probably have to wrap it with gauze on it when you returned.

When you had asked the clerk where Nina was, he said that he’d seen her leave, but she said nothing to him. Which meant the entire journey here was a waste, and that you’d have to head home without her guaranteed cooperation with the plan your boyfriend was creating.

“Kaz, she’s not there. Clerk said she went out, but he didn’t get where. It was a waste of a trip,” you sigh, throwing down your cloak on a random chair.

Kaz sighs, lowering his head as he writes out another part of the plan. “Really, Y/N? You couldn’t go out and look for her? She told us a couple days ago that she was going to start taking trips to the market at this time. You could’ve found her there.”

“I’m sorry?” you scoff quietly, but try to adjust your tone at the icy stare he gives you. You could’ve said that nicer, sure. “I didn’t think to look for her there because I didn’t know that, Kaz. Are you sure she told us that?”

“Yes, she did. Were you not paying attention?”

“I don’t think I was there,” you refute. “I would’ve remembered if she told me.”

“I don’t have time to talk to people who can’t do their jobs,” he mutters. “Just get out and waste time for now. Let me finish what I’m working on and we’ll find her together later.”

“The hell you mean I can’t do my job?” you protest. “I did what you asked. I went to go look for her, and she wasn’t there. I thought your instructions were not to stray from my path, because you wanted me home quickly and safely.”

“If you had any shred of common sense, then you’d know that I’d only say that because I’m supposed to care about you. I’d take information over your safety.”

You still. What?

He’s supposed to care about you? Does that imply he doesn’t? He would take information over your safety.

Does he want to break up?

Stop being dramatic. Kaz doesn’t play implication games with something like that. He’d tell you outright.

But he wouldn’t care for you if he got what he wanted.

“I-um, oh,” you take a shuddery breath. Your chest feels tight and your eyes are going to water. Kaz hates dealing with over-emotional people. He needs people who can keep their cool, people who can think their way out of things. You need to get out of here before he looks up at you. You’re useless, you’re an idiot, no wonder he said you couldn’t do your job properly.

Too late. He looks up at you, frowning at your silence, but you quickly turn away, still trying to hide your face.

You laugh, and even you can tell that it’s not genuine, just an attempt at trying to hide your wavering voice. “I’m fine, Kaz. Uh- yeah, yeah! We’ll go out later and-” your throat catches as you swallow harshly. “We’ll go out and look for Nina later. See you then.” You quickly brush your tears out of the way, opening the door and stepping out.

Your steps echo down the hall, and you try and find your way to your room through the tears that now stream down your face.

I’d take information over your safety.

You still don’t know if he means it. He’s angry, but- Kaz was usually extremely candid when he was upset.

He might’ve meant every word.

You don’t notice Jes in front of you, and as you pass him, he catches your arm.

You wince, his fingers land right on the slash, and he hastily lets go, looking at you with concern. Everyone was usually about as emotional as a rock in the Barrel. What made you cry like that?

“Y/N, you okay? What happened? Why did you flinch from me? Did I do something wrong?”

His face resembles a kicked puppy, and your heart constricts with slight guilt.

“No, no- it’s not your fault, Jes- your fingers landed right on a slash I got, that’s all.”

He looks at his hands, covered in slight blood. You tug at your soaked-through scarf and look at it, and it looks even worse than when you first got it. Your grimace. So much for getting him to worry less about you. “It looks a lot worse than it actually is.” Your words are frantic and stuttered, but you hope he gets the point.

“How did that happen? I thought with Kaz’s reputation, you would be untouchable. Why isn’t he taking care of you?”

You smile sadly. The mention of Kaz tightens your chest again.  “Guy scrapped with me for a little while after catcalling me. I didn’t want to use Kaz to defend myself- me, with him? He’d be even more of a target. And Kaz is a bit upset with me right now. He doesn’t know what happened.”

“Why the hell would he be upset?”

“I didn’t get the information he wanted,” your voice is small and weak. “And he said he’d rather have the information more than my safety.”

“Which is why you’re crying.” Jes’s face has a look of understanding.

“Yes,” you affirm quietly. “Today’s just been a bad day. I’ll be alright, though, really. I know Kaz doesn’t like dealing with weak people, so I thought I wouldn’t bother-”

“You’re not weak.” His voice gains a complete new edge, and his face is determined. You suddenly get a bad feeling. What’s Jes going to suggest you do? “We’re going to go confront him. Right now.”

“Jes, I look like I’ve been crying. I’d at least like to compose myself a bit.”

“No.” He makes sure he’s grabbing your other arm, before leading you back to Kaz’s office. “He needs to know how much he’s fucked up. He’s smart, but really,” Jesper sighs, “He’s an idiot. And you deserve better than that.”

Your heart warms at his words, but you’re still nervous as he leads you down the hall, and you’re definitely panicking when he opens the door without knocking.

Kaz looks up, and a brief look of surprise is in his eyes as he looks at Jesper. Why didn’t Jesper knock? And why would Jes need him, especially at midday? Wouldn’t he be out gambling?

Kaz prepares himself to hear something stupid. He doesn’t notice you standing behind him, and his attention drifts back down to his plan.

“What do you need?”

“Apologize.”

“For?”

“For being a bloody idiot and hurting your girlfriend.”

Hurting you? He looks back up to him, and this time, you’re standing next to Jesper.

“I didn’t-” Kaz starts, but your appearance makes him go silent.

Your expression is blank, but tear streaks clearly stain your face, and you clearly look like you don’t want to be confronting him. Jesper had put you up to this.

Were you too afraid of him to do it yourself?

What did he do for you to look like that?

“You didn’t do anything?” Jesper’s voice is incredulous. “She went to the White Rose to try and find Nina, and then you come home and treat her like she’s useless because she doesn’t get what you want. She’s your girlfriend, not a goon. Have some respect for her, yeah? She followed exactly what you said, to try and get home quickly and safely, and even then, she still gets hurt. Did you even notice the bleeding gash?”

“Jes,” you whisper, “it’s fine, really-”

He doesn’t listen, and grabs at your wrist to lift your arm, pulling down the scarf and revealing the bloody cut. Kaz blinks, concern and guilt briefly flashing on his face before he smooths back his expression.

How didn’t he notice? How did that happen?

“Y’know how she got that? Men were harassing her, and she fought one of them because she didn’t want to use your name as her shield. She was trying to prevent painting an even bigger target on your back. And then you go as far,” Jes laughs angrily, “as to say that she’s not worth more than information for your fucking plan? And through all of that, she leaves you alone because she doesn’t want to be an inconvenience to you. Your girlfriend thinks her emotions are burdening you. Get your fucking head out of your ass. Either you apologize to her, or she’s breaking up with you.”

You and Kaz are both left standing still, both watching as Jesper stalks back toward the door, opening it and slamming it shut.

The sound echoes through the silent room.

You don’t know what to say. Part of you feels vindicated, Jesper did the hard part for you, but part of you feels guilty- Jesper also made it a lot bigger than it could’ve been.

You let the guilt win out.

