#BUT THIS GAME IS PRETTY ANGST

[galaxygermdraws]

so instead of get back into art after the basic recovery of my surgery, I instead replayed Mario and Luigi Partners in Time…and why does nobody talk about this game?? Hardly ever see it in the Super Mario tag. Like. It’s actually insane how dark it gets. People die. Like actually die. Not as dark as SPM but like we see the dead spirits of Toads get siphoned through tubes. They had their life force sucked out of them via genetically modified trees. Yoshis were eaten by a larger alien Yoshi and were gonna be turned into more alien Yoshis via a factory IN THE GIANT ALIEN YOSHI. We see a town that’s literally just “Christmas is Cancelled” the city. Their mayor probably died. We never see these places restored because there are no survivors to restore them. The citizens of Hollijolli village probably all died by the time the bros shut down the Vim factory. And also there’s the entire scene with the Star Gate. Like. Hello??

maybe I’ll stream or let’s play this game and share it here because I think. More ppl should talk about Partners in Time. I’ll say it too: I like it more than Bowser’s Inside Story. By like a LOT. That’s my ramble for the night. Ttyd day tomorrow. Yippee

[bigolialragu]

hecate

(print)

[ch3rr13zk1n]

Lamperty hfjiONE

I also have multiple alternative versions of this image since i never know which version i like more!! (I have a problem please help)

Like and reblog or i'll force you to like Gnarpy or smth

[just-qonika]

"i really, loved the literature club."

id like to think after monikas "deleted" this is how it feels to look back on everything that happened; she has a guilty conscience once she realizes how far everything got taken, and how bad it really was.

ᵐᵒⁿⁱᵏᵃ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ˢᵒ ᵐⁱˢˢ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳⁱᶻᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ᴴᵁᴿᵀˢ :⁽ ˢʰᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃⁿ ᵉᵛⁱˡ ʸᵃⁿᵈᵉʳᵉ

[chaosfantasmic]

Lu fandom I love you to death but PLEASE write centric about other characters BESIDES WILD I'm begging y'all. Like yea he's good, he has trauma and stuff like that but what about SKY The guilt of starting everything and getting told "you suck bitch" to his FACE And wind who had to stab a man and save his sister at 12 and wars like yea wild has war trauma but what about WARS ITS IN HIS NAME I love wild but y'all use him WAY TOO MUCH, and water him down to "funny depressed gender man that sets things on fire" and ignore the fact that he's actually pretty mature sometimes. Like yea there's a bunch of interesting things you can do with him but be honest HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE DONE THAT ALREADY What about Times magic, wars not being canon, four and the minish, Sky and oh my god the OPPORTUNITIES y'all miss with this man. And its sad bc if wild isn't your favorite in the fandom, then your basically in the trenches when it comes to finding good centric fics for literally ANY other character. No hate to y'all wild lovers out there, but as a wars fan, good angst for this man is like a delicacy. I love wild when he acts like how he does in the comics, a little chaotic but still mature. Y'all don't have to hate him I sure don't, but there are so many missed opportunities yall dont use over something that's arguably been done a million times.

(but pls don't go harass wild fans after this that won't solve anything)

[fyepertine]

Something to Cry About, Part 2

=============

Part 1

[sensitiveheartless]

Teleporting nonsense? 👀 (where are they going)

Oh gosh, this one is almost aggressively goofy — Chuuya gets hit with an ability which keeps teleporting him to Dazai every single time that Chuuya thinks about him. Which, according to the laws of "trying not to think of a pink elephant", immediately becomes nearly impossible for Chuuya to avoid (also they are Weird about each other which doesn't help askdfjskdjf)

Here's a snippet from towards the beginning:

---

Suddenly, without warning, Dazai heard an odd popping noise, and something—or rather, someone—materialized out of thin air, dropping on top of Dazai with a yelp.

…Of course, since Dazai was in the midst of tipping his chair back, he had no chance to brace himself, and he and the newcomer both went tumbling down backwards onto the floor, the chair producing a loud crash that echoed throughout the agency.

“Dazai!” Kunikida exclaimed, jumping to his feet and reaching for his notebook, prepared to fight the intruder. “Are you alright?!”

Atsushi jolted up as well, backing away from the chaotic jumble of limbs beside his chair. “Wait,” he said, squinting. “Isn’t that…?”

The newcomer struggled up from Dazai’s chest, his cheeks flaring redder than his disheveled hair, opening and closing his mouth wordlessly with an expression of utter fury.

Dazai wheezed, dazed from being so abruptly crushed, and propped himself up on his elbows. “Chibi is so heavy,” he complained automatically, peering up at his old partner. “…Chuuya? How did you get here?”

Chuuya flushed somehow even darker than before, the red spreading to the tips of his ears and down his neck beneath his choker. Before anyone could say another word, however, he jumped up from Dazai’s lap to storm over to the nearest window and wrench it open. “Stupid—fucking—ability user!” he shrieked as he launched himself over the sill. “Forget this ever happened!”

Then he glowed dark crimson with his ability and leapt away into the sky, vanishing over the rooftops of Yokohama.

