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docockbrainrot · 3 years

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i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFT occasionally, 18+, Female Reader

AO3 link!

Previous Chapter

Chapter 15

bad at love // mayday parade

It rings.

And rings.

Maybe he won't answer, you find yourself hoping, palms feeling clammy and your tummy filling with knots. Maybe he won't-

"It's a little late to be calling, don't you think, Y/N?" Suave and smooth, just like you remember. So much for it all just having been a bad dream.

"You know it's me?" You breathe out, but you shouldn't really be surprised. After all, you're starting to feel more and more like a puppet on a string, the role of marionette passing between Harry and Otto endlessly. Just playing your part for both of them, with so little say in the matter for yourself. You can hear the soft chuckle come from the other end of the receiver and you despise the way he makes you feel so… silly. Immature, ridiculous. Like he's leagues above you and while that may be true, you certainly don't need the reminder.

"Why don't you tell me what it is you need, sweetheart? Trouble in paradise with Dr. Octavius?" He sounds so amused and you wish dearly you could slap the smarmy attitude right out of him.

"I have… it's not like that," you mutter, idly toying with the business card in your fingers, turning it around and tracing the solid, thick edges of it. Must cost a fortune to print these fuckers. "I just… I need to know. Why did you want Otto to think you're trashing his research? Isn't that… like… kind of petty?" You suspect nothing is below Harry Osborn at this point, but it's simply not adding up. Why would he care what Otto's doing? With his own research, no less.

"Mm… let's just say… I have big plans, Y/N. You couldn't possibly understand."

"Naturally. Because I'm just a stupid girl, isn't that right?" You can't help yourself, the words leave your mouth and you immediately wish you could take them back. You won't get anywhere with Harry like that, surely. But he just laughs again. You're rather tired of being on the ass end of his amusement.

"Yes, well, it's a little more complicated than that. I actually think quite… highly of you, Y/N. But you have to see- I can't just go spilling my plans to everyone who asks, now can I?" He sounds almost… genuine. He's tugging on your strings and you stumble right into your cue. Is he baiting you into letting your guard down? You tap the card impatiently against the surface of the counter, looking out of your kitchen window. The sun might have set, but as usual the city is alive with the sparkling glow of highrises and neon lights. People shouting and car horns in the distance. The constant cacophony of life has become a comfort to you, in these last few years.

"Yeah… well…" You aren't sure what to say. This went a lot better in your head. "I-I still want answers. You didn't give me your number just for… for no reason."

There's a moment of quiet from the other line that you aren't expecting. You have to check your phone to make sure he didn't hang up on you. Nope, still there. "Well, you see, Y/N… I have a proposition for you."

There it is.

---

Apparently Harry's "proposition" could only be heard in a very seedy-feeling bar on the other side of town. The people loitering outside look at you like you Don't Belong Here and after .5 seconds of deliberation, you decide you also feel like you Don't Belong Here. You aren't bothered however, as you make your way inside, taking in the scant decor and few individuals at the bar with their backs turned to you. Okay. Well. You check the time on your phone. 9 pm on the dot. Rich people must run on a different clock, you think dryly.

Choosing to find a seat rather than linger by the door lost and awkward, you sidle into a chair at a table towards the back end of the establishment. And wait.

And wait.

And wait a little more.

9:17.

Seriously?! Was this all just some silly little set up to waste your time? You staunchly make the mental decision to leave if he's not here by 9:30. Actually, that kind of sounds like a nice idea. Maybe you'll just leave now. Avoid the entire situation altogether-

"I'm glad you came."

There goes that little glimmer of hope.

"You're late," you say flatly and fix him with the most dower look you can manage. Harry Osborn is not intimidated by the likes of you and simply grins in response.

"My sincerest apologies. I am a busy man, after all."

You huff, and just barely manage to refrain from blatantly rolling your eyes at the flimsy excuse and what barely passes as an actual apology. "Well. Here I am. Whatever you have to say and apparently couldn't just spit out over the phone, can you get it over with?" He still hasn't sat down and the way he hovers over you makes you feel small; you hate it.

"Please. Let me buy you a drink first. Not everything has to be all business all the time, hmm?" His head is cocked slightly and there's a curious expression on his face that you simply do not trust. Everything about this man sets off alarms you didn't even know you had. What's his deal? You can't pinpoint it, you only know that something is assuredly wrong with him.

"... Sure. Whatever," you give in with a flippant wave of your hand. You tell him your favorite go-to drink and watch as his eyebrows raise. Is he surprised? Impressed? Is he going to laugh at you? To your satisfaction, he says nothing and taps the table before moseying over to the bar. You watch him like a hawk. Would he be the type to slip something in your drink? Well… you wouldn't put it past him. You don't trust him even a small amount. But you know you can't do this alone, it's the only reason you're even here.

When Harry comes back and sets your glass in front of you, he actually takes a seat across the table. He sips his own drink before placing it neatly on a napkin coaster. You think it might be whisky or scotch but it's hard to tell for sure and you don't care enough to ask. "Do you know why I asked you to meet me here?" He speaks finally and you answer him with an unamused scowl.

"No, I don't, except that you apparently like to play games," you hope you manage to sound as exasperated as you feel, sliding your drink closer to yourself so you can take a very cautious taste. Hmm. Well, it's perfect. You'll give the bartender that. You try not to think about the last time you were in a situation like this. When Otto brought you a drink. When he asked for your help. The parallels are unsettling and you force yourself to stare down into your glass, too uneasy to meet Harry's gaze that continuously bores through you. Jesus, has anyone told this guy that he is seriously off-putting? Unnaturally so.

"I wouldn't say that. This is a safe location- whatever happens here stays within these four walls," he gestures to refer to the building. You don't like the implications of that. "Don't worry," he adds, as if he can read your concerns in your mind (maybe he can, who knows at this point- wouldn't shock you), "it isn't a threat. I just don't trust those pesky phones, you see? Anyone… I mean anyone with two brain cells to rub together can tap one of those things."

"Okay… go on."

"I would like you to work for me, Y/N."

This has to be the longest running gag and you're the butt of the joke, right? You shift uncomfortably in your seat, glancing over at him. Harry looks entirely genuine, his countenance is serious and if you didn't know any better, you'd think this to be an honest to God job offer. But you do know better. A lot better. "I already worked for you. I got fired," you say blithely, forcing a quick mocking smile before it melts away again and you take a big gulp of your drink.

"No, no, no… I don't mean Oscorp. I want you to work for me," Harry clarifies and you decide you actually like that idea less.

"You must be joking," you can't help yourself. It just comes out before you can stop it. Luckily, he just laughs, in spite of the no doubt sour look on your face.

"I'm quite serious. I can assure you it won't be anything as exciting as espionage or breaking and entering, but I have a few things I would… benefit greatly from having you do," Harry sounds like he's explaining himself, but it really comes off as more of a jab- and you especially don't want to know exactly what "things" he would "benefit" from you. It sounds creepy. And unpleasant. And- "Of course, I will pay you handsomely. Much more than a petty thief would be able to reward, in any case." Okay, you're listening. You'll unpack the whole morally dubious 'crimes for cash' thing you've been roped into later. For now, you are very much unemployed and very much only have enough of Otto's stolen bank money to pay another month of rent, not to mention other bills. And food. Food is ideal.

"So what exactly… would I be doing?" You venture to ask.

"A little of this… a little of that," Harry must notice the absolute look of incredulous disgust on your face because he doesn't just chuckle he really, truly laughs. "Oh for God's sake, sweetheart, stop looking at me like that. It isn't that kind of job. Do you really think so lowly of me?" He's hiding his grin in his glass of amber alcohol and you sputter over your next words.

"W-well, what am I- shit, what am I supposed to think, with you being all- all weird and ominous about it!"

"Errands. Alright? I just need someone to do some… errands. Every once in a while. Someone who can keep their mouth shut, hm? Can you do that?"

"Uh…" You take a moment to ruminate on it. It can't be any more dangerous than the scheme you ran with Otto, right? And you really could use the money… "What if I say no?"

Harry shrugs. "Then you're free to go," he waves his hand towards the door, leaning back in his seat. You can tell from looking at him that he doesn't expect you to leave.

He's got you, hook, line, and sinker. And he damn well knows it. "... Okay. Fine. I'm in." Why do you suspect you're going to live to regret this decision?

---

When you finally get home, it's late. Much later than you're typically used to staying out these days, and you haul yourself into the shower to wash off the bar stink and Harry's cologne that you feel clings to your clothes, your skin, your hair. You have to admit, there's something frighteningly intriguing about him. But he scares you to the core in a way that Otto never has. Would he let you back out after giving your word? You sigh as you let the water stream over your back and shoulders. Harry didn't have much else to tell you. He wants you deliver an envelope that he left in your possession. To an address that you aren't even sure of its location. Jeeze… another mess you got yourself into. It's silly. Surely he can just send private emails or packages or whatever on his own, right? You aren't sure… it doesn't add up. None of it does, and there's been a lot.

Oh well. Guess it can't be helped now. You turn off the water as it starts to run cold.

---

Clean and wrapped up in very comfy pajamas, you make a quick round of the apartment, turning off lights and checking the locks of the windows. You get to your bedroom and your hands hesitate over the latches of the final window. They're already snapped into place. But you slowly reach out and unlock them.

Just in case.

#doc ock x reader #otto octavius x reader #otto octavius #doc ock #fanfiction #yall i been havin a time of it lately #more otto next chapter i promise

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chosonore · 3 years

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part two | yearning

yearning [noun. a strong feeling of wishing for something, especially something that you cannot have or get easily]

pairing: kamo noritoshi/f!reader

summary: your relationship with noritoshi was like a game of cat and mouse; no matter how hard you tried to escape from him, he would always find his way back to you.

wordcount: 8.2k

content/warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, language, somewhat suggestive, noritoshi is kind of a dick but i promise it gets better so please don’t lose faith in him, we’re somewhat following the timeline of the anime/manga so spoilers ahead!! but what follows afterwards is purely pulled out of my ass lol, lowercase intended [UNEDITED]

a/n: hello, here i am again with a super long chapter ( ˙꒳˙ ) it is so incredibly messy and i’m so sorry if it gets confusing for you; this just really shows how sporadic my writing process is, i have some guidelines that i follow but sometimes venture off my path when i suddenly get a new idea. nevertheless, i hope you can somewhat enjoy this chapter. feedback or just your thoughts are much appreciated! for those that are waiting for the ~steamy~ content, it is coming next chapter hehe. as always, stay safe everyone (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

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"noritoshi, could you just stay quiet today? i'm really not in the mood," you sighed as you entered the training grounds. the exhaustion from the mission the day before was clinging onto your bones, heavy and admonishingly. the normally exciting sparring lessons seemed dreadful, knowing that all students were to practice today. to practice the balance within the team, utahime had claimed the week prior as she was reprimanding your lack of discipline when it came to noritoshi. stubbornness ran in the family; you refused to back down when someone was hurting your pride. said stubbornness came back to bite you - instead of taking a break to fully recover, you claimed that you would be fine with the help of your reverse curse techniques.

as the days came and went, the yearly tournament slowly approached. after the devastating defeat last year, everyone was on edge and determined to beat tokyo tech. well, that excluded todo, he was just looking for stronger opponents it seemed. noritoshi, on other hand, appeared to be more agitated than usual - if he wasn't barking orders at the other students, he would criticize their fighting styles. you knew he wanted to win the tournament at all costs, to prove himself worthy of the position as the kamo clan head. but he was too rigid about it, rarely accepting help and haughty when questioned. you've been avoiding him as best as you could and of all days, today had to be one where you could not. opponents would be swapped every ten minutes so everyone could practice with another student - facing noritoshi for ten minutes was easy. so you thought.

"can't promise anything, princess," noritoshi retorted smugly and pat your head like he usually did when he was trying to get a reaction out of you. life always found a way to prove you wrong. for some reason, noritoshi had made it his goal to get under your skin as much as possible on this particular day and it worked. it was childish to engage in this banter but you couldn’t help it. the feeling of not being taken serious by noritoshi had always bothered you. it almost seemed like he wasn’t considering you equal to him, always looking down on you. being stressed wasn’t good, your mother had always reminded you, so it was best to remain calm and collected.

stay calm and collected, calm and collected, you repeated in your head. gritting your teeth, you slapped his hand away and jogged away from him towards todo. at least he'd leave you alone while you were near todo - probably to avoid todo getting mad at him and not wanting to hear about takada-chan again. he was the ultimate and fool-proof shield. the taller male was walking at a leisurely pace in front of you, leading the group as per usual. you caught up to him, slowing down so it didn't look like you just jogged all the way here. away from the menace that was noritoshi. todo glanced at you suspiciously before subtly turning around. a guilty groan left your lips. of course he knew, he always knew. as the unlikely friendship was blossoming between the two of you, you rapidly realized that todo was far more perceptive than he would ever let on. even though he took lighthearted jabs at you, he didn't care enough to intervene; it was a mutual understanding. in a way, you appreciated that he treated you like everyone else, not once had he tried to approach you about your deteriorating relationship with noritoshi.

upon seeing the unlikely pair, miwa speed up as well to join them. even though todo scared her to no end, your presence eased her nerves a little. after all, you weren’t scared to put him back in his place when he was being dramatic. she nudged you gently in greeting, nervously clasping her sword in front of her. "do you think we'll win this year's competition? we've been training a lot, so i hope i can show off some of my skills."

"never say never? even if we lose, it's a good experience to learn from," you replied wryly. while the students of the kyoto tech were strong and coordinated well with each other, noritoshi and you could easily destroy the balance. he didn't know when to stop, persistently pushing your boundaries and you fell for his tricks every time. as long as you could work out a strategy that involved working alone or with a partner that was not him, you'd be fine. your safest bet was to work with miwa since you were both sword users and have practiced together extensively. if noritoshi and you exhibited enough chaos to tear the world apart, miwa and you represented the perfect balance when fighting.

"you're our secret weapon though!" miwa exclaimed excitedly, elbowing you gently. "no one knows you can heal, so we'll use that to our advantage."

"uh…"

"what? don't tell me you-"

"i've asked yuta about advice before," you interrupted her, scratching your head sheepishly. "he's one of the very few people who can use reverse cursed techniques, so i asked him to give me some pointers and how to use it more to my advantage."

when yuta participated in the competition the year before, you were absolutely mesmerized by his level of skills and how he had supposedly mastered them in such a short amount of time. of course you hadn't told anyone that you were talking to him - everyone was still salty about the defeat and would, undoubtedly, have crucified you on sight. truthfully, you didn't understand why everyone was so hellbent about hating the students of your sister school. weren't you all colleagues in a sense? yuta was nice and respectful towards you, always trying his best to explain you how to implement his tips. along the way, you might have developed a tiny, fleeting crush on him but never acted on it. it was only a crush after all and you didn’t feel certain about it not being a mere distraction from your feelings for noritoshi. perhaps it was the way he made you feel, the way he treated you like noritoshi used to before. you couldn't even deny it, you missed your old 'toshi. when you looked at him now, it hurt you, seeing all the traces of gentleness having left him.

"really? you never told me! what is he like? he looked like he was really nice but there were moments where i was really scared of him. well maybe not him but rather… that curse."

"uh, yuta is actually not that scary. he's really helpful and always there for you when you need advice. i think i've improved a lot since we've started talking." you made a mental note to thank yuta again if you got to see each other anytime soon. apparently, gojo had sent him on a mission overseas a few months back and ever since, your exchanged messages grew to be rather sporadic. still, you appreciated that he made an effort to text you every now and then to let you know how he was doing and in turn, also asked about your wellbeing.

"fraternizing with the enemy, i see," noritoshi's voice rang out beside you, dangerously close to your ear. it made you jump in surprise, not having sensed him earlier - your hand automatically shot out to hit him, only for him to catch it in time. you shot him an annoyed glare. beside you, miwa and todo glanced at each other, silently agreeing to ignore the squarreling pair.

"i don't see how that's any of your business."

"it is if it jeopardizes our chance at winning," noritoshi narrowed eyes at you in suspicion. of course he didn't trust you, you were nothing but a mild inconvenience to him. you didn't owe him an explanation, not today and not in the future. any friendship or friendliness between you was long gone. refusing to look into his eyes, you attempted to tug your hand away from him but instead accomplished the exact opposite as noritosh tightened his grip. "what did you tell him?"

"he only helped me with training, that's all! it doesn't concern you anyways so-"

noritoshi was irritated, you could tell. the anger was rolling off him in waves, intimidating even you. why was he so annoyed by the fact that you asked yuta for advice? it wasn't even farfetched - the only other alternatives were gojo and ieiri, both of which you hadn't mustered up the courage to ask yet. wasn't it in everyone's best interest for you to become a great healer? noritoshi would know best - he was the driving force behind your ambition, the sole reason why you worked to the brink of exhaustion just to show him that you didn’t need his help, that you were worthy of a higher rank.

"i don't want you to hang out with the tokyo tech kids, especially not with him."

"wait, what?" you gaped at him in disbelief. "is this just because you have personal beef with some of them? leave me out of this, i just want to improve and you don't get to tell me what to do." with that you shoved the taller male, stomping past the other students towards utahime who was looking at you in disapproval. you missed the upset frown on noritoshi's face as he followed you, wanting to reach out but stopping midway. it wasn't the right time or place to let you know why he didn't want you around them, not yet. seeing you hang out and being relaxed with everyone else but him hurt him, oh how it hurt him. he wanted you close to him, only see him, talk about him excitedly and with stars in your eyes like you did when you talked about yuta. and yet, he couldn't let you know. the only way to keep you orbiting around him was to play these silly games, rile you up and drawing a reaction out of you. it was the only way to make you pay attention to him. and so he did.

calm and collected, my ass, you thought two hours later. of course todo and noritoshi had completely eviscerated the rest of the students with no mercy, leaving everyone in a sour mood. whatever strategy your team would have for the tournament was probably thrown out the window, the two of them would take care of it anyways. not that they would stand a chance against yuta.

“yuta isn’t here?” the disappointment in your voice was palpable. you did look forward to meeting yuta again, thinking that he might have come home from his overseas trip for the tournament. but you supposed getting to know the other students wasn’t too bad, you were interested in the first years and their skills. they certainly looked more approachable than your classmates. miwa told you how todo and mai had met two of them a few weeks prior and promptly started a senseless fight that was then stopped by the second years. it landed them in the water as utahime gave them a lecture - while she didn't tolerate the childish behaviour, everyone else seemed to turn a blind eye to it. noritoshi had scoffed in disapproval upon hearing the news, uttering something about not wanting to associate with dimwits like them.

"nope, he's still overseas. it doesn't matter anyways, we'll still beat you without him," maki replied with a confident grin, arms crossed as she took in the kyoto tech group of students. regardless, you broke out in a sprint and jumped, engulfing her in a warm hug. while you two didn't talk as much as yuta and you did, you were still friends. she was a source of inspiration to you, a master of all kinds of weapons whom you deeply admired. maki gave you some awkward pats before pulling away to introduce you to the first years - megumi, yuji and nobara. the younger students were wary of you, most likely because of their encounter with todo and mai. you couldn't hold it against them, their intensity and stubbornness was something you had to deal with daily after all. you silently cursed the two brash students before taking a deep breath and extending your hand to the ones in front of you.

“hi, i’m y/n, nice to meet you,” you introduced yourself with a friendly smile, visibly relieved when they shook your hand and introduced themselves. especially nobara seemed to be eager to get to know you, fussing over your uniform and inquiring about your skills. you were glad they welcomed you, not wanting to cause any more trouble than would undoubtedly arise for the duration of the tournament. while megumi seemed to be cautious and more reserved around you, yuuji and nobara already treated you like their friend. subconsciously, you envied them for the wholesome friendship dynamic as it reminded you of what you used to have with noritoshi. the fleeting thoughts left as soon as they made an appearance in your head, disappearing when nobara grasped your hand and pulled you towards the buildings to show you around. unbothered by the reactions of your fellow kyoto tech classmates, you followed her - their energy was stifling and the tournament didn't start until later in the day anyways. it was useless to stay with your group and practice, you'd only overexert yourself.

“y/n.” noritoshi called after you sternly, glaring at you when you turned to look at him - ever since stepping foot into the estate, he was moody and more serious than usual. it was probably him being tense about the tournament, the spirit to win deeply ingrained in his bones. none of the other students seemed to be bothered by the presence of the tokyo tech students, so why should he? ignoring him, you continued your journey until you felt a force harshly pulling you back by the fabric of your hoodie. intuitively, you could tell it was noritoshi.

"noritoshi, let me go," you snapped at him irritated, struggling to free yourself from his grasp.

"we have things to discuss, did you forget that?"

"i don't want to," like a petulant child, you gave him an angry look as you stood your ground. tension filled the space between you, tethering on the edge of anger. why was a normal conversation never possible with him? and why did he treat you like a child? you let up when megumi appeared to your side, shooting noritoshi a warning glance as he attempted to remove his hand from yours. even though he didn't know what your relationship was like, he stepped in regardless - you were impressed by him. even if noritoshi remained calm, he was a menace to deal with afterwards.

"she said no, didn't you hear-"

"get your hands off of her." noritoshi growled at megumi, the sudden influx of cursed energy that was surrounding him made all students in close proximity freeze. you couldn't hide you shock either, he had never been this threatening towards someone else. he might push boundaries to the extreme, knowing that he could away with it due to his bloodline and family name but he had never outright threatened anyone that didn't do his bidding. with those words he pulled you towards him, wrapping his arm around your waist protectively. paralyzed, you blankly stared at him. his cursed energy was suffocating you, never had you experienced this amount of pressure. not only that, the unusual closeness set your heart ablaze, burning down the walls that you'd carefully constructed around it.

