#I've found it super difficult to let it go even if it offically 'died' all the way back in April. Singularity was my fjrst ever villain and-

[forthedancingandthethriving]

Database, as much as they didn't like to, knew of everyone and everything in the world that had been created so long ago. Every Program, every Virus, every Mod, every Admin, anything that was code-born, they knew of it. Their name, their personality, their life.

A blessing and a curse, really.

That was why they were so surprised to see a singular piece of code somehow found its way into their home, which overflowed with powerful code. Not even the strongest codes would ever be able to get into their home, much less a command line.

So as they scoop it up and bring it to their eyes, they muse gently.

"Ah. You. We thought you had been destroyed." Database tilts their head, looking down at what was the final piece of the Code Manifestation, Singularity.

It was a simple command line now. All it wanted? Maximum efficiency.

Their eyes slant from weariness and confusion. "We could have sworn Little Coding had managed to get rid of you.. perhaps the overload didn't get rid of all your code, hm?"

There's no response, of course, but it still left Database wondering. Their thoughts drift back to Welony, the little child that had recently popped up. She was a new version of her old self, wasn't she? Atoning for the mistakes of the past.

Database purses their lips as they think. Who was to say they couldn't do something similar with Singularity? Or, well, what was left of it.

So they got to work. The four of them chimed in, adding what they thought necessary before finally they saw what they had created.

They smile, seeing a small, polygonal cat in their palms.

The legs, tail, and head were attached to the body, unlike Singularity's old model where everything floated. While this new Manifestation had a blue outline, their 'fur' was black, with red 1s and 0s running through it. The only floating parts were its two triangle ears, which were white instead of black. Its head was white as well, with no 1s or 0s, and there were only two 0s on its eyes. One red, one blue.

The Manifestation curiously looks up at Database.

Database pauses before sighing softly. Peering to see events was always a headache, one that the Four would share, but it still hurt.

They have to remove the efficiency command, or else this new Code Manifestation would become Singularity once more.

"This won't hurt, we promise." They assure the Code before gently plucking out the command. They stare at it before crushing it.

"Goodbye, Singularity." They watch the small particles fall. "We hope you finally rest."

Turning their attention back to the Code Manifestation, they ponder. "What shall we name you, hm? What name will we give?"

They think and think before similing.

"We shall keep it simple. You'll be Plurality. A little corny, a little cheesy, but is that not what life is about? To have a bit of fun?" They smile, and they see Pluarlity smile a tad too.

They fit their hands and place the new Code Manifestation on a platform. A bit of digging, and the ties were cut. There was no way anyone would ever find out about Plurality once being Singularity unless Database themselves spoke of it.

At least, they hoped.

"You will be our eyes and ears. You will travel to places we can not see and can not hear, and you will record. You will learn, you will inhabit, and you will return." Database tells Plurality. "But you never tell anyone of who you are."

"I understand." Plurality finally speaks, and Databae smiles. A voice similar to Little Coding's but not so much.

"And most importantly.." They gently push a fingertip against Plurality's chest. "Find yourself. Discover who you are."

A chat box and few other items appear before being dropped into a satchel relative to Plurality's size. The satchel then attaches itself to the Code Manifestation's body before the Code if gently pushed through a portal.

"Make us proud, Plurality."

Pluarlity looks behind to where the portal once was before looking out beyond. An ear twitches.

"Discover myself, huh..? I.. I can do this."

[sunflowershouto]

crisis - shouto todoroki x fem!reader

a/n: enjoy! my requests are open, so if you liked this fic, please feel free to drop me an ask -leo

warnings: marital issues, mentions of parental neglect and abuse (in relation to todoroki's backstory), mild angst

because i write from a third person point of view, i recommend using the interactivefics extension! it replaces y/n, l/n, etc, with whatever you insert into the extension, and helps to make fics super immersive! it's a chrome extension, and you can find it in the chrome store.

[the song that inspired this fic is Crisis by Annie Eve]

𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚. . . 𝑰'𝒎 𝒕���𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖. . . 𝑰'𝒎 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖. . .

