#doomsday student

[gotankgo]

2014 -

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[cosmic-cogs]

I like to call this piece

"Whatcha got there?" "A smoothie"

Downfall belongs to @i-starcreamed

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I was going to go to sleep early tonight but then I had to Google my most painful ex and listen to the entirety of Five Seconds Flat by Lizzy McAlpine. I may have to listen to it again, so it's going to be a busy night.

[archer-antiope]

the continuing throughline of aguefort staff manipulating students to achieve their ends... daybreak recruiting ragh and dayne to further his doomsday cult... kalvaxus getting penelope in on capturing her BEST FRIEND in a crystal for his own ends.... now porter and jace recruiting the rat grinders... even kalvaxus getting adaine to break the wards book first day of freshman year!!!!!! oOOOH it's SO!!!!!

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim's Granny Claus could crush a man's skull with her bicep, you don't normally notice or think about her muscles though because she puts out a very sweet mousy lady vibe that has grown into a sweet granny vibe when she started going grey. She's only really started to go grey when Santa decided to start taunting Darkseid, she likes and approves of the shenanigans but it's stressful. Her harmless quiet lady vibe is STRONG, as strong as the "good child" vibe that Tim has that makes everyone forget he's a chaos gremlin. She does legitimately need reading glasses.

She may or may not have been an Amazon at one point and definitely predates Hippolyta and her reign. Possibly she's worshipped as a goddess in some cultures. She may or may not be part elf or part fairy. She may have gone by Mab at one point or not.

Santa is the younger one in the relationship, it was a lot of drama and it took him a LONG time to woo her and part of that was due to the not actually serious age gap which still made her worry. He has his own eldritch background and he's only a little bit younger than her but she had worries about power dynamics. It was a thing.

Mrs. Claus is organized to the extreme and even more intelligent than she is organized. Her hobbies, besides making contingency plans and general doomsday prepping include making candy, learning new languages, and reading/writing trashy romance novels. She absolutely publishes under a pseudonym.

She does NOT leave the North Pole. If she needs something that's not in the home/village that she and Santa have built, she'll send someone to go fetch it for her. This is why she has assistants/minions/students/employees after all.

For the elves, working in Santa's workshops is a bit like going through the best trade school or university in the galaxy in relation to all the things it takes to get the supplies, keep things organized, make things, develop psychological profiles to determine who would most want what etc. The program is accredited. Yes to Tim helping with recommendation letters. Not all of the elves are earth based elves. More than a few are extra terrestrial. Mrs. Claus is the one to extend Santa's operation to the stars when she noticed her husband not being stimulated enough with the chaos he absolutely doesn't create on earth during the rest of the year. She considered having another child or having one of the elves go and kidnap another child but decided giving Santa more space to cause problems was a better long term solution than adopting/kidnapping a child as a band aid for an adult's mental situation.

Time is extremely elastic and not at all linear around the Santa's workshop area. Questioning this would be a bad idea. There is one time a year when leaving Santa's workshop sets you in the "right" timeline/location. If you enter the area and leave outside of that time of the year then you could end up in Pangea or on Tamaran. Mrs. Claus is perfectly capable of getting to when/where she wants if she wanted to go anywhere. She does not. Santa is also very capable but sometimes enjoys just popping out to random time/place.

Janet is the only child by blood Mrs. Claus has had. She and Santa have adopted a literal army's worth of children over the years though they haven't recently. The adoption has never actually been legal. Santa just literally kidnaps children from extremely bad situations. This may or may not have fed into the Krampus legends. Bad parents who've lost their kids just don't want to admit that it was their own fault and instead blame the missing child.

Janet was in a very "I want to be normal" stage when she got married and Santa and Mrs. Claus considered it youthful rebellion. They were pleased to get a grandson out of it though less pleased when Janet insisted they stay away because she wanted to be "normal". They're still waiting for Janet to pull herself back together.

Tim's own family talents won't break out until he's an adult. Or maybe they have and that's why he's stuck at seventeen. And no one notices because Gotham is Gotham. This is why Janet and Jack lived in Gotham, Janet had an easier time pretending to be "normal" in Gotham than she would have in any other place in the world.

Granny Ms. Claus!!!!

I adore AUs that have Tim's grandma (whoever she is [Ms. Claus, kidnapped by an alien, whatever]) as badass. I like in this one that she has muscles for days, but still in touch with both her femininity and a deceptively sweet one. To be badass, you don't have to be masculine.

Anyways, I imagine her stare over the rim of her glasses making even the most feared being at least hesitate.

Also, kudos to her for making sure her relationship with Mr. Clause was healthy for all parties. Fuck yeah.

I wonder how elves are treated in other parts of the universe. Could they also universe travel as well???

It's also curious to see how many traits Tim inherited from Mrs. Claus despite (at least originally) not seeing her much throughout his childhood. I'm assuming Tim met his grandma when Santa "died." Whether he knew her from photos or didn't find out until Mrs. Claus said something, I bet he was astounded. Not even he could make a contingency plan for "what to do when visiting someone you watched die's loved one only to find out you're related." Poor Tim. To add on to the angst, I'm pretty sure Janet was dead by that point :(

Tons of angst all around there (Mrs. Claus finding out after being told her husband "died." Tim realizing his mom hid this entire side of herself and their family, and he'll never have to chance to learn it from her).

I do like the theory for forever 17. That checks out with the weird time stuff going on with the North Pole.

[qc-wiggles]

they say write what you know and what i know is academic stress and yearbook pain. so anyways it's a yearbook club au!!!!

YEARBOOK CLUB MEMBERS:

supervising teachers: gertrude and leitner. they become uncontactable like a week into the project (do they die? do they resign? tim has a running theory that they eloped.)

elias: head of yearbook club. dips unexpectedly in the middle of the entire thing (something about an optical surgery) and forces jon to take over. his dad paid for the adobe subscription they’re using 

rosie: treasurer, she’s very efficient, they’ve probably exchanged like 3 emails in total and she’s gotten everything funded. knows well enough to stay out of the dumpster fire that is yearbook production otherwise

jon: de facto head of yearbook club. thinks it should have gone to sasha instead. hes a bit incompetent but plans like it’s doomsday the next week so they are always in a wealth of excel sheets. writer, editor

tim: joined partly because he wanted an excuse to get out of football fixtures. also because he is 1 out of jons 3 friends including his ex and jon asked him. he has a tiktok. marketing, editor

sasha: joined partly to impress gertrude (she’s looking for her to write her letter of recommendation as head girl in sixth form). also because she is 1 out of jons 3 friends including his ex and jon asked her. she still uses livejournal. designer, writer

gerry: sixth form, occasionally helps out with networking at gertrude’s behest. tim is a bit starstruck over him. he saves their asses many, many times

melanie and georgie: got unofficially roped in as photographers. why you ask? manuela dominguez may have the cutting edge cameras but she is simply too scary to approach. melanie has a youtube channel that all the girls and tim are apparently subscribed to. 

martin: there is not one single picture of him. apparently he didn’t turn up for photo day, neither was he involved in any school events. even the people who have shared half-remembered facts about him seem to forget about him when questioned a second time. where did he go?

