#jan my hero

[lady-assnali]

Seven (Rosé’s Version)

I guess all of these are going to be named after Taylor Swift songs, here’s the next part. No Rosenali but Rosé deserves a chance to be heard.

(This goes with Rosenali (10 Minute version) and the whole of the teacher au, which will be on AO3 at some point I’m so sorry, for now it’s pretty decently tagged on here)

———

“Are you awake?” Jan hears Rosé’s whispered question right away. She hasn’t been able to sleep, the events of the night still sitting funny in her gut. Also, they’d all been allowed to have an extra scoop of ice cream after dinner, and even though she hates to admit it she’s old enough by now to know that the restlessness in her body is definitely caused by her choice of Moose Tracks and Rosé letting her sneak some of her hot fudge when she’d run out of her own. 

“I’m here.” She answers. Her voice floats through the darkness, softer than usual. Her peppy demeanor leaves her body as soon as Rosé crawls up to her from the trundle. She’s been quiet all night, sitting between Jan and Lagoona during dinner with her eyes trained on her plate. She hadn’t even fought with them over why the crust is the best part of the pizza. She’d barely touched hers. Their mother had told them to leave her alone, that sometimes people just don’t feel like talking.

But this is Rosé.

She’d just gotten to star in her first musical as a high schooler. As a freshman, no less. But she doesn’t seem to have anything to say past thanking them for coming to the show and letting her stay over. She always wants to talk. Between her and Jan, Lagoona can barely ever get a word in. Lagoona tries, and they’re not mean to her, but lately her ten feels young compared to Jan’s twelve and Rosé’s fourteen. They can’t talk about Lemonade Mouth all night long no matter how beautiful Hayley Kiyoko is.

This isn’t her.

She crawls into bed beside Jan, tucking herself in and facing the ceiling. Even in the darkness Jan can see the frown painted across her face, how her cousin doesn’t even try to start whispering silly things into the empty space between them. 

“Hey,” the younger blonde prods, turning her body to face Rosé. “Would you rather…”

“I don’t want to play right now.”

Jan sinks back into her own space, taken aback. Their sleepover games had always kept them awake well past bedtime, causing her mother to lovingly scold them all for sleeping too late the next day while making them breakfast far after the sun has risen. She’s restless in this silence, feeling awkward and young and not like herself at all. But there’s something wrong with her cousin, and she’s pretty sure she can guess what it is. Jan wiggles her way across the bed, fingers threading themselves through soft pink curls with a maternal humming.

“I know she’s your mom, but she’s stupid.” She says, and Rosé can see the roll of her eyes and the irritation through the way the blonde squeezes her tighter, arranges the blankets into a cocoon.

            “But what if it’s me?” The question sits between them, a broken admission of the fear that had been following the older girl throughout most of her life. It’s been a conversation she’s only had through silly jokes and self-deprecating jabs. I’m the ‘special surprise’ baby; the accident, the oops.. Now, all of that just feels real. Jan refuses to answer, partly because she doesn’t want Rosé to hear the way her emotions are clogging her her throat, how the crackling of her older cousin’s voice had sent her stomach an unrelenting, menthol-lingering pang of grief. 

            “She never really wanted me anyway.”

“Don’t say that.” Jan rebuts, her hand stopping in Rosé’s curls. “She’s just…” she attempts to explain the situation away, but even her level of optimism is shaken by the reality of it all.

“Exactly.”

The words seem final; Rosé closes her eyes, sighs against the familiar darkness of Jan’s room. Even though she doesn’t sleep with a nightlight or a sound machine like Rosé does, she doesn’t need it here. There’s nothing to block out. She can hear her aunt moving around the kitchen, stacking the rest of their dishes while humming to herself. Lagoona’s quick footsteps hop up and down the hallway until her father gently chides her, the two of them laughing as he catches up to her. 

Give the big girls a night alone, he warns. You can stay up for an extra half hour if you give them their privacy. Rosie needs a good night’s sleep after all that singing.

Relief floods her as she listens to their footsteps grow faint, the click of the television in the living room. She lets herself get lost in the mundane noises a house can make, the dishes and the chatter and the smooth movements of night until everything is quiet again. She isn’t sure how long it takes; Lagoona attempts to put up a fight to stay up even longer, but it’s resolved with a gentle finality. No screaming, no arguing. Jan’s breathing deeply beside her, and she looks around at the glow stars and the broadway posters and wonders how they got here-how their mothers could be sisters but act nothing alike. She’s not Jan’s sister, but the two of them have always been alike, even as babies. Maybe things like warmth aren’t doled out evenly in families. Maybe there always has to be one bruised-up banana in the bunch.

