#you dont even get it. violence is love and green is violence and red is death and and and

[krytus]

like you dont get it. you dont get it! quinn doesn't want to die, he wants to be killed! for a man such as him, who loves to fight who worships the very idea of violence, he has to die in its embrace! to him, accepting death and dying is insulting! he speaks with reverence when he talks of the people he's killed! of what he has taken! with more love than he felt for his father, who was simply weak and passive enough to let himself die. like! god! the cycles! they are repeating! quinn wants ryder to take his power with his own hands. it is a disappointment he doesn't. he's a failure but worse than that he's a coward. quinn puts the knife in his son's hand and puts it next to his heart and all ryder has to do is want to do it but he DOESN'T. for all the shit he has to live through. thats his father. and quinn doesn't understand that because to HIM love is violence! i am showing you love in the only way i know how! a man who has been dying since the very first episode but who cannot be killed. no forgiveness, no turning back. remember?

[rbvcdeluxe]

wiggly and the physiology of the color green is wild to me actually. wiggly is pretty much represented by green, and the doll even has a small bit of red on its eyes but im gonna focus on green right now.

the green color is often connected to things like wealth/money, hope, envy, luck, balance and other concepts. most of these ideas can be seen in black friday and the whole deal with the wiggly doll. people went to wait in line for a doll, hoping they would get one if they had enough luck of actually getting to spend their money for it, because, i mean, its the 'best' shopping day of the year, anything can happen and will happen. then, for feast or famine we can see the riots for the doll starting, its when we see the shoppers getting envy by seeing others with a doll in their hands, enviousness brought by the greed.

but why do people want the doll on the first place? as lex said, because the wiggly doll makes people believe he could fix them. people are looking for a doll for their own benefit of hope to fix and bring balance to their lives.

and if you wanna go deeper with it, we can mention the physiology behind more specific shades of green. theres bright green, which often gives the feelings of rebirth, vitality, and basically all related to growth as one self. could be a thing that you could probably connect to the whole wiggly's birth deal. on another side, we've got dark green, connected to the already mentioned greed and money, along with growth and success. concepts that you can relate to how the (forced) success of the dolls grew to the point people were willing to spend their money and pay anything just for the doll because of greed. and to not make this too long ill only add one more shade, the yellowish green. this color does share symbolisms with the ones already mentioned, as every color does, but ones that can be perfectly used for a yellowish green are joy and the feeling of disgust or sickness. people are looking for joy and believe they find it once they joined the cult, all while the ones not in it, will look at it weirdly and will bring a feel of sickness by the others looking for happiness think a doll will fix their miserable lives, knowing that it wont because the ones looking at them, the young ones who have enough joy, dont need it at all.

and the red? thats for wrath. thats for the violence caused during the riots. red is seen for the aggression that happened because of the doll.

and red is not even only that, but also for love, passion and desire, but thats a whole other analysis im still working on i swear

[spooky-all-year-round]

Battle Confession

The prompts: "I thought I'd never see you again" and "You said... 'I love you'."

SFW G/n Reader x Ominis. This takes place post-game, I left it open for what the situation could be but if the triwizard tournament happens their 6th year then this would be in their 7th. Cause Hogwarts can never have one peaceful year. =)

Trigger warnings: hints of violence, anxiety, sad ominis, but it's happy I promise!

You were running flat out, students were being ushered out of the castle in droves. You were forcing your way past and between them. You had to get to the fight. You rounded the corner and spotted blonde slicked back hair and a robe lined with green. Slamming to a stop you shouted his name, grabbing his left hand with your right and placed your left hand on his right arm to stop him fully. "Ominis i need to tell you something." You were desperate, he had to know.

"What? Tell me later, we need to leave! The teachers said we all need to get off of school grounds! Its not-" he started.

"Ominis I dont know how this will all end. But I need you to know that I love you!" You placed a quick kiss on his cheek before taking off again. His shouts were quickly drowned out between the distance and the sounds of everyone leaving. All you knew is that you needed to save everyone. You needed to save him. Even if it meant you couldn't stay by his side.

You awoke a week later in the hospital wing early in the morning. Matron Blainey filled you in on your injuries and what she has done to heal them and on all the gifts that were left and visiors that had come by. Most notably one Mr.Gaunt, who came daily and for as long as he could. After all was said and done she stated she wanted to keep you overnight for observation and gave you a potion to help you sleep some more.

When you woke up this time it must have only been a few hours later. You could feel drops hit your hand and just as you wondered how there was even possibly a leak in this castle, you began to notice things. That hand was warm, clasped between two of someone else's. And there was a soft hitch in breath before more quiet shuddering breaths came. "Please, you have to come back. You cant leave me." A stiffled sob. "I cant lose you. I wish I had stopped you. Dragged you out of the school myself. I cant believe I froze. That I let you run off into danger again."

You're heart ached he couldnt possibly blame himself. You body was sore and so tired but you had to push through. You had to let him know it wasnt his fault. Sweet Ominis, sitting here crying, blaming himself for your reckless heroics. Had this been what he has been doing every day he visited?

You started trying to push yourself up but only managing a few shifts thanks to the sleeping potion weighing your body down. But it was enough to catch his attention. Because he let out a small gasp and a whisper of your name as if he couldnt believe you were awake. You slowly blinked your eyes open squinting at the sun coming from the other side of the room. His face was one of shock, his beautiful icy blue eyes looking in your direction, even from this angle you could see the beautiful star burst pattern in them. He stood up while reaching for his wand, ready to grab Matron Blainey. He stopped short when he felt your hand tighten around his as you begged, "No please, let me be with you for a moment. I spoke with her earlier." He sat back down obligingly, you could now see his puffy eyes and the hint of red on his nose and cheeks from crying. Slowly you reached up with your other hand to gently hold his face. Another tear started to roll down his cheek. "Ominis my dear, please dont blame yourself. I had to do it. I had to save the school, I had to save you."

He shook his head. "To hell with the school. The teachers could have handled it. You've saved it before so why must you again? I should have stopped you. I should have begged you. Anything to get you to come to safety!" His words were cut off by another sob and you took the chance to stop his spiralling.

"They needed me, they needed my powers. They're strong but they needed my magic to put a stop to it. I'm sorry I didn't explain more but I had to go. The longer i took the worse the aftermath wouldve been." Your voice was almost a haze as you did your best to keep yourself from crying.

"You said ...'I love you'." His voice trailed off with that statement. It hung in the air like a question, a plea to know what you meant.

"I thought I'd never see you again. I wanted you to know for a while now. We became so close so quickly and I fell so hard. I couldn't ever get the courage to tell you, I didn't want to lose you over it. But knowing there was a good chance I'd never see you again... I had to tell you." The words just came spilling out. You were anxious to explain, not wanting him to cut in.

He was silent for far too long, his tears had stopped at some point, but your's were welling up. The panic set in, your heart going both too fast and too hard. It hurt so bad, like your heart might break your ribs. He didnt return your feelings. Here you were, ruining one of the few friendships you had because you just had to spill your heart out. Your whole body was trembling and now your tears were streaming non-stop down your face.

He chuckled before bringing your hand to kiss the back of it. "You couldn't find the courage? Well I don't feel like such a coward hearing that. My darling, I have been infatuated with you for so long. I don't know when it turned to love, but it has been that way for a while. You are the warmth of the sun wrapped up as a person. The sweet melody that gets caught and stuck in my head. A cold drink on a hot day. A comforting story after a terrible nightmare. I have bent to your whims when I was solid as stone to others. I would find a way to give you the universe if you so much as hinted that you wanted it. I would do anything if it made you happy, regardless of how it made me feel. I dont know why but something in you pulls me harder then any accio that could ever be performed. I have heard of soulmates and it would be the only explanation I could give right now. I never wish to lose you and it killed me to think I almost did. You feel like safety and comfort to me... I love you so much."

His declaration knocked the wind out of you. How could you respond to that? So you did the only thing you could think of within your physical abilities. You pulled his hands back towards you and kissed both of them. "How could i go anywhere when the one place i want to be is with you?"

[nerves-nebula]

I am violent and ill.

My anger drives me so greatly it makes my stomach churn and I grow nauseous.

I am sick and it fuels a fire that sits in my guts and gives me a desire to rip and break and scream.

I am broken in a way that he can’t even see as useful.

Leo is studious.

Raph is caring.

Donnie is quiet.

I am a mistake.

(Does he even remember saying that?)

I cannot be what he wants me to be and it burns inside me and I can’t let it out or I will die.

Will I die?

When will I die?

Donnie is ill.

His illness makes him silent, makes him cry. He buries his face in books and screens and underneath blankets. He sobs with his whole body yet makes no sound. His soul is ripped open and his skin is carved through and I help him bandage the wounds.

I am not ill like Donnie.

Raph is ill.

His illness eats at his stomach and yet refuses food. He forces himself to care for us even as he suffers. He buries himself in the feeling of hunger and pain until his stomach devours his mind and he loses his ability to remember the pain.

I am not ill like Raph.

Leo is ill.

He doesn’t know it. He doesn’t recognize the signs. The way he pushed himself past his limits, snaps and breaks things that immediately he regrets. He sinks into himself and gains a blank look in his eyes that speaks to the pain he feels.

I am not ill like Raph.

Splinter is ill.

I am ill like Splinter.

I am ill like a man who forces his problems onto the innocent. He breaks and shouts and regrets nothing. He hurts my brothers, hurts me, and he scoffs.

I want to hurt him like he hurts us.

I want to kill him.

I want to feel his blood on my hands and the thought doesn’t even scare me.

It should scare me.

I should be scared to hurt the man who raised me.

He gave me nunchucks.

“An inelegant and ridiculous weapon for an inelegant and ridiculous child.” He said.

I want to take the chain and wrap it around his throat.

I want to take the ends and slam them into his skull.

I am sick.

I am sick and it only makes me angrier.

I am sick and it only makes me angrier and that anger makes me sick.

I want to kill him.

I splash paint on a canvas, shoving my hands into the buckets, forgoing brushes altogether.

My hands are stained with the pigments.

Blues and purples and reds.

My claws chip and crack.

Greens and browns and yellows.

Blood does not dry red.

It stains and turns brown as it cloys and thickens.

Then black as it gathers the dust and dirt of the world around it.

I sew the canvas closed where my nails break through. The hole will never heal, will always been seen, and I want to break it further.

Reds and browns and blacks.

I want to rip and shred with my claws, their edges jagged and broken. I want to see what color he bleeds. I want to know if its red. I want to watch it clump and turn brown and black against stark white canvas.

I am violent and ill.

I am my father’s son.

I need a nap.

——

Having a bad mental health day means I have inspiration to write angst for the babies.

I’d love to do more Mikey studies for this universe. He’s complex and broken and I love him.

-Monster Anon 🐗

VERY RELATABLE also GODDAMN. At this point why dont YOU just write the iteration haha. I love making Mikey the angriest one tbh. Everyone thinks its raph cause raph has resting bitch face, and cause Raph snaps in anger a lot, but the one with the bubbling hatred underneath his skin is our beautiful little goldfish boy <3

loved all the descriptions of violence tbh. reminds me of how furious i would get back when i lived with my family, especially with my brother. if im still honest i kind of regret not stabbing him, but i know it was for the best that I didn't. oh well!

[dingodad]

how would quadrants work on beforus as opposed to alternia?

i dont have a singular solid answer to this because i think ultimately Beforus was left a blank slate that the reader can and will project different ideologies onto - many see it as equally malevolent to Alternia, i see it as innately benevolent - but i guess i have 2 ideas to add to the conversation.

1) that despite their differing purposes, Beforus just like Alternia operates as a well-oiled machine where every individual has their own position and purpose. so despite its distinctly less authoritarian bent, it makes sense that Beforus' quadrants would have a similarly utilitarian nature to Alternia's

and 2) Scratch didn't make anything on Alternia from whole cloth; everything on Beforus was in some way bent into a shape that better suit him. so no matter how different the quadrants might be on each planet, there should remain a kernel that is easily recognisable to us. (in much the same way matespritship is the "closest parallel" to what we call human love, or how what jack noir and the queen have going on is "a dead ringer" for kismesissitude. the general rule seems to be that the existence of these relationships are universal truths, even if the way they are used on Alternia may be peculiar to that situation).

so in that sense it's easy to see how moirallegience probably remained pretty similar across the scratch. the romantic ideal of moirallegience people tend to think of today, where trolls from different positions in the hemospectrum are able to directly benefit each other (i.e. a calming influence from a lower blood in exchange for physical protection from a higher), is even pretty similar to the existing social structure on Beforus as we understand it - though you could also argue that makes it somewhat redundant. (I guess this also depends on how much one chooses to buy into the idea of highbloods as naturally tending toward violence.)

kismesissitude is obviously a bit harder to imagine. while it's never been totally clear in what way Alternians benefit from the institution of kismesissitude, other than that it is somehow necessary for their form of reproduction (and it's not even totally clear this form of reproduction is the same on Beforus), we do have a pretty full picture of the caliginous quadrant's more cosmic purpose. it transforms the deeply mythical battle between protagonist and antagonist, hero and villain, green cherub and red cherub, into an intimately interpersonal relationship; it is storytelling-as-romance. it shares this systematic nature with moirallegience, so i certainly think it's something Beforans would be interested in as a practice. but how that practice realises itself, again, largely depends on what you see Beforus as like more broadly. do Beforans use kismesissitude in its most literal form, as a way of stamping down evil? (I have argued in the past that Beforus was probably a lot like the world of classic comic books, so this one is a fun possibility to me.) or maybe, in the absence of the kind of overt evils that define Alternia, Beforans use it to elevate lesser conflicts into a kind of performance?

a third factor to take into account could also be that what we know of Beforus largely comes as call-and-response to reader reactions to Alternia and its cast of characters. so in the same vein as my cutesy moirallegience suggestion above, maybe the Beforan version of the black quadrants is literally just the cutesy fanfic kismesissitude where an auspistice gets called in whenever it starts to look like it's going too far. (auspisticism is an interesting one to take into account because its entire existence on Alternia is predicated on the fact that kismeses love to cheat on each other. is pitch infidelity even an issue on Beforus on a remotely similar scale? again, this is a huge "depends" which might drastically alter how you approach this whole topic).

but that's my two cents :)

[aggressivenesswhilecrying]

Dante, do you like that slow burn?

Summery:

Ren and martyn are the final two, all their allies and enemies are dead. And on the black heart alter, ren and martyn stand, axe and sword in hand.