PLOT:

it’s the month before the yearbook is due to be sent in for production, and the team have discovered numerous issues with the draft: pictures of random people keep getting swapped over like they’ve been photoshopped, some pages are illegible and distorted unless they are physically written out in hand and scanned, one paragraph is a leitner. and nobody can find martin blackwood so they can get his picture in the yearbook. what will they do.

SIDE CHARACTERS:

annabelle cane: current head girl

mikaele salesa: somehow knows literally everyone, involved in the funding of yearbook production

mike crew: uneasy alliance with gerry in their pursuit of jurgen leitner 

oliver banks: had a mental breakdown sometime during his gcses but hes fine now

david from research: nobody says it to his face but he has genuinely the most atrocious clothing choice in the entire school apart from michael shelley, and even then michael shelley makes work

grifter’s bone: the band of the school, except no one actually knows anyone who’s part of it. their shows are legendarily terrible. manuela says ambulances were phoned. 

daisy and basira: prefects, currently invested in making sure yearbook club remains LEGAL and not STALKING ANY STAFF OR STUDENTS, JON

jmag: principal. boo. what a creep

julia montauk: apparently her dad went to jail. but who is she living with now? i don’t know, manuela told me. how does manuela know? julia told her in a sleepover during year 6. and she’s telling other people? wow. that’s messed up. is that old guy her grandpa? why does he carry a rifle around

jared hopworth: prejudiced gymbro, but importantly, NOT a homophobe.

the admiral: what else needs to be said

FAMOUS ALUMNI:

agnes montague (campus celebrity from literally decades ago) (her relationship with jack barnabas is mythicised)

jude perry (allegedly caused some fire-related, agnes-related events)

edwin burroughs (allegedly commited atrocities during one year’s christmas dinner)

jane prentiss (left for uni a year ago, allegedly brought many live organisms onto campus) (keeps talking about this guy called jordan)

eric delano (he did WHAT to his eyes)

MISCELLANEOUS POINTS:

daedalus crew is astronomy club

breekon and hope are the manufacturers for much of the schools equipment and stationery

jon keeps finding notes from gertrude stashed in random places about yearbook difficulties its like a fun cool treasure hunt

they cant figure out where a computer they were initially using for yearbook club is from. it says ‘ushanka’ on the bottom of the display and the keys are slightly crusty

what the hell are the drama students actually up to 

[kennascreepycorner]

My Adoring Phantom - Part 1

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ on repeat: Doomsday - Lizzy McAlpine

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count: 1,232

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ trigger warnings: death, lowkey stalking

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary: Reader dies and meets Wally + the rest of them

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

August 9th, 2012. First day of your freshman year. Your day starts off in your English class. Your outfit consists of a thrifted sweater, with a sherpa lined denim jacket on top. Your black stockings cling to your legs under your green corduroy pencil skirt. To top off the outfit, your feet are covered with a pair of old worn out converse, black leg warmers overlapping on the top of the shoes.

As you make your way to class, you get a sudden chill. You shake it off, continuing to walk. That sudden chill was Wally.

When he saw you, he audibly said “Oh my god.”

Then he started following you. He followed you from class to class, going as far as to sit in on a couple of them just to stare at you. He walked you to class every single day, knowing you weren’t even aware of his existence. But he didn’t care, he got to see you and that’s what mattered to him. He enjoyed spending time with you, even if it was one sided. 

Then May rolled around, and the school year ended, and Wally was alone. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you. 

August 9th, 2013. First day of your sophomore year. The same thing happens all over again, rinse and repeat with your junior year, and now your senior year.

It was January 1st, 2016. Five more months, and he would never see you again.

He is snapped out of his memories by the voice of Charley. 

“You’re thinking of her again, aren’t you?” Charley registers what's going on, realizing his friend is still swooning. 

“Yeah. I can’t help it!” Wally leaned forward on the bleachers, resting his elbows on his knees and lightly intertwining his fingers. 

“There's a very unlikely chance that she’s gonna-” Charley begins, but is cut off in the middle of his sentence by an ear piercing scream. The two ghost boys share a look, and begin searching for where the sound came from.

First, they found Rhonda, who was in the exact same boat as them. The first thing she said upon seeing them was,

“Did you guys hear that?”

Then they figured it would be a good idea to see where the massive mob of students were heading. That would most likely provide answers.

As they come across the scene it is not pretty. As it had turned out, the ‘very unlikely chance’ -in Charleys words- of Y/n’s death, had in fact happened. She had a similar story to Charleys, having died from being allergic to something. Apparently it was a bad allergy too, her body was almost unrecognizable. 

Soon after they arrive, they spot a very frantic, panicked looking girl. She notices them looking at her and immediately runs to them.

“Can you see me?” She’s borderline yelling as she says this, her eyes wide and full of uncertainty. Wally lets himself take the sight of her in. She’s there. And she can see and hear him. 

“Sure can, cherrypop.” Rhonda is the first to speak out of the three. Wally quickly steps forward.

“Ignore her, she’s like that all the time.” He rolls his eyes as he extends a hand to you. 

“Wally Clark. Resident jock.” He flashes his toothy grin at you. You look puzzled for a second, then a look of horror and realization comes across your face. 

“You’re.. Wally Clark? As in, died on the football field in ‘83 Wally Clark?” You look at Rhonda, registering who she is.

“And you’re…” You grab your hair, pulling at it lightly.

“This cannot be happening!” You take a deep breath, and try to compose yourself. 

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” You stare down Wally as you ask this, him being the only one you’ve really spoken to.

“You betcha.” He awkwardly shoves his hands in his letterman jacket pockets. 

Once the four of you got back to the group, it had gotten around there was a new ghost. You’re greeted by Dawn and Mr. Martin as soon as you walk in. You all sit down, Wally grabbing a new chair for you almost immediately. When you sit down, a million questions are thrown at you.

“Whats your name?”

“How old are you?”

“How did you die?” And many more follow after. 

“Guys maybe uh, chill a little.” Wally chuckles as he sees your discomfort. 

“She seems a bit overwhelmed.” Oh what three and a half years of observation will teach you about someone. Wally knows everything about you there is to know. He stole your diary (“It’s not technically stealing.” was how he rationalized it to himself.) and has read it cover to cover at least three times. He had been watching you since the moment he saw you. He knew your body language. You glance at him with a small smile, silently thanking him.

“I’m Y/n,” You begin slowly, cautious at first.

“I was turning 18 in a week, but not anymore I guess. I died from an allergic reaction to blueberries. Someone put them in my food without telling me, I guess, and before I knew it I was here.” You tell your story, eyes not leaving from your fidgeting hands in your lap. 

“So it was murder?” Rhonda asks, not beating around the bush whatsoever.

“Maybe- I don't know, I don't really care.” You shrugged your shoulders,

“I’m dead now, either way.”

The group seemed to be surprised by how fast you had accepted your death.

“Okay! Movie night anyone?” Mr. Martin hurriedly tried to move along the session. 

As night rolled around, you tugged on Wally’s sleeve lightly. You being 5'3 and him being 6’3, he had to look down slightly to talk to you. 

“What’s up?” He perks up as soon as he sees you.

“Where do I sleep?” You ask the question very quietly, as if you’re scared of him. 

“Well, we don’t have to sleep, it comes with the territory of being undead. But if you want to,” He gestures towards the exit of the gym. As you walk down the hall with him, you realize something. 

