#they’re all traumatized and stressed and stupid and silly and I love them all so so much

[ibeewashere]

I genuinely cannot describe how deeply DEVASTATED I am about riz being the only one who can take stress tokens for the others. Yes fig is a protector and will fight endlessly for her friends and I love that about her but there is something about the way riz loves his friends. It’s a more subtle kind of love, but just as relentless and passionate and he will take any burden for the people he cares about and bear the weight of it on his shoulders so they don’t have to deal with it without any hesitation. I am ILL.

[revenant-dumpster-fire]

Flower (Revenant x Reader)

[For AO3 archive, click here.]

Theme: Loneliness and depression are a painful but wicked combination after you have to talk about your past when you don’t want to. No matter how optimistic your friends might be, it doesn’t really fix anything.

Warnings: Graphic content, references to sex, references to past assault, references to noncon, male dominance, threats of violence, descriptions of violence, sharp objects, pain, post-traumatic stress disorder, bipolar, depression, mania, fluff.

Reader's Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is female.

Writing Notes: What the fuck is a plot?

Navigation:

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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You wake up to the sun fully over the skylight window, shining brightly into your eyes. You groan as you realize what time it must be. Closing your eyes only reminds you how thin your eyelids are, as the only color you see is a fleshy red rather than the lovely darkness you wish you could experience. You pull your arm over your eyes and experience the darkness again, if only for a few precious moments.

As you come to, you remember what you did last night and feel a weird sense of concern overcome you. That wasn't a dream, was it? You are lying here without clothes on, after all, and you don't exactly feel clean either. It definitely happened. You panic a little and jolt up in bed, holding the blanket to cover you as you scan the room. You're alone, and there's no sign of where Revenant could be.

You review the events of yesterday to yourself. You remember Revenant taking apart his old chassis and saving some of the parts from it. You remember teasing him until he tied you to a chair using his scarf, although you remember kinda deserving that. You snicker to yourself, remembering how he called you a "bully" to Sherry. Yes, you definitely bullied the giant, metal simulacrum built to kill. You remember Revenant left you pizza that was good enough that a blatant murder couldn't distract people from it, and then you remember chasing it down with too much vodka. You remember Revenant covered in blood at some point after that, then Pathfinder showing up, then falling asleep alone...? That last bit doesn't make much sense, but there was probably a decent reason for all those things happening together. Then you remember waking up in the middle of the night and definitely remember Revenant gently loving on you to the fullest extent.

You've never actually thought you'd be open to sex at all. Especially considering all you've been through, it's amazing you trusted Revenant enough to let him do that to you. You take a deep breath to yourself. It's too easy to be anxious about experiences like this, especially when they tread such a close line to your past traumas. In reality, you don't regret anything, you've just surprised yourself. The main concern now is why would Revenant run off immediately after a night like that?

Maybe you'll feel better after a shower and cleaning stuff up a bit. After all, you've learned that dwelling on discomfort only leads to more confusion and generally a breakdown. That's the last thing you need right now. No need to ruin something that should be a positive experience with an anxiety-riddled spiral into depression. Imagine losing your mind all because Revenant had some errand to run today. That would be silly.

You get out of bed and scurry to the bathroom, finding some used towels hanging to dry. You're not sure if they're the ones you used or the ones he used, but it doesn't really matter. He's made of metals, plastics, silicones, and PVCs. It's not like his towels are going to have anything gross on them. You grab the closest one and quickly change your mind when you notice the red streaks across it. That's blood, and it's not like it could possibly be his. You throw it to the corner of the tile floor to remind yourself to wash it later. The other towel must have been yours, because there's no blood on it and it's considerably drier than the other.

You turn the shower knobs and wait patiently for the water to warm up, taking a moment to brush your teeth while you wait. Ever since he went on a long tangent about shaving, you can't help but eye his razor case when you see it. You wouldn't dare touch it since you know how much it means to him, but you'd like to see it at some point. The steam starts to fog up the mirror, so you quickly finish with your teeth and jump in the shower. You rapidly clean yourself with as much soap as you can manage to lather into your hair and skin.

You nab the clean towel and dry yourself off, spending an excessive amount of time trying to dry your hair as much as possible. You made the right call, a hot shower helps a lot with anxiety. You leave the bathroom and rummage through your bag for the most comfortable pair of shorts and shirt you own. You notice you're a bit shaky and sore from the night before, but it's nothing you can't handle. As soon as you're dressed and your hair is brushed enough to be detangled, you consider yourself put together enough. Nothing wrong with a lax day for laundry and lounging about.

You grab the towels from the bathroom; the sheets, blanket, and pillowcases off the bed; your clothes you found in the corner of the room; a bloody old towel from the kitchenette; and a small pile of your dirty clothing from the past couple days and wrap them together in the comforter, dragging the giant makeshift bag of dirty laundry down the quiet hall into the laundry room. It seems like the trios match was as violent throughout as the ending was--there is not a soul in the hallway, meaning the infirmary must still be quite full. The only Legends you know are back from the match are the winners--Revenant, Wattson, and Wraith--as well as Pathfinder. That makes sense, after all Pathfinder just needs some repairs to be good as new since he's a MRVN, which can be performed hours after any match.

The laundry room has only one dryer running, echoing a mundane hum in the large room with the uncanny beat of the contents turning over repeatedly. You find a few washing machines in the far corner of the room and start separating the delicate items from the colors from the bleach-worthy whites. Thankfully, all the blood-soaked towels were once white, so they get a washing machine all their own along with the sheets. You pull the detergents and bleach out of the cabinet and start over-soaping all the loads, setting the timers to start each machine as they fill with hot water. Steam starts pouring into the room: commercial-quality washing machines are able to use tons of near-boiling water to sanitize anything inside of them. The room's vent fans kick in to try to keep the room's humidity low, but the fans will definitely struggle to keep up.

The door to the laundry room opens and Sherry shuffles in, bags under her eyes and likely hungover from a night of celebrating Wattson's victory. She's too foggy to notice you, so you shuffle over to her.

"Hey, Sherry! Drink too much last night?" You chime, Sherry weakly holding her head.

"Ugh, yes. And that stupid pizza didn't help. It was so perfectly greasy that I couldn't feel how drunk I was getting." She moans, making her way over to the only running dryer.

"So, this is all Revenant's fault then?"

"Absolutely, you and your stupid metal man always conspire to make me worry or drink myself into a stupor because of good pizza." She manages to put just a little sarcastic tone to her voice, but is clearly struggling through her headache. "So, why aren't you hungover? After what I saw yesterday, I was sure you'd bully Revenant into a drinking contest until he tied you to the ceiling vent."

You chuckle, it sounds almost too wild to be accurate, but you've learned that testing Revenant's limits always leads to the unexpected. Sherry continues, a sudden glint showing in her eye.

"So, since you didn't drink to celebrate, then you obviously must have--" 

"Sherry--!" You try to shout over her, knowing exactly where she's going with this.

A devilish look creeps across Sherry's face, almost wiping out her hungover grimace. She dashes away from you and towards the running washing machines, leaving you stunned just long enough that you can never hope to catch her. She throws the lids open of all three, pouring steam into the room and all over her face, but she doesn't wince at all. The hot steam almost seems to invigorate her more.

"Sheets! I fucking knew it!" She laughs maniacally, her face red and moist from shoving her face in the billowing plume of vapor. She slams the lids shut, letting them clang loudly as the agitators begin to whir back to life after being interrupted. "You did it! You finally did it!" She scurries back to you with the energy and erratic movements of a cockroach, finally reaching you to shove her finger against the tip of your nose. Her wicked grin is now in full form, only enhanced by the deep purple hues under her eyes.

"Sherry, it's not that big of a--" You start, trying to be honest but not let her go where she's definitely going.

"Ohohoho, yes it is! This is proof that you can move past your assault! It's huge! It means you're working past your traumas!" Her excitement makes her sound much louder than she actually is. "And it makes me feel so much better about this whole fling you're having, since Revenant was understanding of it all." She twirls away with her arms outstretched, as if to praise some unseen angels.

"Sherry, he doesn't know." You mumble half-heartedly, hoping she might ignore you. She whips her head back in a fury, which must hurt with her hangover.

"You didn't tell him anything?!" Now she's loud. "What were you thinking?! I get that you don't need to tell just anyone, but don't you think you should have told him so he'd know to take it slow?!" She grabs you by your cheeks and pivots your head to meet her eyeline. "What if he did something that caused a breakdown?! He wouldn't have had any clue why, and he wouldn't have been able to help you!"

"Sherry, it's oka--"

"No it isn't! That's not fair to either of you! You can't just let someone go waltzing through a minefield because you're not sure how to tell them that you had some fucked up shit happen to you!" She pulls you into a massive hug, shoving your face into her chest per usual, since it naturally lands there due to your height difference.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to yell at you, but you seriously need to be careful." She softens, sighing as she realizes you're shivering a little. "Look, if you don't know how to tell him, I will do it for you."

"Thanks, but I think I have to do it." You sigh, recognizing she's right. "Honestly though, the only thing I remember is the rag and then waking up in the hospital." You pull away from her, ensuring she can hear you clearly.

"I know you may not think it's a big deal since you can't remember much, but what happened to you is absolutely traumatizing." Sherry wipes away a tear you didn't even feel escape your eyes. "Seriously, if you really like Revenant, you should tell him what you remember and what you know, even if it's hard." Now you feel the emotional hurt, and you hate this. Everything was fine, but now it isn't, and you're struggling to keep your composure.

"I wish I didn't have to. I don't like talking about it. I didn't even do anything wrong, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why do I have to confess it like it's some crime I committed? It's not fair!" Now you start to cry, and Sherry hugs you again, drying your tears with her shirt. She pets your head and hair, trying to comfort you in any way she can.

"Like I said, I'll do it if you need me to." She sighs while holding you tight. You don't intend to pull away until you've calmed yourself anyway. "I guess you don't really have to tell him, but I really think you should..." She trails off, trying to undo any harshness from before. You feel her face bury into your hair as she holds you closer.

You manage to pull yourself together, the despair slowly releasing its hold on you, even if the sense of doom does not. You have no idea how you're going to tell Revenant anything. How do you even start such a conversation? What if he thinks you should have told him before, like Sherry does? Will he feel betrayed? Or will he understand? The knot in your gut stiffens more.

Sherry holds you until you naturally pull away, rubbing your eyes and now looking worse than the hungover woman in front of you. Sherry looks at you with very concerned eyes that betray her wary smile, clearly trying to cheer your spirits despite her honest concerns.

"I'm sure it will be okay. After all, you managed to open up to him already in a way." Sherry sheepishly encourages you, placing her hand on your shoulder. She takes a deep breath, clearly feeling her aches again, but continues to try to bring you back from the brink of despair. "I bet you opened up real nice for him last night, didn't you?" Her teasing is missing its usual edge, but you can't help but appreciate her effort. You chuckle a little at how hard she tries.

"Didn't have to when he can do it for me." You banter back, taking pity on her weakened state.

"Your little rendezvous must have made quite the mess to have to wash the whole bed, huh?" You shouldn't have given her the inch, she fully plans to take a mile.

"Sherry, why must you do this to me?" You ask, rolling your eyes, turning away to help her with her laundry in the dryer. She could use the help, there's no way she feels well.

"Did he pull out? Is that why you needed to wash the whole bed?" She pauses as you actively try to ignore her, pulling her miscellaneous clothing from the dryer and placing it on top of the machine. Sherry doesn't quit. "Wait, if he's mechanical, can he even cu--"

"Sherry! That's gross!" You interrupt her.

"The pursuit of knowledge isn't gross!" Her energy is back now that she's found a foxhole she plans to dig into. "Anyways, you're the one who holds this forbidden knowledge! Now spill it!" She pauses, "Literally, if you must."

"For fuck's sake Sherry, why are you like this?!" You yell at her through a genuine laugh. No matter how gross that statement is, it is also really funny. You feel a little better, but the knot in your stomach remains.

She grabs a shirt out of the clumped up pile and folds it with zero care or grace. It might as well be a glorified knot. She puts it down and grabs for another, not caring at all to fold anything well. You help her fold, but actually do it correctly.

"So? Spill it!" She insists after making a few knotted clothes. You sigh, frustrated but unwilling to fight her.

"Yeah, I guess he had something in him. Probably the same slick stuff those synthetic refills are made of that you can get for prosthetics. Not that I could really tell anyway, it felt like any other liquid would in there." You mumble quietly.

"Heheheheh, gross." She giggles.

You throw the warm pair of pajama pants you're holding square in her face for that one.

• • • •

You're sitting on the bench in the laundry room, a pile of Sherry's properly folded clothes off to the side and Sherry herself snoring against your shoulder. She promised to stay with you while you wait for your laundry to finish, but you're not sure how helpful it is for her to snore in your ear and drool on your shoulder. She didn't manage to stay awake for long after she sat down with you, but this was inevitable with how hungover she is. Sometimes it really is best to sleep it off whenever possible, although you worry about her hydration. You'll wake her up if you really need to move, and then you'll get her a sports drink or something when you do.

At this point you've moved your laundry into a dryer. The commercial grade washing machines are insanely fast, but drying can only work so quickly. You might be here for a bit, whether you like it or not. Properly folding all of Sherry's clothes kept you occupied for a little while, but now all you have left to keep you company are your thoughts and the sounds of Sherry's snores.

You wonder to yourself why you're so worried over talking about your past with Revenant. You've been dismissive of it this whole time, but to be fair he has never pressed you on it either. You've told him you were homeless and used to date one of the other women in the shelter, but you didn't tell him that she eventually found a way out of poverty. You had to break up with her so she could move on. You didn't fully explain that your past relationship was so you could always stick together and watch out for each other. You definitely didn't tell him how you ended up homeless in the first place, and certainly not what happened to you after the breakup. In truth, you don't want to talk about it. You don't like being a victim of circumstance, modern societal failures, and a criminal underbelly that intentionally preys on people like you. Everyone who's unfortunate enough to be born into this cybernetic hellscape has a story or two that could curdle blood, and you're no different. Heck, you're sure Revenant has plenty too.

The fact of the matter is, you're alive and able to tell the tales of your past, which is better than the slew of victims, predators, and petty criminals alike that are missing or buried in shallow graves. It almost feels disrespectful to the slew of dead and abandoned individuals to complain since you've survived and gotten somewhere better. There's no way you can deny that you've won the jackpot by getting to work for the Apex Games, let alone getting hired and getting so close to one of the Legends themselves. Who are you to complain? You know that feeling shame for getting out of your situation isn't how you should feel--after all, everyone should have a right to talk about their past and experiences--but you can't shake the feeling of survivor's guilt that ebbs away at you.

You put your arm around Sherry and rub her opposite shoulder, but she doesn't wake up. She's really the reason you're out of the trenches of modern society at all. She secured you this job which gave you everything you could need, rent free. The tips from the Legends have let you save up money to escape when this opportunity falls through. Even moreso, Sherry didn't drop the offer for the job when you were hospitalized; in fact, she doubled down on making sure you got the position. You have no idea how much harder she had to work to get you here while you recovered for months, and you've always been afraid to ask. You almost don't want to know the debt you owe her, since you'd spend your whole life trying to pay her back. Sherry probably wouldn't want you to do that either; she's just so happy to have someone she can treat like a sister again.

The door to the laundry room opens again, snapping you out of you pondering.

"Skinsuit! There you are! I've been looking for you." Revenant swiftly makes his way over to you. He's holding a plastic bag, clearly with something inside. He towers over you, looking down at you and the drooling sloth latched to your side.

"Oh, sorry, I was just doing laundry." You mumble, caught in his bright, LED eyes.

"Skinsuit." He pauses, likely seeing your blank stare. You take a moment to come out of your adoring trance, shaking your head a little to clear your thoughts.

"Sorry, what's wrong?"

"We need to talk." The knot in your stomach falls deeper and yanks your gut down with it. Those are the worst words in the world, and the catastrophic thoughts in your head immediately start to wind up. Before you can even finish processing your thoughts, Revenant has picked Sherry up and off of you, laying her down on the bench. She doesn't even stir, she just snores louder now that she's lying flat. Revenant grabs your wrist and hoists you to your feet. "Come, now." His voice is so foreboding.