“I’m sorry, Jes’s wording was a bit harsh, I’ll take my leave, it’s really not that big-”

“Stay,” Kaz interrupts. “Please.”

You sit down on the chair next to his, and he turns to you, pulling out gauze and alcohol wipes.

“I can do it myself,” you say hurriedly. “I know-”

“You’re not a burden to me.” He avoids your gaze, he doesn’t want to see your reaction, in case he really would lose you after this. “Let me help you.”

“Okay.”

You hiss through your teeth as he cleans the gash, a small “sorry” escaping him as he continues. There’s still a silence hanging between both of you. He wraps it carefully, looking up at you when he’s done.

“Not too tight?”

“No,” you answer quietly. “Thank you, Kaz.”

There’s another silence between you.

“I care about you,” he says suddenly. “I wouldn’t trade your safety for anything.”

You know it’s his way of saying sorry.

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring smile. “I know. I’ve just had a bad day, that’s all.”

“It’s not,” he argues. “If you ever need to defend yourself, use my name if it’ll get them to stop. I don’t care if it paints whatever sized target on my back.” You open your mouth to interject, but he continues. “I’m already a wanted criminal in Ketterdam. However much you increase the target by doesn’t matter, so long as you come home alright.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I will.”

“I love you, darling.”

Your eyes widen at his words. He doesn’t say it often, he knows that you already know that.

Jesper must’ve really shaken him.

“I love you too,” you reply softly. “Thank you.”

It’s his turn to look surprised. “For?”

“For caring,” you respond. “For being you. For loving me.”

A faint smile etches on his lips. “I always will.”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition. 

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed. 

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins. 

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.  

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze. 

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.  

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars. 

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window. 

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.  

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him. 

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night. 

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.  

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry. 

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength. 

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain. 

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness. 

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look. 

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night. 

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.��

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.  

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her. 

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together. 

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most. 

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

 Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back. 

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek. 

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

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

I worked so hard on this 😩  Please let me know your thoughts. 

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 302: As the Todoroki Turns

Previously on BnHA: 

Today on BnHA: We have a very fun chapter in which (1) Shouto grows up lonely on account of his parents being worried that his siblings will literally try to kill him, (2) Natsu and Fuyu grow up neglected on account of not being special and/or self-destructive enough to attract attention, (3) we get to revisit all of that exciting spousal abuse from chapter 39, and (4) Touya burns to death right on cue, pretty much exactly like we expected it to happen. Thankfully since this is a shounen manga, Horikoshi finds some hope in all this misery as the Todoroki family rallies together, with Shouto getting his long-overdue credit for being a perfect sweet angel who put up with all of this shit for sixteen years and somehow came out of it strong and kind and empathetic and determined. Anyway, so that flashback was a barrel of laughs. But now that it’s over, we can put all of that angst behind us, and move on to... well I guess, probably, more angst. Look, we’re short on variety at the moment. Bear with it.

ouch. we knew this was coming, but still

A+ parenting move there. “ho boy, our eldest just tried to murder our youngest, now what? hmm how about we isolate our youngest from all human contact”

though in their defense, we probably shouldn’t have expected this rabidly strength-obsessed fire man and his wife who was groomed since childhood to obey her family’s whims to have any idea of how to raise stable, well-adjusted offspring

SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS

this is a perfect example of Enji’s tragically self-revolving viewpoint right here. just because being a hero is your entire world doesn’t mean you can just excuse yourself from anything outside of that and act like it’s out of your control. “alas, all I care about is hero stuff and my son can’t be a hero, we are doomed to inhabit two different worlds” no you jackass, it’s called having more than one hobby?? figuring out how to spend some time with your son that doesn’t involve training?? the same exact thing you were telling him to do last week, while ignoring that you’ve never done that yourself in your life??

that said, yet again we have that complexity though because it’s obvious that Enji at least on some level is aware of his own flaws, even though he seems unwilling or unable to confront them. honestly, from what we’ve seen so far, Enji’s obsession with surpassing All Might might be more accurately called an addiction. he literally can’t let go of it even though he’s fully aware of how it’s slowly destroying his life. and so in the same way that a lifelong smoker or alcoholic might tell their child to stay away from cigarettes and booze, Enji tells Touya not to follow down the same path as him, even though he himself doesn’t know how to leave that path. so yes, it’s hypocritical as fuck, but there’s also an element of helplessness there as well because Enji literally doesn’t know how not to be like this

though all the same he sure could stand to put in more than just a token effort. but it is what it is, and we already know how much he’ll come to regret it

and meanwhile Baby Shouto has frozen his sleep bubble with his quirk lmao. so I guess his quirk did come in early. that’s a recipe for chaos right there

once again Shouto is ruining every single dramatic panel in this flashback

this was so dark and intense... and then I spotted the lil bubs in the corner. Horikoshi please control yourself

“some hero you are, running away” and then all of a sudden, “FIVE YEARS LATER” lol what. OKAY THEN

(ETA: love the confirmation that eight-year-old Natsu comes from the Iida school of puberty and is basically a fully grown man, and meanwhile Touya comes from the hobbit school of puberty and has been perpetually eight for the past five years.)

“HEY BIG BRO WANNA COME RECREATE AN ICONIC FLASHBACK SCENE WITH US. WE’VE GOT THE SOCCER BALL RIGHT HERE, BUT HURRY UP OR WE’LL BE TOO LATE FOR SHOUTO TO WALK ON BY AND STOP TO LOOK”

lol and that’s literally the next three panels. but Horikoshi did add this extra bit after Endeavor starts to drag Shouto away

seriously Enji what the hell did you expect was going to happen here. “Touya went nuts and tried to kill his little brother out of jealousy, so let’s make it clearer than ever that Shouto is the important child and all the other children are just rejects. this will definitely not make the problem 100x worse, and will surely lead to Touya giving up and living a happy life, having been emotionally abandoned by the person he admired more than anyone.” good for you pal you figured it all out. no need for that plan b, “we all just go to therapy”

anyway so he’s telling Shouto he can’t play because he needs more endurance training. and meanwhile Touya’s patented Todoroki Drama Genes are going through puberty as well

definitely the face of a happy, emotionally stable child who’s not still plotting to murder his younger brother in his sleep

“WELL ACTUALLY MAKESTE” lol I stand corrected??

apparently during the five year interim Touya actually stopped blaming Shouto and realized Enji was the one at fault. good for him! a bit inconsistent, given what we know happens later, but I assume we’ll get to that in good time

anyway. “yeah man I agree that dad sucks, but it’s the middle of the night and I’m only eight and you’ve been monologuing for the past two hours bro”

LMAO

the manga is making my jokes for me, only better. fine then

looks like someone’s still miffed about that disagreement he had with his baby sister back when she was like four