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐒

Y/N's keys chimed together softly as she dug them out of her coat pocket, her gloved hands struggling for a moment to take hold of the cool metal. Her face still stung from the cold of the snow outside, and she hurried to unlock the door to the apartment, stepping inside and letting her shoulders slump as soon as the door was shut behind her.

The place was silent, but a glance towards the kitchen, where a light shone dimly through the doorway, told her that Shouto was home.

Without announcing her presence, she slid her coat off, then removed her boots and placed them on the shoe rack, where they stood alone. The coat hanger in the entryway was the same way—her coat was the only one there, looking lonely as it hung in solitude from the rack.

"I'm hom—I'm here," Y/N called tentatively, catching herself before she could say the word 'home.' She lingered awkwardly by the front door, as though afraid to enter. "I'll get started on dinner soon."

There was a long silence as she crossed the hall into the living room, which was pristinely clean, but looked more like a picture from a catalogue than anywhere actually inhabited. The sofa cushions were uncreased, the table spotless and uncluttered. She stared at the room blankly, and realized that she felt like a stranger.

"I've already eaten."

There was no surprise, only a dull sting as she let out a soft sigh, pressing her eyes shut. "Alright. That's fine."

It had been a month of this already, and Y/N knew that most husbands, most couples, would have already worked a way around something like this—at the very least, they would have found a way to sweep it under the rug for a few more months, pretend that it didn't exist. But Shouto wasn't most husbands, and they were not most couples.

When Shouto wanted to hold onto something, he could take it to his grave; how else could he have gone for years without using an entire half of his quirk? She had always loved his stubbornness, admired him for his tenacity, but now when she looked at him, all she could see was a wall that she didn't know how to scale.

It was her fault, this whole argument. She had been the one to bring up the idea of having kids, she had been the one to press him on it, to try to have the conversation before he was ready.

They had been happy. If she had just left well enough alone. . .

Another long sigh drew itself from her chest, and she turned towards the kitchen, footsteps soft against polished hardwood. "Sho. . . Can we at least talk? Please?"

He was sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at an untouched mug of tea that Y/N could only assume had already gone cold. His dual-toned gaze flickered up towards hers for just an instant, and for a moment she thought she saw a spark of progress. Then the ice took over again, and he cast his gaze back down, his mouth bent into an uncomfortable grimace.

Y/N wasn't used to not knowing what to say to him; part of the reason that they had worked so well as a couple was their ability to practice utter candor with one another. This feeling of words being stuck on her tongue. . . It was foreign to her, daunting. Temptation to indulge in her anger sparked in her chest; it would be so easy to snap at him, to remind him with vicious fervor how badly he was hurting her, but those sparks died down as she took another look at his face. She knew that he was hurting too, that he was just as lost for words as she was. "Shou," she tried again, leaning against the doorway, her voice gentle. "We can't do this forever."

His grimace settled deeper into his features, and she saw his shoulders tense, his hands tightening around the ceramic mug. "What can we do?" he finally asked, brow creasing.

"We can talk about this. I know what you're scared of, Shou." Y/N crossed the kitchen to be at his side, her hand coming carefully up to the side of his face, fingertips skimming the red, rough skin over his scar. "You won't be like him. You won't be like your fath—"

"Don't."

Her breath caught in her throat at the feeling of his grip around her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face. His eyes were burning with something that rested in the valley between grief and rage.

His grip tightened again before he let her go, his chair wailing as he shoved it away from the table, his gait hurried as he rushed away from her.

Y/N could only watch as he left the kitchen and disappeared up the stairs like a ghost, drifting farther and farther away. Her eyes stung and a lump burned in her throat, and she fell into the seat that he had been occupying just a moment ago, burying her face in her arms.

She sat in silence under the dim kitchen light until her joints began to ache and her eyelids felt heavy. Eventually, she pulled herself up and padded slowly up the stairs, careful not to walk too loudly. The door to the bedroom felt heavier than usual, and the sight of Shouto lying with his back to her brought her pause. She didn't know if he was awake, if he knew that she was there or not, and part of her didn't care. He didn't move as she retrieved her pillow from her side of the bed and left the room, heading back down the stairs and finding a restless sleep on their barely-used sofa.