"Wait, the laundry isn't done yet." You pull back, resisting his grasp on you. You don't want to confront whatever he's upset about. It could be anything, and you just don't want to hear whatever words will inevitably hurt you.

Revenant doesn't release your wrist, but he grips it harder, forcing you forward and closer to him.

"I'm not asking." His eyes are terrifying points, the most intense look he can give, and he's staring straight at you. "Come. Now."

He doesn't give you time to even step forward before he starts dragging you. You trip over your feet as you try to regain your balance. He takes you out of the room and down the long hallways.

You panic. What the hell did you do? Does he regret last night? Did you accidentally hurt or insult him? What on earth does he want to talk to you about? Is he going to fire you and treat you like a nobody again? How could you possibly still work here if he cuts ties? You'll be traumatized every time you see him. What the hell did you do?

He drags you into his room. You could throw up you're so stressed. He drags you to the bare mattress and flings you down onto it. You try to fall into a sitting position, but fail and roll onto your back. He's standing over you, the intense look still hardened on his visage. He throws the bag to the side, its contents smacking the side table hard.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" You practically cry, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You hold your hands in front of you instinctively. He's breathing so rapidly, he must be livid. What the hell did you do?

"Skinsuit." His voice isn't angry, his heavy and rapid breathing isn't rage. He's clearly upset, but not enraged at you. He almost sounds sad. "Who tried to kill you?"

You hold your breath, staring at him. Time passes, but you don't know how to answer. Finally, Revenant hunches forward to get closer to you, slipping a claw under your shirt and against your abdomen.

"This isn't a surgical scar. This is a stab wound from a kitchen knife." He sounds calm again, but you're still too locked up to answer him. "I wasn't sure until I saw the other four scars."

His hands glide to another place on your abdomen on the opposite side, then to an area of your lower rib cage, a second under your breast, and one near your clavicle. He brushes each one carefully before pulling you up into a sitting position to meet his eyes.

"What happened?" His face is right in front of you. You didn't realize this is how you were going to have to tell him, let alone that the scars are what he'd latch on to. He sighs, not getting a word out of you yet.

He stands up and sits down next to you on the side of the bed. He's so damn heavy that he creates a pit in the mattress that sucks you towards him. You land against his arm, which wraps around your back and holds you close.

"Don't panic, I just want to know what happened." He states, keeping as monotone as possible. You can sense that he's actually quite upset still, but is likely trying to make sure you don't feel like the target of his ire.

You're still having trouble reigning in all the anxiety, catastrophic thoughts, depressed ideations, and traumatized fear to yourself. If you speak now, nothing is going to make sense and you might start to cry instead. His hold is reassuring, but it's not enough to stop your brain from running on all threads against your will. You feel yourself shaking against his metal frame, trying to come up with an extra bit of bandwidth to talk, but unable to muster any.

You hear him sigh as he notices you struggling. He pulls you further into the gravity sink he's created in the mattress edge and leans into you, intentionally rattling his artificial lung pumps in your ear. He gives you a few minutes to try to gather yourself before he decides to intercede.

He holds your chin and forces you to face him. His LED eyes are bright and much more relaxed than before, and the sight of him calms you down quite a bit. You almost forget what you are even thinking about; only a single, lucid line of thought still runs in your head. Your shuddering stops, and you feel clear enough to speak again. You take a deep breath, and you let yourself speak.

"Right after my ex and I went our separate ways and I met Sherry, I would walk between here and the homeless shelter so I could keep on top of getting this job." You lower your head to look away, so Revenant withdraws his hand from your chin. "I guess some gang was watching me and saw an opening one night. I got grabbed from behind and they put a rag on my face, but when I went to scream I woke up in the ICU instead." You pause. "I don't remember anything, but they told me I had been--"

"You don't have to say it." Revenant interrupts before your voice cracks from the thought. You sigh, grateful for the reprieve.

"I guess they decided to kill me and dump me in a ditch out in the Dust, probably hoping a pack of prowlers would destroy the evidence." Your voice tremolos as you struggle to put together experiences you don't remember. "They nearly succeeded. I almost bled out in the ditch, but a Hammond employee found me on his way home from a late night at the office and got me to a hospital." You feel numb, but your voice betrays you. "They destroyed one of my lungs, managed to slit open my digestive tract in a few places, barely missed both my jugular and subclavian veins at once, and hit me directly in the liver and popped one of my kidneys. I should have died."

You sit there for a moment, gathering your thoughts. Revenant respects the silence and waits for you to continue.

"The Hammond employee who found me donated a bunch of their prototyped synthetic organs to replace mine. One of my lungs, one of my kidneys, and my liver are Hammond prototypes of the ones currently on the market. I also have some of their experimental silicone meshes holding together the digestive tract in the multiple places it was sliced open. I don't think I would have recovered without them."

"How are they holding up?" Revenant asks, carefully pushing his hand against your chest on the side with the artificial lung.

"I haven't noticed any problems, not to say that I know what that would feel like." You place your hand over his, gently touching the Hammond Robotics logo etched into the plate on the back of his hand. It has giant gashes in it, as if he's tried to scratch it off at some point. If this is a new chassis, he must have scratched it out very recently.

"So they used you as a guinea pig for their prototypes?" Revenant growls. "Typical."

"I never thought about it like that. It's not like I could afford synthetics anyway, let alone real ones. It felt like a blessing." You run your fingers over each jagged metal scratch on his metal plates carefully. "I would have died if Hammond hadn't donated them."

"Not to scare you, but be careful with the deals you make with those devils." Revenant's hand pushes harder into your chest.

"I didn't make any deals, I wasn't even asked. They just put them in and sewed me up." You mumble, concerned by his apparent disgust for his own manufacturer.

"Of course they didn't even ask. Silly me." His voice is low and dripping with hatred. You start to pull away from him in fear, but he notices and pulls you back gently. He wraps his arms around you completely and his chin rests on your head. You're not going anywhere at this point. "I'm not angry with you. You're a victim in all this." His voice is softer, but it's a ruse. His lungs are labored with rage and you can feel the tension in his body. You let the silence fall for a moment.

"Revenant, are you okay?" You whimper from under his grasp, unsure of yourself. You feel his fingers turn to points and grip you, but carefully angled not to puncture you.

"I have a lot of work to do." His voice is low and hateful again, his words equally as ominous. His voice jumps back to something softer to address you. "Do you remember anything about the men who chloroformed you? Or when it happened?"

"I'm sorry, it's all really fuzzy." You shake your head a little, in case he can't hear your quiet whisper. He growls, clearly caught up in his thoughts, determined to find a way to narrow down his search. "Does it really matter?" You ask, unsure of what he plans to do.

"Yes, it's important." He huffs for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I'm going to give you the entrails of every punk who violated you as a gift, and I'm going to pry Hammond's claws off of you before it's too late."

"Wait, you don't have to--"

"You used up your pardon, skinsuit. Now, I am the sole judge, jury, and executioner in this case." He sounds so livid, you can't help but shrink under him and hope none of his wrath is aimed in your direction.

The silence falls again, spare for his blood curdling huffs of rage. He slowly calms himself, likely with some kind of plan on what to do.

"Skinsuit, did they kit you when you were at the hospital?"

"Of course, but there's not a universal DNA database of criminals in the Outlands, assuming it was even entered into one at all. As a gang they might have connections. Either way, it didn't amount to anything. Plus, there was a lot of different DNA..." You trail off, shuddering at your own words and trying not to vomit up the pit in your stomach. Revenant grips you tightly in response to your quivering.

"Skinsuit, I need you to listen to me. I will handle this. I don't want you to worry about it anymore." His voice is determined and steadfast.

"I wasn't worried about it before, I just didn't know how I was going to tell you any of this." You manage to get out as you choke back stressful tears. "I was worried you'd be upset that I didn't tell you earlier."

He locks eyes with you from above, but you avert yours. His LEDs are bright enough that you know he's staring at you, trying to gauge your emotional state. Sure, maybe you are upset by the whole ordeal. Maybe it is why you struggle so much with despair. Maybe it is the event that broke you emotionally. But you don't want to dredge it up any more than you have to. It's hard enough telling him this, why does he need to make it into a mission?

"Your heart rate is spiking." You hear him dryly state. You cower deeper into his frame. "Don't be so nervous, like I said, I'll handle it from here."

Something in your head pops and you feel the unmistakable taste and heat of anger overtake you. Mania shows up for a mere few moments, in an attempt to bring righteous indignation to the fray.

"Handle what?! It's not like you can just undo what happened! What's the point? Just pretend like I didn't say anything!" You pull away from him and stand up, but he holds onto your wrist, only allowing you to get arm's length from him. "You can't just assassinate every problem into oblivion! It doesn't work like that!" You're staring down a simulacrum that has single handedly spilt more blood than in all the people you've met in your lifetime, but for this rage induced moment, you don't care. "Heck, if you really want to erase the problem, kill me! Because then nobody has to deal with it! That's what was supposed to happen! But I just had to get lucky at the worst time imaginable!" Your lungs empty out from yelling.

He reels back in shock, releasing your wrist. You have nowhere to go, so you just hover there, staring him down. In this fleeting moment, you have bested the Revenant. You are in charge, but only for a mere moment in time. The anger peters out and sadness overwhelms you in its place. Tears start flowing before you even start to vocalize your pain. The moment has ended. You hurriedly collapse to your knees on the floor and bury your face in your hands, trying to hide yourself as you cry. You hate it when this happens. Immediately after you get angry enough to snap, you regret everything and collapse into a sobbing mess. Every time. You just openly confessed you wish you had died instead. You asked Revenant to kill you instead. On top of it all, now you're crying on the floor like you didn't just say something heinous to him.

You gasp for air between your desperate attempts to suppress your cries, which leak out as sorrowful whimpers instead. You feel his palm on your head, but you can't bear to look up at him. He gives you a moment, possibly hoping you will collect yourself, but he gives up quickly. He kneels down beside you and you hear the clangs of his scarf straps coming loose. You feel his scarf wrap around your face like a hood, absorbing the wayward tears and helping hide your face. He bunches up the extra scarf around your shoulders and loosely ties the buckled straps to hold it to you. He reaches into the hood and holds your hands that are pressed against your face, intentionally fluttering his fingers around yours to wipe away tears. He withdraws, wraps his arms underneath you, and lifts you in his arms. He doesn't even struggle to lift you, remaining completely unwavering.

You feel him carry you out of the room and down the hallway, back towards the laundry room. You pull his scarf completely over your face, trying to calm your cries to be as quiet as possible. Your labored breathing is the only audible indicator of your tears now. You feel his arms push up against the swinging door to the laundry room before feeling the humidity difference wash over you as he enters. You hear the sound of Sherry still snoring on the bench. Revenant carries you towards the back of the room and gently places you on one of the still-warm dryers. You feel him open the front-loading door on the dryer and pull out the load of laundry, doing the same to the second dryer next to you. As the door clicks shut, you hear Sherry stir and wake up, moaning a little in protest.

"Oh, hey, is she okay?" She sleepily addresses Revenant.

"She needs time." A fairly honest dodge, but not really an answer to her question.

"I guess she told you while I was out, huh?" Sherry sighs, yawning afterwards. Revenant stops moving next to you for a moment.

"You knew?" He doesn't sound mad, simply intrigued.

"Of course, I lied and told them I was her biological sister so I could get into the hospital and stay with her." Sherry sounds sad, reflecting on it. "I had no idea she walked alone between here and the shelter. Had I known, I would have called a cab or just done the interviews over the phone..." She trails off, regaining her composure. "After that, I fudged everything to get her this job so she could escape that life."

"Do you remember any details of that night?" Revenant asks with piqued intrigue.

"Of course, I couldn't forget even if I wanted to." You rarely hear Sherry sound so deep in self-shame. You wish she would accept that it wasn't her fault, but you also know that's easier said than done.

"I'll speak to you about it later, then." You jump a little as his hand caresses your arm. You're too withdrawn in his scarf to see anything, so you have no warning when he touches you. Your startled wince doesn't seem to bother him, as he locks his arm around yours, allowing him to continue working with his hands. He must be folding some of the laundry, or at least trying. You can't imagine he's well-versed in the practice.

"You're going to try to find those guys?" Some hope returns to Sherry's voice.

"I will." He doesn't hesitate and he has no doubts. As an assassin he must have some sleuthing skills. He's more than proven himself to be clever, at the least. You still don't want him to bother, though. It doesn't fix what happened, but maybe it could save someone else, at the least.

"Hey! What the hell?" You hear Revenant shout as he withdraws his arm from you and staggers backwards. You pull your face out of the scarf to see Sherry hugging a very confused Revenant.

"Eviscerate them and hang them by their fucking entrails." Sherry mumbles before letting go, and turning to you. "I hope you don't mind, he earned it." She smiles through her exhausted expression, giving you a quick hug too. She pulls away and shuffles to her folded stack of laundry, picking it up and making her way out of the room. Revenant watches her exit with concentrated attention before turning to you.

"Never thought I'd have a second idiot asking me for a favor." He huffs, stepping back over to you. He reaches into the scarf and holds your cheek for a moment, locking eyes with you. "No worries though, you're my first and favorite idiot." His intense determination has melted back down to a teasing vitriol. You let your head tilt into his palm approvingly, letting some wayward tears drip onto him.

He pulls his hand back slowly, intentionally tugging the scarf back to cover your face so you can't see. You're startled when you feel a pile of warm, clean laundry land in your lap.

"Hold this." You hear him instruct as you feel him pick you back up. You wrap your arms around the pile of sheets, clothes, and towels, doing your best to prevent any from falling out of your grip. He carries you, buried in a pile of warm laundry, all the way back to the room before lightly dropping you onto the bare mattress. You let the laundry bury you, enjoying the warmth.

"Why did I even try to fold anything...?" You hear Revenant mumble as he reaches in and pulls you upright, undoing his scarf from you. You let him pull it off of you, but don't bother to watch him put it back on himself. You prefer to bury yourself back in the warm pile of clothing, messing them up further. You hear his buckles lock down on his chassis as he walks away. "I have some leads to follow up on, stay there until I find you a babysitter." The door slams before you can sit up and ask him what he means. He's already gone. He can disappear as quickly as he can appear, climbing walls and collapsing himself into vents and nooks. Even though he used the door this time, it never ceases to scare you a little.

You wish he would just stay around and not leave. Considering how hard it was to even explain what exactly happened to you when you were attacked, you had hoped he would realize being left alone is the worst possible thing. Although, maybe he does realize this, and is getting Sherry to stay with you. Still, you'd rather it be him. It feels like a cop out for him to just leave you with her, but maybe he's also dealing with some emotions too. Unfortunately, you're worried he thinks he can somehow undo everything that happened to you with a bloodbath of vengeance.

You sigh, getting up and looking at the disheveled pile of laundry. You begin to toss your wads of clothing into your duffel bag. No point in folding any of it, it's not like you own anything nice. As you pick through, some appear to be partially folded but his claws had poked some holes in them. Well, at least it's all cheap and replaceable. You toss them into the bag anyway, right now you don't have time to get new ones. You fold the towels and place them in the bathroom, nicely folded and ready to be used again. You take the one odd rag to the kitchenette, finding the drawer full of its siblings and placing it nicely.

Finally, you make the bed. It's an annoying and cumbersome process when you're working alone--the beds here are so big you have to do laps around it to get all the sheets and blanket right. However, you refuse to cut corners, and get it done pretty quickly. The majority of your past few years here have been focused on housekeeping, so you consider yourself quite adept and efficient at it. After throwing on the pillowcases and making a small mound of plush pillows to jump on later, you consider it done.

With nothing left to do, you decide to jump on the pillow mound early, burying yourself in it.

Almost as soon as you get comfortable, the door swings back open.

"Skinsuit! Meet your friend for the day!" Revenant sounds oddly sadistic, but why?

You turn around to meet eyes with a single, red, optical bulb.

"Hello, new friend! I'm Pathfinder, and I am a MRVN!" He waves at you as if you're not a mere few yards away. You actually already know Pathfinder, but he tends to forget who you are regularly. Maybe it's from getting damaged in the Apex Games? Or perhaps it's since he's only ever met you in passing before. After all, there's never been a good reason for him to remember you until now. "Very nice to meet you, Skinsuit!"