“My backpack! Stay right here!” You exclaim, and run to the cafeteria. Luckily, when you arrived it was there, safe and sound. You sighed with relief. Then you quickly ran back to Wally, who stood waiting for you. He led you to the teachers lounge, where there was a couch. 

“It’s not much, but it’s something.” He smiles a little while he says this, playing with the gold chain around his neck. This was the first time you had realized it was even there.

“Thank you, Wally. For everything. You’ve been really nice today.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug. He was stunned for a split second, but quickly hugged you back. 

“Of course, I want to make sure you’re comfortable here.” You let go of him after a couple seconds of comfortable silence. 

“Well, good night.” You get up on your tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek, ushering him out of the teachers lounge as soon as your lips disconnect from his face. 

Wally walked away calmly for a second, then when he was sure he was out of your line of sight, he let his excitement grow. He ran down the halls, jumping to slap every door frame and doing heel clicks.

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Group 2

Propaganda:

Kyouya -

"what's there to say? you know him. you love him. vote kyoya."

Rinnosuke -

"Rinnosuke Morichika lives in an overly-cluttered curio shop, and has a special interest in making magical inventions. Since he doesn’t live in a modern setting— but a pocket dimension slightly disconnected to the outside world— whenever a modern item shows up in his shop via spiriting away, he can obsess over it for extended periods of time. He is quite blunt without realizing it, even to people he cares for. He also has a special ability to generally understand the name and use of any item he touches (though this backfires sometimes, he thought a Gameboy was a doomsday device once)."

Fuuta -

"okay look theres so many fucking signs hes autistic. he cannot tell tone and often doesn't know how to react to stuff which is a major point in his character id say. he was asked if he remembered his victim's name (hes a murderer. oops!) and his response was something along the lines of "Of course I do. I saw it everywhere." because he did not understand that they wanted to know what it was since it wasnt directly stated. im convinced that hoodies are a comfort object of his because i genuinely have not seen him without one except for one time. also hes canonically a chronically online twitter user. also he gets really passionate about his interests. also not really related but everyone in the fandom agrees hes transgender but no one can agree on what way. ive seen every single gender hc for this dude. vote kajiyama fuuta for this sopping wet poor little meow meow of a man."

Hansum -

"He's just a very odd and strange lad, can't remember names well, is an alien (mild spoiler), he's very popular, obsessed with Doritos and becomes their mascot, just refers to everyone as humans which is a mood, and is completely socially oblivious."

Miyuki -

"Relatable neurodivergent-Gifted Child syndromeTM case with all the superiority-inferiority complex that results. A chronic show-off and scheming strategist with a lowkey hopeless romantic dramatic aspect to him, silly cool and pathetic in a very hilarious way. Shirogane has a trademark glare purely thanks to his eyebags as he runs on coffee everyday having to support his family with multiple jobs in addition to class, on top of student council president duties. He's kind and an obsessive perfectionist who fills his entire wall with the weirdest motivational posters. Shirogane is very devoted to his love. He likes penguins (Kaguya and him is peak asd4asd and bi4bi btw)."

Kirito -

"He's autistic and bisexual as hell, and there's a good bit of trans coding in him 🥺

Autism coding: Bro's literally got a sword and swordfighting hyperfixation where, despite playing a game that focuses around guns, he still chooses to use a sword!! We also see him completely missing Asuna's flirting at first (he tells her she could have just checked her friendlist to make sure he was alive, in response to her tracking him down to see him)

Bi coding: Dual wielding swords is literally a euphemism in Japan for bisexuality; and Kirito initially tries to hide the fact he can dual wield out of fear of how the people he's close to will view him (and once he reveals it to them and they accept it, he begins to be more open about it.) Also in the Underworld arc he becomes very close with Eugeo to the point of living with him (and sharing a bed on occasion), and there are several parallels between Eugeo and Asuna, and they're so gay for each other that despite the anime having only a toned down version of it, they're still very affectionate (Also of note is that Eugeo is the only guy in SAO canon to consistently have a 'laying in bed with Kirito' talk CG in the spinoff games) (There's more but it's spoilers and this is a shortened version)

Trans coding: Kirito is very trans coded in the light novel (which shows Kirito's thoughts in much greater detail than the anime) Aincrad arc reveals that Kirito explicitly Does Not Like his real face, and dislikes how feminine it looks (he mentions that its led to him and his cousin being mistaken for sisters) And in Phantom Bullet arc, he's visibly uncomfortable at being mistaken for a girl due to his avatar's appearance, and in response to being misgendered he briefly panics and checks to make sure his chest flat (at least in the anime adaptation) 🏳️‍⚧️"

Shirou -

"Has one goal in life and ignores almost everything in favor of trying to fulfil that goal."

Keith -

"Speaks in a way that is seen as weird and has mannerisms others think is funny. He struggles with not being taken seriously by others because of this and many of the things others say goes over his head. He struggles to connect with other people because of these things. His entire arc in the second film is about him deciding that the people who don't accept him for who he is aren't worth it and that he's going to continue being himself."

Junpei -

"for other fans of this series, I know the more obvious representation here may be Luou, Junpei is So Good. his special interest is ballet and he has so many hangups involving how his family sees him and how other boys his age interpret him to the point that his idea of masculinity is extremely narrow and he enforces social rules on himself to mask and keep people from realizing that he loves something that Isn't Manly. he misinterprets social cues and takes things literally, like assuming that when Miyako asked him to dance with her she meant Right This Minute rather than as a pair in the studio. for some reason the point where he cuts his hair super short to prove his devotion to ballet is also sticking with me, I think maybe it's the combination of the way it's normal for boys/men in Japan to do that, yet Junpei didn't realize that kind of attitude/action didn't suit ballet at all? he wasn't aware that the context was completely different. Junpei also doesn't act or pretend very well, he's gotta put his whole entire ass into his roles, which he then proceeds to get TOO into and cause a lot of trouble, without giving too much away! he's really relatable to me as someone who's socially anxious but very skilled at masking, and seeing him become more comfortable with himself and start to show how he really feels is so inspiring to me."

Kazuma -

"He may be (wildly) misguided but his intentions are good kinda! He’s just the Guy of all time idk how to explain it."

[phantast86]

#webnovelrecommendation

My Pet Hellhound

A supernatural web novel laced with dark humor. The MC Billy is a table-top role player who gets embroiled in the games of the old gods, evil entities, a doomsday cult, and college students.

If you read and enjoy, help us spread the news about this crazy irreverent web novel.

Come find Billy @ www.phantasyunderground.com

[gotankgo]

Retox (Feat. Members of The Locust, All Leather)

Doomsday Student (Feat. Members of Arab on Radar)

Tit Wrench (Feat Members of Tit Wrench)

Secret Fun Club (Feat. Members of Some Girls)

February 16, 2012

The Casbash

San Diego, CA

[itsnothingofinterest]

Oh wow so my hero is ending in five chapters, any idea what those five chapters will be? We know we have that new stranger and the todoroki household to deal with so what else could they cover?

Well there’s obviously a lot to go over, but I expect some things (todofam) to get a lot more focus and page space than others (Gentle and Nagant) so to focus my answers on, well, what I expect to be the focus:

One chapter (426) will be, as I think we all can tell, the Todoroki resolution. Talked about my expectations/ worries for that here.