Martyns entire life revoles around his king, he knows ren better than he knows himself. And he knows ren isn't made for spring. And well. Martyn will always follow were his king goes.

TW!! MAIN CHARACTER DEATH, HURT NO COMFORT, VIOLENCE!!

Beta read and edited!!

(This is for day one of treebark week, prompt flower/frost!!)

The air is turning warm finally in dogwarts, and the two who rule over it stand on th black heart altar. The king and his hand. Winter has finally passed, and ice and snow are melting away to reveal green grass. The trees are decorated in blossoms, and birds are singing happily. The air tastes like pollen in ren and martyn’s mouths.

Red winter has passed. And spring has come.

And yet there is still red decorating the ground. Poppies burst from the ground, and the tops of beetroots. Red winter has passed and yet a cardinal sits proudly in the tree overhead. Tilting its head as it gazes at the two. Wonder in its sound.

Spring is here, and the light and growth are returning to dogwarts in every way they possibly can.

And there are only two left. Two stand on the ruined earth. They won. It’s, well, it’s almost over. They have almost done it. Soon, there will be nothing but whispers of their lives in these abandoned walls. Ren's ears are low, his sunglasses discarded on the ground, tail between his legs. His hair is matted, and his crown long since gone. His cape curled up at his feet, and Martyn wants to weep. His classic green hoodie is stained brown, red having soaked in. The time is pink now, it’s green, it’s beautiful and alive, life takes over the corpses of their enemies. And yet here two dead men walking are. They aren't made for the gentle spring.

They made the winter with their bare hands, it’s far too late for them to bloom into spring.

Martyn can feel his torn jean shorts against his legs. His sandals painfully digging into his feet, the red winter axe in his hand held tight. He can feel the shaking of despair traveling up his spine. It leaves him feeling breathless and his knee’s shaking.

No matter how gentle the air is, he can't seem to breathe right. He feels sick to his stomach.

Death game. It’s in the name. Everyone dies. Everyone kills each other. Teams are never meant to last here. No. They rot, and fall away like old wood. Lasting for the moment, but after a while, after rain, it always rots away, it always opens up to a hole.

Death game.

They have to kill each other. After all this time they have to tear their weapons through beautiful, loved skin. Skin they grew to worship. Kisses whispered prayers late at night during the beginning of the end. The skin of those they love so deeply. The skin they cared for in the deepest parts of their souls, the skin they both vowed to try to keep safe from harm.

The ax falls from martyn’s hand, and he lets out an ugly sob, back shaking as he loses even more breath in his air from his lungs, he brings the balls of his hands to his eyes each, voice raw as tears start to run down his face, slowly he hears the sound of ren dropping his own weapon, and it’s slow, hesitant even, before ren is running, desperate to get to martyn.

Steps once slow, now quick and rushed as there is no longer any space between them, ren clawing, latching onto martyn, claw like nails digging into clothing, and almost skin as he tugs martyn to his chest. His own breathing is shaky. And his own tears coming to his eyes, there is no space between them to even breathe as he holds martyn like his life depends on it.

If anything Ren is safer away from martyn, but at this point, they don't even care.

“Gods- i- fuck ren, i dont want to, i dont want to do this..!!'' Martyn's voice is a wet scream near the end as he curls into the rough and worn fabric, tears falling like a waterfall, soaking into ren clothing. Rens head settles on top of martyns own, and the king shakes and hiccups, his own tears falling into martyn’s hair, it’s almost nice to know that ren is feeling the same way martyn is right now, just a little bit of reassurance, a “maybe he loves me too, maybe it was true.” but Martyn knows it was. Martyn knows how honest Ren is, and he could not have faked that long, looked into Martyn's eyes, and lied for that long. He knows Ren loved him. And he loves Ren the same. Of course he does. How could he not?

He loves Ren with everything he is. He loves Ren with everything in his soul. He has given his life to ren, every single life. He has listened to every single command ren has ever dished out. He has given everything to ren, loved ren like how someone would love a prayer. It’s all their wishes, dreams, deepest fears. It’s everything they are, is only a few words. Or in this case, one man.

“I don't want to either..”

The silly accent is dropped of ren shivers against martyn, hand tangling into his hair as he holds on like his life depends on it. Like it's his entire life on the line. And he cries. Ren lets out a deep sob, and he cries. Full of love for martyn, love for the home they built. And hate, hate for the situation and how he cant do anything to change their fate.

He can't fix anything, this is the end after all.

Martyn tilts his head up just barely, looking at Ren with tear filled eyes. And he makes a decision as he looks at ren. He makes a decision he could never take back.

He meets Ren's eyes, and for one final moment, one moment of love, he whispers the words he’s meant for ages, in reality, it has only been maybe 8 weeks, but they mean so much more than he’s willing to admit. And he kisses ren.

His king's lips are chapped and scratches against his painfully, but he doesn't so much as care about how it hurts, no, he focuses on the way Ren sobs into his lips. How his grip tightens on martyn. How everything feels like it’s crashing in. He lets himself enjoy it, just for a moment, a moment of peace, of happiness. A moment of love in the end.

Martyn couldn't tell you how long they spent like that, desperate for every moment they can get, holding onto each other lips pressed against each other, breath stolen in these moment, and tears shed, they could have spent hours like that for all they knew, they could have spent years holding each other and it wouldn't have made any difference to them. Cuz in the end they still pull away, they still separate, and they still know what has to happen. There is no other option, no other choice, no other way out.

And so, they get into fighting stances on either side of the altar, they leave the sentimental weapons on the side, and they weep oh so openly. As they prepare to fight, to kill each other in cold blood on the altar that means oh so much to them, they raise their fists, getting ready, a sob racks through ren, he leaves his sunglasses off, and red eyes hold onto red eyes, as they wish, and pray this wasn't the way it ends.

The first hit is thrown by Martyn, because he knows Ren won't take it, he knows Ren won't throw it, so he does. Martyn hears his fist connect with Ren's face, he doesn't see exactly where, but he can feel it through his entire arm.

Like a racing fire up his body, the bloodlust of being red starts to cloud his mind. He feels the fog fill his mind. But he knows he won't win. He knows it. And so he lets Ren take the next, he gives the act of missing as Ren takes another. Martyn lets it happen, because he’s just the king's hand, his role is to give everything to his king, his lord. It’s his job to let Ren take swing, after swing. It’s his job to fall to his knees, and even further as Ren doesn't stop. The redness in his eyes near glowing as he throws hit, after hit.

Martyns face isn't right, and the humid air leaves him feeling sticky. Ren does not relent, even as martyn face turns into some shape it was not supposed to be before, as it no longer looks like martyn, it doesn't even look human to some degree, no, he can't see anymore. Martyn can't see, and he isn't able to talk right, but try as he might, he whispers the words, over, and over, and over again. Broken prayers, to the god that is harming him, in a voice that it can't even hear. Broken and sorrowful declarations to the man he deems his god. To the man he devoted every whim of his life to.

Declarations of love. Of home. Of everything he can say. But Ren will never hear them, as Martyn's voice is drowned out by the blood that fills his mouth. His world is spinning, and he promises that it’s all rens, but all ren can hear is painful gurgling. All Ren is able to feel is shame. All that is there, is martyns bloodied body on the ground below him.

All that remains is a man made god, sobbing at his lover's feet. All that remains is a body that drifts off into dust in the wind. And a man with bloodied fists crying over a pool of red. Whispering his own prayers, and sorrows, and his own declarations of how if the gods aren't cruel, then maybe they will get another shot at this, another life time together, another maybe, and another please, and another im sorry. And everything he can give to the space that once hosted martyn. Another i love you, maybe he deserves this. To lose a lover he held so close, maybe he did something, in some other life, to be the sole survivor in such a painful way.

Ren stumbles over his feet, reaching, begging his arms to grab onto the sword. Praying that as he thrusts the blade into his chest, that him and martyn can be somewhere else, at another time. Maybe they could have lived in a small cottage on the hill, maybe their story doesn't always end in red and death, maybe they mold themselves for spring.

[sevenrs]

hi sky :']

8 9 10 maybe ?

violence ask game ; OPEN

hi pipa

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

artificer is pebbles barn cat. rivulet is a short time visitor of moon. sig didn't expect hunter to come back (and it didn't), challenges aren't canon but if they were i'd be a bit pissed if a green bean killed me after i tried so hard to stop it

iterators having little kitties is a fun thought but. thats it. a fun thought. not something that actually happened to most iterators

i will forever die on the hill that suns and spearmaster are odd. because iterators were built with the morals that creatures are "lesser" than them and need to be "helped" (not something i agree w personally but. its in the text.) the fact that suns started getting attached to spearmaster is implied that it is supposed to be embarrassing (nsh: im gonna tell everyone this juicy information~) because it doesnt happen and like. being attached to a lesser creature? lol?

look. no REAL problem with everyone associating an iterator with a slugcat and drawing them like companions for a bit im just forever a strong believer that suns is fucking weird!!!

9. worst part of canon

its still the puppet face articulation thing. and as much as i love suns, their reason for not giving spearmaster a mark of communication really didnt matter because, even ignoring the unnaturality of spearmaster, it was traveling with a RED OVERSEER. already obvious that slugcat is special

10. worst part of fanon

this is probably my anxiety talking but i sometimes feel a bit squished. im neutral abt a lot of things in fanon and dislike shipping but i never really get to say anything or complain because im afraid of. either actually ruining someones fun or getting the "you're ruining our fun!" excuse every time an aro and/or ace person dares to talk about how ship-centric fandom can feel at times and how that can be alienating

i keep stressing. theres literally nothing wrong with shipping of any kind. i hope you all keep doing what you're doing forever and ever! (hi pipa. love that you basically pioneered an entire ship and never ever stop posting about it) i just dont know what is appropriate complaining and what is overstepping into rude territory

[trulies]

Hello, i was wondering if i could receive a match up from you for the fandom Gotham(and if you dont know the series, than the batman trilogy series), specifically the villains(i prefer them so much more then the heroes)

I’m Ghost, I am Aquarius born, ISTP personality, and I’m panromantic with a male lean, with any pronouns.

im 5’5, shoulder length blonde, pale ivory skin tone, Grunge aesthetic and Green/hazel eyes, I have been told by a few of my friends that I look like a middle age man who either only drinks coffee or whiskey.

I have trust issues, I tend to be stand off-ish to people and prefer to be alone in dark and quite places, though I am open and happy around people I feel like I can trust, I’m a bit chaotic and tend to get out of hand when it comes to things I am passionate about, and I like to have deep meaningful conversations with people.

I like most parts of nature, like flowers, bugs, animals, and the sounds, I listen too Grunge, emo, rock, metal, and punk bands, I do a lot of art, i enjoy drawing plants and my ocs, In my free time I do art, I read, write, and watch anime, some of my favourites are Death parade, demon slayer, and skate the infinity, I play a lot of video games, like Resident evil(I love anything horror and gory), Danganronpa, Kingdom hearts and Animal crossing, and to put in record, im unbeatable at riddles and problem solving stuff.

I hate jerks, bullies, people that are clingy and/or loud, I dislike red meats, I have Emetophobia and Trypanophobia, and I hate going out to public places like stores and restaurants for long perriods of type.

Have a good day/night

YOUR MATCHUP IS....

JONATHAN CRANE!!

You met at school, you were new. Originally, nothing stood out to him other than your style, as you often kept to yourself and to your friends.

But gradually, things changed as your presense in the school became strong. It began with how you talked back to the popular kids when they tried to tease other students. And one day, the talk turned into violence when they decided you had become a threat to their reputation. You fought back, fists and all, and after that day, they messed with you no longer. Even if you caught them harassing anyone in the school, they would hesitate to go any further once they saw you. Living in Gotham, your family made sure you had taken self defense classes and so now, you could handle yourself at least among your peers.

Jonathan was observed this all, and he admired your ability to have demanded respect so early on in your transfer to this school. From that day on, you would notice him staring at you at random. He was taking mental notes of the interests and hobbies you had. This escalated into him strangely appearing in the same rooms as you whenever possible. He had joined the art class you signed up for, and you found out he was an excellent artist.

It became obvious he wanted to befriend you, but he was too meek and awkward. You made it easy on him by initiating a conversation about his art, and slowly but surely you became close. He was intrigued as every week you gradually unearthed your true self. You weren't as intimidating as most of the school thought. You were playful, adventurous, impulsive, and creative, and together you had so many deep conversations.

You were the perfect distraction from his life of fear and darkness. He didn't feel like he was living sometimes; every day was more like one of survival. But you helped him to find normalcy and gave him the opportunity to experience relief from the grip of his ever present anxiety. It felt like getting his childhood back. To the days when the future was bright and happy.

[solardick]

If you ask me, green?

It's a primary. Colour.it is, it's every where beyond blue green here is everywhere. I'm not caring

If its part of two other colours , it takes from The yellow of the sun. And the . blue. From the sky. Put then together and you go. Red colour is the one that doesn't belong red is a hidden colour and with it sharp attention. Sharp to denote the presence of thorns. it belongs to delicacy and to the reception of war. It marks endings. To fiddle with it is to risk life.

To see where I'm going with this. There's always one that doesn't belongs to another order. Don't ask me. The demon in red. That’s why pink is so awesome. It’s red. But with a lot of white. If evil was to be any colour. It would defiantly be red. Personal bias. Here. It’s the serpent and the dove. Except that it’s not black and white to create a boring grey. Noont likes grey ok. It’s black or it’s white.

Thats pretty gay.

Dont call it pretty! …well, what do you want from me. I hang with a bunch of fags all day.

Naw, its a cool colour. Denotes happiness. White is the shade wanted anyway. It means clarity and mind. As in white is light. It’s receptive on the side of light. What ever little black there is in the red. Shows an imperfect nature but capable. Shows there is a trace shadows but that one has a handle on them. Bringing with it a sense of comfort to vulnerability and loss potential. Or soemsuch. I dont know.

The whole lgtbq whatevee community could have just taken pink. But no, they take everyother coulour but pink. So, im a little confused about wtf?! Its the god damned colinization of the americas all over again. Nothing learnt.

Peace and love may suck my balls. And i mean that. Wouldn’t trust in rage and carnage to do that. No sir.

Oops. <- see that there? That’s what you call artistry. oO fool. When thise connections hint. Outside previous script. That is fun.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

What of the word oops? There’s none other like it, that starts with Oo. Not common parlance.

😆

Nope sorry not going to sleep. I have trauma to do.

Sex is the only thing i had. And i kept it to myself. And now its broken. I dotn want to be alive anymore. Oh well giess im not even allowed to masterbate. I never was allowed to care about anything. Im not even even allowed to mnow what freedom feels like. Hahaha 39 years and counting.