In the aftermath, Dazai cautiously picked himself up from the floor, dusting off his waistcoat with an expression of disdain. “Such a messy slug, leaving without so much as an explanation,” he sniffed, and wrangled his chair back upright so he could sit once again. Before long, a sly look crossed his face. “Say, Kunikida-kun, since I’ve just been injured in an altercation with the Port Mafia, surely I don’t have to work anymore today—?”

“You’re perfectly fine!” Kunikida snapped, though not before checking over Dazai’s condition carefully. “…Still, that was peculiar. What do you suppose happened to him?”

Dazai shrugged, kicking his feet back up onto the desk once more. “Who knows?” he sighed. “The Port Mafia comes across all sorts of abilities in the course of their dealings. I expect the slug found himself up against some manner of teleportation-type gifted, that’s all. Though why he would wind up teleporting here specifically, I don’t kn—”

Before Dazai could finish his sentence, they heard another loud POP, and Chuuya once more appeared out of nowhere to drop straight down onto Dazai’s lap. This time, though still caught off guard, Dazai managed to remain upright in his chair by grabbing hold of Chuuya’s waist to steady him.

The pair stared at each other for a long, stunned moment, both equally nonplussed.

Chuuya broke out of it first and buried his face in his hands, letting out a low hiss of frustration. “Are you fucking serious,” he said into his palms, slightly muffled. “Every single time?”

Dazai grinned, sensing blood in the water. “Gotten yourself into a fix, have you hatrack?” he said innocently.

[clarissaweasley-10]

WHY.ISNT.THERE.A.SINGLE. ROHAN.FANART.IN.THIS. FANDOM.

[worldfullofash]

Thinking about Finnick Odair (thg spoilers)

When Annie was captured by the Capitol Finnick realised that he couldn’t protect her this time. He couldn’t help her, couldn’t save her. He blames himself.

“I wish she was dead. I wish they were all dead and we were too”

District 13 gave him a rope to fidget with. Notice how the rope is short? They were probably afraid he would do something to himself. He even told Katniss he wished he was dead in this scene^ (And he joked about it in a deleted scene)

Finnick wishes Annie was dead too. He doesn’t want her to go through more pain. He wants to join her in death. He’s hoping for a more peaceful life there. He wants to see Mags again. He wants to live his life the fullest without feeling like a robot.

Finnick wants to be asleep, doesn’t matter if he has bad dreams. He doesn’t want to wake up if Annie isn’t at his side.

First Finnick had lost himself.

Then he lost Mags.

And now he might lose his Annie too.

Finnick gives Katniss advice. He shows that he has experience with dealing with nightmares. He is only 24 and already has gone through so much trauma. While still processing his grief, he makes the effort to help his friend with hers. While still processing his grief, he contributes to the revolution by sharing secrets about the people who hurt him. Secrets he collected, knowing they would come in handy later. He used the brutal situations he was forced into to his advantage. To get the victors back.

He finally had her back. He finally could help her heal. He finally got the opportunity to shield her from harm by participating in the '76th Hunger games’ to end this war. I like to think he did it for her. And it got him killed.

The right person but not enough time.

[ghost-bxrd]

Have to get the brainrot out of my system. Sorry. 😭

[yujeong]

For the micro story ask, how about number 7 (silent fury) for Pete? With your choice of other character/s <3

Ohhh, that's a good one, my friend, thank you so much ❤️ ----------------------- "Hey, P'Pete." "Hm?" "You used to do boxing, right?" "Ah... yes, why?" "What was your nickname?" "My... what?" "The name you'd been given as a fighter. Like how P'Porsche was called The Phoenix." "Well-" "Silent Fury." "Bro, you're not funny." "What? It suits him, doesn't it?" "It sounds stupid and you know it." "It does sound a little stupid, Vegas." "I only meant to emphasize your strengths, Pete." "You did a bad job." "Shut up, Macau." "Phi never answered the question. What was it?" "I... didn't have one." "You didn't? But why?" "No point for a fighter who's bad at his job." "Pete-" "No, I refuse to accept it. We're giving you one right now... Don't laugh, Phi, I'm being serious!" "Fine, Macau. Do whatever you want. But it can't be Silent Fury." "It suits you-" "Hia won't participate in the brainstorming. Only me and P'Pete." "Okay, that's it. No dinner for you." "Will I not get dinner either, Vegas?" "It depends, Pete. Are you going to behave?" "Ugh, never mind, I'm out of here. You started being gross again." "Food will be ready in an hour!" "You better have finished until then!" "No promises."

[thecorpuscorpse]

#6- An Anonymous Source

CW: Knife use and blood, some 'fighting', mild kidnapping

It had been two months since the sealed letters began showing up on Villains bedroom window at night when they weren't there. Each one with a different wax embellishment on the front, made of paper worn with time, and never signed. The swirling perfection of the calligraphy was unlike anything Villain had seen before, just like the words they formed. Five letters were stacked on the desk, and the sixth Villain held by the lamplight, eyes scanning over words they always wished to hear. In brief moments, they almost believed them.

The life they lived was not as tender as the words directed at them. There was no beauty in bloodshed- not anymore, at least. Yet, whoever seemed to be hiding in their blind spot thought otherwise. With how long they ran Headquarters, it was refreshing to have a little spice in the routine of wondering who thought so highly of someone as lowly as them.

