#while sacrificing a person's life like this is something he would normally oppose [and violently if need be]

[charmspoint]

Top 5 characters that live in your head rent free 🤔

For this ask meme

Oh god ONLY five??? GOOD QUESTION. This is gonna be hard to both decide on and rank fairly uhoh lets see, this ranking his shifty as hell depending on what I’m into atm obvs

5. Tsurugi Kamiya from Servamp

Does he look like a knock off Izaya? Yes. Is he? Very much no.

Tsurugi is like my no 1 reason for getting back into Servamp, I left right in the middle of his arc and I ;-; IS HE OKAY??? DID HE GET AWAY FROM TOUMA??? DID HE BECOME WRATHS EVE??? NOBODY TELL ME I’LL FIND OUT ON MY OWN.

Servamp was one of those shows where I didn’t really have a fav main character for a good while until this guy showed up. This guy is an absolute crazy little monster I can’t overemphasize on this, his coat is used as a fucking straight jacket I’m not even kiddin

You get introduced to him and he’s scary and terrifying because he’s so strong, like he’s one of those strongest in the series characters and since he and the heroes are on semi opposing sides he is a serious threat. So you get introduced to this guy who seems borderline crazy and feral and then...you get to see him goofing off with his two boyfriends and their kid and it’s just

The domesticity!!!!Look at it!!!! It’s so fucking cute aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, they are so cute together OT3 of C3 ftw, MY SON. Like Tsurugi had a horribly abusive childhood and was basically raised like an attack dog and his previous partner :) well he do be trying to seriously kill him don’t he. But look! He found his own little family he can be semi normal in!! Until is torn apart by his abusive adoptive father figure :D!!! I ABANDONED HIM IN THE MIDDLE OF THAT ARC AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

im sorry this got so long on this particular character none of the others will be so long i just miss him TSURUGI ILL CATCH UP FOR YOU!!!! Maybe he should have been no 1 hbjhbjh fucking sleeper agents am i right

4. Izaya Orihara from Durarara

Ah yes, the og queen bitch. Has my taste for villains ever recovered from Izaya? No. If your villain isn’t at least a bit like Izaya I’m not interested. Durarara was one of my first serious fandoms and Izaya was the first character I ever wrote for and I think you can explain me as a person if you consider Izaya was my all time fav at 13. I can’t really say anything about Izaya that hasn’t been said thousands of times before, I love how goofy and overperformative he can be, I love how there’s so much in him once you crack him open, I love how good of a villain he is for a messy story such as DRRR, puppeteer villains are really a league of their own. We need more puppeteering twinks, maybe then I’d be more into villains yaknow.

3. Hawks from Boku no Hero Academia 

To no ones surprise!Him! I’ve been drifting off from BNHA recently what from catching bad case of JJK what from just reading n watching more other stuff and honestly that’s probably good because I’ve been into BNHA for a couple of years now as my main fandom and I really could have used a break. Not to say I don’t like BNHA anymore tbh I think right now BNHA is the best it’s ever been just ya know, drifting. That being said my love for Hawks will never die, god what a good boy and we got his backstory too aaa ;-;. BNHA was just like Servamp, something I liked but didn’t really have a fav character in until this random support character strolled in and won my heart. God I love how much we got on Hawks. He’s completely different from his initial impression and his unrelenting strive to do good despite being thrown from one horrible situation to the next is just ;-; HES SUCH A GOOD BOY. He’s selfless to a fault, literally putting everyone before himself and putting himself down for not being able to achieve more than is humanly possible I’m just ;-; I WANT HIM TO BE HAPPY. He just makes my heart happy, he’s good and warm and hardworking and in a manga where trauma plays such a major role in so many characters it’s so good to see Hawks there, having been through three different types of hell and still coming out unnerving in his goodness. All I want for him is to have a good life and to one day be able to smile for real.

2. Gojo Satoru from Jujutsu Kaisen

Again no surprise since I’ve been so into jjk lately. Satoru is p high up rn cuz I’m mainly into JJK now but god knows where he will actually settle. He’s not even really my favorite character in the show, that goes to Inumaki, but this is a list of who I think about the most (tho all of these characters are either no 1 or no 2 for their shows) and boy my brother and foxy can tell you I’m constantly thinking about this bitch. I didn’t really care about him that much at the start but then I got to Hidden Inventory and OH BOY MUCH TO THINK ABOUT. Satoru is such a wonderfully complex character whos evolution you can clearly follow through the years. He’s under so much pressure as the strongest sorcerer to deal with everything and he has to operate in that system trying to change it for the better while at the same time trying to make sure his students arent sacrificed in the name of that change. He has a very goofy disposition but along side with Nanamin who’s a lot more explicit about it, it’s clear he cares about mental state of his students a whole lot. He knows this world is terrible and that the will come out of it with scars and that he can’t protect them from all of it, but he balances protecting and letting them grow as much as he can. They need to grow so jujutsu society can change after all, but they also need to be protected so they don’t fuckin die before that can happen. This is without all the many many opinions I have on Hidden Inventory and SatoSugu as a whole, how they influenced each other, how differently they reacted to their shared trauma (Funny how everyone on this list is fuckin traumatized) and what resulted from it. How their fucking love story is dramatic enough to be a Shakespeare play. Also I like it when he’s long and goofy ahahah

1. Chuuya Nakahara from Bungou Stray Dogs

Not to objectify men on main but I couldn’t choose a picture 

If there is ever a day when I don’t go feral over Chuuya I’ll probably be dead. He not only lives in my head rent free he owns the place.

HES SO UNDERUSED.

BSD has such a great setup with Chuuya, like he’s ex partners with the mentor of the main character who got betrayed and abandoned when the mentor left shared evil organization. Sounds like grounds for drama right? YOUD THINK SO. Like Chuuya and Dazai have such a great and interesting dynamic and you can feel how strained it is from the distance and betrayal and they bicker and fight as their defining relationship trait BUT there is such a strong underlying trust to all the fighting. These two trust each other with their whole lives and that hasn’t changed despite everything, despite how much time has passed and how much that trust had been tested. So you’d think he’d be an important character :) HES STUCK IN SUPPORT HONESTLY HES STUCK IN BACKGROUND UNLESS HES NEEDED TO DO SOMETHING COOL AAAAAA. Chuuya is literally one of a kind, I’ve never seen a character with such a good design and such an cool power and such an interesting relationship to one of the main characters and such a love and support from the fandom BE SO UTERLLY AND COMPLETLY WASTED. Even when we get Chuuya scraps they rarely build on relationship he has in canon but just throw in new random ones at him (tho that’s a broader problem of Kafka throwing new characters at the plot instead of developing the one he already has really). We get a hint of a cool fight with him? Completely cut out, More often then not it just feels like he is benched because he’s so damn strong there would just be no plot tension if he went in and broke some heads (which is also a problem with Satoru, guys stop writing op characters if you’ll just put em on the bus aaa). Anyway he’s completly and utterly wasted by the plot.

And it’s such a waste because he’s such a good character. Like he’s a member if the villain organization and is obviously by that very vicious and violent but also so empathetic and kind to people he considers his friends. He and Dazai have the brawn and brain thing going on and stg Chuuya is like the only brawn I can think of that is classier then their brain. Look at how this guy dressed, he’s high class gay, hat, choker, coat, gloves, he is bringing in the looks. I love how he can actually be completely calm and rational and put together but then put him with Dazai and it’s back to ‘we are 15 and we will scream out heads off at each other’, they are so childish. 

Anyway I love Chuuya he deserves to be treated better and I will never stop screaming about Chuuya ever

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 24

WARNING: MENTIONS OF DRUG ADDICTION, ALCOHOLISM, DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, PTSD

TAGGING: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

  It had been a rough night.

Despite both physically and mental exhaustion, persistent and throbbing pain in both the knee and the shoulder had made it nearly impossible to get comfortable; meds weren’t successful in even taking the edge of, nor was a steaming hot shower or ice packs.  And when he had managed to drift off, he was plagued by nightmares. Vivid recollections of both childhood trauma, the death of his son, and the worry surrounding Millie’s impending sixth birthday. It had all blended together. One moment he was a little boy cowering in his bedroom closet as he listened to his father berate and physically beat on his mother. The next he was back on the beach with Austin who was no longer a little boy but a young man with his father’s eyes and a mop of blond hair; holding soon to be six-year-old Millie’s hand while they waded through the surf. And while Austin hadn’t said a word, Tyler had been begging him to leave Millie behind. Arguing that it wasn’t her time yet; still so many years ahead of her, so many things she was going to accomplish, milestones that she was going to reach and surpass.  