Well i can get nothign else from tarot. Im done. Now what? Its not like j can do this with a person. Vedio games drugs and alcohol. If they didnt want me doing it. It wodbt be so easily attainable. Its all just a walk down the block.

Yay a fantasy wothout the deive and the deive wothout the fantasy. Yay. Fuck i need some pussy. Ones artificail injected and conditioned and the other is nature. You can tell the difference. And all it serves is to retard development. And now i can allow see women in a derogotory way. And now i see gays in a derogetory way. One allows me to get off. Seems for rewarding. Oh well, still got degenerate hetero males. Guess yhats my life. Serrounded by bs. And nothig to live for. Hey nothing has changed but hey at least the destabilizing attacks are mostly gone. No more violence coming from without. I leanred thats its ok coming from others not from oneself. Pressures and stresses have been scales down. No more freakign out. And sayign stupid shit. Droped the stupid ass australian whore. I liked here for what she had underneath. She played shit. I gave it back. It was fun. She enjoyed it. I didnt. But. Whatever. Thats all i ever do. Fight back get punished for it. Thats life.

I always tried to bring out that little sparkle some of them have inside. And i did on some account to a coupel of them. But most if them or ghosts. And morons. Like me but in an non- intently destructive way. On well. Peoplw ahve litterally been shocing their cocks at me somce i was like 6. So whatever. Continue on. Its all theres ever been. Sorry we’re. Ot allowed talkign. Cus im sexy and your a whore.

So, as we wait on the development of thos queer ass script that i managed to salvage to some degree. Guess ill be waiting to see what guy im going to be set up with to get fucked. No no im not here to reproduce. Or produce anything. Im just here to be fucked. Plain and simple. 39 years have taught. Ir the o ly thing im good for. Wo der of their still comig. Into my appartment and drugging my food

Pretty sure my fakily was dosing me with anti-spychotics. That and the anti-depressants probably fucked me up. All those years just a potato. Wonder what feeling loved and accepted by a girl feels like. I wonder what not havong a wall of stress feels like. Theres always a threat. Indotn know what life is with out that either. Cones hand and hand with stress. Well its 2:30 i aint sleeping. Probably dosed. Again. Aint no full moon. Isnt natural. Ate nothign but sleepy food. Oh well ill just stay born serpeunded by ignorance neglect, violence and sex. Thats all life is.

Anyway thats why pussies are pink. They are full of white. With the occasional red. I dont make up the rules. And be wary of anyone that gives an insult as a compliment. It mixes insult (primate shit) to that of love.

This also shows to be wary of mixing images of significance with that of language. These images need to be carefully chosen. Or these images become apart of the everyday functioning of communication.

Even though how much i like the Oo death card, for its beauty it is a dominantly feminine, receptive signifier for sex. The added notion that i comes from a deck called something similar to; un jeux de carte des dames. A woman’s card game. Crowley in his honesty didn’t even try to hide it. His spychedelic bad trips mixed in with the perversion of sexuality. Shows credit to the 1960’s hippy movement trashing natural experience. As serves the moon landing, for man kind to the new age, to the receptive motives of nourishing basic desires over the rational.

The Russians tried to get it first? Im not so sure. Isnt really their p.o. Anywai leanred in elementary school that the austrailians are the last country(apart of the good union to be set for assimilation. For the nuclear fallout will take some time to drift over that continent. But it will eventually. You’d figure otherwise, basing on the facts that the country was inhabited by criminals and pirates. And that their national holidays are about the invasion of war and its victory. Where as the americas are based upon the freedom and emancipation. Theres no celebration of the initiatory acts of war. Just the closing of it. Well the amerivan sid eof it anyway. The canadian side, pulled down their pants and said we give up. Dont hurt us. Celebrating canada day is kind of pathetic. The flag of the fallen leaf. Surrounded by red and white. Shows the beauty of death and acceptance of detachment. The bleeding sect. Not all that different from the nazi flag. Symbolizing peace, fortune and the full repetition of life based upon the gamma influence. Considering that both sides of the war. Stopped killing wach other and celebrated christmas together shows that their motives are one and the same thing. It be risky to say that the nazi parties veiled by death and destruction and the Canadian are the same thing. The only bit pf difference is the colour black. Which shows a hint of violence compared to the all white (pink) of the flag. One side had a steinger focus on death( canada) and the other on life (the swastika). The flag of the rising sun isnt all that different either. Not to mention that at the same time the americas were floodign with foreign philosophy and “spychology” which is a feminine name came right out of the holocaust. Speaking about the anima and animus found inside the brains of man and woman. Freud with his evwrythign is a penis and Jung with his, you have a little woman inside. Embrace it. Which would seem about eight considering all he ever side was intruded himself inside the minds of patients. Placing them of the receptive side of experience. The name of the game is to take over that position. While in that state theres no act forward.for being receptive to the act of law and regulation. Isnt enough. They want more.

For all the people that think the WW’s wasn’t an inside job. Anyway theres nothing to do about it if one wants to be apart of the world amd its accompanied personalized cultural heritage.

Just the external demon doing it’s thing. Got to control one’s projection towards available rewards. The more of the spyche that is externalized the better. From there two may easily fiddle with experience. While the life affirming are also being prohected by consequence. A pretty little thing may catch the projection with ease. As long as its fix and out. It cant be inside and life affirming. The longing for a legitanite need for nourishment and peace, while being receptive and accommodating, lacking any volatility one may find after just reading that. Sadly, thats not the case. Volatility abounds. While the prjection is no longer there the fantasy has say, and the internalization of Want and Need. Adopting the influence with ease. Since its mostly just internally created images anyway. For the complete lack of any authenticity, and prosocial behavior. The nothings of 0. One starts to imagining what two is like. The fantasy pictures possibilities.

All lack of “masculine movement”, gives nothing to motivation. All acts forward have been framed to loss. The only choice is nullification. Or dullification. I know, it’s “not” a word. I dont have a sidewalk. Its just a stream. One walks up it. Past it and see’s everything. The touch choices are choice comfort, and the creation of sensuous desire. Or its the group dynamic. Now here also depends ipon ehat cloud of information is raining fury upon it. If its not a choice, there’s only decay.

“Yah, i ain’t walking up those steps. Do you see whats up there? They can howler down like a murder of crows.

For example;

War doesn’t mean war. A crunch of violent vulnerability, fear, ignorance, and promises. Being filled in like a vessel. The mind fills the moon and a desire for reception. R and W overlap with the number 18. W is letter 23. (5 for the fool and the king) and temperance is number 14. 23-14= 9.. Card for the hermitic wisdom. Or the i-card for joy. i to j. Joy to chariot . 23+14= 37. Minus the tarot equals number 16, the tower or to P the hanged man. The enlightenment.

While MAN equals the wheel, the fool and strength.

Where as Woman has the added Moon and O death cards.

The wheel turns and nature along with it. Save it the wheel card itself might active production and not “corrective conditioning.” If ine is just going to mix everything together. In the same pool of water. Like the beautiful star card does. The word for Moon is pretty much the same. A wheel, an O fool, and strength. Which seems to equal woman over man. The double dose of masculine colours are reflected by a doudle dose of feminine images. And now the whole script itself becomes projected onto reality. If one were to ever mistake it as not being a game.

So bye bye tarot. Ive been glied to a tv for 30 plus years. I have nothign to gain from this that isnt encumbering. Theres no eauality. Just a one sided crime. The mind starts raping itself because both side are incompatible. Forcing a submission for the desire for peace. Doesnt matter if its artificially produced by outside forces. And it means the death of the natural function of sustaining life. The genome becomes less important. For sex and death have been combined. The french called it, “le petit mort.” There’s only an external masculine image conditioned by two parts woman and one part man. If it had any opportunity to grow. Otherwise one becomes an over feminized. If choice was made against any better alternatives.

Its just when it on active engagement with life does the conditioning take second seat. No longer consequential, if attention isnt paid to self. And not another. It be so easy to go full woman. And feel liberated from pain and suffering. Forever haunted by “karma” and self - disrespect. Without the choice of doing it oneself. Which is why the image of pride is so important. The internal inage of man crys out to mommy only to be spanked or ignored or laughed at.

If one changes the I-fool for that of the E fool. And coverter strenght as harmony to that of strength as violence. Or over domineering pressence. The then script is how it really is.

While also showing a happy emperor fallowing strict rules of conduct. The eternal child is fulfilled and fun and loving. Not reckless and destructive.

One has to separate and add positive outgoing images of masculine sexuality in place of the Oops card. Lou fucken a tiger works great. The two horses of the chariot arw clasically made to the image of felines. Which again. Is a feminine word. The fact thats its the masculine feline that holds kingship through out the land. Within cultural context inside this cloud of information. The lion is surrounded by active outgoing females. It just protects the nest. As all good males should do. Which requires the use of violence. Ir it cant protect itself from outside threats. Which are always there. And always have been. If your the deer you get taken out. If your the lion. Your more pasificist then the wife. Either or.

Though the tiger does cause some problems considering the japanese/asian influence that place significance on its images and meaning. And to that of the dragon. Especially to that of a dragon with a dove. Which is the equalivant of raping a man. Or to the dragon without the conditioning to that of instincts. But its overall mean is identical to that of the strength card found in tarot. Just the sexes are reversed to ther proper order. Considering how queer that movie was. Holy crap is right.

And just like a soldier, i keep on moving forward. Always getting closer.

🫰🏼��🏼

There’s alot of framing of mind going on.

Save for a moment of shift in experience. When one is found outside the “curse” propelled, when intent or expectation predict an outcome of horror, to the reversal of this experience under a lense of “love” over that of hate. A reversal of dialogue. As the scene switches from the male protagonist and centers on the female antagonist. Being humanized by all the protagonist’s prosocial behaviour. And that event be true. There was always going to be harm coming from the antagonist. Save that now it was unintentional, and deeply sympathetic.

Not mentioning, where FE or SHE play would with cards either. The emperor and the fool. FE.

The devil, the lover, the fool. SHE. There becomes an inconsistency. For FEmale represents rulership. This centers around the FELine. Royal lineage. For both FE and SHE are a feminine tense. Whoch breaks down in the sentence. She the female is queen. Both overlap. As does the devil S make the only distinction from HE. As does HE become the lover and the fool. And becomes a sHE when left to temptation.

[danihwang882]

Hit you with inspiration muse then. MILE HIGH CLUB OR TRAIN CLUB AROUND TWO OTHER MEMBERS. two things i will never do but will for felix and hyunjin. Define when you sneak into the bathroom to fjuck or fuck in the seats of the plane in front of everyone.

Purpose to get him over his fear of heights, and my fear of tublances.

Reminder Bang, you passed this up. So whatever.

THEN BACKSTAB DEEPLY INTO HEART LIKE I WAS. BECAUSE I CAN PULL OUT THOSE SWORDS FROM MY HEART AND EMBRACE MYSELF AND DESNITY AND FATE.

KITTEN WILL CHOOSE TWO THINGS. LOVE AND SEX OR VIOLENCE. how serious am i? very.

Me and my sister in law. We have a mechanic in the family. He will rip the brakes outta your car.

EXACTLY ME AND BANG.

WE TAKE OUR MEDS FOR US FIRST, THE MASSES AS A CLOSE SECOND, THE THIRD STAYS AND FELLOW MEMBERS.

SO NEVER BE ASHAMED OF YOUR MENTAL ILLNESS CHANNIE. I CARE THAT YOU GET BETTER. IT SUCKS BUT YOU HAVE MY FULL SUPPORT. DON'T EVER FORGET THAT DAY YOU TOLD ME TO SEEK HELP FOR MINE. BEST ROLE MODEL EVER.

so does universe when I am around for you!

all it takes is one prayer and 4 days later.

Also I got an message from divive above. Our awakening is in stone in the 3d. So AM i ready? No, but I gotta be regardless. RING OF FIRE, might awaken and it always starts with the Divine Fem.

WHAT i know about Universe, can't ever stop her and God protects even her.

HOW can someone as smol, as me be just a badass in the universe.

it does my heart and soul good to be free!!!!!

This is for Felix only. Wedding song for sure. Dad and Daughter dance and if he doesnt make it. Elder brother and sister dance. T^T

Felix can we actually donate some of the procreeds of the Tokyo Dome Concert to The Ukanine and Russian war? Any little bit helps.

Democaracy has to win yall, regardless of class in this culture. Regardless of the fact RED, BLUE, GREEN, Undecided.

Despite what you as a person or family got going on. Please vote Thump. Or what you feel is right for you. Even if it's like a bullshit sassy/sarcastic remark of like GO FUCK YOURSELF, BIDEN.

Give to military and navy forces please. Our people need it for surviving when they come back. Not many of them do, thats why they have ptsd but choose not to share like some stays family parents dont share with their youngers. Like my family and me.

I've seen the navy's members finincal suffering in my city and they bitch and complain that going off boats is too much to survive. So help them help themselves and their own. But they need that break of civialian life to find a reason to fight on.

Wanna know something GRIEF is a form of PTSD. It tramuaizes but you can heal from it.

GOOGLE proves what I know about me.

Grief and PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) are distinct experiences, but they can occur together1. The main difference is that grief is a normal reaction to loss, while PTSD is a mental disorder2.

no but writing smau is so hard?? like how do I make sure it’s interesting?? I feel like I’m just grasping at straws

[antiwhores]

My dock - human!Bakugou x Mermaid!Reader

Part 1?

Part 2

Part 3

Y/n, a curious mermaid with a knack for trouble meets a human named Bakugou Katsuki. Bakugou, a curious human also with a knack for trouble meets a mermaid named y/n. Interspecies relationships- and even friendships are not allowed in the Mer-creature kingdom. And if people found out Mermaids are real then Y/n would be fish food. Love is hard as fuck.

Quirkless au cause im not tryna deal with him rn, eventual smut, near death experience, suggestive themes, violence, multiple parts.

Sorry ive been gone, im depressed and dont find joy in anything anymore LOL

You first met the blonde human when you were swimming near the shore. You obviously went supposed to be doing that but you were curious. You wanted to see humans even though the danger they hold could kill you.

He was walking on a bridge- well, more like stomping. He looked absolutely pissed, red face with steam practically radiating off of him. He was mumbling things under his breath that you couldn’t make out.

You left after a while of watching him, the sun was setting and you had to go home and catch fish.

