I had a vague idea to do another comic for my angel AU, despite how much I hate doing comics. The reasons were two fold: I have a few panels in my head that I'd really like to draw and I feel like it's a fun intro to the AU. The problem is that this led me down a mental rabbit hole.

Since my AU was started well before S2, it was working off the general assumption that Aziraphale and Crowley didn't know each other as angels. Or, if they did, they didn't get the chance in the AU bc angel!Crowley was off hiding in the cosmos when he otherwise would have been socializing in some way. So this is reflected in the fic. They meet for the first time in Eden.

But the moment where they canonically do meet would happen in my AU. So now I'm consistently tempted to go back and rewrite the first fic in the series (which is also the one I feel like I could improve the most). But I never rewrite fic. I just let them stand as is and I don't want to break that habit in a series, especially, because that could have a cascade effect.

Light Under The Door

MAJOR TW FOR SELF HARM!

Au where Deku dies oops-

Warnings: angst, self harm, main character death

You first realized something was wrong when he wore long sleeves at home as well as at work. Usually, as soon as he got through the door, he’d ditch that uncomfortable looking yellow suit and don one of his much-too-large shirts, or sometimes even just skip into his flannel pajamas. 

For a good week, though, he had been choosing to wear his loose fitting winter shirts to bed and even while he relaxed at home. 

That wouldn’t have been overly strange on its own, all except that it was in the middle of summer. 

That, and he’d always slink away when you grabbed for his wrist or sleeve. He’d pretend as if it were nothing, and you believed him. 

That was until you got home from the store a little earlier than expected. His car was outside, so he was definately home, but the house was utterly and totally silent. 

You should have at least been able to hear him clicking away at his keyboard, or sipping some tea, or watching television. 

You silently placed your bags down, approaching the bathroom door quietly. You heard quiet hisses and hiccups from just beyond the door. 

It was unlocked and open a crack. You knocked quietly, calling out to him.

“Toshi, are you alright?”

He gasped, dropping something and audibly scrambling for the door. 

He peered out of the crack and into your eyes. 

“I’m fine,” he breathed, flashing a fake smile. He tried to close the door the rest of the way, but you put your foot in between the door and the frame, stopping it. 

He didn’t fight back. As you entered the scene, he hunched himself against the wall and covered his face. All he was wearing was a pair of boxers.

Your breath hitched as you saw what was going on. Upon seeing the abandoned razorblade and tiny droplets of blood, you knew.

"Don't...don't say anything. I already know," he grimaced, shaking his head. He’d struggled with self harm before, way back in his youth, but thankfully kicked the habit. Well, for the most part. One thing he always hated was being scolded for it, or being told how utterly stupid he is for doing something so harmful to himself.

It just reminded him of how he lets them down. How he let you down. Himself.

Him.

You held back tears. It's your turn to be strong now. For him.

You firmly grabbed him by his upper arm.

"Baby, look at me. Look at me," you breathed shakily. He did so, revealing his tear stained, ashamed face. He'd been hiding this for a long while. You could tell that much by the look in his eyes and his clenched jaw.

Your heart panged. This isn't him.

"I...I know you think..." He warbled, his voice cracking before breaking again.

"I don't think anything, baby boy. It's okay. It's alright. Just breathe for a second for me, okay?"

He slumped pitifully into your embrace, letting himself sob relentlessly into your shoulder. You weren’t exactly sure what to do with his bloodied body other than hold him there, for a moment or two. 

His upper thighs, which you’d expect to be pale and pasty like the rest of his body, were instead covered in shades of reds and pinks where he had freshly harmed himself, and in browns and purples where he had allowed the lines to scar over. 

His arms, too, were covered with these sickeningly familiar scars as well as freshly bloodied lines carved across his flesh. 

He’d definitely been hiding this from you for a while. A long while, at that. 

You whispered in his ear, “Oh, baby...you don’t deserve any of this...”

He clutched at your clothes, balling up the material in his fists.

“you...you wouldn’t say that if...” he let go of you.

 He couldn’t escape it. The scream. The blood. The utter helplessness.

His face.

He hit himself in the head, trying to knock the memory out of his mind.

You grabbed both of his wrists. This utter violence would have scared you anyways, but with it directed towards someone you loved so much, it was terrifying.

“I’ve killed people! They’re dead!” he screamed.

“You didn’t kill anyone, Toshinori! What-”

“No! They-he- died right in front of me!” he sobbed, collapsing into the floor in front of you. 

He gritted his teeth. 

“I couldn’t even show my face at their...at his funeral...” 

You held in your own cry, remembering when it all happened. It was so fast. No one could have predicted it. 

In the end, the boy had saved a classmate, but at the cost of his own life. 

Toshi was at the scene, screaming for him, but it was too late. He was gone in an instant. 

For weeks afterward, he didn’t leave his bedroom. He barely ate. What he did eat was just what you’d nearly force down his throat to keep him breathing. He just laid there, in the bed you shared, with the curtains drawn and his phone turned off, for entirely too long.