But then she gets to thinking about the cousins; her and Jan and Lagoona, Marcia and Lemon…she knows who the pick for rotten fruit would be. She hopes that skips a generation.

Jan rustles next to her, lays on her back with her hands on her stomach.

“I can’t sleep.” She says, although Rosé knows she must’ve been asleep for at least fifteen minutes before this. She grunts in agreement, keeping her eyes trained on Jan’s ceiling. “You were really good up there, Ro.”

“Thanks.”

“You deserved to be Ariel. You nailed it, and I’m so proud of you. You’re a freshman!”

“They lost a bunch of people last year, they had to pull from somewhere. Plus, my hair?”

“You got that role because you deserve it. Do you really think that girl who played the chef could’ve sang as hard as you?” Jan giggles, mimicking the French accent the senior girl playing the chef had all but butchered. It makes Rosé smile in spite of herself, and it even prods a laugh out of her when Jan uses the terrible accent to start whisper-singing Kiss the Girl. But it fades out too quickly, and the hush of the night brings back the cloud that Rosé has been sitting under. 

“What’s going on?” Jan prods.

“I’m just…really sad.” Rosé stops, attempting to keep her emotions at bay. It doesn’t work all that well; a fog crowds her eyes, a pressure that makes tears sit in their corners waiting to drop. “I thought maybe this time, she’d come. And I think that maybe that makes me an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

“Then why do I keep doing this to myself? She’s never going to come. I’m never going to get that perfect mother daughter moment. The chef got that moment. Fish #3 got that moment. But I didn’t.”

“You know what you did get? What you’ll get for the rest of your life? Us. Me and Goona and mom and dad in the front row cheering you on. You’re my sister too. You belong with us.”

“I don’t want to go home.” She sounds as little as Lagoona now, tucking the blankets up to her chin and trying not to cry. 

“Stay here.”

“I can’t. She has nobody.”

“So that means you have to be all alone too?”

She doesn’t have an answer for that, so she says nothing. Rosé closes her eyes against the familiar room, the posters and the wall of photographs and the trophies lined up in a row on Jan’s bookshelf. She tries to picture what it might feel like to live here with them, Jan and Lagoona. She’d have to share a room. She’d have to change schools. 

Her mom would be alone, maybe even wondering where Rosé had gone. She’d be angry. Everything would be her fault and nobody else’s. Or maybe she’d feel lonely, or sad. She wouldn’t have Rosé there to keep everything clean, or remember where her spare key had gone. She’d have an empty apartment for her dates but there’d be nobody there when she got broken up with again. She can’t let her mother feel that deep, empty hole in her heart. She feels it every day.

Just as her eyelids begin to feel heavy, she feels Jan’s hand slip into her own.Her younger cousin’s voice is the only love you she’s heard in weeks

[godshaper]

what are you looking at??

referencing this meme

[airanke]

August Dabi x Abiteth, which is titled "After Glow".

[jane-lynndrake-t]

If you're about to head out, using your IV stand as a kind of polearm will be good for keeping people at a range. But you obviously still need to be wary of guns or other ranged weapons.

If you can make it outside, one of the best things you could do is scream "Fire" to actually attract anyone's attention, or to call out people by specific things they are wearing instead of "somebody help me".

What are some of the most shocking things you found out about? Unfortunately the last 20 years have progressed incredibly far, leaving people lost in the wake.

That’s the plan! I don’t think I could fight off being grabbed, but even if I’m shot at I’m resolved to run no matter what.

I’ve never heard of that before, but that’s such a good idea!

Honestly, nothing has overcome the shock of just how much time has passed.

But I do feel like I took a mini class in computer science while I was focusing on whether or not I could find my specific location.

[raineandsky]

The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

The superhero waits with a patient smile whilst the security guy locks a pair of handcuffs to the hero’s wrists and to the table. And then they’re both gone, and the hero is alone in the interrogation room. As alone as they can be with the unsubtle mirror lining the wall next to them, at least.

Breaking out has proven a lot harder than the first time. The superhero’s clearly taken notes from their last escape. So here they are, four days later, once again in this interrogation room, waiting, vulnerable, scared of what it means to be here.

Security appears again after a long minute, the door creaking on its hinges in a way that almost sounds like a very familiar, “God, get your fucking claws out of my shit.”