"you're being ridiculous," megumi challenged the older male, unbothered by the strong pressure. he didn't understand why noritoshi was making a big deal out of this. surely he didn't consider megumi a threat? noritoshi's hold on you strengthened and with panic you realized the blood-red markings appearing on his face, he was being serious, oh god he was going to rip megumi apart-

"hey hey, stop it you two," panda's voice snapped you out of your trance and seemingly noritoshi's as well as he wacked his arm. "you just got here and you're already stirring up trouble, are you not ashamed?"

noritoshi simply scoffed and let you go, his cursed energy dissipating with the movement. the rest of the students were as stunned as you were, no one daring to make another move until the tension evaporated. todo was the only one who looked rather annoyed, smacking the back of noritoshi’s head as he started to tell him off - noritoshi, however, kept walking past him towards the dorms that they were staying at for the week. it was almost like there was steam coming off his head as a result of holding his anger in. nobara gaped at you in surprise, pointing at you accusingly. “i didn’t know that was your boyfriend!”

you spluttered in horror, quickly reaching out to her to try and cover her mouth so she wouldn’t say anything incriminating. “n- no you got it wrong! we’re not together, not at all! i hate noritoshi,” you floundered, hastily trying to set the record straight. nobara didn’t look like she believed you, pushing your hands away while giggling. she wiggled her eyebrows at you, whispering at you about how lucky you were to snag such a handsome guy although she thought that he really didn’t have to overreact like that because megumi was harmless. covering your face in embarrassment, you turned away from her and caught a glimpse of an amused todo winking at you.

“i’m serious, nobara!" whatever whining you did, the two of them didn’t let up, making you wonder what you ever did wrong to deserve this scrutiny. as your last resort you grabbed nobara's hand, dragging her along towards a secluded area in the estate. being the subject of the earlier conflict was already troubling enough, you didn't want the other students to get the wrong idea by her wild speculations. nobara was still giggling when you arrived, pinching your arm playfully.

“c’mon, it’s impossible that there is not something between you! did you see the look on his face? i don’t think he would have cared had it been any other person,” she gushed excitedly, her face lighting up in glee. with no doubt, nobara enjoyed poking her nose in other people's business, seemingly having a knack for sniffing out the hidden. a dejected sigh left your lip. a younger you would have jumped in happiness after finally receiving noritoshi's attention but the present you knew better. there wasn't more to it, you told yourself and yet, a tiny sliver of doubt made its way into your mind. could he really have been so bothered by another male being so close to you? todo didn't count, obviously.

"no, there's nothing to it, i promise. we don't have the best relationship anymore and mostly fight. i mean yeah his reaction was really uncharacteristic but…"

"anymore?"

"noritoshi and me grew up together and were childhood friends. i- i didn't agree with his antics as we grew up and we drifted apart after that and now… hate each other? he’s just unbearable and we don’t get along. everyone at kyoto tech knows that so they’re mostly ignoring our fights. and it’s childish, i know, i know..."

“are you sure? like super duper sure? because it didn’t look like it to me,” nobara contemplatively rubbed her chin. the wheels were turning in her head, something didn’t quite add up. even at first glance, whatever you said made her feel doubtful.

“trust me, i wish it was different too. i mean i used to like him a lot and it makes me sad and i wish we could at least be civil around each other. but he just makes me so angry,” your ramblings stopped nobara’s thinking - so that’s what it was. normally, nobara really didn’t care about other people’s business but this was too juicy to pass up. how far could she push it to make you realize?

why was the layout of all these buildings so confusing? and why were there so many buildings to begin with? you’ve been wandering around for at least five minutes now and you still couldn’t figure out where the hell yuji’s and megumi’s rooms were supposed to be. they didn’t even have any signs around. at this point, it didn’t matter if it took longer than anticipated - the others could wait. nobara had insisted on having a small get together the night before, to get to know each other and play some card games. you couldn’t refuse, it’s been a while since you just hung out with friends without any quarreling. there was no harm in getting to know you future colleagues, even though your classmates were treating them like criminals. so instead of going herself and much to your dismay, nobara had sent you to fetch the other two students, claiming that you would be fine if you just stuck to the measly sketch she’d made for you. most of the rooms you’ve already knocked at remained empty so you couldn’t be far from their rooms, you concluded.

stopping in front of the last remaining door of the corridor, you took a deep breath. this had to be one of their rooms. slowly, you raised your hand to knock at the door when it was suddenly yanked open, startling you in the process and making you drop the piece of paper you were holding. what you weren’t expecting was coming face to face with noritoshi who looked at you as equally confused. he was the last person you wanted to see today, not wanting to confront him about his actions earlier. you couldn’t wrap your head around it; why had he overreacted in such a way? it wasn’t like you were in danger or in need of protection. for a brief moment, you thought that there was a sliver of strange possessiveness. you couldn’t quite place the emotions in his eyes, it made you shudder.

“oh uh, sorry. i was looking for yuji and megumi and this is very obviously not one of their rooms. sorry again. i’ll take my leave,” you awkwardly stammered, taking a step back. noritoshi’s figure was towering over you and in a rare moment, you felt intimidated by him. perhaps it was the dark look in his eyes that told you that he was not thrilled by what you just told him. before you could react, he swiftly grabbed your arm and pulled you inside his room, trapping you against the door.

“w- wait!” you protested weakly, pushing at his chest until his face slowly came into your vision. you couldn’t help but stare at his lips, watching them move as he was talking to you. your ears were ringing, you couldn’t tell what he was saying. the close proximity was suffocating and yet you craved more, not wanting to let him go.

“y/n? did you hear me?”

“huh?” snapping out of your trance, you looked at him dumbfounded. noritoshi was frowning at you, slightly concerned about your state as you didn’t answer him. just then you finally got a proper look at him. it was a rare sight; noritoshi wearing casual clothes, a simple oversized shirt and shorts, and his hair down without the bindings. feeling nostalgic, your heart clenched. he looked like his old self, the ‘toshi that you loved dearly.

“i said, i don’t want you around them. i don’t- i don’t like seeing you with them,” noritoshi repeated with a strained voice. he placed his hands beside your head, inching closer to you.

“what- noritoshi, you don’t get to tell me who i can hang out with! last time i checked, we’re not even friends anymore so where do you get the idea that you can do this? what’s the big deal ab-” you didn’t get to finish your sentence when he pressed his lips against yours clumsily. you seized up in shock, not returning the kiss as a whirlwind of thoughts entered your mind. holy shit, he was really kissing you. but you hated each other, so why? why, why, why. when you didn’t respond, noritoshi pulled away in panic, spluttering apologies as he moved away from you. your emotional world was in chaos, all the buried and forgotten feelings for him breaking the dams and flooding your senses until the yearning became too much. you were reminded of the conversation you had with your mother years ago - you still wanted him, missed him. you wanted him by your side. desperately, you reached out, fisting the fabric of his shirt as you leaned up to kiss him. noritoshi caught you in his arms, wrapping them around you as he fervently returned the kiss. he was holding you like he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air, frantically pulling you in. his hands were roaming, discovering the expanse of your body.

his touches left you feeling delirious, high on pleasure. a mewl left your lips, pleading him for something, for more. your hands moved higher, feeling his chest and broad shoulders before you wrapped your arms around his neck. his name left your lips in breathy sighs as he peppered kisses down your jaw, pulling the collar of your shirt to the side to gain more access to the expanse of your neck. suddenly, you were hoisted up and pressed against the door as noritoshi held you by your thighs. you struggled to wrap your legs around his waist, to distracted by his relentless ministrations. by the time he's left multiple hickeys on your neck, you were whimpering mess. noritoshi's breath was taken away at the sight of you in his arms, lips swollen from the kisses, the glossy eyes, dishevelled hair and the hickeys that were slowly becoming more visible. he couldn't understand how carelessly you were letting him proceed when you supposedly harboured a strong dislike for him. nevertheless, he enjoyed it and wanted to savour the moment, ingrain it into his memory so he'd never forget why he was treating you like a nuisance.

a loud knock resounded from the door, followed by someone shouting: "noritoshi? has y/n been here?"

out of sheer shock, you shoved noritoshi away from you and nearly fell as you attempted to detangle yourself from him. he caught you in time, signalling you to stay quiet as the person outside was still shuffling around nervously. you slumped against him limply, letting your head rest against his chest. his heart was beating erratically. it made yours fill with pride as you could tell that you had the same effect on him as he did on you. still, the precarious situation suddenly dawned on you - you'd just made out with your sworn enemy and, yes you used to have a crush on him, enjoyed it very much. and by the looks of it, he would have continued if you hadn't pushed him away. the entire ordeal greatly confused you; was noritoshi just playing around with you? it couldn't be, he had initiated it after all. the cold treatment he usually gave you didn't match with his actions just now. you couldn't get close to him, not when he gave you mixed signals. you wanted someone who cherished you and was always sincere so you wouldn't have to second guess their actions.

"huh, i guess noritoshi's already sleeping. we'll have to check somewhere else, i hope she didn't get lost," the person outside mumbled as you stayed silent. the sound of shuffling was heard, then steps away from the room. you stayed put until you were sure they were gone and gently removed yourself from noritoshi's grip, not looking him in the eyes. he didn’t move, letting you go willingly.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know what came over me,” you apologized with a pained voice. “please forget that it ever happened and uhm, please don’t tell anyone.”

noritoshi’s eyes widened at your pleas, moving to stop you from leaving so he could explain himself to you. “y/n, wait, i can ex-”

hastily, you stumbled to open the door, dashing away from him until the building was out of your sight. you poorly hid behind a tree, sinking to your knees as you buried your face in your hands. what the hell. you just made out with your childhood friend turned enemy. your buried feelings were all over the place and your mind just couldn’t stay still. it messed with your outlook as well as your image of noritoshi, distorting and twisting it until you had to rethink your relationship. maybe all this time, you subconsciously hoped that he would return back to his old self and somehow give you an explanation. never having received closure on the end of your friendship, you would even forgive him for the sake of your relationship. were you this shallow? no, you simply harboured a lot of feelings for him. you weren’t able to tell what his thought process was - was he even interested in you? did he see you like that?

“there you are,” you lifted your head to see gojo walking towards you with his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his pants. you almost didn’t recognize him as he simply wore a pair of sunglasses and let his hair down. “the others are looking for you. what are you doing out here? trouble in paradise?”

“n-no! i just needed some time away from everyone to- to catch my breath,” you exclaimed indignantly and perhaps too hastily you realized when gojo smirked at you knowingly. why did everyone assume that there was anything between noritoshi and you? was it that obvious?

“uh huh. that’s not what your neck says,” gojo pointed out while wiggling his eyebrows and offered you a hand to stand up. “he really doesn’t like any competition.”

“fuck,” you cursed quietly, covering the hickeys with one hand while taking gojo’s with your other and pulling yourself up. it was embarrassing enough to meet one of the teachers like this but it was even more embarrassing to know that your teacher had seen the aftermath of your makeout session.

“i’m not gonna tell anyone, if that’s what you’re concerned about. although it would certainly be funny to tease little noritoshi,” gojo was giggling and you knew he was greatly amused by the entire situation. it almost reminded you of nobara. you groaned in frustration as you trailed behind him towards the girls’ dorms. you needed to hide your neck so no one would question it or grill you until you confessed; the potential embarrassment was mortifying.

your group strategy was already falling apart when todo suddenly disappeared in the depths of the forest, not caring about your teamwork in the slightest. normally, it would frustrate you a lot more if you weren’t already preoccupied with your own troubles. todo would be fine anyways, the remaining group members could work on a strategy on their own. as mechamaru and mai were discussing, you shot a glance at noritoshi. he looked as deadpan as usual, probably not listening to the discussion as he worked better on his own and it was more or less decided that mechamaru and him would be moving on their own while the others would team up. otherwise, you couldn’t tell whether he was bothered by what had transpired between you the night before. on the contrary, he looked calm and composed, probably more focused on his goal than anything else. and for some reason it bothered you.

when you’d returned to nobara’s room last night, gojo had helped you make up an excuse. while dramatically gesturing around, he’d told them that he intercepted her journey towards the boys’ dorms to recruit you for training, claiming that he wanted to teach you more about reverse cursed techniques. although he saved you from scrutiny and embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel like he might use it as leverage in the future. it was gojo after all, he was unpredictable. absentmindedly, you agreed to whatever plan the others had schemed and grabbed your sword, getting ready to move to your assigned position with miwa. while you had heard of the other students’ skills, you weren’t sure where to place their levels as there was always room for surprises. underestimating opponents was a beginner's mistake. the bell rang out, signaling the start of the tournament; with swift movements, the group members dispersed and slowly moved towards the "enemy".

in the distance, you could already hear loud explosions - it was probably mechamaru happily blasting away his opponents. you gritted your teeth in annoyance, the blasts were too loud for you to make out anyone approaching you. and as you predicted, someone was taking advantage of the noise to stalk up on you. barely being able to block the blow with your sword, you found yourself opposite of maki who was grinning at you. the challenging glint in her eyes told you that she wasn't going to go easy on you but you welcomed it. it was a good opportunity for you to grow and hone your sword wielding skills.

however, it proved to be more difficult to defeat maki than you'd originally anticipated. in mere minutes, maki had already disarmed miwa, leaving her defenseless and you were hanging on a bare thread. your grip on the sword was weakening, laboured breath making your ears ring. it was frustrating, knowing that after all those months of rigorous practice, you still couldn't win a fight. giving up wasn't an option, at the very least you had to give it your all.

"c'mon, you can do better than this!" maki teased you as you ducked away from the swipe of her spear. it missed you by a hair's width and left you scrambling to create more distance between you so you could heal yourself. maki's relentless hits didn't give you any rooms for it - you really had to learn how to constantly apply it to yourself without losing time. from the corner of your eyes, you could see that miwa had picked up the phone. she was probably calling for help, you thought and dished out another hit towards maki which she skillfully dodged. instead, she delivered another blow to your legs, making your knees buckle from the force. you used your sword to support you and took another breath before you tried to lunge at her. in the distance, miwa suddenly collapsed, making you stop mid-move and took another hit from maki that took all the air in your lungs.

"eyes on your opponent, y/n. you know better than to get distracted in a fight, you could've been killed in a real fight," maki reprimanded you as you coughed heavily, gasping for air as you slowly got back up. you were unsteady on your feet, not having enough energy to even heal yourself. conflicted by whether you should face maki again or help miwa, your eyes were flitting between them. maki took advantage of your uncertainty, dealing another blow to you that knocked the sword out of your hand. as your last resort, you kicked at her feet, trying to get her to fall, only to have her pin you to the ground.

"you're going to have to practice a lot more to beat me in the future," she sighed, picking up your sword. panic welled up in your chest - the sword was the only way you could possibly somewhat win this fight but even subconsciously you knew that it was over. reaching out for the sword in desperation, your vision was clouded with tears. it was frustrating, so so frustrating. why couldn't you be as talented as her? or have fast reflexes like noritoshi? why were you ordinary, not being able to make any progress no matter how hard you try?

"i know but i can't give up now!" you defiantly retorted, pushing at her with all might. "i have to win, i just have to show my skills for once and prove myself, i- i-"

even maki softened up at your heart wrenching sobs, easing up on her grip. you both knew it was over. you were probably already eliminated from the tournament, with no other possibility to redeem yourself. she knew that you tried your best and never once underestimated her but something irked her. it was your motivation, your driving force.

"y/n, there's no shame in losing. that's how you grow, make mistakes and learn from them. you tried your best, it's not easy to stand against me for so long."

"i know but there's- i'm still not where i need to be! look at how much progress the others are making in comparison to me! i've been practicing day and night and still, no one is noticing me. i'm just a measly healer and i-"

"y/n." maki cut you off sternly. "is this your motivation? proving yourself to others? you'll not be able to improve if you keep fighting for others. you need to start working on yourself, for yourself. you don't owe anyone anything. but you have to realize that trying to satisfy other people's needs will only make you unhappy and hinder your growth."

"i'm unhappy with my skills! i keep telling myself that it's okay, that i have a rare cursed technique but sometimes i just wish i had a flashy technique or be as strong as you. i don't want to be looked at as if i need protection, i don't want it! i just-" you hiccuped, sniffling again as you wiped your tears with the sleeves of your uniform. "i just want someone to acknowledge me, want him to accept me as an equal…"

"who?" maki's cold look made you freeze in your movements. you didn't mean to let that slip. no one needed to know that the entire time, you were vying for noritoshi's attention. but she was right; there was no point in giving it your all if it wasn't for yourself. it was a silly, childish dream of yours to be equal with him again. he was far out of reach and you couldn't catch up to him.

"n- noritoshi," you admitted in defeat. maki saw right through you, there was no point in lying. she raised her eyebrows at you but didn't question it further. after all, you hadn't told her about the background story. unless nobara had done so, you wouldn't doubt it.

"i'm not gonna ask you why. but this is my advice, do not fight for somebody else. if you relentlessly work on yourself for your own benefit, you'll see progress a lot faster. your technique might not be flashy but it is powerful, remember that. you're a valuable asset to every team," she concluded and pulled you up, awkwardly patting your back as you still sniffled. maki opened her mouth to tell you some comforting words but froze when another extremely loud boom resounded near the entrance of the estate. your eyes widened at the sudden influx of cursed energy - there was no doubt that a high-level curse had just entered the school grounds. you turned to maki to tell her the news but she'd already moved, pointing to miwa.

"take her to a safe place, you can't stay here! in your state, you wouldn't last against such a strong curse," maki yelled at you as she disappeared in the woods. you scrambled frantically, not wanting to be left behind. while you were useless for the tournament, you could at least still be of assistance against a curse. miwa was still laying on the ground, unmoving. you shook her gently, scared that she was seriously hurt. it seemed like she was just sleeping instead; you were relieved. throwing her across your shoulder, you winced in pain but persisted nonetheless. you had to get her away from here, who knows what curses were roaming around. your senses were flooded with the stench of blood and debris, the pressure of cursed energy, the loud rumbles. you couldn't tell where the others were but you hoped they were safe.

a loud thud startled you and you stopped, ready to draw your sword until realization hit you that it was utahime that was inspecting you. determined, you thrusted miwa's limp body towards utahime.

"miwa will be okay, she's just sleeping! i'm okay too, don't worry, please just take care of her and i'll check on the others!"

"y/n, don't be stupid! you're injured and in no state to help others." utahime attempted to convince you; you shook her off stubbornly, insisting that you were fine.

"what if the others get hurt? i have to help them or at least warn them!" your resolve was firm and unwavering that even utahime couldn't convince you otherwise. slipping out of her grasp, you sprinted towards the source of the cursed energy. from far away you could already see the damage that the curse had caused. multiple buildings were torn apart, trees dislodged and- were those branches rapidly growing out of the ground? you watched in horror as the branches whipped around, following running figures on the rooftop of one of the buildings. upping your speed, you jumped towards the group to aid them. as you neared them, you could make out inumaki, noritoshi, and megumi fighting against the curse, maki trailing close behind.

they barely stood a chance against the curse, every hit that they dealt, the curse would come out unscathed. "what's the deal with that curse?" you asked, panting as you joined them, coming to a halt behind inumaki. megumi was yelling something but you couldn't hear him as noritoshi turned to you and shoved you out of the way.

"y/n, what are you doing here?"

"helping you guys? what the fuck does it look like?" you yelled back exasperated. why was he mad at you in such a situation? they needed any helping hand they could get to defeat the curse. while you weren't useful in fights, you could at least provide continuous healing. noritoshi didn't have any time to reply as the curse lashed out again, dodging it by jumping to the side. you stayed close to inumaki, swiftly healing him when he collapsed from the rebound of his cursed speech. you clenched your jaw, not wanting the others to see that you were slowly running out of energy and strength. next thing you know, a body was hurled through the air, landing near you with a thud. your heart filled with dread when your eyes fell onto the figure, recognizing noritoshi.

"y/n, heal them as best as you can and get out of here! take them to the teachers!" maki yelled out and this time you obeyed, too panicked about noritoshi's state. you were thankful that inumaki had enough energy to run after you'd healed him - hauling noritoshi's tall frame around was already difficult enough but even more so when you were exhausted. as you neared the gates, utahime was already running towards you with a concerned look on her face. you were glad that she was nearby, it meant that gojo and the other teachers were close and could defend you.

"what happened?" utahime worried but you couldn't reply. falling to your knees, you gently laid noritoshi on the ground. the injuries looked bad, there was blood everywhere. you had to stop the wound on his head from bleeding but your trembling hands were preventing you from doing so.

"i- i don't know, i just- i think the curse hit him and now he's unconscious and he's losing so much blood and-"

utahime pinched you firmly, snapping you out of your panic. she was already holding a cloth to noritoshi's temple to stop the bleeding. patting your hand, she told you in a gentle voice: "heal him if you still have enough strength but don't overexert yourself. ieiri will be here soon."

nodding frantically, you placed your trembling hands on his abdomen and let your cursed energy flow. the strength was slowly leaving your body but you had to save him. you had to make sure he was okay, he couldn't die, not like this. regret was bubbling up inside you; what if this was the last time you would ever get to see him?just as you felt his energy responding to yours and saw his hand moving slightly, you couldn't hold yourself upright anymore. the last thing you saw was utahime reaching out to catch you as you collapsed.

you woke up with a startle, gasping for air as you sat up abruptly. sunlight was flooding the room and it felt uncomfortably hot on your skin. you pushed the blanket back but stopped halfway in your movement. your entire body hurt, muscles burning and screaming for more rest. and yet you couldn’t stay still as you remembered the previous events. how long were you out for? was everyone okay? gritting your teeth, you slowly moved out of the room. again, you were faced with the endless maze that was the tokyo tech buildings and stopped in your tracks, not sure which direction to go. you let out a sigh of relief when you spotted yuji in the distance, waving at him to get his attention.

“y/n!” yuji ran towards you, frantically gesturing towards your room. “you’re supposed to be resting! what are you doing here?”

“is everyone okay?” you croaked, now realizing how dry your throat was.

“yeah, ieiri did a good job of healing everyone! some of us are still resting though and so should you.”

“no, i… is noritoshi okay?”

“noritoshi? oh, you mean the guy with the long hair?” yuji nodded, curiously eyeing you as your shoulders dropped, the stress rolling of them. “yeah, he’s still recovering though. ieiri said that his injuries were probably the worst so he’s not allowed to leave the bed.”

“can you take me to him?” you asked with a small voice, doing your best to muster up a puppy face. yuji sighed, scratching his head sheepishly. you could see the conflict in his eyes, that he was thinking about rejecting your request. in the end, he shook his head in defeat and motioned for you to follow him. a small grin found its way onto your lips - yuji was just too nice, he couldn’t say no when people ask him for favours. the walk to noritoshi’s room was silent, neither of you knowing what to say. you knew it was selfish of you not to ask him about his wellbeing more or visit the others but you just had to see for yourself that noritoshi was okay. yuji stopped in front of a door, pointing at it.