But Austin wouldn’t listen; refusing to be swayed by the tears and the pleading and the bargaining. Tyler willingly offering his life in exchange for his daughter’s. He’d lived a long enough life; making amends for most of his mistakes and he had nothing valuable or worthwhile left to give to the world. He had learned how to love again, and he had FELT love, and that was enough.   He was the one that Austin wanted, after all. The one that abandoned him when Austin had needed him the most. It should be him paying for the error of his own ways, not a little girl that was innocent and pure and still had so much living left to do. None of it had mattered. Austin had still taken her. Bringing Tyler to his knees; a broken, despondent, and sobbing mess.

He hadn’t been aware that he’d been talking and thrashing in his sleep. Not until his wife had violently shaken him awake and his eyes had snapped open and was greeted by the fear and the concern in hers. He’d been drenched in sweat; tears streaming down his face, heart racing, chest heaving as he attempted to draw breath into tight, aching lungs. It wasn’t the first time in the last seven years that he’d had a nightmare; for a straight twenty-four months following Dhaka he’d have at least two or three every night. Even when he’d been in the hospital and she’d climb into bed beside him, holding his head to her chest and clearing his tears away with gentle fingers and stroking his hair until he fell back asleep.  It was then that he’d discovered it was okay to let his guard down; he could experience moments of weakness and vulnerability with her and never face judgment or condemnation for it.  Eventually the nightmares had just stopped. One morning he’d woken up after managing a straight six hours of sleep and he’d felt like a new person.  

Within a month, other things had started to surface. Crippling depression, intense anxiety and terrifying panic attacks, thoughts of suicide. Not just wanting to end his life, but actually planning on how he would do it. The diagnosis of PTSD hadn’t come as a total surprise; you don’t live a life like his and commit the fuck ups you do without paying the price. But it had left him feeling weak and pathetic; embarrassed that he’d been reduced to nothing more than a shell of the man he used to be.  

Yet Esme had stuck by him through it all. Enduring almost seven years that must have...at the darkest and lowest of moments...felt like seven lifetimes. And she’d stayed by his side last night as well; fetching anxiety meds and  cool, damp cloth that she’d used to wipe down his face, forehead, and the back of his neck. Never saying a word the entire time she tended to him; the little smiles she’d give him, the concern and the love in her eyes, and her soft, soothing hands doing all the communicating.  Not once did they speak to one another, and when he had finally calmed down and his breathing had returned to normal, he’d laid on his back with tears still burning his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling. And she’d quietly nestled in beside him. Her forehead resting on his shoulder and her fingers combing through his hair. And he’d managed to drift off again; lulled to sleep by the sensation of fingertips lightly gliding across his forehead and the feel of her warm, steady breath against his skin.  

It’s daybreak now; brilliant sunshine peeking over the horizon. The winds had become stronger through the night and he can hear the rustling of the trees and the waves as they crash onto the shore. The patio doors had been left open overnight and now the strong, cool breeze flutters the curtains and fills the room with the distinct smell of salt. For several minutes he doesn’t move. A forearm over his eyes as he takes in the noises from outside and his wife’s soft, rhythmic breathing as she sleeps beside him. She’d rolled away sometime during the night or early morning hours, resting on her stomach with the comforter pulled up to her chin and her face turned towards him; hair covering her face.  

He rolls onto his side; fingertips gently pushing silky dark tresses away from her forehead and out of her eyes; palm resting against the side of her face as he presses a kiss to her brow. A sigh escapes her lips, followed by an incoherent mumble. And while her eyes never open, her hand reaches out for him, finding his chest and then sliding up to the back of his neck. Tyler studies her. The way the ends of those long, dark lashes just brush the tops of her cheeks, the freckles that dust the bridge of her nose, the slight smile that curves her lips, that thin and barely noticeable scar that runs from the left temple and stops in the middle of her eyebrow. She’s at peace. It had been a long and exhausting night and her mind and body are spent from yet again taking on the role of caregiver, tending to not only him, but their three-week-old as well.

It’s been her way of life ever since they got married. Helping him fight his demons while never having the time or the energy to battle her own. Consistently putting her own issues on the back burner while concentrating on his. Yet she does it. Willingly. Without hesitation. In the same way she’d stayed behind on the Sultana Kamal Bridge despite knowing that no one was coming to help. Sacrificing herself and never asking for anything in return.

He leaves her to sleep; grimacing the moment he swings his legs over the edge of the mattress and his feet hit the floor. It’s the first time in six months he’d been this desperate for something stronger to take the edge off; not opposed to saying to hell with sobriety and cracking open a bottle of whisky or scotch in an attempt to numb the pain. It’s been two and a half years since he’s experienced the level of relief that Oxy used to bring him; that almost euphoric state caused by half a dozen. There were times –if he drank enough with them- that he’d fall into a deep sleep. Managing eight to ten hours and then waking up completely disoriented; unaware of the time of the day or even where the hell he was. And then the pain would quickly return, and he’d turn back to the meds and the booze, needing the aide of both to simply function.

His hands tremble and sweat gathers on his brow and the nape of his neck, mouth dry as his heart hammers wildly in his chest. It’s been a while since he’s been this desperate; where he can taste the booze on his lips and his tongue, and he contemplates how to get his hands on those old vices. The demon is powerful this morning; relentless and brutal. And he actually considers getting dressed and heading into town or even one of the bigger cities to find what his mind and his body hungrily crave.  e stands at the bathroom sink with the cold water running; hands tightly gripping the edge of the porcelain as he looks at himself in the mirror. Disgusted by who...and what...he sees staring back at him. His eyes are dark and angry. Haunted. Jaw tightly and painfully clenched. Nostrils flaring.  And he inhales deeply and exhales slowly and shakily; struggling to contain the overwhelming and powerful need for relief and escape that surges through him.  

Placing his palms flat against the sink, he closes his eyes and tucks his chin into his chest; struggling to regain his control. Attempting to talk himself down off the ledge. Reminding himself of how far he’s come and how much he stands to lose if he falls back into his old habits and way of life. They deserve better than that. His family.  They deserve a husband and a father that isn’t an alcoholic or a drug addict.  He’s worried. Scared. That he can’t handle this alone; that he’s spiralling out of control and completely helpless when it comes to stopping it.

He sticks his hands under the running tap; the frigid temperature causing a sharp and startled intake of breath and effectively snapping him out of crisis. The demon that had been sitting his shoulder and whispering in his ear finally retreats. At least for now. And he splashes water on his face and cups it in his palms, drinking from it before running the remnants through his hair.

Refusing to look back in the mirror before he leaves the room.

******

Tyler heads downstairs and makes himself a coffee –rich, black, extremely strong- and carries it out onto the back patio, passing the empty couch along the way. Kyle never last night: he’d left as soon as he’d brought the twins back and they haven’t heard from him since. But his truck is still parked in the driveway and all his luggage still takes up way too much space. He’s at the neighbor's; no doubt about it. And while one part of Tyler is glad he’s breaking free of Nik’s clutches and the dumpster fire that his life would have become once he married her, another part of him wants to put a foot up his brother in law’s ass. Nik’s going to lose her shit and she’s going wind up back in Australia and on his doorstep and that’s the goddamn thing Tyler needs. She’s already caused six and a half years of heartache and drama. And just when he’d thought was free and clear of it...of her...she somehow found a way to weasel her way back into his life.

He takes a seat on the bottom step of the patio stairs; elbows on his knees and coffee mug clasped tightly in his hands. Inhaling deeply and releasing the breath slowly; allowing the cool air to fill his still aching and trembling lungs. It’s refreshing. Relaxing. And he can feel the last of the tension slowly leaving his body; the sand beneath his feet grounding him, the sound of the ocean and the smell of salt water all working together to bring about the beginnings of peace. And from behind he can hear the soft clink of metal upon metal; the sway of the tags on Mac’s collar as he slips through the open sliding doors and pads towards him. Insistently nudging Tyler’s arm: a request to lift it and let him snuggle in tight beside him.  He obliges, ruffling fur at the back of Mac’s neck and the top of his head before resting a hand on the dog’s back.  