The hero turns as far as the cuffs will let them, which isn’t far at all, but they don’t need to anyway. The villain gets dumped in the interrogator’s chair opposite them three seconds later, a string of sharp insults jabbing at the man from security whilst he locks their own cuffs to the table and pretends he can’t hear them.

The security guard steps back and the villain finally seems to notice the hero for the first time. Their eyes widen, almost imperceivable, their lips parting in surprise.

“Figured you’d like to see who got you in here,” he says, and with a self-satisfied chuckle he lets himself out the door. Just the two of them.

The villain stares at the hero. The hero averts their gaze, ashamed.

“You gave all my shit to [Superhero]?”

Disbelief. The hero wishes they could somehow look away even more. They can feel the villain’s eyes digging into them, begging questions, demanding answers. “I’m sorry,” the hero says past the lump in their throat. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve—”

“You made me a target for the agency.”

The hero’s next breath is a shudder. “I was– I was scared, I wasn’t thinking—”

“[Hero].”

“I’m so sorry, I never should have—”

“[Hero].”

The hero shuts their mouth. They risk a glance up; the villain is staring– no, watching them, with a softness they didn’t expect to find. Their brow knits into that telltale concern.

“It’s okay, [Hero]. I’m not mad about that.”

The hero tries to hold down a belated snivel of shame and fails. “You’re– you’re not?”

“I told you not to snoop. I’m mad that I couldn’t get a law-obsessed hero to follow one rule.” Their lips tip into a ghost of a smile. “But no. You gave the agency a reason to not kill me. You made me valuable.” A short laugh escapes their throat, a bark of a thing, coarse and alive. “You saved my life, [Hero].”

The hero makes some uncontained noise of bewilderment. “No, [Villain], they want information, they want you alive to—”

“They have all the information they want from me,” the villain says with a smirk. “It’s on your boss’s desk right now. My entire career was detailed in that office.”

“But then why would they—”

“Codes.” The villain’s smirk somehow gets more mischievous. “Half my paperwork is unreadable without me to decipher it, but I don’t feel like letting up on my secrets just yet. They haven’t found anything that can convince me to tell them.” Another laugh, bright, unbothered by their predicament.  “Like I say, I’m important now. Indisposable.”

The hero can only gape at them for a second. The villain truly looks out of place, their hands forced to the table, a triumphant smirk on their face like they’re not in the agency’s clutches. To them, to not die for the supervillain’s own terror, is victory.

The villain’s smirk turns into something sweeter, their eyes crinkling slightly with how genuinely they smile for a moment. “And you’re back where you wanna be,” they say softly. “Congrats.”

The hero’s gaze turns downward again. “I’m sorry for—”

“Stop apologising, [Hero]. I said it’s fine.” They reach across the table, as far as the cuffs will let them, to carefully take the hero’s hands in their own. “This couldn’t have worked out better for either of us.”

The hero flinches away from their touch like they’ve been shocked. They don’t have the heart to tell them that’s not true. “[Superhero]’s watching,” they say instead.

“I don’t care,” the villain retorts immediately, but they don’t move to retake their hands. “Look, [Hero], I stepped out of my house with a lot of feelings I didn’t get to say out loud. Walking through those streets, waiting to die, I– I regretted it sorely.”

It’s the villain now who turns their gaze away, their expression carefully neutral. “You did a lot to help me. I tried to help you in return—kind of.” A grin pulls at their lips, and the hero knows that they’re thinking of that goddamn maid outfit. “I found myself… I don’t know, starting to actually like you. I– I think I—”

The door behind the hero cracks against the opposite wall. “Alright,” the superhero says shortly, and the villain’s expression sours immediately. “Fun’s over. Let’s show our prisoners what prison actually means, hm?”

The villain’s eyes turn to the hero, confused, before seeming to finally notice the cuffs on their own wrists.

“Prisoners? What—”

Their question doesn’t come out. The security guard unlocks the villain from the table first. “What the hell does that—”

The security guard shoves the villain to their feet. They whip around to spit at the man behind them but nothing comes out. They just turn back to the hero, then the superhero, then the hero again, their expression dipping into more and more horror as the realisation of what’s happening comes to them. The man has to push them to the door.

“[Hero]—” they try, but they get shoved outside and the door slams behind them.

The superhero sets their eyes on the hero, seemingly very pleased with the outcome of their little reunion.