After sending their squads out for recon, Villain remained tucked away in their office at headquarters to keep an eye on cameras when one detected movement in the server room. Villain knew each employee schedule inside and out- after all, they arranged each one. Within the orchestrated machine-like facility Villain spent so many years building up, the blaring alarm was akin to grinding gears.

Hero.

Every so often, Hero would figure out a new password Villain set, or intercept shipment plans that then would lead Villain to foil Heros plans, and the process would repeat in a few weeks. It was so hard to find good help nowadays, so Villain found handling Hero a nice break from handling paperwork. There was monotony in routine, but at least they could take their impatience with their anonymous admirer out on the other.

"Dammit... now of all times, Hero?" They snapped as they stood from their desk.

As much as the alarm irked them, Villain was more irritated their work was being interrupted. Scanners failed to pick up any DNA trace, leading them to another dead end. Somewhere, someone saw Villain and thought fondly of them. For a while, the simple knowledge of it was enough to qualm the loneliness, but now was more of a curse. They called the author a coward. They called the letters a trap. Yet, Villain headed down the hall to pursue a perpetrator after they stayed up until four in the morning... again... to read the letters in hope something would tell them who claimed to adore them so.

The door to the server room was ajar, main lights turned out. The dull glow of blinking red, blue and yellow lights cast shadows on the wall in varied patterns. The main lights were shorted, forcing them to identify misplaced figures in the dim light. It only dug further into Villains impatience with the matter. Against the low hum of the computers, a tinny clank echoed near the back wall.

Villain kept steady strides slow, mindful of the linoleum under their shoes and how quiet their breath was. Silence, as well as any leverage, was better than none, and it worked to Villains virtue when it guided the blade to the turned back of who they knew was tampering with their tech.

"I don't have time for you tonight, Hero," Villain said as they pressed the knife against their spine. "There is plenty of work for me as is without you getting involved."

Dressed in all-black, which happened to be quite flattering for the Hero, they tuned after setting their tools down and raising their hands. Villain took a step forward and pressed the edge to their throat.

"That's why I figure I'd lighten the load~" Hero said, offering an innocent shrug. "By-"

"Yes, yes, thwarting my recruitment of more people through disrupting our log system," Villain droned, pressing the blade harder. "Now really, I do have pressing matters to attend to."

There was a static in the air, and not from the whirring machines around them. The more Villain stood in it, the more irritated they got. It showed in the quick right cross-swing of butt-end of the knife towards Heros head before the move was blocked by Heros hand.

"Wow, whats the matter with you?" Hero mused with a shit-eating grin as he twisted Villains arm into a lock behind their back. The knife clattered onto the floor. "Not very like you to 'not have time for me', Villain. Plus, what a sloppy execution."

"You don't know me, Hero," Villain hummed with a smile in their voice, flexing their hand under Heros grip. "So I'll show you a real sloppy execution."

Villain dug their heel into Heros foot, and used the momentum to twist them to slam into the server paneling. With the grip loosened, Villain snaked away and went for the knife. It was only a second more before Villain was swept off their feet- literally- and hit the ground.

"Yeah, that was pretty sloppy too," Hero said as they went to further restrain the fallen Villain. "You're making me jealous, don't tell me there's another Hero you have to go cause havoc for~ Ugh, I'll be heartbroken!"

Villain struggled against Heros grasp, writhing and twisting their body so they could never get a solid pin. While Hero had their brawn at their side, Villain knew it was only a matter of leverage.

"I do, but they aren't a Hero~"

They took the moment Hero stalled in their attempts to pin them down to get their lets out to kick Hero back, knocking the wind out of them. Villain went for the knife again and came up behind Hero to hold the knife to their throat again.

"Bullshit," Hero gasped out, though an amused smile graced their stupid face. "I can barely tolerate you as it is."

Villain contemplated for a moment. What harm would a white lie do when they didn't even know who was writing the letters? There would be no one else to go after. It would be nice to pretend- Villain did it enough as it was.

"Oh, you should hear how they talk about their love for my vile and vulgar ways Hero. How they adore the plans of misery I make for the thousands," Villain gripped Heros hair and tilted their head back to look at them proper. "And the tongue they have..."

"Then why aren't you with them now?"

"Because I'm dealing with you," Villain said as their jaw set. "A thorn in my side since we crossed paths, and always coming back like a damn infection," They brought the edge up against Heros neck. "You are pestiferous- a plague in my life every time your head pops up." Villain narrowed their eyes, bringing small beads of blood against the blade. "And I think I'm going to purge the source tonight."

"Then do it."

Below them, there was a rumble followed by a blaring alarm from what Villain assumed was a few floors down. It only took one distracted second for Hero grab Villains wrist and flip them over and onto their back before they dove behind a rack of server blocks. There was a flash, and the room filled with smoke. The colors against the smoke were disorienting, yet once Villain got hold of their knife, they could barely make out a figure escaping through one of the vents.

"One thing after a-fucking-nother..." Villain hissed as they ran out from the server room and towards the blaring fire alarm down below.

Once done dealing with the aftermath of a blown-apart storage unit, Villain trudged back up to their office and collapsed in their chair. It was now six in the morning, and looking at the camera they had set up to face their bedroom window at home- no letter to be seen on the window. They pushed their hair back with a sigh, before deciding to freshen up there, and continuing their monotonous work for their empire, with breaks reading loving words Villain needed to hear after such a long night.