The next time you saw him he was lounging by a doc in your special spot. Your beach was in the woods, secluded off unless you knew where you were going. There was a round, yet deep swimming area that sparkled a beautiful light blue. There was also a waterfall that was pretty high up. It was a magical place that you were glad to claim.

You watched from behind a big rock as he fed the ducks. He had a whole loaf of bread that he would break off into small pieces to aggressively throw at the ducks.

You called a duck over with a water wave made by your tail. Most mer-creature could talk to a selective few of animal.

“Who is he?” You whispered. The duck cackled, “Just some human boy. He comes here to feed us every day.” You asked for his name but the duck just flapped his wings. “I think his name was Katsu? I dont know, I’ll try to listen in.”

You thanked the duck and let him go fight for his snack.

Katsu? You thought that name rolled nicely off the tongue.

You continued to watch him from secluded areas for the next 3 weeks. You almost got caught a few times. He would hear you speak a little too loud or make too big of a splash and he would yell “WHOS THERE?” It started you enough each time to not come look for a whole day.

One day when you went up to look for him he wasn’t alone. He was at beach side of it this time with a couple other humans. One with red hair, one with green hair, pink hair, and brown hair. You picked up on their names after a while. Kirishima, Midoriya/Deku (?), Mina, and Uraraka. Later on some more named Kaminari and Iida showed up.

You watched them play around and practically beat each other up. Humans are so weird.

Apparently, Katsu lost a bet. Well, you learned his name was also Bakugou, Katsuki, and Kacchan. You’ll stick to Katsu since theres so many.

Kirishima dared Bakugou to jump off of the water fountain. You almost yelped out a protest once Bakugou agreed. It wasn’t safe! There were weeds at the bottom which would grab you and never let go! You had been working on getting rid of them all but there were still a few left.

And just as you thought, once he jumped he was stuck. You watched as he struggled under the grip of the weeds. You couldn’t just let him die! Before you knew it you were swimming over there full speed.

He looked at you threw wide eyes, you could tell he was loosing his breath. He tried to say something but only bubbles came out. You grabbed his face ad signaled for him to open his mouth. He did almost immediately, he must’ve been getting desperate.

You shoved your mouth against his, blowing air into his mouth which he greedily sucked up. You weren’t supposed to do that and you knew you’d be questioned and scolded for even letting a human know you existed. It was called the eternal breath. It allowed him to breath and talk under water with out it being drowned out for up to five minutes depending on how much you blew.

You signaled for him to breath and he gave you a crazy look. His cheeks were flustered and he didn’t know what to do. You hoped that wasn’t his first kiss or something, even though it was yours. You leaned into his ear and whispered, “Trust me Katsu.”

A wave of relief hit you once he did it. He looked at you in bewilderment, “What the fuck?! What the FUCK?!” You flinched but still made you way down to his feet. “You have a fucking tail?! What the fuck is going on?!” You shook your head, “No I don’t.” “What the FUCK!?”

You cut him free with your nails and signaled for him to go. He shook his head, “No! What kind of shit is this?! You have a tail!” You groaned, started to blush at the way he looked at you. He was even more handsome up close like this. “Either you leave or your gonna die in 1 minute once my breath wears out.”

You heard him yell after you once you began to swim away. You hid behind the entrance just to make sure he got up okay. You were on the verge of tears, you could get in so much trouble. What if he’s a bad guy and he’s gonna call his human hunters on you?

You practically gasped when he decided not to tell anyone of you. His friends crowded him, some in tears asking if he was okay. He just swatted them away and told them to fuck off. On that note you left.

You didn’t come back for 2 weeks. You were scared of coming back to traps and spears. The ducks reported to you instead. He has been coming every single day and staying for not just his usual 10 minutes but 3 hours. He sits there studying the water and calling out to any sudden movement from nature.

You couldn’t help your curiosity after that and the next day you showed up to watch him. You watched as he ate from his basket of what you think is called… Fruits? He lounged on the dock with no shirt on. His skin was tanned and golden.

You practically jumped once he called out to you. “Hey!” You dove back behind the rock. He rose to his feet, “No, no, no! Come back!” You slowly peaked behind the rock. He smirked, whispering “I knew you were real” before holding out a red fruit. “I got this for you.”

You came out behind the rock more to study the apple. You hissed at him thinking it was poisonous. He gave you an offended look, “What’re you scared of a fucking apple? Look.” He took a huge bite out of the thing and chewed. You watched closely as he swallowed it. “See?”

You sighed and finally just swam over to him. He sat down right off the edge and held the apple out to you. You quickly grabbed it and swam as fast as you could behind the rock.

You took a suspicious bite, it was… delicious! He chuckled as your face lit up. You took another bite, giving him a quizzical look. “Come here, ill give you another one.” You hesitantly swan over to him. But just as you were about to grab the apple he yanked it above his head. “Tell me your name.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms around your chest. “You can have all my fruits if you tell me your name.” You thought about it for a second. You could be hunted down for this. And you could be in deep shit if the council found out. But for some reason, you trusted this man.

A loud huff came out of your mouth, “y/n.”

[rywritten]

Ooh, for a request, either Herd/Flock/Group dynamic, or Giving each other little gifts, whatever floats your boat (pairing doesn't matter, could be all three <3)

im all for sap and techno spoiling dream with little gifts that mean a lot 😔❤️💚🤍

Techno:

It was just a flower, it didn't mean anything and it shouldn't mean anything.

but dream had insisted to keep it, and the smile on his lips when he asked techno if he looked pretty with the flower on his hair was something techno was sure he'll never forget.

so he ends up buying him more, a lot more.

lilacs, to symbolize first love.

red roses, for a deep romantic love.

spider lilies, because he was told once that the flowers were meant for the heavens; and to techno, dream had always been otherworldly, celestial even.

and then the marigolds, to symbolize passion, a sacred offering to the gods.

and as techno contemplated the meaning behind such a fragile looking flower, he couldn't help but marvel at the irony.

here he was, the god of blood and violence, giving a moral his offerings. a flower's ephemeral beauty should mean nothing to him and yet he's found himself drowning in their meaning, in his emotions, in his unrelenting love for dream.

it should scare him, how much he's willing to sacrifice for this man.

but he sees it in the way dream's eyes gets softer, in the way his hands would hold each flower as if they were something worth cherishing and for a moment techno is struck with the idea that he would give up anything just to make sure the smile on dream's lips would always stay as beautiful and as genuine.

Sapnap:

the ring is light, almost feather like in his hands as sapnap rolled it around his fingers absentmindedly.

it looked pretty when he spotted it on his way home from the market and the seller had been insistent that he kept it, saying something about a tale of lost love and how the ring chooses its owner.

and who was sapnap to decline such an offer?

dream doesn't really care for accessories all that much, and he isn't really the type to enjoy extravagant gifts, so a free little ring from the market sounded just about right for him.

at least, that's what sapnap was hoping for.

they're sitting near the lake now, with their feet dangling dangerously by the docks and dreams laughing about something bad had said earlier but sapnap's too distracted by the ring to really pay attention to what the joke was about.

"you still with me?" dream touched his shoulder lightly to try and get his attention and sapnap answers him immediately.

"always."

"then what's got you zoning out on me today?" dream snorts, but there's a glint in his eyes like he knows something's up and he's just waiting for sapnap to burst and say what's on his mind.

so he does.

"ever wonder if it's possible to enchant a ring?"

"what do you mean?"

"i dont mean the kind for invisibility or strength, just..." sapnap closes his eyes and pushes through "they say that it's possible for two people to be bound together to the point where their souls are linked, connected in a way that when they pass, their souls would always try to find each other."

"so, there's this ring." sapnap pulls it out of his pockets and shows it to dream. "and look it may sound pretty stupid, but the seller told me this ring wanted to be with me and its got the same shade of green as your eyes and for some fucking reason, i believe it."

"believe what?" dream asked, voice soft and fragile like he's not quite sure what to make of sapnap's messy confession.

"that this ring was enchanted somehow, that it was looking for me because it knows ill be able to lead it back to you." sapnap takes dream's hands carefully and gently places the ring on his finger.

"a perfect fit." dream whispers, awestruck and ever so beautiful.

"yeah." sapnap couldn't help but agree as he link their hands together, enjoying the way their fingers slotted together perfectly and kissing the back of dream's hand all the while.

"a perfect fit." he repeats.

[nygmobblepot-trash]

Riddler and Oswald laying on a floor of a metal warehouse out of breath, surrounded by unmoving people.

Oswald: "You know... you better start... saving... me... if... you want... to catch...up... to me."

Riddler only struggles to catch his breath.

Oswald: ".. Really? You never... not have anything to... say." Oswald coughs from straining his lungs. He should probably take Ed's lead and save his voice. It was odd though considering it is typically Ed who hates the room not being filled with his own annoying voice.

Oswald heard Ed's breaths get slower and farther inbetween. He was done regaining his breath, where was the arguing. "Hey." Oswald gripped his cane and rolled on his right side to face Ed. "The least you could do is answer me for saving your life. Actually thanking me would be, but we all know that is never going to happen."

With no response Oswald went to his go to. Violence. Oswald wacked his cane hard against Ed's leg.

"I don't get it." Riddler finally mumbled.

Oswald laughed dryly as he rolled up on his arms to push himself off the warehouse floor"That's a fir-"Oswald's stomach hit the floor. When Oswald first had turned to face Ed all he could see was his legs. They hadn't exactly collapsed eye to eye next to each other. If he had he probably wouldn't have been acting as he was.

The Riddler wasn't gasping for air because they had just got down fighting his abductors. No he was struggling to stay alive.

Shit.

"Edward!" Oswald screamed as he crawled his way over to the man. "Why didn't you saying anything you fucking idiot? That's what I dont get!" Oswald panicked as he noticed Ed's green suit was turning red. "When the hell did you get shot?"

The Riddler turned his head and spit up blood before he continued, "I told you love is a weakness and you didn't listen... You never listen... I didn't love you, so why am I the one that is going to die?"

"Of course you're going to be an asshole right now." Oswald took one of his hands off of Ed's hand that was putting pressure on his gushing wound. "Listen for once in your awful life. I know you, better than anyone else, including you. You're the Ri- question guy... whatever, in high stress situations Edward creates personalities to deal with that situation. His first girlfriend was in love with confidence cool assholes." Oswald pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly flipped it open. "He didn't like the boyfriend, so who was the only other person to model this new personality after? Me. You can deny it all you want, but what other reason would that idiot have for going anywhere near me that day in the precinct. This is why when you found me in the snow that day you took me back to his place. You needed me to finish creating you." Oswald quickly pushed buttons on his phone trying to get to a certain contact. "You may talk a lot but that's all smoke and mirrors. Your actions are the real you. You can lie all you want but you aren't in control of your actions, Edward. Your mind rejects your lies so much it forces you to do what you really want."

Riddler opened his mouth to deny Oswald's claims, but he was at a lost for words. After all he had just remembered where the bullet nested inbeween his ribs was from. It was quick. He hadn't thought about it all, if he had the conversation the two men were having would be much different. Oswald was about to kill what he thought was the last kidnapper when the actual last one was pointed his gun right at Oswald's back. Riddler had noticed, of course he had. Riddler shot at man while he moved to stand behind Oswald. Getting shot wasn't an issue. He had felt the pain before. Pain was just an emotion, right? Just something new to block. He was a pro at this already. In love with your boss? Block it. Feel guilty for killing him? Block it. So he did. He quietly covered the wound with his hand and stepped to his right before he fell backwards. He had heard Oswald swear about how tired he was and collapse backwards as well. Riddler remembered feeling relieved that Oswald wouldn't be able to see anything but Riddler's feet from the angle until he got up. He just wanted some peace and quiet. It was a lot of work blocking everything, but Oswald refused to shut up. Then Riddler couldn't take it anymore and asked his question. And that's how he got here. Why he went through the last 5 minutes again was beyond him. He had to focus on something besides Oswald yelling into his phone.

"Jim I am serious! Anything you want, please. He isn't talking anymore and we both know how bad that is.... oh God he's so pale too!"

"Why the hell am I on speaker phone, Jim? Yes Harvey, I know Nygma is always pale but he got paler some how."

Riddler couldn't even make out Oswald anymore. He was just a black blur at this point. Even his words got farther and farther away.

He had blocked his emotions in order to protect himself, but what good had it done him. Being alone didn't protect him. Oswald is the only reason he had made it that far in the first place. The conclusion? He was wrong. Love isn't a weakness. If he got a second chance Riddler decided he would unblock everything he had been keeping down. After that he would finally live the life he wanted. He wasn't sure if Oswald was right or not, but he is willing to test it once and for all. It was a good thought though, a thought he would drift off to.

Gordon and the ambulance had arrived as Riddler shut his eyes and stopped moving.

Gordon and Harvey both had to physically remove Oswald from Riddler. As Oswald's reaction to this development was poor to say the least. Oswald while being dragged away screamed, "Fuck you Ed, is this really how the great Riddler goes out? A stupid bullet? Bullshit. I get to kill you, remember? Only me. I know you're still in there. Tell your body to keeping going."

"There's still a pulse!" One of the paramedics announced.

"See you soon, jackass." Oswald muttered as he watched Ed being transferred on to the ambulance.

[mistyyyy]

WC:707

CW: Drug use, Angst, Mention of sex addition, Cheating, manipulation, mention of blood (not domestic violence), happy ending, FxF, lowkey height kink. Very very lowkey. Age gap because I have a problem.

Pet names:Babe

Fem reader 25 X Historia Reiss 19

Rolling up the brown leaf came to you easy.

Spread the green.

Roll.

Lick.

Roll.

Lick.

Roll.

Lick.

Done.

Your hands worked fast and carefully, six years of experience and sneaky times of when you were a yungin.

You flicked the lighter, before spreading the blue to orange flame against the shaft of the wood, securing it,making sure it wouldn't unwrap. It never did, you made sure of that.

You let out a sniff before placing the spliff between your lips. Runny nose from all the crying.

You scoffed as you remembered a few minutes ago, you couldn't believe you cried over someone who you knew wasn't shit. It just hurts catching the person you love in the act.

Light.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

You sighed as you kicked off the brick wall.

It's time to go home, the fall air is kicking your ass. The wind is freezing your tear stained cheeks.

"Why the hell are you in front of me?" Your voice was monotoned as you look up at the one who hurt you once again.

Eren Yeager.

"Oh come on babe... hey, I'm sorry-" he reached for your arm, which you snatched back. "Dont!... don't touch me man." You didn't even have the energy to look at him, nonetheless the energy to keep your voice up.

