#he literally calls himself a liability when he gets it initially

[herosparade]

if i think a little too hard about sonic during the zombot arc i start exploding

[terrence-silver]

What do you think about the headcanon that Terry never cared for John, he merely felt indebted to him?

All due respect, I think it is the silliest headcanon I've ever heard.

It over-simplifies their relationship catastrophically.

I mean, just the opening few minutes of TKK3 are an indicator there's mutual affection and close-knit friendship between these two. Look at this body language! The minute Terry sees John, his face literally lights up. Only for him to proceed running into John's arms and hugging it out, asking him if he was moving in the very second he spotted John's duffle bag. This interaction alone seems oddly...pure (considering who they are)...for it to be based on feelings of debt and guilt.

In the aftermath, proceeding on insisting having revenge for him, sending him on vacation, driving him to the airport personally, enthusiastically swapping revenge plans on an overseas call from a steam room, buying dojo locations for him...well, you know the whole story. I think Terry loved John. I think he still loves him. He didn't feel indebted as much as he had a fiercely sense of loyalty to the man at the time. Never felt controlled by it until he was left, I think. I get this impression Terry's willing to burn the world so long as the subject he's doing it for is there, with him, by his side, and that act of carnage doesn't come as a burden. I think the hurt and the baggage came with the fallout of the loss of the '85 tournament. I think that's around the time the care he harboured for John started leaving a sour aftertaste in Terry's mouth, because he was pretty much abandoned after he, through his own lenses, did so much to ensure a victory that never happened (probably felt majorly humiliated too). He could've tracked down John. He's Terry Silver. He chose not to. Terry hanging up the phone after hearing John's voice, offering to write him a cheque, initially rejecting his offer to run Cobra Kai again (and on a speculative note, it is understandable) reeks of heartbreak, bitterness and love and friendship turned cynical after three decades. An understanding that while John's absence hurts, it is probably for the better. That's when he started feeling controlled. Because John disappeared from his life, undoubtedly shattered him only to re-appear when he needed a favour. But, to have never cared for John, as in John himself? Yeah, no. That's a bit too revisionist.

That bit of quote by Cersei Lannister comes to mind here;

-"The more people you love, the weaker you are. You'll do things for them you know you shouldn't do. You'll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe..."-

I think Terry felt like a fool too. I think the full force of his life being saved in Vietnam hinged over his head really heavily during John's absence and that it didn't matter as much while John was around. I think this is when he started feeling stifled and troubled by it and that he had all this care and devotion he didn't know where to invest anymore, nor did he want to, because the last time he did it, it backfired. Probably why in S4EP1 he was surrounded with nobody who knew him in any way except in a surface level sense and nobody he seemed to tremendously care for seeing as how quickly he discarded the same people. I think that after John left, Terry felt like, yes, this is a weakness, where it wasn't before. Being loyal is a weakness. To be this affected. To be this attached. To care for someone this much. Surely, it is a liability? Surely, John leaving was the best thing that has ever happened. So, he chose not to do it again, namely, get tremendously involved emotionally and maintain his self-control, until John re-appeared and with him re-appeared a lifetime of reminders. I think John's Terry's weakness; both John as a concept, and the man. This friendship is messy, complex, co-depedent, it hingers on trauma bonding, and it is stupendously nuanced but it also comes with a sense of a really bloody camaraderie, an psychotic understanding of each other nobody in their lives can replicate, with all the intensity in the world, with adoration, with hero-worship, with loathing, with the feelings of being jilted and it is easily the most interesting relationship in the whole franchise.

[batsandbugs]

A Kiss With a Fist

AN: Hey everyone another fic coming at you! This is for the Maribat Drabble Exchange hosted by @eat0crow I’m so excited to be participating! My fic was for @pixiebuggiewrites​ who wanted a Daminette soulmate fic. Sorry I couldn’t squeeze anybody else in here it was already getting pretty long! I hope you all enjoy! You can also read it here on ao3! (Pictures are NOT mine)

Damian stormed away from the hotel, aggressively zipping his coat. He didn’t care where he was going, only that it was away from here.

He didn’t want to be in Paris. He didn’t want to watch out for incompetent amateurs. He didn’t want to ‘control your anger, Damian’. He wanted to be sent home.

The calm night taunted him, the Parisian streets were too bight and too clean, resembling nothing like his dark city. He missed patrolling, he missed his animals, hell, a part of him (a small, barely negligible part he would never admit to) even missed his siblings. But no, he was stuck here, under his father’s orders until the situation in Paris drew to a conclusion.

Considering it took five years for outside help to be even called in, he had no clue how long the mission would last. He still hadn’t met the so-called-heroes of Paris, but the research he conducted showed they were ill-trained, undisciplined, and relying on so much luck it was a fucking miracle their city wasn’t a smoking ruin by now.

He sighed, sticking his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He regretted not grabbing his gloves in his storm out. He’d been so irritated at his father that even though the man was on the other side of a screen, half-way across an ocean, Damian needed to physically leave to calm his anger. It left him little time to grab essentials for a chilly winter night like a hat, or gloves. He considered himself lucky for remembering to grab a coat at all.

He wandered for a solid hour, the cold sinking into his bones chilling the raging inferno that always seemed to bubble inside him. By the time he no longer wanted to scream at anyone, he was sufficiently lost, considering he hadn’t taken his phone with him either.

Coming to rest on a bridge he took a seat on a small bench. He puffed a warm breath of air into his chilly hands rubbing them together. Nighttime in Paris was so… different compared to Gotham. While big cities never truly slept, this was positively peaceful in comparison to what he was used to. He hadn’t even heard a single sound of ruckus or distress, which seemed strange considering the city was currently besieged by a magical butterfly terrorist.

Damian inwardly scoffed. Butterfly terrorist. True, being a Gothamite meant no room to judge, but he found it hard to think of a stranger string of words.

He sighed; Damian didn’t even know what his father wanted him to do here. Sure, he knew French and was a proficient fighter, but what could that even lend to the situation? They needed a detective, and, as much as he hated to admit it, Drake would have been the better option in that department. Unfortunately, he was off-world. Grayson was dealing with a problem in Hong Kong with Cass. Brown was paired with the rest of the Sirens taking care of Gotham along with Batman, and Todd…

Well, even he recognized what an awful choice Todd would be against a villain who literally used strong negative emotions as his weapon of choice. Damian had a temper; Todd was a ticking-time-bomb.

A high-pitched screech cut through the night air, before being noticeably muffled. Damian was on his feet and running before he even mentally acknowledged it. The thud of his boots on the cobblestone bridge sent small shocks through his legs. Another large clatter directed him off to a side street a couple of feet away. Three men had cornered a tiny slip of a woman, who held her purse like a weapon.

Damian saw red. “Hey, why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” he yelled in French. There was one benefit to being in a foreign city, Damian did not have to play the part of a clueless rich kid who couldn’t hold his own in a fight.

The brutes turned to him and grinned mean smiles. One guy stepped forward. “Come on man, we’re just having a little fun. You can join if you-” Damian cut off the disgusting words with a jab to the nose. Then he spun around, sweeping the second guy’s feet from underneath him, hitting him with a punch to the face to knock him out cold. The first guy hadn’t lost consciousness, but he was doubled over which allowed Damian to knee him in the stomach. Another punch to the face and he was out cold too.

He turned to finish off the last guy, only to see the woman roundhouse kicking him to the head. The burly man fell with a thud. The alley turned eerily silent, the only sounds coming from the sharp breaths of both Damian and the girl. His pulse fluttered fast; the heat of the battle warmed his chilled limbs.

A red purse laid on the ground near his feet. Picking it up he walked over to the small woman, no teen she looked about his age, who was still sharply breathing.

“Here, this is-” a blur is all he saw before a sharp pain spread across his nose.

Did she-

Did she just punch him in the face?

The shock of it sent him sprawling onto the ground, and he blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. Damian cradled his throbbing nose, anger bubbled once more under his skin before-

*Zing*  

The connection hit him like a train. A deep well of rightness spreading through him. He looked up through bleary eyes to find the woman staring at him in similar shock.

“You’re my soulmate,” they sputtered at each other.

Damian inwardly groaned. The League made initiates kill their soulmate should they ever find them to prove their loyalty. He grew up never wanting to find his soulmate, knowing they would serve as nothing but a distraction and weakness. Even when he joined his father, the idea seemed an unneeded liability. Sure, his brothers found their soulmates within the superhero community, but what were the chances he would too?

A small whimper escaped the mouth of the guy lying unconscious on the ground, knocked out by the woman the universe thought would be the perfect match for him. Damian tilted his head. She might not be a superhero, but maybe the universe knew him better than he first imagined.

“OhmygoshIamsosorry!” the flood of words spilled from his soulmate’s mouth, her face a deep shade of red. “I was just-”

“Acting on instinct and adrenaline? Appropriate, considering the threat you just faced,” he said without anger. “Your right hook is sufficiently adequate.”

“Um… thanks? Are you alright though?” She extended a hand to help him off the ground. He took it, his larger hand enveloped hers, but she showed a surprising amount of strength as she pulled him up. The contact sent another *zing* through his body, smaller and more subdued though. Damian found himself reluctant to let go.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” He suffered worse in training before. With the initial pain dissipated, all that was left was a dull throbbing that would be gone by morning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said with a bright smile. He took the chance to finally observe his soulmate. She was small, couldn’t be more than 5’2, which meant at 6’1 he towered over her. She was of mixed descent, with dark hair spilling over her shoulders, and bright blue eyes. Her arms and legs were toned with muscle, and she held herself with grace and confidence. She wore a face of tasteful makeup and was clothed in a short red dress and a pair of strappy heels with no jacket in sight. He had no clue how she wasn’t freezing to death.

Her smile dimmed a bit. “Actually, no, I’ve had better days. Today has kinda been a perfect disaster; first I’m late for school, then I forgot my homework, and my class bully decided it was a pick-on-Marinette day. There’s a three-hour Akuma fight, involving mind-control, which is always a total drag. I finally get home to find my parents worried sick about me because I hadn’t answered my phone which got destroyed at the beginning of the fight. I go to my class’s senior Valentine’s day dance hoping to finally confess to the guy I’ve had a crush on for years, only to get humiliated because he already has a girlfriend, and everyone else in my class knew and decided not to tell me. When I get away not to cause a scene, not only do I forget my jacket, but I also get attacked by three bumbling idiots with more mouths than brains.” She chuckled, hollow and verging on manic.

Damian stood there, unsure how to take all of that. He filed away the fact she was being bullied, and that she commonly dealt with Akuma attacks. Both equally important, as far as he was concerned.

“Now, here I am, standing in front of my gorgeous soulmate I punched in the face, after beating up said earlier idiots, rambling my mouth off because I don’t know the meaning of the word chill. Yep! I’ve certainly had better days. Ohmygoshimatotalmesskillmenow.” She muttered the last part into her hands, but Damian understood her all the same.

He would come back to the gorgeous thing later.

“…Do you want my jacket? You look cold.” It wasn’t the smoothest thing he could have said, nor the most appropriate considering the mess of a day she’d had. However, the manners Alfred drilled into his brain came knocking and if he was cold with a turtle-neck long-sleeved shirt and a jacket, she must be freezing in all that… nothingness. He averted his eyes from her exposed skin, looking at her face instead.

His soulmate looked at him for a long moment, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“You know what, yeah, a jacket would be nice,” she said in a tired voice. Damian shed his coat quickly, not minding the sharp sting of cold that hit him. He helped his soulmate into the sleeves and took an odd little pleasure in seeing how tiny she looked in the folds of his jacket.  

“I’m Marinette, by the way, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She wrapped the jacket closer cuddling into the heat. “Sorry for kinda freaking out on you there.”

“The kind of day you’ve had has surely broken lesser mortals. Any coping method is your due. I’m Damian, Damian Wayne. It’s a pleasure to meet you Marinette.” He smiles, although the gesture feels odd, trying to appear non-threatening. While his soulmate (and maybe he was coming around to this faster than he thought possible) was obviously skilled at dealing with a variety of stressors, he didn’t want to add any more and risk her being akumatized.

“You as well Damian.” She shivered despite the added protection of his coat, as a gust of wind swept through the alleyway. “As much fun as this conversation has been, it might be best for us to get out of the cold.”

“Indeed. What will we do with these inconveniences?” he asked, poking one of the guys with the tip of his boot.

She sighed, picking her purse from the ground where he’d dropped it. “We’ll call the police to come pick them up. They’ll be cold, but fine.”

Damian scowled, “It’s better than they deserve.” He sneered at the guy who offered for Damian to join them. Join them in assaulting this tiny, bright girl, who’d been through enough. His soulmate. The bubbling rage began anew, and he wished he’d done more than just knock them unconscious, they deserved far worse for thinking, daring, to touch-

A small hand rested on his arm, dragging him out of his violent thoughts. “I’m fine Damian. Even if you hadn’t arrived, I would have been fine. I can hold my own in a fight. This is Paris after all.”

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “Fine. We’ll leave them to their fates.” And if their fates happened to involve complete ruination of their online lives, credit scores, and secure information? Well, that was hardly his fault, now was it?

“There’s a good café opened late around the corner. Would you- would you like to go there?” Marinette asked.

Damian smiled at the tentative offer. “I would very much enjoy that, yes. I’ve been out for longer than I should, coffee would be great right about now.” She giggled and he felt his stomach flutter. Funny, giggling always annoyed him, but that bright clear sound... he could grow used to that.

Walking out of the dark alley, listening to Marinette talk to the police on her phone, Damian sighed. The streets no longer felt too clean, or the lights too bright. Yes, he was colder, and yes this was a complication, but for some reason, Damian could not bring himself to care.

Maybe Paris wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[rachetmath]

Favorite (Characters)

Ruby: *barges in* RatchetMath!

Me: What is it Ruby?

Ruby: You’re showing favoritism.

Me: Okay. And?

Ruby: You need to stop. Why not draw us for once?

Me: Hm, maybe because I like Jaune more. Hell I like Penny and Neo more than you or your team.

Ruby: Why?!

Me: Because your team is horrible.

Ruby: So is team JNPR!

Me: Yeah, but only because they have to follow you. They have some individuality but we don’t explore that as much. Plus, your team would be dead without them. But you know what Ruby, I would rather draw Yang, Blake or any other character except Weiss than you right now.

Ruby: What?! But I’m-

Me: The main character that barely does main character things. Woman, Salem was in Atlas! Why was she not your top priority? Why was James your problem?

Ruby: Um well…

Me: Ruby, she knows your mother! She might know what happened to her! I get Yang was some levels your mom but shouldn’t learning what happened to your actual mom be just as important? Especially after that dark memory.

Ruby: That is true.

Me: You have silver eyes but you still don’t know how to use them. There was army of grimm around Mantle and that would have been good practice. And a better solution than Ren.

Ruby: But then I be overpowered.

Me: No. Ruby your silver eyes only work on one person. If someone sneaks up on you or doesn’t care about that light you give off then, you’re dead. Maria is proof on that.

Ruby: Um..

Me: Plus, the question that everyone in the audience could have an answer to is whether your silver eyes can even work on Salem. In all honesty, it proves the writer don’t keep track of the characters and their personalities to where they fit together in story. You know what I have been making skits, trying to be funny but… the jokes died. Look guys I-I’m sorry but… let me explain.

1. Ruby and Blake should have stayed in Mantle. Why?

1. Salem is the main villian. She knows Ruby’s mother. You know the same mother who left for a mission and didn’t come back. The same mother, who Ruby knows nothing about while everyone seems to have different perspectives of her. Or has a better clue on who she is, than Ruby herself. Plus wasn’t Salem after her too? She basically would be killing two birds with one stone by kidnapping Oscar and giving Ruby a reason to see her. That way Ruby isn’t assuming what happened to her mother. Let Salem antagonize Ruby. (Question: Can silver eyes work on Salem?)

2. Perfect training for silver eyes. Let’s face it, Ren proved to us he can mask a bunch of people without Jaune’s help. All he needed was concentration. However, Ruby is more effective because silver eyes seem to be able to destroy multiple grimm on sight. And with lives on the line that gives Ruby plenty of reason to start using them.

3. Ren calling Ruby out on her issues. Look I loved how Ren was willing to tell the truth, but him revealing Jaune cheated Beacon was… weak. Reason being it relates to Jaune’s character and Ren still follows Jaune’s orders. However, Ruby, who is supposed to be a prodigy because she came to Beacon two years ahead of her class, has not proven once that she is worthy of such praise. The only reason-The ONLY reason Ruby was enrolled into Beacon was her silver eyes. Ruby even in volume one has been nothing but liability. Initiations, she almost dies from a Stinger. Stake out, she almost got run over by a truck and it ended in failure. First mission, she gets kidnapped and almost destroyed a city block. Roman, a man with no semblance or aura continues to beat her four times in a row. And it gets worse. Ruby almost got her uncle killed. She was the first to get knocked out by Emerald. Almost dies by a robot and Godzilla. And the moment she arrived in Atlas her first move was to lie to James. She didn’t even try to stop Tyrian when she saw him. She had her gun with her too. Ren is not her sister, he might as well tell her the facts so she can do better.

4.  Blake is Faunus. Mantle hates faunuses. Why not have Blake help them to prove faunuses are people too? Let Blake represent her people. I mean Velvet and Sun represent faunses more than she does her whole existence. Blake also can relate to Ren’s problem. How? Blake was a part of the White Fang, so there were expectations she had to fulfill. Especially when trying to measure up to Adam. However, she explains the longer she was in the White Fang, the more she found out how messed up and extremely bias it was. Including with Adam to the point she decided to leave. She even states she was lucky that Yang even forgave her after all the trouble she caused her. Blake challenged her bias nature, and it made her stronger for it. Blake would be basically telling Ren the more he tries to live up to someone else’s expectations, without seeing their flaws, the more he loses touch with himself and everyone around him.