Next (427) will probably feature Uraraka & whatever happened to Toga in some way. Although since Hori dosn't always treat her the best (I mean I do think her villain fight was the best, but I don’t believe that was on purpose), I wouldn't be surprised if her chapter shares page time with other student plot lines, whatever happened to Spinner and/or the heteromorph plotline, and other miscellaneous stuff like Gentle getting released from prison.

Mystery person I'll bet will probably actually be two chapters (428 & 429): a) because it's Midoriya's resolution and b) because it'd naturally need more time for that; introducing a new character and all, bit of backstory to explain why they were tied up in some house and had to cut themselves loose with with sissors. Especially if it goes the way I except; mystery guy's a poor jaded victim-villain on their way to becoming the next Tomura, but Deku will save them and it'll be presented as though that means society is now improved such that it won't fail any more future Tenko Shimuras. ...Even though a) that's a hard sell after murdering Tenko Shimura in the arc that was specifically representing how thing will go from now on and b) that idea entirely misses the point of Tenko Shimura's story. But even giving this two dedicated chapters, that's the best Deku can really do so...guess you've still just got to hope a hero's around to save you. If not; sucks to suck, good luck with villainy and/or dying.

And uh, last chapter (430 if all our math is right) will probably just be your standard fare “5 or so years later" chapter about everyone as pro heroes. Everything is great and fine and so much better for no real reason and they'll all live happily ever after for anyone still alive; The End.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although if I may be spiteful; one thing I hope doesn’t get touched on is the quirk singularity doomsday plot line. Because as is, it still looks like the best case is for humanity to become an endangered species as soon as around the time of Class 1A’s eventual retirement (presumably their last decade or two spent dealing with panic over that). All because hero society refused to look where things are bad or inconvenient; and just when a solution, a treatment & cure to this condition was available to them anyway…Deku smashed it into dust because that’s the only way the little All Might clone could conceive of to beat the big bad villain.

And again, I know this is spiteful, but I rather like the idea of Deku murdering Tomura having such a serious consequence.

[riewritten]

𝐎𝐈𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 · CHAPTER FOUR · AO3

˚ · .─ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: YOU, a college student in Frankfurt, start receiving emails that embarked the dim of normalcy you worked so hard to build on your own; starting from a message claiming you as the light amidst the hell of Kinderheim, who came just in time to bring a paradise of doomsday and grime, something that pleased the monster inside him. Initially, you thought of reporting the email as spam until another ding came: the monster, so pleased and full, is aiming to return the favor—something to flesh out the paradise you had granted him back at Kinderheim.

˚ · .─ 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎: JOHAN/Fem!reader | 5.8k words

˚ · .─ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: explicit language, canon-typical violence, stalking, manipulation, obsessive tendencies, paranoia, abduction, threats of sexual assault, among many things that might arise.

SYNOPSIS: The next events that transpired in your subconscious after that dinner were neither a hyperbole of your repressed childhood grievances nor a personification of your deeply rooted fears. It is an actual recollection, a flashback surging almost all at once, once forgotten but surfaced by a trigger you are to unveil at this very moment.

Grimmer had kept your father alive in his thoughts; too alive, perhaps, that he’s acting the same way your father would had he been made aware of your position as of the moment. 

And just like your father did, Johan piqued his curiosity as well, almost the same way even. The only stark difference is that your father was fascinated with Johan as a tool; Grimmer, on the other hand, deems him in utter pity.

And fear.

Grimmer is running, sweat dripping from his head, to his polo, and to the edges of his sleeve. Panting and panting, reaching his hand for someone who could help you the way you deserve. Oh, you poor, poor girl, Grimmer whispers to himself as he runs while clutching the letter you've given him dear in his hands. His musings are cut off when he sees Tenma, the very person he could ask for help. He met Tenma in Prague, and with numerous talks he came to know that Tenma has a similar agenda in mind: Kinderheim 511. Albeit, with different people to find. Grimmer told him of his upbringing, about your father, and it doesn't take long for Tenma to immediately rearrange his priorities. Because apparently, this cowardly bastard of a father who led such a young boy into burning Kinderheim, had left a daughter behind.

—that very daughter being the perilous boy's dearest friend. It doesn’t take much for them to finally conclude; you are in danger.

“I'm so sorry, I was too late. Lunge and I weren't able to get her.” Grimmer hands over the letter you had delivered via mail.

Tenma takes his time reading it, slowly but surely his hold on the thin paper tightens ‘til it almost crumples.  

“We have to find her. We could still find her.” He frantically flips the paper to see the letter's delivery date. “Yesterday, huh? Then that means she's still not far away from here, right?! We should go to the post office and—” It is not until the two realize they're still in public, a sidewalk no less, that they halt from talking further.

They let the grim silence pave the way for now, at least until they could have a private space with Inspector Lunge. While waiting for their turn to pass the road, Grimmer and Tenma overhear a couple of old people talking.

“News has it that Germany has been announced to be undergoing an economic crisis.”

“And the rampant cases of money laundering still aren't solved,” the other man huffs his cigarette. “Oh man, the future restaurant I've been planning through all my retirement money is now hopeless. How can an old man like me find a job? My youngest child is still in college, for god's sake.”

“My wife's sick. Almost every hospital we went to had their rates higher than before. At this point we might as well consider her dead.”

The latter pats his back and sighs, “I'm so sorry about that, pal.”

Not long after, the old man whose wife is sick starts crying. His sobs are in sync with the pedestrian stop light turning green. The two old men cross the pedestrian holding onto each other, with Grimmer and Tenma silently watching upon them.

It doesn't take long for Tenma to start again, “Many believed that this is because of the attempted assassination of Hans Schuwald, the infamous ‘Vampire of Bayern’ known to be holding the European economy under his fingers.”

“Ah, is that so?” Grimmer chuckles, “I'm sorry, I didn't know much about it. You brought me here not long ago.”

“Exactly, the attempted assassination happened half a year ago, and the money laundering schemes have been ongoing for five years or so. It's not surprising that Germany is like this right now, whether Schuwald's assassination took place or not.”

“The assassination attempt, was the perpetrator caught?”

“No,” Tenma grimly replies, “but I know exactly who had done it.”

With Tenma's face, it doesn't take Grimmer's astuteness to figure out the answer. “Are you saying it's Johan as well…?” Tenma could only nod. “But he's so young! What're you saying next, that Johan is the person behind the large-scale money laundering scheme as well? Come on!”

“You've been having doubts until now, aren't you?” Tenma’s brows furrowed. “I told you, the only way to ensure the safety of this girl is by not having mercy on the monster who endangers her!”

Grimmer seems to be surprised himself. Was that him speaking earlier, or was it a projection of your father's emotions? “I was just asking, Tenma.”

“I know because I was there! At Schuwald's assassination attempt!” he snaps. 

Grimmer is surprised to see the usually stoic doctor like that. “I was holding my sniper, trembling but nonetheless readying myself to shoot, and Johan looked up at me with a smirk as if I was exactly in the place he wanted me to be! Only then did I realize that I am once again getting cornered to take the blame of killing Schuwald, if I weren't successful in saving him from that mess!”