Eren looked down at you with his amused glare. This was even worse than last time, you won't even let him come in.

"Babe...I'm sorry, okay? You know I have a problem... I love you-"

You couldn't take it anymore.

You slammed the door on him. And quickly locked it.

You couldn't even cry anymore, there was no tears left as you backed away from the door, ignoring the knocking and constant blabbering.

"I wish he’d shut the hell up..." you interrupted your own words as you yawned, laziness quickly filling your body as the small feeling of adrenaline fades. "I need to smoke."

And so you did.

Spread the green.

Roll.

Lick.

Roll.

Lick.

Roll.

Lick.

Done.

And that's how it went for a few weeks. Until... you found someone.

"Shit!- fuck-my bad."

"No- no it's fine!"

You were quick to bend down and pick up the blondes books. But she was faster, considering she was closer to the ground in height.

"Ah!"

"Shit!...lady"

"Sorry again!"

You cupped your nose, her hard head making it throb in pain. You looked up at your suspected , which made you look down immediately. Not because of the migraine that quickly made it's way to you, but because... she was so short.

"Your-you're bleeding!"

"Huh?"

Suddenly you felt something warm trickle down your wrist, to only absorb into your expensive blazer. "Dammit!" Your eyes widened as you caught a glimpse of the familiar red substance.

Whyyy must my life fall apart like this?

You winced as your braids were suddenly pulled back, forcing your head to lean back. "S-sorry! You're just so tall, here, sit. Keep your head like this please." The hand that held your bag was suddenly empty, but hastily being replaced by a clammy hand.

Why is she the nervous one? I'm gonna bleed to death.

She leads you to a bench, which was pretty difficult for a number of reasons.

And, well.

That's how it happened.

"Watch me carefully. I'm only gonna do this once. Got it?" Historia nods, her big blueish green eyes watching your skilled hands.

"It's simply really. But that doesn't mean it doesn't take practice." You talked to the nurse student as you opened up the black grinder, showing the familiar plant that got you through a month of pain.

You ripped open the purple pack and got started

Spread the green.

Roll.

Lick.

Well, you get it.

Done.

You leaned in close to the younger girl, and pulled her lips apart. She let you, trusting you of course. "When I light it, you slowly inhale, okay?"

Of course she nodded.

Backwoods.

[thewritingstar]

The Sun Sets With You

Pairing: Blossutch 

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls 

Rating: T

Word count: 6k 

Warnings: Major Character Death. 

Note: I am so excited to finish this fic! Thank you so much to @creativecilla for commissioning time and time again. She asked for a sad and angsty fic so I hope I delivered! (She also asked for a happy fic so dont worry that's coming soon)

Don't worry there will be a little bonus after this so don't come for my throat too hard.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoy this because I had the time of my life writing it while crying.

Thanks for reading <3

(the italicized is flashbacks just in case ya confused :) 

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“Your love is like a sunset, the longer I wait, it slowly fades into the sea, making a beautiful distraction, As loneliness and despair creep from behind like the shadow of the night.” -Albion Gremory

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

The gate waits patiently for her to cross. It's black and shiny as if it were polished just for her. She has been here for almost an hour and yet she hasn't moved an inch. The bouquet of flowers she spent just as long picking out are starting to get annoyed by her lack of movement and although they don’t have a voice or emotions, she can tell they are growing weary too.

She doesn’t understand. Why couldn’t she simply walk forward and make this easy? She was a trained assassin, a spy at the very core where nothing could challenge her except for this field of grass. Grass that is bright green and thriving yet underneath its healthy roots, is a minefield of bodies. It's odd to think about. The care and water used to make sure that the green is at its brightest and the stone looks nice but in reality, it won’t matter.

Nothing matters anymore.

Her grip tightens on the poor flowers. A frail red ribbon holds them together instead of being wrapped in her ginger hair where it belongs. The last time she wore it was the day...it's been a while.

The cemetery has a familiar feel to it. She’s been here before. She has been here many times and has even memorized the grounds. However, this time is much more...intimate. A much more personal experience.

It was never personal because in her line of work, this was normal and happened often. You would come into the office and hear about the poor sucker that got shot, stabbed or blown to bits, grab a hopefully fresh cup of coffee and make sure that you don’t end up the same as them. It was all a part of the job to join the unavoidable circle of life.

Before it was just people whose identities changed day in and day out to avoid this particular outcome. To avoid becoming worm food and having fresh flowers at the bottom of your name. Death never meant anything to her but an end we all have to face. It never meant to stop and think about your life because she didn’t have one to live.

There was no glory waiting for her back home as she finished another mission. There was no dream to achieve because she plagued those of her mind years ago. Warmth and desire from others could not be tolerated. It was dangerous to have anyone close to you but hurt even more when they were gone.

Her dreams had been swept into the night and burned like a fallen star. They were meant for rare quiet days where she could close her eyes and have a glimpse of another chance at life and then it would be over and she couldn’t allow anyone to hold her back. But just as there are dreams, nightmares will surface too.

This was a nightmare only for her eyes. It was common for members of their work to come and pay respects if they got time but for this, she asked that she would be the first. And only then was anyone else allowed.

The months that ate away at her aching heart caused her to be the opposite. She said she had gone, said her dues and the rest followed. Her lies now corrupted her normal life, if you could even call it normal.

So she became the last person and perhaps that's for the best. Even in death, she keeps him waiting. But unlike the other times, he couldn’t leave or say anything about it. The silence of the coffin was enough for her to know that she might get the last words like always but she doesn’t want them.

She would rather keep her words to herself, her mouth stapled shut than utter the last words. She also knew that he would rather listen to her all day than have a moment of silence.

So here she is. A little black dress that poofs out gently at the bottom just above her knees. It was the same dress she had worn on their mission in Italy years ago. It had ended up on the hotel bathroom floor much sooner than expected, however this time the smell of sandalwood and pine had been washed out.

She feels like a housewife ready to see her lost husband coming back from the war in the form of a corpse. The only difference is her vision won’t include the golden bands. Her thumb grazes her ring finger feeling nothing but bare skin and it pains her to think that she was so close. So close to a dream.

She inhales and exhales. Her ability to control her emotions is unlike anyone else. If she chooses to be a stone wall, then nothing will make her crumble. For years she had seen bloodshed and violence. Encountered dangerous people and never once had a hard time sleeping.

Steps take her closer and she feels herself start to decay brick by brick.

Every breath comes out colder and slower and she doesn’t have to look to know she's right in front of it because all the oxygen surrounding her has left and replaced with a frosted void she's grown used to over these past few months.

“Hello.” Her voice is firm and polite.

Formal. She’s too formal and she can practically feel him rolling in his grave to tell her to die it down. Die it down. She hums at that thought and complies with the request that wasn’t even asked but she knows him.

Her feet slip out of her heels, the ones he had bought randomly. The ones she had danced in as he spun her slowly. Her toes feel the dew on the grass. She hates the feeling, her exposed skin starts to itch and irritate her but that just reminds her of her beating heart. So she forces herself to rest on her knees but keeps her eyes shut. Bravery was never something she lacked.

But being brave with her vulnerable emotions had never come easy.

“Just open them.” She scolds herself. No one is around but she feels like the entire world is staring at her.

This isn't work.

This isn’t a mission.

This is him.

Slowly her eyes flutter open to reveal the truth she tried to conceal. The wall inside of her has fallen. There's a suffocating way about this all. She's a woman of logic, a see it before believe it kind-of-person. It's a crumbling mess that turns her into ruins.

And that's when it hits her.

Like the fall of Rome, there are no survivors. There is no happy ending here. Everything leads to Rome...everything leads to heartbreak eventually.

Tears overwhelm everything else. Blossom Utonium has cried for a fallen coworker but never once had she had to grieve and take in the burden of her heart growing dark and heavy.

Her fingers clench the soil. She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to sob, not at the risk of seeming weak, but to actually force herself to come to terms with it. To see it written in stone as literal as it comes.

Butch Jojo is dead.

There’s no other way to put it. No soft angle to come at. No lessening the blow because she was there and saw it with her own eyes. No one had to tell her because she relieved it every time her eyes closed.

How was she supposed to go on? He was the piece of her puzzle that fit so neatly and perfectly. She didn’t realize that the picture became indecipherable the moment he was removed. She clawed at that table trying to put back all the pieces. Trying to figure out where they all go but she's left with segments that don’t seem to fit any longer.

He was her sun and moon, the day and night and every other cliche slapped onto an overpriced Hallmark card. He was it all, and now he is gone. Gone too soon and she barely had him in the first place.

The gravestone itself is simple. It's the only one on the lot that isn't decorated by a three foot high statue or a giant cross. It's as basic as they come yet the man it was for was far from it. There was no luxury of filling the coffin with a body. So every bit of him was taken physically and metaphorically from her.

His name is in an elegant cursive and his birth name. Something most people didn’t know. Usually spies and assassins change up their name to make their identity untraceable. She had known him as many different names, but Butch was the only one who she cared about. The only one to ever make her feel like herself.

Her fingers hover above the engraving before setting on the coldness and tracing it with the tip of her index finger. It takes her breath away like an old candle finally burning out.

She wonders if a cruel joke is being played on her as she stares at the curls of the cursive. It was the same font she had chosen for their makeshift wedding invitations the moment she realized that he was the one. Of course he would have had comic sans or some heavy metal font on his tombstone if he was given the chance just to spite everything and everyone.

She's sure that this was already made far before his death. In fact, she's convinced that everyone already has a grave with their name stored somewhere in the back for fast and easy access. Hers is probably waiting and collecting dust.

“Hi.” She utters, less formal than the first time and that felt like ages ago. “For the first time, I’m speechless.” She confesses. “I’m not quite sure what to say.”

For days she sat underneath her flickering desk light writing a speech for a funeral that no one would attend.

The words never came into place even though she deemed herself a thoughtful writer. But what do you say when the person who gave you a reason to speak is gone? Was there anything worth uttering when she couldn’t bring herself to do it?

But she wrote. She wrote everything she had felt and ended with a flood of pages on her desk. Pens with tired ink cartridges littered her desk and endless chicken scratched papers were tossed away. It needed to be thoughtful and inviting but in reality, it just needed to be the words she never said.

The moment she finished writing them, she threw them into a box to never see the light of day. But when she finally had the courage to come and pay her respects, she became drawn to them. Her mind fought with her hands to take them even if she decided to keep them in her purse.

Her purse opens and she takes out a few pages. The ones that made her heart ache the most and that are decorated with stains of dried tears. She clears her throat. “The first time I met you, I thought nothing of it. It was in front of the coffee maker at work, you had just joined our firm and you walked by, glanced at me and then you were gone into the other room. That was it. That's what we were meant to be. A simple meeting of the eyes and then we don’t interact again.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

The coffee drips way too slow, she thinks. A state of the art facility full of lasers, guns and cars and they couldn’t be bothered to get something just slightly better. The mug finishes filling just in time for her patience to run out. She grabs it and turns to look out towards the rows of cubicles that make it seem like a simple office.

Instead of a bored coworker looking tired at a computer, she's met with green eyes and an emotionless face. For a second she saw his lips turn into a smirk. It's quick. A match striking the box with a flame igniting on impact. And then it’s dropped in water and out just as fast. He's gone by the time she blinks next and even though it was nothing, those eyes fueled a fire she wasn’t sure she had.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“But then I kept seeing more and more of you.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“You clean up nice.” Blossom turned to see a guy. She recognized him from last week, a new transfer who she only caught a glance at. He was in a highly expensive tux and was adjusting the equally priced watch on his wrist.

“I assume you must be my new partner.” She said as she mentally analyzed him slowly. Slicked black hair, looks as if he goes to the gym quite often, hands looks steady for a firearm. Green. Forest green eyes.

He smiled. “Must be.”

“You can call me Amanda.” Her fake name suited her fine as she checked the time. “I hope that you read over the files of our mission.”

“I tend to skim and wing it.” He winked and that irked her. “Matts fine for the evening.”

Blossom, or Amanda for now, kept her eyes from rolling and walked to him and wrapped her arm around his. “You might be my husband for this mission but if you fuck up, you better be thankful this isn’t legally bounded.” She finished with a flutter of her eyelashes and a smile before pulling him along.

She didn’t get too far before he pulled her back and her bright pink eyes met deep green ones closely. “I take my job very seriously. But I wouldn’t dream of making you mad at me. But on the other hand, I admire strong women.”

She didn’t know why she didn’t smack him in the face. Usually every partner who has tried to flirt or mess with her learned the hard way that is a no no. Yet, even after moments of knowing him, there was something genuine about him that she couldn’t quite understand but became interested in.

“Glad to see we are on the same page Matt.”

“Of course Amanda.” Butch replied and held out his hand. “After you.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

The trees nearby moved in the breeze without a care in the world. They had nothing to care for except for their leaves changing in the fall and losing them in the winter. But leaves always came back, they always blossomed and started a new life and were the same tree no matter how many times the seasons passed.

She wondered if those trees ever felt heartbreak or if it was easier to lose something when you know it will come back to you with time. She envied those trees. Envied the way that they can continue their lives just growing and flourishing and it felt like her leaves were turning to dust as she was being cut down.

From her purse she pulled out a thermos and two plastic cups. She nestled one into the ground as she poured the wine into the cup and then one into hers.

“I never cared for this brand of wine before I met you.” She smiled softly and took a sip. “Never cared for a lot of things. Yet this was your favorite and everytime we had a mission, I could always find you relaxing with a glass. I guess it became an acquired taste over time. You became my taste.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“Care for a glass?” He asked her as she sat in front of the fireplace.

Due to them working together for more than a year, the agency decided that personal rooms weren’t necessary and if anyone were to see them leave together and follow, it would fit with their stories.

Blossom looked up from the book she just pulled out. A dissatisfying glare focused on the bottle in his hand. “No thanks, that stuff is garbage.”

Butch, or well, Sebastian for the evening, scoffed. “Garbage?” He exclaimed dramatically. “This is some of the finest wine in the world.”

“I’ve had better.”

“It's from Italy!”

“I prefer local or even cheap box wine to that.” Blossom scanned her book.

Butch only huffed again but still proceeded to pour two glasses and joined her on the floor.

“I said I didn’t want any.”

“I think you just haven’t had it with the right company.” He smirked and offered her the glass.

She rolled her eyes and took the glass, her book forgotten now. Blossom brought the glass to her lips, took a sip and tried her best to hold back a grimace. “It's fine.”

He only shook his head and drank his own glass, the small smile on his lips never leaving. “Butch.”