Revenant fights back a chortle as Pathfinder gets your name so morbidly wrong. You have no reason to correct him, though, after all you never had parents to give you a real name. You've been trying on different names for decades. 'Skinsuit' just seems to fit this stage of your life, weirdly enough.

"After our misunderstanding yesterday, I decided to make it up to him by introducing you two." Revenant explains to you, his hands gesturing sarcastically. Misunderstanding is one way to put it. "He's going to make sure you don't hurt, maim, kill, or otherwise damage yourself while I'm gone."

"Yes! I don't let friends do any of those things!" Pathfinder pipes up excitedly, probably not even realizing the subtext of what Revenant is implying.

Revenant must be holding on to your self-destructive rant from earlier. That explains why he's keeping some distance. You wish you could take it back, but words don't work like that. You still can't ignore it and let it stand, though.

"Rev, I'm sorry." You blurt out, not caring what Pathfinder might think. Revenant locks eyes with you for a moment, looking slightly less on-edge than before, but still quite tense. His pause doesn't last long, as his manipulative performance must go on for Pathfinder.

"There's nothing to apologize for. " He shrugs with heavy exaggeration, even though he clearly knows what you're referring to. "Just don't be a liability." He turns to Pathfinder, who has been listening intently. "Try to keep her safe, you wouldn't want to get me in trouble if she gets hurt, would you?"

"Absolutely not, brother!" He salutes, seemingly aloof to the tension in the air.

With that, Revenant disappears behind the closing door and is gone again.

Cool, more metal friends you didn't ask for. Well, the first one went well, maybe this won't be so bad.

"You said the right thing." Pathfinder suddenly sounds more serious, even if it still has an unmistakable twinge of optimism. "He seemed upset. I think you made him feel better."

"Wait, you saw through that?" You're dumbfounded, what is with all the perceptive robots in this place?

"He always acts like that for me, but I don't mind. He only does it for me, so we must be like brothers!" Okay, maybe he's not working with a perfectly clear perspective, but still. "And he wouldn't try to get me to watch you if he didn't value you, so I will do this as a favor to him." The screen on his chest emotes a heart-eyed smiling face. "He was very upset when he thought I had figured out his secret, so you must be a very good friend to be a secret friend!"

"Wait, you saw me yesterday?" Is this MRVN a genius and pretending to be unassuming, or somehow a perfectly naïve clairvoyant? He's able to hide his power of perception from Revenant, so he can't be stupid.

"Of course! I have sensors that pick up on heat and vital signs. But you were clearly hiding, so I did not want to ruin your fun."

Fun? Oh, he's so perfectly naïve, or you're falling for a perfectly executed feign. Whichever it is, Pathfinder is a little scary in the exact opposite manner that Revenant is. Revenant may be a homicidal simulacrum with deeply human roots, but his intentions are fairly obvious and any malice he has is clear cut and concise. Pathfinder is much more confusing, clearly more intelligent than he lets on, but so perfectly optimistic that he comes off as non-threatening. Despite that impression, you've seen Pathfinder take down some of the scariest Legends over the years, often with a near-condescending air of playful joy while doing so. When Revenant kills, the bloodlust is sensible, but playfulness? It's somehow scarier.

"Are you okay, friend? You seem nervous. Did I say something bad?" His emote shows a distressed face.

"Sorry, I just get caught up in thought sometimes. What did you want to do for fun?" You figure he won't hurt you, even if you can't completely figure him out.

"Well, what do you and Revenant usually do for fun?" His emote brightens into a smile again as you grimace internally. He's either wholly unaware or viscously teasing you.

"How about we do something else? Let's..." You think, what would be nice to do? You're a bit hard pressed to come up with anything fun.

"We could bring flowers to people in the infirmary!" He pipes up happily. It's not a bad idea, really.

"Sure! I actually wanted to visit the second place Legends, if that's okay. Fuse is so nice and so is Bloodhound. Caustic... probably won't mind." You've never really met Caustic, but you know he has a reputation for being grumpy.

• • • •

You walk out into the hidden atrium behind Pathfinder's room. You knew this was here, but nobody ever comes out here to your knowledge. The doors lock if you're not careful to keep them open, so the risk of being locked outside tends to lead most to avoid the area entirely, even though it connects two wings more efficiently than the hallways.

It's full of flowers of all types, sizes, and colors. The arrangement is chaotic and seemingly random, but the lusciousness of the plants more than makes up for it. The ground flowers are blooming and have various bee species hovering around, seemingly at peace with one another. There are a few small trees reaching around eight or nine feet high and giving a little shade. One has flowers, another has berries, and yet another has some kind of unripe fruit. It's truly breathtaking, and completely undisturbed after years of being left alone by the other Legends.

"You did all this?" You ask aloud, completely in awe of the secret oasis.

"Yes! Do you like it? We can pick some flowers from here!" Pathfinder seems especially happy to be sharing this with someone.

"It's beautiful." You mutter, still captivated by how mythical this little cut of land feels.

"Thank you! I have been meaning to show Revenant, but he will never chase me this far." Pathfinder shuffles over to an area and pulls up Revenant's abandoned bovine skull from the last match with a giant chipped gash in the forehead. He's filled in the bottom and red rose buds have been replanted in the eye holes. A large snail is making its way around the gash with its mossy shell, making for an artistic arrangement. "I am really proud of this one. I felt bad his new suit was destroyed, so I wanted to keep a part of it for him. Once the roses grow, it will look really nice!"

You're impressed. Revenant seems to have some kind of distaste for Pathfinder, and you're beginning to understand why. Pathfinder is scary. He's terrifyingly kind. If your guard isn't up at all times, he will reach a deep part of you and break down your defenses in an instant. When the entirety of the Outlands treats people as disposable assets and teaches everyone to trust as few people as possible, this MRVN will treat anyone like they truly matter, like they are truly cared for, and like they are capable of great things. It's dangerous to believe those things in this universe. That's how you get victimized, abandoned, and let down. Yet, this MRVN manages to hold on to these beliefs about himself and others, and he isn't broken, dead, or an abandoned shell.

Revenant, like you, can't adhere to those beliefs. The universe has spoken, and it says otherwise. Yet, it feels nice to indulge in the feeling of mattering, even if only for a few hours. Is that why he chose Pathfinder? Of course, Pathfinder is the living opposite of a suicidal ideation, after all. Maybe Revenant knew that.

"Stupid, clever jerk." You mumble out loud.

"Me?" Pathfinder has a confused emote as he points to himself.

"Oh, sorry, no, I meant someone else." You pause, switching subjects. "It's really nice of you to reuse his favorite chassis like this. I think it's really pretty, even if he never sees it."

"Thank you, friend!" His happy emote is back, and he waves you over to another area. "Have you seen this chassis? It's my favorite!"

You walk over and follow him to see a rounded red, purple, and white chestplate that has been cracked and shattered, but loosely put back together. It has the word "Thunder" and the number "81" written on it, as well as a unique mask attached to it. This mask doesn't look like any skull you've seen before, human or otherwise, but still has a bony texture. It appears to have hooks near the chin, perhaps where it was attached to the exoskeleton, as well as unusual leather bags under the eyes. It looks perpetually tired and angry, but you definitely can't say you've seen him wear this before. The chestplate is closed over an old wood stump and beautiful mushrooms have sprung to life in the darkness and reached beyond the chassis to meet the light. His mask has a particularly colorful fungus growing on it, happily latching onto the porous material more easily than the chestplate. It's gorgeous, but you wish you could see this chassis on him too.

"No, I've never seen this one before... I haven't seen him wear it in the games either. What is it?" You ask, curious why he would have such an odd chassis in his repertoire.

"He uses it when we spar! I don't think he uses it much otherwise."

"You two spar?" You're surprised. Maybe Revenant also finds excuses to dabble in the feeling of mattering sometimes.

"Yes! Not too often, I think he gets frustrated that I am an excellent boxer. I have tried to let him win, but he doesn't like that." Your eyes widen. Pathfinder can outclass Revenant in a sparring match? This guy really is scary. "You should come sometime!"

You look back at the busted chassis. Was Revenant knocked out of this one with a blow from Pathfinder? You knew all MRVN are particularly sturdy and powerful, but you never really felt it until now. You're a helpless ragdoll full of easily exploitable and fatal flaws to Revenant, but you never even considered that perspective when around Pathfinder. Now you do.

"You can really beat Revenant?" You mumble aloud, not intending it as a real question.

"When we only use our fists, yes! I don't think I could beat him if he was allowed to use his stabbing hands. He is getting better though!" He doesn't acknowledge your apparent fear, simply giving a chipper answer. "Whiplash to the neck is a weak point in his design. He is learning that he can't let me land an uppercut. You should come watch sometime! I bet he would fight harder with you there!"

The thought of Pathfinder knocking out Revenant with an uppercut is unbelievable to you. You almost want to know if it's really possible.

"I will, if you're both okay with it." You look up at Pathfinder, who immediately makes a happy clapping motion.

"Yes! I look forward to it!"

"Do you have any more insider information on his other suits?" You ask, curious how many he has seen.

"He's told me about some, but I haven't seen them yet. Only some special colored versions of his normal one." He looks upwards as if to think, the emote on his screen changing to match. You've seen some of the other colors in past games, but never in person. You hope he has a lot of different suits, especially since they tend to alter his personality a little. You wonder what his sparring suit does to him.

"We are here to visit Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic!" Pathfinder chirps, flashing his ID badge. You place yours on the counter as well, as the receptionist scans them both. You know the receptionist, Carol's been here a long time, and she's used to seeing volunteers come through to visit the Legends.

"Let's pick some flowers for the others, then maybe we can talk some more." You want to make sure you get to see the second place team, knowing the extent of their injuries is well beyond simple gunshots wounds. Revenant had run Caustic and Fuse through completely, and probably broke many of Bloodhound's bones. You're a little worried for all of them.

• • • •

You and Pathfinder approach the receptionist in the infirmary wing, holding three unique bunches of flowers. You couldn't find vases, so they're propped up in glass soda bottles filled with water. It may be a cheap alternative to a proper vase, but the flower quality makes up for it.

She starts to laugh after scanning your badge.

"Little Skinsuit? Is that what you're going by now?" She prods. "Also, I didn't know Revenant liked anyone enough to have a direct hire. I guess all that dedication to the grump-machine paid off, huh? Congrats!" She's very nice, and doesn't pry further than that.

"I'm not going to tell Revenant what not to call me, that would be asking for trouble. But thank you! It only took four seasons and figuring out his favorite liquor." You take your ID back.

"Ha! Leave it to you to make your way up in the world through the craziest means possible. Revenant still scares the heck out of me. Today was the first time I've ever seen him visit anyone, though. Maybe he's softening up." She spins a little in her chair thinking about it. "Anyway, tell Sherry I said 'hi' when you see her next!"

"Will do! Thanks Carol!" You chime back, walking past the desk with your arms full of bouquets, Pathfinder following behind. Why would Revenant have come by here earlier? That's very odd.

As you turn the corner, you see the names of the currently admitted Legends on each of the doorways. There are not many left, it seems like most were discharged this afternoon. Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic are all still here though.

Caustic's room is the closest, but you'd rather wait to deal with him last. You haven't met him, and those who have aren't usually treated well apparently. He almost has as bad of a reputation as Revenant, but Sherry has always been able to interact with him reasonably. She told you it had something to do with being close to Wattson, but that doesn't make much sense to you.

"Let's see Fuse first." You say, carefully making your way to Fuse's door. You knock lightly before you hear his booming voice welcome you.

"Door's unlocked, mate!" He barely sounds injured. As you open the door, you see Fuse grinning widely and sitting upright in bed. He's in a hospital gown, chest exposed to reveal a massive but sewed up and sealed wound. "Oy, you brought me flowers! How kind of ya." He's absolutely beaming for someone with a massive hole in his chest.

"Sorry we came so late in the afternoon, I just wanted to visit and make sure you were okay." You fumble over your words, not sure how else to admit you were worried about him and the others. Let alone that it's partially an apology for Revenant absolutely skewering him.

"Not a problem, I see you brought a different metal fellow with ya t'day." He motions to a table beside him, where you place the flowers.

"Good to see you again Fuse, I am glad to see you are recovering well." Pathfinder chirps, forever positive.

"So, sheila, how is the angry feller?" Right, he knows about you and Revenant.

"He's, uh, under some stress, but nothing he can't handle, I'm sure." You're not sure how else to answer. Saying he's fine is too obvious of a lie, but you don't want to be too specific either.

"Really? Who knew? The red rage actually has problems like the rest of us." He chuckles. Normally you wouldn't think much of his statement, but Fuse is the type to try to get anyone to warm up to him, Revenant being no exception. Perhaps you've said too much.

"Yes! Which is why I'm taking care of his secret friend for him! She's not allowed to be a liability!" Pathfinder gently pats your shoulder. Why did he have to say that? Fuse catches sight of your dejected look and laughs harder, gripping his chest to steady the pain. Pathfinder takes his laughter as some kind of endorsement, while you hang your head in embarrassment. Fuse catches his breath finally.

"No worries sheila, I won't tell a soul. You may have to keep that a bit more under wraps though, Pathy." Fuse says through labored breaths. That laugh must have hurt. Pathfinder cocks his head in confusion. "I think the point of having a 'secret friend' is to keep them a secret, not to tell everyone!"

"Oh no! I'm sorry!" Pathfinder realizes his mistake, a blue sad face appearing on his screen.

"It's okay, Pathfinder, Fuse actually already knew." You pat him on the arm in reassurance.

"Yeah, no worries mate. Just be a little more careful." His smile erases any embarrassment you feel. "Well, I'll let ya make your other rounds, I'm gonna turn in for the night." Fuse waves goodbye to you both as you excuse yourselves.

You make your way across the hall to the room labelled for Bloodhound. You lightly knock, and a nurse opens the door carefully for you. You slip in quietly and see Bloodhound lying on their back, their head facing your direction. You see their eyes dart in your direction, no longer buried under their usual goggles. Their head is well-wrapped in gauze, and their breathing mask is replaced with a hospital oxygen mask. You can finally see their eyes, which are filled with a softness you don't usually see.

Artur is on a large perch in the corner of the room, surprisingly. Bloodhound likely had to fight to get Artur into the infirmary at some point, since the perch almost looks to be a permanent installment now. Artur coos, watching the room carefully.

"Ah, the apprentice and Pathfinder." They address you both, but don't sit up. They likely aren't able to in this state.

You look to the nurse and offer her the flowers, not sure if you can approach Bloodhound at all. She takes the vase and puts it on a table a short ways from them, but well within their eyesight. Bloodhound seems enamored by the flowers, but also confused by their presence for a few moments.

"Ah, right, flowers are a common gift to the injured." They say to themself before turning to you both. "Your well wishes are accepted graciously. May the Allfather bless you in return."

You bow instinctively, not wanting to speak too loudly in the quiet room. Pathfinder notices and attempts to do the same, but starts to lose his balance and barely recovers. Once you right yourself, you break the silence for a mere moment.

"Get well soon, Bloodhound. Please don't..." You trail off, not sure where you were going. Die? Unlikely. Hurt? They're already hurt. Hate Revenant? They're not the type. "... don't be a stranger." You recover a little, but you're sure you're coming off awkwardly.

Bloodhound smiles with their eyes, and you feel much better, quietly slipping back out the door. Pathfinder follows, waiting for the door to close before speaking.

"I kept the secret!" He pumps his fists a little. You chuckle.

"By not talking at all. I guess it works." You pat him on the arm again. "One left, but I don't know anything about Caustic. I hope he's not as bad as they say."

Pathfinder takes the last bouquet from you and leads the way this time, apparently willing to handle the interaction himself. He knocks on the door and opens it, revealing a growling Caustic on the other side, sitting upright in bed and writing in a notebook. His usual mask is switched for an oxygen mask, and he's in a hospital garb that is far too large for him.

"Greetings, doctor! I brought you flowers!" Pathfinder chirps happily, ignoring Caustic's scowl.

"I don't want flowers. I already had to answer the simulacrum's idiotic questions, why are you bothering me now?" Caustic asks angrily, averting his attention back to his notebook.

"I intentionally got you chamomile flowers, they're Wattson's favorite for tea!" Pathfinder chirps, holding the white and yellow-centered flowers up. Caustic suddenly looks up from his notebook with a softer expression, before sighing and relenting.

"Fine, put them down on the table." His voice and expression have softened, but you're not sure why. Pathfinder must know something you don't.