Grimmer's rationale snaps back with Tenma's remark. A while ago it was too clouded and riddled by both worry in your situation and pity over the tragic predicament subjected upon you and Johan—basically what your father would've felt had he been the one hearing this. At least Tenma's voice woke him up; your father is finally not too alive in his thoughts anymore. The abomination Tenma is talking about is none but Kinderheim 511's pride. Their subjects, although generally programmed to be perfect soldiers, have their own characterization—a role if one might say—that if collated together, would fit the archetype of a great army. And now, Grimmer is slowly realizing that Johan was specifically crafted to be the commander, the leader. It doesn't make it better that Kinderheim is the very place that taught him to do so. 

“And do you want to know more about how dangerous Johan could be? Even to those people he would've been connected with emotionally?” 

Grimmer wants Tenma to expound, but at the same time his own worry for your situation stops him in cold sweat.

The urge to interrupt this blonde agent before he’s even done talking is as overwhelming as your memories. Indeed, he had excused himself last night quite coldly… but he had also suddenly showed up, unannounced, at 5:00 am. It was him you had last seen yesterday, and it's him to interrupt the vivid dream. As disoriented as you are, you're clearly not in the mood to accommodate an unexpected visitor.

You want to see Anna. You genuinely need to see Anna. 

How nice it'd feel to have her gentle hands brushing your hair; the lovely croons of her voice as she lures you to sleep; going to school together and meeting halfway at dismissal; stopping by at some market for groceries or perhaps drinking coffee together; the domestic bliss of her preparing your breakfast and you washing the dishes; everything.

Oh dear god, if he’s even listening, how you badly wish to see Anna again. 

When was the last time you even prayed this hard?

“Dear god, if I grow as big as Daddy and his workmates, would I finally be of use? Would I finally be able to help my dearest Johan?” Your prayers day and night were particularly stronger this moment with Johan clinging for dear life.

“T-thats why… I am always so scared whenever y-you come here…”

Tears blurred your vision further, “Is it because you're scared the monster would take me away?” Johan's tiny face flinched as though he felt the terror in that hypothetical setting, “Flower fields suit you more…”

“No, I don’t! I am a bad useless girl who couldn't even help you! Bad girls don't deserve a good life!”

“Y-you have to get away from here,” your little friend, for the first time in your sight, begged and called your name, “run away and never look back… Don't let the monster get you…”

“I will never leave you alone. You and the person you mustn't forget are still yet to meet, no? And I have to stay here so you won't forget her, right?!” Johan still wasn't coming back to you, so you tried uttering more—perhaps futile and ideal—reasons to stay. “T-then we will defeat the monsters! And I’ll stay beside you even after you reunite with the one you mustn't forget!”

“That… doesn't matter…” This time, Johan's face hollowed. “It wouldn't matter anyway… These monsters are making me forget Anna… and if you go, they will make me forget you too…” the thought of it drained the blood in your face. “But then again, you see… wouldn't that be nice? Nothing else would matter by then. The weight of your existence would no more burden me. The weight of Anna's existence wouldn't matter anymore. After all, death is the only constant thing… it's way more powerful than memories… than loved ones… than flowers when prairies get burnt by fires…”

“Still here, pretty?”

The nickname the agent suddenly drops is so off-putting you're immediately cut off your musings. Perhaps you're flustered—irked, rather—because much to your uncomfortability, this blonde agent has been more interactive and pressing after the events last night—it's as though he suddenly wants to be close with you. In such instances, you could even mistake his voice as Anna's, but instead of being endeared it just repulses you. And speaking of Anna, did she know of your identity this whole time? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? The person your childhood friend Johan mustn't forget was named Anna!

“Were you able to catch on what I was saying? Would you mind repeating it for me?” 

Perhaps the off-putting nickname served its purpose, though. Your irk subsides and you end up averting your gaze away in guilt, “S-sorry. I was spacing out.”

“Why so?”

“Can't you just continue?”

“Maybe after you tell me why you were spacing out?” the blonde agent quips. “It is my job to ensure the welfare of my clients.”

“Which you haven't done before, and I honestly prefer that. Didn't you tell me we should be wary of being close to each other?”

The agent seems unfazed with you addressing the elephant in the room. His gaze is filled with mirth, even. “Were you not the one who broke the rule first?” He stands up from his chair, walks towards you, and then crouches down until his face is of the same level as yours. His smile is as serene as ever, but a tinge of it bothered you. “When you asked me to eat dinner with you last night, wasn't that crossing a boundary we had established when we first met?”

“But you agreed so. The usual agent I know would decline to safely keep that boundary. You sound like I'm the only one at fault here.”

His smile widens quite a bit, “Do you feel like I'm blaming you?”

“Yes.”

No, you don't feel like he's blaming you; his knowing smile made you realize he's aware of it, too. It was rather you being guilty of showing him that specific vulnerability. You struggle keeping eye contact with him, yet you persist nonetheless—or so you try.

“My apologies, then. It's just that your case started piquing my interest last night,” he replies, albeit in defeat, after being silent for a while.

“I said something while sleeping, didn't I?”

“I don't know. You tell me.”

Oh god. What a headache. “Can we pretend last night never happened?”

“Would that include our deal?”

“Deal…?” 

“I’ll tell you my name if you manage to finish the last step today, no?” you could almost see him pout—so unlikely of his character—until you realize that it's just him being sarcastic. “Has your curiosity subsided that quickly? How unfortunate. It made me quite happy.”

The sarcasm was successful in flustering you. Nonetheless you remain composed, “Why?”

“Because my client is interested in me the same way I am with her.” 

You are silenced, then. Unable to hold it further. Eyes all over the place except his face. What a shift in the mood. As much as you're trying to keep the deal of not exceeding boundaries and shoo this visitor away, your mind is seeking comfort from someone, desperately so. Neither Anna nor Frieda's here and the only person you're with as of late is this agent. The longer it takes, the more you get fidgety at the thought of not knowing more about him. How despicable, you thought to yourself. When you say you need comfort, what exactly do you need? A fleeting crush? A physical intimacy of some sort that could fool you into thinking you're not really alone? Or do you just want to have one constant in your fleeting existence? Would a dependent, toxic attachment—projected by the desire to detach coinciding with your desperation to stay—help you? And now, tragically so, with your memories flashing intrusively, you could finally—hold on, wait.

This particular agent, one way or another, must be related to Anna. What other reason must be there for having almost identical faces?

Oh no.

“Johan! Stay with me, Johan!” you cried loudly, raw, in utter pain not for you but for the person you hold dearest. Your small stature was holding his limping one in your arms. Suddenly the room these damned-in-the-head Kinderheim supervisors put you two seemed wider—an abyss, if one might say. The large mirror, which they said they would be watching you two, swirled in your vision alongside your tears.

“Whenever you come here, I—” he cut himself off with a shaggy exhale, “—I always get scared whenever you come here.” he weakly whispered. Why? You couldn't even ask it out loud. Was the feeling not mutual? Did he actually disdain you?

“B-because… so many monsters lurk around, and—hah—”

“Monsters?” 

He nodded, then his eyes strayed away from you. It went somewhere—someplace beyond the confines of this terrifying room, a place no one but him could see. “My other half was taken by a monster… the monster brought her to the west. W-we managed to escape… but the monster…” he shuddered as if this is the first time he had registered how scary it all was—much that it confused you because he sounded like it happened long, long ago, “...the monster found us again. They separated us again. They brought me to the East.”