“Fuyu doesn’t get properly riled up like I want her to so ranting to her is annoying.” okay but having been in Fuyu’s shoes, it really is just a different way of coping, and I can guarantee she’s not as fine with the whole situation as Touya might think. but making your peace with something is often a decision that’s made for emotional self-preservation reasons. and I sure as hell don’t fault her for trying to shut out a situation that she had no control over, and trying to make the best of it, and scrape together as normal a childhood as she could manage

and now in Touya’s defense as well, that is of course easier said than done, and I’m sure if there was a “push this button and instantly get over all of the trauma in your life” switch readily available for Touya then he would have pushed it too. unfortunately it’s not always that simple

so now Rei is pleading with Touya not to go train up on his little emo hill again, but it doesn’t seem like much has changed since he was eight

I don’t think he gives two figs about being a hero; he just wants his father to look at him again with pride. fucking hell, stop doing this to me you damn Todorokis

guh, they keep telling him the same thing over and over again

even if we hadn’t already known he was gonna go melt his jawbone off soon, I wouldn’t have expected a line like that to go over well

yep. fuck

that Todoroki puberty angst, though. nothing else quite like it

“you have a part in this too, Mom” ooooooh man

okay but look, he’s not entirely wrong. like, I’m not saying any of this is Rei’s fault at all! she’s in an impossible situation where she’s afraid to stand up to Enji (who by this point has shown that he’s willing to physically attack her if things get too heated, which is terrifying), and doesn’t really have anywhere to turn for support. her parents aren’t helping much if at all, and Japan in general is just a terrible country to be in when you’re in a domestic abuse situation. everyone’s expected to put on a brave face and deal with their problems all on their own in private. Rei is basically completely isolated at this point, and she doesn’t know what else to do, and so she’s just trying to keep the situation as stable as possible for the kids

but on the other hand, “for the kids” is also where that argument starts to break down a bit, because at this point Shouto is also being physically abused by his father, and the other kids are continuing to be neglected (emotionally if not physically), as they have been for years. so the situation really isn’t stable at all for them. and as a kid, what you end up learning in that type of situation is that you can’t rely on either parent. not the abusive one, certainly, but also not the other one who can’t protect you from any of it. even if they love you and they’re trying, they’re just as helpless as you. Rei is struggling to deal with all of this with one hand tied behind her back, and I get it, and I’m not blaming her at all. but all the same, particularly given that she’s (understandably) putting almost all her focus on Shouto, the end result is that the other kids have basically been left to fend for themselves

so yeah! a shitty situation all around. and one of those cases where it’s not really anyone’s fault (aside from Enji’s), but I can understand the resentment Touya is feeling all the same. and I’m so glad Horikoshi is acknowledging this, because it’s something I probably would have been too uncomfortable to bring up otherwise. as it is it’s still an incredibly heavy subject, and one that I probably have too many personal feelings about

anyway, so once again the whole “we’ll try talking to him and then just shrug our shoulders when it doesn’t work” parenting strategy doesn’t really pan out for the Todoroki fam

sob this boy is Anakin Skywalkering before our very eyes. all that’s missing is AFO to come and start whispering in his ear. any minute now...

“anyway so then he got taller and his fire changed from red to blue”

guess we’re getting pretty close then huh. this is the part of the flashback that I really don’t want to see, but also unfortunately the part that I’m most curious about :/

oh for fuck’s --

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IGNORING HIM FOR FIVE YEARS DIDN’T ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM” sob. back to the drawing board I guess

I thought he got taller, why is he still only like a third of Enji’s height here

oh fuck me these are armor-piercing feels. this is the heavy artillery right here

ENJI I’M BEGGING YOU PLEASE STOP AND THINK FOR ONE MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE BEFORE DOING SOMETHING YOU’LL REGRET FOR THE REST OF ALL TIME. your child just told you that he still thinks beating All Might is the only thing you care about, and that he believes his existence is a mistake unless he finds some way of doing that for you. please stop for a moment to contemplate that and choose your next words with care and grace and oh who the hell am I kidding

-- OR WE COULD JUST BLAME REI

go on and blame everyone but yourself then!! that’s a great solution!! jesus christ man I know this is Endeavor at his literal worst but still this is fucking hard to watch

POOR BABY SHOUTO IS YELLING AT HIS DAD NOT TO HIT HIS MOMMY THIS LITTLE BRAVE BOY NEEDS SO MANY HUGS OH MY GOD

AND MEANWHILE THE OTHERS ARE HUDDLED IN THE NEXT ROOM TRYING NOT TO CRY AH FUCK

(ETA: Fuyu covering Natsu’s ears cuts RIGHT TO THE CORE OF ME. Horikoshi if you’re really not gonna get these kids some therapy then at least consider giving your readers some. what is this.)

you know it’s bad when you’re starting to think the part where the kid burns to death might actually be a less traumatic thing to cut to right now

holy shit, actual Rei thoughts

“I was the one who ultimately made that choice” well there we go, wonder if that’ll put that whole argument to bed at last. I doubt it, but you never know. actually who am I kidding it’s not gonna settle jack shit lol

oh thank god, they decided it was getting too intense and cut away back to the present to narrate this next (final?) part

get ready to cue up that Alicia Keys. THIS BOY IS ON FIREEEEEEE

yeah I think that’s one thing we can mostly all agree on. neither of them had any clue what the fuck they were doing pretty much at any point. though I will say that the hypocrisy of him being all “WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP HIM” followed by him IMMEDIATELY DOING THE EXACT SAME THING is a bit rich

(ETA: and he still has this problem, doesn’t he? he froze up when Ending snatched Natsuo, and again when Dabi was attacking Shouto. he’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing that he ends up not doing anything, which of course is exactly what led to Touya’s death. damn Enji I guess you’ve still got some additional character development to unlock.)

and of course neither of them could possibly have known how badly it was going to turn out. like, the consequences here were WAY disproportionate even for the shittiest of parenting. no one expects “I didn’t know how to talk to my son” to snowball into “my son burned to death and then somehow came back as a villain and murdered thirty people”

ohhhhhhhh fuck me

LITERALLY INCINERATED THE ENTIRE HILLSIDE. fuck. and I am so not ready for the scene of Enji finding the remains of his jawbone afterwards. at least we were spared anything super-graphic (for now at least)

I feel like the timeline here is off, btw?? wasn’t Touya’s death supposed to happen after Rei got hospitalized? this might be the first actual retcon of the entire flashback. although I think it makes more sense this way tbh

I do appreciate that ten years later Enji is finally reflecting on the fact that if he’d just given up his stupid obsession he could have stopped his family from crumbling apart. that probably sounds sarcastic as fuck, but it’s not. there are countless jerks out there who would have still managed to find a way to blame literally everyone and everything under the sun except for themselves. at least he finally figured out how to take responsibility, even if it came too late to stop his son from dying and being radicalized into a villain terrorist organization

and speaking of, it seems to me we’re missing a third and final part to this little tale of woe, and one which only Touya himself will be able to shed any light on. so we’ll see how that goes

oh man seeing the other kids blaming themselves even though none of it was their fault hits hard af. Rei wasn’t kidding when she said they’d been bearing that burden of guilt far longer than Enji