“this is his room. he might be sleeping though… my room is down the hall so if you need me to accompany you back to your room, just call me.”

you thanked him quietly and watched as he retreated. taking a deep breath, you knocked at the door and waited for a reply. a few moments passed before noritoshi’s voice rang out, giving you the okay to enter. gingerly, you opened the door and entered the room. noritoshi was sitting on his bed, reading a book as if nothing had happened. you looked at him bewildered. he didn’t look like his injuries fazed him at all. despite the bandages around his head and arms, he remained calm as if nothing hurt.

“noritoshi,” you breathed out, taking a seat on the chair near the bed. he didn’t spare you a look, keeping his eyes on the book. “i uhm. i’m glad you’re okay! when i saw you in that state, i was so so scared that i could lose you… i did my best to heal you, i know i didn’t do much but-”

“i didn’t need your help,” noritoshi snapped at you, placing the book on his lap. “i would’ve been fine without it.”

you were stunned. why was he so agitated? after you initial shock, you huffed in frustration. “what the hell, you could’ve died! i was trying so hard to keep you alive and you react like this? i know you don’t like me but even this is a low blow for you!”

“it wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t inserted yourself into everything! you’re not helping anyone, just dragging us down; everything could’ve gone well if it wasn’t for you standing in the way,” noritoshi countered as frustrated, this time actually looking at you. you stared back at him in disbelief. you saved his life and he had the nerve to shot you down like this.

“does it really hurt your ego to admit that i was actually helpful? we were friends at some point so why do you insist on being such a dick? and here i was, finally thinking that we were getting somewhere- for fuck’s sake, we kissed and-”

“leave.”

you stopped rambling. the tired tone in his voice, the deadpan look on his face; he was serious. you couldn’t believe him. tears welled up in your eyes as you leaped from the chair and hastily exited the room, slamming the door in anger.

you never wanted to see him again.

p.s: yes nobara gave you a wrong sketch of the buildings what about it hehe

taglist: @milkteeboba

#jujutsu kaisen #noritoshi kamo #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi #noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x you #noritoshi x you #kamo noritoshi x you #noritoshi kamo imagines #kamo noritoshi imagines #noritoshi imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #fic: sanguine #writing #i am so sorry for the garbage that you just read

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malibumiu · 3 years

Text

“Running doesn’t matter. I’ll hunt you down if I have to.”

aka Naejunko angst (?) idk this came from yandere prompt list so yea (Warning: Violence, guns)

enjoy!

“I have to keep running… I have to keep running… get up Makoto come on..” It's the mantra that he had to keep telling himself, he was close! Getting so close! To where? He wasn’t sure! But he knew he had to be close, somewhere! Anywhere! From that god forsaken base! He needed to find the others, surely they would be looking for him! That would mean they should be around the area surely with his luck the others would be able to find him or if his luck was being extra nice maybe he’d find them first!

Though a pain throb quick made him hiss in pain, staggering slightly as he took shelter in a half decrepit hotel lobby. Furniture was both turned and unturned glass and debris everywhere, the light from the maroon sky making it look more eerie than it should be. He quickly ducked down behind the receptionist desk, trying to make himself as small as he could manage, he would have gotten under completely but that would be rather hard when you have two arrows in your back. His entire body felt sore and tired, his wounds from his “executions” not having properly healed yet, he was sure a few of them had tore themselves open again already, he just prayed that there wasn’t a blood trail.

“Calm down Makoto..calm down..” he closed his eyes trying to steady his heart beat and control the trembling throughout his body, “Calm down,” another breath, “She probably has forgotten about you by now. Yeah that's it..” another, “ S-She found a new toy to play with, she has gotten over you..just focus on get out alive-”

Static crackles from above him catching his attention, with minimal pain he shot out from under the desk and found a CB radio, perfect! He quickly clamored up the mic and began fiddling with the dial Maybe it was a call for help?! Or Kyoko, or Byakuya-

“Makotoooo baby~ you're heaven sent you know so why are you SO hellbent on being such a bad boy to me~?”

Makoto dropped the mic slowly backing away from the radio..No...she- she couldn’t have! He already pulled the tracker arrow out from his thigh! How could she-?!

The radio let out static crackle, her voice felt closer; it was like he could still feel her on him, her breath, her perfume, her nails, just her.

“Makaroco babybabybaby~! You know I like a bad boy I do! With their cigarette smoke, motorcycles, bad attitude and all, so cooooool right!? But they also reek of insecurities, blood and cowardice. But you aren’t them baby, no.. you're my sweet little darling my little macarena~. OH! You're just so sugary sweet you probably gave me diabetes! That being said..” His mind felt like it was on autopilot at this point, he didn’t even realize that he had got up and started running again, until he landed on the ground with a thud and looked around, finding glass around him, ah he must have jumped out of a window. At least escaped-

“AS I WAS SAYING-“ With a screech of the sound system outside her voice came over again, “That being said Makoto, you have a weakness.. a big weakness baby and it's that you care entirely too much for people.”

He began to run, he didn’t care, he ignored the pain in his back and throbbing pain all over his body, he didn’t care he just needed to run, he needed to stop hearing her.

“Your- no.. OUR friends after all the shit they put you through you still cared for them, in the last trial you got them out of despair, they didn’t deserve it. Earlier you told them to direct all their anger toward me! The mastermind and in the end you couldn’t bring yourself to even fully hate me, you wanted to help me. How could I say no you babe?” “Babe?” he spat, letting out a dark chuckle, he could feel himself slowing down his limp “Yeah sure.”

“You know Makoto there's a lot I’d do for you, you know? It's SO weird honestly I can hardly believe it myself, a lot of things bore me but not you. You somehow keep my mind entertained, you keep me guessing, predicting! Even when we were in school and dating! But one thing was obvious, you were quite the popular guy herbivore. Those bitches would flock all over you! Both the main and reserve course, they were like leeches, those whores...trying to suck all the kindness out of you, probably hoping you’d knock them up with a kid and tie you down, I- i couldn’t have that we were dating after all! I tried to tell to back the fuck off; the main course girls grew their brains and did until valentines time day that is.. anyway those reserve skanks didn’t listen… so let’s just say.. I thought them a lesson? Oh makoto you should have been there. It was delightfully gross! Blood everywhere! Some remainders of guts Oh-! and one bitch even pissed herself it was fucking hilarious Mako!!”

Makoto could only lean against the wall in horror as the fashionista let out howls of laughter, meanwhile he felt even more guilt swelled in his heart. First his classmates and now some girls he doesn’t even know or remember were dead because of him?!

“That little incident cost me a good outfit and shoes but it was allllll worth it for you baby~. I couldn’t have you taken from me, your mine. MINE. I did soooo much for you Makoto! I marked you, loved you hell I even Killed for you! I was even such a loving girlfriend that I brought you to my base where I treated your injuries, gave you good meals, shelter and new friends! And you still leave me! How could you be so cruel Makoto Naegi?! HOW COULD YOU?!”

Said boy cringed at her cries, he couldn’t truly tell if they were actual tears or crocodile tears but even so it made him want to go and comfort her, hold her close and tell her everything was fine, no Junko- Murukro would probably still love you even after all you did-

“But no matter, I still forgive you. You’re just running because you want to be a cheeky little shit dontcha? You wanna play games huh? That’s ok babe, I like this game cat and mouse, prey vs predator, hide and seek? Tag even, games like these are rather fun especially when the mouse is a cute lil boy like you Makoto~ Oh~! I am ready to pounce ya! Rawr :3!”

It was at this point that Makoto felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, he looked around, there was no one around except for those of the dead and from what remained of the taller buildings he could see no one so... why did he feel like he was suddenly being watched? Before he knew it he started running again.

“But you should have already known Babe, running away is pointless because in the end Makoto Naegi I’ll always find you.”

Junko smiled as she clicked off the microphone for a moment to line up her shot. She looked in the scope again to make sure that he was there and he was probably because of the limp in his run, that fall in the pit and the swords did a multitude on him. And though it hurt her poor maiden heart to see him like this, it definitely made it easier for her. Normally this would be Izuru’s job but this time however he was waiting a block away with the car to scoop him up before he bled out to death. She checked the barrel of the sniper rifle once more, the upgrades Izuru did the bullets should disable him for a while. She looked back into the scope, lining up the shot once more, laying her finger gently on the trigger while her other hand reached for the mic. She held it close, her eye watching him like a hawk as she watched his sad effort of a run.

“But please remember that I’m doing this because I love you Makoto.”

She pulled the trigger without hesitation and watched as he fell to the ground, wriggling around on the ground in pain as he cradled his knee in agony. Then the strangest thing happened: he stopped, and he...started to crawl?! What the hell?! Why wasn’t staying put like a good boy?! Nononono this wouldn’t do! She knew he was rather stubborn and (she said so herself) unpredictable but now was not the time for that!

She looked back into the scope to line up and take the shot again. Taking the second shot wasn’t hard, especially since he wasn’t as much of a moving target as the first time. She made to pop his other knee or maybe it was his thigh? She wasn’t too sure but she did know it didn’t hit a non vital area so he should be good and he looked to be down for the count finally.

“Kamukuraaaaaaa~” she sung into walkie talkie that was attach to her coat, “Be a dear and go the little rascal will ya~? Mama can’t have her big catch lying on the street once you get him, be sure to come back around and get me too Kk? Gooooood!”

Clicking off she sighed and began to pack up, she knew Makoto would be fine after all she did make sure not him in non-vitals areas but with these new injuries on top of his probably already reopened previous wounds. He would probably be bedridden for a bit, but that would be fine by her, it would only insure that he’s incapable of leaving-leaving her. He didn’t need his friends, his friends clearly had no trouble discarding him in the 5th trial, so why would they need him now? She needed him, not his hope or anything, just him. His optimism, kindness, comfort, warmth and love that's all she wanted. She would be damned if she let anyone take him from her. Didn’t they know? Junko Enoshima always got what she wants no matter the cost. Even if it required bloodshed.

#naejunko #makoto naegi #junko enoshima #fic #danganronpa #prompts

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probably-writing-x · 4 years

Text

Fix things for you.

Valerio x Reader

Request by anon: valerio angst - him and the reader broke up on bad terms and everyone’s trying to get them back together, ends however you want?? x

Gif is not my own

Requests are open 🤍

Break ups were never easy. As amicable as some of them could be, they were never simple. In fact, you’d always thought of amicable breakups as worse - surely they just left so much room for feelings to just develop again? Maybe. You’d thought that until you’d gone through your own proper breakup, from your first and only proper relationship so far. You’d never been one to care about settling into any sort of couple, more than happy to flirt between people and never really share anything meaningful. Surprisingly, when you found someone who’d acted in the same way, you’d both found a reason to stop that all together. It had been a relaxed relationship, both of you just feeling so comfortable with each other and not having to worry about forcing anything. You weren’t completely wrapped up in each other but enough that you knew where your loyalties lied and that meant more than anything.

It had taken one very specific argument to end that. Silly, really. You’d grown tired of his constant, obsessive, never-ending drug use and partying. Sure, you were no stranger to enjoying yourself when you went out. But he had become increasingly addicted to that aspect of his life and it had started to consume every single one of his days. You’d asked him to change, fearing that he’d end up in the same way your brother had done - addicted beyond any return. When you’d found him smuggling his drugs into your bathroom instead so that you wouldn’t see him taking, things had blown up.

The argument was messy, both of you bringing up issues that shouldn’t have mattered. You’d kicked off about everything and he’d defended himself and insulted you in the process. You’d told him you wouldn’t watch him kill himself like this. And that’s why you couldn’t stay with him. Since then, the two of you had been avoiding each other at all costs. Well, you’d been avoiding him at least. It had taken Valerio a few weeks to realise his wrongs and realise he’d really do anything he could to rectify it. If only it had been that simple from your end.

“What are we talking about over here?” You ask as you sit down in the spare seat around the table next to Guzmán.

Him, Ander, Lu, Carla and Polo all glance at each other like they’re waiting for someone to come out with a response.

“What?” You laugh, “Have I interrupted something?”

“(Y/n), well it’s just...” Polo starts, “Are things seriously over between you and Valerio?”

“Are you kidding?” You scoff, suddenly realising how all of them were looking expectantly for an answer, “You know it’s over.”

“But you worked so well together!” Lu exclaims, “I’ve never seen my brother so happy.”

“Come on guys, I’ve been through this with him and I made it clear that things aren’t going to work if nothing changes,” You explain, looking around at all of them.

“But you two were just... meant to be together!” Guzmán exclaims, surprising you with his outburst, “I might not be his biggest fan but Lu’s right.”

“Look, I’ve said this to him, and I stand by it. He’s not willing to change anything and I’m not willing to back down,” You defend, “Can we please just leave it there?”

“Alright, lets talk about something else,” Carla encourages, “How are the party plans coming along Lu?”

You’re about to settle into the conversation when someone else comes strolling through the door. He’s the one person you try to fight to not look at but your eyes are instantly drawn to. He walks cautiously up to the table in the common room that all of you were crowded around.

“Hey guys,” Valerio starts, grip shifting on the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey man! Here, we’ll make some room,” Ander encourages, starting to shift his chair enough to make room for another.

“No, it’s fine. Take my chair,” You speak up, “I’ll catch you guys later.”

“(Y/n) come on...” Valerio starts with a saddened look in his eyes.

“It’s fine, really,” You roll your eyes, stepping past in just too much time as he reaches out to grab your arm.

“(Y/n) please.”

“It’s not worth it Valerio,” You sigh, pulling your arm away from him as you head out of the room.

You weren’t sure whether you were talking about his attempt to keep you there, or his attempt to keep you at all. Either way, you were right. With the way Valerio had been, he wasn’t worth your time. And you weren’t worth his energy when both of you knew you wouldn’t change your mind.

Valerio takes a seat around the table and drops his head into his hands, raking one hand through his untamed curls.

“Come on, there has to be something you can do,” Lu encourages, “You two can’t just be over.”

“Try telling (Y/n) that,” Valerio scoffs, “What do you expect me to do?”

- - - - - -

The next day, Valerio flops back into the chair around the table and is met with the same faces, this time expecting a lot more than yesterday.

“I called her, like you said,” Valerio begins, “I told her that we needed to talk, and she hung up.”

The group see the hopelessness in his eyes, the jovial nature drained from him and replaced by mourning for the loss of the one person he’d ever truly truly loved.

“It’s hopeless, maybe I just need to give up.”

“Give up? If you love her, the last thing you do is give up,” Guzmán assures him, watching as Nadia passes by the table.

She’s walking alongside you as both boys watch their eyes trail after their separate focuses. He was right, Valerio couldn’t just give up on you. It was his own fault that things had ended with you two, his own actions that had caused your opinions of him to change so rapidly. He couldn’t just give up on that.

- - - - - -

That evening, you’re just about done with this week. Your entire group of friends seemed hellbent on trying to fix your love life, so much so that you couldn’t be certain anymore if it was Valerio that was trying to get you back, or simply their influence. It had become draining already. But there’s still a flutter in your stomach when you hear the sound of tapping at your window. It’s like a pocket of nostalgia locked into such a simple sound. And, just as he had done when you’d been dating, you open the curtains to reveal Valerio on the other side. He always managed to climb onto the roof of your garage so that he could reach your window, on countless occasions.

“Hey,” He says, a little breathless like he’s relieved that you didn’t just leave him out there with no response.

“Hi Valerio,” You smile a little, more as an act of politeness.

“Can I come in?” He asks bashfully, glancing over his shoulder as he was still undeniably fearful of your father basically chasing him off your property.

You nod and open the latch to swing the window open and let him climb through. You still left the windowsill bare as you always did before, learning from your mistakes when he used to knock everything over.

“What’s up Valerio?”

He smiles lightly and wipes his hands on his trousers, “I’m guessing you’ve realised that everyone’s been trying to help me with you.”

You scoff a little, “The walls are pretty thin around school, yeah.”

“I guess I just ran out of ways of trying to get you back- not that I want to get you... not that I ever felt like I got you or ha-“

“Valerio,” You cut in, “I know what you mean.”

“What can I do to prove myself to you (Y/n)?” He drops his arms, “Because I’m trying fucking everything over here.”

“I need to know you mean it. You keep saying that things will change and it will be different if we give things another go but how can I know that?” You sigh, “Theres only so much I can believe without seeing it.”

“Then we’ll have a trial period,” Valerio suggests, “Okay, this was Guzmán’s idea... but he said that we don’t have to start dating again... we could just see how things go.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“And Lu said that I need to start treating you better, so I promise I’ll pay for dinner when we first go out. And Carla said I-“

You laugh gently and it stops him from speaking instantly, “They really want this to happen, dont they?”

“They’d be waiting outside if they could,” He jokes, “I guess they know something we don’t.”

You can hardly resist him when he’s trying this hard. Maybe you could never fully resist him anyway. But when his hands cautiously reach out and hold your waist, his head dipping to bury himself in your embrace, you are certain that you couldn’t say no to him again. This already felt different. The way he held you, the way his breathing slowed as he felt the rise and fall of your chest, every piece of him holding so much more innocence than before.

“I thought you never gave second chances,” He mumbles into your shoulder, a glimmer of typical boyish Valerio shining through - you were glad he was still there somewhat. He, after all, was the boy you’d first fallen in love with.

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ceasarslegion · 4 years

Text

I think, being knee-deep in male puberty right now, I should address my thoughts on the whole “does testosterone make you angry and aggressive?” question.

I think its a flawed question already, because it assumes that emotions can be inherently toxic, negative, or “wrong.” Because you’re not actually asking if testosterone makes people inherently angry, you’re asking if it makes people TOXIC. You’re conflating anger with abusive tendencies, and toxic behaviors, when an emotion like joy has the same potential to be abusive and toxic.

To be frank, T has made me more predispositioned to anger than I was before. I used to be a lot more timid and submissive, and when something went wrong in my life, my first reaction would be depression. Now, I’m more assertive, less afraid to take up space, and when something goes wrong, my first reaction is frustration.

“But Dames,” I hear you ask, “isn’t that a slippery slope?” Well, it depends on the context, because that matters. When I react with rage towards something now, it’s usually when I’m being mistreated in some way, when before, I would be too afraid to do anything but sit there and take it in silence. My anger flares up when it knows I or someone else is being mistreated, when it knows that I or someone else deserves better, and it reacts in a way that demands the dignity and fairness we deserve as a human beings. I don’t think that’s toxic, I think it’s healthy anger. It’s trying to protect me and others from getting screwed over, it’s not trying to be abusive towards others. I never would’ve had the balls to stand up to my dysfunctional family members before, but now, I can straight up tell them “no. I’m not having this discussion, and i refuse to entertain you any longer.” when they’re hellbent on stirring the pot with me. My attitude towards genuinely shitty people has shifted from I’m Not Okay by MCR to Give Up the Grudge by Gob.

My therapist once told me that there’s no such thing as good or bad emotions; they’re all just emotions, and it depends on how they present themselves. Happiness can be toxic and harmful if you use it to bottle up other emotions or ignore when everything’s just not okay. Sadness can be toxic when you dwell and steep in it for too long and it consumes you. Anger can be toxic when you use it to unduly inflict wrath on others, but if you can see how happiness and sadness can be beneficial to your health and relationships, anger is no different.

I think instead of asking if testosterone makes you angry, we should ask if testosterone changes your emotional range for the better or not. Yes, it made me angrier in the sense that I experience anger more often now, but that anger came at the cost of my willingness to be walked all over by other people, because the actual toxic people in this world are way more reluctant to trample someone who will bite at their ankles if they do.

#trans posts #transition tag #shut up dames

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 4 years

Text

My laptop is currently updating, so while I have that working in the background, I wanted to share a series of six short, mostly-opera-inspired autobiographical narratives/prose poems I wrote last April and May:

I would kill to have some wine right now.

There is a bottle of red wine sitting on the kitchen counter. My father bought it when he went to the store the other day─ don’t ask me what day it was, I don’t remember, the days already blend together as is─ and I have considered pouring even just a little bit into a glass and downing it.

And then proceeding to throw the glass against the wall and shatter it.

I’ve been contemplating doing that a lot lately.

True, I would kill to have some wine, but if I did go ahead and pour even just a little bit into a glass, and down it, and possibly then proceed to throw the glass against the wall and shatter it, I would most likely be killed before I had the chance to kill.

Kill or be killed. We are all trying our very best to do neither these days, but it happens anyway.

I am sixteen years old. As I start writing this, I am nine days away from turning seventeen. For me, alcohol consumption is thus not only not approved by the Parents, but also illegal. But then again, so is voting blue in the 2020 US Presidential election. That is also something neither approved by the Parents nor legal for me. But I digress.

Thirty-one, twenty-nine, thirty-one again, sixteen now, that makes sixty, ninety-one, one hundred and seven days since I watched one of my classmates get drunk at a New Year’s Eve party. She downed a whole bottle of peach wine (I didn’t even know that was a thing) and looked at me with her red eyes and silver-sequined halter top and curly dark brown hair in a high ponytail. You’re more beautiful than Jesus she told me and you’ll go to the moon on a rocketship. I laughed.

I laugh when something’s so unexpected I can’t do anything else. I laughed when I first heard Notre Dame Cathedral had caught fire because it seemed so ludicrous that I couldn’t do anything else. Notre Dame on fire? You can’t be serious, it can’t be serious.

It was serious.

I’m not sure if she was.

A little part of me wishes she were.

When I was in sixth grade, I told the same girl I thought her hair was luscious. Sixth-grade me didn’t know the word had a sexual connotation; the girl did and was offended.

Maybe a little part of me did know, somehow.

***

As I write this next part, I am working on a paper about state-sponsored censorship. I have picked this topic because it is a fascinating topic, it fits the requirements for the paper─ write about a major global problem─, and because I feel censored myself.

Expressing anything that conflicts with the Parents’ thoughts and opinions is strictly forbidden. If you are different, you are ostracized. I am different, so I am ostracized.

I am too proud, too strong to succumb. But it still hurts.

As I write this, I am listening to Act IV of Rossini’s Guillaume Tell, an opera about liberation, appropriate for both me and my paper. At this moment, Hedwige is calling on God, ‘the hope of the hopeless’, to save her husband and break the yoke of oppression that binds Switzerland.