---

The seventh letter was different than the rest.

It had taken longer than the rest to arrive- almost a month later than the last one, when the others came once or twice a week. Nights were seemingly endless when Villain would simply stare at the window from the camera. They knew if they were home, they wouldn't arrive, and so they worked long into the night, going home every few days to make sure their plants were watered.

Unlike the other ornate and delicately put together envelopes, the newest came in a simple black one. The handwriting was reminiscent of the others yet the words scrawled unsteadily. The droning news anchor in the background discussed the impending weather as Villain attempted to make sense of everything they were reading.

What was said was not the romantic poetry they were used to, of regrets and promises they wished to keep to Villain of seeing them, of truly being with them and being sure there would be nothing keeping them apart anymore.

The signature at the bottom made Villains heart sink. Not because of who had written the confession they read. Not because it was from someone they wouldn't have wanted at all. But because it wasn't a signature at all.

Except a smear of blood.

Villains head felt light, the corners of their vision hazing a little as they tried to make sense of what it all meant. They sat down in their chair, still staring at the letter before them. It wasn't until the news anchor interrupted their broadcast with breaking news.

'The beloved and respected savior of our beautiful city, Hero, has officially been pronounced dead today by coroners after their body had been returned to city officials by an anonymous source. Further details the cause to be released.'

"No..."

They took a long look at the radio, eyes wide in disbelief as their mind began to piece everything together. In a moment, they were at their sequencer and after they got a sample of the paper, pulled out their knife. What little blood left from their fight with Hero remained, and they flaked off the dry remains in the other bottle. Time blurred as they waited, walking crop circles into their carpet while the machine processed the samples.

They didn't see anyone on the cameras the night before. No sound, no disturbance. First nothing was on the window, and when daylight broke, there it was. They hadn't dealt with Hero recently, which they only grew to notice the more they thought.

They couldn't settle down, and any time their office door was knocked on, they would simply throw a book at it and tell whoever it was to bother them tomorrow. Word must have gone around because soon the knocking stopped and Villain was left alone with the machine, which whirred just like the servers did their last night with Hero.

They were pulled out of their mind when the machine stopped, and the face glowed green with the information Villain already put together in their walk about their office.

DNA Sequencing Completed- Results: 100% Match

---

Villain drummed their thumb against the steering wheel of the car. Occasionally, it would follow the tempo of their racing heart, or the shake in their muscles from the adrenaline in their blood. The timer they set on their phone for five minutes was halfway through. Villain regretted even permitting that much time to wait. It had been too long already, and with any more time, they could be too late.

Three minutes and no sign. Villain shifted in their seat, instead now tapping their foot and squeezing their hands together. The last they slept was indistinct, waiting for the right moment to make their next move. A drastic one, which would leave more loose ends than they would like, but it was just as a drastic situation they had on their hands.

Four minutes and Villain was getting ready to get out and handle the ordeal themselves. They checked to make sure their gun was loaded, as they did a dozen or so times before even though they hadn't used it. Before they reached the door handle, the passenger side opened to Villains relief.

"Very good. Hurry up." Villain said, gesturing with the gun to get in.

Five minutes was all Villain needed. As they sped off, the silence was cushioned by the low hum of the car. Villain didn't know what to think. What to say. What if, in the time they were gone, Hero was too? The thoughts were heavy as Villain drove, until their passenger pulled them out of their head.

"I shouldn't be doing this..."

"Then why are you." Villain said, rather than asked.

"Well, you told me with a gun to my head that you hunt me down and kill my girlfriend in front of me, then send my body parts to various family members."

"Good memory, and I will if you make any attempts to run."

"Good to know..." The accomplice said with a tight-lipped smile before looking down at the bag.

"And... I'm helping someone, aren't I?" They asked after another moment of passing silence. "Someone you care about?"

There was a thick lump that sunk into Villains throat. It irked them to know they had to get outside sources with such a high risk, but they were pushed to no other choice. They offered a single, but humble nod before turning off onto a dirt road.

"What the fuck did you say you did again?"

"I'm a first assistant," they said as they shuffled the medical bag on their lap while twisting the handles nervously. "Not quite a surgeon, but I'm getting there."

"Of course, I pick up the intern in the operating room..." Villain uttered as they watched the road. The car, being small, only allowed the young surgeon to hear the remark clearly.

"The operating rooms of the ICU," they huffed a bit too confidently for Villains liking. "Much more intense and less room for error. I mostly make sure the room is clean but I do help with sutures, and other general care."

With a less than patient sigh, Villain parked the car in the driveway and looked the young surgeon square in the face, gun held towards them with a finger threatening pressure on the trigger.

"Keep your attitude in check, and keep them alive." They said flatly. "Both the person I'm bringing you to, and your girlfriend."

It had just been the two of them since Hero showed up battered, beaten and bloodied just two weeks before. They hadn't gotten better and while Villain was good at many things, medical diagnosis weren't one of them. They took leave from work to get Hero somewhere more secluded than Villains home closer to the city.