As Pathfinder moves to put the flowers on his table, you lose your body to hide behind. Caustic notices you, and suddenly smiles a little wickedly.

"Ah, the simulacrum's personal lapdog reveals herself." He sneers. How did he know about you? Did Revenant say something? "You have quite the science project at your beck and call. How did a little thing like you manage that?"

You're not sure how to answer, and you know your discomfort is visible on your face. Pathfinder seems to notice as well.

"You seem to be a kindred spirit, flirting with death. Makes you feel more alive, doesn't it?" He coughs a little, interrupting his train of thought. His voice returns in a much more serious tone. "I'm afraid I can't do anything more for either of you, but I'll keep you in mind if I need to get under the simulacrum's skin."

Pathfinder doesn't speak, but starts walking towards the door, gently herding you in that direction. You leave, unsure of what else to say after that. The door gently closes behind you both.

"Are you okay, friend?" Pathfinder asks.

Now late in the evening, you finally make it back to Revenant's room, bidding Pathfinder goodbye before opening the door. You're holding a single flower you picked out for Revenant, despite Pathfinder's insistence that Revenant doesn't like or accept flowers. He's tested it thoroughly, or so he claims. You're certain this one is different, though. You picked this one for him, and you picked it for a reason. As you slip through the door, Revenant stands up from the computer desk to meet you.

"Yeah, just disturbed, I guess. Let's go, it's getting late. Let me grab dinner and let's go back to your garden." You answer, not sure what Caustic meant. You'd rather spend the rest of the evening chatting about Revenant's different chassis with Pathfinder than dwelling on Caustic's cryptic words.

• • • •

"You must have had fun. You've been gone all day." He notices the flower. "Pathfinder managed to pawn one of his flowers off on you?" He scoffs, rolling his optics.

"Actually, I picked this one for you." You correct him, unsurprised by his initial rejection. He seems to tense at the realization it's a gift from you, not Pathfinder, and that he has already judged it so openly. "It's a datura flower, I thought it was fitting."

"Datura? Like the drug?" He asks, trying to ignore his previous judgement on the flower.

"Yeah, it's called the Devil's Trumpet. It's poisonous if ingested, and causes psychedelic delusions. It's legendary for giving some of the most hellish waking nightmares. Isn't that something you've said about yourself? A nightmare flower for the nightmare Apex Predator!" You finish your short speech, and he carefully takes the flower from you, staring silently at its alluring but deceptive beauty for a few moments in silence.

"Thank you." He finally says, carefully placing the makeshift vase and flower down on the computer desk. "I wanted to talk to you about something while we're at it."

"Is this about what I said earlier? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I wasn't thinking, and--"

"You wanted to die. It's okay. I understand that feeling." He takes your hand and sits you down on the bed as he takes the office chair opposite to you. "I don't want you to die, even though I am certain I will live to see the day anyway." He pauses, gathering the words he wants to say. "If you really find you cannot handle living any longer, I want you to die painlessly in my arms."

You sit there, unable to fully process what he means, or perhaps you're refusing to process it. It's hard to swallow, if your suspicion is right. He lets the pause hang before finally specifying.

"If you truly must die, I want to be the one to take your life." His head hangs, and he refuses to make further eye contact. "It will be painless, you won't be alone, and I can hold you one last time." His pain is apparent.

As soon as the words register in your head, you throw yourself to the floor and kneel under his hunched over body, trying to meet his gaze. He is unmistakably despaired, so you stand into him, hugging him as you do.

"I'm so sorry Revenant, I promise it won't come to that." You're pleading with him to trust you, but you're not sure how to convince him. "I love you, I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. I won't let it come to that."

You're pretty sure you sound desperate, but you're not sure how he'll interpret that. You are desperate to get him back from wherever his mind is. He stays limp in your arms for a few moments--long enough to concern you. His optics are still on, so he's not rebooting. He's just pondering, and somehow that's more worrying than anything.

Finally, Revenant hugs you back, standing up and lifting you off the ground. He brings you to the bed, carefully lying down in it and dragging you into an enveloping hold. He holds you tightly, but with an intensity you haven't felt before. He doesn't speak, just holds you, refusing to let go.

You lay there, unable to move and unwilling to abandon him for what feels like hours, until your consciousness starts to fade. You drift off quickly, unable to deny your exhaustion any further.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Let's Call It Funny

Prompt: Hi! If you know about those gen z peter parker posts, could your write something based on that? With Steve Getting It (tm) because fatalistic nihilism in humor tended to show up during the world wars and we’re seeing a reflection of that now? Sorry- I just think it’d make great options for steve and peter bonding, and dad!tony but actual emotions (gasp!) You can totally ignore this if you want!

Don't ever apologize for giving me such a great ask

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: uhhh gen z humor

Pairings: none! all found family in this bitch

Word Count: 2529

Here’s the thing about humor. It’s not necessarily that one generation is any funnier than another, it’s just that high school kids are perpetually the funniest people alive. Something about being in a pressure cooker of an environment with a bunch of other people whose bodies are changing in new unpredictable ways whilst having very little say in how their lives go creates humor. Gasp of shock, right?

So basically what Peter’s trying to say is that he’s fucking hilarious.

Come on, not only does he have the default high schooler stuff, he’s also gay, which gives him an instant bonus. He’s trans, which opens up a whole new subset of humor for him to explore. He’s neurodivergent as fuck, and we all know that makes people funny as hell. And if that weren’t enough, he’s severely traumatized and he’s Spider-Man.

Peter Parker is funny as hell.

What is truly devastating—and really, it’s their loss—is that so few people seem to appreciate it.

Ned gets it. Ned’s not someone Peter would expect to not get it, just because hey, it’s Ned. They’ve met each other in the hallways and been like ‘hey! You’re still alive! Congrats on having a body!’ Only for the other one to go ‘hey! You’re alive too! I wish I had an intangible form!’

Because bodies are stupid and evolution really fucked us over but at least we’re not horses.

A solid 50% of their interactions are just quoting John Mulaney and Bo Burnham bits back and forth at each other. Peter’s never gonna forget the day they both had detention and had to watch that stupid Cap PSA—it’s propaganda, you Nazi fuckwits—and something reminded them of the ‘horse loose in a hospital’ bit and they just did it. Full out. Stood up and did the actions and everything. The rest of the room was either trying to do it with them—and failing, because they didn’t have nearly enough practice—or looking so confused. The security guard—Paul, he’s great—just looked at them blearily after they finished and went:

“I mean, you kids are right, but you’re not supposed to talk in detention.”

Well, excuse them for trying to make it more entertaining for everyone.

MJ gets it. If Peter’s being honest, he learned most of his humor from her. She is the master and it is an honor to study in her wake. He’s definitely hijacked the asking whether or not anything’s actually meaningful existentialism jokes and they’ve wormed their way into his day-to-day repertoire.

“Why are you late, Mr. Parker?”

“Time is a social construct, Mrs. B, none of us are ever late or early except in the subjective spacetime paths. The limits of our sensory perception make it so we can’t tell if anything is real, let alone whether or not they conform to some arbitrary definition of ‘time.’”

“…just sit down, Peter.”

See? It works.

Aunt May gets…worried.

Sure, they’ve actually talked about when Peter needs help and wants to reach out and when he’s just making jokes off the cuff because hey, humor’s a great coping mechanism or it’s just a joke and not that serious. Peter loves his Aunt May, so so so much, and the last thing he wants to do is really worry her. And she’s gotten pretty good at figuring out when he’s just joking and when he’s spiraling.

Sometimes, though…

“Peter,” Aunt May calls from the kitchen, “did you remember to stop by the store on your way home?”

Peter freezes halfway through the door.

“Peter?”

He swallows. “…no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am too stressed and consumed by the swirling pit of blackness deep in my soul to remember my head is connected to my body, let alone remember to go to the store.”

Silence.

“…Aunt May?”

“Do you want to drop off your stuff and then go to the store?”

“…yeah, please.”

“Love you, Pete.”

“Love you!”

“Try to remember that you’ve got arms so you can pick stuff up.”

“Got it!”

See? It’s fine.

The Avengers don’t get it. Like, at all.

Natasha and Clint like, sorta get it? They make the same jokes all the time when they think Peter can’t hear them, which—come on, you guys are super spies, surely you know people are gonna hear you when they’re gonna hear you. Natasha will make a crack about something, Clint will laugh and shove her shoulder. It’s their dynamic, we get it. But when Peter does it…

“Hey, Baby Spider?”

Peter sticks his head up from the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“Where’re you crawling off to?”

“I’m gonna go hide in the garage.”

Natasha blinks up at him. “Why?”

“Because if I get crushed by the airlock doors then I won’t have to do my paper tomorrow.”

Silence. Natasha’s mask is too good for Peter to actually see what’s going on with her, let alone from this angle, but silence isn’t good.

“Nat—oof!”

Something blurs out of the vent nearby and tackles him down onto the couch.

“Clint!”

“Nope,” Clint mutters, wrapping Peter up in a hug as Natasha comes to join them. “You’re staying with us now, Pete.”

“Guys, I’m fine.”

“Peter,” Natasha says softly, “don’t joke about that, you’ll make us worry.”

“I don’t wanna do that,” Peter mumbles, “but it’s fine.”

“Coping mechanism, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s got too many brain cells to do that,” Clint says, ruffling Peter’s hair.

“Stark has a lot of brain cells, you see what good that does him?”

“Hmm. Guess you’re gonna have to stay awhile, Pete.”

There are worse fates. Definitely.

Thor just kind of gets confused by it. He acts like Peter isn’t going to be absolutely fine because there’s no need to do anything like that. No, Peter, you don’t have to put the bleach in first into your cereal, there’s plenty of milk left over. No, Peter, you don’t have to throw yourself off the roof because your laptop is freezing, Stark has so many just lying around. No, Peter, you don’t have to pack a rucksack and run away to the Alps and live like a recluse, come here and get a hug.

Peter suspects Thor’s playing dumb on purpose. The man is smart as hell, there’s no way all of this is flying over his head. And honestly, it warms his heart a little bit when he sees Thor’s sincere, concerned look when he thinks Peter’s not looking.

Banner and Rhodey just kinda shake their heads and move on. They’re used to it. They live and work with some of the most dramatic fucking people in the goddamn universe, they’re used to a little bit of extra humor. Occasionally one of them will give him a look that says he’s pushing his luck, but that’s not often. Less often now ‘cause he knows what he can get away with. He’s also seen them hiding smiles behind their hands or poorly disguised coughs. They’re not as slick as they think they are.

Tony.

Tony is the fucking worst.

Peter can’t get away with so much as sighing too hard before Iron Dad™ is swooping in all soft words and concerned touches. Jesus. You’d think he’d get it, he uses humor as a coping mechanism too, goddamnit, why is he so worried about Peter?

Okay, fine, he knows why.

MJ’s over at the Tower, having another one of her ‘sketch people in crisis’ appointments with Natasha. Peter is coming off of a 32-hour caffeine rush and is violently wishing for death. Tony is in the kitchen doing…something.

“Hey, do you think bleach would make a good smoothie?”

Tony wheels around to see MJ pulling a glass out of the cupboard.

“Kid—“

“Sounds like a filling breakfast,” Peter groans, “can you make me one too?”

“…I’m legitimately concerned,” comes Tony’s mutter.

MJ ignores him. “Who’s the bitch on your forehead?”

Peter rubs absentmindedly at the massive knot on his head, courtesy of a wall that rudely decided to move at the last second while Peter was attempting to walk through a doorway. “He’s called DJ Braindeath and he’s my only friend in the world.”

“Peter—“

“Oh did you meet him at the furry convention?"

“Technically it’d be a buggie convention.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

“The pantry doesn’t have good coffee, I’m going to Starbucks.” MJ grabs her bag. “You want anything?”

“A will to live?”

“Peter, what the fuck—“

“Oof, I’ve only got like…20 bucks.”

Peter lets his head drop back to the counter. “Then just leave me here to die.”

“Can I have champagne at your funeral?”

“I’ll be dead, I won’t fucking care.”

“God, I wish that were me.”

Then MJ’s gone and Peter gets treated to a 20-minute conversation with a very concerned Tony Stark that he doesn’t remember most of because hey caffeine crashes aren’t fun.

He definitely does it on purpose sometimes just to wind Tony up. Like there’s this one incident with an interview he does as Spider-Man and he gets asked what he thinks about Tony Stark’s newest intern, Peter Parker.

“That boy’s an embarrassment, just…complete failure. Can’t speak without stuttering through every other word and self-esteem issues all over the place. Also looks like he got dressed in the dark.”

The reporter had awkwardly moved on to another question. The interview aired later that day while Peter was at the Tower. Tony sat next to him on the couch about halfway through.

“You look good, Pete.”

Peter had mumbled halfheartedly, only to hear the reporter ask the same question.

“See, that’s the problem with having a secret identity, you don’t…” Tony trailed off as he heard the answer.

Peter snorted as Spider-Man finished talking. “Say that to my face, you bitch, get a real job. At least I don’t look like someone vomited silly string all over my spandex.”

“Are you okay?”

See? Fun.

The only one he’s made a conscious effort to not be this funny around is Steve.

Because, okay, here’s the thing. Steve’s disappointed look has no effect on him anymore. He’s immune, motherfuckers, he’s had detention too many times for it to still work. Here’s the other thing: Steve doesn’t actually use that tone of voice that often. It’s this meticulously crafted image he plays up in interviews because it catches all the bad guys so off guard when Captain America is suddenly swearing a blue streak at them and telling them to go fuck themselves in, honestly, quite creative ways. The sincere Steve Rogers disappointment and concern still very much works. Also doesn’t help that Steve does caring so fucking well, like…who gave him the right to say a few things and hold Peter like he’s something precious and do the quick one-two punch of saying a super sincere compliment and following it up with ‘I love you.’ Who did that? It’s rude. Stop it.

And yeah, Steve’s the resident Mom at the Ready. It’s a risk to even sit on your bed looking sad ‘cause here he comes, wearing something snuggly and saying ‘hey’ in that stupid, stupid compassionate voice. So Peter knows he’s just gonna end up crying from too much soft if Steve actually gets concerned. Which won’t be fair because he’s gonna try and explain that he’s fine and it’s just his sense of humor while crying. Yeah, like that’s gonna be believable.

So he’s trying not to but damnit it’s hard.

Then he walks into the kitchen one day to see Steve struggling with the toaster.

It’s one of Tony’s new prototypes—which means that anyone struggling with it is so fair—and from the looks of it, it’s managed to not only burn the bread to a crisp, but also mangle the slices beyond recognizable shape.

Peter’s not paying that much attention. He’s on his phone, heading towards his spot in the corner with the beanbag chairs and definitely doesn’t recognize Steve as he goes.

He only plops down and hears someone declare, in a completely deadpan voice: “There is no point to existing at all.”

“Oh, mood.”

He doesn’t think much of it. He doesn’t even know who said that, that’s how hyper-focused he is right now. He hears the others come in and feels Clint plonk down next to him.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Sah, dude.”

“Just vibing. Did I do it right?”

“Yeah, man you’re going great.”

“You teach Thor ‘yeet’ yet?”

“We’re getting there.”

“Steve,” he hears Tony call from the kitchen, “what the fuck did you do?”

“Language.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me about language when you’re making toast that looks like a goddamn welder’s table, what is that?”

“Your prototype’s work, I imagine.”

“How did you even—“

Clint chuckles next to him as the two of them start fondly bickering. Peter’s too busy speedrunning the five stages of grief in his head.

Did…did Steve say the thing about there being no point to existence at all?

No…no way.

He must be imagining things.

Then, of course, there’s a chime on his phone.

Ned: Did u do the bio hw?

There was bio homework?

Ned: yeah, due at noon

“I now know why God abandoned this timeline and when will death come to take me?”

The room goes silent.

Shit.

“Peter,” Clint says, “it’s gonna be fine, you can do bio homework in your sleep—“

“Are you okay?” Ah, that’s Thor.

“Kid—“

And Nat, and Tony’s probably rushing over here as he speaks.

Then there’s another voice.

“We can only pray the reaper arrives early for his appointment with us, kid.”

Peter’s head snaps up.

Steve.

Steve fucking Rogers raises a coffee cup at him in salute and takes a sip. He makes a face.