It’s as if Mac can sense who needs him the most; always finding the kid that doesn’t feel well or is coming down with some sort of illness, going to the closed nursery door and alerting them before Addie even begins to cry, even curling up beside Esme when the postpartum depression hits especially hard and makes it impossible for her to even get out of bed. Even two hours before the start of Addie’s early and difficult start into the world, he had known that something was going on. Refusing to leave Esme’s side, constantly nudging her baby bump with his snout or placing his paw on it; so insistent that she’d snapped at him to stop being annoying and to just leave her alone and Tyler had to lock him outside. Which only resulted in high pitched whining and clawing and chewing the screen door to shreds in a desperate attempt to get back into the house.  

His coffee is gone and the sun has filled the sky when Esme joins him; setting a second steaming much down beside him –along with a tea for herself- before placing her hands on his shoulders and dropping a kiss on the top of his head.  While he struggles with outward displays of intimacy and emotions, she seems to excel at them. Those small yet comforting touches when he’s not expecting them, the thoughtful little things that she does and he often takes for granted, even those winks and smiles she’ll sneak his way every once in a while. She craves what Mark had been incapable of giving her; affection and acknowledgment, intimacy that exists in its purest and sincerest of forms outside of sex.  And Tyler tries to reciprocate; to use more than words to let her know just how much he does love and appreciate her. But it’s been difficult, even after all this time.  He knows what he feels and how profoundly he feels it, but getting it out is often an immense struggle.

Her chin rests on the top of his head and her hands linger on his shoulders. Fingers lightly massaging the tense muscles before her palms slide down onto his chest and back up again; lips pressing against his cheek before she sits down beside him.

“Good morning,” she greets and kisses his shoulder, one hand coming to rest on the small of his back as the other picks up her mug of tea.

He leans into her, pressing a shoulder into hers and placing his lips to her temple. “Good morning, baby.”

“Is it okay?” she asks. “That I sit with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking,” she says, and skims her fingertips along his spine. Starting at his tailbone and travelling to the nape of his neck before sliding back again, hand resting just above the waistband of his shorts.

He sips his coffee; its hot and strong and it brings a smile to his face. “Kids still asleep?”

“Every single one. Why does Declan sleep on the floor, though? Explain that one to me.”

“He’s a ginger. Ginger’s do weird shit.”

“Don’t talk about your red headed stepchild like that,” she playfully retorts, harking back to a conversation months ago about Declan’s red hair being the result a ‘fling’ with the cable repair man.

Tyler smirks. “You know what...”

“What? What are you going to do? Nothing. Because you love me too much.”

“Says who?”

“Don’t deny it. You can't hide it from me. I know these things. I figure if you’ve stuck around this long, it must be love.”

“Well it’s definitely not your cooking, so....”

“You smart ass,” she grins, and her hand moves from his back to his side, fingers softly tracing the edge of the tattoo that decorates his rib cage.  

For several minutes neither of them speak; it’s a quiet and peaceful Sunday morning. A far cry from the night before and things that had haunted him and kept him awake.  The nightmare is still fresh in his mind, the images and the sounds on constant replay in his head.  And while his physical pain remains the same, the cravings for Oxy and booze had dwindled. Her mere presence is comforting; the touch of her hand upon his skin, the smell that lingers in her hair, that gentle weight of her knee pressed against his. It’s these moments that he finds himself enjoying the most. Sex...love making...fucking...it’s all amazing. Each and every time. And they have been since their first time together. But it’s times like this when their connection seems stronger.  Along with their comfort levels with one another and the trust they have in each other. Those are the true driving force behind not only their marriage, but the remarkable friendship they share.

***

“Do you want to talk about it?” Esme asks, her cup presses to her lips, eyes fixed on the ocean in the near distance.

“Not really,” Tyler replies.

“Okay,” she says, and presses a kiss to his shoulder; knuckles grazing along his ribs. “You don’t have to. But you can. When you’re ready to.”

“I know,” he smiles, and pecks her lips. “Thank you.”

She gives a smile of her own in return, and he can’t resist pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. Addie looks so much like her; those big, dark eyes and those freckles across the bridge of the nose, even the same ears and lips. So beautiful and so perfect in every possibly way. At least in his eyes.

“Are you still going today?” she inquires, and her hand settles at his waist. “To see your dad?”

He nods.

“Do you want me to come with you? I can track down Kyle and ask him to watch the kids. I know he won’t mind. Maybe it will be better for Millie if we’re both there with her. You know, just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

“Just in case things go a little south. That way you’re not trying to deal with your own stuff AND her. She can be a handful and if something happens and you find yourself in crisis...”

“What do you think is going to happen? I’m only going to see my old man.”

“Anxiety? Panic attack? Those are difficult and scary things to see you go through as an adult. Never mind how terrifying it would be for her. She’s five and if you’re alone with her...”

“Ovi said he’d come with me.”

“I think I should be going with you. As your wife. And I want to be there with you. FOR you. Let me do this, okay? Let me be there for you.”

“You already are there for me. You always are. Look at last night.   Look at the nearly seven years.”

“I’m there because I love you, you ferociously stubborn but beautiful man. It’s what we do when we love someone. Look at all the times you’ve done it for me. All those Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners at my mom’s you suffered through; never shying away from sticking up for me when she or my brothers started their shit.  You always had my back. No matter what.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my wife. The mother of my kids. I love you.”

“Exactly. And I love you. So....” she gives his side a slight pinch. “...you get a hold of Ovi and tell him thanks, but no thanks. That your wife is going with you. Maybe he’ll watch the kids if you ask nicely enough. We’re not exactly speaking right now.”

“Well, may it’s time you do. Speak to him.”

“I’m not ready to deal with him. I don’t want to keep hearing his bullshit reasons for doing what he’s doing. And I’m tired of trying to get through to him. He doesn’t get it. Why I’m so worried about you getting dragged back into all of this.”

“He’s young,” Tyler reasons with a shrug. “Stupid. He’s only thinking of himself. And he doesn’t have much to lose.”

“But you have a lot to lose. So do I . So do your kids. And he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand the fall out if things go wrong and you don’t come back. And I need you to come back. WE need you to come back.”

“Hey...stop...”  he gently orders, and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly into him, lips pressed to her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Everything could go right for a change.”

She snorts.

“I could break him before he even gets through training. It could be all too much for him and he decides it’s not worth it to keep going.  I’m going to push him. Hard. I’m going to make his life hell. He’ll regret the day he even thought about bringing me back into this shit.”

“Just don’t kill him,” she requests. “Because I did not go crawling around in that disgusting sewer in Dhaka only for you to end up killing him in the end.”

“I won’t kill him. I promise. Punish him. But not kill him.”

“And if he doesn’t? Crack and give up?”

“Then I pray wherever he goes that he doesn’t completely fuck up. Let’s not talk about it, okay?” He squeezes her shoulder. “We’ll worry about that when and if the time comes. Let’s just get past Millie’s birthday and get the training started and see where things end up. Can we do that? Not talk about it until then?”

She nods in agreement.

“Thank you,” he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “By the way, did you know her daughter talks to herself?”

Esme laughs. “I know. She gives herself a pep talk every morning after she brushes her teeth. She makes me leave the room and then she stands on the counter and talks to herself in the mirror. She totally hypes herself up for the day. You should hear what she says. It’s cute and it’s inspiring and hilarious all at the same time.”

“She said something to me about having an awesome day and no one dulling her sparkle.”

“That’s part of it. That’s always in there. But she adds in new things every day. She reminds me of a football coach psyching his players up with some intense pregame speech. She is SO your daughter.”

“I do NOT talk to myself.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean she is so much like you in every way. She can be so intense and so focused and then just so sweet and cute and...”

“Wait a second...” he frowns. “...are you seriously calling me cute and sweet? What the fuck?”