5.  Oscar shouldn’t have been able break out of Salem on his own: I’m sorry but… Oscar got beat up. Took a magic beam to the chest. Had to switch between him and Ozpin and mind you he had no aura to help him. He should be tired and unable to move. (In my opinion, this kid was given too much screen time. At first I was worried about him but now I’m wondering why was I worrying at all.)

2. Jaune and Yang should have gone to Atlas.

1. Penny is basically Pyrrha in the opposite light. Penny’s special because she’s a robot with a soul, a mind of her own and an attitude to prove it. She is just as human as everyone else, but no one seems to treat her as such. James only sees her as something of a weapon. Pietro treats her like child even though she’s more mature than the rest of the female cast, except Maria. And now with maiden powers, everyone is out casting Penny even more. Jaune is perfect for her because he has experience with this kind of issue. However, he would’ve had to take different route to the situation considering his failure with Pyrrha last time they had discussion on maiden powers or responsibilities (Destiny.).

2. Jaune already has been a part of maiden business since volume three. His reason to be with Penny would be make sure she doesn’t meet the same fate as Pyrrha or Amber. Not just for himself but for others around him. Especially since Cinder was in Atlas and is willing to hunt her down for the maiden powers. And James was willing to turn Penny into a soulless machine to follow his every command. (Actually, Watts is more a fault considering he hates Pietro.). James and Cinder are also opposite to Jaune in some ways.  James earned his position and earned respect from his military. Jaune on the other hand cheated, and unlike James might not have everybody’s respect. Cinder treats her allies like tools. And with power she just consumes and gives nothing return. Jaune however treats his allies like family. And instead of just taking power he gives power to others around him. He’s the reason Cinder has maiden powers. So, him making it his personal mission to make sure Cinder doesn’t get more power only increases his resolve to protect Penny. (Especially since he already had to kill her in the canon finale.)  In other words, James and Cinder purposed a challenge to Jaune. Can he pervert history from repeating itself? Can he really protect the maiden powers? Is he truly worthy of being a huntsman? What is he willing to risk in achieving his goal? (Also let’s be clear. Hazel beat Oscar down for the password to the relic. James shot the kid and was willing to let him fall to his death. Qrow intentionally punched the kid.  I don’t care if it was for Ozpin, he still punched Oscar. Lion before even knowing Oscar was Ozpin reincarnation was already about kill him anyways. All Jaune did was push him to a wall. Yes, Jaune still would have hurt Oscar, but he didn’t. He walked away.)  

3.  A lot of the situations could’ve been avoided or mattered if Jaune was there. Don’t believe me? Well let me explain. Was Ruby the only option when sneaking pass Central Command? No, because they had Weiss, Nora and Penny. Weiss could have done a freezer burn like in her fight with Marrow. Or Nora could have thrown her grenades and Penny just shoots them before the hit the ground or damage anything. Both causing a smoke screen, so no one sees them. Plus, they were already caught by using Pietro credentials. Did Nora need to get knocked out for the team to escape? No. If she had Jaune with her they could’ve one caused an EMP wave being Jaune has gravity and Nora has lightning. Or two, if Nora still went through with it, Jaune would have healed her immediately. Penny lifting and keeping the arena in place. If Jaune and Weiss were with her then once Amity was in position, Weiss with Jaune’s assistances can keep it place so Penny can come back inside and the whole video could be played. Also, Pietro would know what was going on with his daughter and can properly explain how to fix her. (Better than Jaune healing her.)

4. Nora’s whole character is knowing who she is without Ren right? Then why not just have her lead the evacuation once she’s done with Atlas? Why not have her and Yang work together along with the happy huntress to evacuate Mantle? Especially if their friends disappeared to save Oscar. (And before ya’ll tell me they can’t do it….. Yang, blocked a punch from a mech, held off a Manticore, and has a semblance that literally lets her take damage and dish it back five times harder. Nora who literally crushed Weiss and Yang in a food fight. Knocked a giant horse down on its knee. And knocked Hazel away.  Are you seriously saying these girls are not enough to take on a few little tigers? Come on!) If the whole point of Nora’s character development was finding out more about herself then let Nora try something without Ren. Let her call the shots. Let her take charge. Give her a character. (Hell don’t stop there. Have her interact with other characters. Like Jaune. Yang. Weiss. Or anyone other character than Ren. Let them tell her what they think about her. Let Nora be a solution to a character’s struggle. Ya’ll make it sound like Nora has no friends.)

5. All Yang needed was a break from Ruby and Blake. In all honesty Yang should have been the one to see the hounds face and kill it. Why? Well Ruby is Yang’s sister and only reminder of her nonblood related mother. And Blake is her girlfriend. And if we saw the hound’s face, we know it’s not just a silver eyed person. It’s also a faunus. This will give her a reason to protect both her loved ones because by seeing the hound she knows Salem intention with Ruby and want to keep her, and Blake from meeting the same fate of being turned into monsters. Yang should’ve been the 2nd to 4th member of team RWBY to fall. Why? One, a Yang vs Neo fight. Two, Cinder and Neo both wanted Ruby dead. So why not get rid of Ruby first? The fights would have been more thrilling and seeing the character, the show is named after, presumed to be dead would have added stakes and tension to the fight. (Also let me say this. Why is it, that the only great display of the maiden powers I’ve ever seen, was from Amber and not the maidens, as of now, Winter, Raven, and Cinder? The maiden powers are basically magic right? Why isn’t Cinder using any other element than fire?)

6. Weiss was completely useless. Look, as the saying goes, “You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family.” And when it came to Weiss and family, she has little to no clue of what it is nor deserves it. Weiss should have been more of an inspiration for Whitley to do right. How? By simply talking to him. What reason would she have other than Mantle? Simple, he’s her brother and she started off like him. Beacon, she was a brat. She was arrogant. And more importantly a jerk. Blake ran because of her racist attitude. Ruby literally had to impress her to prove she can be leader. Even though Weiss is not leadership martial herself.  Plus, hearing May and how she and her family never resolved their issues should inspire Weiss to not repeat that mistake. And guess what, her mom, Willow, the drinker of the family, wasn’t wrong. Both her and Winter left Whitley alone. Klein wasn’t there for him either. All Whitley had was his father. So Weiss, actually acting like his sister and trying to help him allows him to feel less alone. Instead Weiss was complete Jacque through out the entire volume.  

And that’s all.  Look I know I should have seen this coming but I had to say it.  Volume 8 could’ve been good. The problem was.

1.       Characters are not placed well within the story.

2.       We lost track of who said characters are.

3.       The ships are in the way.

4.       Being dumb for the plot. (Sometimes it’s necessary.)

[three-headed-monster]

Is it terrible that I just laughed seeing that both Canada and US failed to advance? This whole mens olympic hockey has been a disaster since the start. They waited to long to decide the NHL players weren’t going, which then screwed up the teams and the coaching staffs. They didn’t have enough time to prepare or learn their players. They made bad choices. Hope everyone is rightfully embarrassed that what would usually be 2 of the top teams, didn’t even make it to semis.

i took a day to just simmer on this ask anon, i hope that's okay. i just needed some time to collect my thoughts on this.

i have a few things to say about the way the team was put together and the coaching staff and all that.

1) the team makeup

honestly, i'm gonna throw shane doan a bone here and say the team was built...fine. obviously i would have liked it to be built maybe a little younger and a little bit faster, but in terms of what hockey canada has done in the past for world championships and wjc even, i thought it followed their m.o. now is their m.o. a little bit stupid? maybe so. but there's nothing that tells me he built an exceptionally "bad team" based on what hockey canada has done before.

and i think a lot how the team was built was actually the coaching. which people forget: the coaches have a say in who gets to be on the team. why else would they bring 6 former habs to an olympic tournament??? like...it's not like they fall off trees, you have to actively look to find them. i definitely think it's why they didn't go younger, because claude julien Hates Children. they had guhle on the long list but didn't take him because they wanted "vet dmen" on the team (minus power). kent johnson wasn't even supposed to be on the team initially because there were "concerns about his lanky figure". personally, to me, that sounds like a coach decision. remember, shane doan was the gm that put an unknown entity of a kid in owen power on the worlds team last year on a whim and shoved teeny tiny 5'10" cole perfetti on there too. i can't imagine those decisions about vet dmen and big guys came from doan himself.

that being said though, doan is the one who makes the final calls. and him being pushed around on those is...questionable.

2) preparation time

honestly, idk how much this played a part. like yes it was late, but they already had a long list of b players from the summer. new people were added and taken off, but from where i see it, they had it already set by the time wjc was cancelled. the lack of preparation time had little to do with it, and tbh, they could have pulled any coach from junior to do the olympics. it would have been fine.

3) the coaching itself

i personally believe, in my heart of hearts that the coaching is what sank this team.

the refusal to play devon levi, despite upper brass promising him two games to even get him to beijing. the unwillingness to change anything about the lines that clearly weren't working. benching kent johnson because he's a "defensive liability" when the game is 0-0.

i cannot believe i'm saying this but they looked WORLDS BETTER under colliton than they did under julien.

at the very least, colliton changed things when they weren't working, mixed up the lines and let more people get a shot. julien kept trying to shove a square peg in a round hole.

julien wasn't able to change his viewpoint on ANYTHING. when asked if devon levi was going to play, it's an "i don't know" when your starter just LOST you a pivotal game. him refusing to put eric staal down the lineup and just assuming it was ho-sang, when he was LITERALLY PRODUCING POINTS PRETTY MUCH EVERY GAME. it was the godawful powerplay who only got it done against CHINA because he refused to put an actual pp quarterback in owen power on the first unit, in favour of jordan fucking weal.

julien is honest to god an old fart and i could go on for days about how his coaching ruined this team. the fact of the matter is that i could have coached this team better.

at the very least, i would have put OWEN POWER ON PP1

really i think what this tourney boils down to for me is the coaching. it just wasn't good enough and certainly not fluid enough for a tournament like this. i'm sad for the boys, but more mad because this team had the talent to do it all. but they were screwed by bad goaltending and coaching and we'll never know if they had what it takes. and a lot of these guys, especially the young ones, will never be back here again. and it sucks that it ended for them because of one person who wasn't even on the team.

[quidfree]

prompt: tdbk in a post-apocalyptic setting (HEHEH)

self-servicing AND a helping hand to a friend in need, we love a good strat

this got incredibly out of hand but i hope you enjoy!!

--

it’s been two months and five days since he last saw someone that katsuki lays eyes on him. two months and five days, and yes, he is fucking keeping score, why wouldn’t he be?

two months and five days is long. two months and five days is long enough that he’s taken up the habit of muttering to himself to fill the air, because dead silence makes him paranoid, always expecting sudden interruption, and he chooses to ignore the fact that muttering to himself is a quirk he might have picked up elsewhere. jesus. if deku, scrawny and asthmatic and perennially, psychotically self-sacrificing, is somehow still alive, he thinks he might be glad to see him again, just out of sheer disbelief.

there’s other people he’d be glad to see. perfect timing, for the zombie apocalypse to erupt right when he’d been on a summer internship in tokyo. to think the old crone had been bitching about it before he’d left- don’t get mugged on the underground, all that shit. like he was some hare-brained tourist. like people didn’t expect him to mug them. whatever. he thinks his parents are safer, out in a smaller city, than anyone has been in tokyo, tells himself it’s not blind hope that makes him explain the radio silence away. it’s statistics, and the geography of the outbreak, and the memory of his mother beating a would-be pickpocket over the head with her shoe until he passed out.

six months ago he’d first walked into his cramped rental flat in tokyo, barely the space to unroll his mat. six days later the pandemic had begun. slowly, first, confusingly, two weeks of shadowing jeanist to court and back while the news got increasingly weirder, and then by the third things took a turn for the fucked, and his parents were calling frantically telling him to come home stat, but by then it was too late. tokyo’s the new york of japan- in sci-fi movies it’s always struck first. the city was on lockdown before he could so much as book a flight out.

that was five months ago. by four and a half his phone carrier service had gone dead.

he doesn’t like to linger on anything, but he especially doesn’t like to linger on what happened between the start and the middle of it, the slow descent from incomprehending disbelief into hell on earth. he doesn’t throw the term around- not one for flowery prose. for the first while there’d been something almost rewarding to it, the whole survival strategy, him and the interns and lawyers at jeanist’s office taking scope of their resources and planning their ways out. now it’s been two months and five days since he’s run into anyone alive, he fails to see the bright side.

the media called them the infected, or the walkers, or some other dumb shit, but everyone knows they’re zombies. it’s some kind of chemical weapon- americans, if you ask him- that’s mutated them, but they’re zombies by anyone’s definition. lumbering, decaying, dead, very keen on extending the invitation. the first time he’d seen one up close- whatever. he’d killed it. he’s killed so many by now he’s lost count, and that’s not an exaggeration. these days he’s not so big on those.

the office had been overrun, in the end. some of the other interns, panicking. bitten. dead. jeanist had held them off while katsuki dragged hysterical staffers out of the window, and the last he’s seen of the man he was catching his unflappable gaze as the doors burst open and jeanist slammed the window shut.

they’d scattered. maybe he would have stayed on, tried the group thing out of a sense of responsibility alone, but there were too many subgroups for him to rotate around. he’d split off, eventually, cut his losses. sometimes he catches someone he recognises walking the streets, wonders when and how and what. he’s still never seen jeanist. he thinks probably he offed himself.

if it ever comes to it that’s what he’s doing. he has a gun ready for it. one bullet. in the apartment he’d stayed in for a while, some forensic doctor’s place, he’d studied the angle that worked best. straight through the temples, angled down.

then there had been that thing with the league. he doesn’t want to think about that, but he does, constantly, because that’s how he knows. two months and five days. the last person he spoke to was that fucking girl.

like zombies weren’t enough- criminals who fancy themselves cultists roam the streets in packs. it’s like every shitty blockbuster movie he’s never bothered to see packed into one.

two months. five days. there’s no way of communicating with the outside world. after he’d shaken off the league he’d had jack shit on him- lost his bag in the initial fight, and his apartment was a lost cause. in the end he’d made his way back to the firm, but that had been a literal dead end too. he’d managed to retrieve, of all things, his phone, skirting the streets around the firm, probably dropped in their original escape. it’s functionally useless but he’s managed to charge it once or twice, stare at old photos and texts that fail to send. he has nothing else of his own except the clothes he’d worn that last day with jeanist.

he’s remade his belongings, obviously. he’s competent, as it turns out, in apocalypses. somehow it doesn’t surprise him. he works out a routine. when he’d first found a hole to burrow himself in post-league he’d spent days just picking up patterns- when, who, from where, how. once he was entirely sure he’d gotten it down to a science he’d risked it back out, mapping the area out incrementally, one rotation at a time. two months and five days in he has it down to an art instead.

he moved regularly for the first month post-league, avoiding anywhere that seemed inhabited by zombies and people alike. can’t trust anyone, and besides it’s way too much of a liability having other people around to get themselves bitten. he can look after himself, but he’s not signing up for charity work. by the second month he’d found his current address, the top floor of a mid-rise apartment complex in meguro city. apartment complexes are risky, but this one’s door locks are still functional, and once he’d cleared out the ground floor and made the rounds to check for stragglers he’d wagered it about as secure as it could get. the stairs are a bitch, but the zombies don’t like them either, preferring to straggle in lobbies, and for another thing the height is convenient. the roof’s close by for a way out, and it gives him a good view of the surroundings.

the apartment itself is nothing special. residential. he picked the cleanest one, which also meant the one half-moved out in a hurry. he pretends like he thinks the owners got out but he spotted a suitcase with their name abandoned in the elevator. the guy was a teacher at the university. the woman was in sales. it’s decent for a tokyo flat, two bedrooms, a bathroom, good kitchen, nice living area. the fridge had been full of expired goods, but the shelves had some cans in them- soup, rice, beans. pots and pans. he’s been working through the floors of the place one room at a time taking inventory, lugging the useful shit back up. nothing beyond the strictly practical- he takes food, medecine, clothes, someone’s watch once, binoculars. he’s not making a home for himself, just stocking up. he sleeps with his bag on his back, the essentials locked and loaded. the gun was an apartment find too.

his biggest problem is transport. he recognised this early on, because so could anyone with half a brain. tokyo’s teeming with public transports overrun by the undead, cars abandoned on the streets, but the actual streets are packed day in and day out. whatever movie said zombies hate the sun was full of shit, because as far as he can tell the only time they actually react to the weather is when it rains. all night and day they’re shuffling in tireless motions around the city, gaining numbers. there’s a rhythm to it, sure- they’re more sluggish at night- but it’s an incessant flow. he can’t drive a car, has found no convenient manual stored nearby, and google went and croaked on him when the electricity did, so there’s no way he can just take advantage of a lull and jump in. by the time he’s figured out how to get any given vehicle to start he’ll be surrounded. even if he could find a way in, there’s no way out- driving through streets packed with zombies is a doomed exercise, especially given that half of the cars in the city are busted or low on fuel.

his current plan involves boats. he’s not sure if zombies can swim yet, but they don’t like the rain so he’s betting no, and even if they do they’d fare no better than a human at climbing a boat from the waters below it. if he can make it to tokyo bay somehow- at least off the coast there’ll be room to manoeuvre. but he needs to figure out the basics of ship-operating first, and also to relocate his supplies nearer to the bay somehow. if he ends up on the open seas he’ll need the food to last him the journey.

so he’s been doing this. rounds, collecting shit. taking inventory. scoping the streets out. he spends the nights planning, the early mornings reading. there’s no power in the building. it’s freezing. six months since his internship, winter rolling in. if he gets to tokyo bay the waters will be frigid, but the sea doesn’t freeze over.