When Hero was awake, Villain limited themselves to one question because Hero would get winded from speaking too much. Day by day, they learned how Hero wanted things to be different, not only for themselves only, but between the two. How they grew to love Villain, admire them and respect them, to want them yet be restricted from doing so. Hero detailed how they convinced a select few to assist them in faking their death with a glow which made Villain hopeful, but then Hero fell asleep before telling them how it went, and hadn't woke up since. It'd been three days.

With a nervous nod in understanding, the two got out of the car, and Villain walked the man to the house with a gun drawn on them the entire way. Sleepless nights were still to come, yet there was a bit more relief in knowing Hero stood more of a chance now. Villain hoped they didn't make a mistake, for Hero wouldn't be able to survive it.

[skyward-floored]

Ask game, X, please and thank you!

X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

Well all of them really... Hyrule angst/whump always hits me especially hard though. I don't know what it is about him especially, but any suffering with him just always gets me, I don't know. I've never had any problems with making him suffer in fics, if it's focused on him those words will fly off my fingers.

[queerdiazs]

tease tidbit tuesday

mm hoa eddie is fighting me and the only thing i can liken it to is casting a line and getting it caught in a tree every goddamn time while the person you’re fishing with keeps catching prizes. pisses me off.

but i’m giving it my ALL and fingers crossed i can finish it before the premier!

also? do we want daily chapters or everything uploaded at once?

The worst part is that he took advantage of Buck’s loyal affection and used it to benefit his pocket and reputation in the neighborhood. Hindsight’s crystal clear and Eddie’s not the brightest crayon in the box, but he thought out of everyone in the whole wide world he’d be the one that never hurt Buck like that.

tagged by @watchyourbuck, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @rogerzsteven, @exhuastedpigeon, @daffi-990, @wikiangela, and @disasterbuckdiaz, mwah

tagging @spagheddiediaz, @jeeyuns, @puppyboybuckley, @monsterrae1, @wildlife4life, @thewolvesof1998, @devirnis, and @monsterrae1 if any of you have something you wanna share!

[bloomingbluebell]

if there's a zagreus fight in hades 2 and melinoë doesn't say his name in that same incredibly frustrated and furious tone as hades in his fight during the first game, i am going to be SO disappointed

[dansconcepts]

Everything's Coming Up Hajime

The following drabbles (they're little scenes of different things with some more detailed than others because a fic was too ambitious for me :'>>>) completely and wholly inspired by and dedicated to @gliittergelpens for their headcanon post on Hajime (found here) and also the connected follow up interaction here. Go check 'em out :D! And I hope you enjoy this :).

Bleary lights. Bright. Dreary. 

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

NO!

Bolt, bolted, he can’t move, why can’t he move? Everything’s not okay, why is he here again? Where are they? Get to the corner, get to the corner, he can’t move he can’t move!- (why is he prolonging the inevitable? He hasn’t done that in so long)

Pressure starts compounding on his chest. He shakes. He doesn’t want to go again, it’s going to be another round of tests again, he didn’t know he agreed to this! Let go, let go, let GO!

“Hajime.”

They never call him that. He is the subject, their project, the plaything to rip apart because he is nothing more than an experiment. He is not a person. He is not Hajime.

“Hajime.” They repeat. “It’s Makoto.”

Makoto?

He doesn’t recognize-

Makoto Naegi.

He blinks. His body slumps. As if his body was lead, his head slowly turns toward the source.

“Makoto Naegi” was never one of the researcher’s names. He knows, because he remembered each and every one, even if he didn’t want to. No, Makoto Naegi is someone else entirely, someone who isn’t associated with the Project. 

Sage-coloured irises meet his gaze first. They are warmer than any of the researchers’ eyes. 

…He isn’t in a lab, is he?

“Muh-” He winces. His voice sounds terrible. 

“Hey, drink up.” Makoto commands, not unkindly. “I know you’ve been in there for a while, but try your best.”

A glass of water is held to his lips and once they hit, his lips burn, but he downs it gratefully anyway. His throat protests in agony.

“Do you know where you are and what happened, Hajime?” 

Hajime stretches, pops coming from all his atrophied joints. “W-we- ugh, Jabberwock Island. K-cough-illing game.” The Killing Game. At the reminder, adrenaline starts coursing through him, and he immediately lurches out of the pod.

Makoto gently pushes him back.

“Yes. The other survivors are awake, but they do not hold the memories you do.”

“W-what about everyone else? What happened to them?”

“They’re still in the pods.” He tries jumping out again. “BUT!” Makoto blurts out. “BUT they’re okay. They’re not in the killing game right now. They seem to have created their own worlds-”

“What can I do to wake them up?” He quickly interrupts. 

“Oh, um, I was going to get to that part.” A small smile stretches on his face. “I knew you’d want to help. I would’ve been the same.” 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Darkness. 

He feels so tired.

He hasn’t felt this tired in… so long. Everything… is so tiring.

Lights threaten to blind him. 

No. 

Let him sleep.

Let him sleep…

“Hey, Nagito... it’s Hajime.” 

He stirs. Hajime?

He looks at the tanned skin, eyeing the scars on the undersides of his eyes, further littered over his arms, and then tracing back to his equally scarred lips, that were currently sipping on a cup in his hands.

“Ha-jime.” He croaks. Wordlessly, Hajime provides him some water. With weak hands, he reaches out toward the cup, and manages to squeeze enough of a firm grasp on it. Hajime continues sipping while he slowly gulps down the offered water. 