“…that was definitely salt,” he mutters, before shrugging and downing the whole thing.

…what?

Peter’s still staring at him until he catches his gaze and winks.

Oh, fuck yes.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony says, hands on his hips, “explain.”

Steve just gives him a look. “I grew up in the Great Depression, Tony, and I was in the army. You don’t think I have a fatalistic sense of humor?”

“Plus the fact that most of my generation is resorting to types of humor found when death and stress are so ever-present that you have to joke about it says something,” Peter adds, “doesn’t it?”

Steve raises his cup again. “See? He gets it.”

And just like that, the bond between Peter Parker and Steve Rogers was written, formed, and sealed in salt and existentialist depression.

“There’s two of you,” Tony mumbles, “oh my god, there’s two of you.”

“Oh, you just wait ’til Buck and Sam get back.”

Peter can’t fucking wait.

[mydisasteracademia]

SFW Alphabet: Shouta Aizawa

Ah, the grumpy caterpillar. I love this man so much.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s a lot like a cat. Generally doesn’t care for public displays of affection, but when he goes to you he likes to do little things like hold your hand or wrap his arm around your waist. He’s quiet with his affection.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Honestly? Not that much different from the usual, aside from him being a little bit more friendly. He’s incredibly private with most matters of his life, but if he’s a good friend at least he’ll go out drinking with you sometimes. Your friendship likely started away from his work, given that he doesn’t like to mix his working and personal lives together.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

If the two of you are alone, he loves cuddling. Sitting on the couch? In bed? He’s curled up to your side, head in your lap as he dozes off. If he’s sitting and reading or going through papers, he might pull you in to sit in his lap and rest his chin on your shoulder as he works.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

This man. This poor man. He utterly sucks at cooking. Can’t make dinner to save his life. Once burnt a grilled cheese sandwich so bad both sides of the bread were black. Still ate it because, well, food. He’s a little better at cleaning, if he could get enough energy to commit to the task. I don’t picture him as the type to settle down. He’s got too much trauma and far too many trust issues to fully commit. That, and he’s a Pro Hero. There is no way in hell he would ever expose his crush/significant other to the stresses that come with being married to a hero.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d probably sit you down and say it flat-out. “I want to break up.” His face is blank, but he’s sad on the inside -- he really liked you and he doesn’t want to end it, but he has to for your own safety. He doesn’t blame you if you hate him after this; it’ll just make it easier to protect you.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Fucking terrified of getting married, and not because he’s a forever bachelor. He was already nervous about getting into a relationship due to his job; he would never be able to live with himself if you got targeted because someone figured out who he was and wanted to get back at him. He would definitely drag it out until you finally demand answers as to why he’s hesitant to take your relationship to the next level.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Shouta is a relatively blunt individual, but he can have his tender moments. These usually happen when you’re alone together and he doesn’t have to keep up appearances. He can get fairly clingy when cuddling up to you and you can see the affection in his eyes and when he speaks to you. But when you’re in public again? The only way you see it is in his eyes and the way his hand lingers near yours.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Doesn’t like hugs when in public. He prefers people keep their distance, but if his students are having a rough day he’s not gonna shove them off if they need a hug. With you, however, he prefers to save any and all outward displays of affection for when you’re alone and he can really unwind. When you’re alone, he loves hugging you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

You’d probably end up saying it first. He’s really nervous about dropping the L-word in the beginning because he’s paranoid. He’s very protective of his friends, and as long as he considers you a friend, he’s gonna be scared of finally admitting his feelings to you. Might end up saying it to you when he’s totally smashed, and is regretful and avoidant the next morning until you finally corner him about it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Doesn’t really get jealous easily unless your relationship has progressed quite a bit. He doesn’t mind if Hizashi or Nemuri get really close and affectionate with you because he knows they wouldn’t purposefully try to get a rise out of him like that, and Tensei is respectful and friendly from a distance. He definitely doesn’t get jealous of his students hogging your attention whenever you meet them, because they’re still just kids and he knows you wouldn’t do something stupid. When it comes to other people, however, he can get irritated easily the more friendly they are with you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses can be deep and purposeful when you’re alone. He kisses you to make a statement - “I love you”. Sometimes they can be quick but no less meaningful. Just something to get him through the day until he can relax in the evening.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Doesn’t really care. He can handle children well enough, but he doesn’t prefer them. He cares about Eri, but he’s been her guardian for a while and she has her ways of winning over even the most hardened of adults. Generally can handle kids easier than teenagers because he considers them troublesome and unpredictable.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Despite how it might seem, he’s really regimented in the morning and can even get up before you do. He takes his job very seriously and is always awake and sipping some coffee at the same time each morning. Of course he’s going to nap during the day, but that’s during off-time when he doesn’t need to be teaching. (Or when the kids have study time.)

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He spends the daytime finishing work so that he can come home and relax with you. During the early evening he likes to eat dinner with you and relax on the couch afterwards, head in your lap as you talk about your day. As the night winds down, if he’s not already napping with you on the couch he’s heading to bed with you, curled up with you in a deep sleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s really private about himself, and it takes a lot to get him to open up. Usually it’s a couple of things at a time while you’re friends; a story from his time at Yuuei, some silly stories about his friends, maybe something ridiculous that his students did the other day. When he gets really depressed (and you’re far enough into the relationship that he trusts you enough), he might talk of his dead loved ones - Oboro, maybe a previous student that he couldn’t save from a traumatic event, his fears for his current batch.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

To his credit, he has a lot more patience than most would think. He brushes off insults about himself, easy peasy. But even he has his tipping points, and it’s usually when someone insults his friends or students too many times. Especially when they start insinuating that one of his students would be better suited as a villain.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He can be forgetful about little details sometimes, but he remembers the most important things about you. He makes it a point to remember every anniversary and birthday and will sometimes give you little presents he knows you like.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite memory of you is when you stood up and protected his students during a villain attack. You were out on a shopping trip (really, why can’t they go anywhere without something happening?) and some random villain cornered a group of students and threatened them. You wasted no time in getting between them and the villain and keeping him away from them until he could be subdued.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He can be incredibly protective of you. Due to his job, both as a Pro and as a teacher, not a day goes by that he doesn’t worry about you being caught up in an attack, especially by the League. He would drop everything to aid you if you were attacked (especially considering you aren’t a hero). Although he doesn’t go looking for it, he greatly appreciates it when you’ve got his back too.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He does do his best to split things with you, but sometimes he’s too overworked and he has to shift some responsibility onto you. He hates doing this and tries to do his fair share so that you don’t get frustrated. He does his best to do things for anniversaries and dates, but his schedule is packed and unstable, and he sometimes has to apologize and reschedule. If he knows he can’t make something, he does leave you a present and a written apology.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He can be standoffish and curt, especially in public. He has an image he wants to uphold, and he doesn’t appreciate attempts to undermine that. He can be fairly lazy when he wants to be and naps quite a bit.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not that concerned. As long as he doesn’t look like he just rolled out of bed five seconds ago, he’s good. He does make attempts to clean up nicely when it comes to press conferences, as rare as they are.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

To be blunt, not really. He appreciates your company, but if you broke it off, he would be able to move on.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I have this serious headcanon that Hizashi bought Eri a matching sleeping bag because she wanted to be like Shouta, and his heart promptly melted. The two take naps together during some afternoons and it’s the cutest thing in the world.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Anything villainous or dangerous. He wants to make sure his friends, colleagues, and students are save above all else, and if he suspects that you’re either a turncoat or a dangerous person? He’s going to call you on it. He doesn’t appreciate judgmental people, either. Say one comment about his kids and he’s already looking at you a little more cautiously.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Horrible sleep schedule. Considering his full-time job being a teacher now (as well as the occasional mission undercover), he doesn’t get nearly as much sleep as he should. He staves it off somewhat with coffee, but it’s an extremely common sight to see him get into his sleeping bag and just doze.

[taizi]

Congrats on finishing your paper! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧ Could I request Prompto-centric stuff? If you're up for AU thoughts, I recently had an idea flash of Versus13!Prompto (from early trailers) and canon!Prom being brothers/twins and got very excited - it'd be lovely to read your take on that! Your writing is such a rich, heartwarming experience. I'm ace & a Found Family lover too so it just resonates with me so much. Thank you!

x

Prompto shows up to the Crow’s Nest looking hunted. Gladio is already sliding over to make room for him on his side of the booth, and Prompto crashes into the waiting seat without ceremony. He shoulders off a ratty backpack, letting it fall to the floor at his feet, which would imply that he literally just got back.

“Hey, guys,” Prompto says without inflection.

“Oof,” Noct says. He leans forward across the table on his elbows, and gives Prompto’s hair a friendly ruffle. “Missed you too, loser.”

It’s an understatement. Noctis and Prompto have been comfortably attached at the hip since they were fifteen, and this past week was probably the longest they’d ever spent apart. Gladio’s had to listen to the crown prince whine for the last five days, and if it wasn’t his actual job to make sure Noctis didn’t get his ass kicked, Gladio would have kicked his ass. 

Prompto makes a face and waves Noct’s hand away, but already his demeanor is thawing. “Of course I missed you. We only Facetimed like every five seconds. Sorry, it was a long drive.”

Gladio scrutinizes him on the low, taking in what Ignis probably already has. He’s wrinkled and red-eyed and jittery, something tight in the lines of his body that speaks of frustration.

“I take it you didn’t enjoy your trip?” Ignis asks. He pushes Gladio’s basket of fries under Prompto’s nose, more or less a command to eat something. 

Prompto picks up a fry and worries it apart in his fingers.

“‘Course I didn’t. Driving all the way to Duscae in a gross car with a sleazy reporter to get your idiot brother out of jail isn’t exactly a vacation. I can’t believe I had to miss Iris’ birthday.”

“Hey, don’t let your head go there,” Gladio tells him firmly. “She told you it was fine, and she loved that stupid Moogle jacket you got her.”

“There’s, like, a whole fleet of not-gross cars at the Citadel that you could have borrowed,” Noct says for the nth time. “You have the same clearance level as Ignis, and Ignis can do whatever he wants.”

“Uh, I think that’s just ‘cause he’s Ignis.”

“Either way, I would have been happy to arrange alternate transportation,” says Ignis calmly. “Threatening Mr. Ghiranze with what I would do to him if he made you uncomfortable in any way wasn’t nearly as reassuring.”

Prompto chokes on a bite of Noct’s salmon and Gladio thumps him on the back until he gets it down.

“You what?” he finally manages. “Oh, no wonder he was so weird! He wouldn’t even look at me. Iggy, you’re the best.”

He’s breathless, and bright with the beginning of laughter, and Gladio thinks, Nice one, Specs.

It felt weird to be three instead of four, even only for a week. He won’t come out and say it, but Gladio is relieved to have Blondie back where he belongs. 

He’ll be with Gladio heading up Basic Training for the next two months, and Gladio is more than looking forward to it. The new recruits are a bunch of pains in the ass, and they deserve to have Cor the Immortal’s ‘Quicksilver’ protege whip them into terrified appreciation for Gladio’s less manic approach. 

The bell above the door rings merrily, and a familiar someone shouts, “Hey, birdbrain!” 

The hard-won good cheer drains out of Prompto’s face like water from a leaky faucet. He doesn’t have time to turn around before Peregrine is upon him, pouncing like a hungry coeurl upon an injured anak.

“You left before I could say thanks,” Peregrine says with vicious glee, grabbing Prompto in a probably-affectionate headlock. His barcode is stark and bold under the fluorescent lights of the diner, hidden in plain sight by a geometric half-sleeve tattoo. “Sick of your big bro, is that it?”

“For sure,” Prompto wheezes, trying to peel him off. “Definitely, one-hundred percent.” 

To this day, Gladio isn’t sure what to make of Peregrine. He showed up in Insomnia a few weeks after Prompto’s televised swearing-in ceremony, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a shock-rifle strapped to his shoulder. Given what they are, they’re physically identical, but Prompto’s friends have never had any trouble telling them apart. 

“Whatever.” Peregrine lets Prompto go with a toothy grin. He’s causing a whole scene in the quiet diner, but he’s been a Hunter all his life and very little seems to phase him. “You gonna be home tonight?”

“If I say no, are you going to get arrested again?” Prompto asks his brother suspiciously. 

“I’ll probably have my hands full with Dino, since one of your boyfriends here traumatized mine. He needs a little TLC, if you know what I–” 

“Nope!” Prompto says loudly. “Bye, Pere!“ 

Peregrine laughs, and it manages to be more affectionate than antagonistic. This time, when he leans down to hug Prompto, it actually looks like a hug instead of a cheerful mugging. 

“Thanks for coming for me, birdie,” Peregrine says, cheek propped on Prompto’s messy hair. It’s one of those unexpected moments of sincerity that occasionally pops up between the two of them like a buoy. “I know it sucked.” 

“It did suck,” Prompto mutters. But he’s leaning into his brother’s arms instead of away, and the harassed, stressed out lines of his body are relenting. “But I was actually glad you called me.”

Peregrine’s hands go tight in Prompto’s jacket for a second. Sometimes, he looks as though he’d like to grab onto Prompto and never let him go. 

The two of them spent so much of their lives alone– one in an empty house, and one in the wild countryside– and they both managed to find their own people, build their own homes. They don’t know how to be family, but they’re figuring it out. They want to figure it out. They’re learning their way around each other. 

Peregrine ruins the mood by squeezing Prompto so tight he squeaks. 

“I’ll quote you on that next time,” he chirps, and leans over to swipe Gladio’s basket of fries, and takes off as abruptly as he arrived in the first place. “See you, Prom! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“No!” Prompto yells after him, leaning out of the booth. “No ‘next time’!”

“Text me, byeeeeeee!”

“Could you imagine being stuck in a car with him for six hours?” Noct says, with what looks like a new appreciation for Prompto’s plight.

Prompto whirls to face him, vindicated. “It was the worst!” 

Ignis soothes him with promises of green curry soup for dinner– a handy excuse for what he already had planned, the chickatrice thigh and coconut milk sitting in Noctis’ apartment for Prompto’s return– and Gladio drops a heavy arm around Prompto’s shoulders to try to absorb some of his nervous energy. 

Prom’s phone chimes while Noctis is getting the check, flashing Peregrine’s silly contact I.D. Gladio isn’t nosy enough to read over Prompto’s shoulder, but he watches the expressions parade across his friend’s freckled face. Surprise, good humor, the automatic joy of an inside joke. 

As Prompto types out a reply, he’s grinning– the lighter, brighter half of a new dynamic duo– and Gladio thinks it’s a good look on him. 

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

The Zombie Trio~! 

A trio of misfit teenagers and best friends who are tired of all the bullshit in their lives and taking a stand for themselves together. They’re fierce, sassy and powerful, but also silly and love to have a good time, especially with one another and the rest of their classmates in the Hero Course. 

(From Left to Right): Ashlen Kyanse (OC), Amy Martinez (OC) and Hitoshi Shinsou (Canon)

Note: This is all fiction and part of a fanfiction that my girl @ashleigh-luvs-14cats and I collab on~!  And I felt like making TV Tropes for our group that we made in the fanfics with Shinsou~! :3 

Adorkable: The three of them are pretty quirky and dorky in ways that make them quite endearing, especially when they start singing and dancing together or taking goofy pictures and playing games with each other.

Affectionate Nickname: They give each other a LOT of cutesy nicknames.

Amy has ‘Ames’ (by both Shinsou and Ashlen), Witchy (by Ashlen) and Dummy (by Shinsou)

Ashlen has ‘Ash’ (by both Amy and Shinsou), Love (by Shinsou) and Honey (by Amy)

Shinsou has ‘Toshi’ (by both Amy and Ashlen), Tosh (by Amy) and My Heart (by Ashlen)

All of The Other Reindeer: All three of them have experienced rejection and bullying from their peers simply for being different from other people.

Amy was mocked for supposedly being ‘quirkless’ and then later when she discovers that she’s a witch, the pro-heroes felt too intimidated to care for her so they abandoned her and left her in the care of other witches. But even in America after the coven was outed to the world she was bullied by other witches for her quirky personality.

Ashlen had no friends in her school upon being moved to America and taken in by a rich family, because her peers thought she was snobby or dangerous to be around once some of her peers pretended to be her friend and discovered her second quirk.