She turned the glass in her hand then glanced at him. “What?”

“Butch. That's my name, my real name.”

Her heart started beating quicker. “Why are you telling me this? You shouldn’t be.”

It was a common understanding. You might know the face of your partner or colleagues but a name and identity was off the table. The only thing anyone needed to track down someone was a name. And the moment it's out there, you can start counting your days.

Butch shurgged and downed the rest of his wine. “Not sure. Never told anyone before. Well anyone who I didn't know beforehand. But there's something about you. I don’t think you fully trust me. I get it of course. I don’t trust people at all.”

“So why tell me?” She questioned.

His eyes met hers. Seriousness washed across his face and any hint of amusement was gone. “I have no one in my life who knows me as Butch anymore. Only myself and my thoughts. And after years in this shit business-you’re the only partner I’ve had that I trust with my life.”

Her fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. Her poor heart is beating much faster; she's sure he can hear it. She’s never had a partner like him. Never met a person who she blindly trusted like this.

“Blossom.” She blurts out. “My name is Blossom.”

And that smirk returns and his eyes soften. She's seen him kill a man before and yet he looks so incredibly soft and honest.

“That's a pretty unique name.”

“My father told me it was because of cherry blossom trees.” She smiles at the memory. She reaches and takes the brown contact from her eyes. Her main defying feature that no one but the higher ups knew about.

Her eyelashes flutter as she places them in the contacts case. She looks back at Butch and prepares for the intergation look.

It never comes.

Instead he's looking at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the world. Pastel pink eyes greet his own and he's taken back and tries to keep these emotions down.

“Its weird I know-

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.” He interrupts. “And I swear I’m not drunk.

That flicker resurfaced. The match struck the box but the flame was held much longer this time. Her reaction surprised the both of them as she laughed and her smile reached her eyes, something they haven’t done naturally in years.

She controlled her laugh and hummed bringing the glass to her lips and taking another sip. It wasn’t as bad as the first. “And you are very-”

“Charming? Irresistible?”

“Interesting.” She finished.

The bottle poured more wine into his glass and he tapped it to hers. “I’ll take it for now.” He winked.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Her glass is empty now. She pours the glass for him into the soil, hoping to give him one last taste of what he loved.

“Over the years I forgot myself, you have to.” Blossom tells him. “I forgot my passions and hobbies. The simple pleasures of life were taken from me when I joined this path.”

The books on her shelf at home had collected dust over the years. The pages stuck as the days passed but only recently did she find herself opening them, even to just a random page and basking in the tiny shred of warmth it gave her.

“I felt those pleasures rise with you. Even buying a simple candle because you said you liked the scent brought me a joy I hadn’t noticed was missing. I was missing everything in life because I didn’t have a light to guide me.”

She bites her lips hoping to stop another sob. How many tears can a person shed in a short amount of time? When do they stop and allow the body to rest?

“That first time you kissed me.” Her voice cracks. “That's when I started believing that life could be more than what we were conditioned to do.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Her feet ached. Her heels were in her hands and she was tired from another successful work day. After six months of locating and sniffing out an underground drug market, they finally caught the group of men.

She glanced at her shoes and dress, irritated that the blood ruined another perfectly good outfit. She wanted to just get into her room, take a bath and pass out on her bed and to not be distrubed for at least seventy two hours.

She got to her hotel door and started to search for her key.

“Oh shit.” She grumbled. Her purse was nowhere in sight.

“Here.”

Blossom turned to see Butch holding the desginer bag.

A sigh of relief left her lips as she took it and fished out the key card. He leaned against the wall, clearly tired and wanting to rest like her. Two years they had been partners. The longest partnership she’s had and she wasn’t complaining. Usually they shared a room on missions but they had separate rooms this time.

“Tired?” She glanced at him.

“No, I'm fully awake.” He said sarcastically. “I feel like I got hit by a freight train.”

“I’m sure those guys thought they did too when you punched them.” Her door clicked open but she didn’t move.

“Oh please, you did most of the heavy lifting. I mean who takes down a giant dude with a high kick in heels.” He was practically beaming with pride from the memory. “Badass stuff Bloss.”

She was sure there was a blush on her cheeks. Shaking those thoughts from her head she smiled and opened the door. “Goodnight Butch.”

“Night.”

…

..

.

“Isn’t this the part where you walk into your room?” He raises a bow that is answering the silent question she asked.

She straightens her back. “Shouldn’t you be walking to yours?”

He moves closer to her. Brushing the hair on her shoulders off and there's a buzz throughout her as his fingers graze her shoulders.

He's closer now. Their lips only inches apart and although her body is killing her and aching, she can’t help but let her mind wander.

“I prefer the view right here.” He says in almost a whisper that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “And possibly even the taste.”

His lips press against hers. They have kissed many times in front of people on missions but it's never been like this. Never a sign that everything she had been feeling, wanting could be hers for the taking.

It's not fast and heated. It's slow as if he's testing out the waters that he can glady swim in. It's a sign that they know they shouldn’t be doing this but for once, she's playing by a different set of rules.

They break apart. The kiss wasn’t very long but the sparks linger and scorch through her body. She's afraid to look at him now. Afraid that rejection and everything she had told herself not to want, can’t be hers. The ground should just swallow her whole now.

She feels a hand softly touch her cheek and she looks up at him. This look on his face, she can't describe it. She can see the gears turning in his head, wondering if this was a mistake just as she thought.

But rejection never comes. He doesn’t pull or push away.

Instead his lips turn slightly up. “I know we fight for the greater good, but I’m starting to think I have a different purpose.”

“What?” She questions.

“You.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

She could have sworn it's only been a few minutes but the sky’s blue had morphed into a dusty pink. A wonderful sunset that she is surprised she can still find beauty in. She knows she’ll have to leave soon. She is afraid that when she does, she might not come back.

One of the final happy moments with him was weeks before his death. Five years they had known each other and it was all washed down the drain.

Her head turns towards the sky as she basks in the sunset. “I hope that wherever you are there are still skies like these.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Sunsets in Hawaii were much better in person than any photo could capture.

“Another successful mission.” Blossom giggles as she takes a sip of her mai tai. Her feet are swaying above the water and the breeze flows through her hair. She hasn’t remembered being this peaceful but she could get used to it.

“Yeah.” Butch says as he downs his drink.

Five years she's known him. Every action and mannerism he's done is burned in her memory. It's the most priceless information she has, the most important because it's all hers.

He seems calm, she admits. But something is on his mind. He's not thriving in the glory of another mission or running around crazy and jumping into the ocean like the days before. He seems to be in deep thought. Something she's not quite sure she likes.

The horizon catches her eyes. “The sky is pretty.” She adds.

“Runaway with me.”

The movement of the waves stops. The breeze halts and her eyes widen.

“What?” She turns towards him. “Runaway?”

He nods. “Runaway from this place and all its madness. We could get married, travel the world, anything you want.” He took her hand. “I don’t care where we go. I just want to be with you.”

“With me?” She's practically speechless.

Butch cracks a smile. “Only you. Imagine this.” He scoots closer to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “A house on private property, hell maybe even a beachfront. You have your own little library and I’ll even get you a nice espresso machine. A garden with all the flowers you could imagine and even a baby grand piano since I know how much you love to play.”

The images flood her mind. “That sounds lovely.”

“And you wanna know the best part?” He asks.

She nods her head. “Tell me.”

“I would get to wake up each morning with you in my arms.” He smirks and kisses her softly.

“That would be the best part.” She hums against his lips. Her stomach then drops. “But we can’t.”

“Three good reasons.”

She tried to think. How could she leave the agency she's been in since she was a kid? How could she throw everything away? These feelings she had were all muddled into a mess that she didn’t know how to get out of. That vision he told her sounded like a dream.

That's what this was. A dream. Something she wasn’t allowed to have. But she wanted it.

Butch sighed. “I guess it's easier for me cause I’m selfish.” He smiled softly at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Whatever choice you make, as long as I can still be by your side, is fine by me.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Blossom looks at the notes in her hands then back to the stone.

“I’m sorry Butch.” She cries and crumples them. Tears overwhelm her once again but she doesn’t wipe them or try to stop it. She is a dam that's been holding it all for too long. Holding her emotions for years and she was tired.

“Everyone told me to come here to get closure, but I don't want that. I want to feel the emptiness and shallowness. I want to cry myself to sleep and wish I could hold you again. It's torturous and cruel to think like that but it means that it was real. And that it was mine. This-” She beats her fingers against her chest, against her heart. “This is yours.”

“I am sorry Butch. I vowed to never let my heart act over my head. And that is something I regret deeply. You were right. You always have been. You wanted me without hesitation and I’m sorry I was guarded. But I swear when I was with you I wasn’t.”

The laughter and joy he brought her. She felt like she was breathing for the first time around him and even in the most serious situations there was still an element of peace.

“I had hoped that I would never have to say this. Never had to face this reality because it's too painful. I tried to deny it all, even though I watched it happen. Maybe if I had never let myself be charmed by you, I could avoid all these feelings but we both know that you were just so-’ She bites a laugh. “Irresistible.”

Her voice got louder as her sobs grew. “Every single moment was worth it. Your eyes and your smile. The way you knew what I was thinking even though no one else could ever know. I treated it like our job but the truth is, I wanted you to figure me out so I could finally tell myself it's okay to be happy. That's what you were Butch. My happiness.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

This can’t be happening, she thought. Never in her entire career had she been kidnapped and captured. She was careful and guarded but they got the best of them this time.

The gag in her mouth was doing its job and her wrists were bound behind her back. The cold chill ran up her spine as she watched the men drag him in front of her. He was a few feet away and his face was covered in blood and bruises.

“Only one of you makes it out alive.” The man said.

She tried to pull against the restraints but felt the cool metal touch the back of her head.

“No moving sweetheart.” She heard behind her.

She watched as they removed Butch’s gag and he choked on the air before his hair was pulled and he was forced to look at her.

Those dark green eyes met with frightened brown but he knew that below the color was a brilliance of magenta that he adored.

He should be scared and terrified. And he was. But looking at her even in this state, he felt a sense of happiness wash over him. Everything he never thought he could have was right there in front of him.

Tears fell from her eyes as she watched the man stab him in the stomach. The knife plunged into his flesh and Butch let out a horrifc cry as she screamed into the gag.

“Dying words buddy?” The man laughed as he pulled out a gun and held it up to head.

Even through the pain shooting through his body, he looked at her with tears in his eyes.

His lips turned into a smile, even with blood coating his teeth. “Blossom-” He coughed.

No.

No.

Please No!

She wanted to scream and tell him that she takes it all back. She wanted her dress and the ring. She wanted their own house and a piano where she could play for him.

Everything. She wanted everything.

She wanted him.

“I love you.” He says. 

BAM!

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Her breath catches in her throat as she sees it. The blood and the life leaving his eyes. It replays and she tries to stop the memory.

“Could you ever forgive me?” She sobs. “Forgive me for not telling you?”

Her hand presses against the gravestone. She's not sure what she's hoping for but it's cold.

“You said it moments before your death and I couldn’t even let you die with that. Yet through that you smiled at me. You fucking smiled as death was taking you faster than I could realize because you knew. I couldn’t say it. No matter how much I wanted to tell you, I was afraid that the moment I did, this would happen. I wasn’t prepared to lose you. I wasn’t ready to face a life where I would spend every waking moment wondering if waking up next to you was truly real or a dream.”

Anger rises in her. Anger at the world and the men who killed him. Angry at the agency who turned the other eye when he died. There was nothing for her there anymore. She realized it way too late that she was robbed of everything from this life. Robbed of having him because she was afraid.

“I don't get it. How did you make me want that so bad? How you took my heart and made it beat faster than ever before. You told me to be selfish so here it is. I want you. I want you back and alive so that I can go and buy that white dress. I want everything you said.”

The anger bubbling shifts. It lingers but she takes a deep breath. It won’t help her to be angry or to bring him back. That sorrow takes its hold over her again. It's sad but calming as she tries to reason with herself that he is gone. She knows closure won’t come but she's okay with that.

“But that's not the reality anymore. I can’t change the past but I won’t change the future either. I am deeply and madly in love with you Butch. You gave me a glimpse of what a normal and fulfilling life could be and I thank you for that. Thank you for giving me slices of happiness and making me feel like I was worth loving.”

She reaches into her purse one last time and pulls out a letter and a box. “I resigned and I bought myself a ring.” She opens it and slips on the silver band with a small opal. “It's silly I know, not even a wedding ring. I hope you don’t mind. I stole one of the gems from your watch to make it.” She cries.

“They took all your stuff you know.” Her hands quiver as she stares at her ring. “They took every part of you like it was nothing, like you didn’t exist at all. The watch was all I could get.”

The sun is now setting and the breeze picks up. She's not cold anymore, and can't feel anything.

“They’ll kill me, I'm sure of it. That's what happens when you leave. And when they do, I better see you on the other side. A place where we can watch the sunset and have our little home. A place where this emptiness inside me can be whole again. I just want a place where I can love you.”

The glasses and letters go back into her purse. The flowers lay with her ribbon at the base as she stands and dusts off her dress.

She finally wipes her tears and forces a wonderful soft smile. “You were the most charming and wonderful man I have ever had the honor of working with. But most importantly, you were proof that dreams could come true.”

She touches the stone one last time. Feels the coolness but it's not as frightening. She's not afraid anymore. Blossom takes a step back and her eyes dance over his name one last time. She slips on her heels and grabs her purse.

“Goodbye my love.” She says and makes her way across the grass to the black gate.

​​✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

I hope you enjoyed! 

[hope-remnant]

The Practice Run Killing Game

Content Warnings: guns, violence, murder, manipulation, ableism, blood, weapons, bullying mention, and Dangan Ronpa, which is probably it’s own warning. This is literally 85% murder. 6.5K words.

My talentswap AU now has its own fanfic! for a full list of my talentswapped characters click [here]

Hifumi never thought school life could be so great. He grinned to himself in his dorm, pushing off the floor with socked feet to spin his desk chair back and forth. The pale blue light of his computer’s screen reflected on his glasses, which he pushed up with one finger and a smirk before typing out a last message to his friend’s stream chat.

JusticeHammer: I’ll be back in a few hours!! Have fun Hina!! <3

In his headphones the stream audio played, ambient underwater sounds from the game itself and the excited voice of his friend, the Ultimate Gamer.

“Bye Justice! You other mods better be on your best behavior now that the boss man is gone, okay?” Hina grinned up at the webcam from her side of the screen, waving with one tanned hand before returning to her game, talking about the strange atmosphere of an alien world. 