It absolutely killed you to see him like this. What killed you more, though, was when the boy’s mom wouldn’t stop calling, texting, and even knocking at the door. She would sob words of forgiveness, begging you to please tell him that she wasn’t angry at him for breaking that promise they made not so long ago. To tell him that something like this would’ve happened even if they’d never met. 

To tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That she didn’t blame him.

But no matter how much she pleaded, you just couldn’t talk to him about it. Whenever you so much as brought up her name, or mentioned anything alluding to...him...Toshi would just break down.

Just like he was now. 

You took his face in both of your palms, gritting your teeth and making him look at you.

He could barely see you holding back tears of your own through his blurred eyes.

“It was not your fault.” You asserted.

“...but-“

“It was not your fault.”

“I could have... he...”

“No. You didn’t kill that boy. Nothing you could’ve done would have stopped what happened from happening.”

Toshinori looked into your eyes, replaying that scene in his mind.

He couldn’t have magically teleported in front of that car. A healing quirk, nor any amount of surgeries or doctors could have undone the severe internal damage that it caused.

It was an utter accident.

He closed his eyes, squeezing the memory out of his brain. The blood was what haunted him the most. It was everywhere. More than he’d ever seen in his entire life, even being a pro hero for a good portion of his life and seeing horrific crimes.

The boy’s eyes glazed over mere moments after the collision, not even able to speak or respond to the rush of people surrounding him. Toshi had to essentially fight his way between the hoards of onlookers to get close to him. To stroke his cheek. To tell him that it was okay to go.

That he was a hero.

That he was proud of him.

He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath and holding your hand to his chest. Your heart ached as you noted his shaky, skinnied fingers.

“You don’t deserve any of this, honey,” you repeated, bringing his head to your chest and stroking his hair. He was done crying. He just needed you.

His breathing calmed down after a good while of keeping him there, just existing with him for these moments without criticism and without judgement.

“Toshi, can you let me clean you up a little?” You murmured. He nodded silently.

“But... please don’t... I-I... just...” he muttered as you stood up.

“I’m not going to judge you, baby. It’s okay. I’m going to make sure you didn’t go too deep, and just help the bleeding stop. I’m not going to judge you for anything,” you assured him. His lower lip quivered and he nodded again. You left, grabbing the first aid kit and a bottle of water.

First, you handed him the water, instructing him to drink. He tried to refuse at first, protesting that he was fine, but after a little coercion, he took a little sip. Later, that sip turned into thirsty gulps. The bottle was nearly empty when he was done.

He was definitely thirstier than he thought.

These days, it was easy to ignore what his body needed. Hunger passed eventually, and so did thirst, and so did pain. Rather than deal with the issue, he’d usually just ride out the discomfort. He just couldn’t find it in him to care anymore.

So, for now, you had to do it for him.

You gently inspected his wounds. You sighed with relief as you noticed that he hadn’t gone deep enough to need a trip to the hospital for stitches.

He winced as the astringent met with his raw flesh, but you were there to soothingly comfort him with gentle touches and praise.

Soon, he was all bandaged up. He looked up at you, reaching for your cheek. He mouthed a thank you before placing a tiny kiss on your other hand. You kissed him on the forehead in return, helping him stand up and walk into the bedroom, assisting him to ease under the comforter and switched off the light before joining him.

You two coiled into one another, each warming the other’s body gently. Your breaths synced up harmoniously as you both drifted into a much needed afternoon nap.

When you woke up, there was no interrogating. No demanding to know where all his razor blades were hidden. No begging him to seek therapy.

You knew what struggling was like. None of that would help in the end. It’d only push him deeper into his own darkness.

So you settled on doing what you felt that you needed when you were in the same place he was: simply being there for him, and being ready with open arms to take on his problems when he couldn’t bear them any longer.

And he couldn’t.

Not on his own, anyways.

———

The next morning, when you woke up, Toshi was waiting for you in the kitchen. He’d already made you your favorite coffee and some honeyed toast.

After you ate, he gently took your hand.

“Will you help me with something?”

You nod, smiling sweetly.

He looked away. Shame burned his soul.

“They’re hidden in the medicine cabinet, in a box all the way in the back. Please, can you... get rid of them for me?” He whispered. You nodded.

“Are there any more?” You gently question. He shook his head, sighing.

“I’m really sorry for all of this trouble I’ve put you through...” he apologized. He was trying his best to stay strong, to appear okay and unbothered, but his voice was already cracking a little.

You shake your head.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m happy I can be here for you. I’m going to go take care of that for you now, okay?”

He nodded.

———

Recovery was slow but steady. You never asked if or when he relapsed, but when he’d lock himself in the bathroom, you couldn’t help but freeze and wonder if he was hurting himself.

But soon, his scars started to heal. He began wearing t shirts again. He started to laugh a little bit more.

And finally, he took Inko’s call.

You didn’t hear their full conversation, and you didn’t wish to eavesdrop. What you did know, though, was how different he was once he hung up from that call that lasted a good three hours.

He was lighter.

It was as if he’d been carrying an earth shattering weight on his back for centuries, and finally was just able to put it down.

He slowly became himself again, the darkness fading away at the touch of the warm sunlight within him.