Shinsou’s only real friend was Amy while other kids picked on him or made him a scapegoat because they called his quirk ‘villainous’ and he was ignored by his peers, who also called him a ‘future villain’ and as a result he had no other friends except for Amy.

Ambiguous Disorder: All three of them have some variety of undiagnosed mental health issues that shows up from time to time but it’s never confirmed.

Iida believes that Amy has some sort of Bipolar Disorder or Borderline Personality Disorder due to her mood swings, lashing out, risky behaviors, unstable relationships and extreme fear of abandonment. However, Amy’s inability to control her emotions and relationship difficulties and triggers that come from either certain events or certain people also highly resemble Complex Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. Although Amy also shows many signs of Depression as well since she’s had moments of self-loathing, suicidal thoughts and detaches herself from loved ones when her intrusive thoughts haunt her.

Ashlen, similarly, has several moments of anxiety, self-loathing, depression, panic attacks and overwhelming emotional reactions especially when she is triggered by her painful memories to the point where she needs her dog The Colonel for emotional support and takes medication to regulate her troubled emotions. Implying that she may have some sort of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder or Depression, as she, like Amy, suffers from self-hatred and also has a poor self-image that adds to her own intrusive thoughts.

Likewise, Shinsou is prone to panic attacks, night terrors and anxiety when he’s overwhelmed, has poor sleeping patterns  (that may indicate some form of insomnia), poor coping mechanisms (eating and over-indulgence) and moments of self-loathing, intrusive and troubling thoughts, and anxiety imply that like Amy and Ashlen, he may have some type of Depression.  

Anti-Hero Team: All three of them count, while Amy and Shinsou are straight examples of anti-heroes by being selfish and/or rude troublemakers who look out mainly for themselves but still have the goal of being heroes and do occasionally do the right thing. Ashlen is more of a Classical Anti-Hero as her insecurities are the only thing holding her back rather than a compromised morality.

Badass Crew: They’re all capable of fighting villains on their own, but together they’re quite a force to be reckoned with as their classmates each dread the idea of taking on all three of them together as a crew due to Amy’s magic, Ashlen cancel quirk and Shinsou’s brainwashing.

Beauty, Brains and Brawn: Sweet and bright Ashlen is the Beauty, sarcastic and gloomy Shinsou is the Brains while impulsive and magical Amy is the Brawn.

Beware The Silly Ones: They love to joke around with others, especially people they think are stupid, but are NOT to be underestimated.

Amy embodies this trope, as she certainly looks like a harmless and ditsy girl but she’s an extremely powerful witch who can hex, jinx and curse people, and is very easily provoked.

Shinsou doesn’t look like a silly guy, but he’s pretty deadpan, witty and can easily join in Amy’s wackiness from time to time (esp. when Panic! At The Disco is involved), but he’s still a proficient fighter and knows how to brainwash people just like that especially when angry.

Ashlen is the least silly of the three as well as the nicest, but she does have a sense of humor and can joke around just as much as Amy and Shinsou, however angering her  is a very, very bad idea since she’s very good with swords and WILL paralyze your ass if you piss her off.

Birds of A Feather/Not So Different: Two introverts and an introverted extrovert, while they seem pretty opposite at first glance, the three of them actually have a LOT in common with each other.

Amy and Shinsou relate to feeling discriminated and hated by others for having ‘villainous’ powers, and they’re both equally witty and mischievous and have been friends since childhood because of this. And Amy and Ashlen are probably more different than her and Shinsou, but Ashlen has a similar sense of humor and tastes in movies, cartoons and music, as well as feelings of loneliness and isolation that enables the girls to bond. And then Ashlen and Shinsou can bond over having very practical quirks, while she’s a nicer person than he is, he gets along with her great because they’re both introverts, insecure by nature and then they also discover that they’re both pretty smart-alecky and learn to appreciate each other to the point where they start dating. 

The Caretaker: They each can act as this towards one another. Ashlen is the prime example as she often plays mother hen to both Amy and Shinsou by making sure they’re both healthy and feeling secure. Shinsou also acted as one to Amy before Ashlen by making sure the witch was feeling okay and recovering from an incident. But he can also easily take care of Ashlen, especially when she is suffering from a panic attack or is in need of comfort. And while Amy is usually being cared for by either Shinsou or Ashlen, she can still play the role just as well by checking up on either one, whether it’s consoling Shinsou when he’s upset, or spending time with Ashlen and comforting her when she’s sad or overwhelmed.

Color-Coded Characters: They each have their own different colors schemes, Amy (Pink), Ashlen (Blue) and Shinsou (Purple).

Comic Trio: Downplayed due to Shinsou and Ashlen being far more level-headed than Amy.

Amy is usually the schemer who comes up with the crazy ideas, Shinsou isn’t a Fool by any means but nonetheless tends to follow Amy’s lead because he thinks it’ll be hilarious, while Ashlen plays the Only Sane Man and attempts (but usually fails) at reigning the two of them in.

Dance Battler: They’re all quite proficient in dancing.

Amy is the only one who hasn’t had any professional training in dancing, but she learns how to be quite good at it by watching videos and is good at physical comedy and making funny faces to make her dancing very entertaining and impossible to not watch. Although she does later get lessons so she can dance with Bakugo. 

Ashlen is the only one of three to be considered a dancer as she has had professional training and is highly skilled in ballet, waltzing, salsa and other forms of dance, is very flexible and can also perform some very impressive flips, pirouettes and spins that make her a marvel to watch and she also can utilize some dance moves in combat.

Shinsou had to take dance lessons for a school play during the second Culture Festival, as he had no real training in dancing and merely danced along with Amy but also learned watching some videos, especially ones with Yanis Marshall and gradually became a skilled dancer.

Dark and Troubled Past: They all carry some emotional baggage from their pasts, which actually enables them to bond because they all agree that they’re each ‘pretty fucked up’.

Amy was discriminated against because she was believed to be quirkless as her powers didn’t start manifesting until she was 9 years old. When she found out her witch heritage, hunters emerged from the shadows and killed her parents by burning her mother and lynching her father, while the pro-heroes saved her from getting killed they gave her away to Fiona to live at the coven in New Orleans, which forced Amy to leave Shinsou. The coven was small but very dysfunctional under Fiona’s neglectful care and undermining Cordelia as Amy tried and failed to have her sisters get along. And then Amy witnessed several murders, bloodshed and betrayal that traumatized her into the hardened but unstable girl she is today and she still has anger and abandonment issues.

Ashlen had a normal and happy life complete with an ordinary but useful quirk, but All For One arrived one fateful night and murdered her parents right before her eyes and then implanted her second quirk in her which was extremely painful and nearly killed her. Although the Sennen family adopted her, she was ostracized by her peers  at school who either thought she was a monster due to her second quirk or believed her to be snobby and entitled due to her family namesake. Then what friends she did made turned out to be fake who only used her in an attempt to make themselves look better. As a result, Ashlen grew up reserved, distrusting of others and fearful of herself due to her unstable powers and still suffers from self-esteem issues and a guilt complex.

Shinsou came from a normal family, but because of his brainwashing quirk he also faced some discrimination as his peers and even some teachers deemed it a ‘villainous quirk’ which diminished his self-esteem especially when students either bullied him or when his classmates deliberately ignored him and pretended he didn’t exist. While he had Amy to make it better, her leaving made him feel more alone than before. Without his only friend, he became much colder and more distant, which made him an easier target. In middle school, he acted out times by brainwashing two bullies into beating each other up, while he mellowed out in the 9th grade, he became much more cynical and aloof, having no desire to make friends until Amy returned in his life.

Dysfunction Junction: Despite getting along really well, they’re not immune to bickering, especially Amy and Shinsou, with Ashlen having to play the peacekeeper and break them up. And then Shinsou often acts as Amy’s enabler and lets her do anything she wants (much to Ashlen’s disapproval), particularly when the witch is in a bad mood with Ashlen uncertain of how to approach her and vice-versa, Amy can easily enable Shinsou when he’s in a bad mood. At times the three end up walking on eggshells around each other when things get tense. Which is ultimately why Amy says they’re more like family than a mere friendship because they actually deal with important things beyond school.

Exhausted Eyebags: All three of them sport them from time to time. Shinsou’s are almost always prominent, but Amy and Ashlen’s eyebags show when they’re overwhelmed or anxious. Although Amy’s are also more prominent when she’s angry or in a foul mood. In fact, this trait is also partially why they called themselves ‘The Zombie Trio’.

Fighter, Mage, Thief: Ashlen is the (Fighter) due to her swordsmanship, expert combat skills and speed she utilizes for her Cancel quirk and she’s the one who’s mostly on the straight and narrow. Amy is the (Mage) as she’s a witch with several powers and can use 6 of the 7 wonders that she uses any chance needed. And Shinsou is the (Thief), having to rely on being manipulative and sneaky for his Brainwashing quirk to work and allow him to trick and deceive opponents.

Fruedian Trio:

Amy is the emotional, reckless and borderline psychotic Id

Ashlen is the calm, collected and grounded Ego

Shinsou is the logical, deadpan and pragmatic Superego

Gasshole: They sometimes casually engage in burping contests between each other, especially Amy and Shinsou, joined by Kaminari and Kirishima, with Amy and Shinsou being quite proficient in the ‘art of burping’. But to their surprise, Ashlen herself can belt out some fairly impressive, unladylike belches when she loosens up and plays around with them.

Amy: YAY! Ash! You’re as nasty as we are!

Good Is Not Soft: Amy and Shinsou are trouble-makers but also training to be heroes and Ashlen is the nicest of the three, but neither three of them are pushovers and have no issue roughing up villains or playing dirty if needed.

Good Parents: They each have some pretty decent and upright parental figures in their lives.

While Amy had an Abusive Parent in Fiona, Cordelia is Amy’s godmother  who loves her unconditionally although she is prone to spoiling her too. But she never stops looking out for her and is very supportive of her. Amy’s biological mother and father were very loving towards her and comforted her in their final moments.

Shinsou’s mother and father support and love him and always express pride in their son for getting himself in the Hero Course. They’re also Good Parents to Amy, despite her not being their biological child.

Ashlen’s biological mother and father were great parents who adored their daughter, and Ashlen’s parental figures that include her sisters and adoptive father also love her dearly and look out for her.

Heartbreak and Ice Cream: Their go-to whenever one of them is extremely depressed and upset, as Amy shamelessly drinks soda and binge-eats cookies, chocolate, candy and ice cream when she’s sad, and then she has no issue sharing her sweets with Ashlen and Shinsou. Ashlen, a sweet tooth herself sometimes may have a soda and some sweets when she’s sad, and even Shinsou has no shame in eating cookies and ice cream when he’s upset or heartbroken.

In-Series Nickname: Bakugo has nicknames for each of them, calling Amy ‘Witch Bitch’, Shinsou ‘Eyebags’ and Ashlen ‘Princess’.

Likewise, Madison tends to call Amy ‘Hermione’, Shinsou ‘Purplehead’ and Ashlen ‘Ellen Ripley’.

Interclass Friendship: A variation as each of them come from a unique background that doesn’t at all affect their friendship.

Amy, while she used to come from a normal upper middle-class family with a mother who was both a witch and a hero, she later had to move with the coven, an independent group of socialites and politically active witches who descended from Salem. Whom are also warriors who act as allies for hero society and Amy being something of an upper-class socialite and witch warrior.

Ashlen also came from a pretty normal upper-middle class family, but she was taken in by the Sennen family. A royal family  that dates back to the ancient times of the pharaohs and is connected with Magic and spirit energy lead by two powerful women and Ashlen’s adoptive sisters and royal-like figures. Making Ashlen a princess of sorts, but she’s still  a fighter from a high class family.

Shinsou is the only one who comes from a relatively normal family with his parents having modest occupations and his father being a doctor rather than a hero, so his family makes good enough money for Shinsou to be considered upper middle class but unlike Amy and Ashlen, his family has no connections.

Kiddie Kid: In a way, all three of them oscillate between endearing acting-their-age childishness and adult-like maturity. Although it’s Played Straight with Amy, Downplayed with Shinsou and Ashlen.

Amy’s pretty impulsive and immature, even enjoying things that would probably be more suited for pre-teens (toys, cute things, etc.) and still likes playing childish games like Hide and Seek and Tag You’re It.

Shinsou, despite being more mature than Amy, laughs at some of her childish jokes, isn’t above playing along with her games (especially Tag) and can sometimes be just as immature (if not more so) as Amy. 

Ashlen is actually the most mature of the three, but she can also loosen up enough to play around and fun with Amy and she enjoys the same cute things and toys that Amy likes.

Lame Comeback: Amy, Ashlen and Shinsou are usually pretty witty but when they’re too angry they usually make some lame remarks when they’re too upset to think of anything good.  

Like An Old Married Couple: At times the three resemble a family, with Ashlen being ‘The Mommy’ of the group, Shinsou being ‘The Daddy’ and Amy being ‘the Child’. Shinsou often enables Amy’s antics, but knows how to dish out Toguh Love when needed, and Ashlen, although nurturing and loving, encourages Shinsou to not be so lenient on Amy, their hyperactive, mischievous best friend. It’s even more prominent when Shinsou and Ashlen are discussing and/or arguing about Amy’s behavior as if they were parents talking about their child and even dote on her at times. Likewise, Amy at times can cling to either Ashlen or Shinsou if they were a mom and dad, and also going to Shinsou when she wants something from him, and Ashlen when in need for emotional support. 

Like Brother and Sister: Amy and Shinsou are very much like brother and sister, and Amy considers Ashlen like a sister to her and all three of them function together like a family.

Living Emotional Crutch: All three of them function as this to each other in some way.

Amy says that Shinsou’s the only reason she came back to Japan and doesn’t know what she’d do without him as she suffers an emotional breakdown at the thought of not having him in her life because he was her first ally from the very beginning and best friend from the start. However, because she cares about him so much she nearly cuts off ties with him again just to protect him from her. And as she befriends Ashlen, she admits to feeling closer to her than anyone she’s ever met, feels comfortable around her but also greatly fears her leaving her the most which is why she had another mental breakdown at the thought and went back to her mansion for a time, and then she confesses that she probably would have gone on another homicidal rage if not for Ashlen’s influence.

Shinsou feels closest to Amy overall since she was his very first friend the best friend he’s ever had, and when she left to New Orleans, he took it badly and broke down hard, becoming more distant from others. And he nearly breaks down when Amy lied by saying she didn’t want to be his friend anymore after she went on a rampage at UA. He also at times clings to Amy because he knows that no matter what, she’ll always support him. Also, as Ashlen enters the picture, because she’s the first person to ever show him any true, intimate love he feels especially close to her, adores her and takes any argument they have hard and admits that while she’s his first and only girlfriend, that he couldn’t love another woman the way he loves her, because she’s the only one who can make him feel loved and secure. 

Upon meeting Amy, Ashlen loves her very much and sees her as her very best friend and a true friend, even nurtures her because she grew to love her so much. Even as Amy starts to show her true colors and deeper psychological issues, Ashlen’s love doesn’t fade, but she does fear the thought of losing Amy more than anything, and at one point pleaded with her not to leave her alone without a best friend. Finally, when she finds love in Shinsou, she feels safe, warm and loved by him, and not unlike him, takes their arguments extremely hard, even taking all the blame because she fears losing him just as much due to her unconditional love for him. 

Nice, Mean and In-between: Ashlen (Nice), Shinsou(Mean) and Amy (In-between). However Shinsou and Amy can switch the roles where Amy is acting as the crueler one and Shinsou can be more laid-back and decent, but Ashlen is almost always the Nice on.

Odd Friendship: These three make up a pretty odd but nonetheless very close friendship.

First you have Amy and Shinsou, a chaotic girl with energy for days and a low-key, apathetic guy who doesn’t care about much things, but they’re best friends and have been since childhood.

Then Amy meets Ashlen, a sweet but shy girl who became very close and best friends with the much more outgoing and obnoxious Amy.

Then there’s Ashlen and Shinsou, she’s much more of a sunshiny optimist while Shinsou’s more of a cynical pessimist.

Positive Friend Influence: When they’re not being bad influences or doing mischievous pranks, each make each other happier and better people overall.