SHOUTO I SWEAR TO GOD IF THE NEXT PANEL IS YOU APOLOGIZING FOR BEING BORN, I WILL... WELL I’LL BE VERY SAD, I GUESS. SO DON’T DO IT

oh good he’s just being quiet. good. it absolutely is not your fault lil bean. it’s not theirs either, but feeling guilty about things that aren’t your fault is a time-honored shounen tradition

goddammit I braced myself for the angsty Shouto panel a page too early. gotta do it all over again now lol. okay here goes

;_;

well well well would you look at that

imagine that. talking things out with your child before they make a rash decision. looks like the Todorokis’ parenting skills are finally leveling up

OH MY GOD

holy shit. this is the most quintessential moment of father/son Todoroki bonding in the entire series. for me it even tops the “nice scar” scene lol. Enji sobbing at the fact that he still has a chance to set things right. and Shouto offering his hand in what is actually the most mature and selfless gesture I’ve ever seen, and being all “we’ll stop him together” to his dad who he hates, but also doesn’t really entirely hate anymore. and all of that is incredibly moving... BUT ALSO HE STILL REFUSES TO MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM AND HE WOULD LIKE HIM TO STOP BEING SO FUCKING DRAMATIC ALREADY IF YOU DON’T MIND. “WHEN YOU’RE DONE CRYING...” fkjldsk

OH MY FUCKING LORD

(ETA: wouldn’t be a Todoroki drama fest if there wasn’t somebody listening in on the whole thing in secret just around the corner lmao.)

“you think we should have waited somewhere else?” “yeah, probably.” “are you feeling a lot of secondhand embarrassment too?” “god, you have no idea.” STFU HAWKS IT’S NOT EMBARASSING TO BE MOVED TO TEARS BY YOUR FAMILY ALL COMING TOGETHER IN YOUR DARKEST HOUR TO GIVE YOU HOPE THAT YOU PROBABLY DON’T DESERVE BUT ARE NONETHELESS INDESCRIBABLY GRATEFUL FOR

and anyway you chose these guys as your found family, bucko. too late to back out now. next time go get yourself adopted by the Iidas then

AND MEANWHILE NO WORD ON THE WHOLE “HOW DID A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD SURVIVE A FIRE THAT COVERED HIS BODY WITH HORRIFIC SCARS AND MELTED HIS JAW OFF, AND HOW DID HE SOMEHOW THEN MANAGE TO GO INTO HIDING FOR TEN WHOLE YEARS, AND WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT INTERIM TO CHANGE HIS GOAL FROM ‘SURPASS ALL MIGHT TO IMPRESS MY DAD’ TO ‘KILL ALL HEROES TO MAKE MY DAD SUFFER’.” as if we don’t know the answer to that. but still, would it kill Horikoshi to just confirm AFO’s involvement in all of this already. at this point it’s basically just a formality

so here’s hoping next week we’ll either get that, or more Hawks action, or (DARE I EVEN SUGGEST, I’M AFRAID TO JINX IT) finally cut back to Bakugou and Deku and All Might omg. either way I’m hyped

[k3lynn]

mine — katsuki bakugou

yandere! katsuki bakugou x reader

cw: yandere au, 3rd year bakugou, violence, reader got female genitalia, anger, off-“screen” murder, mention of (minor) character death, blood, lucidness, possessiveness, degradation, manipulation, stalking, threats, masturbation, implication of sex, swearing, assault, narcissism, horror, slightly delusional katsuki, panic attack, non con, mention of suicide

- I do not condone any of the behavior here, nor do I try to romanticize it. (definition: make it seem like a good thing) any future/current dark fics are purely for entertainment purposes. Also, I don’t think bakugou would EVER do this- I’m just using some dark traits he used to have and twisting them to fit this situation. Not completely proof read and edited, I am exhausted right now I’m sorry. I say some mean things about some characters but I don’t mean it 💗

words: 1.8k

𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝚈𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

Look at me.

Look at me.

Look at me.

Look at me.

Look at me.

WHY WON’T YOU LOOK AT ME.

Poor little Y/N. You’ve caught the Big Bad Wolf’s attention. Ready to snatch you up and drag you into the deepest parts of the forest where no one will ever find you.

You’ll be all mine, and I’ll be the only thing you’ll ever have to see again.

You’ve been in the same class for 3 years now- and all he had to show for it is an occasional wave, and a shy little “Hi Bakugou” every morning that made his heart leap out of his chest.

Enough for most, but not for him.

In turn, he would tsk. Facing away and setting his head down on the desk- attempting to hide the roaring blush adorning his cheeks and the subtle shuffling in his pants- the way your voice alone could make his balls tighten in need.

Still- you give him merely a glance. He is always around you, but your attention is given to someone else.

Any extra would overlook his grumbling for typical-Katsuki doing his own thing. In reality, he’s holding himself back from snapping and taking you by force.

He wants you to come to him.

You have no reason not to. He’s perfect. Probably the best student to ever enter U.A. High, and on path to become the best pro hero to ever graduate from it.

Coming first in both the Entrance Exams AND the sports festival- a victory he still denies, holding some of the highest grades in class- 3rd only to some geek girl he could easily out-rank in combat and that shitty half n’ half. Even perceptiveness, intellect, and determination that can rival dumb Deku.

He even possesses great skills in cooking and music- Katsuki is a natural-born genius. Anybody who isn’t conscious towards his incredible talents might as well be living under a rock-

Unbeknownst to you, he’s giving you the generous chance to decide when you’ll be his. But his patience wears thinner every day.

It would have only taken a second to turn around in your seat and notice his piercing red eyes glaring at the back of your head.

So why don’t you notice me.

-

He doesn’t understand why it’s you he obsesses about. He can’t even remember when this whole mess started.

He tried denying his feelings. But quickly- they built up and festered inside him, begging to come out. Love, possessiveness, same thing.

Whether it be watching your twist and turn in the obstacle course- then running to the nearest bathroom to furiously grip his cock.

Snatching your chapstick when you’re not looking and rubbing it all around his own lips- imagining that’s what your lips would taste like if you just kissed him-

Restraining you during combat training by wrapping his arms around you- squeezing your breast a little more than necessary. Pinning you to the floor until you admit defeat.

Or even sneaking into your dorm while you’re in the shower to grab a new pair of panties from your dirty laundry, adding it to the stash he keeps hidden under his bed.

Stalking you. Keeping you close at all times without you even knowing it.

Indeed, he knows he’s a sick and twisted human being.

But by now he hardly cares- he’s worked too hard to ever even imagine of changing his perfect target. Nobody is more deserving of you than him.

So if he has to confront, threaten, and beat every single person in this stupid school to monopolize you for himself- he gladly will. Anyone who goes againts that is challenging him.

He scoffs anytime a boy approaches you- it’s well known around school that anyone who attempts to buddy up with you mysteriously ends up in a hospital room with no recollection of what happened. People even started seeing you as a sign of bad luck.

He’s nice enough to allow you some friends though. But only ones who will guarantee you’ll be around him as much as possible.

So you sit with him, Kirishima, racoon eyes, dunce face, and tape boy in lunch. No one else. Right in front of him.