It’s very nice, and the sentiment is good and true, and it works for her and Mathilde and Jemmy and the Swiss women, but it does not work for me. I lost my faith a long time ago. Ironically, it is French grand opéra, the genre to which Guillaume Tell belongs, that is partially responsible for my loss of faith.

It was impossible for me to watch Verdi’s Don Carlos for the first time in eighth grade and Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots in tenth and not be horrified by the things people do in the name of religion, to kill people senselessly just because they believe slightly differently than them─ even their own daughters (as is the finale of Les Huguenots).

How can a good God allow such things?

Do I realize these works are fictional? Yes. But do I know they are based on history, on real events? Yes.

“These things are meant to happen; they are all in God’s plan.” Well, can God just not find another way to make what’s meant to happen happen? I cannot believe in a God that allows these things to happen. To say that an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good God who can allow such things exists is a lie.

***

Now that Guillaume Tell is over, I am listening to another grand opéra, Les vepres siciliennes, albeit in its Italian version, I vespri siciliani. Another opera about occupation and liberation, but a liberation that comes at a horrible cost: the entire French ruling class is massacred by the Sicilians at the end of the opera.

If I didn’t care, I would stage my own personal ‘massacre’: I would turn my back, walk out the front door with the possessions I most needed to survive on my own, and never come back.

But I do care. They may not care, but I do.

One of my greatest curses is that I care about what I care about too much. My heart is too deep to not care.

There are some battles that are not worth being fought.

If a massacre is your only recourse to accomplish something, perhaps you should not do that thing. Or, at least try to find another way.

Right now, I am at the beginning of Act III, at Monforte’s aria “In braccio alle dovizie”. In the original French, it’s called “Au sein de la puissance”. At the breast of power.

Monforte is the hated French governor of Sicily, the revolutionaries’ primary target. When he sings this, he has just learned that one of the main revolutionaries, Arrigo, is his long-lost illegitimate son.

By rape.

‘The breast of power’ indeed.

Just like with a massacre, if rape is your only recourse to accomplish something, perhaps you should not do that thing either.

Just a thought.

I’m a woman. What do I know, in the eyes of many out there?

One of my friends said that Verdi gave Monforte his just deserts, but also overly beautiful music. “He couldn’t help it, though, not when his Dad Music Instincts were activated.”

I feel guilty listening to the aria, even though it is truly a beautiful piece and the recording I’m listening to─ a 1989 recording from the Teatro alla Scala, with Giorgio Zancanaro as Monforte─ is absolutely gorgeous.

Can we separate the music from the character, the art from the artist? I do not know. Everyone has something utterly heinous to someone else. Once we stop separating the art from the artist, where do we begin again? And yet, I do not want to support people who do horrible things to others.

Perhaps it is all relative.

Perhaps everything is.

Perhaps nothing is absolute at all.

That frightens me.

***

Today is Rome’s 2,773rd birthday. As a six-year Latin student and future classics and history double-major, this is cause for celebration.

If things were normal and I were at school, my Latin teacher would bring birthday cake for all the Latin students, and we’d eat it and sing “Felix dies natalis, Roma”. Happy Birthday, Rome.

But things are not normal, and I’m at home multitasking between this and a presentation script for that paper, and still listening to I vespri siciliani.

Now I’m at the end of Act IV. Everyone is celebrating the impending marriage of Arrigo to Duchess Elena, one of the Sicilian revolutionary leaders. Sicilian and French, united at last. Everything is set to work out.

But there’s still Giovanni da Procida, the other major revolutionary leader, who is hellbent on revenge. He sees this wedding as the perfect opportunity to strike down the French once and for all.

And thus, the massacre.

Everything can be set to work out, but there is always something that comes up. A massacre, a pandemic, a set of internal troubles that bring a proud empire to its ruin.

Now I’m in Act V, at Elena’s bolero ‘Merce, dilette amiche’. She has no idea about Procida’s plans; she’s just excited to marry Arrigo and bring peace to her beloved Sicily at last. I think I’m going to change operas again after this is over; the act is rather uneven (though I still very much like it) and I would prefer not to listen to everything falling apart today.

I debate listening to Berlioz’s Les Troyens, the closest thing to an opera about the founding of Rome and a masterpiece itself. But there is still too much about collateral damage for my tastes today: one kingdom falls and another loses its benevolent queen, all in the name of a supposedly greater destiny. And that’s just based on the first third of the Aeneid. I wrote an essay about that first third once for English class, using that thesis; my English teacher said it was one of the best essays he’d ever read. But I digress.

After a quick refresher on the synopsis, I decide to change styles and go with a story from the heyday of the Roman Empire: Handel’s Agrippina. Lots of plotting, but everyone gets what they want in the end and it ends happily for all. No collateral damage here. I am weary of that.

Sometimes I feel like collateral damage.

It’s tough to remember that you’re the master of your own story, not just a side character or a scapegoat in so many others’.

Everyone in this opera knows they’re the masters. That’s the problem. But it ultimately works out.

I want nothing more than for it to work out for me. It hasn’t yet.

But I have a feeling it will.

***

I got maybe halfway through the first act of Agrippina yesterday. I love Baroque opera, but I guess only in small doses.

No matter.

Today I’m listening to the beginning of Act II of Verdi’s Don Carlo. This is the fourth time in a row I’ve listened to it.

I read John Green’s Turtles All The Way Down recently. The main character frequently finds herself stuck in ‘thought spirals’, where she keeps thinking more and more about the same thing. I have those too, although I tend to picture my mind more as a bullet train: it always moves hundreds of miles an hour, faster than I can control, from one thought to the next. I constantly find myself retracing the figurative map of my mind to figure out what I was thinking about, what I need to remember but simply cannot. And it’s like my mind keeps returning to the same stations a lot; these are my equivalent to the spirals.

This opera, this moment, is one of my frequent stations.

Make that five times in a row now. This will be the last, I promise myself.

In this scene, a group of monks chant, praying for the rest of the dead Emperor Charles V, whom, I note with a smile, was himself a character in one of Verdi’s earliest operas, Ernani. In that opera, he sings an aria where he confronts his destiny as the next Holy Roman Emperor. My legacy will live throughout the ages, he sings.

Including in two different Verdi operas.

But there I go again on another bullet-train route.

The monks are singing now, their stark minor-major shifts making me feel as if I am there, in the cloister of San Yuste or in any of the great cathedrals of Spain, looking up into the vaults of the ceiling, of heaven itself, seemingly. The only lights come from candles in my mental picture, and I gaze up, my head uncovered, my mind only partially spellbound, more by the visual beauty and the history than by any religious feeling.

I am a heathen.

I have only been inside a Catholic church once, when I was fourteen; it was an impromptu side trip during a school-sponsored tour of colleges in St. Louis. One of the chaperones said the Cathedral Basilica had can’t-miss art, and thus managed to get a large section of the attendees to come with her.

She was right. It was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen. And that was all I thought.

Okay, that’s a lie. I did wonder what it would be like to be able to have faith again, to be able to kneel in one of the pews, and pray, and believe, as my ancestors have done before me; after all, if religion were something you inherited in your blood, then I would be half-Catholic.

But I cannot kneel and pray and believe.

In this scene, one of the monks claims that Charles V fell because he was too proud, because he believed that he was greater than God. If a god exists, I do not claim to be greater than them. I am not perfect, not by a long shot.

He did not die because he did not believe in God. He died because everyone dies, even those who are supposedly the greatest of us.

God alone is great, the monk proclaims. I do not, cannot believe that. We are all great to begin with, but some of us are led to believe we are not.

We are the masters. I must remember that.

And I realize that I have let it play a sixth time.

Sometimes I am not the master of my own mind.

***

The sixth time was the last.

Now I am at the end of the act, listening to the showdown between Filippo II, King of Spain, and Rodrigo, Marquis di Posa. Filippo is the guardian of the way things are; Verdi called Rodrigo an anachronism, and indeed, he was the only principal character who never existed.

Rodrigo, he said, was at least two centuries ahead of his time.

I don’t know what exactly Verdi’s feelings were about this, but personally, I do not think this is a bad thing. Progressivism is often progressivism in any age.

At any rate, Rodrigo, who has recently returned from Spanish-held Flanders, has taken his chance─ a rare private meeting with the King, who is confused as to why Rodrigo has never approached him for favors like all the other courtiers─ to confront him about the horrific conditions of Flanders and its people. Give them liberty, he pleads.

No. I have given them the same peace I have given Spain.

A horrible peace!, Rodrigo fires back. The peace of the tomb!

We should not have to suffer until death.

Let history not say of you, “He was a Nero.” A murderer of innocents, a torturer of the defenseless, an occupier, a denier of liberty─ perhaps the greatest torture of all.

I once watched a video in which a director said, “To live in an occupied country is to live only half a life.” I would say that to live in an occupied country, or even any place where you cannot be free, cannot live fully as yourself, is not even that. It is to barely live at all. It is to merely have a beating heart and breath.

To live in spite of this, to simply be as you wish, is the ultimate act of defiance.

#notyouraveragejulie writes #(or rather reads old writing)#writing #poetry #poems #prose poems #autobiographical narratives #life in the time of COVID #opera #opera tag #censorship #freedom #also the author would like to note that this was written *before* she saw Agrippina and loved it so those comments aren't 100% accurate now

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honeyfreckled · 3 years

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a messy ramble/rant on what tfatws is tryna pull here. ik i was told this would happen, but a stupid hoe can still be pissed

ok where are my well spoken leftists who know how to explain things and aren’t bumbling dumbasses like me? need yall to do me a solid and help me compose my jumbled thoughts enough to form actual sentences and make a coherent analysis on exactly what we are all watching tfatws do here.

yes, yall warned me this was gonna happen bc big media will never portray anarchism as anything other than violent, dangerous, and misaligned. bc the media corp would cease to exist under anarchy. it directly profits from capitalism, neoliberalism, and imperialism. they are the real villains but this is their narrative to spin, their content and platforms. the franchise must be protected at all costs and continue netting profit- which they need capitalism in order to do, so they must present themselves on the right side of history. they push for supposed reform nowadays, they say we won’t achieve anything w direct action. that anarchists are a terror group hellbent on inflicting violence on the innocent when in actuality that is DISNEY/MARVEL’s gig when u take into account how they run and operate by taking advantage of their marginalized, minimum wage workers and being in cahoots w the govt agencies they feature in their media. they keep the status quo by getting the individual to either fear anarchy, believe it to be a moot cause, or grow tired/complacent w any political discussion and instead only show interest in the otherworldly/fictional parts of these shows.

yes, im aware of the way mega media pivots when popular opinion changes. but im not able to put my finger on how they achieve it so insidiously and without snags. how they move w the times w/out addressing or rectifying their own despicable practices. capitalist media like disney/marvel is able to do this a lot more covertly than others imo. u have to catch yrself from falling down into the distraction trap and remind yrself that marvel is about as left as jeff bezos. but god how they warp the political stances to make themselves seem on the right side of things can be invisible to ppl who dont have any previous knowledge of real anarchism or even leftism and how neoliberalism like this is effective propaganda.

esp to the stans who are just there to watch their favorite yt actor and ride for his character so hard they’ll eagerly buy into whatever message is being pushed out of sheer fanaticism. doesn’t help that this show is definitely more palatable to the “woke” section of the audience who thinks marvel is rlly doin something radical here. plus like i said, we have to consider the fact that so many members of the target audience aren’t looking out for propaganda like this. they have been taught to recognize only blatantly obvious propaganda that goes against their more liberal principles. they don’t recognize this as propaganda bc they like it and don’t feel a knee-jerk reaction against it. the show seems convey a message they view as a “finally someone said it! finally marvel is woke and i can watch without shame! this is how our heroes should be!” what the mcu is doing in this phase is rlly fucking scary bc imo this kinda presentation is more dangerous. it’s harder to pin down and extremely easy for folks to give props to and not wanna critique. it will age better than other mcu phases which makes critical left analysis seem nit picky and folks dont wanna hear it.

idk if it’s a matter of them not seeing this as propaganda at all, or just not caring that it is bc they are too devoted to who they stan they’re able to use cognitive dissonance w shows like this bc he’s in them. perhaps most of them are liberals, so they have no problem w a media conglomerate whose billion dollar franchise operates w govt contracts and is required by fractions of the armed forces/pentagon/fbi to get final script, edit, and cut approval from those govt agencies.

before yall hardcore leftists and anarchists tell me anything, ik i shouldn’t be watching this ok. at least im p*rating it rather than helping to feed the beast. it’s just. disappointing and sad to see them vilify and lie on a group who rlly isn’t the problem irl, and does more to combat terrorism than fucking enact it. that has always been an argument against anarchism. one that holds less and less weight nowadays when the majority of domestic terrorism is committed by white supremacists, who belong to a fucking variant of fascism, which is what anarchists are fucking against! AHHHHH! wtf dlkjfalkdjfkls!!!! (btw yes ik my educated leftists don’t fuck w any disney media bc the valid critiques on the disney oligarchy as a whole is enough reason to just know it’s all trash but maybe someone else is watching this and ready to analyze it too)

#this tag means im pissed at marvel or disney again

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lemonz-and-limez · 4 years

Text

The Breach Implosion Complication

A/N: Ok, to say I am nervous to post this is an understatement. I think it's safe to say I am downright terrified. This is the first time I will be posting a crossover and I just don't know what to expect. But I have really been enjoying writing this and I hope you all love reading it just as much!

Just for some timeline references, this is set after Big Bang Theory 9x09 and Flash 2x09. And, yes, we've got some major dubious science in here lol.

Sheldon stared at his whiteboard with disappointment. His work was suffering; he knew this, but, now that the university had him on a time crunch for some work that was substantial… he was starting to see the scope of his work's downgrade. But he couldn't help that he was distracted by personal matters, by the loss of his most important relationship. Sheldon wanted to blame Amy for his professional downfall, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. Despite everything, he still loved her and wanted her to be happy. It wasn't her fault that he was an inadequate boyfriend.

Glancing over at the clock on his desk, Sheldon sighed when he realized it was almost noon. He had wasted half the day staring at this godforsaken whiteboard and still coming up with nothing. He was running out of time. The university was going to pull his funding if he didn't come up with something soon.

Suddenly there was a knock on his office door, and Leonard peeked his head inside. "Hey, buddy, we're off to lunch. You coming?"

Sheldon shook his head in the negative. "No," he replied. "I can't afford to waste any more time. I need to come up with something."

"Sheldon," Leonard sighed and fully stepped into the room. "Maybe it will help if you get out of this room for a while. You're working yourself to death."

He wanted to yell, throw, lash out at his best friend still standing in the doorway. He was *not* working himself to death. After all, he hadn't come up with anything of value in months. If he was working himself to death, he would have made progress by now. "Leonard, really, I'm fine," he tried reassuring the shorter man. "I just need to focus."

Leonard held his hands up in surrender. "All right, suit yourself. But I heard something pretty cool happened in Central City a couple of days ago. I know how you love a good discussion about that."

Without further ado, Leonard left him alone. Sheldon sighed once again. He loved talking about the latest metahuman news with his friends. Two years ago, when the Flash made his first appearances as the Streak in Central City, Sheldon and his friends spent almost all their time reading about him. Consuming the limited information that there was on this mystery man in red. Like the vigilante of Starling City, or the Green Arrow as he would later be known, nobody knew who the Flash really was. It wasn't that he was hellbent on finding out who this new hero was, but it made for an interesting hobby. Even if Amy told him it was a tad creepy.

Sheldon deflated again the moment his ex's name came into his mind. He couldn't let that hinder him, though. He needed to focus. Friday… he just needed to get to Friday. Then he could talk to his friends about exciting topics. He would either still have a job or be fired by the end of the week, no matter what.

Sheldon was about to turn away from his board to sit down, but a sudden woosh and jolt stopped him. And before he could even process what was happening, Sheldon was in an entirely different room altogether.

He knew he had just moved insanely fast, but the sudden stop was the thing that was truly disorienting. He held his arms out in front of him as if to make sure he had his balance. Sheldon looked around the room almost frantically, taking in his new surroundings, trying to deduce where he was. There were screens everywhere, each displaying some kind of data or logo. But Sheldon was so out of sorts he couldn't comprehend what it was. There was a hole in the wall, almost like a closet, but it was empty. There was nothing in it.

When Sheldon turned around, he was met with three pairs of eyes. Two of which were standing behind a large console with even more screens with even more data. A man and a woman both look shell shocked to see him standing there. But they were not who interested Sheldon the most. No, that award went to the man who stood next to the long desk. Clad in all red leather, a white emblem with a lightning bolt on his chest.

"You-you're," Sheldon sputtered and pointed at the man. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off of him. "You're the Flash."

With a nod, Flash validated Sheldon's last statement. "I am. And you're Dr. Sheldon Cooper."

"You know who I am?" he asked, shocked to hear his name come from the person he had admired for so long.

"I do. Child progeny, who graduated at eleven, had his first Ph.D. by the time he was sixteen and now works at CalTech."

Sheldon looked at the other two people in the room, wondering how in the world these people knew this information. What else did they know? "How- how do you know all of that."

The Flash smiled under his cowl. "Your biography on your university's website is very detailed."

One of the other two people in the room finally spoke up. The man... who had long dark hair and some kind of graphic t-shirt. "We also kind of ran a background check on you."

"Cisco!" Both the woman and the Flash whispered harshly.

Cisco, apparently, held his hands up. "Excuse me, but he asked!" He defended himself before sitting in front of the console to work on one of the screens.

There was an awkward silence for a moment as the remaining two people and Sheldon stared at each other. "As amazing as it is to meet you," Sheldon said, gesturing to the man decked out in all red. "Why did you bring me here? Also, where is here?" He asked, gesturing at all the surroundings.

"You're at STAR Labs in Central City, and we brought you here because we need your help."

"Wow, ok, STAR Labs as in particle accelerator explosion STAR Labs?" Sheldon had heard of what had happened here over two years ago. It was tragic, really, how wrong the accelerator being turned on had gone. Its success could have meant leaps and bounds for the scientific community. But instead, it only seemed to have brought tragedy.

The Flash sighed. "The very one. Look, I know our reputation here is less than stellar, but we really could use your help."

Sheldon looked at the woman, who at this point had still said nothing, and saw that she was nodding in agreement. He really wanted to help, but he had a deadline he had to meet. A very hard deadline that could cost him his job. "Look, Flash, I would love to help, but I have a lot of work back home that I need to take care of."

The Flash made eye contact with Cisco, who took a renewed interest in the conversation. "Dr. Cooper," Cisco started, standing again. "We know your work has taken a hit recently; if you help us, we may be able to help you too."

Sheldon narrowed his eyes at the shorter man and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Do I want to know how you know that?"

"Probably not, no," Cisco rushed out, shaking his head. "But if we work together, I think we could be of great use to each other." Suddenly, he smirked. "And besides, I think you'll be more than happy to help us," he said, pointing at Sheldon's chest.

Looking down, confused, Sheldon was embarrassed when he remembered what shirt he had put on that morning. His signature red Flash shirt. Suddenly his cheeks were just as red as his clothing, and he kept his head down to hide that fact.

"Hey," Cisco called, bringing Sheldon's attention back to him. "It's alright, we of all people understand."

Sheldon shot the man a tight-lipped smile that was gone as quickly as it came. "I want to help, I really do. But I don't know how much help I'll be right now. I've been going through some stuff lately."

"Believe me when I say that everyone in this room has been through some stuff," The woman next to Cisco finally spoke. "Maybe a change of scenery will be good for you."

Looking back at the Flash, he saw that the scarlet speedster was questioning him with his eyes. "What do you say?"

"Alright," he nodded. "I'll help you. But I think it's only fair if I know why."

The Flash nodded. "I agree, Dr. Cooper. And it is only fair that you know who you're working with." He gestured over at his colleagues. "These are my friends," He spoke again, gesturing to the other two people in the room. "Cisco Ramon and Dr. Caitlin Snow."

Caitlin… or Dr. Snow… smiled genuinely at him. "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Cooper."

Sheldon nodded back at her. "So, what do you need me to do?"

Flash looked to his friends, and it was as if they were having a silent conversation simply through facial expressions. It was when Cisco and Caitlin both nodded that he turned back to Sheldon. "Maybe it would be easier if we showed you."

"Ok," he whispered, following all three people as they led the way.

STAR Labs was state of the art with all the latest technology, even though only half a dozen people were employed there. Sheldon had heard bits and pieces about what really happened here when the particle accelerator exploded. Still, like everything else that came out of this lab, it was a mystery. Maybe he would be able to get the full story before he went back home.

Flash led him and his friends through the winding halls and down an elevator. When they arrived at the heavy metal door, Sheldon went in ahead of them, cautiously curious. His eyes winded as soon as he saw it, though. A large mass of light that appeared to be stable but was whirling with energy.

"This," Sheldon pointed at the elephant in the room. "Is this a wormhole?"

"You could say that," Cisco said as he came to stand next to him. "We're calling them breaches."

Sheldon's brow furrowed in confusion. "Breeches? To what?"

It was the scarlet speedster who answered. "To another Earth."

"Another Earth?" Sheldon repeated. "The multiverse theory… it's true?"

"Definitely, and we have a giant problem to prove it." Cisco went further into the room to stand next to the breach.

"What's the problem?"

"He goes by the name Zoom," Cisco started, an edge to his voice that was telling of how serious the situation must be. "And he's from Earth-2. Zoom has an insane need for speed and will do anything to make sure he gets what he wants. He's already broken Flash's back once."

Sheldon's eyes shot to the man in question, who only nodded his confirmation. He remembered seeing that story on the news, how the Flash was nearly beaten to death by a new dangerous villain. "That was Zoom?"

Flash continued for Cisco. "Yes, and he won't hold back again if we let him, which is why we need your help. We need to close the breaches to the other Earth."

Cisco pulled up a map of Central City on one of the computer screens. He gestured for Sheldon to come over to him. "These are all the breaches that are scattered throughout the city. We need to close all of them except for this one," he said, pointing at the large wormhole in front of them.

"Exactly how many are there?"

"Including this one, there are fifty-two breaches in Central City," Cisco told him. Sheldon must have looked shocked because he quickly continued. "This is the largest one though, it's giving off the most transdimensional energy."

Sheldon studied the breach in front of him. He was fascinated with it. The way it flowed, to and fro, almost like water. But it wasn't a liquid, no, not at all. It was the gateway to a parallel universe. A door. He began nodding his head, understanding a little bit more of what they needed to do. Nothing was certain; he needed to write a formula, breakdown the math. But after months of getting nowhere with his research, he finally felt a renewed love for science.