his biggest concern at the moment is hypothermia, if he’s being honest. he’s collected every fucking duvet in the building, it feels like, but there’s only so much he can bury himself under. he’d be warmer if he didn’t insist on bathing in melted snow, but he went so long without washing in autumn that he fucking refuses to waste the opportunity. he smells like some ridiculous apple berry blast bullshit because he’s cycling through shampoos, but sometimes he thinks he’s only sane when he’s brushing his teeth in the mornings so he’s not about to let up on the hygiene.

three and a half months ago he was meant to be back at school. he has no idea what’s happened to his classmates. most of them were home for the summer. he thinks yaoyorozu was abroad. lucky her. kirishima was the last he heard from, all suppressed terror, and even now it makes him feel sick to think about it, because he knows full well the asshole was scared for him. sometimes he thinks about what it would have been like facing this shit as a group, but he never dwells on it. he’s better off alone.

he’s cold. he’s tired. he needs to get to the nearest library, because no one in the building has shit about boats. he doesn’t want to leave the building yet, but he needs a book. can’t go into this shit blind, not without knowing what he’ll need once he gets there. and besides he needs to stay sharp on the streets- get back into the swing of it, literally. one month since he moved in and he’s barely seen a zombie in the rotting flesh. the doors have been holding up, and he’s far up enough that none of the regulars outside can smell him, decide to unionize and break the door down.

he’s had an assortment of weapons, since the start of this. most effective was the gun, also a heavy chair once. his trusty hockey stick had snapped on his way into the building, a month ago, leaving him to fend the last three tenants off with goldfish bowls and doors to the neck. he’s found a sturdy baseball bat since that he’s claimed as new weapon of choice, though never used. he takes this, when he goes. the bat, the backpack that never leaves his back, the longest coat he can find in his collection. not the heaviest, despite the biting cold, because that restrains movement, but the longest, to minimize contact. hat and gloves for the same reason. balaklava just for the cold.

the apartment is empty as he winds his way down, footsteps loud, and it’s dusk- just late enough that the zombies are slower, though not late enough that it really makes a difference. it’s be too dark if it were; he’s trying to save flashlights for real emergencies.

the setagaya library is the only actual library near him, as the maps inform him, but too far to risk. in the address book he finds a local bookshop three blocks away, and it’s there that he heads, already cold to the bone as he grits his teeth and locks the complex door assiduously behind him. there are zombies just across the street beginning to moan in his direction. he ignores them, breaking into a jog.

maybe because their blood doesn’t flow to their brains, maybe because their muscles are deteriorating: zombies aren’t incredibly fast or incredibly intelligent. what they are is resilient, and single-minded. but outrun them and outsmart them he can, and so he does- runs the paths he’s memorized, sticks to corners and shadows and scales ladders and crosses rooftops and just about manages to get to the street in question without even having to swing his bat.

once he gets there, though, he gets swinging. the bookshop is in an unfortunate position, and there’s an entire group parked in front of it. he lets them spot him first, so they break off in his direction, then climbs onto the overturned truck they’ve shifted to and springs back down into the doorframe of the bookshop, kicking the door in before they can register his itinerary. he slams it shut just before a greying hand scratches at it in outrage, heart pounding a steady tattoo, then glances around rapidly. no sign of life, but that means nothing.

there is, then, an unmistakable jingling sound from the very back corner of the room, behind rows and rows of antique-looking books. keys, or metal on metal. movement.

company, katsuki thinks, between anticipation and trepidation. his bat sits comfortably in his hands as he raises it.

jingling, closer, and he moves in on instinct, breathing feeling loud as he brushes past the anthropology section. he can just about see around the corner when a sudden sixth sense makes him whip around, bat swinging down heavily, and just in the nick of time- wood connects with metal, hard, knocking him back a pace as his teeth snap together from the impact, but he’s swinging again in self-defense just as there’s a sharp intake of breath and his brain catches up- red, white, painfully familiar. the bat makes an aborted spasm.

“bakugou,” shouto todoroki says, in disbelieving tones, crowbar lowered but not dropped. katsuki gapes.

“am i fucking hallucinating?”

the crowbar lowers further.

it is him, unmistakably. maybe with someone else he would have hesitated longer, but todoroki's hard not to single out. his red-white hair is tousled, long behind his ears like he's absently tucked it and forgotten about it, and he's grimy, smells sour and dusty, but it's him. katsuki's own hands stay gripped around the bat, their gazes playing some odd symmetrical game as they catalogue each other for the same exact thing- looking for bite-marks. todoroki's less covered than katsuki is, but there's blood on him, old, dried. too old for recent bites, anyways. inconclusive.

"what are you doing in-" todoroki starts, maybe having concluded that there's no way to assess his status with the layers he has on, but then his frown twists. "oh. your internship?"

which answers katsuki's own question, sort of, because now that he thinks of it enji was on that high-profile murder case in the high court. still- still, his brain is stuck on the incongruity of it, shouto todoroki in the apparently living flesh, and it's been two months and five days. he just keeps staring.

"i came for a book," is what leaves his lips, eventually, rough, and his voice sounds hoarse with disuse. it jars him into action, moving past todoroki on auto-pilot, because somehow he can't quite register his presence, doesn't know where to begin. he wasn't factoring this into his day.

it's dark inside, books hard to discern, so he gets his flashlight out, hits it against a shelf so it alights. there's a section on travel near the back. nautical travels of the eastern seas. useless. a map book of the japanese seas- maybe. he mechanically slides it into his bag. his fingers feel rigid. he's still cold. what the fuck is shouto todoroki doing holed up in a bookstore? where is his father? how long has he been here? what is he doing, alive, talking, walking, in the apocalypse, ambling into katsuki's routine with a crowbar in hand?

he can't see or hear him at all. now he's back here he can tell the ringing was rigged up- tiny trap-wires set around the store, what looks like fishing wire with bells attached. smart. of course it is. he's losing his mind. where has the bastard gone? is he even here? it's fucking freezing in the bookstore. where does he sleep? he hadn't looked starving. actually he hadn't looked anything- just blank as usual, barring the surprise. fuck! he's been staring at the same book for a good thirty seconds without registering the title.

beginner's guide to boating. miraculous. he nearly breaks todoroki's kneecaps when he sees his legs appear silently next to him.

"fuck! don't sneak up on me, you asshole!"

"boats," todoroki says. "that's your plan?"

it makes him flare hot with something like rage, because he doesn't fucking want input on it, doesn't want to be told odds, and it has him on his feet, slamming todoroki back into the opposite bookshelf within seconds.

"mind your own damn business!"

todoroki seems mildly startled at best, shifting a little so a book isn't digging into his neck, and for a moment katsuki is distracted by the scalding warmth of him under his arm. he doesn't know when he last came into contact with a living body. it's disorienting. he thinks probably it was the senior partner who fell down the stairs, minutes before the zombies swarmed the lobby, pulse skittering frantically with fear.

he drops todoroki, steps back. two months five days. maybe he's gone a little crazy.

whatever! whatever. he's fully functioning, he has his book, he's leaving. he's going to be off-schedule at this rate, times gone muddy with distraction. even without touching him he feels like there's residue warmth on his palm, making the rest of him shiver by contrast. if the zombies could have just gotten properly active in summer...

he's halfway to the door when he remembers- again- todoroki is actually there, watching him inscrutably from the bookshelf, swaying a little on his feet. despite himself he turns to stare back. he doesn't know what to- this wasn't in the plan, he doesn't know. he's going anyways.

it's because he's staring-cum-glaring at todoroki that he sees his eyes widen, and then he's leaping forwards on instinct as the window in the door shatters, decaying arm bursting through as loud moaning suddenly fills the dead silence.

"shit!"

"it's because there's two of us," todoroki reasons, in a tone like he's annoyed with himself for not realising this, which would make katsuki feel marginally better about his own stupid lack of thought if he wasn't so pissed. he'd counted on the zombies losing interest on his presence once he was out of sight, but the smell of two live humans in close proximity would obviously keep some of them near.

"is there another way out of this place?"

"back entrance, but it leads into a dead-end alley," todoroki retorts, suddenly functioning, eyeing the creaking door as thumping intensifies from the other side. "there's a way to scale onto the drain-pipe above but it wasn't made to take two people's weight."

"shit," katsuki curses, feelingly. "where's the drain-pipe lead?"

"roof. i don't know if either of us could scale it fast enough for the other to follow before they get there."

katsuki looks at him, crouched calmly stacking something or other into a loose duffel bag, rusty crowbar by his feet, then looks back to the groaning door. his gut tightens with a sort of pissed off fatalism.

"how long 'd it take you to get to the roof? five minutes?"

"i could do it in three, maybe less," todoroki estimates. "it's slower with the frost."

three minutes. katsuki hoists the bat higher, takes a step then two back from the door.

"fine. go. i'll follow."

"bakugou-"

"it's the most logical fucking plan of action," katsuki snaps, eyes still on the door, adrenaline spiking. "if you get up there before i get outside i can make it to the drainpipe before anyone nabs me. i can hold them off for three fucking minutes. and you're the one who knows the way up. you go."

"i know," todoroki says, which makes katsuki glance back at him, finds his face set with nothing but fixed determination. "i was going to say to give me your bag. it'll make it easier to climb."

there's something about this that makes katsuki's head briefly thud with something like a pounding headache, lungs gone tight, but he refocuses, blinks away the dizzy spell. the last fucking thing he wants is to give the bag away, but unless the plan goes as hoped he's dead anyways, so there's no point in arguing.

he shrugs his backpack off, slides the gun out, shoves it into his back pocket. todoroki fastens the straps around his shoulders without comment, then turns and runs, not wasting any time. it makes something in him-

the door breaks in.

there's five of them at least, the ones from before. the first one goes down with a direct hit to the head, skull caving in with a crunching sound, but he has to retreat immediately, make them spread out of their pack formation as he zig-zags back through the rows of books. they're slower than humans but not slow, breaking into a fast paced shuffle after him; he turns a sharp corner, doubles back as fast as he can to catch a second one from behind. crack, snap. the one in front lunges back before he can swing again, sending him running back; he jumps onto the seller's counter, dodging an arm, then brings the bat down full-force onto the zombie's neck. three. there's another one nearing the broken door, the other two circling back to the front at the commotion. he jumps over the counter, ducking under an arm, knocks into the nearest bookshelf with all of his weight, sending it sprawling towards the door, books flying and frame landing awkwardly across the doorframe. it doesn't block entry, but it befuddles the would-be incomers.

there's an arm grabbing his shoulder; he dodges a gaping mouth, bat spinning to hit at the rotting jaw, once, twice, bones splintering decisively on the second hit, but the last straggler is on him and the others are crawling in through the door. he runs, down to the back of the store, nearly trips over todoroki's traps himself as he goes, miraculously jumps clean of them as his pursuers stumble. it gives him the seconds to jump up to the back portion of the shop, grab a nearby chair and throw it at the advancing huddle, knocking them back a step, then turn sharply into a row, sprinting down to the back of the room where the emergency exit sign hangs half-broken. it's closed, likely behind todoroki, but he slams through it before any of the zombies near, staggers at the sharp gust of cold air that hits once he's out. the sun is nearly set, casting a red haze over the alley, and there's a pack of six zombies right beneath the glinting drainpipe, still trailing after todoroki's scent, moaning around the corner signalling backup. fuck.

there's a loud scraping from above, then todoroki's head appears over the edge of the roof, something grey and unwieldy in his hands; a satellite dish comes falling down, catching speed as it goes. it hits the pack dead-centre, crushing two of the zombies into pieces on impact, others reeling backwards in confusion, and he doesn't have the time to question his odds four-on-one. he runs in while they're still dazed, beats one into the wall, head splattering, turns and swings into the second as it zeroes in on him, head collapsing inward and drenching him in blood. the other two are too close to hit; he twists, jumps back, curses, eyes the alley entry where others have scented blood. fucking- no, two on one, god, he's not dying two on one, not after the bullshit he's been through. he kicks heavily into the one's chest, just missing the hand trying to nab his ankle, which sends it knocking into the other, and like that they're just aligned enough that he yells and slams the bat through the first one's head, in three rapid blows, hitting the one behind it on the third as bits of skull go flying. it's not enough to take it out; he hits again, manic, and it gets him on the second go. then he's scrambling to the drain pipe, mindful of the others closing in, shoves his bat down the back of his shirt and under his waistband before he throws himself at the drainpipe.

"brace against the wall," todoroki calls, almost in the moment he does so, hands slip-sliding on the damp pipe as his boots hit concrete; there are arms nearing, outstretched, but he bunches his stomach and drags himself up, feet first then arms, side of his arm scraping heavily against the wall as he moves almost horizontally upwards, fingers clenched around metal. the fucking gloves are no help; he pauses, braced and shaking with tension, to rip his gloves off with his teeth, one hand then the next, dropping to the floor below as his bare palms hit the freezing metal.

he's so cold it hurts, but he's halfway up the wall. methodically he moves. one foot. other foot. one hand. other hand. stomach muscles, straining, arms pulling. up a fraction. then another. then another.

"wait," todoroki says, closer than he feels, and he glances up for the first time, finds him an arm and a half's length away. "you'll slide at the top."

"then what the fuck do you suggest i do?" katsuki bites, half a yell, too strained to scream. todoroki leans, heavy, arms outstretched.

"do one more. then take my hand."

katsuki wishes he could spit on him. todoroki's expression has gone tight like he knows what he's thinking, like he's not sure katsuki won't let himself fall all the way down rather than put himself into the uncalloused hands of shouto todoroki.

the pipe creaks. katsuki moves up, ignores the way his blood boils, eyes the outstretched hands. he can hear todoroki breathing, hot against the cold air.

"drop me and i'll turn you."

he braces. one hand leaves the pipe, and for a godawful moment he's grasping at nothing. their hands connect, rearrange themselves; todoroki has a death-like grip on his wrist. his foot slides. the second hand is thrown rather than extended, and todoroki's eyes flash alarmingly as their fingers brush and miss, but he doesn't fall, hangs there by an arm for a heartbeat, jolt like he's dislocated his shoulder before his boot catches something and he shoves upwards, todoroki grabbing hold of his hand and yanking full-body at him.

katsuki falls over the top of the roof in disjointed movements, the both of them half-hitting each other as momentum carries them down, lands with an elbow in todoroki's stomach and a hit of tile to the jaw.

his head spins; he shoves up immediately, falls back down when his arms protest, adrenaline pounding hysterically. his limbs are shaking with belated exertion. todoroki is still holding his wrists, punishingly tight, his breaths heavy nearby. his body is still hot beneath him.

he scrabbles backwards, onto his knees, todoroki dropping his hands and dragging himself up to his elbows. for a moment they stare at each other, panting loudly.

he wants to yell at him but the words don't come. two months, five days. it's not even todoroki's fault, really. he was living there unperturbed. there's a flush of exertion over his cheeks now, and maybe he's just gone crazy what with the constant thinking about unbeating hearts but he feels a little obsessively interested in the visible flow of blood beneath his skin, wants him pink all over if that'll prove him living a minute longer.

he shakes himself, exhales in a burst.

"are you all right?" todoroki asks, and up close katsuki realises his voice is hoarser too. in the shop he'd been too dumbstruck to register it, but it's there beneath his normal cadence, a scratchy undertone. he hasn't spoken in a while either. something about it-

all right, he'd asked. unbitten, he means. katsuki shakes his head.

"we need to get going."

he hadn't meant the 'we', but he thinks at some point when todoroki's fingers dug into his arm hard enough to pierce flesh the message had gotten under his skin too. they're not fucking splitting up now. of course they're not. this isn't model un or a baseball match; it doesn't matter that the guy drives him insane. and this is todoroki, too- excruciatingly hyper-competent at every challenge life throws at him. if there's anyone less likely to rely on katsuki for the next however-long until one of them is forced to shoot the other, he hasn't met them.

"where?"

"my place. 's not far. how d'you get down from here?"

"the next building over has a fire-escape."

"fine. let's go then."

todoroki hands him back his backpack. he hits his bat against the wall to shake some bits of bone and flesh off, eyes unfocused on the task. he thinks desensitisation is the word. it's maybe the third or fourth time he's fought them off without registering anything about them once. usually he gets stuck on some detail or other, schoolgirl shirt or smile wrinkles. freckles. proof of life. there's that movie he watched once with kirishima and the rest of them, some kind of sci-fic thing, and at the end when the monsters come the dad shoots his whole family dead to spare them. turns out it's the military instead, come to rescue them. kirishima had cried.

questions pile up in his throat. he forces them down.

they jump from the rooftop to the next with relative ease, the gap narrow, his foot just catching on the edge before he rights himself. the fire escape is solid where the drain pipe wasn't. he wonders how in the fuck todoroki ended up here, in some old bookstore.

he's gotten good at scaling shit. he thinks in another life he'd have made a top-grade gymnast, or a superhero. when he'd broken out of the league's hold he'd made a spiderman worthy leap onto a clothes-line.

they make it back to the apartment as the sun vanishes, late, and because they're late his perfect scheduling is off, leaves them facing a pack of easily a dozen zombies swarming around the doors. there's another way in through the side, but it requires forcing a door open that he doesn't have keys for, and that means an entry-risk.