The chat scrolled by as well, people from all over the world typing out goodbyes to him. Thousands of strangers, but dozens of friends as well, fellow moderators who helped wrangle the random people into order, who would play video games with Hifumi, who would message him and call him.

It was a far cry from where Hifumi had been in middle school, and he couldn’t help but grin again, shaking out his hands as if to shake out an excitement that clung to his bones, that stayed in his heart when he remembered he had friends. 

His phone dinged with a soft chime, and he couldn’t help the quiet huff of amusement as he flipped open his phone and typed quickly.

Sakura: Where are you going Hifumi? Do you need assistance? 

Hifumi: school council meeting! a weird late night one, no emergencies, dont worry sakura!

Hifumi: see you tomorrow, love you!!!!! :) 

Hifumi stashed the phone in the pocket of his blazer- he was unsure what to wear to this sudden late night meeting, when before they had all been just after classes let out. He decided to play it safe and wear his school uniform.

Standing up from his chair, he made sure to plug in his laptop, the stream still running on it, and turned to leave his room. He had seen the interior of the main course’s dorms, they were triple the size, with their own ensuite and everything. 

His own dorm was small, the wall space barely enough to fit his multitude of posters. There was a complimentary cork board as well, full of fanart people had made of his little sona, a kirby with a hammer and glasses, which he printed out and posted up on his wall as big as he could get them.

He pulled once on the lapels of his blazer, making the fabric settle properly on his shoulders and snatched his binder of notes he used in student council meetings. He made sure to lock his dorm on the way out, still smiling softly to himself. He toyed with the small ring of keys in his hand, dorm room key swinging as well as a number of soft cute keychains that Hina or Sakura sent him in their years as online friends.

He entered the cold night air, pocketing his keys and rubbing his hands together. Winter had clung harder than he had ever seen it, or Spring was simply apathetic even in April, biding its time. In the dusky light he could see the timid, barely blooming sakura trees that dotted the expansive main campus of Hope’s Peak Academy as he approached. There was no security on duty, the gates locked at the late hour.

Headmaster Kirigiri had given him a pass once he sent an anxious email talking about how the head of security, Sakakura, had been harassing him whenever he tried to go on campus. Even though reserve course students were barred from entering the main campus, Hifumi had privileges as the liaison between the reserve and main courses, and as a member of the student council.

Hina and Sakura had theorized it was because Sakakura was the Ex-Ultimate Student Council Leader, and was now one of the club’s supporting staff members, even if he had only worked at the school for a few years. The man was resentful of having a reserve course student on the council, a first in the school’s history, even though the reserve course was a relatively recent development.

Hifumi was used to people disliking him for seemingly no reason, it was only a problem that he took to the headmaster when it made him late to council meetings. 

He glanced at his phone as he passed through the side gate intended for just security. He would likely be a minute or two late, but it wouldn’t make him stand out any more than usual. In his black and white suit he was a dark stain in the middle of any crowd of bright ultimates, who were able to wear anything pertaining to their talent and flaunt the rules.

Sakura wearing scrubs some days, Hina wearing garish merchandise for a game and smirking as the Ultimate Hall Monitor from class 77B could do nothing about it. They had told Hifumi about some of their classmates testing the rules, Enoshima in a sporty tank top, the Ultimate Team Manager getting away with it even in December. Fukawa, who didn’t even notice the rules apparently, and wore oil stained jumpsuits to class, no one able to deter the Ultimate Engineer and Ultimate Mechanic.

Yet here he was, in an ill-tailored suit. When he had been accepted into the reserve program and sent a uniform, his older sister had insisted he try it on, and cooed over him looking all grown up, as if she weren’t just a year older than him. She utilized some of her cosplay skills to try and modify the suit to fit him- they seemed to be made for exclusively skinny kids, then just sized up without concerns for body shape. Unfortunately Fujiko typically worked with skirts and dresses, which were more forgiving of hands more used to drawing and the bad eyesight all Yamadas seemed to have. 

Hifumi had to stop for a moment, the breeze rustling past as he stared up at the few stars that began to twinkle in the night sky, faded and choked by light pollution, blurry even with his glasses. Some were simply blocked by the giant building before him, gleaming glass reflecting the lights of the city’s nightlife, aside from one classroom on the second floor, lit up bright white with silhouettes moving across the room.

He held the binder full of notes to his chest and walked into Hope’s Peak Academy, unaware that someone in the school’s entrance hall was hiding in the shadows, watching with eyes of deep scarlet that reflected light like a cat’s would in the low light. 

Hifumi hurried up the stairs and down the hallway to the classroom they held meetings in. He saw Kamii and Kurosaki, two ultimates on the council who were dating, walk into the meeting room, Kamii practically clinging to her boyfriend. It was unsettling to see as he approached, considering Kamii thought PDA was impolite during meetings, and usually sat with someone between her and Kurosaki to avoid it. Maybe she was upset by something, but Hifumi wasn’t about to ask her, considering he was acquaintances at best with the council.

He followed them into the room, the last to arrive. The fluorescent lights were glaring and bright as night settled fully outside of their meeting. Everyone was seated aside from their Ultimate Student Council President, Umesawa, who stood at the podium in front of the blackboard, knuckles white as her blunt nails dug into the wood, her white armband standing out against the bright yellow of her hoodie.

After Hifumi sat down, leaving his notes on the desk, he noticed just how unhappy everyone seemed. Some were fidgeting, others talking but not saying much at all, their tone hurried and frightened, and others sat there and stared at the polished wood of their desk as if the world was ending around them.

“Now that we’re all here- you have some explaining to do Umesawa.” Ikuta, a girl with a famously short temper among the upperclassmen ultimates, had her hands on her desk as she stood slightly, her red hair swaying and catching the eyes of anyone who hadn’t been startled by her shout. 

“Yeah, Aiko, your emails were really panicked.” Kashiki smiled softly at her friend, but she seemed to be trembling.

Umesawa tugged on one of the bright yellow ears sitting atop the hood of her sweatshirt, pulling down the hood and raising her head to look up at the council. Her eyes seemed to draw people in, one blue and one green, both full of an earnestness that made her a good Ultimate School Council President. Now, though, they were rimmed with red, and usually perfect wavy bob was a bird’s nest, brown strands out of place in any way they could be. 

“I called you all here because it was best to be as discreet as possible.” Umesawa said.

Ichino snorted, not even bothering to hide his disrespect, too busy carding his hand through his already messy red hair. “Discreet. Yeah.” 

Just when Hifumi was going to ask them all to explain, because these ultimates always acted as if everyone just knows what’s going on instead of learning things like normal people- the door creaked open and someone Hifumi had never seen before stepped inside. 

The first thing Hifumi noticed were the gloves. One a perfect, unstained white, carrying a large duffle bag. The other a black that blended into her sleeve. The rest of her outfit was just as puzzling, a bright red tie and a white button up, but with a black cropped leather jacket over it. A black miniskirt and red knee high boots as well completed the outfit. But even then, it was almost at odds with pale violet eyes and long lavender hair, only a small portion of that hair in a braid that she toyed with in her black gloved hand.

“Good evening class.” She said, her voice even and her eyes narrowed. 

Umesawa backed away from the podium, staring at the girl. “Who are y-?”

The girl waved off the question, her black gloved hand slashing through the air, making the council president back away further. “Goodness, and they say you’re one of the brightest in the school?” She takes a step closer, heeled boots heavy on the floor. “Pathetic.” She says, a light scolding, a chiming thing that seemed more like a schoolyard taunt than a threat.

But Hifumi could tell this girl was a threat. Maybe she had a dangerous ultimate talent- he knew for a fact that even if an ultimate skill was illegal they could be admitted and given essentially some form of diplomatic immunity while they attended the school. 

“Why the hell are you here lady?!” Ikuta snapped, standing fully with her hands on her hips. 

The girl put both her hands in the air, as if surrendering, but she was smiling, amusement sparkling in those eyes that seemed to dig into anything she laid them on, ferreting out as much information as she could. “I just want to play a game with my fellow ultimates.” She said, placating and condescending. 

Hifumi, who was tired, confused, and could be watching his friend play video games right now, finally spoke up. “Can any of you ultimates ever explain anything, or is being cryptic part of the main course syllabus?” 

The girl turned to him and glared, and Hifumi couldn’t help the small squeak of fear that slipped from his mouth when her face twisted into a sneer. It was a dramatic expression, he had seen it in games and shows, but no one had ever looked at him like that, no matter how many bullies he had faced. Like he was less than nothing, his very existence something to be loathed.

“A. Game. That shouldn’t be so hard for a simple reserve course student to understand, right? After all, you don’t spend your time doing anything worthwhile, if you can’t even manage to get into the main course.” The girl’s voice dripped with malice, and she quickly took over at the podium.

Umesawa backed up even more, now close to the window opposite of the door to the classroom, hands tugging her hood back up so she could pull at the fake rabbit ears in nervousness.

“I will keep it simple.” The girl shot Hifumi another look. “Last man standing wins. Go.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Ikuta stepped out into the aisle between desks, pointing a finger at the girl as she demanded answers. “Just who the fuck do you think you are, demanding shit from us? Are you some reserve course kid? We’ve had enough from Yamada-”

Everyone’s eyes had been on Kotomi Ikuta, they hadn’t noticed the threatening girl at the front moving at all, assuming she had been just as stunned by the rant, until Ikuta was cut off by a gunshot.

Hifumi had heard guns before, in games, in animes, in movies. There were different patterns to them depending on the type, and when he and Hina became really invested in a game he would bother to tell them apart, the distinct rapid pulses, the blasts and thunderous booms from all different kinds of weaponry. He had never heard one in real life, had never been in the same room as a real gun, even though he knew there was a shooting range up on the fifth floor for those whose talents needed such things.

It was louder than he expected, and the noise was what made him freeze. In the middle of the classroom, Ikuta fell to her knees, then slumped forward. Shrill screams and rumbling expletives filled the room.

It took a moment, to properly process all of the information and connect the dots. When he did Hifumi couldn’t stop the sharp gasp, even though all it did was make him notice the sharp sulfuric stench of gunpowder, as well as the metallic tang of fresh blood. Things he had never experienced before.

An ultimate had died right before his eyes, by something as simple as the handgun that rested like it was molded to be in the strange threatening girl’s black gloved hand. The girl’s eyes were alight with something Hifumi couldn’t understand as she huffed through her nose in what might have been amusement.

She dropped the duffle bag in her other hand, the thing spilling open to reveal an assortment of weapons from knives to swords, hammers and screwdrivers, guns of all shapes and sizes. They were real, the flash of silvery metal, the dull gleam of tools with a new use branded onto them right before their eyes. 

“If that’s not enough for you, I’ve got more.” The girl smirked, and waved to the still open door. A cart came rolling in, it’s top shelf littered with larger weapons. A chainsaw, a mace, a sledgehammer, all on top of it, all perfectly clean as if even they didn’t know what a dark omen they were, as if they didn’t know their capacity to do harm in the right hands. 

At the bottom of the cart there was a large case which the girl pulled onto the floor with ease after sliding her handgun into a previously unseen holster high up on her thigh. She kicked the case with her boot, walking around it and towards the door. “That holds all the motivation you’ll need.” 

“Everyone stay calm!” Umesawa ordered, straightening up from where she had been cowering. “No one touch those weapons- someone could get hurt!” Her voice was as sweet as ever, even with the urgency, she took out her phone and flipped it open, only for her face to fall. 

Yokō stood up from his place at the back of the room, turning his flip phone around as if to show it off. “No connection.”

Kubo stood up, gesturing broadly to the class. “She can’t stop all of us, just listen to Umesawa!” 

But everyone seemed to be getting up, fourteen students all in one room, some paralyzed by fear, others covering their fear with anger. Hifumi stayed seated, staring, unable to process it all at once, afraid. 

A student who had been at Ikuta’s side the instant she fell, trying to help her even after a gunshot wound to the forehead, lunged forward and grabbed one of the spilled weapons at random. He ran towards the terrifying girl who had orchestrated Ikuta’s death. The boy, Someya, was holding a shotgun that was almost too big for him to handle. The little plushies on keychains at his belt jingled slightly, at odds with the cold metal in his hands. Before he could aim, someone grabbed at him. 

Ichino tried to grapple the weapon away from Someya, but the small boy clung to the instrument of death with a desperation no one in the room had seen before now in a human being. Someya was frantic, eyes glassy with tears, his distinctive blue bowlcut in disarray as he shook his head, saying how she needed to pay for killing Ikuta. 

In the chaos Hifumi finally stood, moving to the wall the door was on, his back hitting the wall quickly as he tried to look around. Umesawa still was at the podium, pleading for order. Gōryoku was shielding some of the others who had broken down into tears with his large muscular body, and some other students had approached the front of the classroom.

Someya was facing the door, facing the girl who had her gun in one hand but was toying with her braid as well, as if bored. She hummed an uneven tune, as if bored, as if waiting for a show to start. 

“Please!” Someya cried, tears falling as the shotgun was wrenched out of his hands, the gun making a sharp cracking sound as it hit the floor.

Then the katana entered his chest from behind, skewering him. As the weapon was pulled out with a wet sucking sound Hifumi wished he could never have heard, the girl holding the weapon sobbed. “My mother- they have my mother- I’m so s-sorry, I can’t-!”

With a sob that devolved into a scream, Kisaragi kicked away the file of photographs she had taken from the case, the motive set out for them. It showed a middle aged woman bound to a chair, screaming into a gag. 

“Karen! Please, listen-!” Umesawa implored, a hand outstretched. “Put down the-!” She let out a small scream when Kirasagi lurched forward, slashing the katana.

The sword embedded itself into the podium. Most of the class either hung back or scattered to grab the motives, and then the weapons. 

Hifumi could only focus on one thing at a time, the sounds. The wet thunk of metal sinking into flesh, into the soft organs of the human body, so fragile even if the person had been deemed ultimate. Gunshots, sobbing, deranged laughter, screams and death rattles.

Hifumi staggered under the onslaught of sensory information overloading his mind with no way to filter it, no way to stop it. All he could do was try to get away.

Blood splattered onto his blazer, up his neck and onto his face as another student died. With a short, faltering yell, he pushed someone out of the way of the door and began to run. 

The moonlight streaming into the hallways washed them in a pale ghostly glow, as if illuminating perfection, as if a spotlight was needed. Hifumi didn’t know it, but he looked similar to when he spoke to his friends in late night chats, his lights off in his room and illuminated only by the pale glow of a computer screen, tired and giggling. 