You’re chatting away with Mina, but unusually, something special came up in conversation.

He always stays focused on his lunch- switching between listening in and day dreaming about bending you over the lunch table and grinding on your ass-

Katsuki’s stomach dropped. His eyes widened- what did Mina just say?

There’s a boy in the management department, a quirkless 2nd year nobody smart enough to somehow get into U.A.

And he asked you out on a date after school.

Shit.

No.

No no no no-

No- this isn’t how it’s supposed to-

My throat burns.

When did he- when did you-

You’re going to say no, right?

I cant breathe.

You don’t like anyone- I know this

I know everything about you- I-

My chest hurts-

You’re mine.

And if he thinks I’ll share then I’ll-

“Mina stop being so loud please...” your delicate little voice whispered.

The rest of the table already took notice of what was going on- bombarding you with questions that made you flustered.

“Woah woah- Y/n, what’s your answer?” dunce face peeps out, Bakugou swore he could smack that grin off his face right then and there.

Katsuki turns to look at you again- a chill traveling down his spine once he made eye contact, but your stare quickly fell to the floor.

“I’m not sure yet- probably not.. ha.” You shrugged- a light pink dusting over your cheeks. The others, satisfied, dismiss the topic.

Had it have been anybody else observing, they wouldn’t have thought much of it. But Katsuki knows you like the back of his hand. Successfully deceiving him would be harder than taking down All For One.

You’re lying... aren’t you? In front of him too- All because of this quirkless fucking loser-

Katsuki hates lies.

.

.

.

I’m going to kill him.

-

The walk back to your dorm was disappointing to say the least. But you can’t expect someone to be in the best of moods when they’ve been stood up.

You almost couldn’t believe it either- he had seemed so kind and genuine that you stood there for an extra 2 hours. But that’s your luck with boys-

‘I hope you got a good laugh out of it, jerk.’ You huffed before inserting the key into your rooms lock.

Turning on the lights, you allow your eyes to adjust for a moment before stepping inside and walking to your desk.

“You were waiting for that jackass for so long I almost started thinking you would never come back...”

You let out a startled cry before dropping your keys and whirling around in a flash- recognizing Katsuki’s back as he slowly closes the door.

“Bakugou? Why are you-“

“was he really that special.”

“What do you mean was....“ It’s then you noticed the blood dripping down his arms and hands- your door decorated with the same shade of crimson.

“oh my god.. Bakugou,”

That’s why the poor boy never showed up.

You knew about Katsuki’s “little” crush on you for a while now. His stares weren’t exactly the most subtle after all-

You found his uncertainty adorable, heck, a part of you was waiting for him to confess. But you would have never imagined his infatuation went this far.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll never love you as much as I do.”

He lifts his head, and your eyes meet his. Bloodshot- as if he’d been crying, but the evident smirk on his face showed nothing but pure malice.

“Not that he’ll ever get the chance to anyways”

He’s too fast, too close to the door, he has all the advantage in this situation. But you have to try. You have to leave this room at this very moment or you may never make it out alive. There’s no reasoning with him.

You clutch your heart. He steps forward, and you instinctively bolt to the door.

A few easy moves and he has you pinned by the neck on the ground, legs bent and used to hold your arms from jerking too much. His free hand is outstretched, creating small explosions that made you automatically stiffen your movement.

“Bakugou please- I won’t ever tell anyone, we can forget about this and I’ll pretend it neve-“

“I don’t need you to be quiet. I’m the boy who rejected a direct offer from the League of Villains, one of the best students in U.A. high- even if you do rat me out, they’ll never believe you...”

His grip on your neck tightened- nails cutting through skin and little droplets of blood start showing up. His hand starts heating up and a panic courses through your veins.

“I’ll kill you before they even begin to suspect me.”

Choked sobs escape your lips from the pain and fear surging through your body- “I- I thought you said you lo-loved me.”

“I do... that’s why you’ll be mine forever.”

He leaned down, low enough for you to feel his warm breath- then used his tongue to sadistically lick off the tears running down your cheek, a salty but satisfying flavor entering his mouth.

“In this life, and the next. It’s up to you when we see the later.”

You nod, hoping he relaxes the pressure on your neck. His face softens, something you swore you would never see in Bakugou. He releases his hold.

“You made me mess up your neck, next time don’t be so mean.”

He tilted your chin up, observing the scratches and bruises littered all around it. As soon as he determines there’s no serious injury, he picks you up to lay you on your bed. Climbing in next to you and wrapping an arm around your hips.

“Couples cuddle like this all the time don’t they.”

You gave him silence, although he didn’t mind. With one glare he had you shuffling to move closer to his chest.

“they also kiss.”

You know that right now, there’s no point in fighting. So you give in to what he wants in hopes that one day, you’ll break free from the hold he secretly had on you for so long. You’ll play along. You’ll survive.

You shudder as his hands reach to cradle your cheek, wiping the blood of the boy all over it. He loved it. It proved he won. He gave a light kiss to your lips before attacking your neck, set on putting a new type of bruise on you.

“You should start calling me Katsuki.”

“Ka- Katsuki.” You barely managed to whimper out.

He caresses your hair, cooing soft whispers into your ear in an attempt to calm your sniffling. An action you would have seen as sweet if it weren’t for the constant threat of death over your shoulder.

Your breath hitches in horror as you feel his warm hands trail down your body, gripping your smooth inner thigh before delicately starting to drag his fingers up.

“You know...

You silently beg for him to stop.

“There’s one more thing couples do.”

-if anyone is interested- should I make a part 2? (Future edit, I’m not satisfied with this, I might end up rewriting in the future)

© 2021 k3lynn, do not modify or repost without permission

[ifmywishescametrue]

i don't know if you're still taking prompts (so please ignore this if you aren't) but i cant stop thinking about your recent buckytony fic (and how much i love breaking up and making up as a trope) - so i was wondering if you'd be up for doing smth else w that trope for buckytony?? maybe they re-unite at a mutual friend's wedding?? and it brings up emotions about their almost wedding?? idk i just really love breaking up and making up as a trope and i really love your writing :))

thank you!! I'm very much up for doing another buckytony break up/make up, plus you deserve nice things for finishing law school - congrats on that!🎉🎉hope you like this one 😊

There's a ring on Bucky's finger.

It's the first thing Tony notices when he walks into the bar for Natasha and Sharon's joint bachelorette party. He stands there in the doorway, frozen and staring until someone clears their throat pointedly behind him, and he mumbles an apology as he moves out of the way.

He thinks about turning around and not coming back, just ditching the event entirely and maybe even the wedding tomorrow, but he tosses the ridiculous thought the second it comes. He promised Sharon when she asked him to be her man of honor that he could handle Bucky being Nat's. Living on the other side of the country afforded him to miss the rest of the events and planning along the way, and he could deal with one day of being cordial to his ex, even if the day comes with walking down an aisle together.

But now there's a ring on Bucky's finger.