For Amy, Shinsou reminds her of her humanity and all other better memories before the coven. Shinsou also can at times be able to reign her in when she’s upset, and enables her to think before she acts. And then Ashlen’s influence is what allows Amy to be much more reasonable and gentler, as her friendship helps Amy learn more lessons in being kinder to people and to forgive the people she felt hurt by.

For Ashlen, having an outgoing and supportive friend like Amy made her much more confident in herself, allowing her to be more assertive, proud of who she is, and she also learns to see her own beauty and even gains a newfound wild side. Likewise, Shinsou encourages her to loosen up a little bit and his endless attraction and devotion to her also adds to her confidence and boosts her self-image.

For Shinsou, Amy’s fun-loving and cheerful personality makes him laugh and allows him to have fun and get a little bit goofy as he humors her and can join in on her antics without letting life overwhelm him. And then having Ashlen as his friend and girlfriend makes him want to be more compassionate and he also learns to be less envious of others, more secure in himself and she also helps him boost his own self-image as well. 

Power Trio: Together they’re a ridiculously powerful group of fighters who are even stronger together.

Ragtag Bunch of Misfits: They’re a group of friends made up of a witch, a trained fighter and a world-weary cynic trying to become heroes. Together the trio consists of.

A loud-mouthed, hyperactive Cute Witch who grew up in an infamous coven of powerful witches. Who happens to have a wide array of powers and is a little bit unstable to boot.

A skilled but troubled Warrior Princess with two quirks, one being highly unstable and dangerous. But she still has a strong sense of justice even if people haven’t been kind to her.

A curt and surly Deadpan Snarker with the power of Mind Manipulation and a less than approachable demeanor. However, he still wants to do the right thing, even if he is a bit of a Troll too.

Red Baron:

Amy: “The Coven Heroine: Tricky Witch”

Ashlen: “The Neutralizer”

Shinsou: “Mindjack”

Red Oni Blue Oni: Amy is the Red Oni to both Ashlen and Shinsou’s Blue Oni, although Ashlen can also be the Red Oni to Shinsou’s Blue Oni.

Serious Business: Four Words: Panic! At The Disco. Amy and Shinsou take Brendon Urie very seriously and take any ill remark against him as blasphemy and they manage to get Ashlen on the bandwagon.

Socially Awkward Hero: They’re all pretty socially awkward in their own ways.

Amy is overwhelmingly cheerful and over-the-top for most people, vulgar in speech, has no sense of personal space (as she constantly touches and hugs other people randomly) and usually unintentionally makes people uncomfortable by talking about inappropriate things that really shouldn’t be discussed in public, but she is generally friendly and does mean well.

Ashlen has the best social skills out of the three, but is still pretty shy, awkward by nature, prone to social anxiety, and gets nervous around people she doesn’t know, and is also easily flustered around boys she likes.

Shinsou is aloof, rude and snarky, and doesn’t go out of his way to befriend anyone except Amy, but is also pretty awkward when someone is being genuinely nice to him, and then he gets extremely nervous and flustered around Ashlen, to the point where he resembles Midoriya when he speaks to her.

Superpowered Evil Side: All three of them have superpowered sides or experienced power highs that enabled them to go berserk, lose control of their powers and even made them turn homicidal, even towards allies.

Amy’s Sentio Compassios can turn into Sentio Furia when greatly provoked. Already legitimately insane, she easily gets drunk on her magic and loves toying with her opponents, and when she’s that angry she freely lets go of all control during a rampage to unleash her power and destroy almost everything and anybody in her path, friend or foe.

Ashlen’s second quirk Dark Manifest is what makes her go berserk, even though she’s level-headed by nature. she has issues controlling her second quirk as when she’s pushed to the brink, it causes Dark Manifest to overwhelm her right mind and turns her into a bloodthirsty murderer and makes her lose her morality and kill whoever provoked her and anyone else who she feels like purely for fun.

Shinsou developed an alter-ego that Amy calls ‘Control Freak’. He wanted to get stronger and took up a training session with Amy’s friend Nan, and she and Madison give him a potion to amplify his brainwashing to make it more like Concilium. However, as his quirk’s power was amplified, the potion cost him his sanity and he lost himself momentarily and attacked even his friends and forced them to fight each other because the power high gave him an overwhelming sense of control over everyone regardless of who got seriously hurt..

Sweet Tooth: Amy is the most obvious one with a sweet tooth, but Ashlen also very much enjoys sweets and while Shinsou says he doesn’t love sweets, he’ll still eat them, especially when upset.

Token Trio:  Amy (witch), Ashlen (two quirks) and Shinsou (single quirk)

Toxic Friend Influence: Downplayed, at least with Ashlen. Amy and Shinsou are toxic friend influences to each other to begin with and bring out each other’s bitchy side, but they can also sometimes be able to encourage Ashlen to indulge in wild and crazy antics such as drinking Amy’s infamous Magic Juice at a party or pulling hilarious pranks on other classmates.

!Tres Amigos!: Duh.

True Companions: They all came together recently, with Amy and Shinsou being Childhood Friends and later meeting Ashlen, but the three of them are very close, tight-knit, love each other’s company, comfort each other when upset and always support each other and have each other’s back no matter what.

Two Girls And A Guy: Amy and Ashlen are both girls with Shinsou as the sole guy of the trio.

Underestimating Badassery: Since Amy and Shinsou often bicker or make crude jokes with Ashlen having to look after them like a babysitter, people often take them at face value... until all three of them start beating the living hell out of villains and showing just how powerful they are.

Weirdness Magnet: They’ve all been exposed and/or attracted to some of the craziest supernatural things that are weird even by hero society standards.

Amy, being a witch, gets exposed to all types of weird and magical happenings with witches, vampires, demons, ghosts, a minotaur, voodoo queens and the Anti-Christ so she claims ‘nothing shocks her’.

Ashlen’s family actually overlooks several different supernatural things that include ghosts and demons, and so Ashlen is no stranger to the supernatural and is unsurprised by stranger things.

And because Shinsou’s close to Amy and Madison, he knows many things about witches and has become less and less fazed when something strange happens.

With a Friend and a Stranger: The whole set-up of the dynamic with Amy and Shinsou being childhood friends and Ashlen being Amy’s new friend who instantly gets along with Shinsou, and later, becomes his girlfriend. Unlike many examples though, these three are NOT a love-triangle, but DO involve one or two different love triangles OUTSIDE of the the trio.

You Wouldn’t Like Me When I’m Angry: Angering either three of them equals big trouble.

Amy is very easy to provoke and she’s The Dreaded in her class for a reason as she will start screaming, destroying things and fly into a rage if angered. And should you push a major button, it was nice knowing you.

Ashlen is actually quite slow to anger, but when she’s angry she gives a fierce glare and ALWAYS delivers righteous punishment to the one who angers her. And this is scary even when her second quirk isn’t awoken yet...

Shinsou is usually pretty levelheaded but when he gets upset, he gets upset, becoming both irrational and aggressive as he will attack the person who pissed him off, and play dirty as well just to let them feel pain.

[herelaymythoughts]

Preface

Artemis: It’s ok to care a lot. To care too much. I think it’s really sweet that you care so deeply about everyone in your life. I don’t find it silly at all. I don’t think you’re a stupid girl. I don’t think you’re weak and I don’t think you should change this about yourself. Make a million playlists for a million different heartbreaks because at the end of your life, wouldn’t you rather have those memories to hold on to? Remember them? Know that you allowed yourself to feel such depth? The Fowl: Janus tells me that I’m looking for love in the wrong places, and I feel like I’m wasting my emotions, time, energy, and grief. Artemis: So what? So what if you are? Even if it comes from a misguided place those feelings and emotions are still real. If you’re looking for the Osaka Castle in Kyoto you won’t find what you’re looking for but you may stumble upon the Fushimi Inari Taisha, something equally fascinating and deserving of exploration. Are you going to wallow because you didn’t find what you were looking for? Do you throw your hands up and go home or do you climb it and appreciate the things you find along the way? The Fowl: That’s a good one. I’m mad at how good that metaphor is. But I still feel that they’re just a bunch of misguided steps that could have been avoided. Shiva tells me that I seek discomfort and stress because it’s the only condition I actually feel comfortable in. Artemis: So that’s something you work on not something you should invalidate or feel bad about. It’s not your fault that you are like this. It’s not your fault. The Fowl: But I am so self-destructive. And other-destructive. I feel like a tornado who can’t stop hurting everyone and everything in her path including herself. Artemis: A tornado forms due to the build-up of the pressure of a million gusts of wind. A tornado doesn’t wish to form herself. It’s not the tornado’s fault. It’s not your fault. The Fowl: I feel like I’m too old to be listening to Lorde. Artemis: You’re never too old to listen to Lorde. The Fowl: Really? Artemis: Really. The Fowl: I feel fat. I am fat. Artemis: You’re not fat. How is it even possible that you feel fat? The Fowl: I don’t know. I felt the most beautiful when I was underweight. I like the anorexic look. Artemis: But anorexia is a disease; why would you want to look diseased? You look and you are so healthy right now. Full of life and power and energy. The Fowl: But I was more beautiful then. Artemis: *gives up* The Fowl: I’m addicted to heartbreak. Artemis: Yes, yes you are. And you go to great lengths to find and manufacture it in your head baby. You use it to self-soothe. But it’s alright. It’s not your fault. It’s the only way in which you existed in your childhood: heartbroken. All you experienced was heartbreak, all you knew was heartbreak. You don't know anything else. The only things you knew were fear, guilt, and shame. You have no idea how sincerely happy you have the opportunity, the right to be. But you’ll get there one day. The Fowl: A stable relationship could never fulfill me the way a situationship doomed from the start could. Artemis: And that’s why you go after all these unavailable men. Physically, emotionally, worse when it’s both. Because you already know how it ends and there’s nothing you crave more than the heartbreak. And that’s why you’re so scared of commitment because you know that it’ll be the complete opposite of what you know and you’re afraid of being out of your comfort zone, afraid of letting yourself find happiness. Afraid of breaking the chains that have held you since before you were born. You’re not gonna wake up one day and decide that today’s the day you’re ready to commit. That it’s been 3-5 years since you said that maybe you’ll be ready in 3-5 years. Oh baby you have so much to learn and so much room to grow. You always have and you always will. The Fowl: Do you think that people who were loved properly as children can be artists? Artemis: I don't know. I mean they sure can be and maybe I'm just romanticizing trauma but I feel that having no trauma limits the degrees of intensity to which you can feel. Thus, those who’ve experienced the lowest lows can too depict the highest of highs. Are all those who are traumatized artists? No. Does it hurt? Definitely not. The Fowl: Wow. That makes sense actually. But then again you’re just a figment of my imagination, so I have no idea if that actually has any merit. Artemis: You can’t discount us like that. You love having conversations with me. The Fowl: I know I do. Higher highs, lower lows, but it’s only fun for a while before you realize that all you want eventually is stability right? Artemis: Yeah, but you’re not there yet. You’re getting there but admit it Lucia you love this feeling. You love this self-induced, subconsciously orchestrated heartbreak. You fucking love it. Lucia: I really do. The Fowl: Do you think that people want to read what I have to write? Artemis: They absolutely do. You know this. They’ve told you. The Fowl: I know but I feel so silly. Artemis: We’ve been over this. How many people do you think exist who are like you? The Fowl: Probably tons. Artemis: Probably. And the way you are able to articulate exactly as all those people feel? Think about how many people feel alone. How many people don’t have the incredible friends that you have who help you through this? Think of how much your writing could help them. Your writing has so much value. “Flaws, Chaos, Wreckage and All” That’s what you wanted to call it right? Plus you're hot. It doesn’t even need to be that good. The Fowl: Ok, insulting. Artemis: I’m your favourite person to talk to, aren’t I? The Fowl: Yeah, probably. Do you really think that people want to hear what I have to say? Artemis: Remember when we realized that we need to live as if we’re rich white men? Do you think that a rich white man ever doubts whether people want to hear what he has to say? A white man you know is writing a TREATISE. That white man thinks that what he has to say has enough value to be considered a TREATISE, darling. Darling me oh my. Do you know why all philosophers are rich white men? It’s because they’re the only ones with enough confidence to publish what they write, baby. Human greatness rests on humanity’s willingness and ability to communicate it. The Fowl: Wow, Jesus you’re convincing. Ok well. I already proclaimed it and Dionysus has already promised to buy at least 10 copies when I publish it so. Artemis: You already spoke it into the world baby. Self publish like Rumi, Su Shi, Rupi Kaur, and all the other greats. *The author would like to make a note that the above phrase is meant to be read sarcastically* *The author would also like to note that this is, in fact, an homage to Hofstadter* The Fowl: Ok, so what’s the first step? Should I wait until I have enough good things to say? Artemis: No, you’ve already outgrown some of the stuff you’ve written in the past. Why do you think that there will come a point when you have gathered enough experiences worth reading about and that’s when you’re going to be ready to publish? You should only feel that way on your death bed. Your life is going to keep happening and boy, I know yours is a damn interesting one. Filled with so much drama and chaos and love and loss. Remember what you’ve been told: “You are loved from all corners of the world.” The Fowl: Ok, so I just do it then? It’s not... Artemis: Why do you even have doubts? The Fowl: Because I don’t believe in myself. Artemis: I believe in you. And I’m literally the goddess of wisdom. The Fowl: And I’m just a chick. And a fool.  Artemis: That was funny. The Fowl: Why can’t you just laugh? Why announce it? Artemis: There are levels to this shit ok? The Fowl: Wait hold on Athena is the goddess of wisdom.

Artemis: Wait fuck you’re right how did I fuck that up? Rick Riordan would be so disappointed. 

The Fowl: Whatever. Back to the thing. We’re calling it “Flaws, Chaos, Wreckage and All” right?

Artemis. I’m not writing this book, you are. Is that what you want to call–” The Fowl: Yes! That is exactly what I want to call my anthology. Artemis: Darling you’re misusing that term. The Fowl: Then what do we call it? A book of poetry or prose or writing doesn’t quite cover it. Artemis: Call it a treatise. A treatise on emotion. The Fowl: Holy fuck I fucking love it. “Flaws, Chaos, Wreckage and All: A Treatise on Emotion” by Y. H. Zhang. FUCK I LOVE IT HOLY FUCK. Artemis: I’m glad you like it, dear. 🥺 I’m very proud of you, dear. You’re one of the smartest people I know. One of the smartest, most self-aware, most conscientious, most courageous, most loving, most thoughtful, most beautiful, most righteous people that I know. You really really don’t give yourself enough credit. The Fowl: That’s a lot coming from you, Artemis. Artemis: And I mean it. I mean every bit. See how I didn’t include some things like “selfless” or “kind”? Because we’re still working on that. But the ones I said I mean with full sincerity. The Fowl: I don’t know how to handle all this praise. Artemis: Accept it, dear it’s yours. Anyone who knows you could not be clearer of this. The Fowl: Hehe yeah, I think you’re right. My friends do praise me a lot. But I think I tune it out because I don’t love myself. Artemis: We all do. It’s a process. The Fowl: This conversation seems drawn out. Artemis: Does it? Or are you simply uncomfortable being praised? The Fowl: ummmmmhhMmm Artemis: Because I’ve just started. I can go on and on for days about how magnificent of a person you are. I mean I can also go on and on for days about the mistakes you’ve made and the people you’ve hurt too. But that’s the beauty of it. If you’re not making mistakes you’re not learning. You’re not going out of your comfort zone. You’re capping the level of your opponent, Life, at only 30 exp. If you’re always winning at life you’re not advancing in it. I once read an article that said that you should be failing at least half of the goals you set. Because if all your goals are within reason and achievable, then you’re not setting them high enough. You’re selling yourself short. So become a poet, and a musician, and a choreographer and dancer, and get a Norwegian green card and a regular green card and have four kids and get married and stay married. And have your own flower shop, publish and write and read to your heart’s content, be an equestrian, surf and dive and break the world record for women’s freediving. Speak nineteen languages and fall in love and stay in love and remain in love. And be buried under a tree that your great-grandkids can play under. And raise kind, loving children and cook vegan food for all your friends and have Lucia’s Club be a thing and love so much. And love so much. And love so much. The Fowl: That was really really intimate. It makes me want to publish even more. Artemis: It should! The Fowl: Wow, you really are just as insightful and knowledgeable about life as any of the men I’ve put on pedestals. Artemis: I am literally a statue placed on top of a pedestal. The Fowl: I think I need to apologize to you. Artemis: I’m listening. The Fowl: I’m sorry that I don’t believe in you enough. I’m sorry that I don’t love you enough. I’m sorry that I treat you in any way other than with kindness and love and compassion. I’m sorry that you’re the last person I’m apologizing to. I’m sorry that I’m going to keep hurting you despite knowing all this. But I want you to know that I’m trying, every day, to love you more. Trying, I promise you. Sometimes it’s easier and sometimes it’s oh so difficult but I’m sorry and I promise you, despite how scary it is to make that commitment, to keep loving you more and more every day. To console you, to trust you, to believe in you, to nurture you, to nourish you, to give you everything you need to succeed, even though I’m not even sure what that means. I promise to take care of you. Mentally, spiritually, physically, emotionally, intellectually. I promise to not let you get carried away with your playtime, to get involved with things that are bad for you, and to cultivate the things that are good for you. Because you really are yourself such a treasure. You yourself are as brilliant and incredible, and beautiful, and deserving of love, deserving of care, as any of the men you cherish. I am so sorry that I’ve been bad to you. Artemis: Thank you. It’s not your fault. It’s all written in the stars or in a book somewhere. I’m really glad that you can acknowledge this. I’m also really proud of you. You’re young to have realized this. Many people go their entire lives without ever even meeting their Artemis. The Fowl: I know, I’m so, so lucky to have you. Artemis: I’m lucky to have you.