"i'll clear a way to the door," he says, hoisting his bat higher. "you keep them off my back."

todoroki follows his gaze, nods.

they advance in the dark, close together, and it's bizarre having someone breathing down his neck after so long, makes him on edge, expecting a bite that never comes. when the first zombie starts turning their way he breaks into a run, brings the bat down fast and heavy so it connects with a sick thud, flashlight clicking to life where he holds it between his teeth. it blinds one zombie long enough that he gets it too, and then it's chaos, flashlight swinging drunkenly as he batters this way and that, fighting off the clawing arms with irate kicks and loud swearing. if there's one thing he fucking loathes about the apocalypse it's how touchy-feely everyone is, all endlessly grasping hands and drooling maws straining for a piece of him. it makes his skin crawl, which makes him see red, which makes him go through fights like this, all furious movement, too keyed up to feel afraid. he never goes into a fight expecting to lose.

behind him, around him, wet crunching and moans track todoroki closing the pack; in off-beat synchronisation they move their way through the group, dropping bodies as they go. he's by the door before he knows it, light catching the heavy glass, switches the bat to one hand as he drags out the keys. the first time he'd gotten in the door had been open; his luckiest find since was the functioning key, sealing him out of harm's way. he's efficient with it, no fumbling, has it in and open in the time todoroki exhales sort of shortly as their backs connect. bakugou yanks the key out in the same movement he grabs blindly at todoroki's collar with his bat-holding hand, hooking a finger to swing him through the door and diving after him to slam the door shut on a wrist, bone snapping and the hand falling limply to the floor as they put their weight on the door for as long as it takes him to lock it again.

todoroki's crowbar is sopping red, guts in his hair; he casts a look around, doesn't even ask if katsuki thinks the door will hold, if katsuki has thought of their scent luring zombies in. most people would have.

he has, obviously. thought of it. that's why he lives on the top floor. the scent doesn't linger. doesn't matter if there's two of them up there. the door holds for as long as the stragglers press up against it, but as soon as they're out of sight the zombies will drift again.

they make their way up the stairs. he's warmer now, purely from the exercise. heat rises. another reason he lives at the top. doesn't feel like it when he's freezing his ass off at night, but he knows his science.

they make it to the top floor in silence, and he pushes his door open (unlocked, this one, because by the point anyone reaches him up here he'll be long gone), goes for the camping lamp on the floor, trudges along with it in hand. remembers his houseguest.

"kitchen's there. there's a bathroom. two rooms. living room. no power or running water but i have some water in the bathtub if you want to wash."

"it's nice," todoroki says, and the worst thing is he sounds like he means it, almost politely. it makes katsuki stop dead to look at him, struck again by how unreal it all feels, but it almost feels reassuringly normal, staring at todoroki in disbelief. in the bad lighting he looks otherworldly, even despite the filth and zombie gunk he's covered in, all half-lit and angelic like something out of a hazy dream.

"i can't fucking believe it's actually you, half 'n half."

it escapes him unthinkingly, but it's true, and besides that it has the unforeseen consequence of making todoroki's composure fracture, shoulders rising and falling on a mute laugh, exhausted wryness in the tilt of his head. for a split second his gaze is dizzyingly and uncharacteristically frank, almost intimate.

"the feeling is mutual."

if the moment stretches he might do something wholly deranged; he rolls his aching shoulder, gestures to the bathroom.

"you go first. you reek."

todoroki says his thanks to his back as he retreats.

he returns to routine. strips, despite how fucking cold he is, wraps his shoulder tight enough that it hurts, rubs alcohol onto the more worrying cuts and scrapes. drags some bedding to the second room, then drags himself to the kitchen, shivering, mentally redoing his maths, then pulling out his notebook to jot down the edited stock. pauses, hesitates. in the margin under the date he writes: found half 'n half. it's not a diary, but he feels like he should make note.

todoroki appears silently in the doorframe, wrapped in a towel and scrubbed red, and there's something reassuring about how clean he looks, balanced out by how disturbing it is to see him so casually bare. he's barely glanced up at him that he drops the towel.

"the fuck-"

todoroki just turns in a neat 360, then wraps himself back up. katsuki snaps his jaw shut, ears burning but head clear. no bites. right. the previous times- whatever. reluctantly he stands and turns. when todoroki eyes his boxers he glares.

"you don't think you would have noticed if i got bitten on the dick today?"

he's not entirely sure todoroki won't fight him on it, but he concedes after a moment's assessing stare, shifts from foot to foot.

"you can have some of my shit to wear," katsuki says, pointing to the wardrobe he's requisitioned. "some of it's too big. should fit."

todoroki just nods, follows suit.

he wonders, as he scrubs himself down with a bucketful of water, teeth chattering and bath-tub still half full, if todoroki was always so goddamn quiet or if he's traumatised or some shit. the guy was always the annoying silent type, but he doesn't remember him this monosyllabic. habit, probably. what does he know.

he dresses, layers up, shoves his dirty clothes with todoroki's in the basket. when it fills he'll dunk the whole lot into a tub of his used water, but until there's that many dirty clothes he leaves them out.

todoroki is sat on the couch wrapped in blankets and wearing someone's dad's heavy knitwear, illuminated by (of all things) a gas lamp that katsuki had found but never managed to light. so the asshole has matches.

"you hungry?" katsuki asks, really only to make him speak. todoroki nods, counter-productively, but he's talking next.

"don't waste your food on me."

"shut up, asshole," katsuki mutters, on instinct, fatigue setting into him. jesus. the martyrs he's surrounded with. "you can make the next grocery run."

todoroki only looks at him longly, but he follows him into the kitchen, eats the cold soup without complaint. he likes cold food, katsuki thinks, then stops at the thought. he has no idea how he knows it. it feels like a memory from a different life. he likes cold food. like that matters.

it's not very late, though it's pitch black out. he goes to bed early these days to make the most of the sunlight. he's not sure what to do with todoroki, though rationally that's not his concern.

he can't find it in himself to ask the obvious questions. it's partly because he doesn't want to hear the answers and partly because he doesn't want to have to give his own. it's not like they were fucking bosom buddies before this all went down- he's past hating the guy, despite how unbearable he finds him, would call them something adjacent to friends under duress, but it's not like they make a point of hanging out outside of class. and todoroki's a terrible conversationalist, always.

even so. two months, five days. he wants to talk, if only for the pleasure of getting to call him a superior bastard, if only to know that he's still the same confounding weirdo whose face he wears. it's not even the words, really- he wants to hear a pulse beat near him, to catch alert eyes on his, to watch his chest rise and fall. alive.

he can't believe the asshole stripped naked like that. pale flesh all over, but not that diseased grey tint, just regular winter cold, like the inside of a peach. bruises and scratches littering his limbs. nasty half-healed scar like someone had tried to gut him with a knife.

his lips are peeling when he licks them. he found vaseline in someone's drawer but he uses it sparingly. whenever he goes outside his lips crack to the point of blood. against the glow of the stove he can see only half of his new flatmate where he sits surveying his newly clean crowbar.

"what's in the duffel?"

he'd have bristled more at the invasion, pragmatic though it is, but todoroki only shifts obligingly to raise it to his lap.

"medical kit- bandages, aspirin, tweezers, needle and thread. three water bottles. instant noodles. biscuits. matchbox. a city map. a change of shoes. a space blanket. my wallet. wire. rope. an alarm clock. a mechanic's manual." he pauses, feels around, drags out a glass bottle. "this."

it's vodka, of all the things. katsuki half wants to laugh.

"you drink now?"

"kept me warm," todoroki shrugs. which is, maybe, all there is to it. maybe not.

"i'll run you through inventory in the morning," katsuki says, if reluctantly. best todoroki knows what they have on hand, despite how little he feels like letting him into his notebook. it's not like he's deku, writing down his little feelings all over it, but it feels revealing anyways, for todoroki to know what he's been tracking.

there's nothing else for them to talk about without heading into dangerous territory. todoroki packs his things back into the bag, careful, and katsuki is sick of his own weird emotional breakdown, doesn't know where this sudden needy cloying bullshit is even coming from.

two months five days, his brain says, chipper, and then offers to rewind the days preceding that. he hisses through his teeth before he remembers he has company.

"i'm going to bed. 's fuck all to do without wasting light. stay high up if you want to go exploring."

todoroki has gone back to muteness, because he only nods as katsuki glowers at nothing in particular and makes his way back to his room, unhappy at the sight of his diminished bedding. it's not like he's actually able to use the whole apartment's bedding anyways- too unwieldy, too heavy, whatever- but the three duvets and two quilts had been working well enough to insulate him against the chill, and with two sacrificed he's resigned to a night of tossing and turning.

fuck his life. he thinks maybe the reason he's been having these fits of weirdness across the days is just fatigue. between the nightmares and the cold and the actual zombie break-ins over the past six months he doesn't think he's managed a single night's good sleep beyond the times he's blacked out. he feels untethered, at times both more and less emotional than he's used to being.

no surprise that having a real life human being around- and one that he knows at that- is making him almost ill with conflicting urges. part of him wants to lock todoroki out in a cold sweat and never lay eyes on him again. part of him wants to cut him open and grab at his beating heart just to confirm he's not alone. the rest of him lies there wondering what the fuck is wrong with his brain.

he lies there for maybe an hour trying to get to sleep, but his mind has kicked into overdrive in the way that it does every goddamn night nowadays, replaying scenes he didn't even notice in the moment. one of the zombies by the bookstore had barely reached his shoulder. when he'd washed his bat there had been bits of an eye clinging to the base.

he's too busy being cold and annoyed and possibly hysterical to notice the soft footfall until it's close, jerking up on instinct to brandish his bat, but he can tell by the moonlight filtering in slivers through his blinds that it's todoroki, if the lack of shuffling hadn't given it away.

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

"i didn't mean to startle you," todoroki says. monotone, but in an off way, almost dreamy, like he's asleep. it makes katsuki's skin prickle with foreboding; he stares at the little he can see of his face, alert now.

"then what do you want?"

"you sound cold," todoroki says. still in the doorframe, unmoving. he wishes there was more light.

"it's the middle of winter, jackass, of course i'm cold. can you fuck off?"

"my father is dead," todoroki says, completely unprompted, voice not changing in timbre in the slightest, and it makes katsuki's heart jump before he sits fully upright, trying harder to make his face out.

enji todoroki, gone. he guesses he'd known that on some level, for todoroki to be roaming around like a ghost, but it doesn't compute. jesus. maybe todoroki's actually fucking lost it since. he imagines two months and five days tracking back to losing his father, feels that gut-punch of paralysis in his stomach.

he's so caught on processing it that he doesn't even register todoroki is climbing into the bed before he's halfway under the sheets.

"what the fuck are you doing?" his voice half-breaks on it, rising in sheer disbelief as he jerks violently back, because seriously- there's insane and there's insane, and he's starting to suspect todoroki is so out of it he'd snap his neck in his sleep.

todoroki has the audacity to shush him, distracted, and it takes katsuki actually grabbing him hard by the shoulder, braced to hit at the slightest flicker of intent, to stop him in his tracks.

"hey, asshole, i'm talking to you! are you out of your goddamn mind?"

where he's stopped now todoroki's one eye catches the moonlight, big and dark and eerie. he blinks slowly like he's coming out of a trance.

"oh, i-" he pauses. his pulse is sluggish under katsuki's hands, skin fire-hot. feverish, maybe. shit. feverish, very possibly. he'd had no layers in that shitty bookshop. "sorry."

he says it like he's not sure he means it. katsuki doesn't let up with his grip.

"how long you been sick, icyhot?"

"sick," todoroki repeats, processing it. his gaze sharpens. "days. i think maybe- what day is it?"

"wednesday. thirteenth."

"six days, then," todoroki says, quiet. their gazes catch, more consciously now. "i'm fine. the adrenaline helped."

"sit still," katsuki warns, and then pulls up quickly, shrugs his backpack off, digs out the medical kit. he has a decent stock of medicine in the apartment, enough that he only hesitates a beat before pulling out the advil bottle, unscrewing the cap to fill it. he knows the dosage by heart. "drink."

he nearly drops the whole bottle when todoroki just obediently sticks his mouth to the rim of the cap instead of taking it himself, hot breath fanning over his fingers as he drinks. it makes his own pulse go skittering with discomfort when he fills it a second time, brandishes it back. the cap is sticky and wet when he screws it back on; todoroki is still half-sitting where he told him to when he's done his bag up and slid it back onto his back.

"why'd you tell me about your dad just then?" katsuki asks, despite himself, if only to fill the silence.

"did i?" todoroki asks, on an exhale, visible eye swivelling to him. "i don't know. i was thinking about the cold, i think. he wasn't cold in the end."

he resists the urge to check his temperature. probably it got worse once he tried to go to sleep, all the residue adrenaline gone. it can't have been peaking all day, or they'd have never made it out in the first place. and it's not from a bite. just a fever. he's medicated. he'll sleep it off.

"i'm not crazy," todoroki informs him, suddenly cool, not so hazy. "just sick. i could hear you tossing and turning. that's why i came."

"why're you in my bed?" katsuki shoots back, on the edge of combative, not really. maybe he's a little relieved. he's a lot pissed off, even though he knows todoroki probably genuinely didn't realise what a state he was in the last week, might have actually been trying to make sense of his fluctuating mood himself. no shit he'd been so weird when they first ran into each other.

"i'm not sure," todoroki admits. "it seemed important at the time."

this makes him want to laugh, though he doesn't. the cracked-open raw part of him that still smarts loudly whenever he thinks of jeanist thinks he missed him somehow.

"glad we solved that mystery. get out now."

todoroki makes to move, stops when they're facing each other, blue eye white-pale on his. "actually i remember now, i think."

"i swear to god, half 'n half..."

"you're cold," todoroki repeats, factual, then back to floaty. "and i couldn't hear..."

he doesn't expect him to do what he does, which is why he doesn't stop him when he puts a too-hot palm directly over his heart, doesn't even pull back when he pushes, knocking him onto the bed.

"todoroki-"

"it's fine," todoroki says, scratchy, sweat-warm. he slides onto his own side in a heavy, graceless motion. face to face, half an arm between them, palm stuck to his chest. "it's fine."

it's the scratchiness that wins him over, or maybe the fever flush of him. todoroki may be fucked in the head but he's not, which is why he knows full well he's being insane by not shoving him out. it's just that on some extremely uncomfortable and deranged level he gets it, because he's been tracking his pulse like a shark since they first ran into each other. there's something less insane beneath it too, pragmatic acknowledgment that it is actually a great deal warmer when there's body heat to share, but he knows full well he'd have toughed it out, six months ago, sent him back to bed and spent the night half-awake in spiteful resignation.

it's six months later, though, and somewhere along the line he's been rewired wrong. he thinks it's not unlikely that he's just this desperate for a full night's sleep.

it doesn't really matter why, though. he lets him stay. in the morning if todoroki is back to himself he'll see right through whatever he says, and on balance he doesn't fucking care.

he's so fucking tired. two months and five days, six months and three. the last time someone touched him for more than a second without trying to kill him it was a crying intern, this bespectacled guy whose name he'd never bothered to learn choking on his own blood as he clutched katsuki's wrist for comfort. before that he thinks it was his mother, exchanging their usual routine of brusque ruffling before he got on the train. he hasn't cried since the start of this, but he feels like crying now, hot throbbing behind his eyes. he sucks in a breath, forces it down. time and place. he's said it like a mantra since the start, like there's ever going to be one.

todoroki is fast asleep, but his hand's still there. his fingers have curled into the wool.

two months and five days, he thinks again, remembering other hands, clutching his face, pinning his arms. that's changed now, he realises. still marks the date, but not the last time he's spoken to someone.

ten minutes, thirty seconds. he reaches to pull the covers higher over todoroki's shoulders, feels his stomach constrict when his hand brushes medicine-sticky lips in passing.

maybe todoroki can sail. that's a rich kid thing to do. he'll have to ask in the morning.

he falls asleep within fifteen minutes, forty seconds of todoroki, and doesn't wake until the sun rises.

[windsource]

suptober20 day 21 prompt: fear (ficlet) | destiel au | ~1k words

read on ao3 | read all past suptober prompts

Dean had only ever used his wings once in his life.

He had been young, about the age when most angels started flying. His mother was there, guiding him—or, trying to—with her beautiful big white wings spread to show him how she did it. The mechanics of it all, that was something Dean could understand. It was getting up in the air that was the hard part.

Why?

Because Dean was afraid of falling.

It was the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever heard of. They lived in heaven, for the love of God (literally), and flying was just part of the deal. Flying got you into every occupation, every field, and to anywhere in the world.

But Dean just…couldn’t. Couldn’t get over his fear, couldn’t get over even the shortest ambrosia tree. He was useless.

Dean regained this memory the first time he heard their voices.

Initially it had been like an itch Dean couldn’t scratch. And boy, was that annoying as all hell.

The voices were faint, but they were there, and Dean understood every word even though it definitely wasn’t english, and they didn’t sound like normal voices. More like…sounds. Rhythms.  

This didn’t happen all the time. It started off being every once in a while, and it was inconvenient, sure, but manageable. But then it had gotten worse.

Considerably worse.

Dean shifted in his seat. He could hear them now, chattering away about something or the other. He could pick out a few words, like “fallen” and “save” and—

He shot up out of his chair, surprising the doctor so much that she jerked her coffee cup, brown liquid steaming over her hand and desk.

“Sorry!” He mumbled, escaping out of the room, “Important!”

“Dean, we have to talk about this!” she called after him, but he was already down the hall, sliding to a halt when he came upon his room.

Dean stepped inside and shut the door. He leaned his back against it for a moment and closed his eyes, heart hammering.

The voice that he’d heard. It’d said—

“Dean Winchester.”

Dean flinched, more forcefully than the Doctor had just a minute ago, and had a fleeting thought that if there was coffee in his hands in that moment, it would now be spilled everywhere.

He was staring at the man in his room, whose eyes were pinned to Dean like a target. If he had the space to, Dean would have taken a step back.

“That’s me,” he said instead.

The guy walked towards him until there was little space between them.

“Uh….who are you?”

Blue eyes, Dean noted. They were kind of all he could stare at.

“Castiel.”

Blunt, for one. Dean let out a breath.

“Okay, what are you, then?”

He was pretty sure he knew the answer to that.