“Come, [Hero],” he says brightly. He unlocks their own cuffs with a click. “Let’s get these codes out of our friend, shall we?”

(Next part)

Taglist:

@runarelle @thiefofthecrowns @morning-star-whump @epiclamer

[echoes-of-mia]

haven't seen this on here yet, but apparently jan got a shirt that says "proud cat dad" yesterday and LOOK AT HIS SMILE IT'S SO CUTE

screenshot from @/madam_cyka on instagram

[maxinstoresnow-remaking]

Body Swap: if two guys went into space and died and one came back in the body of the other would that be fucked up or what

[epickiya722]

[silverstarchildd]

"I'm floating in the most peculiar way

And the stars look very different today" - Space Oddity

(alt backgrounds under cut)

[jantea]

Hizashi and Shouta, attempting to go undercover in a villain gang:

Villain: so what job experience do you guys bring to the team

Hizashi: well, we have a lot of experience with breakdancing—

Shouta: no we absolutely do not. but we did guard some lairs for a bit

Hizashi: i killed jfk

Shouta: he didn’t

(Stolen from this post)

[nervocat]

I keep forgetting I do, infact, share a birthday with a character (it's Hero from Omori)

[quietlyblooms]

GRASP THE DAWN | MY HERO ACADEMIA AU

your quirk isn't well-suited for heroism. you think this long before anyone has the chance to say the words aloud. your skin shifts and changes without your permission, reveals the way your heart clenches and startles. it doesn't matter how well-trained your poker-face is; the hue of your skin always gives you away. you can't hide anything as well as you'd like to.

well, you couldn't. time, training, and stubborn, furious determination did wonders for your quirk and, most of all, your sanity.

you just wanted control over your own body. you weren't thinking of the future, what might become a possibility rather than a naïve child's dream. your quirk wasn't well-suited for heroism. only you still believed this as you entered high school, and it was your homeroom teacher, flabbergasted by the use of your quirk for a practical joke and your adamant protest that you did not belong in the hero course, who eventually made you see reason.

and now you've come full circle, it would seem. u.a. high school looms overhead, and your stomach somersaults. teaching is meant to be a break from the stress of your hero career, give you a chance to help students reach their true potential just as your homeroom teacher did for you. you belatedly accept that maybe all won't go according to plan. more than likely it won't. but that's fine.

you'll meet the challenge with a smile, teeth bared in determined defiance.

QUIRK INFO

similar to octopi, chiyo's skin is made up of special cells that allow her to mimic the colors and textures of her surroundings. it comes as naturally as breathing these days, sometimes to the extent that chiyo may disappear while immersed in thought or a task ( almost like an unconscious effort to remain undisturbed ). this ability is most ideal for covert assignments or partnerships that involve a flashier teammate. chiyo also posses a venomous bite, capable of paralyzing her opponent, though she purposely leaves this detail out of most unofficial profiles and interviews. it's useful to have a hidden card up her sleeve; she also doesn't want anyone asking to see her fangs. that's embarrassing.

ADDITIONAL INFO

chiyo acts as a remedial combat teacher as well as the art teacher for u.a. high school, where she once attended as a teen.

while she may have a following as many heroes do, she's likely to be a lesser known pro hero, especially as chiyo tends to be a private person. she's more likely to be known among her colleagues, i think uvu

don't ask me what her hero gear looks like rn, but pls know that she's almost always wearing that gear at school bc it's built to work with her quirk! she does have some other outfits that were designed the same way, but can you imagine the cost?? oof

it's not as common an occurrence now, but chiyo may change color depending upon her mood! it's more like a tinge of color vs. the bright hues from her childhood, though.

i'm sure i'll add more here as i catch up with the series, but if you have questions in the meantime, just ask <3

[luvdsaturnn]

I’m almost definitely the only person in the vent diagram of jujutsu kaisen manga readers and people who remember this dumb plot point from PZH legion comics but I’m throwing it out there anyway

[aspergerasparagus]

Brainy has not won a game against Jan. Man is a one man killing spree but is just vibing.

Based on an idea that Jan is like this on online games:

[shirehobbit]

CAN U BELIEVE!? turns out the secret to reading more is setting yourself actually obtainable goals for you and being kind to yourself 💛 😊 💛

[iamthepulta]

Closing the 8 chapter tabs of "The interfacial tension/free energy of interaction between water and identical condensed-phase entities, i, immersed in water, w" and hoping I described that shit well enough to get a B.

now I'm going to sleep for /looks at clock/ 2 hours.