“Cute might not be the right way to describe you,” Esme admits. “More like ruggedly handsome and phenomenally sexy. But you can be so sweet. Don’t look at me like that,” she laughs, when he gives her a foul look. “It’s true. You CAN be so sweet, and it makes you even more attractive than you already are. I don’t need you to be tough and kick ass all the time. I love the softer side of you. I love all your sides.”

He grins.

“Especially your naked sides,” she adds, giggling when he smirks and leans into her; his mouth covering hers in a long, slow kiss that curls her toes and has her fingers digging into his side. “By the way,” she grins afterwards. “Your naked sides were in fine form last night.”

“So were yours. Along with your hands. And your mouth.”

“And my teeth,” she adds, and pressing two fingers to the bite mark that graces his left trap muscle. “Sorry. That one’s really noticeable.”

“You should see the one on my thigh. That one broke the fucking skin AND drew blood.”

“Excuse you...” she lifts the leg of her pajama shorts, revealing the rather large hickey and bite mark that sits alongside of it. “...you should talk! I don’t want to hear you complaining. One of those CSI people could get a perfect dental impression from that thing. You bite a lot harder than I do.”

Tyler grins. “You like it.”

“That’s beside the point. You’re kinky and a bad influence.”

“I bring out all the best sides of you, baby.”

“And the dirtiest ones,” she says, and it’s her turn to kiss him. Even longer this time. More intense. Just feeling the tip of his tongue press against hers when they hear the sliding door being drawn further across the track behind them.  

“Stop,” Esme orders without looking over her shoulder. “Which one are you?”

“Tanner,” comes the reply.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing,” little arms circle her neck from behind. “Hi mommy,” he chirps, and pecks her cheek.

“Hi,” she turns her face into his and tousles his hair. “Did you sleep good?”

“Yep,” he wraps his arms around her father’s neck. “Hi daddy,” he cheerfully greets, and then settles himself in Tyler’s lap, who in turn runs a palm over his son’s hair; gently forcing the five year old’s head back and pressing his lips to his brow and giving him a wink. “What are you guys doing out here?” he asks.

“Mommy and daddy stuff,” Tyler replies.

“Making babies?”

Esme sighs. “That is not all that mommies and daddies do despite what your sister tells you.”

“Sometimes mommies and daddies just practice making babies,” Tyler says, and his wife stares at him, both brows arched. “Well they do.”

“Is that what you guys were doing?” Tanner inquires and helps himself to a sip of his father’s now lukewarm coffee. “Practicing?”

“We never quite got there,” Tyler admits. “Because someone likes to cock block.”

Tanner frowns. “What does that mean? Cock block?”

“It means your dad needs to watch what he says around you,” Esme responds. “And it means you do not go to school and repeat that, okay? You do not use those words around your teacher or out on the playground or anywhere. And you especially do not say them around TJ or there will be trouble.”

“Don’t worry mommy. I know how to keep my mouth shut,” Tanner assures her.  

“Are you the only one awake?” she asks.

Tanner shakes his head, the longer strands of hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “Addie’ awake. And crying. I came downstairs and got her a bottle, but she didn’t want it. I think she needs a new diaper. I was going to do it, but I don’t really know how yet, so...”

“I’m on it,” his mother says, then finishes the last of her tea and stands up. “Maybe daddy can make breakfast.”

“He can,” Tyler confirms.

“And call Ovi,” she adds, and bends down to kiss his cheek. “I’ll try to find Kyle.”

“He’s next door getting his rocks off if that helps at all.”

“What does that mean?” Tanner inquires. “Getting your rocks off? That sounds fun.”

“Fun when you’re much, much older,” his mother says. “Right now, you don’t need to know what that means. Want to come and help?” she offers her son a hand. “You can practice changing diapers.”

“I do not want to be the diaper bitch,” Tanner informs her.

Esme arches an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I said what I said.”

“Who taught you that?”

“I can’t tell you. Snitches get stitches.”

“Now I know for sure who told you,” she smirks, and digs her toes into the small of her husband’s back. “Do I have to stop you two from hanging out together?”

“You can’t,” Tanner says. “He’s my dad. We live in the same house.”

“Then you stop being so much like him,” Esme says. “You got that haircut and suddenly you turned into his Mini Me. I’m going to shave that hair off when you’re sleeping.”

“No!” Tanner objects. “This hair cut is bitchin’.”

“I didn’t teach him that,” Tyler informs her.  

“That was Uncle Kyle,” she concludes. “Only Uncle Kyle uses that word in this day and age. You two behave, okay? No more cuss words.  I’m getting tired of the teachers complaining about you kids’ mouths. And you...” she presses her toes into Tyler’s ass. “...please watch what you say. They repeat everything. Remember what happened when you call TJ’s a stupid fat cow at the dinner table? It got back to her. The very next day.”

“I apologized to her. I told her I was sorry. That I was sorry she’s a stupid fat cow.”

“She is,” Tanner says. “A stupid fat cow.”

“Enough,” Esme orders, and tousles his hair. “Stop repeating every bad thing you father says and you...” she slaps Tyler’s shoulder. “...stop saying so many bad things around him. This is the sweet one. The cute one. The one everyone likes. Don’t turn in him into his brother.”

“I could never be that bad,” Tanner scoffs.  

“You just like to extort money out of people,” Tyler says.  

“You fell for it. Mommy said you would.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow as he regards his wife. “You were in on it.”

“It was a social experiment. To see how far his cuteness could get him. He totally fooled you. Don’t hate me because the player got played.”

“Mommy!” TJ hollers, his face appearing in his bedroom window. “Addie’s flipping her shit!”

“This house is hopeless,” she sighs, and heads for the door. “Utterly hopeless.”

“Mommy is way too uptight,” Tanner concludes, as she disappears into the house.

“Just a little,” Tyler agrees.

“But you love her right?”

“Of course, I do. I’m married to her. She’s your mom.”

“Not every mommy and daddy love each other,” Tanner points out.

“No. They don’t. But I love your mom very much. More than I ever thought I could ever love someone. And she gave me you and your brothers and your sisters and that just made me love her even more.”

“I’m going to have two wives when I grow up,” his son declares.

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Why not?”

“Do you know how hard it is to keep one happy never mind two?”

“Mommy’s happy.”

“Think she is?”

Tanner nods. “She’s sticks around, doesn’t she?”

“Good point.”

“I think you’re doing a good job. I mean, mommy’s happy and she smiles a lot and you’re the best daddy ever, so...”

“Best ever, huh?” He wraps both arms around his son’s waist and kisses his cheek.  

“Ever,” Tanner affirms. “In the whole world. I hope you’re my daddy forever.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Where am I going?”

“I heard mommy and Uncle Kyle talking. About you going away and that you might not come back.”

Fuck.

“Are you? Going away? You said you wouldn’t go away anymore. When you got back last time. Did you lie?”

“I didn’t lie. I’d never lie to you.”

“Then where are you going? Why is mommy so worried about you leaving?”

“I’m not going anywhere. There’s just some things I need to do. Here at home. And there’s a chance...if they don’t go well...that I might have to leave. Not for long, though. Just for a little bit.”

“But you’ll come back, right?” Tanner turns around to face him; kneeling on his thighs and holding his face in his hands. “If you go away, you’ll come home, yeah?”

“Of course, I will. Nothing can stop me from coming home.”

“Because I’d miss you,” tears sparkle in the five-year old’s eyes. “If you went away and didn’t come back...” his voice cracks. “...I’d miss you so much, daddy.”

“It’s alright, mate,”  he gathers Tanner into his arms; one hand on the back of his head, the other in the middle of his back; feeling the tears that drip onto his shoulder and how that little body trembles against him. “It’s going to be okay,” he promises. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

[runabout-river]

Chicago P.D./Mayans M.C. crossover Part 1

Thanks for @hardcore-flower​ who came up with this crossover idea, which I couldn’t stop thinking about the last few days. I love crossovers, though in this case I have to admit that I didn’t actually watch Mayans M.C. but I did watch Sons of Anarchy from start to finish, which is probably the reason why I immediately started daydreaming about this:

(note: unlike with @hardcore-flower ‘s idea, I don’t think Antonio would actually join a criminal gang, I also had background hanktonio planned but in the end I left it out completely, also just the spare backdrop of the Mayans on account of me not knowing the show, also also this got so long that I had to split it into two parts)

Part 1.