The silver catches the light, and it's on prominent display with his left hand wrapped around a beer bottle. It shouldn't be possible for him to have moved on that quickly. Eight months shouldn't be long enough to bury three years of memories. Three years of hopes and dreams and plans for a future built together. Years of love so blindingly intense that it burrowed into Tony's soul to make a home and refused to be evicted just because it was supposed to be over.

Tony wonders what the timeline is. Did he find someone new while Tony was still just beginning to pick up his own scattered pieces? A first date for him while Tony was barely getting out of bed. When was it that he replaced Tony as the last person to have his heart? And how did he find forever in someone else so soon after losing the one he used to call his soulmate?

Natasha notices him first, still hovering near the entrance, and she raises a single eyebrow that calls him a coward. He rolls his eyes at the accusation, though it's accurate. She elbows Sharon to catch her attention, and before he knows it the entire small group is turning their heads his way, giving him no choice but to join them.

It's less bachelorette party and more pre-wedding celebration with the crowd they've gathered, all mutual friends of both brides with no regards for gender traditions that usually come with this night. Tony used to fit in well with them all, back when gatherings like this were just a typical Friday night. But he made himself an outsider between the move to California and the breakup with Bucky. All he has now with most of them is a dead group chat that hasn't been used in months. He wonders which one of them made the new one without him in it.

Sharon is the first to pull him into a hug, then Natasha follows suit. He gets a nod from Sam, a wave from Clint, and what might pass as a smile from Steve. Bucky stares so intensely that Tony can feel his eyes with his back turned, but when Tony looks his way, he pretends to be interested in the floor.

He had a plan before the ring threw him off. Step one should have been the entrance. Head held high, shoulders square, perfect outfit that shows everything off and compliments the Malibu tan he has now. Step two should be nonchalance. A light hearted greeting to everyone, accompanied by an easy grin and relaxed body language, and catching up with subtle brags slipped in. Show them all that he's doing better than he ever was, sitting on top of the world these days, even if most of the time it feels like he's barely above rock bottom.

Step three in his ideal scenario involved Bucky breaking down and begging to get him back. Some versions even had him on his knees for it, with tears running down his face. Others required it to be raining outside, and the cloudless sky ruined that before the ring on Bucky's finger did.

With steps one and three out the window, he tries to salvage step two.

“Hey,” Tony starts, a little too loud. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries again, “Hey, Bucky. It's good to see you.”

Bucky nods, a strained, jerky motion. “Yeah, you too. How, uh, how have you been?”

“Good. Really good, actually. Company just had its highest sales quarter yet, so it’s been a little crazy around there, but good.”

“Good,” Bucky repeats, and there’s a long awkward pause.

“And what about you?” Tony asks, and then because he can’t help himself, he adds, “I see you got engaged. Or, hell, I guess it could be married, even.”

Bucky freezes with parted lips and wide eyes for the briefest of moments, like he wasn’t expecting Tony to know about it or bring it up, and his eyes shift to the ring on his hand and stay there.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Engaged. Last week.”

Tony ignores the ache in his chest and plasters on a smile like he’s happy for him. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know him. Steve introduced us. They work together.”

“So he’s at the museum then? I thought you used to say that you hated all those stuffy guys and Steve was the only one worth knowing.”

Bucky smiles, a fond thing that widens the crack in Tony’s heart. “Yeah, well, I guess I was wrong. Felix is a great guy.”

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid name that probably matches a stupid, punchable face.

Some masochist thing pulls at him to make him keep digging for more information, a twisted need to know even as each word pushes the knife in deeper. He aims for casual, leaning back against one of the high top tables as he asks, “So how long have you been together?”

“Just a couple of months. Kind of fast, I know, but when you’re sure about something, it doesn’t really matter, right? Why waste time waiting?”

“Right, of course,” Tony says, a little flatter than he intends. “So why isn’t he here tonight? Hope it wasn’t to spare my feelings, because it’s really not necessary.”

Bucky falters, “It’s not? You, uh, you’re dating someone, then?”

Tony nods, and he wishes he had grabbed a drink before this so he could hide behind it as he lies through his teeth. “Only a few weeks, though. A little too early to be a wedding date, but I’m sure your guy will be there tomorrow right?”

“Oh, um, yeah, definitely. Why wouldn’t he be, right? There’s no reason I can think of,” Bucky says, stumbling around it. “But tell me more about your thing. Your person. How’s that going?”

Tony shrugs, and he finally pulls off that easy smile he’s been trying for. “Well, it’s not get engaged in a couple of months good, but it’s been really great. We’re taking it slow. Trying not to rush anything and just get to know each other first. I think it could really be something, though.”

“That’s good,” Bucky mumbles. “You deserve something good.”

He isn’t meeting Tony’s eyes anymore, almost like he’s upset that Tony moved on, and the vindictive part of Tony wants to be happy about it, but another part wants to be angry because it isn’t fair. It’s not fair to act like Tony should stay stuck in time, forever longing for him when he already moved on with someone else first. It’s hypocritical and selfish, even if Tony is lying about there being anyone else.

“Well, I’m gonna go get a drink,” Tony says, pushing down every feeling. “Should catch up with everyone else, too, while I’m at it. I’ll talk to you later.”

He heads over to the bar and isn’t surprised when Sharon joins him a moment later, right after he orders a double shot of whiskey. She puts an arm around his shoulder and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tony laughs, running a hand through his hair. “My ex is engaged to somebody else and apparently doing really fucking well. Meanwhile, I’m making up fake boyfriends that I’m taking it slow with, because last week I went on my first real date in eight months and cried in the bathroom in the middle of it. And then, at the end of the night, he literally told me to my face that he didn’t think a second date was a good idea. We weren’t even talking about it, Sharon. He said it unprompted when we were still ten minutes from his apartment, and I was driving.”

Sharon nods slowly as she processes the rant. “He told you he got engaged?”

“Yeah, thanks for not telling me, by the way. It was really fun to get blindsided by it.”

She ignores the complaint to ask, “What else did he tell you, exactly?”

“Oh, just the whole line about how you know when you know, and Felix is such a great guy, and all that bullshit.”

“Felix,” Sharon repeats.

Tony knocks back the rest of his drink and orders another. “Please tell me he’s not better looking than me. Tell me it’s a downgrade. Don’t lie, because I know I have to meet him tomorrow, but please give me something that will make this better.”

“Well, I can guarantee he’s not as attractive as you. But he’s a little too perfect, you know? Like how could this guy possibly be real, he’s so unbelievably perfect,” Sharon says.

“I told you to make me feel better, not worse.”

Sharon shakes her head with a smile, the arm around him tightening into an approximation of hug. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I don’t think they’re going to last. He’s kind of flaky, too. Always cancelling at the last minute and all that. Bet he won’t even show tomorrow.”

The amusement on her face that she’s failing to hide confuses him. He’s starting to feel bad, though, for making the night about him when it should be about her and Nat.

Resolving not to dwell on it anymore, he squeezes the hand on his shoulder and says, “Alright, enough sad drinking, and definitely enough about me. We’re celebrating you and Nat and a lifetime of sickeningly wonderful happiness for both of you.”