“Ahem,” He coughs. “Hinata, my apologies. …What happened?”

“You’re one of the last few to wake up, Komaeda.” Hajime replies, and notably, provides no context. “What do you remember?”

The question sparks his silence. His mouth purses into a deeply thin line. He eyes the man in front of him. Is there something he must have forgotten? “...Nothing particularly pleasant.” He decides on.

Hajime scrutinizes him. He stays quiet. Hajime slumps over with a sigh. “Okay, fair enough. Your pod opened, but you wouldn’t wake up. You’re in the hospital now.”

He looks around. Yes, he gathered that. The white walls and bright fluorescent lighting weren't foreign to him, he would recognize such a place no matter where he was. He could voice that, but there are more pressing concerns.

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand. How did I get here?”

“We went through a rehabilitation program.”

“Ah.” The memories are hitting him now. “Yes, sorry, I do remember us Remnants being captured for such a thing, although I don't remember much else.” He hums, looking the other up and down. “It worked, then?”

“That depends. How do you feel? About, you know, hope and despair and all that.”

“Well,” He chuckles, “if you’re worried I’m going to blow up this hospital in the pursuit of ‘a greater hope’, you would be greatly mistaken.”

Hajime breathes out a sigh of relief. “But I imagine my luck could affect that greatly. It's very fortunate you could balance it out.” The other gazes away from him, looking down in thought. How curious. Was it something he said?

He subtly tilts his head. The brunet covertly glances around, as if he was watching for something. Piercing eyes returns to meet his. “You can't get up to any crazy shit just because I can do that.” The other jokingly chastises, but his eyes remained guarded.

He nods with an smile. “Oh, I would never.” To anyone, it would simply be him teasing. However, he can tell Hajime's trying to hide something about his talents, and someone here is watching them. He wonders who would cause such paranoia.

Hajime fills him in on what occurred, being saved by the "Future Foundation" (oh, it's them.) and particularly specific members (Makoto! As in Makoto Naegi, The Ultimate Hope Makoto? Yes Komaeda, just keep it in your pants.), as well as explaining Nagito’s status, his mental and physical state (still affected by his pre-existing conditions, albeit less so), and the new addition to his body.

He turns it. He didn't even notice he had a new arm. It feels seamless, although the metal is strange to feel underneath his fingertips.

“I had to replace it.” Hajime explains. “The dead tissue was threatening to spread to the rest of your body if it was kept there. It was fine when we were hooked up to the pods since that was preserving it, but since you went into a coma, we had to act fast.”

“Hmm.” He curls his newfound metallic fingers. He sends him a smile. “It seems I owe a lot of my gratitude to you, Hinata, for helping trash like me.”

There's a pause. “We'll work on that,” is the response Hajime settles with. “...Do you want to meet everyone else?”

He freezes. Everyone else?

Although he doesn't know why, he feels himself pale completely and his body shivers. Everything in him feels cold, as if the temperature dropped, as if his whole body rejected the very idea of something he was otherwise only semi-wary about. He knows he had many reasons before to feel apprehensive around his former classmates, given his past transgressions during his time as a Remnant and theirs, but this feels... bone-chilling. Buried deep within his psyche, perhaps connected to the memories he doesn't have.

“What happened in the program.” He bluntly states, rather than asks.

“No one else remembers too, if that helps.” Hajime starts. It doesn't. “Even I barely remember it. Everyone has felt snippets though, things they avoid subconsciously, or they experience nightmares about it.” He wonders if Hajime has nightmares. He wonders what Hajime avoids. “It was broadcast-”

“I want to watch it.”

Hajime's jaw tightens. “It wasn't that type of broadcast. It wasn't recorded, it was just shown to Makoto and the other survivors. Besides, it's best you don't anyway. You're going to remember something about it.”

“How cynical. What if all I remember are pleasant things?” Nagito inquires, even if he knows the likelihood of that is so astronomically low. He is aware of himself. He knows being put into a situation like the Killing Game would just mean he'd have made very elaborate plans and schemes. Thinking that, a sharp pain in his abdomen sears through him, and he winces. It's a whisper of a feeling, but it felt... real.

Hajime merely lets out a defeated sigh. “I hope it is, Komaeda, I hope it is.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Throughout everything, this was the last thing he thought about. 

The scars. 

For the longest time, he forgot about the scars. For the briefest of moments, his complexion wasn’t completely covered by raised bumps, of angry red tissue, of the careless abandon from scientists who dissected him to fit their molds of perfection. 

And now he’s left looking into the mirror, tracing. His fingers feel the ridges. He remembers the scalpel digging into his eye, even if he didn’t feel the pain of it. He looks at the angry lines along his muscles, his thighs, and he knows with certainty it can be traced down to his feet, the bathroom counter being the only reason he can’t see the reflection of it. He remembers exactly what they forcibly fused together, being haunted by the ghosts of the sutures that were once there.

This is who he sees looking back at him.

…Mikan cleans the glass away from his fist.

[He could’ve done it himself, but it would’ve been a messier job, much like with anything else he would try nowadays.]

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Hajime is out training with Nekomaru, alongside Akane, and casually working out with them.