The tension between him and Hank was climbing higher and higher though it was obvious that Antonio suffered significantly more under it than his boss. All of their strife came directly from their police work, especially when Hank’s brutality and cover ups escalated again, something that slowly started to bleed into their personal lives. He tried to fight that criminal energy that reared its ugly head every time their job became hard, or when it was just that easy to get away with it, and at first he believed in himself and Hank.

The Intelligence Unit could and should operate lawfully and under public scrutiny but with the way Hank was handling many of their cases it seemed as if he saw himself as the arbiter of the law and the only protector of his sheep, the innocent populace. Antonio believed in law and order and that no one should be above it. Not criminals, not Hank.

He thought it meant something when Hank became the sergeant of the IU and didn’t throw him out immediately. That him trying to have Casey killed really was just a one-time act of temporary desperation and insanity. Later he thought that he could be some kind of counterweight to Hank’s worst ideas and impulses, balancing out the unlawful interrogation techniques by reducing them to a bad cop/good cop routine or just making sure that all the threatened violence really was just for show.

At first it all seemed to work out, at least to an acceptable degree which Antonio could live with. He spent his whole career working in Chicago and as sad as it is to admit but police brutality of varying intensity always existed in the force and Antonio himself ended up being complicit in it, especially in his younger years. But he expected better from the Unit in this day and age and set out to make it so.

It worked for some time but unfortunately just as Hank’s police conduct got worse, Antonio’s resistance and endurance of dealing with it got brutally hit as well. Physically he had to deal with getting shot at for the second time in two years, courtesy of some drug dealers and Pulpo, which later led to being prescribed Oxycodone to deal with the pain. Laura left him on top of that which hit him hard emotionally. Three years into working with Hank and Antonio’s mental wellbeing was suffering which the addiction to his painkillers both helped to alleviate but also made him hurt in other ways.  

Then Justin died and everything went from bad to worse. Hank killed his son’s murderer which Antonio confronted him about immediately afterwards. But it was a bad time to oppose the sergeant and Hank made sure that Antonio felt it for the next year. Physically hurting suspects became the norm instead of just an extreme occasion. Even threats against mere witnesses became more and more common and were followed through in more cases than Antonio liked to admit.

And worst of all? The team got turned into Hank’s way thinking, following his orders without doubting them in any meaningful way. Antonio never counted on Erin and Olinsky to rear Hank in but to see the rest of them not only going along but actively participating in illegal interrogation techniques, illegal observation and the kind of brutal police work that would go viral if it were ever recorded on a phone, saddened him to an unimaginable degree. He should have prevented this but obviously he failed.

He should have tried to build some kind unity with the others who were thinking more like him when he had the chance, but Whilhite died and left a gaping hole in Antonio’s heart. Ruzek found his new mentor in Olinsky and Hank fired Sumner at the first excuse. Atwater was more malleable than he thought and Burgess was too eager to serve some kind of justice instead of the right one. Roman was a good police officer but Hank would have never put him into the unit. Mouse, like Jin before him, had not much of a say in the way the unit worked and Nadia would have followed more into Erin’s footsteps than someone else’s. Trudy didn’t work inside the unit but unfortunately she herself had a certain tolerance for Hank’s behaviour as long as she didn’t see it with her own eyes.

Only Jay was his last hope but that hope diminished with every new case. Maybe it was because of Erin or maybe it was Antonio himself who couldn’t keep him in line, but Jay had less and less to say about hitting a suspect one too many times and lying about it later, or about rearranging the scene of a shooting to suit the needs of the IU. He was even passed the point where he either removed himself from the brutal interrogations or watched them silently.

Right now Jay was a willing participant in all of that, ready to excuse anything and everything they did in the name of justice served. Worst of all Antonio could see the guilt in his eyes when he heard those words from him, making him feel bad deep down because he was the one who brought Jay into the team. Jay’s sense of moral integrity seemingly eroded before his eyes and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

And Antonio himself? If he was not getting outright benched for certain raids and suspect retrievals he was sent to other places, far away from whatever fingers were being broken right now. Opposing Hank was unbelievably stressing. Being put into place was humiliating. Reporting the most egregious instances to the higher ups felt more and more like putting his carrier and occasionally even his safety on the line.

His pill problem only got worse because of that. Every back and forth with Hank and every losing argument with his team got so stressing that he took one like a smoker would a cigarette. It was sad and infuriating at the same time, frustrating and heart breaking in equal measure. Sometimes Antonio didn’t know where to put all his emotions or what to do with them deep in the night. When he finally found room to breathe normally again a nagging thought kept him awake, that maybe, maybe he had problems other than just an addiction.

In the end it was fear that slowly started to rule his life, mostly the fear that he might end up like Jay, of surrendering his principles to Hank Voight. When the next case came everything in Antonio’s life seemed to come to a halt. The case was convoluted and a little chaotic, one where you just had to work through tons of witnesses who named more witnesses, where you had to temporarily expand your IT workforce because of the insane amount of data that needed to be analysed.

But the Intelligence Unit had more “efficient” ways to fall back to, direct and critically faster as Ruzek said. Uncompromising police work was necessary as Burgess put it. It came to a point where the team expected everything that came out of Antonio’s mouth to be a critique of some sort and they went the extra mile of shutting him out beforehand. It wasn’t just Hank anymore, it was the whole team this time. He was being excluded on the grounds of not bending the rules and laws to his whim, of not being a criminal with delusions of righteousness. It was devastating.

His last confrontation with Hank went poorly but this one was just plain awful, the backlash more than excessive. It got physical for one, and one of the others was also there to witness it. He tried to get across just how unnecessary any violent action was right now, an ironic statement if there ever was one as he was uncomfortably pressed against a wall at that moment, but his sergeant basically took that as an attack against his character, his authority and even his whole career which he sacrificed so much for.

It ended with him being sent home for the day, an action that mystified Antonio to no end. Why wouldn’t Hank just fire him already if he was just that much of a hindrance to “real police work”, if he was always “guilt tripping” everyone out of “spite”. If they didn’t want him there then they should just throw him out. Vote on that if they have to, hardly anyone would be on his side. So instead of going home he drove back to the station, taking two pills after getting into the car and another one inside the police building.

He went their room up and down for a while, only pushing himself to come to a decision when the arrival of the others became a dreadful possibility. He printed out the resignation form, filled it out and put it on Hank’s desk. Slowly and haltingly his badge and gun followed. Antonio took one last look around the office, swallowed another pill and left while forcing himself not to look back.

(note: I would apreciate it immensely if someone with mother tongue level of english skills could beta for me before I put this on Ao3 :)

[gritsandbrits]

From the Sonic the Hedgehog Wiki on Shadow's personality:

Shadow is a brooding loner, to put it bluntly. He usually acts with a cool and businesslike indifference, only occasionally showing his vulnerable side. He is rarely seen with others for an extended period of time and usually distances himself from essentially everyone. He is usually blunt and doesn't speak much, but he always knows exactly what to say in combat. However, Shadow never bluffs. If he makes a threat, he has every intention of carrying it out.

Shadow also does not mind boasting about how powerful he is, calling himself the "Ultimate Lifeform" and, like Sonic, can be extremely arrogant, often belittling his opponents and insulting their lack of strength. He believes no one can beat him and tends to see anyone as a fool for challenging him. Shadow also has a ruthless and merciless edge in combat that all other characters in the series lack and displays a natural "killer instinct".

Shadow's infamous ruthlessness and aggression lead to fear and a nervousness that inhibits characters from his unshakable intent or sheer power in combat. Numerous characters from the Sonic series have shown absolute dread from encountering Shadow. Shadow's enemies never treat him lightly; he is one of the very few people Sonic takes seriously and ever acts truly hostile towards.