"So, basically, we need to close the door from this side, ultimately locking anyone on the other side out. The event horizon on this side of the breach needs to collapse." Sheldon thought out loud, pacing back and forth. "Which means that the breach would need to be unstable…"

Flash and Cisco seemed to be catching on to what he was saying, and both of them came closer to the breach where Sheldon was now standing. With both men in close proximity to him and all three of them staring at the wonder in front of them, Sheldon continued. "It's going to take a lot of energy to do this, though."

Cisco snapped his fingers. "You'd need a detonation of some kind. Something that would destroy it but not create…" He sighed and paused heavily. "Not create a singularity."

The mood in the room suddenly turned somber, and Sheldon watched as the other three people simultaneously look down. He had a feeling he knew what this was about. "I take it you're referencing the mysterious singularity that happened here last year?"

All three people scoffed, but Flash was the one who ultimately spoke up. "Not mysterious, but yes, we don't want another repeat of that event."

Even though he was challenged with everyday social interaction, Sheldon knew better than to probe further on the subject. He had a feeling it was a sore spot for them, and as of late, he was also too familiar with sore spots. He wouldn't like them asking about Amy. Which was not outside the realm of possibility, seeing as how they knew a little too much about him. But regardless, he didn't want to cause any undue pain to people that he barely knew. Especially since one of these people was the Flash, a man who he'd admired for years.

A man who he now wanted to help.

"I'll need some time," Sheldon told the team. "But I think I can figure this out."

His entire academic career and Sheldon had never seen someone react with such gratitude for his assistance. Back in California, people only came to him begrudgingly. They knew he was the best for the job, but his lack of social graces gave him an infamous reputation. Sheldon always told himself that he didn't care, and maybe for years, he honestly didn't. But there was a strange feeling in his chest, looking at these people who didn't really know him and seeing them be thankful for his help—people who all seemed so genuine and caring and only wanted to do good in the world. Sheldon had to do this for them; he needed to do right by them.

Suddenly there was a beeping sound coming from one of the computers. The Flash looked at it for a moment. "I have to go," he informed them. "Look, Dr. Cooper, thank you for helping us."

Even if he was in a rush, Sheldon could tell that the man was genuinely grateful. He smiled slightly. "My pleasure."

And in the blink of an eye, the Flash sped off, leaving a gust of wind behind him. Papers flew off the tables, and his hair was messed up, but Sheldon was too mesmerized to care. So transfixed that he almost didn't hear Cisco when he said he would show Sheldon to a lab.

"So, why do you want to keep the breach downstairs open but not all the others?" Sheldon asked as he and Cisco walked the halls once again.

"One way in, one way out," Cisco stated simply. "Right now, Zoom could breach to almost anywhere in the city. But if he could only access this Earth one way, we could know he's coming and be prepared."

"You want to set up a trap," Sheldon affirmed. He had to admit, "That's smart."

They turned a corner and came to a stop in front of an open door. "It is, and get ready to meet the jerk who came up with that idea." Cisco's facial expression was somewhere between scared and annoyed.

And Sheldon was about to ask why he looked so apprehensive when a loud crash from inside the lab stopped him. And he could now add anger to the list of emotions so blatantly written across Cisco's face.

"Yo! Harry, what have I told you about throwing my stuff?!" The shorter man yelled as he stomped into the room. Sheldon cautiously followed behind him.

Inside there was another, taller, man dressed in all black. With hair sticking up in almost every direction, fingers through it, agitating it more. But when he angrily turned around to face Cisco, Sheldon had to take a step back. The man was older, late forties maybe even early fifties. But this man's face had been all over the news right after the particle accelerator exploded. And after his mysterious *death* which occurred last year. A death he was sure Team Flash knew more about than they were letting on.

Harrison Wells… the CEO of STAR Labs and the man who kept far too many secrets for the liking of the scientific community. But he was well respected, and he fascinated Sheldon anyway. Most of his research was leaps and bounds ahead of the times. Sheldon often read through his papers with interest instead of disdain like he did most other scientists. He had, honestly, hoped to meet the infamous Dr. Wells one day… but he died.

"Dr. Cooper?" Cisco questioned, pulling Sheldon out of his musings. "Are you ok?"

Sheldon couldn't look away from Dr. Wells… Harrison… whoever he was standing awkwardly in the back of the room. "You're dead," he stated outright, confusion seeping from his voice.

"On this Earth, yes," Dr. Wells answered, his voice rough.

Cisco explained it in layman's terms. "He's from Earth-2." He paused with a heavy sigh. "As for the Dr. Wells of this Earth, that's part of another really long story."

Well, that was one way to pique his curiosity, Sheldon thought. Obviously, there was more to the story of STAR Labs than the media was covering. And these new people that he had been introduced to obviously knew everything.

"Ramon," Dr. Wells whispered, the gruff in his voice stronger when his voice was quieter. "Who is this? And why is he here?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"This is Dr. Sheldon Cooper," Cisco beamed a stark contrast to the other man who only continued to frown. "He's going to help with our breach problem."

Dr. Well's brow furrowed with confusion. "How is a Geologist going to help close the breaches?"

Sheldon didn't think the other man could have hurt him more even if he physically punched him. He staggered back with a hand to his chest in offense. "Geologist- why would you? Who said I was a geologist?" He asked frantically, looking between Cisco and this hooligan who had the audacity to insinuate he was one of the 'dirt boys'.

"I take it you're not a geologist on this earth?" Dr. Wells' presumed.

"Wha- NO!" Sheldon shouted, and Cisco flinched but giggled beside him. Sheldon looked at him sharply, shooting fire at him with his eyes. How was this funny?

All the humor left the shorter man's face. "It's not funny," he said seriously.

"No, it's not!" Sheldon seethed. "Why would you think I'm a geologist?"

"On my Earth, you're a world-renowned geologist—best of the best. I pulled a lot of strings to get you to come work at STAR Labs with me," Dr. Wells explained.

Never in a million years did Sheldon think he was a rock monkey in any universe. He almost didn't want to believe it, just tell himself that Dr. Wells was just messing with him. That was until said scientist pulled up a picture on whatever fancy watch he was wearing and confirmed what he had told Sheldon.

Sheldon walked further into the room as a holographic picture of his doppelgänger standing with Dr. Wells appeared. It was a part of a news article from their world.

STAR Labs Revolutionizing the World of Geology!

The headline read. Sheldon didn't bother reading the article. After all, he wasn't this other Dr. Cooper. Sheldon didn't waste his time on rocks. He did, however, waste his time studying this picture from another Earth. Looking into the eyes of the man who was him but at the same time not. The man who stood by Dr. Wells' side, donning a wide grin. They were identical; of course, they would be genetically indistinguishable. But there was something lighter about the Sheldon Cooper of Earth-2; more at ease. Sheldon figured one would have to be if they decided to go into a field like geology.

But no, there was something else. Perhaps it was the fact that he was working in a multibillion-dollar facility with cutting edge tech and an excellent paycheck, no doubt. Or maybe it was that golden band on the fourth finger of his left hand—the gold glinting like a star in the night sky to the camera lens.

"He's married," Sheldon whispered in fascination, still examining the picture.

Would he look like that if he hadn't been so stupid? Would he have a dopey grin on his face if he had acted on their fifth anniversary instead of ruining it? Even though he was all the way in Central City, over fifteen-hundred miles away from Los Angeles, that wretched ring in his desk drawer was screaming at him like a banshee.

"He is married," Dr. Wells said, pulling him from his musings. He closed his watch with simultaneously made the picture disappear. "Quite the woman he found too. She's a force to be reckoned with."

Sheldon was too curious not to ask. "Who is she?"

With Dr. Wells poised to answer, Cisco's voice rang from the doorway of the lab. "Okay!" He yelled in a sing-song manner. Sheldon looked back at him incredulously. "Look, feel free to talk about your doppelgangers all you want, but I have some work I need to go take care of."

"Be my guest, Ramon," Dr. Wells snipped.

"I don't need your permission, Harry," Cisco snarked back. The tension between these two was insane, and Sheldon wasn't sure how he felt about it. "Listen, Dr. Cooper, everything you need should be in this room, but if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Oh! Before I forget," he reached into his pocket and handed him a flash drive of some kind. "This will give you access to a STAR Labs computer. Just plug it in, and you should be good to go."

Sheldon took the tiny device from his hand. Just an ordinary flash drive, it appeared. "Thank you," he told Cisco.

And with that, he was gone, but not before telling Dr. Wells… Harry… to behave himself.

Sheldon took a moment to really get used to his new surroundings. This had to be one of the smaller labs in the building, and yet, it was already more extensive than Leonard's. Tools everywhere, tech that any geek like himself would love to get their hands on. Their whiteboards weren't white; instead, they were like glass. You could see right through them. The white marker that was provided created enough of a contrast, though. Sheldon could tell by the plethora of calculations that Dr. Wells had on a couple of them.

As awkward as it was just standing in the room like an intruder while the man from Earth-2 got back to work on whatever it was he was working on, Sheldon found a spot and dove into the work he was brought in to do. A large table all to himself, almost twice the size of his desk back home. A board and white marker for him to brainstorm on. And a computer that sat idle with the STAR Labs logo.

When he plugged the drive into the monitor, a browser opened up and a long list of files. One of which was conveniently named, Breaches. Curiously he clicked on the folder and found that Cisco had complied all the information that they currently had on these portals to another dimension. In detail, it was explained to him how they stabilized a breach using quark matter. It was rather helpful, and Sheldon began to calculate on the "whiteboard".

He worked faster and more eager than he had in months. The formulas and equations flowed from him like blood did to the heart. That was until he hit a roadblock. Confused, he stepped back and observed his work, studying every last detail, every last decimal. Until he found the slight miscalculation that threw off most of his work. To say Sheldon was upset was an understatement. He couldn't even solve something he was inspired by, something he was excited about. His mind, once his most prized possession, was worthless now. In an uncharacteristic display of anger, he chucked the marker he held in his hand at the wall in an unbridled fit of rage.

Dr. Wells, who had barely made a sound since Cisco left well over an hour ago, looked up at him with wide eyes. His hands stilled over whatever piece of technology he was tinkering with and continued to stare at Sheldon with obvious shock.

Sheldon interlaced his fingers behind his head and took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm just frustrated."

Dr. Wells laughed slightly as he wiped his hands with a nearby cloth. "Don't worry about it, believe me, I understand." He twisted on his stool to face him fully. "I even know what that look on your face is about."

"What look?"

"The 'someone I love is gone, and now my work is suffering because of it' look," Dr. Wells asserted.

Sheldon sat back down on the stool of his own and scoffed. "She's not gone, she just…" he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"She broke up with you," the other man supplied. "Yeah, I figured."

For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Sheldon looked confused. "How?"

"When I showed you the picture of your doppelgänger," Dr. Wells explained. "There was a glint in your eye when you realized he was married. Like a yearning almost."

Sheldon hadn't realized that his emotions were that obvious. Or maybe the other man was just smart enough to pick up on nonverbal cues like that. There was no point in trying to lie to Dr. Wells, though, because he was right. There was a yearning—jealousy.

"We've been broken up for almost six months," he started, letting down barriers that even his friends couldn't break down. But for some reason, he was trusting a complete stranger. "She's the only woman that I've ever loved like that, and now she's trying to move on, and I…" his voice began to break the more he spoke, but he shook his head. Even though he was willing to talk, he was not willing to break.

There was a rolling sound, and Sheldon looked up to see that Dr. Wells had moved closer. "Sheldon… can I call you Sheldon?"

He nodded.

"My wife died when my daughter was four. I had to learn very quickly and very suddenly how to raise a child on my own while simultaneously grieve for the woman that I loved. And, yes, for a while, I was not good at it. Because losing someone who is your whole world, who is essentially your other half, it's unnerving. Like a part of you has been yanked away, and you have to find a way to live with that. It's one of the hardest things to do, but only the toughest of people come out of it stronger than they did before. And if you're anything like the Sheldon Cooper on my Earth, I know you're capable."

Sheldon studied the man in front of him. He appreciated what he was trying to say, but Sheldon didn't feel like he deserved it. "How is this even comparable, though? Your wife died, my girlfriend just broke up with me."

"Pain is pain," Dr. Wells said. "There's no comparison because everyone feels it differently. I don't know your situation, and I am not going to assume anything either. But ignoring the problem won't get you anywhere. Believe me, I am speaking from experience."

Sheldon scoffed. "Well then, what am I supposed to do? Just be a brooding mess all the time?"

"No… don't let it control you, let it drive you." Dr. Wells smiled slightly as if he was thinking about something. Or someone, Sheldon couldn't be sure. "Who knows, you just might surprise yourself."

With that, Dr. Wells rolled back over to his own workstation and left Sheldon sitting in thought. The last time he had seen Amy was on thanksgiving, the day they went to the aquarium together. As friends. In the car, Amy had asked him if he was doing ok. Of course, Sheldon knew what she was asking him, but he didn't want to tell her the truth. He didn't want her to see him vulnerable and hurt. And later that night, when he laid in bed unable to sleep, he wished he had just opened up to her. Because everything inside of him was coming to a head, ready to explode. Maybe talking to Amy would have been freeing.

Perhaps he would do something about it when he got home. But first, he had a job to do, and he wasn't about to blow it for the Flash.

Just as he turned back to start working on the equations again, an alarm sounded throughout the building. The other scientist in the room leaped from his seat and moved around the room frantically.

"What is that?" he asked as Dr. Wells grabbed what looked like a futuristic rifle.

Dr. Wells slung the strap of the weapon over his shoulder. "That is a proximity alarm; we need to move," he informed Sheldon, taking him by the arm and leading him out of the room.

Sheldon ran alongside the other man down the long winding corridors of STAR Labs. "What is going on?" he asked. He struggled to breathe as they came to a stop in front of a random concrete panel.

With a quick survey of their surroundings, Dr. Wells said nothing as he raised his hand to the wall like he was pushing a button. Sheldon watched as a specific part of the wall split in the middle creating an opening to a hidden room. But it wasn't like a door, no, the two halves disappeared into the adjoining two panels of concrete.

"Get in," Dr. Wells nudged him.

Sheldon stubbled into the all-white room that was, for the most part, empty. Except for, what looked like, a plinth in the deepest part of the space. He ran his hand over the white tiles that had random bumps everywhere, like brail.

"What is this place?" Sheldon asked, turning back to Dr. Wells.

The mechanism that let them in, activated again, but this time closed the "door" instead. It was like it wasn't even there. There was a mechanical clicking noise that sounded like when Sheldon's father cocked a shotgun. Sure enough, that's almost exactly what it was. Dr. Wells was now standing with his gun aimed towards the closed door.

"This is the only place I could think of to hide," Dr. Wells spoke shakenly.

"Hide? From what?"

Dr. Wells looked him dead in the eye, and Sheldon could see the fear there. "From Zoom… he's in the building."

A/N: Thank you so much for reading :)

I have about two and half chapters written already and will try to update on Fridays.

#writing #fanfcition #shamy fanfic #eventually #I promise #Harrison Wells is amazing #and I love him

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arlakos · 5 years

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Why Season 3 was a Rollercoaster of a mess. (Spoilers!)

Oh boy

Oooooooh boy where do I even begin

Lets start from the beginning i Suppose

When Miraculous Ladybug first came out i fell in love with the series. I thought the premise was nice, the characters ok and the story interesting. Well, to be fair I didnt expect much of the story due to being in its first season, but I loved it. The finale was meh (the last episode, not the mid-series Origins story, I watched it on Netflix). I liked the series. I loved the fandom. And i Couldn’t wait for season 2 at the time.

Then season 2 came out

As i started watching the first ep of season 2, it started out strong, answered a question i already knew, but then... it didn't go any further. See, when I expected season 2, I expected the story to be taken up a notch, the plot to become stronger, new and interesting characters to be introduced, and for someone to replace Hawkmoth as the antagonist (bc in my mind, he always felt like a season 1 antagonist to be replaced one season later by the actual main antagonist, and the mayura leaks did not help).

But it never came. The story remained simple and eventually started to become bland. All episodes were all single-story eps with no correlation to each other other than the characters in them. Every single character in the show that wasnt Marinette had any sort of character growth, and I could take any one of the episodes out other than the first and last two and it wouldn't have any impact. Maybe not all of them, but some.

(This was the same time I learned that all episodes in the series were meant to always be single episode storylines. It was the same time I learned the the shows creator was also an ASS-truc, but thats a story for another day)

So for season 2, I ended up starting to find the show boring and lackluster. Most of the episodes were boring and unentertaining, and aside from a select few, such as the finale, the new hero eps and a few others, the entire season was boring to heck.

Worse still, Marinette went from an ok nice girl (who was at times a bit of an arse) to a stalker asshole who was at times worse than Chloe.

(Then again, the first episode of the entire series literally had Marinette have a planner used to track Adrien's every move, so what the hell do i know)

The fandom, however, was still amazing at the time, so I stuck around. The fanfics were amazing at the time and the fandom was still so kind-hearted

Luckily for me, Season 3 would manage to have some much better episodes.

But at what cost.

WHAT. COST.

See, while Season 3 was undoubtedly better that season 2 overall in episode quality, this season was probably also the worst of all 3 at the same time. This season was not only the worst in overall season quality but the one that entirely ruined the fandom for me. The plot was again non-existent and there was still no character development, but they manage to make this season better by making a plotline that required all characters to be an idiot ball, then ditch it at the end just so Thomas could again insult people on twitter.

Lets start with the first episode of Season 3: Chameleon

Sometime before the production of season 2 and 3, Asstruc learned how to write someone as a martyr people would feel pity for that character and want to protect (read: stan) them.

So naturally, Ass-truc would abuse this a lot.

In the first ep of season 3, Astruc would create the worst episode ever made.

The premise of the episode is that Lila has returned to school and has been telling lies, which makes Marinette mad. None of the class believes her due to everyone being written as an idiot (seriously the someone gotta has google on their smartphones everyone has), so of course, Naturally Mari confronts Lila, who swears to ruin her life before and after an akuma battle which doesnt really matter for this episode, aside from the fact that Lila fully works with hawkmoth because being a bad kid means that working with a terrorist is perfectly reasonable if you can get revenge on the good guys.

So, including the fact Ass-truc reintroduced Lila back into the show as a Chloe 2.0 to making everyone an idiot ball so that the writing could even work, this will be the episode that I will hate the most. And not just for the episode itself. We’ll come to that later. But the point is, this is how most of the season would go:

-Lila: *exists*

-Marinette: *cries* im suffering so much, my life is ruined!

-Fans: stan to the point of insanity

-Me sipping my salt flavored tea: b*tch calm the f*ck down.

Speaking of Marinette, the Miraculous team had already been hellbent on making Marinette more of an asshole, stalkery and creepy and passing it off as cute in season 2, so they decided to fix that by dialing all that shit up to 11. Episodes like Weredad and Oni-chan really showed this, with the former having Marinette Literally manipulating Chat Noir to be stuck in a bad situation just for her own sake, and latter literally having her try to break into Adriens house because Lila is there. All for the excuse that Lila is a Liar and totally not because she is with Adrien, Marinette cant be jealous because Marinetteisperfectandamazingand-

Yeah, she really sucks as the main character. TBH I'm waiting for the spinoff show where Alix and Kim dare each other to do stupid stuff each episode like its MTV’s Jackass, it's gonna be fun.

Now onto the Other episodes!

While I will admit that compared to season 2, there were a lot of good episodes. Gamer 2.0, Feast, Ikari Gozen, Party Crasher, and of course the heart-wrenching Oblivio come to mind. These episodes are amazing and show how good the episodes are when you make sure the garden gnome is locked in a closet somewhere during episode development.

So out of the 26 episodes, 5 of them were really good.

The rest were either kinda ok or complete shit. That's not to say they were all bad, but there were just some parts... at best there was either a part of it I found cringeworthy too much for me to consider it as one of the good ones, such as Pupetteer 2 with its Adrien Statue scene, or at worst all of it was just written so badly, such as the entirety of Stormy Weather not actually being an episode and acutally being just and episode recap.

Now for the plot. Oh, wait, what plot?

First of all, Miraculous never had one. At best it was just a bunch of single-episode stories that Ass-truc wants you to think are connected somehow and somehow all work together as a cohesive story. A lot of the characters in Miraculous Ladybug

You mean the overarching storyline where Marinette becomes a Guardian just because she can pick a hero? Yeah, just ignore the episode where Fu said he had to spend an entire childhood learning how to even be an apprentice Guardian, or ignore the fact that picking a person to be a hero doesn't make Marinette qualified to be Guardian in a slightest!

(If someone literally has to ask me this, ask yourself if a pharmacist is fit to be a doctor just because they hand out your meds.)

What about the storylines about other certain characters in the show like Lila, who the show has been building up to be a villain while casually destroying characters' intelligence to be able to do so? The story about Chloe accepting that she can’t really be a hero anymore and moving on?

Ruined by the Finale.

Oh yeah, the finale.

This season Finale was probably the worst finale out of all the seasons and half the stuff done in the last two episodes did not make sense. I dont want to talk about it much because I want to do a blog post about it later on, but for the sake of the finale, they ruined a bunch of characters, martyred Marinette for the 100th time, and created some stupid plot ideas for the sake of coolness. And by coolness i mean stanning Marinette again and making her extra special. Doesnt matter if it makes a contradiction or makes no sense. Stupidity has won this episode!

To be fair though, all the reasons above aren’t the reasons I hate this season.

No.

The reason for season 3 being the worst for me is how it had ruined the fandom.

Ever since the first episode of season 3, the fandom has become a cesspool of salt and anger. Character bashing because the class didn't straight up agree with Marinette instantly, Over the top Marinette stanning, fanfics that go over the top crazy, it has gone insane. On ao3 most fanfics of ML that i have seen have been about ‘Chameleon Fix-Its’ where Lila is metaphorically shot with a GAT, ‘Marinette protection Squads’ which basically involve her moving schools because Lila exists, and the Maribat ship that has made my head dent my desk (seriously where the fuck did it come from?!). Worst still, as a result of Season 3, the Adrien hate has started to go crazy as a result of the Chameleon episode and similar eps resulting in Marinette being shipped with Luka (aka the better Adrien as stated by Marinette stans), Felix before the Felix episode dropped, and even Damien Wayne in the Notorious Maribat ship (no seriously where did it come from i want answers!). To put it simple, thanks to Ass-truc all of ao3 is filled with salt fics and no more original and interesting stories.