Castiel tilted his head, “I am an angel of the Lord… So are you.”

Dean gathered up his nerve to push past Castiel and further into the room, turning to face him again. Dean’s stare was icy.

“Maybe I was. Not anymore.”

Castiel stepped forward. “Dean, Heaven is…” he looked away, gathering his thoughts.

“Heaven needs you to come home.”

Dean coughed out a laugh.

“Oh, do they? So, what? So that I can stand around all day, watching everyone else fight and protect? No, I–I’m good here. I have a life here. I—”

He rubbed a hand over his face. He had a life here. Up until a year ago, when he was thrown into this dump for being a “liability” at his job. Dean knew it wasn’t the same, knew Castiel knew it too.

He let his hand fall.

“I can’t even fly.” Was all he managed.

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was firm. “That has never stopped you before. What happened to you? You once commanded armies, you were Michael’s right hand. I heard stories of you. And then—”

Dean frowned. The angel seemed frustrated. Angry, almost. Dean was sure they’d never met before.

“And then you fell. You fell, and we became…ruined. When I say that we need you, I don’t mean to flatter you. I’m merely stating a fact. We need you to come back. The war hasn’t ended just because of what happened to you.”

Dean curled his hand into a fist.

“What happened to me was I couldn’t protect the ones I love most. I couldn’t even get to Sam, because why? Because I was scared. I was a coward. And sure, he survived, but me staying there was just another burden. For everyone.”

He’d remembered it a few months ago—the demons, the knights of hell attacking his brother somewhere Dean just couldn’t reach. The fear that had pulsed through him with every heartbeat.

Castiel was shaking his head.

“They are under the impression that you abandoned us, Dean. I’ve…I’ve gone against my orders to get you back.”

Against orders? Dean reevaluated him. Castiel was wearing a suit and coat, but he obviously had the air of a soldier about him. He wasn’t just any angel, if he was risking everything to be here.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“Because I….sympathize with you.”

“You sympathize.” Dean raised an eyebrow. Castiel had never met him before now. How in the world could he “sympathize?” Angels…angels didn’t sympathize. They followed orders and gave commands. There wasn’t time for sympathy or understanding. Not in Heaven.

Castiel sighed, and spoke softly. “I can understand the appeal of…dissenting. Of coming to earth. Sometimes…sometimes staying is more difficult than leaving. Angels like you, Dean—Angels that push past fear and setbacks and keep soldiering on, they are the reason I stay. So you must come back. If not for them, then for me.”

Dean stared again. Not at the vessel, but at the angel within it. An angel going against orders, going against what he believed in, for him. For Dean. For a reason to stay in a place where staying was the hardest thing you could do.

“I don’t have my grace anymore,” Dean said.

“Your grace can be restored.”

“I can’t fly,” he said again. A feeble attempt, but an attempt nonetheless. Dean’s last chance to stay here, even if his life here meant nothing anymore.

Castiel straightened more, if that was even possible, and leveled Dean with a resolute gaze.

“Then I will teach you,” Castiel said, “If you just give this one last chance.”

Dean swallowed hard. He could do that. For Sam, for himself...for the angel standing in front of him.

“Okay,” his voice wavered. “I will learn to fly.”

-

tag list (ask to be added/removed):

@castiels-a-winchester @jellydeans @writtenmemxries @cestladean

[oficytheft]

Mobile Verses Post

Main Pre-Oculus Verse:

Leonard Snart is a World Class Criminal, and takes very much pride in his skill and ability in his profession-despite the opinion that some might have of it. He started off working jobs with his Dad as a kid, and soon enough it became his primary way of gaining money. With the abuse his Father tended to deal out his main Goal as a kid was to make the money to pull his little sister Lisa out of that home, and he was finally able to do as much when she was 13 and Leonard was 25.

Main Post-Oculus Verse:

Leonard didn't die in the explosion in the Oculus, instead him being in physical contact with the machine threw him into the timeline and caused a meta gene to activate in him and morph into something it wouldn't have been if activated by a particle accelerator. This meta gene cause him the have power's similar to cisco's, however instead of being able to jump through space to other world or universe? He is able to jump through time. It's possible that the original meta powers he would have gotten will surface at some point in the future and he will have Cryokinesis, but for now his only power is jumping through time and occasionally being able to see through it when time and his memories have been changed.

For awhile he was trapped in a sort of time limbo, stuck in the temporal zone and the time stream watching his own life and the lives of people he loved playing out-until he was able to latch on to something thing to be able to pull himself out. That thing was his partner Mick Rory. He ends up back on the ship, meeting the current team and staying aboard. He only remembers snipets of things he saw in the time stream that weren't things he'd lived through himself, but his uncanny ability to count time in his head is better than ever.

Leona Snart:

Leona Snart is the Elder daughter of Lewis Snart, and the protective elder sister of Lisa Snart. She practically raised her sister and would do anything to protect her and keep her safe, and couldn't stand the idea of either Lisa or her partner in crime Mick Rory permanently not being in her life any more.

Icy Mother:

Leona Snart never really planned for Motherhood, but then one day she found out she was pregnant with her Partner Mick Rory's child. She never got a chance to tell him; she decided to 'one more heist and then I will' and then Mick was caught up in the fire and she couldn't get him to leave. She left and she stayed away, after what had happened she tried to keep her distance from him-admittedly not for the first time in their long and complicated partnership. It wasn't until she went to find him again and give him the Heat Gun and ask for help with The Flash that she told him, bringing him to meet their daughter who Lisa was watching.

Earth Three Verse:

Leonard Snart is the elder brother of Central City’s mayor Lisa Snart, the two were raised by their Grandfather when their Father’s custody was revoked when his abuse came to light. When their Grandfather died when Len was 25 and Lisa was 13 him and his partner Mick Rory took her in, Leonard currently holds a minor engineering position at Star Lab’s and spends his night’s fighting crime as his alter ego Citizen Cold–though usually he goes simply by Cold. He is a meta human with the ability of cryokinesis, which he think’s is due to the dry ice he was transporting when the Particle Accelerator went off.

Criminal Husbands:

Leonard Snart and Mick Rory have been married for about 5 years and had an on again off again thing going on for a little over 25 years now. When Lisa was taken away from their Father by Leonard? Mick played a big part in the girl's younger life, being her primary guardian along side Leonard from her 13th year on.

Criminally Domestic: with @unpaidpiper

Leonard Snart couldn’t say he was entirely shocked at the uselessness of the Central City Police when he heard rumors that a kid had been seen in less than savory parts of town sleeping on the streets and dumpster diving for food, but when he went to look into it himself and would a kid that couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5 years old? He was entirely disgusted by their utter ineptitude. With the offer of a meal and a bed he was able to convince the kid to come with him, learning that his name was Nathaniel on the way back to the Rouge House. When he got back he got him some food and told him to stay in the kitchen well he went to go talk to Lisa and Mick.

He told them the rumors he’d heard and that when he’d gone looking he’d found Nathaniel, after he was done explaining he shoved a wad of cash at Lisa from one of his stashes and told her to go get some cloths and whatever else she thought they might need. He made the kid go clean up after that, giving him an old T-Shirt and telling him to call for help if he needed it and waited outside the bathroom for him to be done. By the time Lisa came back with a literal truck load of stuff half way through the night Nathaniel was asleep in Leonard’s bed and he resigned himself to the fact that he would just have to endure sleeping with a literal space heater for the night.

Though not exactly official because doing so would be near impossible with their records, from then on him and Mick have been his adoptive parents, and they don't take to kindly if anyone make's negative comments on them being parents. When Rip comes they initially refuse him, eventually agreeing to it when he say’s that he would allow to bring their kid who at this point had gained the nickname Nettie with them as well.

Missing Piece:

Everything has turned out the same, save for the fact that Leonard didn't get his hand back because the technology doesn't exist on the Waverider. He is dealing with the loss of his hand much worse than he let's on to people, not wanting to let Mick know how much it affect's him well also thinking of it as a punishment for what he caused Mick to go through. He had relied on his hand so much throughout his life for thieving and handling his weapon though that there are times when he's alone that he'll get angry and throw something that isn't quite working with his left hand.

He did ask Ray to modify his gun and holster however, making it able to shoot from his left hand easier as well as easier to get in and out of the holster that is now kept on his left leg. He is practicing his use of it with his less dominant hand, but it's going at a much more frustratingly slow pace than he'd prefer. He refuses to be a liability to anyone though, and so he refuses when the offer to go back to 2016 is give and continues training himself to get by with only his left hand.

Fire & Ice:

Inspired by robininthelabyrinth’s AUs

Len's the muscle and Mick is the brain's, throw in Len having Ice Meta Power's and a temper problem; especially when it comes to people insulting his partner? There's sure to be at least a bit of fun.

No Place Like Home

Inspired by robininthelabyrinth’s AU

Leonard is Jax's cousin, removed a couple of times but still has grown up around the family since his Mother and Grandma Louise are two of the only ones who didn't abandon them when their Mother refused to leave Lewis and then later died. They took care of Lisa well he was in juvie, even sending her away to skating camp for the summer well he was in Juvie despite not really having the extra money because they knew what home life was like even with Len there with her.

[ohthethingswedoforlove]

Yandere!GLaDOS and Yandere!Wheatley headcanons

Author’s note: Recently, I’ve been watching a let’s play of this game and not only was I flooded with memories of these two bastard robots but also with ideas of how to turn them yandere. Let’s see how that goes!

Warnings: yandere characters; violence; mentions of death; verbal abuse; major spoilers for the game;

GLaDOS

With GLaDOS it's... Well, a bit hard to understand if she even gives a shit about you in any way, or if the reason why she hasn't killed you yet is simply because she would much rather have a human test subject instead of some glorified pieces of metal with legs and a barely functioning brain.

She certainly seems to want to make her dislike towards you very clear, that's for sure.

She's quite verbal about it.

But, for someone who supposedly despises you, she sure doesn't want to let you out of her sight.

It's her job, that's what she'll tell you.

She wouldn't even bother to watch such a excuse of a creature otherwise. Even for a human, you're quite pathetic.

Testing should not stop even when everything you love outside this facility is long dead and gone, she not so gently reminds you.

Though operational once again... She may have underestimated how much her personality cores seemed to be keeping her together.

She has become rather strange since the... Incident. Or perhaps that's just what being dead for quite a while does to someone, she guesses.

Oh, she hates you, don't get me wrong.

But there's something keeping her from killing you. Which is hilarious, considering the fact that her morality has been quite literally burnt to a crisp, if her memory serves her correctly.

But she humors the idea that perhaps it would be more satisfying to watch you slowly die and decay with the passage of years. She has an eternity of time to kill, after all. There's nothing more to it.

So why is that when you get separated from her with the aid of that moron, the only thing she can think about is finding you and getting you back?

She shouldn't care. It's not like he could get you far in this facility. If you don't end up accidently dying due to endless hazards of this place, she should be able to find you both and finally get rid of the walking nuisance that you are.

But... She doesn't.

Uncharacteristically to her, she tries to promise you better treatment if you come back to the test chambers and even suggests alternative escape routes (which she just plans to use as traps to catch you), saying the you really shouldn't trust that tiny spherical retard that you are calling "friend".

But you don't trust her. Of course you don't. You know better than to trust her. Besides, no matter how much she tries to sound a bit gentle, her cynicism and hostility seem to always break through anyway.

She thought she would hate you even more after you managed to get the idiot to the Central AI Chamber, trusting him completely and letting the core transfer happen.

You had just let the biggest and most unstable moron that ever lived be in charge of the whole facility. Now she was stuck inside of a potato battery, lost in the long abandoned parts of the Enrichment Center, miles and miles underground.

With you.

But, surprisingly, if the little underground journey you two had been forced to go through taught her anything, is that she may not hate you as much as she likes to let both herself and you believe.

No longer being attached to the Central AI Chamber, alongside with the slow recollection of memories of Caroline and helping you achieve your conjoined goal of reaching Weathley and dethroning him, gave her... A new view on you. And on her relationship with you.

You aren't her enemy! You're her friend! She doesn't hate you, she... Doesn't hate you.

She isn't sure if she's capable of even "feeling" love, but... She can guess that this is the closest that she had ever gotten and ever will to "loving" someone.

Unfortunately, that didn't last long.

When you two finally managed to defeat Wheatley and put her back on the mainframe... It felt like resetting all of that progress.

Something about the mainframe corrupts whatever's attached to it. She figures that was exactly what had happened to the moron.

She deleted Caroline from her brain. She didn't need her, she thought. It was nothing but a inconvenience, something too human that stops her from completing her tasks efficiently.

But even then, she just couldn't get rid of you.

She didn't even need to kill you. Just... Let you go. Let you have that freedom you crave so much. You're just going to cause more trouble if you stay, anyway.

But she can't seem to let you go.

Against her better judgment and your pleading, she throws you right back into the test chambers.

At this point, she doesn't even care if you decide to complete the tests or not.

She had created two backups for a reason, before all of this happended.

She'll monitor the testing of the two robots instead, doing as she had always done with you beforehand.

From time to time, in between tests, she checks up on you. She makes sure to know where you are at all times, being careful to not let you get far in case you do move through the tests. She has learnt a lot about how you function by this point.

Sometimes you wonder is she's still here. She barely even talks to you anymore, preferring to simply watch you with a strange and supposedly impossible feeling of melancholy clinging to her.

When she does talk, it's usually just to calmly detail to you how you won't be able to leave, no matter how hard you try.

Wouldn't it be better if you just give up?

The outside world isn't the paradise you're expecting, anyway. You'll die a horrible, painful death out there.

At least you're still alive. With her.

Wheatley 

When it comes to Wheatley you have to understand that he's... Well, stupid. There's no way around that one, really.

Though, while he was still in his spherical core body, he wasn't much of a problem.

A moron, yes, but a rather lovable and somewhat helpful moron.

He only wanted to help out, given that you would help him as well. You two had a common goal in mind, after all. To get out of this place, preferably alive.

He has to admit, the moments when two had worked together were rather nice.

He wasn't really expecting much from a human, especially one that had been in suspension for such a long time. He's not even sure how your brain still functions, to be perfectly honest.

But maybe it was the thrill of escape, coupled with finally being able to make his own decisions and having someone who wasn't treating him like a living liability at every minute, that made him... A bit attached to you.

At first he figured that it was simply out of convenience and mutual helpfulness that he wanted to stay near you.

But when he finally came to after being nearly crushed to bits by GLaDOS herself when you two accidently activated her, his first thought was about how his friend was in danger and he had to get them back. He needed to. Not just for the sake of the plan, but also for your sake. Mostly for your sake.

His attachment only grew as you two later reunited and continued on a new escape plan, reaching a way to confront GLaDOS. Properly this time.

It was when you both decided to initiate the core transfer and let him take her place that things started to go downhill fast.

The mainframe quickly corrupted him.

But maybe it wasn't just the mainframe.

Maybe it was that alongside with the sudden realization that now he is in control of everything. The whole facility!

Tiny little Wheatley, who during his entire pathetic existence had been told that he was nothing but a useless moron, is suddenly in control of everything.

He's the boss now.

And you also quickly found out that, for a robot, Wheatley is... Surprisingly emotional.

He has a big inferiority complex.

He tends to let his anger and need to validate himself absolutely control all of his actions.

He doesn't care about what you think.

Or that's what he tells you, at least.

But the second something questions his authority he loses it.

It would be hilarious, really, the way he seems so terrifying and in control one moment only to crumble into a disjointed panic the next.

It would be, if he wasn't bringing the whole Enrichment Center to crumble down along with him.

When he realized that you had joined forces with GLaDOS he went livid.

How dare you? After all that he did for you and him both? You're just going to betray him like that?

He's going to bring this whole place to the ground to prove a point, if he has to.

Now that you are back on the upper levels of the Enrichment Center he isn't planning on letting you go anywhere.

At first, he thought he could keep you as a test subject.

But after you proved yourself to be quite stubborn in your continued attempts to escape this place, he decided he didn't need you for that anymore.

Quite literally. He did found two perfectly functional robots that GLaDOS had left behind to serve as test subjects.

You have been more trouble than you're worth, he tells you. Only to then disclose how he's actually planning to kill you.

And he did had the intentions to go through with it... Well, until his anger cleared enough to actually let him realize who he was going to kill.

He shouldn't have hesitated, but he did.

And you managed to run from the scene. Not surprising, considering that you've been running circles around him for a while now.

But that was the last straw.

He started to bring everything in your possible paths to come crashing against themselves, constantly going between screaming at you to not dare to run away from him and pleading for you to get back in complete panic.

In the midst of all the chaos and destruction, you end up getting separated from your Portal Gun and, consequently, from GLaDOS. That left you trapped inside a closed-off amalgamation of two test chambers that had been crushed together, with no way to get out.

It had been an accident, but it was the best damn accident that had happened so far, in Wheatley's opinion.

Maybe you should stay there. Maybe you shouldn't go anywhere until you learn your lesson. If you can't behave, you might as well stay there completely isolated until you see how his company is actually preferable, a godsend really.

You're in a race against time with Wheatley, you really are.

Because this is all going to come down whether or not he's actively trying to cause it. With the way he's running this place, it's not going to last much longer.

So you either manage to reach the Central AI Chamber in time to, somehow, do another core transfer; or, more probably, you are going to need to convince him to do something to stop this.

And you're going to need to spell it out for him too. He's a dumbass, he has no idea of what he's doing or what's going on, so he's just going to ignore the blaring alarms and warnings screeching at him that this place is literally going to explode.

He's not hard to trick. But he's stubborn.

You're going to need to swallow your pride and give him what he wants, if you want to get out of confinement.

And what does he want from you, exactly?

He's... Not sure, actually.