Pink marred the walls and floors. In the classroom Hifumi abandoned, a boy he had spoken to, someone in a committee with him, was brutally beaten to death with a chair. A girl he knew was stabbed. Another was strangled. The events tumbled together into one big massacre, one big game, one big show, and the girl who pulled the strings to watch this all happen couldn’t help the grin on her usually passive face as she left the scene into her own lair.

Someone stood at her side now, shorter than her, but even more intimidating. A person in a pristine suit and long black hair, almost ridiculous in its length. Their red eyes seemed to gleam as they watched, but their pointed features never twitched from an expressionless mask of disinterest.

“Satisfied, Izuru?” Kirigiri asked once she reached her control room, one of her lackeys nodding to her reverentially and giving her the seat. Another approached her other side, giggling.

“...” Izuru’s eyes slid to the side, towards where the lackey who had been in the chair now cowered, too horrified to watch what he assisted in causing, pathetic. The girl laughing into her hand was small, and with Izuru’s keen sight and ultimate knowledge, Izuru knew that the girl was thirteen at best, too young, yet still an ultimate. She was enthralled by the gore on screen, delighted by it, just as much as she was enthralled by Kirigiri, who put a hand on the young girl’s shoulder, speaking words but never telling her anything.

With a small huff through their nose, Izuru turned and left to see the scene for himself. 

Hifumi didn’t know when someone had got him with a blade. They evidently had, from the wound on his arm pouring blood, pink staining his nice uniform, running through his fingers even when he tried his best to stop the bleeding.

He continued to stumble on, mind overloaded with information, with fear, and he couldn’t help but just blank out on all of it. There was too much to process, too much to bear acknowledging. With a ragged huff, he leaned against a wall of lockers, the cool metal a relief from everything, another nothingness to sink into. 

The wall of windows allowed in so much moonlight, for a moment Hifumi thought it was day, that any moment so many of the best students in the country would come pouring out of their classrooms. Maybe his friends would be among them, Hina tapping on her phone or the newest handheld console, Sakura making sure they didn’t bump into anyone. 

They would see him, and Sakura would hold him. She was so strong, so steady. She could carry Hifumi to the infirmary, could bandage him up and offer him a lollipop with that slight smile she got when she talked to him or Hina. She would fret over him any time she saw him until the bandage was finally gone, she would insist on carrying his bag or his notes for student council-

Hifumi swallowed down a sob, pushing himself onward. Screams echoed down hallways made to carry the voices of the best, the last cries of those who were dead the moment that girl walked into their meeting. It hurt, to keep moving, to keep acting as if just running away would save him, but everything would hurt no matter what choice he made. 

All he wanted was to hang out in Hina’s dorm, his best friends at his side as they all rested on Hina’s bright pink bed, Sakura studying late into the night as he and Hina fell asleep against her.

He wanted so much, and he was never going to get it, not now. Hifumi knew he was going to die here, he just knew it. Was this something other people felt, like a blanket of fresh snow, cold and melting deep into his bones as he realized death was coming for him, an unstoppable force? Was this something that had always been there waiting for him, and he only noticed it now when his head swam and pink dripped from his fingers?

In every game, every anime, every manga, the hero managed to get up and keep going. Whether to escape only to save the day later, or to defeat whatever stood in their way. No one expected that of Hifumi. Maybe they would think an ultimate was capable of it, and there were thirteen ultimates he had left behind to tear each other apart. 

He heard a high pitched, screaming cackle and the revving of a chainsaw, the cut off screams of a victim, far enough away that he wasn’t in danger. 

Hifumi wouldn’t find any heroes here. All he could do was try his best.

The ones who cared for him, his friends, that’s all they had ever asked of him. To try his best, to keep going, to rely on them if he needed to. Hifumi needed them more than ever, Hina’s endless energy and excitement, Sakura’s quiet strength and support. Hina would be in her dorm, headphones on as she kept talking and talking, playing video games for thousands to see. Sakura was studying a new medical journal, sitting on Hina’s bed, out of view of the webcam. 

They were so close but so far, and they were all he could think of. Would they send worried texts when he never messaged them goodnight? Would they wait until tomorrow morning, thinking he had been tired from the meeting? Would they use the extra key to his dorm he gave them, and find his room as he left it, as if nothing was amiss? Would he become another muttered rumor, like the supposed death of a girl in the computer lab of the reserve course?

Would anyone aside from Hina and Sakura notice him gone from campus? He was invisible to the other reserve course students. Maybe they would wonder why there was an extra desk in their classroom, and dismiss it just as quickly as a mistake, never remembering him. 

Tears welled up in his eyes. It was all too much, the noises, the things he had seen. Hifumi had never seen someone die before. He had never seen someone kill before. He had never seen carnage, or gore, or death. He wanted nothing more than to calm his racing thoughts, but they all piled up and screamed until he reached nothing, slumped against some lockers. His left hand was in his mouth, and he bit down harshly on the joint of his thumb, his right hand clutching where he had been injured. 

He screamed silently, throat hurting, tears finally spilling. He was so tired and scared and lost and he just wanted- he didn’t know what he wanted, he didn’t know what to do, it all was piling up, it was washing over him, a tsunami of panic and blood, bright pink and towering over him, until it finally fell and consumed him without even noticing. 

Hifumi continued to dig his teeth into his hand, it was something solid, letting him know that he was here. He brought his knees up to his chest, his legs squishing into his stomach. He let go of his wound, his right hand coming up to pull at his short curly hair as he keened. The wet sticky feeling of blood on his hand, in his hair, was so bad but the grounding pull of pain in his scalp was something that kept him from trying to slam his head into the wall or something equally damaging, because he needed anything to stop his mind from screaming, to stop himself from screaming. He began to rock back and forth, crying. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed. The moon watched on, impassive in its pale glow. Was time really passing, or had the world ended the moment that girl shot Ikuta? Was the planet still spinning? Would the moon ever set?

“Get up Yamada.” 

Chills swept down Hifumi’s spine, he swore someone was talking, but all he could hear were distant gunshots and screams.

“Yamada! Get up!” A polished shoe kicked him in the shin, and Hifumi finally looked up.

Murasame stood before him, leaning on a pitchfork. The dark grey tines were splattered with blood already, dripping down onto the floor. Hifumi stared at the blood, mind numb, lungs and throat pained by the sobs that had wracked his body. 

“I can’t kill a guy who’s crying like a baby. Are you a man or not, Yamada? I know you’re just a stupid reserve course, but c’mon. Get up, die with a little bit of dignity.” Murasame rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. He bent down to look at Hifumi like he was nothing more than a bug on the ground, disgusting. His brown hair shifted to cover his face as he leaned, before snorting wryly and standing up straight again, rolling his eyes.

Hifumi choked on another sob, trying to just breathe. He used both of his hands to brace against the lockers behind him, trying to stand. He didn’t know why he bothered, but it was something to do. Maybe Murasame was joking? Maybe he would help Hifumi?

The moment Hifumi was steady on his feet Murasame backed up, swinging his pitchfork up, an arc of pink that glowed in the moonlight following it.

Hifumi ran again. He turned a corner down the hall, still between a wall of lockers and windows, still in a cold empty husk of a school, and he didn’t stop. 

He bumped into something- someone, and stumbled back, looking at them. A short person with long black hair and pointed features, deep red eyes that stared at him with nothing behind them. “Sorry!” He shrieked, the habit converging against his fear as he quickly stepped around the person and kept running. 

Izuru raised an eyebrow and deftly hid between the lockers as another ultimate passed, this one full of bloodlust, hunting the boy who ran into them. It was different, interesting, but Izuru kept moving. They had more to see than this.

Every breath seared from Hifumi’s lungs, his body ached as he did his best to keep moving. But he didn’t even make it all the way down the hallway. Hacking into his bloodied hands, he ended up falling against one of the massive windows that made up the outside wall of the school. His injured arm burned with pain against the cold glass.

Hifumi whimpered, turning to keep his back to the glass as he heard sprinting footsteps slow and reach him.

“Everyone hated you, Yamada.” Murasame huffed, both hands holding the pitchfork as if it was a staff.

“What?” Hifumi wheezed out, more confused than frightened.

“You waltz in, a useless reserve course, and start telling us what to do. We had a betting pool going on whether you were just that oblivious that you didn’t notice how annoying you were, or if you really were just that annoying.” Murasame sneered.

“Wh-What?!” 

Murasame let go of his pitchfork with one of his hands to point at Hifumi accusingly, the tines of the weapon scraping against the floor loudly, making Hifumi flinch away. 

“That. Is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re so annoying and don’t even fucking know, do you? Handing out orders, trying to get us to help a bunch of teenagers who convinced their parents to blow their money just to attend Hope’s Peak- it’s a wonder no one offed you before now.” Murasame swung the pitchfork back up, both hands on the weapon as he pointed it at Hifumi.

“No- please-!” Hifumi begged, trying to dive out of the way. 

The sound of cracking glass echoed around the hall as Murasame chuckled. “Really?” 

Hifumi wanted to back away, wanted to run again, but fear paralyzed him.

Murasame just shook his head, pulling back his pitchfork and causing the window to fully shatter. “Get up Yamada. I’m not killing you while you cower. Unlike you, I’m better than that.” 

Hifumi made another noise, a whimpered plea even he couldn’t understand, and stood up. He trembled and breathed in the cold night air that rushed through the broken window. 

Murasame wacked Hifumi in the head with the side of the pitchfork, toying with him.

Hifumi stumbled to the side, now fully in front of the empty window frame, shards of glass still clinging to the sides. Part of him wondered if he should say something cool. Last words were supposed to be cool, right? That was for heroes, and he had always wanted to be one. He had always wanted too much.

Murasame bared his teeth and stabbed forward, the tines of his pitchfork sinking into Hifumi’s abdomen. For a moment all Hifumi could feel was the force of it, like a gut punch, something he hadn’t been a stranger to back in his middle school days. But sharp pain quickly followed, spreading, and he staggered back, the heel of his shoe hitting open air. He grabbed at the long handle of the pitchfork reflexively, unable to do anything about it.

Murasame lunged forward, trying to grab the handle of his weapon, but he missed. The revving of a chainsaw grew steadily closer, as well the unhinged laughter of an ultimate pushed to the edge. Hifumi’s killer didn’t bother watching him fall, instead running in search of a new weapon.

Hifumi gasped raggedly as he tipped out of the window, the world swinging away until all he saw was the sky. The black of night was endless, the faded stars twinkled, the moon still shined. They wouldn’t change with one boy’s death. They wouldn’t care.

As he fell, all he regretted was not giving Hina and Sakura a better goodbye. He felt the slight scrape of leaves and then his body slammed into the ground, rendering him unconscious. 

He wouldn’t wake for days. When the school’s security would find him during their sweep of the grounds, it would be an hour after they already found the unresponsive, unconscious body of Aiko Umesawa, her yellow rabbit hoodie stained pink. She would be taken to a nearby hospital, and she would be silenced before she had a chance to wake.

Hifumi was found later, a pitchfork still stuck in his stomach, and that was for the best, as it staved off the worst of the bleeding as it stayed in the wound. He had sustained a head injury and a cut to his arm, but it was better than the twelve dead students littering the second floor of Hope’s Peak Academy. A dozen bright, beautiful students all dead, their lives destroyed before they could truly live.

The school board of Hope’s Peak knew another factor to the puzzling killing game. Their pet project, Izuru Kamakura, was missing. The Ultimate Hope, the Ultimate Ultimate, was gone and most of the staff who attended to the project were dead or had been enjoying a day off in the peace of their own home, unknowing that their colleagues were being slaughtered like animals. 

It had to have been Izuru Kamakura that unleashed this bloodshed. The project ensured that the Ultimate Hope had every talent and skill ever recorded, the school board knew how easily their little project could kill, could hide bodies. They assumed it was a vengeful sign to the board, thinking themselves worth the carnage. The school board thought too highly of themselves. They underestimated just how easy it was to bring an ultimate to  a breaking point.

An entire life that culminated in a title, and ultimate, until that was all they were known for. They had to constantly one-up themselves, to constantly prove to others, and to themself, that they were the best. Years of effort, years of blood, sweat, and tears. Everything relied on their ultimate. Their world revolved around it, until they became the embodiment of their ultimate, until their ultimate became them. 

When tasked with murder, with letting go of any inhibition and just committing violence, just causing harm, something any human being was capable of, they took to the task with an almost inhuman speed. Some would need a push, but even then, their calculating mind would whir and they would frame everything to their advantage. They would come out on top, they had to. They were an ultimate after all.

But the school board only saw the brightest of their students, children. The blame was placed on Izuru Kamakura, and they quickly moved to cover up any signs of the incident. 

Hifumi Yamada would have been placed in the same hospital as his student council president, and would have been silenced just the same, two birds with one stone, but that didn’t happen. The Ultimate Nurse Sakura Oogami demanded the school fly her best friend to her clan’s clinic. She would take care of any medical need, or else she and her girlfriend, the Ultimate Gamer, would drop out of Hope’s Peak permanently, and Asahina would use her global fame to ensure that the reputation of their former school was dragged through the mud.

The school board didn’t care much if the reserve course student died, but it was best if the kid died out of their responsibility, so they used the school’s helicopter to fly Hifumi, Sakura, and Hina all to the Oogami clan’s isolated compound. 

Days passed where Sakura tended to her best friend’s wounds, and he awoke. His shifting had roused Hina, who had been sleeping at his bedside, and she ran to get Sakura.

Hifumi couldn’t help but cry in Sakura’s arms, crying himself to sleep within minutes of waking, but this sleep was far more restful. He knew he was safe. He knew he would be cared for. He knew he’d never have to go through something so bad like that ever again.

Two weeks would pass from this incident, and Hifumi would find himself locked in Hope’s Peak Academy, working with the 78th class to bolt over any window and make sure they could never, ever escape. He would agree to lock himself into the building where the worst thing to ever happen to him occurred. He agreed because Hina and Sakura would be at his side. He agreed because he knew they would be safe, together. 

Hifumi’s memories of the School Council Killing Game were unclear. He would wake from nightmares gasping for air, never fully remembering the faces of his fellow students who died, only remembering the indifferent moonlight and the gleam of deranged eyes. 

When Hifumi would ask Kyoko Kirigiri if they had ever met before, the Ultimate Lucky Student would smile awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders and saying that he must be thinking of someone else, and he would believe her, unknowing of the deep, undying loathing she carried in her heart towards him. Unknowing that she had sworn to kill him with her own hands one day.