And your fickle little mind didn't understand any of it. You realized you couldn't actually do anything about it. This is something adults could manage. One thing about sessions with Daddy's workmates is the reiteration of how useless you are because you're a kid, of how utterly futile it is to be hopeful in this huge, huge world because you are nothing but a speck of dust—a stupid one at that—because you have nothing but your tiny, little, naivety.

Oh no.

“I—uh… I wouldn't be able to accomplish it today. Forget the deal we had last night. W-we could pretend it never happened,” you feign exhaustion, trying your hardest not to stammer and collapse in front of him. You are realizing a lot of things all at once. “Sorry for crossing the boundaries we have talked about. Let me make up for it.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“I wouldn't suggest it otherwise.”

“You see, people often say the opposite of what they want.”

“What do you mean by that—” you almost called him Johan again. You reluctantly add after gulping, “—sir?”

“You're having doubts about your plan, aren't you?”

You raise your senses up, adrenaline surging deep within as if you're suddenly in danger. “N-no! I told you I was just procrastinating—”

“You just realized the name Johan isn't something you disdain.”

“What does that have to do with this?!”

“It does a lot, you see,” the agent adds. “You say you want to run away from the monster and yet you're talking about how badly you want to be with him in your sleep.”

“I—” the color in your lips dry cold, “I said that?”

“Indeed,” the agent nods as he steps closer; you stand up from your chair and step back, “while I was ushering you to the couch, you said something to that effect.”

At this point, you try to utter anything—anything that would stop you from breaking down and crying, “A-and you know about it? You know something about Johan?”

The question answered itself upon realizing; seeing the younger version of Anna in your dreams, her male version at that, wasn't because she was the amalgamation of comfort and softness amidst all these terror happening inside your head. You've always been so intrigued—no, you were not intrigued, you were just trying to put it that way. You've always felt something uncanny was up with Anna, let alone with this agent; you just deliberately ignored it thinking they mean well not only because Anna is someone you favored immediately, but also because you never trusted yourself. All this time, the lessons Daddy and his workmates are grilled in your head even if you're still yet to remember them.

Your eyes widened, hands started to tremble, and eventually the terror got too bad you couldn't even support Johan's little weight anymore. Still, Johan had something left to say. “But, before I die… could y-you—could you please—” the fresh injection wound on his forearm throbbed in pain, and thus he hissed first before continuing, “—please call me by my name.”

“Johan,” you cried. “Your name is Johan!”

“My name…” your little friend's eyes were now hollow, as if he's reliving a memory only he knew. You weren’t even sure if he could still see you, let alone if he knew where he was, and if you could even bring him back. “Call me by my name.” You did what you could, then—the measly, trivial, nonsensical things you could. “Johan.”

“My name—”

“Johan!”

“J-Johan…?”

You feel his hands, soft as ever, cup your cheeks and softly says, “Oh dear… look at that face.” You slowly turn your gaze to his eyes and it is, indeed, the last needed confirmation. 

Hollow. Empty. In a place only he could see. 

“Seems like you finally remember me now, huh?”

Two days before Johan had shown you the fireworks up close;

Daddy saw you crying in your room after dinner while hugging the storybook Johan had liked the most—the one with a paper mache of matchsticks and flames as its cover. Aside from the grief, your mind was also occupied with the horrific flashbacks of your best friend full of freshly inflicted injection shots, utterly lethargic, unusually talkative, and debilitated with sorrow for the first time since you two had met each other. That night, Daddy cradled you to sleep; he reminded you of the things you could do for your dearest friend which includes his proposition: help Johan show you the fireworks up close. Daddy said it was Johan's utmost wish.

You didn't even know if it was true, but with your grief-riddled mind and desperation to be with Johan again and give him the things he truly deserves, you agreed.

“I went to Kinderheim today. Would you like to know what happened after Johan and you were separated?”

“What did he say? Please! Please tell me!”

“He begged them. He begged them to not let him forget Anna. Then, he begged to see you after. Even if he were to die, he would like to see you again.”

Oh, how it filled you with bittersweet warmth. Johan just said that it wouldn't matter anymore. He sounded so defeated, so tired, so ready and willing to die, and yet he still managed to beg them thereafter. At the same time, you were filled with anger with the monsters in Kinderheim, with the monsters who took him away from the one he mustn't forget. You vehemently hoped Johan could be strong enough at least until you see each other again. And maybe, just maybe, you two would be able to defeat the monster tormenting him along the way.

More than that, you felt Daddy to be a bit more likable than usual. Was it because he pitied his useless little child? It felt foreign but nonetheless warm. You wondered why your father had never introduced you to such pleasant feelings.

Nevermind, not like you have the capacity to think about it anyway. The important thing is not only did you finally know the name of the person Johan mustn't forget (Anna is such a wonderful name!) but you also are part of his wishes. How warm. How utterly warm it is to be loved. Daddy tucked you in bed and, instead of coldly leaving you as per usual, he read you the storybook you were clinging to for dear life—the one with a paper mache of matchsticks and flames as its cover.

When you wake up, your hands are tied together on your back. You're seated on the floor, legs sore, and have nowhere else to lean on besides the cold white wall.

The last thing you remembered was Johan's remark, ‘Oh look at that face. Seems like you finally remember me now,’ then, you fainted at the overwhelming dread. A buff man squats down to your level and reaches his hand for a shake. He introduces himself as Roberto. A man behind him, however, heaves a laugh, “You bastard. How could she shake your hand when you tied her up like that!” 

Roberto chuckles while scratching his head. “My bad, my bad. I’m jus’ joking, jus’ tryin' to lighten up the room.”

Another man squats to your level, “How about you? What's your name?” You keep your head down the floor, ignoring the rapid heartbeat ringing in your ears out of trepidation. You've got the urge to spit at them out of spite, but they're holding guns. There are approximately six men inside this room that could overpower you if need be. 

Due to your lack of an answer, the man then tries to touch your cheek only for Roberto to slap it away. “He said you're not allowed to do that, boy.”

“But doesn't it thrill you more to touch a girl when it's forbidden? Look at how pliant she is. Look at her gaze down like that. She surely knows her place, no?”

“Ah,” Roberto let out an exasperated sigh then stood up, a silent ‘what happens next ain't my business now.’ implied. Indeed, Johan sounded serious with that command but not that Roberto cares much about you to strictly implement that. “I warned you.”

The stranger holds onto your chin to tilt your head up. “Oh, isn't she a pliant lass?” but his smile is immediately replaced with a frown upon seeing you glare. “Come on, how about a smile on those pretty lips of yer’s—”

You spit on his face. The last thing expected of a ‘pliant girl.’ The man avenged his dirtied cheek out of impulse by slapping you hard; you fell to the floor.

Roberto shakes his head, looks at his watch, and nonchalantly walks away. He's got more important things to do than guarding some trivial girl so early in the morning. His fleeting irk, however, lies at Johan's reaction once he sees the bruise on your cheek due to these men who don't know any better. 

Your mind, hazy with the slap, is further blanked out after a series of punches. They said something along the lines of ‘feisty bitch,’ ‘presenting yourself meek when you're no different from whores covered with spit’ and other insults that could make even a grown man cry. And yet you couldn't mind it much due to your dissociation. “The only reason we're not killing you yet is because he could have your body at his disposal to relax himself. The moment he fucks you ‘til it’s out of his system? Oh, you'll be so dead to us.”