Maybe a bit of respect. Maybe some appreciation for everything that he has done. Maybe even gratitude over the fact that he chose not to kill you. Yeah, that. Maybe if you show that you can act as civilized as you humans seem so convinced you are, he'll let you out and back on the testing tracks or something.

Honestly, if you want to pull the rug out from under him, just tell him that you love him. As a friend, or just in general, really.

He'll be completely caught off guard. It's... Not what asked out of you exactly, but... It's close enough, he decides.

And by "close enough" he actually means way better than he expected. Surprisingly so. Though he won't really tell you that.

From now on, your survival depends fully on how well you can keep Wheatley calm.

While rather easy to fool, he's also incredibly unstable.

Though he does like to believe that you're finally on his side and that he can keep you here, he'll lose his shit if he even suspects that you may have lied to him or are just using him to escape.

Then it's right back to the closed-off test chamber with you.

[thatbookgirl1118]

Aight y'all.

I keep seeing these Snape hate posts, and it's driving me nuts. I think a lot of people are just jumping on the bandwagon because of the disgusting things JK's been saying lately, and while I agree that she's being terrible, it doesn't have anything to do with Snape and I don't think that warrants condensing this man's entire complex, conflicting background into "guy got friend-zoned and didn't leave her alone."

So here's why Snape is not the horrible character y'all been making him out to be lately:

Number one. Lily. One of the favorite reasons for why Snape is terrible is that he's a 'creepy stalker' and wouldn't leave Lily alone.

Let's take a look at the facts.

Lily and Snape met when they were, like, eight. They were the only people who understood each other, and Snape was the one person Lily could go to when Petunia was being a royal biatch. They were BEST FRIENDS.

Then they go to Hogwarts, and they're sorted into different houses. Not just different, OPPOSITE. SLYTHERIN AND GRYFFINDOR. And you know what happened? NOTHING. LITERALLY. NOTHING. THEY STAYED FRIENDS. Yes, it was a bit of a strain, especially once Lily and James became friends, but in reality the cause of their falling out had nothing to do with her being a Gryffindor. And before she became friends with James, let's remember: she HATED him. VEHEMENTLY. And Snape agreed, especially considering he was FREAKING BULLIED BY HIM. James was a good person at heart, and he did a lot of good things, but let's please not forget that he made mistakes, too. It doesn't discount the good things about him, it makes him human, and let's please remember that THAT'S KINDA THE WHOLE POINT OF THE SERIES. So how things stand: Snape and Lily are inter-house friends, James is an ass. (Also, part of the reason Snape hated James initially was that he liked Lily, and so did Snape. The difference, of course, was that James was a complete ass to everyone INCLUDING Lily, and Snape was her best friend.) Then Snape starts falling in with the wrong crowd. And his friendship with Lily becomes a liability, because she's both a Gryffindor and, far more importantly, Muggleborn.

Now. I'm NOT saying that everything Snape did was okay. A lot of it was disgusting and despicable and generally horrible. But again. He's HUMAN. He's kinda the biggest grey area on earth, and that makes him HUMAN.

So, one day, when James is, as usual, being a complete ass, Lily stands up for Snape. And he's feeling scared, and embarrassed, and weak, and all the other things VICTIMS OF BULLYING tend to feel, and the girl he likes just stood up for him. Which had to hurt, because Snape wants her to see him as a protector, because he likes her, but she just saved HIM. Add this to all the conflicting emotions he must be having about the future Death Eaters he's hanging out with, and his desire to both have and protect Lily, and he's basically a ticking time bomb. And he explodes. And calls Lily a mudblood.

Major wtf is wrong w u moment.

But that's the point. He SCREWS UP. Because he's HUMAN.

At this point, Snape knows he's gone too far. He probably could've salvaged the relationship, and he probably knew that somewhere in his heart, but he was probably mostly feeling horrified and sick to his stomach and had also, lets remember, kinda convinced himself that Lily liked James and she could never be his. He didn't feel worthy of her. So he decides to distance himself from her, because he knows he's getting mixed up with the wrong people, but it's what everyone expects from him. But she doesn't belong there, and he wants to protect her (also one of the main reasons he probably got involved with these people in the first place, to try and protect her), so he tells her to stay away from him.

Now, if I remember correctly (I could be completely wrong because it's been a bit since I read the last book, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong), Lily didn't actually stop. I'm pretty sure she tried to talk to him several more times after the incident. That's not the behavior a victim of stalking and abuse would exhibit, don't ya think? But even if this didn't happen, I think we've made a firm case for them being CLOSE FRIENDS. Honestly I wouldn't blame her for immediately abandoning his dumb butt after what he said to her.

So fast forward a bit. Lily marries James, and Snape joins Lord Voldemort. Then he hears the prophecy Trelawney gives, and not knowing who it pertains to, tells Voldemort. Voldemort then becomes convinced that it means Harry.

Now, Snape has not only just discovered that the love of his life is about to be killed, but that it was HIS FAULT. He told Voldemort about the prophecy. So he goes to Dumbledore and literally BEGS him to hide Lily. In return he turns traitor to the Death Eaters and risks his life over and over, all for the arbitrary promise he's been made that Lily and her family will be protected. AND HER FAMILY. HE DIDN'T PULL THE THING WHERE HE ONLY SAVES HER AND LETS THE REST OF THEM DIE HE SAVES ALL OF THEM BECAUSE HE KNOWS LILY DOESN'T LOVE HIM BUT HE. STILL. LOVES. HER. AND HE WANTS HER TO BE HAPPY AND SAFE EVEN IF IT ISN'T WITH HIM. Y'ALL THAT'S THE EXACT DEFINITION OF TRUE LOVE YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME.

And then, after all that, Lily DIES. As does James, and while he may have been Snape's rival, I think we've established that Snape is human, and that had to hurt if only because he was the man Lily loved and the father of her child.

And after all this, after risking his life for a promise that wasn't even kept, do you know what he did?

He stayed and helped Dumbledore. He was one of the main reasons Harry was able to defeat Voldemort. Yes, in the beginning, it was probably just a convenient way to avoid Azkaban. But he did what Dumbledore instructed EVEN AFTER THE MAN WAS DEAD. He could've easily killed Dumbledore and then joined Voldemort for real, but he helped Harry instead, because he was still atoning for what happened to Lily.

And speaking of Harry, let's talk about that relationship. From even a conceptual standpoint, before they ever met, think about what this boy represents to Snape. He's Lily's son, yes, but because of that he's a constant reminder of her and everything that happened with her. He's also James' son, Snape's bully and the man who got Lily. And to top it all off, he's the REASON SHE'S DEAD. If it weren't for him and the prophecy, she'd still be alive. Now, these are not things that are okay to think about an innocent child. I'm not saying he was justified in treating Harry like shit. In fact, I loathed Snape with my entire soul for the first 6 books. I'm saying LOOK AT THE FACTS. Snape is not a normal person. He's a Death Eater, who's done and seen terrible things, and only switched to the right side because of Lily. So he's not going to think to himself, "this isn't this innocent child's fault." Hell, even if he did, he's not going to take it into account when he interacts with the kid. And on top of it all, as is said several times, Harry is INCREDIBLY like his father. He looks like him, talks like him, and has a penchant for getting into trouble. So when he clashes with Snape (and honestly I think even if they didn't have a history these two would've clashed, they're just too different), Snape takes it personally and treats Harry like shit. AND YET. First year, when Quirrel tries to kill Harry, who saves him? Snape. Third year, when Lupin transforms into a werewolf (and Snape's been making his potion all year and whether Dumbledore forced him or not, let's remember that Lupin was a Marauder and while he probably didn't take direct part in the bullying, he certainly didn't DO anything about it, so frankly it's a miracle Snape didn't poison him), his first instinct is to protect the children - and frankly I think that would've been his first instinct no matter who those kids were, because regardless of the terrible things he's done, Snape is first and foremost a teacher. Fifth year, while he didn't do anything to help the kids directly, he takes the warning Harry gives him (they've got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden) and sends the Order after the kids. I don't think it's ever directly stated that it was him, but how else could the Order know they were there? ALSO. I'M NOT GLOSSING OVER ALL THE SERIOUSLY HORRIBLE THINGS SNAPE DID FIFTH YEAR. But he DID send the Order, so let's give credit where credit's due. He also gives Harry Occlumency lessons, which he made exceedingly unpleasant but he was still trying to protect Harry. Sixth year he hurts Harry in about a billion ways, but to be fair the majority of those ways were ordered by Dumbledore (I have a separate rant on why he's not a bad character either but this essay is long enough). He also tries to protect Malfoy this year, yes on both Dumbledore and his mother's orders, but Snape does recognize that he's just a child and shouldn't have to do something like this.

Now. Seventh year. Snape does a lot of really horrible things this year. Yeah, he does them because he needs Voldemort to trust him so he can bring him down, but that doesn't excuse them. I'm not going to unpack all those things here, because this is already really long, but I'm NOT just ignoring them. Actually I think that they're pretty important to his development, and how he loses himself a bit. But let's look at the two moments that really show the good in him.

Number one. He refused to fight McGonagall. This woman has not only been his colleague for many years, she was his TEACHER. He's known her since he was 11. She's witnessed everything he's gone through, every choice he's made, good and bad, and even not knowing all the reasons and details she STILL forgave him. She treated him with respect, as a fellow teacher. She TRUSTED him, and as far as she knows, he betrayed that trust. That HAD to hurt, knowing she thought he was a bad guy. So in his final interaction with her, when she attacks him to keep him from Harry, he doesn't fight. He can't tell her he's on her side, because he still has a job to do, but he just deflects her spells. His refusal to fight her is the last good piece of him, fighting its way out.

The second time was, of course, his final moments with Harry. After everything he's done to him, after the years of abuse and killing Dumbledore in front of his eyes, Harry still feels pain when he realizes Snape is about to die. He still feels the need to talk to Snape in his final moments, to carry out his final request (to take the memories to the pensieve). This is personally one of my favorite Harry moments, because it shows just how good and kind he is, that he even feels pity for a man he hates and doesn't even know why. But let's take a look at Snape. He's literally dying, but his first reaction to seeing Harry is to give him the memories, so he can defeat Voldemort. He is, to the very end, loyal to Dumbledore. And his second thought - his last - is Lily. He asks Harry to look at him, so that he might see Lily's eyes one last time, even if they're not really hers. His last thought on this earth was of her, and if that isn't love, I don't know what the hell is.

The point of all this is, Snape is human. He isn't necessarily a good person, but he isn't necessarily and a bad one either. Even as a child, he was never as kind as Lily, but she made him kinder. The time when he lost his way the most was when she stopped being there to keep him good. He thought she was happy without him, so he didn't think he mattered, and he did some pretty horrible things. People go dark when they think they don't matter. That was the entire reason for Voldemort's thirst for power. And when he realized she was in danger, and there was something he could do, he did it. Immediately. Without hesitation. He joined the good side and risked his life for the chance that Dumbledore would protect her and her family, even knowing that she'd never know what he was doing. He didn't do it to "get the girl." He did it to save the girl, to let her be happy. And when she died anyway, he spent the next 16 years trying to bring Voldemort down, and let's be honest, he probably didn't do it because it was "the right thing." He did it because it was what Lily would've wanted. He did it to honor her memory, and to protect her son. Snape wasn't some creepy stalker who got rejected and turned bitter. He fell in love with his best friend and spent his entire life trying to protect her and keep her happy, and then trying to honor her memory. He was a man entirely motivated by love, and honestly, I don't know what's more beautiful than that.

[unlackeyed]

begonia : how cautious is your muse ? are they prone to noticing red flags , or paranoid to the point of untrusting most everyone ? why or why not ?

❥     𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒    [   𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂    ]   .

headcanon prompts with questions based on plants   &   what they represent in flower language .  happy roleplaying !!  ♡

Oh this is such a great question, thank you.

So Snively’s very name is derisively aimed: toward him. His real legal name is Colin, and he secretly still wishes people would call him by that name, but his father decided to rename him (not officially, but so often referring to him by that name that it stuck, and even Robotnik, his uncle, who initially treated him well, picked up the habit).  Literally from birth, he was accustomed to being castigated or demeaned, down to his very name. 

This’ll give you a good idea of how much trust he is able to muster, in the basic kindnesses of others.  I once wrote a fanfiction detailing his redemption and assumption of the honorary mantle of a Freedom Fighter, and the day that the Freedom Fighters (Resistance in games canon) realized the depth of psychological damage done to Snively was when he showed up at 7 in the morning with a full deroboticizer repair briefing and apologized, literally groveled, for still having some bugs to work out, when he had been working on the problem for the entire night.  They realized this, by Robotnik’s standards, was “laziness,” and worthy of (at the very least) corporal punishment and verbal abuse.

Snively spent his adolescence and young adulthood as Robotnik’s Second-in-Command, and the price of that position of power was constant systematic punishment for any act of personal agency.  Speaking out of turn? Get a slap across the mouth, or go step really really close to the ledge of the bridge overlooking the metal grinder.  Fond of that shirt? Burn it. Proud of your hair? Shave it bald.  Fail to catch the Hedgehog? Congrats, you get to drink toilet water while I watch, or maybe I won’t let you relieve yourself for twelve hours. Remember, you’re always one step away from being roboticized, Snively, I keep you organic because having a lackey doing my bidding who isn’t even a mindless robot is fun and novel and gives me a sick power rush.  And so on. 

The abuse really was egregious and Robotnik’s standards both impossible and erratic, his temper legendary. So now Snively has learned how to make himself as small and quiet as possible around new people, because in his distorted and wounded world view, trust is a liability, and an opening for further abuse. Living things really do learn from environmental conditioning.  So both literally and figuratively, he shrinks himself and learns to watch, and to collect information on everyone around him like leverage  should they ever, inevitably in his eyes, turn on him.  At heart he is a wounded child who is jealous of the way all those around him seemingly find ways to be positively affirmed for doing good work and just having intrinsic value.  

His paranoia eases the longer he’s in the company of good Mobians, and out from under the thumb of his uncle, even though he sometimes struggles with his PTSD and Attachment Disorder in maladaptive ways (avoidance, substance abuse).  Making friends with similar interests (computers and mechanics) who, with time, simply prove him wrong by never betraying him, will go a long way to changing his view of the world as inherently ungrateful and dangerous. 

[sepublic]

The Infinity Train’s All-or-Nothing Gamble

           Oh, Simon Laurent, you… MESSED UP, messed up… I don’t even know what to call you… A pile of ash? That seems a bit too soon, but then so was bragging about murdering Tuba, so I mean. Mm.

           A lot of people are rightfully discussing how small Simon’s number was, how he was just a kid when he got abducted by the Infinity Train! And it makes you wonder, surely he could’ve figured things out on his own, had the Infinity Train NOT kidnapped him, right…?

           …But by that logic, we could also say that surely he would’ve improved HAD it taken him? Obviously having seen that option through, Simon didn’t improve and instead became a straight-up murderer and traitor. Given what Oweeeeeen Dennis had to say about the Infinity Train appearing to people who are at a ‘crossroads’ in life, it makes me think…

           …What if Simon was, in a sense… destined to be messed-up? That had the Infinity Train not picked him up, it could see into his future, and it would’ve seen that Simon would’ve become just as screwed-up an adult in the human world, as he did on the Infinity Train?

           But the Infinity Train is WEIRD, to say the least. There are a lot of variables. Perhaps Fate isn’t as determined on the Infinity Train, as it is in our world. So, the Infinity Train kidnaps Simon, under the belief that… Either he’ll still become as messed-up as he was fated to be due to his circumstances and mindset, OR there was a chance he’d improve! And even the smallest chance is better than NO chance at all, so one might argue that the Infinity Train was justified!

           Of course, Oweeeeen also said that the Infinity Train and One-One can be wrong. So…?

           (I’d ask him myself, but somehow I doubt I’d get a straightforward answer.)

           Does the Infinity Train appear to people, ideally at moments when their hypothetical numbers would be at their lowest? It never appeared to Amelia until after Alrick’s death… But then again, why appear before his death, what would she fix/learn then? How to cope with the death of a loved one BEFORE they died???

           Oweeeeen mentioned crossroads. It makes me wonder if once a person has an issue, then the moment they’re at a crossroads, where they could proceed to fall down a slippery slope no matter how low their number is, OR change for the better… That either option is equally likely… Then the Infinity Train comes in to hopefully tip the scales in the balance of their emotional healing. Healing is a weird process… Could a passenger’s number stay stagnant for a long while, or would it inevitably climb because of this, as that’s proof they’re not improving and being stuck in their old ways?

           What if the Infinity Train knew Simon was messed-up no matter what, and picked him up because his interactions with others (not just Grace but the kids who joined the Apex) could teach them a lesson? Though with Grace, I’d question this… Which makes me wonder if SHE was also gonna be super-messed up, with or without Simon. So in the end, Simon and Grace were put on for the sake of some other kids destined to board the Infinity Train, while still given the chance to improve themselves… Who knows? Maybe not even Oweeeeen!

           Discussing Simon “Boy am I MESSED UP or what?” Laurent further, it’s worth noting that Grace, at least initially, is willing to take the blame for misleading Simon. That part of her growth came from acknowledging that she DID deceive him. For a moment Grace said that Simon could absolve himself of the blame, that could he change while not actually having to confront himself over HIS own mistakes by dumping them onto Grace! But the whole time he tries to kill her, it’s not over lying to him and causing Simon to become a murderer… Rather, Simon is under the impression that Grace only started lying recently.

           Does he know, deep in his heart, that he really CAN’T blame Grace for this- That should it turn out that Amelia was telling the truth, he was still accountable for his actions no matter what Grace said at the time… And her admitting that she’s not supposed to take care of him basically confirmed this? Was Simon latching onto the IDEA of Grace, the idea of a Grace that was never wrong… And now he was trying to kill off this ‘corrupted’ Grace to preserve the perfect one in his memory?