Nekomaru points out the bandages that suddenly replace his glove, and he waves them off. “Just an accident.” 

After a decent workout, he starts heading back to his cabin to shower when he spots Fuyuhiko to the side, relaxing against a wall.

“Hey.” He greets.  

“Yo.” The former yakuza head nods.

They watch those on the beach, a tall orange blurb chases after a red one, their laughter filling the air as suddenly they're jumped by an even louder multicoloured blurb cackling with mischief. He can hear Hiyoko's distant cursing while Mikan rushes over, fretting. He snorts.

Fuyuhiko crosses his arms, a smile on his face at the scene. “Can’t believe we get to have this.” 

“I know.” He agrees. He’d do anything to ensure everyone here stayed happy like this. Speaking of, he has to make sure to check on the next shipment of supplies afterward. He refuses to have those Future Foundation workers anywhere near the Island otherwise. But first, shower.

He's about to leave when-

“What’s with the bandages?” The former yakuza asks.

He contemplates lying. The last thing he wants is for everyone to start worrying about him. As if aware of his thoughts, Fuyuhiko sends him a particularly scathing glare, menacing even with the eyepatch. He fesses up immediately. 

“I punched a mirror.”

“Why?”

“My scars-” He starts. 

Fuyuhiko quickly interjects. “There’s nothing wrong with them.”

“Part of me understands that, but I look at them and just see…” Hope's Peak. The Hope Cultivation Project. The Remnants of Despair. He squeezes his bandaged hand. “...bad memories.”

“Yeah, I feel that.” Almost subconsciously, Hajime glances at Fuyuhiko’s scar, hidden behind black cloth. Fuyuhiko meets his gaze, unflinching. “I hate thinking about having that bitch’s eye in me.”

“How do you do it?” How do you look at yourself in the mirror? How do you live with yourself? How do you not hate yourself? 

“Being a former yakuza, scars were symbols of respect. This scar?” He gestures to it. “It’s a reminder I’m not some psychotic fuck anymore under that bitch’s heel.

I know I’m not you, Hajime. I don’t have the amount you have. But know that your scars show that you’ve survived, and you’ve made it out the other side. That’s admirable.

And ain’t nobody here went through the type of shit you did. We all look up to you. You’ve had this whole thing on your shoulders. Nobody thinks you’re damaged goods with those scars. Hell, we think of them as a reminder that you’re the strongest out of all of us.” 

“...Thanks, Fuyuhiko.”

“No problem. Now you should go take a shower, you smell like shit.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Hajime waits in front of the screen. In no time, Chiaki's grinning face pops up. “Hey Hajime. It's nice to see you. How're you doing today?”

They talk amicably. Even though she wasn't his former friend, the reminder of her AI was comforting, and in the few pleasant dreams he had, he remembered her presence (and in the worser ones, he remembered her death).

“-There's a call for you by the way, I think. It's from Makoto.” He nods. “Thanks Chiaki.”

She patches him through, and he finds it so striking the difference between now and the tentativeness from the beginning, back when they were still establishing Jabberwock Island. Signal seemed daunting, and they (him, Makoto, and Byakuya) were still trying to get Chiaki's AI booted back up. He remembers when they first suggested she try to call the Future Foundation (particularly Aoi, since Hajime refused to have the new Future Foundation head or some random member appear on the screen, since he'd contemplate breaking the nice monitor in half from sheer rage). “It's not what I’m programmed to do,” Chiaki had said, “but… I can try.”

Of course, Makoto and himself exchange pleasantries and talk for a bit, but then it derails into... less pleasant topics. “I'm hoping to finish up the layout for Hope's Peak.”

He tightens a hand over his glove, pursing his lips. “Makoto. I’m glad you want to reclaim yourself, but Hope’s Peak? Really?” He hisses, and Makoto sighs, as if they had this same argument over and over again. 

They have, by the way. Relentlessly. He is NOT getting over this, not by a long shot. He already knows how much Makoto invested into the project, but he’s still of the very firm belief he should’ve invested zero. Of course, he wouldn’t taint their rare ability to chat with one another about it, but he isn’t above reminding Makoto if he brings it up, just to be petty.

But being TRAUMATIZED WATCHING YOUR FRIENDS GET MURDERED is one of the many valid reasons for having absolutely NO interest in seeing the place that tortured him, everyone he cares about, Makoto, everyone Makoto cares about, and basically THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD, come back to existence. 

He loves Makoto, he does, and he knows Makoto’s a good guy, but… 

The idea of Hope’s Peak not being some fucked up breeding ground for hope and despair? It doesn’t seem possible. Part of the problem in the first place was the idea of pitting students against each other, forcibly defining people's significance based on whether they had “talent” or not. As well, they really sucked at developing talented people's talent, giving arbitrary assignments (from what he heard) and no actual practicality applied. He would know. His body is literally littered with their failure.

And the Future Foundation providing a substantial amount of the funds for this project? Hajime has no doubt in his mind that there’s something underlying their generosity. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It's looking to be another sleepless night, despite the weight under his eyes begging for relief. Hajime just stares at the ceiling. He feels the body beside him shift the bed, creaking it ever so slightly, and in his peripherals Nagito faces him. Nagito has always been a bit of a restless sleeper (not that he blames him), so he isn't surprised to hear him ask, “What’s on your mind, Hajime?”