BTW while i have your attention and am talking about good Miraculous stories on ao3, go read Miraculous Tales by JED1 on AO3 its soo damn good.

To be fair, I myself am angry at the episode, but only because everyone was written to be an idiot ball for the episode to work, and because of the fact Astruc used the episode to rile up the fandom to be almost as toxic as him.

If anything, its the number one reasons why i hate seasons 3 and the reason why it has ruined the fandom for me.

And that, overall, is why i think Season 3 was a Rollercoaster of a mess.

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML Season 3 #ML Spoilers

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markedbyangels · 4 years

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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐀𝐘?

"everyone else is more important than me."

you're deathly afraid of being selfish. you're also deathly afraid of being forgotten. all you want is to be somebody's favorite person, but that feels like a far off dream. you try and make yourself interesting so that people stick around you. it doesn't feel like that's working. you want to hang out more with your friends, but it seems like they're always busy or that they have better friends than you.

Stolen from: @wickedlehane

Tagging: @noblewitch @heavensuffered and whoever else.

Notes below the cut for my personal take on this Quiz result and how it applies to Dean.

I’m not doing a full blown analysis - just some thoughts about the quiz.

‘You’re deathly afraid of being selfish.’

Yes, Dean does worry about being Selfish. While he has his vices (drink, girls, and sex) he’s constantly worrying about those around him, be they friends/family.* He’s always trying so hard to fix things, to make things okay, to ensure that they all ‘get through this’ even if it means making the worst decision for the right reason. There’s always The Job ( Saving people, hunting things: the family business ) and the responsibility he feels from it, as well as ensuring Sam’s safety.

* “A wise man once told me, 'family don't end in blood. ' But it doesn't start there either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them family's there; for the good, bad, all of it. They got your back, even when it hurts.” - Dean.

As a kid Dean was meant to watch over Sam, and did for 3 days all by himself (not uncommon), only to leave Sam alone and consequently a Shtriga attacked him. Since then Dean has been adamant to follow his father’s requests to the letter (see what I did there? hah...) and there’s been this overwhelming sense of responsibility. He’s a real soldier in this fight against the Supernatural and calls his father ‘Sir’ doing as instructed without hesitation for the most part, only when Sam argues with their dad does he try and intervene and break it up (protecting Sam, even if it means they argue about it/their dad later).

‘You’re also deathly afraid of being forgotten.’

Sam leaves and goes to Stanford, Leaving Dean behind with their dad - Dean has spent most of his own childhood being mother and father to his little brother (their dad was hellbent on finding the demon that killed their mother, and demons generally, that he was hardly there for them as kids in the typical parental fashion) - so when he leaves, Dean feels an emptiness that I personally can see him indulging even more in drink, girls and sex. The Job also becomes more important to him because it’s all he has other than his old man and brother.

‘All you want is to be somebody's favourite person, but that feels like a far off dream.’

Dean wants the normal life, no matter how he might preach about doing good via hunting in his earlier years like it’s ‘not that bad’ and yeah, saving people is something many dream about, but the Job is taxing and it wears on him throughout the series. It hardens him and he makes dreadful choices to save Sam more than once.

‘You’ve got so much buried in there, and you push it down, and you push it down. Do you honestly think that you can go through life like that and not freak out?’ - Lisa to Dean.

And while Dean had a shot at a normal life (I personally see a lot of plot holes revolving around his ‘year off’ from hunting with Lisa and Ben) the Job kept coming back, as did his responsibility to his Brother. They’re not your typical Brotherly bond; turns out they’re destined for it. If you’re familiar with Buffy, she couldn’t dodge destiny either no matter how much she tried. And it cost her the normal relationship and starting a family like most other people.

In truth though, I’d say Dean is Sam’s favourite person... But anywho.

As for the rest of it, well that’s a yes and no. Dean has friends - supernatural friends. And even those who are human are usually Hunters of some kind. So his friendships are not typical of normal society. A whole other bag, if you ask me.

#; marked by angels : about dean #[ notes might be useful if you are or are not familiar with him as a character ]#[ I also just wanna specify why I think this result might have came up ]#[ Honestly? There is SO MUCH I could put in this ]#[ keeping it simple ]

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angstymarshmallow · 5 years

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part seven - “give me a sign.” (cal lowell x mc)

[a little note: I’ve been wracking my brain on this for two weeks now and I think...I think this is where I want it to be. It’s a bit different than what I imagined originally for a crossover and is loosely based off that particular bloodbound chapter. I mean like why are action sequences so hard and there will be a secondary piece of more crossover time in the next part! Can you believe this is still going on? And we’re not even at the end yet. If you read it - than you! If you leave a comment, bless you!.]

[words counted: 7600]

[summary: While MC (Wren) heads to New York in hopes of finding Cal, Cal tries to come to terms with what he wants vs. what he can’t have. Trapped in Kavinsky’s makeshift prison, he can only count on himself. Little does he know, Wren and the most unlikely allies are here to break him out of this hellhole].

[part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six]

The trip to New York was short, but it’s been one anxious moment after another during the several hours she’s been locked in her seat – peering at the clouds from her window as late afternoon gradually became night. For someone like Wren whose spent most of her life being unperturbed by nearly everything, it says a lot. There isn’t a great deal of things capable of making her anxious.

Still, her anxiety is half the problem and the other half is completely fixated on Cal. He’s all alone out there.

She tries to picture his boyish smile, the light flush in his cheeks when she teases him or the warmth in his laughter – but the images quickly fizzle out at the thought of anyone hurting him. I swear to god if that asshole harms one fucking hair on his head –

She would do anything to have him safely in her arms again.

Wren inhales deeply, sagging against her seat as the plane comes to an almost complete stop. It won’t be long now. She’s supposed to be meeting with Nik’s contacts as soon as she’s out of here.

Keep it together. Just keep it together.

She tries to push him out of her thoughts, but he funnels through. She can’t stop thinking about him, and her mind will end up thinking the worst at the rate things are going. Checking the time on her watch, she sighs and relents to resting her head against her seat. She peers at the plane’s ceiling.

Focus on something else.

She wracks her brain, absently tapping the screen of her phone.

Adrian Raines. Kamilah Sayeed. Jax Matsuo. Lily Spencer. Harlow Daniels.

She mulls over their names as the pilot exchanges his farewell across the intercom.

Only half of them vaguely rings a bell, but the latter are a mystery as far as she’s concerned. Who were they beyond what the media reports?

They’re supposed to meet, and yet she has no idea what meeting with them will entail. Vampires of all the things. In the flesh. Fangs and all. There’s a quiet kind of exhilaration at the knowledge that they’re real, that she’s really meeting a bunch of bloodsuckers. Hell, even a year later – the supernatural world still continues to catch her off guard.

It’s only a shame that they haven’t exactly been forthright about anything else. None of the people she’s meeting tonight have expunged any information as to what they need from Kavinsky, but she’s assumed as much that they must have bene looking for something specific. He was after all – a glorified artist that collected the highest quality of merchandises.

But people aren’t merchandise.

Scowling, Wren wrenches her seatbelt free. The thought infuriates her.

She steps in front of an elderly woman without thinking and flinches before making enough for her to pass. Muttering a stiff apology, she follows the rest of the crowd out of the airplane shaft.

A swift vibration emanating from her pocket has her glancing down in time to catch a glimpse of Danny’s name floating across the top screen of her phone. She quickly swipes it free, thinking the worst until she’s able to read his entire message.

There were some wolves poking around earlier. They smelled weird but Pete sent them packing before we realized they’re apart of Shaw’s pack. He’s kinda in bad shape but Nick, Theo and Sabine are fine. Just wanted to check in that you got to NY okay.

A pause before another message pops up.

Not that I care or anything.

Wren hides a smile behind her smirk. The little shit does care about her.

She’d be lying if she said the idea doesn’t lift her spirits – even a little at the thought, but she knows better than to make a big deal out of it. At least not right now. She can always tease them later when their lives aren’t in danger anymore.

Ah hell, who’s she kidding? Their lives will always be in some level of danger.

Tapping her fingers lightly against the screen, Wren tries to think of a response.

Heard you loud and clear kid. I got here fine and I’m about to meet with Nik’s associates.

She waits a beat before adding.

Then we’ll find Cal and we’ll be back before you even know it.

He doesn’t say thank you in so many words but she can tell he’s grateful for her reassurance. Before Wren is able to pocket her phone safely into her jacket, another text dings and flits across her screen.

Good. Stay safe.

You too kid.

Taking a deep breath in hopes of settling her nerves, Wren manages a sharp nod at the security that ushers her through. If she has anything to say about it – they’ll be back home in no time.

The place they’ve agreed to meet her seems a little far off the normal radar. Well, normal radar being – not dark, dingy and creepy. Although, she’s been to her fair share of sketchy places, she’d feel much better if they were meeting in Time’s Square instead of backstreets leading into abandoned alleyways.

At least she has a switchblade with her.

Still, the side streets and corners with flickering lights all but scream serial killer.

This is where psychos kidnap or knock out the few people dumb enough to travel out on their own. But Wren isn’t just some random idiot taking a shortcut home – she’s here for a reason. And she’s hellbent on finding Cal, no matter how long it takes. No matter what it costs.

Besides, Nik’s one of the few people she trusts and a favor is a favor after all.

However, Wren still finds her anxiety getting the best of her. Her thoughts are ridiculously stuck on things out of her control as she toys with the brunt edges of her blade between her fingers. After a few minutes, she checks the time on her phone.

They’re late.

It isn’t until the sound of light footsteps coming from the long-winding alleyway does some of her anxiety finally began to chip away. She glances up and notices shadows casting sinewy figures across the cobblestone pavement in time. They belong to five people. The closer they grow, the more she’s able to discern their appearance and what she sees – has her whistling in soft appreciation under her breath.

They’re seriously good-looking – not that she thinks she’s ever seen an unattractive vampire before, but her eyes can’t help but be drawn to each of them, as if against her own will. It’s almost close to indescribable when it comes to how enthralling they appear at this distance.

The first is a well-dressed gentleman with an almost bronze look to his skin as his intense-looking obsidian eyes meet her stare. He’s taller than the rest of his cohorts. She feels trapped by his gaze somehow and she sucks in a breath when her lungs fight for one. Seconds pass before his gaze travels south – to the rest of her. When he finally breaks eye contact, she manages to scope out the rest of him with something akin to a relieved sigh.

He’s in a grey suit that’s way too fancy for this part of New York. His dark and thick hair has been sleeked back as a stiff grin settles and draws her attention to the sharpness of his cheekbones.

The woman a few paces beside him wears her own expensive-looking suit as well. Although hers’ is several shades of dark purple – not quite the colour of licorice but not quite anything else either, she possesses such an air of authority that Wren fights with the sudden urge to sink her gaze to the floor. The woman drags a tanned and flawlessly manicured hand through her long and almost oakwood-coloured hair. Something in her penetrating stare causes gooseflesh to break-out across Wren’s skin.

The third person stands a little off to the side and heaves a mean-looking crossbow across her back. Unlike the other two, she doesn’t radiate an ounce of unfriendliness. She seems to be the exact opposite down from the laid-back way she’s dressed. Her dark eyes and skin are a stunning comparison to her lavender-style braids. She sticks out from the people in suits – but in the best way possible. She tosses a few of her braids across her shoulder before waving at her.

The remaining two stand a little closer together from the rest. Wren can’t help but think there’s something more between them than just simple business partners as she diverts to their attention. In fact, the taller of the two seems to almost glare suspiciously at her as he places a protective arm around the secondary person.

He’s the one that deserves Wren’s own glare in response. He’s wearing a dark crimson jacket that isn’t even his colour and tight-fitting jeans that seem a little outdated compared to the rest of his companions. But it’s his protective arm loosely tucked to the woman’s side that’s convinced her there’s definitely something more. Her eyes follow the length of his shoulders and she nearly does a double-take.

Is that…is that a katana?

His jet-black hair nearly obscures his dark eyes, but Wren is still preoccupied at staring in awe at the sword that’s strapped across his back. What I wouldn’t give for one of those.

It isn’t until the much smaller and wiry framed woman nestled beside him steps forward that she finally breaks eye contact.

Her bangs are even longer than her counterpart, but she wears it with in such a fashionable style that Wren is barely able to tell the difference in length. She’s dressed just as impeccable as her partners, but unlike the rest of them – there isn’t as much of an otherworldly-ness to her. She doesn’t have the same likeness that makes them a vampire. Still, something about her remains vaguely familiar despite Wren being unable to put her finger on it.

Apprehension makes the air around them shudder and Wren shifts uncomfortably on her feet from the sudden awareness of the terse atmosphere.

If their intentions aren’t as sincere as she hopes, she’d severely outmatched and a complete dumbass for meeting them alone. Even with her half-working fae powers at best, nothing can prepare her for taking on a bunch of vampires on. They’re ridiculously stronger than any average human, and as much as she’s fae – the rest of her is still human.

Steeling quiet resolve, Wren forces a smile at the sign of their approach. They’re a few feet away now and she has to convey complete confidence. You’re in control Wren, you’re in control. Not some meek-minded weak person. Although she’s looking for information, she can’t give them the idea she’s desperate. “I heard you’re the people that I’m looking for.” She inclines her head.

“Maybe, that really depends on you.” The guy with the crimson jacket grunts, his hand on his weapon.

The woman that’s been beside him this entire time, shoots him a sudden look. Then she straightens herself upright, the ruffles of her blouse crinkling at the motion. “I take it you’re Wren Howell, right?”

“Yup. And you’re…Nik’s associates.” Wren makes a gesture at them.

They’ve gradually grown closer and she can make out a gleam in one of their eyes.

“That’s correct. He mentioned you were looking for information.” The particularly fancy grey suit has folded his arms. His eyes are carefully neutral, which Wren suspects is something he does quite often when he’s assessing someone.

“Actually, I’m not just looking for information. I’m looking for someone. Cal. Cal Lowell.” She says his name a-matter-of-factly. “And I heard you may know how I can find him.” She takes a deep breath in an effort to keep her voice even. Although, she’s desperate to find him, she refuses to break down in front of a bunch of strangers. “I know you’re all meeting Landgon Kavinsky.” Her gaze steadily flits across to every one of them, pausing to emphasize the depth of her words. “And I know Cal’s last whereabouts were through him.” She hesitates before adding, “a couple night ago if I’m being completely honest. They had a meeting,” she continues steadily, the blade between her fingers moving more rapidly. “And no one’s seen or heard him since.”

The man in the crimson jacket whistles. “You sure don’t like to waste any time, do you? I kinda like that.”

“Me too.” The lavendair-haired woman chirps, flashing Wren a wide smile.

“Lily, we’re here to discuss something important – not flirt with our new guest.” Another one of the women chimes in; the shortest of all three with a bemused expression flitting across her face.

Lily pouts and Wren wrestles against the abrupt urge to smile. “I don’t see a point in beating around the bush. Time isn’t something I have a lot of, and I don’t want to spend precious seconds here when I could be looking for him out there.” She jerks her chin behind them.

For a few seconds, no one spoke.

Something in Wren’s chest tightens. “Look,” her voice cracks a little and she winces at the sound. “You can obviously tell that I care about the guy. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me something.” The switchblade within her grip moves a little faster – from finger to finger, “my gut is telling me that he’s in danger and I need to find him.” Her gut feelings have rarely – if ever been wrong before.

Grey-suit folds his arms while his brows arches to seemingly contemplate her words. Scrutinizing his expression, he breaks the quiet tenseness in the air first. “Harlow, you didn’t mention any of this.” He cuts his attention to the shortest of the two women in front of Wren.

The woman – Harlow, pinches her expression together as her lips thin into a faint frown. Cautiously, she peers back at him. “Sorry Adrian, I didn’t realize it was this serious. Nik wasn’t keen on so many details other than a name and Mr. Kavinsky’s usual meeting places.” She bites her low lip.

“So, you do know Kavinsky then?” Wren interrupts impatiently.

The other woman – tallest of all three who has yet to speak, suddenly bristles. Every length of her seems to stiffen. Her eyes narrow into slits as she speaks up, abruptly interjecting before Harlow is able to assemble any sense of an answer. “We may or may not, although that doesn’t explain why we should divulge such delicate information.” There’s an emphasis on her words and Wren detects a hint of a slight slur – fairly unlike any accent she has ever heard before.

“Kamilah!” Harlow’s face goes a little pale but Adrian seems to consider the other woman’s words carefully – he strokes his chin.

Kamilah snorts and crosses her arms. “You certainly can’t blame me. After all, we’ve only just met and I’m merely stating the obvious.”

Wren tenses. She gets it, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. If circumstances were reserved, she wouldn’t be necessarily jumping at the opportunity to help. But she’s the one that needs their assistance – so she bites her tongue and shifts on her feet.

“She has every reason to be cautious. How do we know we can trust you?” Adrian tilts his chin, eyes glimmering from ashen black into twinges of deep red against the dark backdrop of the dim city lights.

“And how do we know we can’t?” Lily cuts in.

“This is no small favour.” Adrian meets Lily’s sudden frown until she drops her stare. “This isn’t just some stranger without a single pull in the city. We ‘re talking about – Mr. Lavinsky and he’s the kind of man no one should cross lightly.”

“I’m not asking for you to cross him,” Wren fights to keep her tone steady, but it’s hard. Every second she wastes standing here talking is another second Cal remains missing. “I’m asking for you to let me come along – let me find him on my own.”

“Like hell we will!” Kamilah snarls, baring her teeth.

The other vampire, whom Wren presumes to be Jax seem to echo her sentiment with a derisive snort, and his hand that’s rested on his weapon has turned white as he shoots Wren a glare. Although, both Harlow and Adrian seem to hesitate – glancing at their companions uneasily, it’s Kamilah who keeps pursing it. “This is not up for discussion. Absolutely not. You would jeopardize everything we’re trying to accomplish.”

“– you said you wanted information where he was – not that you wanted to come with us.” Jax adds, frowning.

Wren takes a deep breath, “okay fair. But you don’t get it. It’s for him. For Cal.” It’s always been for him. “I shouldn’t have let him go alone in the first place. I should’ve –” Her voice trembles a little, “dammit! He just shouldn’t have gone alone!” Her free hand clenches into a tight fist and suddenly she’s left with fighting the urge to hit something. “I should be there because when you love someone – there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them. So that’s why I’m here,” she spreads her arms out wide. “Standing and barely capable of holding it together at the thought of him being out there – alone.” She jerks her chin, “because that asshole locked him up.”

“You don’t know that.” Adrian’s brow furrows. “Mr. Kavinsky has never been the sort to add living people into his collections. That blurs all kinds of lines –”

“I’m not here to argue with you.” Wren interjects, jutting her chin out stubbornly. “I’m only here on a hunch and I don’t need the details of what you’re all doing here.” Okay, she’d love to know but that’s besides the point.

“Nik sent me, and like he said – you owe him one. These were his terms.” She makes a point of staring directly at Adrian and feels some satisfaction in noting a slight grimace in his appearance. She’ll definitely have to thank Nik later. If there is a later anyway. “And you don’t strike me as the type of person to go behind their word.”

“No.” Adrian sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. “I am usually a man of my word.” He turns his attention to Kamilah and Jax, “we need to take her with us.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Kamilah says curtly, shaking her head. “She could jeopardize everything.”

“Or she could help us.” Jax adds, his brow creasing in thought.

“Are we all on team Wren now?” Lily asks, bumping Jax’s arm.

Kamilah arches an eyebrow. “…..what makes you think we can even trust her?”

“…Uh, hello?” Wren waves a hand wildly in front of them, breaking shifting all their attention back on her. She gestures down at herself. “I’m still here. I didn’t just fade out of existence.”

“We can’t.” Adrian answers evenly, glancing objectively back at Kamilah. “Not with absolute certainty.”

“Hey!” Wren presses her fingers to her lips and whistle. “Listen, you can trust me enough because Nik sent me here.” Wren grumbles hotly, drawling out his name to emphasize her point.

If Adrian’s heard her, he makes a note of blatantly ignoring her outburst. The bastard.

Sure enough, within seconds Adrian lowers his voice until Wren can barely make out his words or what anyone else is saying.

Huffing a breath, Wren settles for balefully watching them instead. She taps her feet impatiently. Every now and then, they glance in her general direction and she opens her mouth to speak before they glance away and her mouth snaps back shut.

Ugh, I don’t have time for this. Clearing her throat, Wren glares at them. “As interesting as this has been, if you aren’t going to help me then we’re wasting each other’s time and I’ve got someone to save.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Harlow breaks the tenseness in the air first, her smile – alarmingly cool for someone that’s been mostly quiet this entire time. Her steady voice seems to put the others at ease too as she gestures between them. “We’re on board with taking you with us. We know exactly where Cal was taken.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Kamilah intercedes, pursing her lips.

“I do,” Harlow suddenly retrieves a phone and points at the screen. “Because he suddenly decided to change our meeting spot and something tells me it’s where Cal is.”

Wren swallows back her sudden excitement. “Great.” She’s close – so close in finding him, so close in seeing him again. She takes a few steps towards them as Harlow taps across her phone’s screen. “When do we leave? Tomorrow night?” She’s hoping it won’t take anymore time. She’s itching for a fight.

“No. It’s happening tonight.”

Blood.

The smell of it is heavy and pungent in the air. It’s not just his blood either. There’s a mix of all sorts in here – supernatural creatures that has no business being locked up and tucked away from the rest of the world. And no matter what Cal does – there’s no escaping from it.

His eyes snap open with a gasp until he realizes he’s still cuffed and in chains, as the rest of details from the last several days come rushing back to him. Again.

Although he knows it’s futile, he wrestles against the metallic material across his wrists until his struggles turn into shaking, and the stupid thing administers another jolt of shock into his system. Another painful fucking reminder that he’s trapped.

The wolf in him whelps and practically seethes but the rest of Cal settles for gritting his teeth to prevent himself from yelping out loud. Fuck, he won’t ever give them that satisfaction. He wets his cracked dry lips as he sniffs the foul atmosphere; trying desperately to pick up any hints as to a way out of here but when nothing sticks out to him – he settles for slamming his fists against the glass – hoping feebly that his wolf strength won’t fail him now.