Is this how these deranged men see your relationship with Johan?

“Would he even know if we were to lay our hands on this girl before he arrives?”

“Don't even try unless you want your head shot!” the other man barks. “Let him have his way first. We'll pass her one by one next.”

You see, even if they were to undress you this instant you wouldn't be able to scream because of how utterly hollow you feel. Defeated. Eyes devoid of light. Just waiting for the doom to arrive.

“What an interesting proposal.” 

The familiar voice is more than enough to rattle everyone inside the room. No one even senses his arrival. The wicked smiles flush into something akin to guilt and horror, as if a grim reaper came to judge them of their sins. You almost flinch at how eerily benign his voice is, but his face, much emptier than yours, answers the question of what's about to transpire in this room.

“J-Johan—Sir, that's not what we—”

“Would you mind repeating what you just said?”

Everyone, including you, looks at him in horror. Is this somehow part of his deranged eccentricities? Does he plan to have all these men demonstrate what they mean when they say ‘passing your body around one by one after Johan's done with you?’

However, the men are too scared to speak. All their bravado lost, compared to how they talked about the things they've said mere seconds ago. Johan, on the other hand, seems to be losing his patience with their silence. 

“Would anyone like to repeat what he just said?” However, instead of looking around the room for answers, Johan instead looks at you; his expression perilously unreadable. 

No one dares to follow.

“It's okay, it's okay,” Johan assures the now trembling henchmen, “I quite like a good show, I must admit.” Johan’s eyes glisten at his own statement—an excitement if you squint—indicating that he knows exactly what he's talking about. It fills your gut with absolute dread. Johan's gaze turns to the man who insulted you and asks, “What was it? You'd like to pass and share her body around for everyone's pleasure, you say?”

Roberto shakes his head in dismay. He turns around the wall in disgust. Indeed he had seen much during his prime, but it certainly doesn’t entail liking it.

But seems like Johan isn’t taking it. “Why, Roberto?” he quips. “Not gonna watch?”

There’s a subtle undertone in his tease that sends shivers down Roberto’s spine—one Johan usually uses to reprimand him for his inadequacies.

“S-sorry,” Roberto’s voice comes off weakly at first, until he sighs, “too young for my tastes.” 

The man shakily standing beside Roberto interjects, “S-sir, we were just—”

“Now,” Johan claps his hands together with much eagerness, ”anyone who’d like to do the same… how about you raise your hand now, hm? It’s only a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all…”

Their expression softens and one of them even lets out a sigh. Turns out he's not that angry over it, huh. The person stained by your spit is the first to raise his hand. Then the one who tried to stop him earlier in fear of angering Johan raises his hand next. The other one at the corner of the room meekly follows not long after.

“Good, good. No one else?” Much to your confusion, Johan's eyes didn't leave you. Instead, he subtly takes his time noting your bruises, one on your lip, two on your swollen cheeks, and a black eye forming on your right. Typical. No doubt they’ve been too rough with you for his and your liking.

And so you counted it yourself; one, two, three, four, excluding Roberto and the other man who seems too scared of Johan—almost everyone in the room undoubtedly wants to take their turn with you. It makes you want to throw up. How did the softest friend you know grow up like this, willing to stand back and watch as each of these men do what they will, like deranged animals in heat? If Johan, your dearest childhood friend, really grew up to be someone this unhinged, this—this—sick, then he—

Bang. Bang

You let out a high-pitched gasp. Your ears are ringing— 

Bang. Bang.

You hear the thud of a heavy body slam against the floor. It’s—

Bang. Bang

Something wet splatters on your cheek.

You don’t need to move your eye to notice the crimson color of it. You don’t want to see it.

Johan honestly must've known better, though, because as much as these men fear him, they still are rotten to their core; they are mercenaries drawn to violence as much as he is even in a different manner. He’s usually amused hearing human beings’ downright tendency to depravity—it’s an innate nature he could never use against anyone. Just like how he had loved listening to his war veteran neighbor’s stories while his foster parents were out back in the day. The pain human beings inflict upon each other to assert dominance. It amused him to no end.

This is the only instance he had felt an actual disgust—a normal emotional response—to depravity. How interesting.

The last man who had raised his hand starts crying apologies to Johan on his knees (how utterly despicable it is that they're apologizing to him, not to you).

Bang. Bang. 

One for the aim and one for a sure death. And that's it. His hands are not shaking, eyes devoid of glint—just how many people have gone under the mercy of his bullets? You could only ask yourself.

Out of five mercenaries trying to insult you before his arrival, Johan was able to establish a point with the only man left alive because he didn't dare raise his hand at the earlier question. He is visibly shaking, looking at the corpses of his then comrades.

 And, as if there's no greater concern at hand, Roberto just rolls his eyes and whispers to himself, “Great. Another mess to clean up.” Oh, the more important things he would've attended to if not for Johan's strict temper today.

“A mess indeed,” Johan kneels to you, opens up a bottle of water, and lifts it to your mouth. You were forced to gulp down a bit of it, but you swat his hand away with your face, trembling. The water spills to the ground. Johan, as much as he lacks patience with others, is far from being perturbed this time around. Instead, he gets a white handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wipes the blood off your cheeks, “Would you like me to get you another? I know how thirsty you are right now.”

“Don't touch me,” you hiss at him.

Johan smiles amusingly. If he'd be perfectly honest, he had wanted to play a bit more with the arrangement you two had. You lowering your guard at him gave him the satisfaction he never once thought he'd have. It was so lovely watching you sleep, talk to him with ease, and every other benefit given to him after you foolishly trusted his version of Anna—something he wouldn't call fake because he is Anna, and Anna is him.

With the looming silence between you two, Roberto and the trembling mercenary take it as a signal to excuse themselves, thankfully so, for Johan asked something very personal.

“Do you remember everything now?”

You do not answer, not letting him control the emotional narrative the same way he does with your physical situation right now. However, you mustn't take this man lightly for you are yet to know the things he's responsible for—let alone how much control he holds over you and every element in your surroundings. 

After five minutes or so, he adds, “Apologies, I suppose that's a bit of a heavy topic to start off, no? Let's start with a small talk, then.” He sits properly, facing your tied up figure, his head level with yours. “How about we talk about the Inspector and his perpetually smiling friend?” you try your best to not let the flinch on your face show. “I wonder, have you ever told them about the lovely mother cat and her kittens that used to live below our apartment complex?” 

Your eyes widen. Your hands that are tied to your back start shaking in fear. Nevermind the fact that he just called your apartment ours. That is no small talk but rather a perilous warning. The floor may be dusty white, but this is an eggshell if Johan's around. One tiny step and everything would crumble. Their lives, as dear as they are to you, could turn into dust with a snap of his fingers. 

“Have you told them what happened to the mother cat? To the kittens? You seemed to hold Mr. Grimmer in a much nicer regard than the Inspector. Were you close enough? Were you able to open up your grievances about the death of those cats, regarding their survival as nothing but fleeting fortuities?”

“I…” you start, gulping down the urge to throw up then and there, “I don't…”

“Hm?” Johan's head tilts. Benign, curious, just as if he's talking to a friend. “Come again? I couldn't hear you.”