Alongside his dark and violent demeanor, Shadow can be smug and stubborn. He treats others in a very callous manner, throwing in his opinion no matter how cold-hearted it is and not caring for whatever the response is. Shadow is also shown to have a sharp wit, like in Sonic Adventure 2, where after Sonic calls him a faker, he replies that Sonic isn't worth being considered his fake, and in Shadow the Hedgehog, he taunts Black Doom's eye for having trouble with GUN. This attitude is reflected in the original Japanese version, where Shadow omits honorifics and speaks highly of himself (if not rudely), though contrasting this, in Japanese he normally uses the "boku" pronoun when referring to himself as opposed to the more arrogant/confident "ore" pronoun (which characters such as Sonic use).

On occasion, Shadow appears to have some degree of mental instability. This is demonstrated by his instances of post-traumatic flashbacks to Maria's face prior to and during the events of Shadow the Hedgehog, though it could be argued that they were simply an effect of his amnesia. In many games Shadow is featured in, he pursues his foes with disturbing determination; that is to say he'll go to any length to accomplish something he desires or feels should be a certain way, no matter what the cost. In Sonic Forces, it is heavily implied that Shadow ruthlessly slaughtered an entire mercenary band not only in an extremely dismissive, nonchalant manner (not even remembering the incident a few months later), but also seemed slightly proud, mocking the mercenary defense squad by saying they themselves needed a defense squad. He also demonstrated rather coarse and even profane language in his own game.

Shadow also possesses a strong sense of identity. As evidenced when after falsely being told that he isn't the Ultimate Lifeform due to a lab report, he states to Rouge that even if his memories were fake, he is still Shadow the Hedgehog. Similarly in Sonic Heroes, during the Egg Fleet level, he mentions that, even without his memories, he is still the Ultimate Lifeform, Shadow the Hedgehog. These qualities make him rarely susceptible to being manipulated by other forces.

Despite his apathetic nature, Shadow is not without compassion. When Omega begins his attack in Sonic Heroes, Shadow could have easily forgotten about Rouge and engaged Omega without defending her. Instead, Shadow saves her from Omega, despite having absolutely no memory of her. He was also shown to be legitimately shocked when he learned that his goal of gaining the Chaos Emeralds to restore his memories was actually manipulated by Black Doom in order to wipe out humanity. Likewise, when the GUN Commander finally confronts him with his own memories of Shadow's nightmarish creation, Shadow agrees to face judgment if he was indeed responsible for the ARK massacre 50 years ago. In Sonic Colors DS, Shadow was also shown to be worried about the possibility of Sonic and Tails getting hurt while trying to save the wisps, much to their surprise. However, he remained dismissive about his concern for them. He spent the majority of Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood trying to find Omega out of worry for his well-being. He was also quite enraged when he found out that the Marauders had been hurting Omega and helped him to get revenge.

Shadow is often depressed about the loss of Maria, which is why he keeps to himself, but his relationship with Maria is obvious as he goes to great lengths to protect the planet and keep her dream of peace and prosperity alive. He also maintains a strong bond with his teammates, Rouge and Omega, proving that while his attitude makes him seem like a careless person, he does have some compassion. Shadow brushes off most kindness or sympathy that is sent his way; in Sonic Heroes, when Rouge showed concern for Shadow when he saw a broken android of himself, suspecting Team Dark's Shadow might be an android too, Shadow curtly brushed her concern away. In Shadow the Hedgehog, after Sonic suggested some "friendly competition," Shadow bluntly rejected his offer. At times, however, Shadow is shown to appreciate genuine care. In Sonic Adventure 2, after Amy made him remember his promise to Maria, Shadow openly decided to keep his promise to protect the planet both to Maria and her. Another instance is in Sonic the Hedgehog (2006), when Rouge told him that she would always be by his side, he acknowledged her.

Despite the fact that Shadow often fights for the greater good, he is considered an anti-hero for the most part due to his morality and means to his desired end goals. He does whatever is necessary to get what he wants or feels is right, though this enthusiasm causes him to take risks and jump into situations without fully thinking it through. Alongside Rouge he has also taken prize money and jewels upon winning in Sonic Free Riders. He and Rouge disregard the opening and closing ceremonies for the Grand Prix, showing up late without a third teammate and, if they win the Grand Prix, starting to walk off right away with what turn out to be dummy versions of the prize money and gems. Regardless, Shadow does have his moments of selflessness and heroism. He nearly sacrificed his life at the end of Sonic Adventure 2 to save Earth and helped Silver uncover the truth of the Solaris Project, after saving Sonic from him, in Sonic the Hedgehog (2006).

From the Archie Sonic Wiki on King Shadow's personality:

Unlike his Mobius Prime counterpart, King Shadow is excessively brutal when it comes to doing what he feels should be done. His high opinion of himself as the Ultimate Lifeform has expanded to the point where he seems convinced of his invulnerability and superiority to others.

He is vicious and direct, controlling the planet by either forcing compliance or eliminating anything he deems a potential threat to his order. He is somewhat sadistic in his justice, but as he believes his intentions are ultimately good, he has established Maria as a figure of worship.

He also demonstrates a desire to control all aspect of Mobius, and will do what is necessary to punish those who do not respect his rule. Knuckles, however, admitted that, regardless of how bad things were under Shadow's rule, he "knew how to keep the warmongers in line."

I can't believe Archie broke Shadow's complexity into Generic Doomsday Villain.

[rainesclan]

Out of the Woods (Dan x MC) [Part Four]

Link to: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A/N: Okay so I may or may not have unintentionally lied about this being the last part. It took on a life of its own as I was writing it, so change of plans…there’s gonna be a couple more parts. Guess it wasn’t meant to be over yet! I also threw together a Spotify playlist of songs I listen to while writing these ILITW fics for anyone who’s interested.

Description: With Noah and Jane’s would-have-been birthday coming up, things begin to go south.

Pairings: Dan x MC, Noah x MC

Rating: PG-13 (some stronger language)

Words: 2,060

The dawn sky was still streaked with darker shades of blues and greys when Kayleigh spread an old knit blanket down on the grass at the tree line of the chillingly familiar woods. It was silent aside from the occasional flittering of wildlife running through the leaves littered beneath the bare trees and the murmur of the wind rattling through the branches. She shivered involuntarily in response to the bitter cold, and she pulled Noah’s old denim jacket tightly around her shoulders as she sat down, her body facing the looming woods that she didn’t dare to venture any further into.

It wasn’t the first time she had gone back to the woods, although she knew her friends would be anything but happy if they knew how often she found herself drawn back to the spot they had silently vowed to never go again. Something always drew her back. It was a compulsion rather than a desire to be there that she knew they wouldn’t understand. And that desire had only grown stronger when she checked her calendar that morning to see the date.

Next week, they would have turned eighteen. Noah and Jane.

She never actually went to the ruins. Not only did she like to believe that she wasn’t stupid enough to do such a thing, but she wasn’t sure she could handle it even if she’d wanted to. Instead, she would bring a blanket and sit a few yards back from the tree line. Sometimes she would just sit and watch…as if she was expecting to see or hear something – anything – to let her know he wasn’t suffering…but most of the time she came with something to say.

He probably couldn’t hear her, but maybe he could. And maybe it would be beneficial for him to know that someone still thought about him. Still cared about him.

That morning, she had been particularly anxious. The reoccurring nightmare about Homecoming that she had become all too familiar with had rattled her awake in the middle of the night, and she wasn’t able to get back to sleep afterwards. Instead, she passed the time turning over memories and thoughts of how things used to be. They were thoughts she had become so used to that she didn’t even cry anymore. Sometimes she would feel a chill deep in her core, but she didn’t feel sadness, per say. She just felt numb.

She liked to take short trips out to “talk to” Noah on those days when she would get particularly caught up in thinking about him. Something about it made her hold on to the good memories that they’d made as opposed to lingering on the last night of his life.

The wind stilled when she sat down, crossing her legs beneath her as she stared out into the woods. Silence lingered in the air for a long few minutes, and she took a deep breath before exhaling and beginning to speak.

“Hey,” she said, as if in normal conversation.

There was no surprise when she was met with only more silence in response.

“I was just…” she paused to search her own thoughts. “I was thinking about you a lot last night. Because of your birthday coming up and all, I guess.”

She fiddled with one of the sleeves of the denim jacket that covered her arms, curling her hand into a fist and tucking it inside. The wind rustled the bare branches of the trees again, as if it was urging her to continue on.