           Because admitting she was wrong, even if he tries to scapegoat the blame onto Grace… I think Simon would’ve been more horrified by the thought of a Grace who was always wrong up until now, VS a Grace who had actually been totally right and had only recently gone down the wrong path! And he’s more betrayed by the former option than the latter… So Simon just opts to shut up Grace, because clearly she’s become a liability if she’s wrong now! And if turned out that Grace had been wrong from the beginning, well then why suddenly start trusting her at all, period? I mean, look at how she threw Hazel under the bus! (Train? Well not really only TUBA was thrown underneath the train…)

           Of course, Simon only acknowledges that Hazel was genuinely betrayed if it’s in a context that justifies his dislike of Grace, because otherwise you can’t betray a thing, right? Because otherwise fully acknowledging that moment as a betrayal also means fully acknowledging Hazel as a person, which means fully acknowledging that Simon considered killing a CHILD and that her grief over Tuba was real… you get the idea. I swear it’s like I’m taking a Criminal Psychology course and Simon is my case-study…!

           Going off what @fermented-writers-block reminded me, of what Oweeeeeen said about the Infinity Train ‘trying to account for all possibilities’ with its many, MANY cars, some of inexplicable practicality…? I have to wonder if the implication is that, be it on a literal or metaphorical sense, the chaotic environment of the Infinity Train provides more means and basis for change, for a passenger to pick a certain path and go down it… Versus the more orderly structure back home.

           Granted, what if the Infinity Train were to rescue a passenger from a war-torn environment? Surely THAT would be a lot less ‘orderly’ than the Infinity Train! But then again its objective is more towards healing, so… Either the Infinity Train rescues someone from a bad situation and they’re in a better one on the Infinity Train so they can heal! OR it’s just as bad… but also chaotic enough that the randomness of events and experiences could cause a change in –hopefully- the right direction!

           That is to say… The Infinity Train doesn’t know what it’s doing either. If we DO get a Book 4, I have to wonder if the direction will be One-One taking a more proactive role as Conductor and making sure passengers are less messed-up… Of course once he DOES start stepping up with his role, then why stop there? Why not keep breaking MORE rules, until you eventually decided to stop putting people aboard the Infinity Train in the first place? And I have to wonder if the hypothetical Book 4 will go more into the determinism of the denizens, especially since Lake is a pretty vocal indication in the direction of them being able to make their own destiny, for the most part.

           And hey- If Lake can do it, then maybe One-One is capable of learning some sense, and just stopping the Infinity Train, period! Or at the very least, only picking passengers up from objectively-terrible and dangerous situations where they’d TOTALLY die or be further traumatized, and then being more proactive in keeping them safe as they make a journey… Or just dropping them off somewhere else back on Earth!

           Honestly I would not be at all shocked if Oweeeeeeen’s idea for a hypothetical ending involved the Infinity Train no longer making any ‘stops’ for passengers, that this is the last ride… It’ll keep moving, but only for its denizens (because we’ve established they’re people and destroying the Train and their lives is unfair). Or, the Infinity Train just keeps going, and GOING… Because they don’t call it the Infinity Train for nothing!

           Jeez, this train is making me go mad. No wonder Simon went nuts. Overall, if I HAD to guess… I think the Infinity Train, as pointed out to me by @fermented-writers-block, is just as chaotic as Earth, that both Earth and the Infinity Train allow people to choose their own fates respectively, that your destiny isn’t pre-determined on Earth when you’re potentially rescued by the Infinity Train! It’s just that to the Infinity Train, if you’re at a crossroads in your head, it may as well pick you up because the chaotic environment provides more potential… 

          More potential for growth, but also more potential for becoming messed-up, so it’s an All-or-Nothing Gambit, like some messed-up Gambler designed this automaton! Like the train WANTS you to go ALL THE WAY with your healing, or go all the way with becoming messed-up, because apparently Earth is too stagnant for meaningful progress in either direction right?

[titaniumandtestosterone]

Tony’s History: Avengers Assemble

//under cut for length

After the whole incident with Obadiah, things started to get weird. Tony had lived a relatively normal life, for that of a transman at least, up until then. Because of the suit he'd built, he now seemed to be on the radar of an organization called the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. To be honest though, once he started looking into what and who they were, they seemed to have their finger on the pulse of everything abnormal in this world. It seemed odd that they would seek him out.

Then again, Tony really never considered himself the superhero type. Neither did they, considering once they were officially able to sit down with him, labeling him volatile, self-obsessed and didn't play well with others. He'd nearly been about to argue with that, but then acquiesced. It had defined him to a T and he simply moved on, wondering how they could approve him for the project they'd presented to him but not approve him. Instead, the director Nick Fury said they wanted him as a consultant, to help them piece together the initiative. Really, Tony should have known even in that capacity, after becoming Iron Man, known that he'd be a part of the initiative anyway. It was bound to happen.

Many times, Tony found himself fixating on the fact that he was in fact a superhero now, just like Captain America was. He was Iron Man. Aside from the fact that he'd noted that the moniker wasn't exactly precise, that his suit was actually a titanium alloy, he did like the not so obvious detail about being called Iron Man. Being transgender, he had a certain affinity to what the periodic table element of the word. Fe for Iron, and then man=male. Iron Man was really the best depiction for Transgender Man and he loved it, working it into the transgender clothing and accessories sideline to complement the phallus prosthetic venture. It was pure genius.

While working on the Avenger initiative, Tony learned that S.H.I.E.L.D. had found Captain America frozen in ice and once they brought him up to speed, they wanted him for the Avengers Initiative as well. It was odd, somehow all the childhood fantasies started manifesting in his dreams again, both sleeping and waking. He remembered how when he really little, he'd imagine that he was like Captain Roger's sidekick, Bucky Barnes, and go on adventures with him. It was funny how he hadn't imagined himself to be a superhero back then, yet now he actually was one.

When he actually met Captain America face to face, things didn't seem to go how he'd imagined throughout the days after he'd learned he was alive until then. He had thought he'd be as obsessed with him as he had been when he was younger, but instead all his resentment toward his father seemed to channel itself toward Captain Rogers and they ended up on the wrong foot. It wasn't how he'd wanted their association to begin, but he hadn't done anything to stop it.

They worked extremely well together though. Just as Tony had predicted, he was not strictly used for his consulting capabilities, but for his usefulness as Iron Man as well. When Loki of Asgard attacked the city of New York, Captain America and Iron Man lead the newly formed Avengers in taking back the city and driving the invaders out. The whole team had worked very well together, despite being a motley crew. It just seemed to really work.

Meeting Bruce Banner had been a delight. His genius rivaled Tony's, but he was even more impressed by the fact that he literally was two different people. It was quite the Jekyll and Hyde situation, but the Hulk was actually pretty handy to have on the team. His IQ left little to be desired, but Banner definitely made up for that when he wasn't hulked out. Tony was glad to have him on the team and even more so to have someone around he could have a halfway decently intellectual conversation with.

Getting to know Natasha Romanoff had been interesting to say the least. When she showed up at Stark Industries, under an assumed identity, infiltrating the system so Fury could get intel on him, Tony nearly shit bricks. If he hadn't been dealing with palladium poisoning from his arc reactor at the time, things probably gone a whole lot differently. As it was, they helped him unlock the secrets that would lead him to discovering how to create vibranium to replace the core that had been killing him. All in all, he was glad to have someone with Natasha's skillset on the team.

Clint Barton… Tony was still trying to figure out how he thought about less lucrative Robin Hood. He seemed resourceful yet not all that practical. Then again, he seemed to be connected to Natasha in some odd way, which seemed a lot like a liability. Tony wasn't altogether certain if it was good to have them both on the team, and Natasha seemed like the more likely option to stay, but that call wasn't Tony's to make. Then again, it's not like they really had a boss, even if S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to think they were the boss for all of them.

Having the God of Thunder show up was quite fortuitous, Tony realized. Certainly, it would have been lack of judgement on the Asgardians not to follow the deviant Loki to Earth and not try to stop him, but Thor showing up and making an alliance with the Avengers was definitely advantageous. It definitely saved Earth from having to figure out how to contact the Asgardians to come pick up their criminal. Then again, Earth's officials had wanted to keep him to stand trial there, but none of them were willing to go toe-to-toe with the Asgardian King, Odin the Allfather, a god, especially after not seeing what his children were capable of doing.

[kinghoranshit]

Tell Me a Lie (NH) Ch 1

Word count: 1,514

Warnings: Swearing

Slightly frustrated, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and then twisted it into a messy bun. I set my classic square, thick rimmed, black glasses on my face and I continued on trying to read the final turnaround manuscript for Stone Cold. It was the first book of the trilogy that my best friend and I wrote through college. We decided to finally take the initiative to self-publish it. 

My bachelor’s was in English, with a concentration in creative writing. I was an editor for a company based in London, United Kingdom while I lived in the United States. I wasn’t ready to move across the ocean yet. 

I bit down on my black ballpoint pen, concentrating on the words. It was the read through before I’d make it into a PDF with InDesign. This was the time to make any last minute changes we wanted, which was both exciting and nerve-wracking. As my meadow eyes flowed across the paper, I barely made any marks. 

I glanced at the time on my phone and cursed under my breath. 

It was 6:00 pm. I needed to change my editing to the current manuscripts for work. 

Fuck. 

I marked my spot before I closed the binder and switched it out with the Rivals binder. There was a ding from my laptop before I could get indulged, and noticed Skype had pulled up. I furrowed my eyebrows and my heart skipped a bit when I saw his name and picture. I answered and adjusted my position so I was facing it more. 

His blue eyes filled my vision, literally. 

“Niall, back the fuck up.” 

His laugh sounded and he backed his phone away now. I was getting a wonderful view of bare chest hair and double chin now.

“Laureeeen.”

“Niaaalll,” I mocked.

He was obviously tired, but he wouldn’t sleep until he wanted to. He was a stubborn motherfucker like that, I’ve learned over the past few years. It didn’t matter what timezone he was in compared to me. Currently, he was six hours ahead.

He made a short laugh. “How’s it going?”

I shrugged as I brought my legs up to my chest and peered over them with my chin resting on my knees. “Alright, I had to stop the final editorial for Stone Cold and switch to one for work. Spent more time on it than I intended… It’ll be a late night.”

“Hast doth serious?” 

I made a small snort, laughing a little more. “Ye, hast doth tots serious. Why ist ye calling doth?” 

Niall laughed. “Doth hast a plan to present thee.”

“Ok. Can thee stop speaketh like thisth?” 

“Yes.”

I smiled. “What plan are you talking about?”

“I want you to be my next PR girlfriend.” 

I busted out laughing, hysterically. It was embarrassing, but I couldn’t stop. 

“Kelly, love, I’m serious. This is a legit business offer.”

I stopped now, clearing my throat. “Really?” 

Niall nodded, ruffling a hand through his hair. 

“Why me? How did you come to the conclusion of having me as a PR girlfriend?”

He chuckled under his breath and sat up more on the couch. “Well… It’s just… Management thought it’s time for another PR girlfriend. I chose you because I thought you’d be able to handle it... and I don’t hate you.”

“Good to know.” I smirked, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach. “I’m not quite saying yes yet, and I’m not saying there has to be something in it for me… but is there?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the deal would be one tweet from me official account to promote the Stone Cold trilogy with the link, and Modest! will pay off all the student loan debts you have.”

My eyes went a little wide and I took a slow, deep breath. “That’s quite the trade, Nialler. I don’t know if I could accept all that for being your fake girlfriend.”

“Lauren, trust me, the trade is enough for what you might endure. It might not even be enough, now that I think about it. I sort of hate myself now for even thinking of dragging you in.”

I shook my head. “Niall… Don’t worry.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re saying yes?” 

“Yes. So, how is this going to work exactly?”

“Before we can even do anything, I’m gonna send ya papers to sign. Just formal stuff and liability.”

“Of course, of course,” I replied. My mind raced to how we would go about this, and I knew it would involve paparazzi. Photos would be spread everywhere and there would be no going back after it started. 

I bit the inside of my cheek as I played with the cap of my pen.

“What’re you thinking, Kelly?” Niall questioned, worry underlying his tone. 

I cleared my throat. “I’m not backing out, I promise. I just know that once it starts, there’s no going back. It’ll take time to adjust.” 

“I’ll be there every step of the way. Our first thing will be getting photos of us in public together and the fandom will kick it off from there… We’ll confirm it eventually. Then have an interview or two and events with red carpets.” 

“Okay.” I nodded with a slightly heavy sigh. “Sounds easy enough. When’re you thinking we’ll do the first photos?”

He let out a heavy sigh, causing his front ends to fly up momentarily, and then he couldn’t help himself from ruffling his hand through them. “If we can get the paperwork sorted in the next day or two, I was thinking in roughly two weeks. Location is still to be decided.”

“Okay. It’ll be great to see you in person again. We haven’t in over a year.” 

“Yeah, well I was busy with the tour,” he remarked with a chuckle. 

“I know, the last time I saw you was the Chicago show.”

He scoffed. “I can’t believe you bought the meet and greet. I got you backstage after the show.” 

I rolled my eyes. “I wanted to support one of my best friends. We got a great photo to commemorate.” 

“You’re right.” He lightly rolled his eyes. 

“What’s our cute meet story?” I asked, randomly considering it. I felt that it would be important for the fans to think we were believable. 

He smirked, his blue eyes brightening. “We met in London at a coffee shop a few years back by chance and continued to talk from there. I asked you out around my 25th birthday and you cried, saying yes. We’ve been together since… Good, right? I made up the story meself.”

I giggled. “Yeah, it’s good. So we’ve been together for over a year?... And I don’t think I cried. I think you cried after I said yes.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kelly. How about no one cried then, yeah?” 

“Deal.” I stood up now and prepared my keurig to make a cup of decaf coffee. I needed something if I was going to get anything done after this call. I knew I spent too much time on personal projects; it was a constant fight. 

“Coffee, eh?” he snickered. 

I looked at him with an amused grin. “Always. But it’s decaf, a pick me up to get me through the rest of the work.”

Niall nodded. “Been there. Had some long studio sessions recently that led to a few cups of tea.”

“Man, I wish I hadn’t run out of my grey tea.” I would’ve preferred that for a night of editing. Coffee was more of an early morning and afternoon beverage. 

“You’re so basic,” he teased. “Where have the lessons I’ve taught you gone?”

I rolled my eyes. “In one ear and out the other.” I couldn’t help laughing at the offended look on his face. “I’m joking. Hey look, I should let you go so you get some sleep and I can get editing done.”

He yawned lightly. “Perfect. Goodnight, Lauren. Text ya soon.” 

“You too.” 

We made small waves and smiles before we ended the call. His face took a while to fade away from my mind. Honestly, it probably won't be until tomorrow. He was just so unforgettable and without a doubt the bestest friend to have. He could always make me smile on my lowest of days. Now we were going to possibly be a PR couple. 

Well this was fucking mad. I guess it was time for life to throw me another curveball to change my life; for better or for worse. I was going to go with it head on. 

I wasn’t sure how much I’d tell my friends and family at the moment. I should wait for the contract and see what my guidelines were. I knew that included my social media so I was going to go silent for a bit until it was settled. 

My eyes read the black ink on the paper, but my mind wasn’t registering anything. Fuck, I needed to focus. This wasn’t set and done yet. It shouldn’t be a concern for me at this point of time. 

Next: Ch 2 

[Masterlist]

[storyoflovingaddiction]

Fluffy ABCs| O. Diaz

A/N: Hey guys I’m back from the dead! Hehe, it’s been pretty long since I’ve written stuff, so to get back in the game here are some fluffy prompt ABCs. 

I got these ABCs from @nightboundless

Request: OPEN (but it’s probably going to take me 20 years lol)

I was rushing to post this so there are probably a lot of errors

Follow me on instagram

A – Anger (What was their first fight about? Any big or recurring arguments?)

The pairs’ first, out of many, major fight was about Oscar coming home bloody after fighting a Prophet, perhaps to prove a point or to show off, who knows. You didn’t want to have to worry about whether he would come home in a bloody pulp or not. You not so subtly suggested that he leave the Santos and stop partaking in gang activity which just resulted in a huge argument consisting of verbal abuse from the both of you along with broken furniture and hurt feelings. But deep down, Oscar knew you were right, after the argument he found himself wondering what life would be like without Gangs and being a normal couple. Part of him wants to leave the Santos, but the other half wants to stay in Freeridge to protect his brother and his girl.

B – Best (What would they say is the other’s best trait?)

Oscar loves your innocence, him being in a gang he has seen the hard truth and pain of life, you always see the good and beauty in things, and he absolutely loves you for that. He sees you as so pure and perfect to the point he’ll melt a little just thinking about it. You love Oscar’s sarcastic humor and wit, even if you were in the worst of moods, he never seemed to fail in making you smile or laugh. 

C – Camera (How do they document their relationships? Who likes to take pictures? Or videos?)

Oscar isn’t really the type to take pictures, it ruins his gang leader demeanor, but every now and then he’ll take a sneaky photo of you and save them. You being stupid, you being goofy, just any picture of you. He’ll always deny it, but his camera roll is nearly filled with pictures of you. He pretty much has a photo album called ‘princess’ which is ultimately dedicated to you and your relationship. Lowkey saves your nudes. You are a lot more open in the fact that you take pictures of his dumbass. You constantly take pictures and selfies with him and post it on social media, not much to his liking. Unlike Oscar, You’re more likely to take videos of your relationship. You love taking videos of him when he’s completely oblivious, or when he’s focusing on something so pointless.

D – Dates (What are their dates like?)