The events of that night had alienated her even further, and if there had been a wedge between them before, it now felt like a chasm.

Weeks passed with little change, and though they shared a space, Y/N could hardly say that it felt like they lived together. After the first few nights, Shouto had told her that she could have their bedroom—he would sleep on the couch.

Part of her was angry with him for it; even when he was being infuriating, he still found a way to remind her why she loved him. One kind gesture, however, wasn't enough to make up for almost two months of dysfunction. Y/N realized that she couldn't take this. Not for much longer, at any rate. She got home from work one cold evening, and found him as she usually did, sitting at his desk, handling paperwork for the agency.

"Shouto." Her voice was even, steady because she'd rehearsed this conversation in all its permutations before she'd even made it to their front door. She needed to be ready, or else she knew that she would break.

His hand tightened around his pen, and he froze for a moment, before setting it down and turning in his chair, not quite meeting her eyes. "Yes?"

"Look. . . I love you, but I can't do this. I can't stay here if you're going to act like I don't exist. If avoiding one conversation is worth our marriage, then fine. I'll accept that, but I won't stay. Do you understand?"

His eyes snapped to hers, widening ever so slightly. In that moment, he looked more attentive, more alert than he had in months. "Y/N. . ." His eyes fell shut and he leaned forward against the desk, raking his hands through his hair and drawing in a shaking breath. "I just- I need time. Don't go."

"I've given you time, Shouto," she shot back quickly, raising her voice slightly. "I need you to give me answers."

He fell silent again, staring down at the desk, his hands still tangled in his hair as he realized that he was stuck within an ultimatum.

She was deafened by his silence, and she looked to the side, jaw tightening before she began to step away and out of the room. "I'm going, Shouto." "Y/N—" "Don't."

As soon as she had packed her things, she left the apartment without sparing him another glance.

A week passed, and Y/N quickly realized how accustomed she had grown to living with Shouto; even when they had been sleeping in different rooms for weeks, it felt odd to live somewhere where he wasn't. She found it difficult to sleep in her friend's apartment, and even more difficult to eat with the growing uncertainty that was gnawing a pit in her stomach.

She knew that forgetting her notebook was a weak excuse to go back to the apartment, but she didn't have a better one, and part of her was too prideful to admit that she had simply missed him, that she was starting to feel like it was better to struggle with him than to try to move on without him. At the very least, she wanted to see him again, and maybe there was a little part of her that was hoping that he wanted to see her too.

It was late on a Friday night when Y/N drove back to their apartment, hoping that maybe he'd be asleep, and that she could sneak past him and he'd never have to know that she was thinking about coming back to him.

She tried to muffle the sound of her keys, but they rang loudly as she unlocked the door, trying to remain silent as she slipped back into the apartment. In her absence it had hardly changed; the furniture still looked unused, the kitchen was still perfectly clean. Shouto had never been the type to let his internal turmoil leak out into his surroundings, and Y/N didn't suppose that he was spending much time outside of his office.

She slipped off her shoes, then crept up the stairs without turning on the lights, navigating the dark apartment by memory as she made her way to the bedroom. The door was shut and the light was out, and a feeling of relief washed over her as she realized that he must have been asleep. Slowly, she pushed the door open, and stepped into their room.

Even in the dark, the room was achingly familiar; the colors that she and Shouto had picked out together stood out vaguely in the darkness, and it was all she could do not to succumb to the lump in her throat. She pressed forward, moving towards her nightstand and trying to ignore Shouto, who seemed restless as he slept alone.

When she realized that he was whimpering, she stopped dead in her tracks, her gut twisting. Nightmares were rare for him, but Y/N had always been the one who was there to pull him out of them; now he had no one, and guilt burned at her chest at the idea of leaving him there like that, forsaking him to the demons in his head.

Against her better judgment, she reached forward and flipped the switch on her nightstand lamp, washing the room in a dull, warm glow. In the light, she could see the sheen of sweat on his face, the way his muscles tensed and his face twisted in discomfort. Her heart ached, and she stepped toward him, her own heart pounding in her chest as she did.