“I haven't… remembered all of it… yet…” you bite your lips, swallowing your pride, trying your hardest not to cry. You hate being overpowered like this. You feel like you're in a session with Daddy and his colleagues again. “I haven't remembered everything yet. My recollections are staggered; it cuts itself midway, and sometimes it doesn't even make sense.”

The room is silent for a while.

Johan's the one to cut it off. “No worries, no worries,” much to your distaste, he touches the corner of your eyes with his fingers. You don’t even know when you started crying. “That's not something to cry for. I'm not like them. I'm not gonna punish you for failing to answer a measly question.” 

His touch is light; one could wonder if it really took place. It's almost comforting too, or so he presents, because his remark just punched you in the gut. It means he knows everything. He knows every single detail about you, about what you went through, perhaps even those you're still yet to remember. After wiping your tears away, he suggests, “Then, don't you think I could help? Where do we start…”

What he said next didn't help you ground yourself at all—it didn't help you internalize that you're not in some session with the Kinderheim crew.

“Shall we start talking about the storybook you've always brought to me? The one that has a paper mache of matchsticks and flames as its cover?”

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🏷️ @bianca4evers @lyneyenthusiast @suntizme @hyejohann @onasvigo @hannn-iee @bisexualgirlie @eurydiceofterabithia @hopingggforthebest @hnna001 @Meupaunoseuouvido @fuoon @clairehyee @nashwa @skiiaini11

SPECIAL MENTION TO @suusoh who helped me with this painstakingly long chapter. this has 7k words during the first draft and it's dragging so much I couldn't even bring myself to publish it but she saved my ass. ily kween mother. check her out!! my fave work of hers is this one KJSKSJKSJ 

i tried making the POV consistent by narrating through your (reader's) lenses but i realized this story would go nowhere if we were only to rely on your usual absentminded ass (much to johan's benefit). no worries tho. character development coming right up next chap! also, we're almost done folks :D thanks for sticking through and being patient despite my slow updates!

get this ugly mf away from me

[lesbianturrets]

Guys, does it seem like true homosexual behavior when you’re tugging at the cloth of your other half? Joking of course, NOWWW- oh i am so scared but so excited too?? I MEAN, ITS PROBABLY DOOMSDAY IN THIS CHAPTER, showing what the name is even called soooo. hold on tight gay gang

(also the background is suspicious too, that doesn’t look like London AT ALL. Maybe i’m stupid and London used to have coasts looking this pretty, but as an AP history student, yyeeeeeaaahhh.. not during the industrial revolution era. It looks similar to the Highlands of Scotland, which makes sense because Jekyll is actually Scottish, hopefully none of you have forgotten that)

[auliisflower]

TAKE ALL THE LOVE

you’ll be safe in my romance, babe

JANIS IMI’IKE X GN!READER

so this isn’t even a request but i fucking love this song (also i’m writing this instead of studying for my exams but its wtvr)

Y/n had never really been interested in getting in to a relationship. Well, not until her.

Janis Imi’ike

Oh god. Y/n could talk about her for days on end. How she would ink little drawings on her hands when she got bored in History class. Or even the little stickers of eyes and random doodles she had in her locker.

She was something else. And Y/n was intrigued, to a point that even their friends had noticed something different about them. Because how could you not notice someone like her? Janis was smart, funny, incredibly gorgeous, talented, artsy, did she mention gorgeous?

Y/n wasn’t technically a nobody at school. They were a part of the debate club, the book club, Hell, they were even a class representative in the student council. But the feeling that they couldn’t shake off was why did they feel like Janis was the only one who didn’t know they existed at school?

Y/n was pining, hard. Which is weird because they haven’t even made a move on Janis yet. “This is so stupid” Y/n thought.

Fuck it.

Highschool will eventually end anyway, what’s the harm in trying to hit up your hot crush? Y/n decided that they’ll introduce themselves to Janis tomorrow. A bold moment for them, surprisingly. But you gotta work for what you want, right?

Doomsday had already come too soon, Y/n strutted into school heading straight for homeroom to wait for lunch. Y/n and Janis had only ever shared two classes. History and Art. Well today, unfortunately, they had no classes together. So lunch it is.

As soon as the bell rang students flooded the hallways to go to the cafeteria. “Are we really doing this?” Y/n thought, “Yes, stupid. Don’t be a wuss” they argued with themselves as their hands fiddled with their headphone wires.

The cafeteria was packed with students, as per usual. Y/n heard their name being called over at the designated “model student table” which was a bunch of crappy, rich douchebags who only ever got as far as their daddy’s money would take them.

“Hey, Keira” Y/n greeted the Student Council President. Keira nodded in response, “So I was wondering if you could come over to my house after school today?” She questioned Y/n. “I just need some help with that annoying Calculus assignment Mrs. Norbury gave us.” She continued when Y/n hadn’t uttered a word in response.

“Oh.” Y/n squeaked out. “Sure.” They replied shortly, not wanting to waste anytime on talking with someone who only wanted them for their brains.

“Thanks love!” Keira winked at Y/n who uncomfortably shuffled around on their feet. Y/n nodded back to Keira as to end their conversation.

Do you ever get that feeling where you know someone’s watching you but you can’t pinpoint who? Yeah, that’s what Y/n was feeling as their conversation with Keira Oliver ended.

Y/n glanced around the cafeteria full of hungry teens and their eyes landed on the “Art Freaks Table”

Janis.

Y/n’s eyes locked with her big brown eyes for a second before she hurriedly looked over to Damian who she was sitting with. Janis laughed awkwardly and Damian stared at her weird.

Huh.

Cute.

Y/n walked over to their table and stood infront of Janis. Was she blushing? Or was the room just crowded?

“Hi!” Y/n grinned at her. “Oh, um-“ Janis muttered out. “Janis, right?” Y/n continued, smiling sweetly at the shorter girl. Y/n could hear someone clear their throat and immediately greeted Damian. “And Damian, hello.”

“Hi, Y/n, what brings you to the art freaks? What’s a goody-two-shoes like you doing here?” Janis finally got her act together, putting up a cold façade because there’s no way this perfect of a person would come up to her without malicious intent.

Damian shot Janis a “I like them, don’t be rude” look. Y/n cleared their throat and answered “Nothing much, I just wanted to say I really liked your art piece at the convention last Friday night!” Y/n grinned at her.

“Oh. Well, um, thank you!” Janis blushed at the them. Damn they was even prettier up close. “Well, I was wondering if you could maybe help me out with a piece I was doing for our art class. I know you’re the best in art, so I figured you were the right person to ask” Y/n laughed nervously

“Shit, shit, shit, oh my fucking god” they thought internally.

“Oh that thing where we have to do a portrait of self reflection? I’m totally down!” Janis replied to Y/n, her cheeks reddening at how Y/n’s eyes lit up at the response.

“Oh really? Cool! So, um, I’ll just see you after school? Is that okay?” Y/n asked carefully.

“Absolutely! I’ll see you soon, Y/n” Janis grinned up at them. God they were so cute. Y/n smiled sheepishly and replied “Thanks, Janis” carefully brushing their hand lightly against Janis’ on the lunch table.

As they walked away, Janis let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “So you and that hottie, huh?” Damian giggled at her.

“Dude, shut up!” Janis smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

Keep me guessing but don’t keep me waiting for us.

(Hello gays so there will be a part two to this so don’t worry guys!!!! I just have like no motivation rn but I swear I’m trying my best forgive me rn plz)