“I miss you, Noah.”

It was the first time she had allowed herself to admit it aloud, and once the words fell from her lips, she felt a metaphorical weight being lifted from her chest. Tears burned behind her eyelids for the first time in a long time. She missed him. Maybe her friends didn’t, and maybe they couldn’t understand why she did, but she missed him more than she was even consciously aware of at times.

“Things have been…weird I guess. Everyone’s kind of just pushing past what happened. It sucks when everyone’s moving on and you still feel like you’re stuck, you know?”

He did know. The thought of it sent a chill up her spine. That feeling was ultimately what drove him to his betrayal. The words seared in her thoughts, and she winced internally at the memory.

She would never be able to forget that night for as long as she lived. The feeling of his cold, metal blade against her neck was nothing compared to the feeling of her blood running ice cold, and the surge of nausea that churned violently in her stomach when she’d realized what was happening.

The person she’d trusted the most betrayed them. Lied to them. Lied to her.

Yet she couldn’t bring herself to be angry – not even during times like these when she would reflect on everything – because she knew who he really was, and while she would never understand why he did what he did, she forgave him.

“You know I wanted to hate you?” She asked the trees, and the wind gusted again. “I really tried. To hate you, I mean. Things would be so much easier if I just…” her voice cracked, and she didn’t notice that she was crying until she touched the wet stains on her cheek. “If I just hated you.”

The air was quiet around her – almost too quiet – and when she sniffled, it echoed through the emptiness.

“I can’t though.”

She pulled her knees closer to her chest to hold in the sob that threatened to surge up into her throat. The fact that she couldn’t move on was suffocating, and it had only worsened since the drunk driving assembly. A part of her – a big part of her, at that – was so hopelessly into Dan, but another part of her was still clinging onto the past…as if Noah was coming back. As if he was even going to know.

Maybe he wasn’t even out there anymore…and if he was…she knew he was probably no longer the Noah she shared all of those memories with. If he was still there, trapped in what remained of the ruins after sacrificing himself for his sister, there was no telling what he had become. She knew there was a strong possibility he’d turned into what Jane had turned into. He was Noah…but he wasn’t Noah.

And then there was Dan – who had been the center of her elementary school games of “He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not” while she and Lily would pick petals off of daisies at recess – making his interest in her abundantly clear. But he made her nervous. He shouldn’t have been into her. Sometimes she even found herself thinking that he must have just been taking pity on her.

With her track record as of late, trust wasn’t easy to come by. Pushing him away was a defense mechanism. The last thing she needed was to get wrapped up in him – the guy of her childhood dreams – only to find out she was a charity case. A pity date, because – as Britney and Jocelyn always made clear – who else would be willing to date her?

She wanted to trust him fully, but she couldn’t. Not when it was someone she cared about as much as she cared about Dan. If he, of all people, hurt her, or broke her trust, she honestly wasn’t sure if she would be able to recover. Not after what happened with Noah.

The cold breeze streaked through her short locks of blonde hair, and she glanced down at her watch as she buried her nose into the denim fabric that still smelled like him, content to just sit there and listen for any sign of him for the rest of the morning.

3:52

Dan stood in front of his locker in the empty hallway, unable to suppress a huff when he looked up at the clock above the bulletin board that had been littered with fliers for the plethora of fundraisers that had been going on since Homecoming. The school had seen its fair share of damages, and the reparations didn’t exactly fit into the budget, as Lucas had told him one day during lunch.

3:15 was when he told Kayleigh the team would be done running drills. It was her idea to meet up to talk in the first place, and now over a half an hour later, she still hadn’t shown.

He fiddled absentmindedly with the dial on his locker to keep his hands busy, and after what felt like at least another five minutes of waiting, he finally pulled out his phone to send her a short text.

???

Sinking to the floor, he took a seat in front of his locker, stretching out his legs in front of him as he listened to the muffled sound of the band practicing in the auditorium. Several more minutes ticked by before he checked the clock again.

4:07

Screw this, he thought, and he stood up abruptly from where he sat.

If she couldn’t bother to show up, he couldn’t bother to wait around for her. It was obvious that she wasn’t coming, and a sudden wave of frustration washed over him as he thought about the fact that she’d blown him off and had him waiting there for almost an hour like a lovesick puppy. Unsure of how to handle it any other way, he kicked the locker door with force to channel his frustration, only to spot Lucas standing a few feet down the hall as he did so.

“Uh…” Lucas paused before taking a few steps closer. “You okay, man?”

He shook his head before his friend could delve into a deeper line of questioning. “Have you talked to Kayleigh at all today?”

“No. She wasn’t in English before. I don’t think she came to school.”

Dan fluctuated between frustration and worry, and he squeezed his eyes shut briefly to gather his thoughts. His irrational mind wanted to be pissed that she was jerking him around. He wanted to say “screw it” and just be done with her until she could figure out what she wanted. But the part of him that knew her and what she – or all of them, for that matter – had been through, knew he needed to be understanding. And if she wasn’t showing up to school something may have happened.

“Did you try calling her?” Lucas asked.

“No. I sent her a text and she didn’t answer.”

Lucas had never been particularly good at hiding his expressions, and when he furrowed his eyebrows, Dan could tell he was worried.

“Maybe one of us should call her,” Lucas suggested. “I mean, I’m sure she just took a personal day. Or maybe she was under the weather. But it’s better to be safe.”

“I’m just gonna stop by her place on my way home,” Dan told him with a shrug.

If she wasn’t answering her texts, he doubted she’d be answering her calls, and there was no point in calling only to be put in touch with her voicemail. He turned to head towards the back doors that lead out to the parking lot before he heard Lucas’s voice again.

“Dan,” he called to him, and Dan turned to look at him once again, the worried look on his face only looking more pronounced than it had just a minute ago. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two…but I just thought I should remind you…” he paused briefly. “Noah and Jane’s birthday would have been next week.”

Oh.

A chill ran through his body at the words.

Would have been.

Sometimes he still found himself forgetting that they were gone. Both of them.

Dan thought back to the subject at hand before responding.

“So she’s probably-”

“Not handling it well?” Lucas finished for him. “Yeah. I doubt it.” He pushed his glasses up further onto the bridge of his nose when he spoke. “I’d go with you to check on her but…”

“You’ve got class president crap to handle. I get it,” he assured him, and he glanced at the clock on the wall again to see that the minutes were ticking closer to 4:30. “It’s fine. I’ve got this one.”

[blackjacketmuses]

hc; komaeda 6

(from this meme) @multiimuse said to blackjacketmuses: 1-22 for Kokichi, 23-42 for Komaeda

Komaeda:

23. Romance

Nagito has about as much of a sense for the romantic as a rock. Not for lack of wanting, he’s just...deeply and painfully socially awkward and maladjusted, and has very little clue of how to read situations. So...he really doesn’t get romance or romantic gestures. Oh, he gets the concept, he’s seen and read enough! But to actually act it out, it’s...hard to really parse.

If someone does something romantic for him, though, expect a very overly happy and emotional response, because that isn’t something even on his radar of things that are possible for trash like him.

24. Orientation

Nagito is very deeply asexual and demiromantic -- he’s not very interested at all, focused more on his obsessive beliefs and ideals than anything like that. However, if someone were to come along and really portray those ideals Nagito loves so much, and also reach out to him as a person...well, let’s just say it’s very safe to say he’d fall in love. (And he did.)

25. Religion

You might say that hope is his religion, and you’d probably be pretty accurate, tbh. But as for real religion, he’s...basically atheist. He’s just been through too much shit to really believe in any higher power. The only things he really believes in are hope and his luck.

26. Beauty

Well, his bio does say he likes beautiful things/people...so yeah, he does. He appreciates the aesthetics of things and people, even if he’s not romantically or sexually attracted to pretty much 99.9% of others. Places and things, too, really. Aesthetics are nice, and it’s something to occupy himself with; it relaxes him a little to just look at pretty things and let his mind drift.

27. Sleep

Haha, sleep, that’s cute. Nagito’s sleeping patterns are completely terrible. He doesn’t sleep much, and he’s a very light sleeper that has nightmares a fair bit. Sleeping pills freak him out a tad, too, mostly because he doesn’t want to sleep heavily, just in case something bad happens. He’s honestly at this point trained himself into functioning normally on two to four hours of sleep.