But it does fail him. He’s hungry, practically ravenous for something and his footing slips as he staggers against the surface.

He hears the sound of barely contained and muffled laughter. He growls. The least these assholes can do is feed him regularly but he supposes Kavinsky knows enough of werewolf physiology that feeding him more than a little does wonders for his strength. If he even has a little more, he’d be able to do something more than howl and shove his shoulders and fists fruitlessly against it.

Slamming his fist again, Cal manages another hard punch before slumping down the floor. He hugs his knees and leans his head back until it’s able to rest across the glass’ seemingly impenetrable surface. It’s no use. There’s no way he’s getting out of here.

Cal has spent the last few days trying to scratch, break, punch his way through the thick walls of his prison. But nothing’s changed. There’s no dent in the wall. No cracks in the glass because they know he’s not strong enough to do anything more. He’s not going to escape – Kavinsky built all these in a way that makes the idea laughable at best but still, Cal hopes.

His hope carries him to sleep. It deludes him into thinking he’ll wake up the next day in the comfort of his home – surrounded by people who love him. Donny and his petulant frowns whenever he’d scold him. Wren’s smirk or the mischievous glint she gets in her eyes whenever they’ve been left alone. I miss them. And the absence of their presence has left him cold all over.

He wedges his eyes close, tries to fight a panic attack with simple breathing. The wolf in him isn’t satisfied though, he snarls and tries to take control. But the cuffs around his wrist quickly remind him there’s no hope of him getting out.

Fuck – if he could only get these things off.

When Cal’s eyes flutter open, and he heaves a sigh. He’s never getting out of here. They narrow into slits a second later when the light above his head suddenly flickers then dies out. He stands a little straighter, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking as something in his gut implores that something is strong. Ignoring the abrupt panic seizing his chest, Cal presses his hands across the glass while he waits anxiously for something to happen.

The lights make a soft humming noise as they flicker back on.

What the hell was that? His ears perk at the abrupt and nearly muffled sounds of footsteps, followed by the rapid shouting voices. He can’t make them out yet – they’re still too far away. But he does gather through keenly listening that there’s some kind of a commotion going on. And by the sounds of it, it’s definitely something Kavinsky hadn’t expect.

Good, that bastard deserves everything that’s coming to him.

If only Cal wasn’t stuck in here and while all the action out there made him itch to try sifting again. If only he didn’t have these stupid cuffs on. If only he could do something more than stare miserably at the door, hanging onto every sound –

The cuffs around his wrist suddenly go slack and Cal blinks down at them in surprise. Something tells him not to wait – he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d rather count his blessings than take them for granted and he clenches his hands into fists – squeezing tightly before pushing them several inches apart from each other.

Snap.

He breaks free and what’s left of the metal is littered across his feet.

Stretching out his wrists for a moment, Cal grins. They’re still raw from how long his skin has been chafing but at least they’re free now. At least he’s free. Whatever’s out there – that’s where his concern should be. But instead of focusing on the qualms of what’s behind the door – his other half is practically straining against his rational side to be free.

He doesn’t waste any more time. With a howl, Cal sheds his human form and embraces the wolf with eager and wild abandon. Hunching over slightly; it takes seconds for the familiar rush of adrenaline to envelop his senses – to wrap him in an overwhelming sense of joy at finally being able to shift again. His pulse turns erratic while his bones crack and reforms themselves into place. Russet-coloured fur rapidly replaces where skin and he launches himself at the window – a streak of dark brown that shatters the glass barrier on contact.

The pieces fall at his feet.

Cal pauses long enough to howl and deeply inhale the heavy atmosphere.

There’s a change in the air and it spells something bad. Or good. He can’t decide. He doesn’t have complete focus like this, his instinct has almost completely taken over. The fact that his body is shaking in excitement but remains unmoving is a miracle of itself. His nose twitches as he inhales again, deeper this time – and there is a lot to find familiar.

There’s the unpleasant stuff that’s not easy miss – the dried blood of torture, the smell of unwashed people left alone for far too long. And the heavy odor of security’s body spray. But not all of it makes sense – some of what he’s able to smell is ridiculously strange. Another whiff of it allows Cal to realize the scent of blood isn’t merely the kind of creatures locked away – there’s fighting going on and the sickly odd smell happens to be bloodsuckers. His fur stands at ends with the rest of his body.

But there’s one - one familiar scent in the entire universe that he never thought he’d be able to enjoy again. Especially not after ending things.

No fucking way. It can’t be her.

But he knows her scent. He knows it so damn well because he’s spent a lot of time committing her to memory. He’s spent so much time running his tongue across her skin, nibbling her most sensitive spots, burying his lips by the crook of her shoulders, by her inner thighs – there’s no way he can ever forget her and suddenly he can’t wait to get out of here.

With another low growl, Cal hastily bounds to the door. There’s no sense in trying the lock, he simply paws at it – claws crunching the metal, until he’s able to administer one hard shove.t

The door bursts wide open.

It looks like he’s made it just in time.

Their plan worked.

Wren wants to laugh in disbelief but she’s too preoccupied with fighting against the wave of security to stay alive. She can’t give anything more than a momentary we-did-it yell inside her mind before there’s another asshole to clock in the head.

She ducks under the arm of her current assailant and deftly switches the hand of her switchblade. She wipes alongside the length of his beefy arm. The man cries out in pain and Wren takes the opportunity in stride, knocking him flat on his ass by shoving the brunt of her palm towards his chin.

Another guard manages to land a solid punch to her jaw and Wren fights against the sudden stab of pain. Gritting her teeth, she spins away as he titters forward to push on the offensive. She utters a harsh battle cry and feints right, landing a front kick to the chest before his entire body goes flying.

A third guard slams into her, knocking her to the floor. Her back arches in pain and she hisses as the man tries to press his palms into her neck. Choking, Wren head-butts him, almost seeing stars but it isn’t enough to throw him off.

Suddenly he cries out and stops moving. Shoving him off her, Wren kicks him for good effort as she spots two arrows lodged firmly into his chest. Surprised, she glances up in time to notice Lily’s thumbs up before she spins away to strike another security guard.

From across the room, the crimson jacket vampire tosses his katana with breakneck speed towards another guard that seemed to be seconds away from grabbing Harlow’s arm. It lands almost directly in the base of his skull and Harlow yells a word of thanks before gripping the hilt of the sharp weapon and yanking it out.

A hair length away Kamilah has already dealt with a handful of security, dancing in and out of their reach as the set of her elegantly tipped daggers follow the motion. Her eyes are terrifyingly beautiful; dark red – glimmering in delight as another guard falls to her feet. She throws a wink over her shoulder when she spots Wren watching.

“Duck!”

Acting on instinct, Wren listens to the commanding voice and watches in awe as Adrian practically sails across her head. He’s launched himself at two enemies, burying his fangs into their neck as they scream in pain.

Holy shit, they’re amazing.

The group in front of her aren’t just business associates. They aren’t just friends either. They’re well-oiled machine, stepping into place to defend and attack on each other’s behalf. If one doesn’t make a killing blow – another person is suddenly there to aid them, and Wren does everything she can to keep pace with their efficiency.

A sudden howl fills the air in the middle of all this chaos. Her heart skips a beat at the sound. There’s only one wolf that sounds like that. Powerful. Magnetic. It’s not like she could ever forget his voice – wolf or human.

Without thinking she raises her chin – just in time to spot all eight hundred pounds of lycan bustling from out of the hall and sending the rest of people scattering in his wake. Screams fill the air and there almost isn’t place Wren looks without a splatter of blood.

His bright amber eyes meet hers for a moment, softening before hardening again at guards still left alive. A howl rumbles and escapes his throat.

Wren watches a little mystified at the immeasurable speed he’s able to strike – muscles that bunch together and ripple beneath his fur with every movement. His razor-sharp claws slice through thin air as though he knows exactly where they’ll be before they even know it. The sounds of complete agony fill the re room and become loud enough to drone out the erratic pacing of Wren’s own heartbeat.

The screaming quickly turns into silence.

Wren wipes the worst of the blood off of her face.

The adrenaline is still flooding her veins at an incredible rate and it doesn’t take her long to cross the space between left them – her heart hammering wildly in her chest again, every step of the way. It’s him. It’s really him.

She can scarcely believe it. But he is – right here.

He bounds loftily towards her – fur practically trembling from anxiety.

She can’t hear what he’s thinking but radiates worry, fear. “I’m here. I’m really here Cal.” She wants to reassure him but her voice chokes on the words. “And you’re okay, god I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Are those tears?

Something wet has touched her cheeks but she doesn’t care, he’s here.

Cal drops to his hind legs and his large forearms cocoon her to his chest.

The heat is a blissful, welcoming feeling, like the furnace he always is – it takes no time for her to feel his heat all the way down to her toes.

He lets out a deep hum as she buries her fingers into his mane.

Seconds pass before the fur she’s been stroking turns to soft skin. His skin is slicked with sweat and he’s almost too hot for her fingers to wince in return, but to Wren it’s still the greatest feeling in the world. He’s back where he belongs – he’s home.

Wren squeezes her eyes shut and buries her lips into the crook of his neck as he effortlessly lifts her off her feet. The sudden motion makes her fumble and nearly lose her footing, but the rest of her body reacts almost steadfast – clinging onto him tightly as an abrupt and startled laugh leaves her throat.

Usually, she hates when he does that – hates it more when she cries, especially in front of him – let alone the audience she’s all but forgotten in her haste to get to him. She hates what she’s doing now even more, trembling at his touch and muttering non-stop through ardent words of how much she’s missed him – missed them.

But she does it all the same, because the words keep leaving her lips without her thinking – without her censoring any of it. She’s shaking so much with relief that when he lifts her higher, all she has is an eyeful of his breathtaking smile – and it’s as if she’s staring into richly intense sunshine.

Warm-eyes, like the colour of soil flecked with black and gold don’t waver from her stare. They’re just an enthralled. Then he bumps his forehead affectionately against hers’, pressing his sweaty brow and whispering softly under his breath. “I love you too.”

What?

Her heart leaps. A hysterical laugh bubbles from her throat.

Is that the only take-away he’s gotten from what she’s said?

Then she says it again, only because he’s smiling at her and she wants to keep commit it to memory. “I love you – you idiot.” She repeats it a third time and then again, cupping one of his cheeks as her own cheeks suddenly grow hot – flushed by the sincerity behind her words.

“Does that mean we’re no longer broken up?” His eyes search hers’ uncertaintly.

She manages a shaky laugh. “I think Nik wants his couch back, and I can’t even manage a whole week without you let alone a whole lifetime.” She doesn’t care if they have an audience, she can’t stand the idea of not touching him any longer – of not sinking into him the way she’s thought of ever since he left.

Greedy fingers quickly tangle in his hair. It’s matted and sweaty but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because it’s still Cal. Her Cal. Her mate.

She has all of him in front of her and the last she wants to do turn away from something so fruitless. She yanks him closer, impatient to have more than just him looking at her with clear adoration clouding his eyes – she needs to feel him, to really feel him. She has to show him how much she really loves him.

The kiss is hot and demanding.

God, she’d forgotten how much she melts under his lips. They’re rough and coarse – but they’re everything. She’s on cloud nine, swimming with happiness and relief all melded into one. Fuck, how had she managed to let him go? To let this go?

She grips him tighter as his fingers drift into a downward trail across her hips and then her thighs. He hooks his hands there as she wraps her legs scantily around him, hiking the length of her pants when his fingers dig into the garment.

He moans low in his throat.

It’s a sound that makes heat coil in her belly and painfully aware how long it’s been since she’s had him, naked and panting in their bedroom – since she’s seen the face he makes when he comes inside her. At this angle she can feel every bit of how much he’s missed her too.

God. He is real. And she’s never letting him go again. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s stuck with her – for good this time.

The sudden clear of someone’s throat behind them has grounded Wren back into reality. She blinks and then reluctantly pulls away. Before he sets her on her feet again, she watches in mild satisfaction at how quickly his eyes darken once they linger on her face.

Taking off her jacket, Wren hastily ties it around his lean hips as all eyes remain rooted in their direction.

Before she can step away, Cal snakes a hand loosely around her waist and keeps her tucked at safely at his side. “I think I’m missing something here.” He doesn’t relax completely. He tilts his chin and sniffs the air. “Bloodsuckers.”

“Good, bloodsuckers –” Wren elbows him. “If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have found you.”

Kamilah wipes her daggers clean and raises one critical eyebrow. “The least you can do is say thanks, pup.”

Cal’s stiffens.

“I think what Kamilah means to say is,” Harlow holds up her hands, smiling hesitantly at Cal’s decisively protective stance. “We wanted to help.” Jax appears by her side as she speaks, rubbing blood absently off her arm. “The idea of anyone suffering in some place like this is sickening and wrong.” Her face twists. “It seems that our information on Mr. Kavinsky wasn’t all what it’s cracked up to be anyway.”

“You didn’t find what you were looking for?” Wren asks, dragging her eyes away from Cal. If only for a moment. The least she should do is properly thank them.

A look passes between all four of them. Ah. They definitely aren’t going to share that kind of information with her – which makes her want to know even more. What exactly are they hiding?

“While I think introductions are in order,” Adrian lips curve in slight amusement, breaking Wren out of her wayward thoughts. “I believe we should probably head out of here. We did let go all those other people too. They’re probably destroying the place as we speak.”

“Wait, what?” Cal’s mouth hangs open for a moment before just as swiftly snapping shut.

As if to emphasize his point, the entire ground floor begins shaking.

“Yeah, you’ve missed a lot.” Wren pats his arm.

Lily’s the only one that’s still staring as if struck in awe. “You’re a werewolf?” She pauses to think, “well – I mean I saw you. But I still can’t really believe it.” She smiles, “I have so many questions.”

“Before you ask – no werewolves do not go into heat.” Cal’s tone is almost deadpanned.

“And it’s definitely not the time Lil.” Although, Harlow laughs as she says it.

“God, I know so many fanfic authors that’d be disappointed.”

“Who are you again?” His brow furrows.

“I’ll fill you in on the way.” Wren mutters, grabbing his arm. Although she hesitates, and drops her gaze down the length of his body – almost drawing in a shaky breath at how visibly stunning he is.

Gaah. A part of her wants nothing more than to pry that jacket off him, but the rest of her realizes she’ll have to wait. Although, she has a peculiar feeling that it’ll be worth it – it still takes a tremendous amount of effort not to jump him right then and there. “I uh -,” a spot of color touches her cheeks as she glances away. “I brought some clothes with me.” Then she clears her throat, turning back to smirk at him. “But feel free to walk around naked on my account.” She gestures to him, “I certainly won’t stop you.”

His confident smile falters and he bashfully glances down at his feet before chuckling. “I’ll take my chances with the clothes this time.” He shifts his attention briefly towards the rest of their little group. Already, they’ve started dispersing after checking the security feeds. “Thank you,” he says earnestly.

“You should be thanking her” Jax jerks his chin towards Wren. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Cal bends slightly to bump his forehead affectionately against hers’. “Thank you.”

“Never scare me like that again.” She says the words seriously but her stomach still flips at his heart-felt gesture. “And you can thank me properly when we’re all safely outside.”

He breaks out into a grin. “Deal.”

Giving his hand a light squeeze, Wren returns the smile before fixing Adrian with raised eyebrows and a very important question. “Now how the hell are we supposed to get out –”

“I’ve already got us covered.” Lily interjects, tucking several braids behind her ear. She’s been tapping through something on her phone for the last several seconds before glancing up with a confident smile. “Just follow me.”

By the time they’ve left, the building is almost in ruins. From the outside, it looks nearly the same – a few missing pieces of brick and cracked windows, but these are the only telltale signs of destruction. However, on the inside – most of Kavinsky’s collections have either been stolen, broken or severely disfigured.

It’s a pity he isn’t among what’s left behind. Even if he was still alive – Kavinsky has multiple targets on his back.

Cal doesn’t think he’ll re-surface anytime soon, but he’d have liked giving that asshole a piece of his mind.

The rest of his mind has more important matters to contend with – he’s alive and he vows never to take that for granted ever again. He can scarcely believe it himself, after the last couple days he’s had – trapped in the prison of a madman.

But he’s not there anymore – or is he? How is being in the company of strangers any better? He doesn’t know them and they’ve offered him a place for the night, a place for both of them.

For a moment, Cal was beginning to think escaping was some sort of fever dream. How else can he explain the absence of cuffs on his wrists? The uneasy happiness filling his chest? Did he ever leave? Or was he so lost in his delusion that he’d concoct this whole reality?

The last time he’s seen her, she wasn’t nestled by his side the way she is now – she was throwing accusations at him. How can he believe his own eyes, or listen to his heart after everything he’s been through?

Cal feels soft fingers cupping his chin, forcing his gaze from the window and unto the softest expression of pure love he’s ever seen from her face.

It’s like she can tell his thoughts are spiraling and having her touch helps to ground him back into reality. His eyes flutter close of their own accord as she leans into him.

“You’re okay.” She says the words gently, “we’re okay.”

He listens to the sound of her voice, allowing its gentleness to creep back into his heart. She’s right. He isn’t back here, he’s with her – with the only person he’s ever loved. Fuck, it feels so good to have her here.

“Wren,” his voice cracks and she’s looking up at him again. There’s a lot he wants to say, a lot that they haven’t said. Where do they go from here?

He’s still the alpha.

She loves him but he’s still the alpha.

As far as he’s concerned nothing’s really changed.

In any other reality – maybe things could have been different. Maybe he could shirk from his responsibilities and ride into the sunset with her; build a life together - separate from all this chaos in NOLA. But he thinks about Donny and his last year in school. He thinks about those kids from Shaw’s pack and all the other people counting on him.

“We can talk later.” She promises.

He swallows past the sudden lump in his throat and forces a smile of gratitude. This isn’t the time or place for that kind of conversation, but staring deeply into those deeply warm eyes – Cal wants to put her first.

And that, perhaps is the most dangerous and scariest knowledge of it all.

#cal x mc #cal x mc fanfic #cal lowell fanfiction #cal lowell #playchoices #nightbound #nightbound fanfiction #choices stories you play #cal x wren #cal lowell x wren howell #playchoices fanfiction #choices fanfiction #long post #we're seven parts in #and i figured out a title name lol #maybe i should run it by you guys #an angstymarshmallow writes

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ofheroesandvillains · 5 years

Text

Changing Gears 2 - Tony Stark

Tony Stark/Fem!reader Words: 3.8k Warnings: None really, mentions of “The Cave”. Summary: I said one for each movie and I lied. Don’t trust me…ever. Here’s another for Ironman 1! It’s kind of all over the place. Let me know if it’s trash, it’s been a loooong time.

(not my gif!)

Fear.

Fear wasn’t foreign to you. Your earliest encounter with it came at age 4. Now remember, you stay where I can see you, your father had said, and under no circumstances are you to go in the water without letting an adult know. He’d given you a stern look, one that seemed more at home on Howard’s face than his own. Understood? He’d asked, and you’d nodded.

But things never really go the way they’re supposed to. One minute you’re on the shoreline, digging a little pool into the wet sand, the next, the water is sweeping you away into its cold embrace and you’re left bobbing between the waves. The floaties kept you up, sure, but with each passing second the tide had carried you further and further from the shore, and your desperate cries for your father went unheard.

Or at least you thought they had.

“Hey, it’s alright, I got you. Just- just hold onto me, okay?”

He had no idea how to comfort a wailing child, but even at age 12, Tony Stark did the best he could. What seemed like miles to you (and was more likely a few feet), was quickly wadded through by the boy you’d only met once before.

He didn’t tell your father. It was a lesson learned and you were just a kid, he’d be damned if anyone punished you for their own neglect. You looked terrified and clung to him like a koala, he hadn’t left your side for the rest of the day. That was the day you became his friend. That was the day he became your hero.

---------

That seemed so silly now…drowning. How could the fear of drowning possibly compare to this?

If you took every fear you’d ever felt, stacked them on top of each other and played them in a never-ending loop in your mind for the rest of your life, it’d be a welcome change to the absolute terror that had seized your heart the moment you’d been notified of Tony’s disappearance.

Naturally, the media had lost its mind as soon as a statement was released. Posters, social media, tabloids, the news; everyone was talking about Tony Stark - the billionaire, the genius, the national icon, in the hands of ‘the enemy’. Activists were saying ‘good riddance’, and weeping fans littered the daily news channels, mourning a man they’d never known…a man who you couldn’t -wouldn’t- believe was really gone.

He’s Tony Stark, you’d remind yourself, there’s nothing he can’t do.

Realistically, you knew that the chances of his survival were slim. Your overactive mind had already tried to calculate the odds before you forced it to focus elsewhere. There was still a company to run, reporters to avoid, a billionaire to find.

Pepper took care of the first two for you, but only you could help with the last. She’d been great, Pepper. A godsend. There were hardly any fumes left for you to run on. Sweeping the planet for any sign of Tony was draining; mentally and emotionally. If Pepper hadn’t been there to all but spoon-feed you and tuck you into bed, you likely would have ended up in the ER weeks ago. I’m turning into Tony, you’d wryly thought. But the thought itself just made you miss the man even more.

If anyone had it worse than you, it was probably Rhodey. He’d been more distraught than you’d ever seen him, and after all he’d experienced in his life and his career, that was certainly saying something. But it gave you someone who understood, someone who’d work long into the night with you to try and find a man you both refused to live without.

---------

“Why do you always make this so hard?”

Glassy eyes, pursed lips, drooping shoulders. You looked broken.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so drunk that night he would have understood what you meant. The alcohol never bothered you, not really. You’d scold him for it, take him home, tuck him in, leave Advil and a glass of water on his bedside table, and then repeat it all the next weekend. He’d take advantage of your kindness, because that’s what he did. He hurt the people closest to him.

He loved them, he’d do anything for them…but sometimes his self-depreciation outweighed that love. His whole life had been built on money and fame. He was used to getting what he wanted and the moment something threatened the status quo, he lashed out.

Years later, he would look back and barely remember that night. You hadn’t spoken to him for days afterward and that was the only reason he even cared to remember it at all. There were snippets of memories in his head; a man - a good-looking one, standing a little too close to you at an event, an irrational anger, an argument, and a bruised jaw the morning after.