This was a bad idea.

He wouldn't want to see her.

She should turn around and let him think that she had never been there.

God, if it wasn't hard to remember why she'd left him at all.

"Shouto," Y/N whispered, moving to his side of the bed and placing her hand lightly on his shoulder. "Shou, wake up. Please, wake up."

The way he started awake made her heart ache—his eyes were wild, ringed with dark circles, his face drained of all color. He searched the room frantically until his eyes fell on her, and his face softened immediately, his hand coming up to her face as though against his will. "Y/N. . ."

She gave him a bittersweet smile, compassion glimmering in her gaze. "You're okay, love. I'm here now." Tears welled up in her eyes as she took him in, took in how exhausted he looked, took in how much he was revealing as he stared at her.

He looked dazed by his swell of emotion, and he didn't hesitate to pull her into his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck as the tension went out of his shoulders, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps. "I'm sorry, Y/N," Shouto whispered, his arms tightening around her. "All of this. . . All of this was because I was scared. I didn't think I could give you what you wanted, and you payed the price. And- And my mother-"

"It's okay, Shou," Y/N murmured, running a gentle hand through his hair. "You don't have to explain."

"No, Y/N. Listen. Please." He drew in another breath before he continued. "After you asked me about having kids, my father came to mind. I didn't—don't—ever want to be like him. But my mother. . . I would go to see her, Y/N, after we had that talk. And when I looked at her, and thought about what my father did. . . All I could see when I looked at her was you. You don't—you don't understand how badly that scared me, Y/N. And I felt, stupidly, that if I said anything about it, that it would make it real. I was too scared to take that risk." His voice was trembling now, vulnerable in a way you'd never heard from him. "Do you understand? I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"God, Shou," Y/N choked out, tears spilling freely down the sides of her face as she clung to him. "You should have told me. I could have- I could have helped you."

"I know, love," he murmured, and Y/N remembered for the first time in months how good it felt to hear him call her 'love.' "I'm still just. . . Learning."

"I'm sorry too. Walking out on you like that, I. . ."

"No, Y/N." He pulled back to stare at her intently, meeting her eyes directly. "You did what you had to do. You were right. You gave me every chance to talk, and I didn't take it. That's on me. I won't let you blame yourself for my mistakes—that's what he would have done."

She knew better than to argue with him, so she merely nodded before burying her face in his shoulder again, relishing in the feeling of having his arms back around her, of finally having broken through the walls that had been built between them.

Shouto was lying on his back with her draped over his chest, dancing on the verge of sleep when her voice broke the silence.

"For what it's worth. . . You would make an amazing father."

He didn't reply, but Y/N could feel his hold on her tighten, could hear his breath catching in her throat—and if she really listened closely, she could hear quiet sniffles as she drifted off to sleep, happy again in her husband's arms.

[modellecitizen]

worst day I've had in years

20 years have come and gone since my mother committed suicide.  every year, her birthday comes around on april 20th and I think of her fondly, miss her as much as I can though I have few memories of her that are still clear in my mind, and basically move onto the next day.

not this year, though.

I should preface this with the fact that since my mother died when I was 9, I never daydreamed about her helping me plan my wedding, or meeting my future husband, or seeing our home or the life we'd build together.  these kinds of things don't pop into the mind of an average child, so really, I felt lucky at times that I didn't know what I'd be missing out on.  I felt losing my mother at 9 was better than at 19.  who knows now, maybe I was wrong.

in the months that have gone by since sean's father ray passed away last October, I've realized how lucky the rivard family is to have known him so well, and have had so much time with him.  they do things I simply can't do; they play voicemails from him that he left on their birthdays, they go through pictures on facebook tagged with the whole family in them, they review old social media posts he left for them, etc.  I'm so happy they have these outlets.  I can't imagine what it'd be like if they didn't have a visual way to see and remember him.  they love him so much, and for good reason.  he was an amazing man.

I think what I'm most jealous of is their ability to speak for him in certain moments; to be celebrating a birthday and know in their hearts that he's wherever, with a bag of oreos (his favorite snack) and some champagne (he loved celebrating) cheering the birthday person on and singing along with the family.  they know this of him because it's how he was his whole life. they can speak from experience, because they knew him so well.