28. Home

He’s had several over the course of his life, mostly tiny apartments because they’re cheap and he has little to lose when something inevitably happens to them. They’re really comfortable, nice and small and cozy, but he never really has an attachment to them. They’re just places to live, and he’s long since learned never to really get used to one place.

Though...at this point, he’s getting hesitantly comfortable with the idea that Jabberwock Island is and can be a home now, for him and the others.

29. Bedroom

His bedroom tends to be very clean and neat and organized, with a lot of books and a very warm and comfortable quilt (not one in specific, really, but they always have to be warm and soft) and very little personalized touches. He’s gotten into the habit of not personalizing his living space too much, too used to losing it, but slowly but surely his cottage at Jabberwock post-everything is gaining some semblance of personality. 

30. Sex

Sex is a nonissue. He’s so completely uninterested in sex. He doesn’t really see the point, and he thinks pervs like Teruteru are kind of obnoxious and tends to chase them off, one of the few opinions and quirks he has that are independent of his obsessions. It’s also part of why Mikan doesn’t bother him near as much, because to him none of her shit is sexual, it just is, and it’s more vaguely embarrassing and sympathy inducing than anything.

31. Death

Death has never scared him. He’s been around death and seen death from far too young an age, and he’s completely desensitized to it. In fact, he’s basically outright wanted to die for a while now. It’s not scary, and it’s not horrifying. It’s part of life, and the only thing it is is the meaning found in it, whether it be hope or despair. 

He’d made peace with his inevitable untimely death a long time ago, honestly, and it was only a matter of waiting for it -- for him, his own meaning in death was finally peace and freedom, and the hope that others would find hope in the wake of whatever happened to him. Now, though, after it all...he’s starting to think that it might be nice to live a little longer, if just to find meaning and hope in his classmates.

32. Birth

His birthday is just another day, really. He buys himself a pastry and a new book just out of tradition, but other than that it’s a day like any other. No one gives him anything, no one acknowledges it, and no one really cares, so he doesn’t care either. 

Were the others in 77-B to acknowledge his birthday as something special, he’d probably get ridiculously emotional and gushy and happy, because again, it’s not something he’d ever expected to happen to trash like him.

33. Safe

Safety is...something Nagito desperately wants and can never seem to find. It’s fleeting and uncertain, and almost all he does activity-wise is seen through the eye of ‘is it safe?’. With the terrible, horrific things that have happened to and around him thanks to his luck cycle, worrying about the safety of anything he does is at the very top of his list every time he thinks about doing anything. It’s definitely a complex and he acknowledges it as such, but that doesn’t make it any less necessary in his eyes.

(He feels safe around Hajime, thanks to Izuru’s own Ultimate Luck being stronger than his own. That’s honestly more than he thinks he deserves.)

34. Affection

He’s also not really...socially aware enough to know how to express affection properly, either, so it comes off as really creepy when he showers the target of it in praise. He’s really...gushy about the person he likes when he likes them, how amazing they are (and how strong their hope is because that tends to go hand in hand), and it gets a little disconcerting. 

But he means well and he’s sincere about it, which is both simultaneously worse and better. 

35. Guilt

Guilt is a strange concept to him. He grapples with it, feeling bad about things, and he does feel bad about things! But he tends to not really understand...why he’s supposed to feel bad about them? He registers “oh, they’re upset about something I said, now I feel bad”, but he can’t quite wrap his head around why the thing he said was so bad. 

He’s slowly working on learning how to read why his behaviors can upset people, but he does feel bad that he does it! He wants to be friends with people, he doesn’t like upsetting them! But it’s hard to...figure out what causes it.

36. Sacrifice

He’s...well, let’s say he’s self-sacrificing to a fault. He doesn’t believe his life is worth much of anything at all, so he tends towards being a little too willing to die if his death would have meaning or help someone or -- in his eyes -- give hope to other people. He’s only distantly aware that this is not a good thing, but he doesn’t see himself as worthy of doing much else.

Conversely, if he thinks you’re more worthy than him -- specifically if you’re an Ultimate (a symbol of hope) or especially one of his classmates -- he’ll be violently opposed to any sacrifice you intend to make. Well, if it gives someone else hope he’ll be a little less upset about it, but a little.

37. Vengeance

There’s a damn good reason he hated Junko so much that it even bled through his brainwashing, and it in large part has to do with what she did to Chiaki and his classmates. She’s a symbol of despair, the antithesis of everything he believes in so obsessively, and more personally, she plunged the people he cared about -- his classmates, the people he adores so much -- into the depths of despair from which they couldn’t get out on their own, and she murdered Chiaki, the brightest hope among them.

Part of him fears that the reason Chiaki died is in a way linked to how happy he was that she cared about him despite how unworthy he was of it, and that just makes him angrier at Junko. He kind of wished he’d been able to be part of her downfall, but he’s aware he was in no shape to be, being a Remnant at the time, and he at least finds a little comfort in the fact that his death meant Hajime and the others were able to find their hope and destroy the AI Junko. 

38. Sympathy

He has a lot of sympathy for Mikan and Kazuichi, really. They love someone so much, someone they see as their hope (well...it’s weird in Mikan’s case but he can overlook that) and the other person doesn’t see it the same way. Well, Kazuichi can be a little creepy about it, and Mikan is a lot creepy about it, but he has no real way to judge beyond giving Kazuichi some shit about it when he gets too pervy at Sonia.

(He kind of has the same sympathy for Fuyuhiko and Peko, because they both feel that way about the other, but they are so far from on the same page about it.)

Despite this, he is unaware enough that if someone points out that that’s how it is with himself and Hajime, he’d laugh and be genuinely confused as to why.

39. Secret

There are a lot of things Nagito keeps secret. How afraid he is every waking moment of things going wrong, his terminal illnesses, much of the disasters in his life, how deeply lonely he is, and generally how teetering on the edge of despair he’s been most of his life despite believing so fervently and obsessively in hope. He likes to give the impression that he’s very unaffected -- and to a degree he is very apathetic and emotionally numb about most things in his life -- and smiles most of the time, and he  doesn’t think he’s worth being concerned about anyway, so he doesn’t see any reason to talk about those things.

It’s less a secret out of shame or embarrassment, and more a secret in that he just sees no reason anyone would care about those things, so he doesn’t bring them up.

What is a shameful secret, to him, is his buried wish that Ulitmate-level talent didn’t exist and everyone could live normal lives. That is horrible and humiliating and he’ll never even admit it’s there.

40. Scent

He’s been told by several people that he has the lingering scent of death around him, the smell of someone who should already be dead -- Mikan especially has noted it, telling him he smells very faintly of illness, like the smell in the hospital that the cleaning fluids mask -- and that doesn’t bother him at all. He can’t smell it! 

But he at some point caught on that it bothers people, despite being uncertain of why, so he took to using scented toiletries to mask it. He doesn’t really pick one scent over anything else, though, so it varies.

41. Memory

Thankfully, his FTD does not affect memory, so that part of his brain is intact. In fact, he has a fantastic memory -- not quite eidetic, but very close, and is able to keep track of quite a bit of information. If he forgets you, it’s more likely that he just doesn’t care enough to remember you (and even then it’s a conscious decision) than it is he legitimately forgot. 

On the good side, this helps him immensely in investigations and most of his daily life and work, especially during his time at Hope’s Peak, as a Remnant, and in the Neo World Program. But on the bad side, it means he has a nearly photographic memory of everything bad that’s ever happened to him, so that’s that. It does at least help him keep track of what to worry about in any given activity.

42. Loss

At this point in his life, he’s lost so much that he’s basically numb to the concept. He lost his dog, his parents, his home several times over, most of his friends and acquaintances, his health, and very nearly his life on many occasions. He at this point is completely inured to it, and finds it hard to grasp the pain and grief others feel at loss, mostly because at this point it’s just...it happens so much, he can’t be bothered by it anymore. He registers that people are upset when they lose things and people they care about, but because of his detachment from the concept he comes off as somewhat insincere when he tries to give comfort. He really does mean it when he tries, though.