He’d made excuses and begged for forgiveness, how could he not? Deep down Tony knew what emotion had fuelled him that night, and it was one he’d never expected to feel when he looked at you with someone else. It didn’t change anything, he told himself. In fact, he was hellbent on ensuring it didn’t. You’d told him to stop bringing his flings home, and he’d tried, he really had. But if he didn’t have them then he’d think of you, and he couldn’t ruin you like that.

So, he ignored your warnings and descended even further into his playboy lifestyle. The less he saw you, the more distant you became, and while it tore at him day in and day out, it was for the best. You’d both drifted from each other, but alcohol was the band-aid he slapped on that particular bullet wound.

You were the straight-laced, responsible one. You worked hard and saved face in the media when he inevitably screwed up. You looked after him even if it made your life harder.

Tony was a lot like you in the early days. He wanted to make his parents proud, but that all changed when he realised that no matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough for his father.

Somewhere along the road you’d both diverged from each other. A fork in the road that led you closer to heaven and him closer to hell.

But after that night, Tony had realised that this was more a crossroad than anything else. You were too good for him, he’d never hurt you by pursing a relationship. He didn’t do relationships. But god, did he hate the thought of you with anyone else.

He’d be okay with not having you, as long as nobody else could have you either.

“What the hell is your problem? What did you say to him?”

“I dunno what you mean…we were all ou’ here havin’ a good time, weren’t we girls?”

His entourage chirped like silicone baby birds, desperate for their mama’s attention. Your jaw clenched so hard at the smug grin Tony shot your way, that you almost chipped a tooth.

Ten minutes ago you’d been so close, so close, to finally taking that first step out of the hold he had on you and agreeing to a date. He was a nice boy, a handsome boy, one your mother would have gushed over. But like a vulture circling its next meal, Tony somehow knew just where to find you. His hold was iron. Sometimes you thought that his heart was too, because no matter how much it hurt, he’d never release you.

“Oh come on, sweetheart…” Tony tried rolling his eyes but his entire head followed. “What, you think you were gonna live happily ever after with the baby-faced real estate agent? Really?” He scoffed. “You could do better.”

“Sometimes you can’t help who you love, Tony.” You’d snapped. You’d said too much, but he wouldn’t remember it anyway.

Tony barked a laugh, and his baby birds followed.

“Love? Who’s talkin’ about love? There’s no love here, no ma’am!”

They all laughed again.

Your shoulders dropped, your lips pursed, and you felt the familiar sting at your eyes. You felt broken.

“Why do you always make this so hard?”

--------- Time was a funny thing. All of those nights he’d spent drinking and partying and hunting his next bedmate seemed to flash by in the blink of an eye. But here, in the dark, in the cold, in the wet, he could have sworn that it had been years since he’d arrived.

He’d wasted so much time.

The pain in his chest hadn’t eased up, he didn’t know if it ever would. The Doc had done an incredible job considering the circumstances, and Tony struggled to think of a single one of his own employees who would have had the brains and balls to do what Yinsen did (mainly because he didn’t deal with his employees, but the sentiment was the same). Yinsen had saved his life, and if all it cost him was a bit of pain, then that was a pretty great deal.

The only problem was, that this place was hardly a place he wanted to spend the rest of his life in - however short that may be. The trauma was there, physical and mental, but he’d wrapped it up in chains and thrown it into the deepest pits of his mind. He didn’t have time to fall apart, not when they had a plan.

“I have this friend…”

It was dark, but Tony could still see Yinsen’s head turn in his direction. So far when they settled in for some sleep - if either of them could even manage to muster a few hours - it was Yinsen who had done most of the talking. He spoke of his wife, his children, his home…better days. If anything went wrong the following day, then it was likely that one or both of them would be killed. If ever there were a time to remember what was waiting for him at home, it was now.

“Oh?”

“Yeah…she’s, well, the only real family I have left now that I think about it.”

Yinsen was silent for a beat.

“Do you love her?”

Tony huffed a derisive laugh.

“No. No, it’s not- not like that.” He shook his head, even if Yinsen could barely see it. “She’s different, y’know? Better than this, than- than me.”

Glassy eyes, pursed lips, drooping shoulders. You looked broken.

It was silent again.

“I’ve known her my whole life. She uh, man…”

Yinsen smiled softly. There was a genuine smile in the billionaire’s words.

“She’d know exactly what to do. She’s smart, focused. Probably searching the whole damn planet for us.”

You. Yinsen didn’t bother correcting him.

“She sounds special.”

“She is…I still hear her sometimes. That little voice inside my head, you know the one?”

Yinsen nodded, his eyes slipping shut as he pictured his family.

“I do. I call it hope.”

Tony heaved a shaky breath. “Yeah…hope.”

He smiled. If he closed his eyes he could see the pleased look his words would give rise to.

“She’d get us both out of here with a paper clip and a double A battery.”

Yinsen chuckled.

“I’m sure you’d do the same for her.”

Anything. I’d do anything…

Yinsen hummed thoughtfully, and Tony had to wonder if he’d said that aloud.

“Do you love her?”

Another silence stretched between them as Tony looked over to their workspace. If he squinted he could make out the shape of their creation. The suit of armour that would take them to safety, to freedom…home. Or, maybe it wouldn't.

“Yeah.” He inhaled sharply. “Yeah, I do.”

--------

Tony had taught you many things in life, but this was one of the most important lessons.

You remembered your first day at high school. A child genius, they called you.

A prodigy, that kid’s goin’ places, I’m tellin’ ya!

They were right and you were young, but they also seemed to think that despite the label, your age must have brought with it a certain degree of naivety. The only way they could outdo you was with experience, and they used that to their advantage.

“Watcha doin’?”

“Homework,” you’d answered, tiny hands moving a mile a minute to finish up before dinner.

Tony had frowned then, not that you could see it. You didn’t see him all that often, and when you did, he could barely go to the bathroom without you trailing after him. This was…new.

Even more unusual were the papers strewn all over the desk beside you. Louisa, Thomas, Jake, Allison…Homework, huh? Tony’d thought dryly.

“Woah, slow down there, Speedy Gonzales,” He’d plucked the pencil out of your hand, and couldn’t suppress a smile at the wide-eyed look you’d given him.

“Tony!” You’d shouted, launching yourself at him.

He’d laughed; you hadn’t known it at the time but that was a rarity in those days. You wouldn’t understand it until you were much older, the way he changed around you, even then. The way he hid his sadness, his anger, his bitterness, from you. His childhood may have been miserable, but he’d never allow himself to be the reason yours suffered too.

He would never let anyone hurt you. Except himself, you’d both go on to realise.

“What’s all this?” he’d asked, finally prying your little arms from around his neck.

“The kids at school said that the only reason I was moved up was because my daddy paid for it. They said if I was really that smart, then I’d be able to write their essays and get A’s for all of them.”

You’d looked down at your feet. Why did it suddenly feel wrong? Why did Tony’s smile suddenly look so forced and bitter. He’d scrubbed his expression clean before he looked back at you.

“Did you doubt you could do it?”

“No, I knew I could!” You’d defended.

“Right…so why prove something you already know is true?”

His eyes had softened when he noticed your sad little pout. Decades later it still had the same effect on him. That damned look, I swear it’ll be the death of me one day.

“Hey, look…I get it. I really do,” He’d squeezed your shoulder. “It’s hard, and big kids are assh- ehem, they’re meanies,” his lips had twitched upward, “but you don’t have to prove a damn thing to them, okay? The only person I want you to worry about impressing in this world is you. Can you do that for me?”

You’d nodded.

“Promise?”

“Yes, Tony.”

He’d cocked a brow.

“What, you think I’m going to take your word for it?”

Your fist had shot up immediately, pinky finger at the ready.

“That’s right,” he’d nodded. “You break this very official agreement and that’s it, it’s all over for us.”

---------

So, when he decided to put an end to the weapons manufacturing sector of Stark Industries, you gave him your full support. It was his choice and the world would have to deal with it. Tony had been different since his return. There was a certain blankness that would settle in his eyes sometimes and he seemed more aware of the world around him. He didn’t talk about what happened to him, and you wouldn’t force him to, but the effect it had was evident.

When he’d landed on that tarmac, looking worse than you’d ever seen him, you’d told yourself that it was okay. That he was safe. He was alive. It was more than you could have ever hoped for. Then you’d proceeded to burst into tears, and clung to him the entire way to McDonald’s, like you had that day at the beach so long ago. A press conference was called and he’d left you in the car with a wink that was entirely too confident for a man who’d been through hell.

I promised you a souvenir…

The stoppered tube he’d given you almost sent you into another bout of hysterics. But you were quick to get it together when you’d heard his announcement. You spent the next few days turning off the news whenever he entered the room, but despite your efforts he knew all about the world’s criticism.

“You okay?”

You lingered in the doorway of his bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and head hanging between them. He straightened at the sound of your voice, but the charade was already broken.

“Peachy,” he didn’t even bother forcing a smile. You made your way over to sit beside him.

“You ever just…? I mean, am I doing the right thing here? I gotta be, right?”

He looked at you with wide-eyes. They’d take in every inch of you for signs of a lie, or eagerly lap up your reassurances. You’d seen those eyes before; eyes desperate for direction, for a guidance he usually didn’t need. He was Tony Stark and he paved his own way in life…but the world was so far behind him these days, that he sometimes needed the only thing tethering him to it - and that was you. It always had been, and it always would be.

“You are.”

He’d released a sharp breath, relieved, but irritated. He’d been watching the news again.

“Then- Then why are people treating this like some kind of PTSD-induced phase that I’m supposed to snap out of?”

Did you see that? Those are your weapons…

“People are dying-”

In the hands of those murderers…

“-I know-“

Is this what you want?

“-my weapons are killing them-“

Is this what you wish the legacy of the great Tony Stark to be?

“-I know-“

“Do you?!” He snapped. “‘Cause I had no idea!”

His chest was heaving, anger simmering beneath the surface. You’d let him have this, this moment to just yell and vent and get it all out without having to worry about who would see or who he’d hurt with his words. He’d never hurt you, not really.

Slowly, the stern lines of his face evened out, his shoulders slumped, and that familiar look of regret bled into his eyes.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry...I just…” he drew in a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to know that I’m doing the right thing, no matter the cost.”

“You know why they want you to doubt your decisions? Why they want you to ‘snap out of it’?” you asked.

“It’s not because you’re wrong, but because admitting that you’re right doesn’t work in their favour.” You grasped his hand. “People will never value life as long as they continue to profit from death, Tony.”

“It’s not their names stamped on the shell…” his jaw clenched.

“I know, hon.” You offered a sympathetic smile. “But you’ve taken the first step in a direction even Howard wasn’t brave enough to take. So, we’re going to do what we always do. We’re going to fix this, okay?”

His dark, glassy eyes met your own and you smiled softly at the first trace of a small spark in them.

“Huh…”

You forced a shaky laugh, almost squirming at the foreign look in his eyes.

“What?”

He just smiled and shook his head. “Nothing. Just…I missed you, y’know?”

“Right back atcha,” you huffed a more genuine laugh this time. “I mean it, Tony. I’ve never been more proud of you in my life.”

You pulled him into a tight hug, and by the time you’d pulled away and risen to your feet, a pained look had clouded his features.

“Tony?” You couldn’t help but worry.

“I’m fine,” he smiled. It was entirely fake.

“Do, uh…do you mind just…” He glanced down at the floor as if ashamed to ask, waved his hand to the other side of his bed, and looked back up at you through his lashes. “Stay with me?”

The question caught you off-guard, but you couldn’t blame him for asking. When was the last time he’d gotten a good night’s sleep? Probably the night of the Apogee Awards, and that seemed so very, very long ago. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Of course.”

He’d settled into bed like a skittish animal, eyes darting to his bedroom door and to the wide expanse of tinted windows that lined his wall. The cave had been claustrophobic, but all he saw now were too many points of entry. He’d have to fix that.

Your head settled on his shoulder, and all -most- thoughts of kidnapping were tucked away for later.

“Y’know…Pep told me you barely slept while I was gone.”

“Snitch,” you mumbled, and he chuckled. “Yeah, I was a little stressed. Didn’t take care of myself as much as I probably should have.”

“I’m sorry…”

You squeezed his side, a silent reprimand.

“Don’t. You’re the last person who should be apologising. You have no idea how relieved I am, Tony.”

He was quiet for a beat. Usually he’d fire back a quip to lighten the mood, but not this time it seemed.

“I’m happy to be home.”

And he was, he just couldn’t quite voice that it wasn’t the safe and warm mansion that he’d considered home while he was in that cave. There were arms he wanted wrapped around him. There were eyes he imagined shining up at him. There was a smile he wanted to trace with his lips. There was a woman, right there at the forefront of his mind, begging him to come home…and he never could deny her.

It was jarring. He was supposed to be smart. He was supposed to be smarter than smart, and it had taken a kidnapping, a haphazard surgery in a dank cave, losing a man -a friend- worth more than any of the snobs he’d met Stateside, a fire-fight with terrorists, and a crash-landing in the middle of the desert, to open his eyes to the world around him.

Don’t waste it…don’t waste your life…

They could take his money, and his fame, and his company, and even his brain. He’d still have all he ever needed. Yinsen had lost that, it was why he urged him not to do the same.

But no, he couldn’t say that. Not to her, not yet. So he did what he always did.

“Pep also said that you slept in here most nights.”

You hummed absentmindedly.

“Kinda hoping you never outgrew that habit of sleeping in your underwear…”

Your brows furrowed, eyes snapping open to spy a grin out of the corner of your eye.

You slapped his chest lightly, mindful of the new addition.

“You’d only be so lucky, pal.”

Feeling his chest shake in silent laughter brought a smile on your face, and though you thought you heard his response, you were too far gone to care about it in the moment.

“Don’t I know it…”

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #Iron Man #iron man x reader #ironman #tony stark imagine #changing gears

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dreamtofbluebirds · 4 years

Text

SHUICHI SAIHARA

While timid and particularly unobtrusive, Shuichi is a person of integrity. Years spent with a detective uncle had carved a formidable foundation for law-abiding behavior.

{ POST-GAME. }

In his primary verse, he was thrown into Danganronpa unwillingly and upon waking up from the Virtual Reality, was missing quite a bit of his original memories. Between physical and mental therapy, he’d find that his past would always be elusive but a few things remain solid. His friendships, his family situation, and his nature remained consistent. What became a hurdle was the fact that Danganronpa had not known prior to kidnapping him that he was a trans male, and thus did not alter his in-game avatar. Upon his release, he would find renewed difficulty in the dysphoria but a clearer understanding of himself.

As a note, if I write with anyone WITHIN the game’s timeline, I will change the mishap over his avatar in the VR to accurately reflect his born sex instead. This is because I am fond of this concept, and I’d like to keep that aspect of him consistent as I write.

{ HOPE’S PEAK. }

Standard verse, taking place during his years at Hope’s Peak. He lives on-campus at a dorm and is often gone over any significant breaks, doing cases or visiting his Uncle and Aunt. He’s more often than not away on any and all days off, going to the city to explore, experience events and festivals, or otherwise, work off his physical energy so he can focus on his studies later that night.

{ P4. }

Split into two halves. One centers around Hope’s Peak –> P4′s plot, without DR.

In his secondary verse, Danganronpa existed within the world of Persona, spurred on by severe influences within the Metaverse. Himself and others were dragged in but through the trials they faced, they awakened to their potential, and Chapter Six was a boss battle as the Metaverse seeped into their Virtual Reality simulation. Upon waking, they retained their personas and made a vow to seek the truth, no matter the cost. He is of the Death Arcana, capable of summoning AUGUSTE DUPIN, same as the legendary fictional detective.

Accompanying these two verses, it’s available for Shuichi and Naoto to be brothers. They lived separately and don’t know much about each other–even down to opening up about their gender identity which would only end up being implied, as both would be too awkward to talk about it during family events.

{ P5. }

Split into two halves. One centers around Hope’s Peak –> P5′s plot, without DR.

{ POKEMON. }

The third verse is a pokemon verse where he’s a P.I. with two pokemon, a Growlithe and an Umbreon named Lee and Bree. After the show ended, he returned to his Uncle’s work as a part-timer and on low-risk cases, and was given an Eevee at the time. Growlithe has been with him since before the show, so both pokemon work together to ensure he keeps a calm head.

{ APOCALYPSE. }

This is an apocalypse AU in which the undead arose while he underwent high school life at Hope’s Peak. He’s great for tactical approaches and working hard, but the loss of Kaito and many others weigh on him. His only comfort is that Kaede remains by his side.

{ VAMPIRE. }

This verse is split into two groups; one remains post-game, and the other is Hope’s Peak. Each of these will be tagged with both tags.

The post-game verse is a vampire verse in which he was bitten before the game. It’s my only non-VR AU with the killing game included, but the game doesn’t have to go as it did in canon because I’d love to interact with certain characters regardless. He’s young and without a sire, but I’ll be taking a bit of lore from Vampire: The Masquerade and say that his humanity is extremely high. This grants him the ability to hide what he is extremely well, among other things. He has the power of suggestion, but he’s very untrained with it and would hate to use it unless he morally had to.

The alternate verse is in which he’s at Hope’s Peak and handles the results of being bitten on a case during a break, uprooting his entire lifestyle.

{ AVIAN. }

Sixth verse is one in which he’s winged, mirroring the pattern of a blue raven with their mostly black, glossy-blue wings and his bright eyes. They’re too big to hide and he can fly, but he’s timid about it and prefers to stay grounded out of safety.

{ REMNANT. }

A verse where DR2′s plot was V3′s, and the ‘older classmates’ that helped were DR2′s cast. The verse is spliced into three parts. Shuichi acting as an active Remnant of Despair is the first segment, him inside Future Foundation’s custody is the second, and post-NWP is the third. He’s ruthless and hellbent on punishing criminals, turning his personality to mirror a sadism that he’s sickened by. He kidnaps Kaito during the active remnant days as well as attempts to kidnap and punish other classmates/remnants in the name of justice.

He’s very similar to Future Foundation’s leaders at the time but believes them to be corrupt/weak, seeing as Junko still captured him and others.

{ BLIND. }

During a case overseas, Shuichi was a victim of an acid attack. It stole his sight during his final year at Hope’s Peak as a result, bringing him to a long hospital stay and therapy in the coming months to regain some resemblance of autonomy.

{ SUPERHERO. }

Shuichi is one of the top officers in the city not for his experience, but his knack for being in the right place at the right time, and his ability to talk to the villains at least somewhat civilly. He often accompanies Kaito and does his best to do what’s right, regardless of what the police force thinks he should be doing, which puts him in a tough spot.

He does have an ability, which is that all psychological abilities have a significantly decreased effect on him. He essentially has a mental fortitude buff.

{ METAL HEART AU. }

Shuichi suffered a car crash that all but ruined his physical body, save for his mind. His Uncle and Idabashi had been good friends, and right as the roboticist entered stages of humanlike development on his own project, Shoma all but pleaded for a chance to give Shuichi a new body.

Codenamed S4U-1C41, he would end up living with the roboticist as he regained mobility while Kibo, the man’s son, was accepted into the Saihara’s household given his own love of detective work.

Regarded as inhumane, Shuichi understands the importance of his secret and hides his true identity.

{ TWINS. }

Fairly straightforward as an AU and can be in conjunction with almost every other AU he has. His birth name would be Shiho still, but the next part depends on who takes the role of Shuichi–if the other twin does, then the name he’d choose for himself is Shouhei Saihara regardless of what last name he inherited. If he takes the role of Shuichi, then he’d have chosen Shuichi Saihara as his new name.

His dynamic with the sibling depends on the personality of said twin, but his own personality remains fairly responsible–even to the point of taking the blame for his brother and proving incredibly loyal. A large detail that changes him is that loneliness is a persevering trait of his and I like the idea that he and his brother were split up a lot as their parents were not prepared for two, resulting in an on-off stay with Uncle Shoma. This means that while he craves closeness with his sibling, he remains awkward about it and uncertain of what is really acceptable or desired of him.

As a result, he’s extremely sensitive to criticism.

{ PREGAME. }

After much consideration, this verse was added. Shouhei Saihara is a boy with high expectations placed on him. Although his Uncle is less strict than his parents were, he was forced into attending Spring Field Academy and forced into living with his Uncle and Aunt while his parents continued pursuing their careers.

He’s used to being treated differently due to his status and loathes it, often avoiding saying his name, hiding his face, and otherwise being suspicious of those who talk to him. His social skills are terrible due to moving from school to school and lacking the ability to have too much freedom beyond studying. His world-view is pessimistic and his love for Danganronpa stems from hoping most of the characters die, believing them to be terrible people, aside from the rare favorite.

{ GOFER PROJECT. }

Shuichi grew up as the world fell apart, heavy-hearted and devastated by the collapse. From the meteors to the sickness, then the Gofer Project and the rise of the opposing cult, he clung to any minuscule stability he had before going on the run, hiding from friend and foe alike. While he feels unworthy of being in the project he understood the necessity of it at the time and still does.

His natural role as a peace-keeper and helper come out full force in this AU as being alone remains the worst thing he could do to himself. His anxiety over being transmale increases due to the heavy promotion of having children, but he comes to the understanding that their new world needs law and not every one of the students were designed to be on board purely for procreating–Kiibo and Kirumi, for example, whose talents center around enrichment of others and coexistence rather than something so base.

{ ROYALTY. }

Born to the King and Queen of a kingdom, Shuichi was able to escape the confines of sophisticated life to grow up under his Uncle’s care, who was a simple detective within the kingdom. Because so little information about the heir to the throne was ever released, when he was called back, few questioned his identity and the ones that did only assumed he may have been the nephew of the rulers and that the ‘princess’ had died. His head knight is Kaito and the chief of security and intelligence is Maki. Kirumi is both the head maid and cook for him, and he’s tentatively worked out a deal where she lets him help in the kitchen when he can.

The kingdom itself is steeped in arts and literature due to the King’s love of stage play and the Queen’s love of writing for such things. This gives the land an easygoing feel, but it’s ill-equipped to handle threats as a result and Shuichi holds a vastly different view of what should be going on–and he’ll soon be King when they step down to finally abandon their royal duties in favor of the arts. It’s a lot, and he’s pressured to find a spouse before the coronation. Men aren’t excluded from this, though his parents specifically have chosen to avoid mentioning it.

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