I can't do that.  I never realized how little I knew my mother until I see a beautiful family dynamic full of people who know every piece of one another.

I have no idea what our relationship would be like - I have no clue if she'd even be helping me plan my wedding.  maybe she'd hate that, or maybe I wouldn't want anyone's help because I'd still be the total control freak I am today, in real life.  Maybe she'd be forcing me to wear some version of her old wedding gown (she was married in the 80s so that's obviously a no-go!) or maybe she'd be telling me stories from her perspective of her wedding day with my dad.  I have no idea if she'd validate my anxieties, or tell me to grow a pair and enjoy the process.

anyway, when april 20th rolled around last week, all of the above hit me like a ton of bricks.  really shitty, heavy, devastating bricks.  I didn't know what to do with all of my emotions, so I wrote the first 'detailed-ish' facebook post about her I've written.  it was an honest insight to what I thought I was missing, and how it kind of broke me.

I wrote it around 10am at work that day, then proceeded to literally sob quietly at my desk for about 3 hours.  around 1p my girls cindy and emily took me to lunch to try and get some fresh air, distract myself with pho, and get moving around a little bit.  this was so necessary, and I love them for getting me out of my head, even for just 60 minutes.

then I came back to the office around to the sweetest thing; flowers from Katie.  she was one of the first to see the facebook post and gave me a chance to open up about it a little bit, and being the super intuitive mind-twin that she is, she knew a vase of daisies would bring a little light into my day.  it absolutely did, and I'm so thankful for her.

that being said, of course my colleague asked me what the occasion was, and because I'm a shit impulsive liar, even when its in my best interest TO lie, I couldn't.  I burst into tears and just explained it was my late mother's birthday, and that getting married this year without her made it surprisingly difficult.  she then told my manager (they're both women in their late 50s-early 60s) and they proceeded to remind me that they were my work moms and I could come to them with anything I needed.

obviously I cried, and stayed crying until I left work early around 4pm.

got home, sat on the couch, and my god I couldn't remember the last time my eyes hurt so bad.  I was so dehydrated and worn out, who knew crying could really take that much out of you.

my aunt Katie (who basically took over as my mom-figure when I was 10 and never let go, for which i'm SO thankful) asked if I would be up for a phone call that night.  we've been doing weekly/bi-weekly Thursday night calls for the last month or two, talking about wedding planning and anything else in our lives. I originally said probably not, because it had already been a long emotional day, and I knew talking to AK would make it harder because she has always had so much information about the day my mother died, and I've never asked to hear it.  This was the first time I found myself wanting to..

I eventually decided the day couldn't get much harder, so I called.  We talked about a few things, how my post made her feel, how we both missed her.  And then I finally asked what happened the day my mother took her own life.  I'm not going to go into the details because it's not really my experience to share, and it's a little more real than I feel like getting right now.  Nonetheless, it really shed a lot of light on everything for me, and gave me a really great amount of respect for my family, how hard they fought for her, how long they supported her in her attempts to get help, how much they rooted for her, and how they continued to love her when she had no more fight left, and they felt out of options.

My aunt said the most difficult part of 'supporting my mother's decision/to stop opposing it' was that I was only a little kid, and no one asked me.  No one could, a child can't be allowed to have a say in something so heavy; I understand now and honestly, I understood even then.  I knew what my mom was doing on more than a few basic levels, and I remember when my dad came to my grandma's to get me, and tell me she was gone, I already knew.  I was expecting there to be a day where she finally got what she wanted - to leave this life behind. 

I knew none of it was my fault, and still know that.  Depression is a terrible thing that robs beautiful, bright people of their most all-encompassing qualities.  I'd lost my mother years ago, before she ever stopped breathing.  I knew that.

I'll end this with the fact that I'm glad I have the people in my life that I do, I'm so thankful to be marrying into an amazing family to only add to the love in my life, and while I will always wonder what my life would be like if my mom was still here, I have no anger toward anyone. 

I can't harbor any feelings like that, I just can't.  It's no one's fault.