Oscar doesn’t really like to bring so much attention to himself, especially when entering a new relationship, so for a first date, it would probably be something lowkey like a Santos Party or a dumb movie. However, if he has been in a pretty long relationship he would take You to a place special to him. Like the beach he took Cesar to or a book store since he was a Spelling Bee champ when he was in school. Aside from this, he tries to take you to fancy places once in a while just to treat you like the princess you are, he can barely afford it though.

E – Early (What was the first month of dating like?) 

It was way too slow for your liking. All because Oscar wasn’t sure he wanted someone like you in his life. You were too innocent to pure, you were a liability, dating you would make you an immediate target for is enemies. He already had to watch over and protect Cesar and being with you would just add more to his plate. Eventually, the two of you managed to work through this because neither one of you wanted to end it.

F – Friends (How is their relationship with each other’s group of friends?)

Oscar absolutely hates your friends, he sees them as fake-ass hynas and certainly not the best for his princesa. 

As for you, you’ve grown to tolerate some of his friends. Some such as Mario you consider family.

G – Gifts (Do they like giving each other gifts? What kind?)

Oscar doesn’t really give gifts unless it’s a special occasion, but if he sees you eyeing something online or in a store he has no problem stealing it for you buying it for you. He’ll wrap it as best as he can and casually leave it on your bed or on the kitchen table. He tries to play coy because he really doesn’t see the big deal about buying gifts, but if you like it he’s sure as hell going to wait hours to get you what you want “You got me the bracelet?!” “I have no idea what you’re talking about, mamasita” he acts as if he doesn’t care, but secretly he can’t wait till you thank him with kisses which escalates to something more. You really love to surprise him with gifts and little charms that he’ll hang on close to. You sometimes buy him clothes to help with his limited wardrobe. 

H – Hugs (All things involving hugs)

You absolutely love hugging Oscar, you feel like he doesn’t get as much love as he should because of his image. You love tackling him into a hug and pressing wet kisses on his face. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. He loves to hug you from behind and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, the warm feeling of your bodies pressed together makes you feel weak. He always plants kisses on your neck and shoulder.

I – Inside Jokes (Do they have any?)

You and Oscar don’t really have any inside jokes, aside from funny quips, remarks, making fun of Cesar and friends, and making snarky sarcastic remarks to what each other say.

J – Jealousy (Who gets jealous easier? How do they show their jealousy?)

WITHOUT A DOUBT, OSCAR. He mostly gets jealous in public rather than at home because at home he has you all to himself. When he sees other people racking your body and checking you out like a piece of meat, he gets very territorial. He immediately holds your hand or wraps his arm around you. Sometimes he’s good at being subtle about his jealousy and to others, it just seems like he’s giving a little too much PDA, which you secretly enjoy. He definitely glares down anyone who glances your way suggestively and does things to make sure they know you’re his and only his. Oscar has ZERO tolerance for people putting their hands on you. He’s thrown a few punches here and there, beaten up a few people just so people get the message not to touch his girl. Oscar gets very jealous for your touch and doesn’t think anyone else other than himself deserves it. Sometimes you get flirty comments and catcalls thrown at you, but you just ignore them, Oscar hates how you can be so patient with them, instead, he’ll reply to the guy as snarky as possible and tighten his grip on you. He absolutely has no problem in grabbing you mid-sentence and pulling you into a heated kiss if you were talking to another guy he didn’t like or is suspicious of. After dating him for so long you start to pick little signs on his jealousy, like, when he’s really jealous he gets touchy. He slips his hand in your back pocket, grip your ass and/or breasts, or attack your neck with kisses, and yes, in public. No one messes with you unless they want to die. He literally doesn’t give a damn, you’re his, and he needs people to know that.

K – Kiss (How do they kiss? Who usually initiates?)

Oscar would definitely be the one to initiate the kisses, he absolutely loves the warm feeling of his lips on top of yours. If you start the kissing you like to go in soft chaste before he decides to deepen it and make it more passionate and sexy. He holds you tightly as he kisses you as if you’d disappear if he didn’t. Usually, if Oscar starts the kissing he’ll try to let it escalate into something more.

L – Love (How do they first say those three words?)

Oscar fell in love the first couple months of dating you, but he never really could say those three words out loud. Part of him thought the relationship might end and there was no point trying to commit. You would most likely be the first to say it. It would happen out of the blue, maybe when the two of you were cuddling, and you just blurted it out. It caught Oscar by surprise and you were very embarrassed when he was silent for a couple seconds until he whispered back “..ok”. You were very happy that day because you knew that it was very hard for him to open up about things. He loves you very much but is just scared of commitment.

M – Movies (What kinds of movies do they watch together? Is it a regular Netflix ritual?)

Oscar would like to watch movies with serious plots that aren’t ridiculous. I feel like he isn’t the type to watch comedies or romance, He likes action, thriller, horror, and drama. He also enjoys watching movies and shows with gangs, so he can point out everything wrong about it and make fun of it. You love feel-good movies and binging Netflix shows. You often force Oscar to watch shows like The Office with you. 

N – Nicknames (Things they call each other)

Oscar calls you “babe” “baby” “mami” “mamasita” “baby girl” just classic relationship names because he’s too lazy to think of anything else. 

O – One (Tell us about the moment they realized they were with the one.)

You knew early on, you felt a sense of security whenever you were with him and you loved that, but early in the relationship you knew he didn’t feel the same. Oscar hates when girls make him chase after them, that’s an automatic deal breaker, Spooky Diaz doesn’t chase after women they chase after him. It definitely knew you were the one when you kept things 100 with him, no encrypted message type deals you were straight forward and legit. He had these walls that he had built up for so long and when he was with you they came tumbling down. The two of you had formed a close and tight bond, the type Oscar only thought he could achieve with his brother. At first, he tried to convince himself you weren’t worth it. That you were just some random hyna and could easily be replaced. But good people like you don’t come easy, and after seeing you laughing with the other Santos as if you were a family made him realize that he could never live a life without you.

P – Pizza (What is their favorite food to eat together?)

Oscar is such a good cook, so I feel like as a couple your favorite food to eat is probably anything he makes. You’re constantly bugging him to cook ever since he made you the best ceviche you had ever tasted. For the most part, you’re the one cooking which he loves not only the food but the effort. He finds the fact that you wake up early every morning to make him breakfast so cute and sweet. 

Q – Quit (Do they break up? Almost break up? What happened?) \

After a very serious argument, the pair did break up but eventually came back together six weeks later because secretly they longed for each other.

R – Rainy Days (How do they comfort each other on dark days?)

Unlike Oscar, you go to college and you get very stressed about things from school, you’re parents also stress you because they would you to be with something worthwhile and serious and Oscar definitely wasn’t their first choice. When you’re stressed you automatically go to Oscar for comfort. He lets you relax against his chest and rubs circles on your back, whispering reassuring things in Spanish. You eventually fall asleep and anyone who walks in can see you snuggled against Oscar’s chest while he lies down on the couch planting kisses on your head.

S – Soft (Something one of them did that turned the other into absolute mush.)

You love when Oscar hugs you from behind and kisses your neck and shoulder. He always whispers sweet and/or naughty things in your ear and your basically silly putty in his arms.

T – Texting (Do they text each other a lot? What do they usually talk about over the phone?)

Oscar hates calling people and prefers to just text, it’s more convenient, you two especially like to text when you’re far from each other or somewhere you don’t want to be. To make sure your safe Oscar demands that you text him something that only you would text him.

U – Unique (Tell us about some of their odd habits that surprised one another.) 

I feel like the pair have gotten to know each other pretty well over the time that they’ve been dating. They’ve gotten used to each other’s little quirks and weird habits.

V – Vanity (Something they’re proud of in themselves and their partner.)

You’re very proud about Oscar’s success in being the leader of the Santos and find much pride in being “Spooky’s Girl”.

W – Wedding (Tell us about your wedding headcanon if they’ve gotten that far. Or if not, have they talked about it?)

Weddings are something you two never talk about. Oscar is very scared of commitment and you would never want to push him or pressure him into talking about topics that make him uncomfortable. Believe it or not, Oscar would love to give you the fancy wedding and the family life with a great family but with his reputation and strikes, he knows that’s never going to happen.

X – X (Something they hate about the other.)

Oscar usually has a tendency to not tell you what he’s doing or where he’s going, especially if it has to do with the Santos, and it annoys the hell out of you. You would like to be more involved with him and the gang as a way to show “Spooky’s Girl” has his back. He tends not to tell you things because he thinks it keeps you safe but really it makes you made that you’re out of the loop. Heck, Cesar and his little friends are more involved then you! Oscar doesn’t like how you pry your nose into his business. He sees it as overbearing and you’re not his mom so you shouldn’t be so worried about what he’s doing. This usually is the root of all of your arguments.

Y – YouTube (What are they like online? Do they post about their relationship constantly?)

Oscar isn’t the type to post things online and isn’t really the type to share what he does with his girl on social media period. His relationship is between him and you, not random strangers. You would probably post things sometimes. Cute videos of the two or pictures that screamed relationship goals. I feel like at one point You would try to tease Oscar by sending him a naughty picture of yourself but accidentally shared it yo your 25,000 followers on Instagram.

Z – Zoo (Are they into animals? Do they want pets? What kind?)

I feel like you two wouldn’t have any pets, it’s too much responsibility. But if you were to have a pet Oscar would prefer a dog, especially a pitbull that way you would have someone to protect you when he isn’t there.

[ncityofangels]

Shoot Out (Mafia!AU Jooheon x fem!Reader pt.2)

a/n - Sorry this took me so damn long to write, we all know I’m shit at updating properly. Anyway, I don’t really have much to say on this one. Hope y’all enjoy. <3

Part 1 <---

Summary - You meet Jooheon on a whim during a traumatic accident in your life. You don’t know what he does for a living, but you know he’s well off. As things progress you start to doubt where all the money comes from. One night you walk in on him handling mob business and get pulled into a life of crime and treachery. Things are good for a while, you being the Bonnie to his Clyde, but soon you start to question how far would you go for the one you love?

Word Count - 1.8k

Genre - some fluff, mostly angst towards the later chapters, maybe a sprinkle of smut who knows ;)

Warnings - definitely some “vulgar” language.

The pain woke you up. The sharp sting of a wound you barely recalled receiving. You assumed someone had given you painkillers to allow the little bit of rest you had actually gotten. You awoke to a bizarre and unfamiliar landscape. A four poster bed with ivory satin sheets enveloped your body. “What the hell?” you whispered. The last thing you remembered was walking home after work down a dim avenue on your way to your apartment complex. The homeless person. An image of a battered old man asking for money flashed through your brain. That’s when you really felt the stitches holding the gash in your side from continuing to gush blood. “Damn that hurts like a bitch” you whispered to yourself again. You still couldn’t tell where exactly you were, but it was nice enough to have a fully decorated guest room, so it most definitely couldn’t be a hospital. “Stab wounds tend to do that”. You heard a voice from the corner of the room, and realized there was someone standing in the doorway. A tall man with chestnut brown hair, a broad figure and a serious expression joined you in the room, shutting the door behind him. “Who the hell are you? Where am I?” You panic, immediately jumping to the worst possible scenario you could muster. That of course being that you were sold into sex trafficking and were only ‘saved’ so you could service men. This undoubtedly was not the case but you wouldn’t figure that out until later. You could tell your sudden outburst surprised him. “Well….um….I’m Shownu. This is my boss’ house. We found you bleeding on the street...uh….we have a kind of on-site doctor here and this was closer than the hospital so…” the tall man, apparently named Shownu responded. You were still suspicious about the whole situation but you decided to drop it for now, the pain in your side once again returning. You lifted your thin shirt to reveal the large bandage taped to the side of your torso. While you observed your wound, Shownu kept talking. “I was told to tell you that since you’re a guest here you’re invited to dinner tonight. There’s a dress in the closet for you to wear, and the table is set at 6. After that, if you desire, transportation will be arranged to take you back to your apartment.” he finished, proud of himself for properly delivering the message to me. You went to tell him that dinner wouldn’t be necessary and that you wished to go home as soon as possible; however, you didn’t get a chance to reply, as the boy had already escaped the room. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice” you thought to yourself. You gently rose from the bed, making sure you didn’t irritate your laceration, making your way towards the towering wardrobe that was placed in your room. You open the wardrobe to reveal an emerald green lace cocktail dress and white stiletto heels. “You have GOT to be kidding me.” I said to myself. “They do know I literally just got stabbed, right?” I sighed. Obviously this wasn’t something I was going to be able to get out of. I began to carefully undress out of my ‘shady mansion surgeon’-issued clothes and slip into the small piece of fabric provided to me. “This is weird as fuck, but what the hell”.

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Jooheon POV

“I delivered the message, sir.” Shownu said, plopping himself down in one of Jooheon’s office chairs. The superior responded with a nod of his head, nothing more. “If I may ask boss, why exactly are we involving ourselves in this?” Shownu continued. Jooheon paused the ledgers he was working on and glanced up at his employee. “What kind of mob boss would I be if I just let an innocent bystander bleed out inside the boundaries of my empire?” Jooheon joked. In all seriousness, he knew well that she could become a liability. If word got out that there had been a murder within feet of one of his tenants shops, many friends to his ‘business’ could pull out of transactions for fear of their inventory being compromised. Murder was second nature in his line of work, but any news of a non-mafia related crime spike could jeopardize future negotiations. “Speaking of the events of last night, did you take care of the man that caused this?” Jooheon asked. Shownu raised his head, responding “I think it’s safe to say he won’t be a problem anymore”. Jooheon looked satisfied. “Good. Now I want you to do one more thing for me”.

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Y/N POV

Once you were dressed, you finally liberated yourself from the confines of your room. Shownu never told you where to go for dinner so you turned down multiple hallways and ventured down a bunch of stairwells before finally coming to what you thought may be the right place. As you explored, you noticed the beautiful rustic yet modern designs in the house. From the wooden beams extending from the floor to the ceiling, to the cozy furniture included in every room. The design of the house definitely made it feel a lot more like a home, despite the size. Once in the dining room, you sit down in one of the many chairs at the table. The food was surprisingly already served and ready to eat; however, your host had yet to arrive. “Nice of you to invite a guest to dinner and not show up” you whispered to yourself, a little irritated that you got dragged to dinner with this guy and he had the nerve to be late. “Sorry about that, I had some…..business to take care of.” A man, assumedly the host of this dinner and the owner of the house, walked towards the table from a room you had yet to see. Shit, he probably heard you make that comment. He had sleek black hair and an intimidating face, but something about him was attractive. He was wearing a black suit with a green undershirt, coincidentally matching your dress. Everything about him was contradictory. His face was serious, but in some ways very soft. Like his true demeanor was hidden behind a daunting facade. You wished you could stop analyzing every little thing about him but it’s like he had a gravitational pull. “I’m Jooheon” the man said, taking his seat at the head of the table. “I’m…” You went to respond to him but he cut you off. “I know who you are”. You guessed he’s not the most well-mannered person you’ve ever met. “How exactly do you know who I am?” you implored. “We got your purse back” He responded, stuffing his mouth with whatever food was on his plate. Alright then, not a big talker either. You slowly started to eat your food, sensing that you weren’t going to get much out of him right now. At least the alfredo you were eating tasted pretty good. As all food should when it comes from the kitchen of as grand a house as this one. “How’s the wound?” Jooheon asked, restarting whatever ‘conversation’ we had initiated before; however, you were done playing games, you wanted answers. “What made you think you could just bring me to your house and patch me up instead of taking me to the hospital? I’ve never met you before” you stated. Your question was abrupt but he maintained his composure, unshaken by your urgency. “I’m sorry the accommodations I made for you aren’t suitable enough. I remind you that I could have let you die on the street without as much as a lift of a finger, so I would appreciate a little thanks in that regard” He threw back. You were shocked. How was this man already so good at throwing things back in your face. You finished what little was left on your plate and effectively dodged the response you received from your host. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. If it’s not too much to ask I’d like to be taken home now.” You quickly responded. Luckily, he had finished his dinner too and was noticeably irritated with your presence. “I think that can be arranged.” He replied. “Wait by the front door. I’ll call for an escort. I hope next time we can meet on better terms, Y/N” With that final statement, he retreated back to the hallway he originally entered from. “Hopefully I won’t get so lucky” you whispered to yourself, making your way to the entrance to the estate.

Once in the car, you thought of the events of the past 24 hours. First you were mutilated by some random homeless man. That was fun. Then you were taken to this random rich man’s house to get operated on by a currently unknown surgeon. After that you had dinner with this random rich man in his luxurious home. Now you’re finally on your way home. Honestly, this was the most adventure you’d gotten in years, but you just wanted to crawl into your own bed, in your own clothes and go back to your normal life. You arrived at your apartment pretty quickly, thus making you think that you weren’t too far away to begin with. You made a mental observation of that fact and tucked it away in some filing cabinet in your brain. Once you came to a complete stop, you hopped out of the expensive car, thanked the driver and walked up to your door. You already sensed that something was off, but you didn’t realize until you let your eyes drift around the entrance to your house. The first thing you noticed as your eyes moved upward was the brand new, state-of-the-art electronic door lock that was now installed on your door. But that wasn’t all. Security Cameras. All around your complex. Your landlord was cheap as hell so you knew he didn’t buy them. “What the hell is all of this?” you whispered softly, wondering how all these gadgets found their way to your doorstep. The last thing that caught your eye was the bouquet of white roses placed on your ‘Welcome Home’ doormat. You slowly leaned down to pick up the arrangement, carefully not to jerk too much as to bother your bandage. You noticed a familiar label attached to the wrapping around the flowers. They were from one of your favorite floral shops nearby, Lily’s. As you examined the bouquet you noticed a white card dangling from one of the roses. “Let’s see who these are from” you said, delicately opening the card to reveal a short message. “Rest up. We’ll be seeing each other very soon. -J”.