He sighs. “I’m just worried about the whole Hope's Peak idea.”

“You don’t believe in Makoto?”

He quickly flips onto his side to frown at Komaeda for the sheer idea. “I believe in him, I don’t believe in anyone else.”

“Well, I can’t help but feel a little hurt…”

“You know how I feel about you.”

Nagito hums. “Do I?” He smirks. “How do you feel, Hajime?” 

Why is he turned this way again? He flips back around, ignoring the way his ears start to warm up.

“...Shut up and go to sleep already.” 

He hears Nagito chuckle behind his back. It settles eventually though. Ah, Nagito finally went to bed.

“You know,” Nagito's voice pipes up, still awake after all. His voice sounds a little whimsical, as if nearly about to sleep. “I don't necessarily disagree with you. I thought it was a place of great hope, and the fact it's being run by the Ultimate Hope is quite amazing. But...

There's you. And the hope in you has been shining so brightly this whole time.”

He freezes. Did he just-?

The words spark something in him. As if they sounded familiar.

He gets a rush that tea- nor even caffeine back when it did anything for him- has never achieved. When he eventually does sleep that night, his dreams are pleasant.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It's one of those rare instances Makoto lands on Jabberwock Island and can say hi to everyone. They meet at the small restaurant on the Island where Hajime prepares some tea for himself. He offers it to Makoto, who takes it gratefully.

Much like their video chats, the start talking about what's currently going on when Makoto- once again- mentions Hope's Peak.

Hajime lowers his cup.

“I'm going to be reinstating talents at Hope’s Peak.”

His fingers clutch his glove. He digs them in, sharp and quick, his lips immediately pulling down into a frown.

“Did… someone force you to do this?”

“Uh, no?” Makoto averts his gaze. “I’ve consulted with basically everyone since you’ve started getting me a little paranoid…”

“You should be. The Future Foundation doesn’t deserve you. You’re way too good for them.”

“They're trying to change.” Makoto states, with not much conviction.

Hajime hums skeptically. Sure they are. “Just watch out for yourself, yeah? Because the first thing I’ll do is leave this island just to kick their asses. I don’t need an Ultimate to make them into ragdolls.”

Makoto chuckles, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “...You must’ve practiced that.”

“Being around Fuyuhiko and Akane tends to give you some badass lines.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It starts like a regular day. Things break, people fight, problems arise, he deals with it. When he sees the broadcast, he doesn't know how to deal with it.

“Oh, Makoto's on TV. How exciting.” Nagito mentions offhandedly, as if it was something as casual as the weather. It decidedly is NOT. Is Makoto okay? Why would he be broadcasted? Is this another...?

“-ing Hope's Peak,” He catches the tail end of. “In this world, there's nothing more important than banding together to fix the Tragedy that occurred. Rejoice with me as your new headmaster. Alongside the Future Foundation, we'll bring forth a new hope together!” Hajime cringes, and cringes hard. This doesn't sound like Makoto at all. The Future Foundation logo is the last image of this blatant ad, what the fuck, but he's seen enough.

He knows exactly how to deal with this.

He strolls into the new Future Foundation headquarters (although that may be underselling it). Instantly, upon seeing him, people start shrieking and running. Red lights blink in and out. He brushes it off. It’s the last of his damn worries right now.

He's rushed by armoured guys. He suddenly feels like he should've thought this through, but he continues on. He slips himself into the old Remnant persona like an ill-fitting jacket, paired with a little Ultimate Actor prowess. “Let me through or I'll make sure your families have nothing to put into a casket.” Okay, not his best work, but it's enough for them to back off. They watch him. He even hears one guy cowering in fear from behind. It's that which allows him to catch the guy's arm and dislocate it. Everyone jumps at the sudden violence, and the guy screeches.

He knows it's fixable, but he still feels bad. The mask he wears threatens to slip, but he keeps going until he gets to the new Future Foundation head. (Hajime met her before through a forced video call, with them threatening to interfere at Jabberwock Island if he wasn't capable enough. “I am Sumiko Hatanaka,” they introduced themselves. “Ultimate Administrator. Given the circumstances the Future Foundation is currently in, I have become appointed as the temporary replacement head provided my previous experience and commitment to my work.”)

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing.” He sneers.

“How are you here?” She asks. “What are you doing here?”

“That wasn’t my question.” 

He sees a sheen of nervousness across their forehead, but they don't let up their frown.

“Why are you here, Hajime Hinata, Remnant of Despair?” 

Why is he here? Why is he HERE?

“What gave you the right to use Makoto for some ad for Hope's Peak? What the hell are you doing, exposing him further to the public? Do you know what this could do to him?”

“I assure you, I have no vested interest in letting a valued employee be defaced in any way, shape, or form. His mental faculties are highly important to this company. Meanwhile, you are jeopardizing the very people you wished to protect by coming here. Was it worth it?”

He growls, “Leave Makoto the fuck alone, or I’ll remind you why I was a Remnant.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Makoto’s Hope’s Peak is in full operation. He doesn't know if he'll ever visit. So instead, Hajime is left pondering the future, and living on the Island with the rest of his classmates.

He genuinely hopes nothing bad will happen, but...

He wouldn't bet that it won't.