[ravenvsfox]

I know you have already done a lot of the ship posts (and they are all phenomenal and accurate af) but can you pretty please do Jesper and Wylan from six of crows/crooked kingdom? Xoxo

I’m SO sorry this took so long, you’re such an absolute sweetheart and also christ I’ve never been called an inspiration before holy.. god

also heck i love wesper this is a treat

SEND ME A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU… 

who is more likely to hurt the other?

don’t.. do this

they’re genuinely so good neither of them would ever TRY to hurt the other, and they’re both so tender and apologetic if they ever do. I think I’m gonna have to say jesper though just because. he’s still a little stirred by his addiction (to trouble! to bringing two guns to a gun fight! to gambling! to love!) and he’s got some jealousy and sensitivity baked into him, bless him. I feel like he’d run a risk and break Wy’s heart by accident, a little bit

who is emotionally stronger?

a genuine toughie bc they’ve both survived and persevered so MUCH. I think in terms of immediate reactionary instincts, Jes is better at letting bad vibes roll right off of him. He’s made of smiles. He’s trouble and a good time rolled into a waistcoat. If you insult him he only gets stronger. Wy was raised in silk and champagne but he was raised BY an absolute monster so. he’s a very bruised peach. criticism pierces him v easily. Though in a more fundamental way, wylan has fashioned his past trauma into a shield. by the end of ck he’s building himself new emotional strength with his bare hands

who is physically stronger?

ohhh man. They’re both noodle boys. Wylan is too smart for exercise. Jesper does his fighting at a 20 metre distance from his target. Jesper is bigger than wylan but most of his size is gangly and delightful and awkward. I think jes could probably still beat wylan in a pinch, but I’m more caught up in how funny it would be to see them try to fight it out

who is more likely to break a bone? 

man I’m tempted to say jesper just bc he seems like he would be...... brittle. I think he gets into scrapes a lot. I think wylan starts to get into p frequent scrapes by nature of being the sixth crow. I think the both of them are so busy worrying about each other’s fights that they neglect their own and trip off a building or smth

who knows best what to say to upset the other? 

I think wylan can be a nasty piece of work when he’s pissed enough. like he may be a silk eared puppy but he’ll chew your shoes and track mud around if you forget to feed him. jesper doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body man, I think he’s a sarcasm queen and a joker but he’s definitely not mean

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument? 

I think jesper’s constantly assuming he did something wrong and he sits down with wylan 100% serious like ‘babe.. im so, so sorry. I never wanted to be the sort of person who made you look sad like that, we’re past that, I truly made a promise--’ and wy would be like ‘what no I was sad bc a screw on my flute is loose and I couldn’t practice today’. but also yeah if it’s a serious fight they make up in a rush, and they laugh at themselves, and they use their energy for something better

who treats who’s wounds more often? 

here’s the thing about the crows man, they’re always sustaining minor injuries as a team and it’s a win if they live, right? All I can picture is the roar of activity when they pull off a job and they come back limping and bleeding and swearing and crowing w joy, and jes and wy take their seats opposite each other and clean wounds, kiss foreheads, smooth back sweaty curls, squeeze hands, make promises. the routine, u kno

who is in constant need of comfort? 

uhhh both of them (it’s always both my guy jot that down). Wylan has 16 years of shitty imposed self loathing to unlearn, and traumatic experiences all over him. jes has lost a lot (including his mom) and he struggles with addiction so like. yeah they both need comfort. they both wake up w the phantom feeling of a mother’s arms around their shoulders. they’ve both seen the very worst of humanity. They’re just two nervy, high stress kids trying to figure things out

who gets more jealous? 

lmao WYLAN VAN ECK did y’all read his scenes in crooked kingdom that boy is NOT SHARING. he glared real holes in kuwei’s head guys. jesper tbh is a terrible flirt and a HANDFUL and wylan is happy. to have his hands full. no one else.

who’s most likely to walk out on the other? 

mmm nahhh

who will propose? 

u bet ur ASS it’ll be jesper. Imagine wylan’s blushing face...... he’d do it for that alone. tbh there’s probably a point in their relationship where jesper’s outrageous flirting isn’t enough to get that pretty blush from wylan like he’ll roll his eyes and shove jes in the shoulder and w/e but they have to have increasingly ridiculous conversations about kinks or w/e until that blush comes out. jesper’s like ‘dang. guess I gotta step up the romance. what’s the most romantic thing? marriage? marrying wylan? son absolutely where do i sign’

who has the most difficult parents?

lmao lm a o lmaooo Lmao LMAO lmao

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? 

I feel like depending on the social climate of Ketterdam, hand holding might not be on the table?? especially for two criminals associated w the bastard of the barrel like idk man I can’t picture it. they don’t want to draw attention to themselves (well i mean. jes wants to. but they can’t). I think they’re all about sly glances and the most obvious smirks you’ve ever seen, and brushing shoulders!! brushing shoulders are their makeouts

who comes up for the other all the time? 

they’re always together man bf’s that blow shit up together and live together stay together so like they rarely have the opportunity to talk about each other. howEVER jesper probably mentions his boyfriend in the middle of a hand of poker w an inappropriate smile or gushes to w/e prisoner he’s breaking out of jail or makes Kaz’s day weird by trying to confide in him

who hogs the blankets? 

wylan is exhausted w luxury and jesper is a child who wants to be held so he rolls over and then over again so that wy always wakes up to a lapful of boyfriend and a roll of blankets and he has to wait for jesper’s heavy sleeper ass to arise so he can get up to pee 

who gets more sad? 

booooth -- jesper is understated sad with a side of unnerving frowns, wylan is a wobbling mouth and clenched fists. Sometimes they stay in the Wylan Van mansion and lock the doors so the maids can’t come in, and they bring the lavish decorative pillows into a heap on the carpet and feed each other sweets and rub each others backs and laugh and laugh the darkness away. wylan sketches. jesper poses. there’s scheming & kaz impressions. jesper is a storyteller and he imagines out loud what nina or inej are up to at that very minute, controlling gravity and hearts and the sea and their lives 

who is better at cheering the other up? 

see above ^^ they both go pro at the comfort olympics. Jesper is that little bit better though. He’s a sweetheart with all the right words in his pockets. He knows how to chop wylan’s dad down like the overgrown dead tree that he is. he knows how to flirt a smile onto wy’s face. he maybe lacks delicacy sometimes, but he’s so fun and wholehearted and warm that he can’t really go wrong

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

this is canon y’all, jesper is a lecherous bastard and wylan is equal parts disdain and delight. he absolutely will slap a boy

who is more streetwise?

god bless wylan but he knows a hell of a lot less about the streets than jes. He’s learning fast by the end of ck, but he’s still very sheltered in a lot of ways. Jesper has a few years under his belt, and he’s.. like tbh he’s a part of a gang so. He’s seen a lot. He’s participated in a lot. He has a pretty steep list of kills, same as every other survivor out there. He’s detached from the deaths but he’s been on the other side of a lot of bullets that have crumpled people up and thrown them in the trash. He knows his business, too. He knows Ketterdam. Well. Wy knows the half of it Kaz wants him to see.

who is more wise?

Wylan is utterly brilliant and Jesper is wholeheartedly here for it. What was that line again? ‘you’re cuter when you’re smart’? Wylan can think his way out of just about anything, the world belongs to him. jsyk

who’s the shyest? 

Wylan absolutely what a sweetie. I mean a lot of it stems from unfortunate self esteem issues and a history of being burnt but a lot of it is pure soul deep candy sweet embarrassment and not knowing what to do w his own cute face. He doesn’t know how to deal w people a lot of the time. he knows sheet music & formulas. he does not know how to look at a boy with beautiful lips all curled up at him and not pass out

who boasts about the other more? 

jesper is loudmouthed usually and he’s that much more loudmouthed when he’s in love, catch him talking to anyone who will listen about wy’s stupid face 

who sits on who’s lap? 

jesper would definitely try it, don’t even test him, he would fold all his crane limbs into wylan’s lap and say ‘hello peaches’ and wylan would have to slide both of them onto the floor to escape his embarrassment. on a good day, jes’ll scoop wylan into his lap and he’ll feel quiet, for a while

[seekingraesmiles-blog]

If You're Not Laughing at the Past You're Not Living

Life is funny and we're just a bunch of silly people living it. If you take the three mindsets, one of a person who contemplates the past, another the present, and the other in the future you still get three human beings who constantly make mistakes. While mistakes are a funny animal themselves, they're not the comedian. We are. Here's how and why: First, there's the mistake itself. Removing any life, death, and/or traumatic mistakes, we tend to do silly things all the time. We lock our keys in our car, yell at people when we get stressed out, and maybe sometimes we put the milk in the pantry instead of the refrigerator. Then there comes a moment in life when we look back at those mistakes and just laugh. "Why the heck did we do that?" we ask ourselves. I don't have a better answer than saying it's simply because we're silly people. Yet the second part of this is the funniest part. Not only do we make mistakes but we tend to overly stress out about them making matters 1,000,000,000 times worse! Take a silly argument you had with a loved one. Did it get a little ugly for no good reason at all? Are ya laughing at how stupid it was? Yeah? Okay good because it was. Why do we act like it's the end of the world when something bad happens or when we make a mistake? There's a perfectly well thought out psychological answer to this. But for the time being we're just going to go ahead and say it's cause we're silly human beings that over analyze things and complicate that. That's fine. It's almost like a right to passage. Right? We do stupid, silly, hit 'em on the head, kinda things. How can we positively learn from them if we can't laugh at our own mistakes? There's got to be a moment when we just look back on our life and laugh at how embarrassing some of our actions were. Stress out for what? It's over it's done. So whether or not you're a past, present, or future kind of person, you're going to live a better life if you can laugh at yourself. Life is too short to give yourself angina over something silly and stupid. So if you're going be silly and stupid write yourself a post-it note to laugh at another day. Good Vibes & Happy Lives, RaeSmiles

[silenceisbetterthanbs]

Hello! Please do not take this the wrong way because I mean well. I apologise if I make you feel insulted. I think it is very great that you are 27 and into k-pop. I am 19 and people I love tell me I am too old to be a fan. I am afraid to grow up and keep the things I love behind me. I do not think I am ready to grow up. Anyway. Thank you for being open about your love for k-pop. It makes me feel better. Sorry for my English.

Hi there! :)

First of all, your English is great! I’m not a native English speaker either so don’t worry about it. And second, don’t apologize for anything because I’m definitely not insulted. You just stated a fact, I am 27 and into kpop, nothing offensive about that. 

This is such a complicated topic but I will try to explain myself clearly. Be prepared to receive a life lesson from this random fangirl on the Internet!

Young people (I mean teenagers and people in their early 20s) have such a weird obsession with age and what growing up entails, I feel like there’s nothing I can say to really make you feel better because I used to have the same fears when I was your age. I can tell you this, though: ageing is awesome. It looks scary when you’re young because you feel overwhelmed by all this uncertainty and the idea of having responsibilities you’ve never had before, specially in this weird difficult time we live in where some things are a lot harder than they told us they would be. 

I used to have a really hard time when I was younger, I was clinically depressed during half of my teenage years and I flopped all over the place in terms of jobs and living arrangements for most part of my early 20s. I’m naturally a pessimistic and anxious person, it’s engraved in my DNA and there isn’t much I can do about it so I did worry a lot about these things you mentioned. So, so much. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to be a functioning adult and I’ve always been a serial fangirl so part of me was worried I would never be mature enough to act like a real professional person, that me stanning this or that group would mean I was stuck in my teenage years forever.

Looking back now, it looks so silly and irrelevant but back in the day they were serious issues for me so I know exactly where you’re coming from. There’s nothing to worry about tho, you don’t need to be ready to grow up because time will take care of that. It’s the beauty of it, time will prepare you for what’s to come. I won’t lie, you are never ready for anything, you won’t be ready to be adult and you might be lost for a little bit (or for a long while) and you will make a lot of mistakes but that’s totally fine because time is giving you the confidence and the emotional tools you need to deal with it, even if you don’t realize it in a conscious level.

You’re so young (and I don’t mean it in an insulting, undermining way), people reach what I call the “zen phase” at different paces but you will get there someday, don’t try to rush it because it’s not something you can control. Growing up and becoming an adult is not a sudden, traumatic thing, it’s something that happens gradually and you don’t really notice because most of your personality stays the same, you just get polished around the edges.

About being on the older side and being a stan. Man, that’s such a difficult, personal topic for me I feel like I could write 300 pages on it and it wouldn’t be enough. My loved ones used to tell me those things at your age as well (hell, they still do) but you should just ignore them because loving something is NEVER a problem -as long as it’s something that doesn’t cause you or anyone else any harm, of course. Being a fan is such a wonderful thing, like I mentioned I’ve always been a fangirl and I’ve jumped from one fandom to another for almost 20 years now.

There’s this stupid, fake idea that you turn into a apathetic robot who only worries about work and taxes and family, if you have one. That’s so sad, you know? I’m sure there are people like that out there but most adults are just people with passions and hobbies and insecurities, like you, but time gave them the tools to deal with that stuff without breaking out in a emotional wreck every time something happen (well, at least most of the times because oh boy there are some ugly emotional breakdowns sometimes). I’ll let you in in a secret: nobody really knows what they’re doing and we just bullshit our way through life, doesn’t matter how old you are.

I’m getting sidetracked here, sorry. My point is: there are so many things we all have to do because we have to, stuff we don’t like and stuff we don’t really know how do to and stuff we weren’t prepared for. Life is complicated and full of ups and downs and having something to turn to at the end of day is what saves us, to be honest. Whatever it is (as long as, you know, it’s not harmful) works as long as it’s done in a healthy, balanced way. In my case it’s kpop and has been for a while. I’m no less of an adult nor less professional or mature because I stan kpop and I don’t care who tells me the opposite.

I’m a busy person and I try to juggle all my work and social responsibilities the best way I can and kpop is my fuel, it’s what lifts me up when I need a push. For example, I’ve worked so many extra hours this week, it’s been really exhausting and stressful for me but I get home at night and pet my cat and eat something and I log into Tumblr and see my kids and everything just goes away. Just like that, my day is over and my me-time starts and it makes everything worth it. I have the key to my happiness and that’s such a powerful thing, you know? People can make fun of it all they want but I know exactly what to do to lift myself up when I’m feeling down and that’s one of the most important pieces of knowledge you can have, in my opinion.

I feel like my reply was all over the place and I hope you can find some sense in what I wrote. TL;DR: Don’t worry about growing up because it’s not something you have to do consciously and it’s a gradual process so you don’t have to be ready for it, just try to live your life as balanced as possible and everything will fall down into place on it’s own. And never let anyone take what makes you happy away from you (as long as it’s not harmful to you or others) because life can suck and it’s is full of responsibilities, so having something that makes you happy is a very wonderful and powerful thing. Being a fan and being a functioning adult aren’t mutually exclusive - quite the opposite, in my opinion.