Sharon grins, “Hell yeah, we are.”

“Shots?”

“Is that even a question?”

_____________

He wakes up with a headache and hazy memories. Shots of tequila that turned into shots of vodka when Nat got involved, then Clint’s terrible suggestion to try a shot of every liquor they had to offer. He vaguely remembers the round of toasts and drunken impromptu speeches from everyone, locking eyes with Bucky and failing to look away on both their parts. There’s a blur of wandering hands and heated, messy kisses. A bathroom stall turned into a cab ride which turned into his hotel room. He knows what he’ll find next to him when he opens his eyes, and guilt comes in full force.

“I know you’re awake,” Bucky says, voice still rough with sleep. It used to be Tony’s favorite sound in the world. “And I know we’re both sorry about what happened, but pretending to be asleep isn’t fixing nothin’.”

Tony shifts over to his back, and if there was any question before about what happened between them, the all too familiar ache in his body would answer it. He stares up at the ceiling to avoid the acres of bare skin on display next to him.

“You should probably leave,” Tony says to the walls. “I’m sure your fiancé is wondering where you are.”

“I doubt it.”

Tony puts an arm over his eyes, partly to block out the light that makes them ache and partly to hide his face. “Just go, okay? It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again, and we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Was it a mistake?” Bucky asks. “It didn’t feel like one to me.”

He doesn’t answer, and it’s soft and broken when Bucky says his name. Too much for him to handle.

Tony pushes back the blankets and searches for Bucky’s clothes in the mess they’ve made. He finds the shirt first and throws it at him. “You’re engaged, which means it was a mistake.”

His boxers are on the back of the couch, jeans right in front of the door, and they join the pile on Bucky’s lap. “You promised the rest of your life to somebody else, and I’m pretty sure fidelity is supposed to go with that.”

He tosses a shoe in the general direction of the bed, and it hits the nightstand with a loud thud. The second shoe is still in his hand when Bucky gets up and walks over to him, taking it and letting it drop to the floor.

His eyes hold a level of intensity that Tony has spent months dreaming about, and Tony couldn’t look away or move from this spot even if he tried.

“Felix isn’t real,” Bucky says. “I made him up when you asked, because I didn’t want to tell you the truth that I haven’t moved on in the slightest. That I’m so pathetic that I’ve spent the last eight months wearing an engagement ring that I bought for a guy who doesn’t love me anymore because I don’t know how to let him go.”

Tony stops breathing. “What?”

Bucky slides the ring from his finger, holding it between them so Tony can see the inscription. Always yours. He can’t remember the last time he heard the words get spoken.

“When?” Tony asks hoarsely. “When did you get that and why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“About a year ago,” Bucky says, slipping it back on his own finger. He sits back on the edge of the bed and stares down at it, twisting it around. “I thought about doing it on your birthday, but Nat and Sharon had just gotten engaged the week before and I didn’t want to take anything away from them. You were working a lot of late nights after that, and I thought it would be better to wait until things slowed down. You were so tired all the time, and you deserved a better proposal than when you’re falling asleep in the middle of dinner. It never slowed down, though. And then you got that big promotion and somehow we fell apart instead. If I’m honest, I still don’t really know how. One minute I’m getting ready to come with you, and the next you’re telling me not to bother.”

Tony sits down next to him, shoulders touching, and he pulls Bucky’s left hand into his. “You didn’t really want to go.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky says, but Tony shakes his head.

“All you talked about was how much you would miss New York. How much you’d miss your friends and your family and your job. Every day, everywhere we went. Even the fucking hot dog stands got sonnets about them. It really didn’t take a genius to figure out that you weren’t exactly looking forward to leaving.”

“I still would have gone for you,” Bucky argues. “I told you I would go anywhere with you, if it was what you wanted.”

“And then what? You move with me, and you’re miserable all the time, because my job never slows down so I’m still not around as much as you want, except now it’s compounded because you’re in a city that you hate with no one else that you know. You resent me for making you go, and the outcome is the same in the end either way.”

“Or I move with you, and I finally ask you to marry me like I’ve wanted to since almost the day we met. I find new friends and a new job, and even if it’s not perfect, it’s still worth it because at the end of the day I have a husband coming home to me.”

Tony runs his thumb over the ring and murmurs, “I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t think I could do that for you anymore.”

Bucky cups his cheek, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but baby, you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks,” Tony laughs.

“You’re my idiot, if that helps.”

Tony smiles, still fragile but growing more hopeful. “Am I?”

“Always have been,” Bucky says. “Always will be if you stop assuming I’m going to leave you all the time. Let me decide for myself what I’m willing to sacrifice for us.”

Tony nods slowly, then says, “I’m sorry for ending it like that.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to.”

Tony climbs into his lap, circling his arms around his neck, and Bucky pulls him in closer with his hands on Tony’s hips. The ring is strange to feel against his skin, but also completely right. He wants it to stay there and to mean what it was always supposed to. Wants one of his own to match.

“We can fix it, right? We can be us again?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, and Tony’s heart sinks for just a moment. “Is your boyfriend as real as my fiancé?”

Tony laughs again in relief, “Yeah, they’d be a good pair.”

“I knew you had to be lying. You’ve never taken it slow in your life,” Bucky grins.

“Do you want me to start now?”

Bucky flips them over in one fluid motion, and he kisses up his throat as he murmurs, “Absolutely not.”

[britishassistant]

I wonder what the supervillains (the dorm leaders) would do if they get switched with their other self in Twisted Wonderland.

They'll meet a younger Yuu calls them senpai and probably get shivers when they hear someone shout Prefect but then realize its Yuu's role in that world.

Bonus would be if Yuuken's there too, sharing the dorm with Yuu.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

I decided to take a little inspo from my Villainous Paranoiac series for this one! Not a whole lot, but the idea of Twisted Wonderland Yuu being put in the infirmary after the events of Chapter Five!

(Also consider it non-canon, since it kinda involves everyone’s identities being exposed!)

Basically imagine that the supervillains find themselves in what looks like a private school infirmary, late at night. The air is buzzing with a strange energy, almost like the powers back in their home world, but...different, somehow.

The room nearly empty, save for one occupant in a cot close to the door.

Poison Queen and King immediately begin bickering over whose fault this mess is, while Royal Flush tries to get them to keep their voices down or else they’ll be detected. Charon is half a minute from going to curl up in a corner, clutching his freeze ray like a lifeline, while Octo Dealer and Snake Charmer are busy inspecting their surroundings for anything of value or that can be requisitioned into a weapon on short notice.

Tsunotaro has wandered over to inspect the sole other living being in the room with them.

He is pleasantly surprised to see what looks like a younger version of the reporter he’s so fond of, fast asleep in the infirmary cot. Their cheeks still retain the last bit of baby fat from childhood, and there’s some acne left that will fade with age. He may give one cheek a gentle poke, just to satisfy his curiosity. The sleepy mumble they let out is a little more high pitched than normal, but that’s the reporter’s voice alright.

He is less pleased to see dark circles under their eyes, or the bandages around their throat that stink of medicinal salves. If this truly is a younger version of his child of man, then why do they look so worried, even in sleep? Why are they injured and sleeping in this place of healing in the first place? They’re a mere child, barely old enough to operate a vehicle or live alone. Their only worries should be trivial things, not whatever is causing this furrow in their brow and hunch in their shoulders.

The other supervillains have begun to migrate over to where Tsunotaro is crouching in silent contemplation. King flips his eyepatch up to get a better look, whistling lowly. Octo Dealer busies himself with refilling their water glass, sneaking glances at them as he places it within easy reach. Snake Charmer pulls their pillow more under their head from where it’s almost slipped off. Poison Queen straightens the arrangement of the very tasteful bouquet on the bedside table, so the flowers’ best angle is shown to the bed’s occupant. Royal Flush carefully tucks their covers in over them.

Charon takes a picture with his tablet.

He forgot to turn off his flash.

Yuu cracks their eyes open...

To see seven adults looming over their bed in masks that resemble the ink from the overblots that haunt the Prefect’s nightmares.

Cue terrified screaming.

Snake Charmer lunges forward instinctively to cover Yuu’s mouth—

It’s only thanks to Poison Queen yanking him back that he doesn’t end up with an arrow in the shoulder.

Several more follow the first one through the window above the prefect’s cot, cold iron sharp and perfectly aimed to seriously maim if the supervillains don’t immediately get away from the screaming teenager. Rook was lax in protecting the Trickster after VDC ended, assuming there was no more danger after Roi du Poison’s overblot was saved. He will not make that mistake again.

The infirmary doors burst open, a younger Yuuken in a sleep-rumpled uniform barging in from where he decided to sleep outside because Ramshackle felt too empty and quiet to bear, but was forbidden from staying in the infirmary himself. He only has a pillow, but he brandishes it at the strange adults, fully willing to defend his dorm mate in whatever way he can.

The vanguard appears in a flurry of bats though, too many to fight off, small and vicious and furious. Their commander materializes in the center if the swarm, hovering over the head of Yuu’s cot, pink eyes brimming with a cold rage that makes his small and cute form look like it’s bursting at the seams holding something much older and angrier back. He opens his mouth, fangs long and glistening—

Only to stop short at the sight of one of the supervillains. “Malleus? Malleus Draconia?”

Tsunotaro nods warily.

“Wh-What in Twisted Wonderland are you wearing??”

Tsunotaro ducks his head like a chastened child. “I could say the same thing.” He mutters sullenly.

From there the lights get turned on, and the seven supervillains are made to explain themselves to the sleep-deprived students and staff who trickle in to see what’s going on. All six dorm leaders and one vice dorm leader vanished from their beds, setting everyone on high alert until news of these...alternate versions spread.

It is very weird for the supervillains to see all their minions as teenagers (again in some cases). It is only surpassed by how weird it is for everyone else to see their dorm heads and vice head all grown up and adult, even if they are dressed weird.

Ortho still wants to shoot them with a beam until they bring back his nii-san. Luckily Charon is able to convince him that Idia should be fine if he’s in Charon’s lair—he’s got plenty of the latest games, manga and tech for him to play with, so that should keep him occupied for a while.

Sebek is in a state of Malleus awe. He has shut down and will not restart. Silver has taken to pinching himself just to make sure this isn’t a Lilia’s cooking induced fever dream, while Lilia himself scolds Tsunotaro that he raised him better than to go around watching people sleep like that! Tsunotaro tries to use the “but I’m a supervillain” excuse, only for Lilia to shoot back “and I’m a war criminal in some nations, what’s your point?”

King is enjoying watching the overgrown lizard get scolded. Now if only the tiny Ruggie would stop asking him what injury the eyepatch is for, and making remarks about how embarrassing it would be if it were totally pointless—King does not pay his adult self so much to put up with this shit. The baby Jack also needs to stop demanding to know if his adult minion self can pull a sled faster than a moose or something...

Jade and Floyd are attempting to wind up the adult Octo Dealer, trying to see how much they can get away with compared with the normal Azul. Octo Dealer is legitimately at a loss as to how this world’s Azul doesn’t keep them in line without letting them turn to a crime or two. Then he learns about Azul’s contract business and feels a pang of commiseration and understanding.

Poison Queen, Royal Flush, and Snake Charmer are unpleasantly shocked when their dorms address them by their respective secret identities in front of their fellow supervillains out of the blue.

Poison Queen has to put up with King’s uncontrolled laughter as he finally understands the full extent of the incident with White Neige so long ago, while Tsunotaro tries to tell him he liked Schoenheit in his role as the evil dragon prince in the GaoGao dramatization. Royal Flush is about two seconds away from throttling Octo Dealer if the bastard doesn’t stop trying to make a deal to guarantee his mother doesn’t learn about her son’s private activities. Snake Charmer’s just glad his civilian identity flies under the radar enough that Charon has to try and look him up to understand who he is (and fails because he’s not on school wifi and his cellular data is bust).

Poison Queen is also getting a headache from Rook rhapsodizing about how his villain form is another, enhanced mode of beauty he is fortunate to lay eyes upon, as if he hadn’t been willing to skewer Poison Queen along with the rest of the supervillains five minutes ago. He’s at least able to amuse himself by letting Epel run away with his speculations about how he’s the buff hyper-masculine muscle for Poison Queen.

Kalim is crying that Jamil had to resort to becoming a villain in his home world! He must be so sad if he has to do that! He’s mildly cheered up when Snake Charmer tells him they work together on schemes, and that Snake Charmer is actually reasonably happy with his chosen vocation—and then he begins panicking that Jamil will like that world so much, he won’t want to come back.

Royal Flush is glad his counterpart at least has good people around to look after him, even if it is odd to have young versions of Trey and Cater trying to mother hen him despite the fact that he’s the older one now. At least Ace and Deuce acting up seems more fitting now considering their age than it ever did on their adult selves.

Ace huffs a sigh and leans on Yuu’s shoulder. “This is a mess, huh Prefect?”

“You said it.” Yuu replies. “I just wanna sleep forever.”

The supervillains go still.

“I’m sorry,” Snake Charmer says carefully. “But isn’t Enma-san the Prefect?”

“No?” Yuuken replies, confused. “Yuu’s the prefect of Ramshackle Dorm. I’m their vice— or would be, if we had any other students apart from them, me, and Grim.”

Octo Dealer laughs, sounding slightly strained. “Ah, apologies, but you see, that isn’t possible. It can’t be. Yuu isn’t—”

“But I am the prefect, Azul-senpai.” Yuu the Prefect says. “I’ve–I’ve always been the prefect.”

There’s a stunned silence.

Royal Flush places his head in his hands. “What the fuck.”

Back in the Supervillain AU universe, Yuu the Reporter sneezes sharply while trying to wrangle five frightened teenagers, one frightened-but-playing-tough twenty year old, and one confused however-old-he-is-but-younger-than-Tsunotaro fae.

They wonder what the chill down their spine is.