——

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Warning: This chapter implies dark themes during Hermione’s passage, but it is very briefly mentioned and not graphic. If that bothers you please skip!

Chapter Twenty Seven

Harry’s initial shock seemed to wear by the time they were in the Transfiguration corridor. Before that, Ron had been silent, clear dead set on making it back to the tower unnoticed. 

This wouldn’t seem to be the case as the chosen one came to an abrupt stop. 

“Ron, I know where she is.” He spoke in a broken voice. 

All thoughts suddenly left his head. 

He could give a shit less if Malfoy marched up to them right now and hexed their bollocks off. If the entire Chudley Cannons team flew in and announced they’d won the World Cup, he wouldn’t even bat an eye. 

No, the only thing he could think of right now was Hermione. 

Seeing her again. Looking around a room and knowing she’s safe. Telling her all he wants to say. To hold her...

“W-what?” He chokes after a second. It’s the only coherent thing. 

“Sort of,” Harry adds in a whisper, suddenly feeling sorry for obviously getting Ron’s hopes up. “I’ll explain everything but not here. We need to find Neville and get back to the tower.” 

And if that’s what needed to be done for Ron to get some sort of bloody explanation, then you better believe that’s what he was dead set on now. 

Because of Draco's impromptu appearance at his dorm, they finished earlier than anticipated. Neville was surely still at the pitch doing all he could. Thankfully, they weren’t very far so they jogged outside for him. 

“Neville!” Harry called after spotting him in the stands, waving his arms manically. 

Neville looked shocked at their presence but tried to hide it as he clambered down the stands. 

“Harry, Ron, I thought you still had a half hour? Is everything alright?” He whispered worriedly. 

“Fine, it’s fine. Look, come on, I’ll tell you everything,” his green eyes flicked to Ron’s, “both of you, just not here.” 

Neville nodded anxiously as the three rushed hurriedly back to Gryffindor Tower. Soon enough, they reached their dorm as Ron was ready to burst in anticipation. 

“Okay Harry.” Ron said before Potter could even shut the door. 

He hurriedly ruffled through his robes and smacked the picture atop the nearest surface, someone’s trunk. 

Like before, the ginger can do nothing but stare at it in confusion. 

Neville voices as much, “I don’t understand...” 

Harry’s eyes lock with Ron’s. There’s a fire behind them, one he hasn’t seen since that day he ran after Bellatrix, vowing to avenge Sirius. 

“Do you remember Ron that night at the Burrow. That night it happened, I saw him, I saw Hermione.” He spoke rapidly. 

In response Weasley nodded, “yeah, he came twice. Once right after, once that night.” He recalled. 

“Do you remember what I said? When Mad-Eye asked who was there? What I saw?” He encouraged. 

Ron isn’t keen on the fact Harry’s trying to place guessing games rather than just blurt out an explanation, he supposes he’ll play along. “Yeah, you said it was just a big cold room.” Every detail of that night was burned into his brain and revisited often. 

The raven haired boy nodded in encouragement more than anything else, as he cocked an eyebrow. 

It was evident the chosen one was coaxing something out of him, “And...” he screwed his eyes in thoughts. Harry’s strangled voice echoing in his brain. 

“The only thing I remember was a chandelier. It was the only thing shining in the room, you couldn't miss it.”

“Blimey, a chandelier.” Ron almost laughed. So overcome with a sense of hope on the realization. 

A small smile struck Harry’s lips, “this,” he pointed to the photo, “this was the chandelier I saw.”

“So wherever the chandelier is, that’s where Hermione is, yeah?” Neville voiced, having caught on. 

Harry nodded vigorously. “That’s where I saw her.” 

The excitement that had been bubbling deep within them soon dropped, “only problem is, where is that chandelier.” The brunette Gryffindor whispered. 

At this Ron’s own hope seemed to dwindle a bit, but he wouldn’t let it stay that way for long. No, they were onto something, they had to be. 

Think Ron, think! What would Hermione do, come on...  

It came to him a minute later, “I saw that picture in The Prophet. Over the summer.” 

“Okay...” Harry said not really understanding where this was going. 

“There was an article on the lower corner of the same page. It mentioned Percy. Dad was right pissed off after he read it. He incendioed the damn paper. Said he couldn’t believe his own son was apart of such trash that he was sharing a page with the Malfoy’s.” He explained. 

“Ron?” His friend pushed again. 

“Every article, every picture, in The Prophet article cites a place, an author, a photographer. There has to be something.” 

“Mate you just said it yourself, your Dad set it on fire. Either way, I doubt your folks hoard The Prophet.” Harry reminded sounding a little defeated, but the spark was still evident. 

“You're right, they don’t,” he paused, “but the library does.” 

Neville’s face lit up like it was his Birthday, “he’s right! When we started up the D.A. last year, Hermione and I went through archives from the first war to pull pictures for the board. That’s brilliant Ron!” He exclaimed excitedly. 

They turned to Harry, gaging his reaction. Soon, a grin etched his way onto his lips, “what are we still doing here? Let’s go to the library.” 

They all began racing out. 

“Blimey, spending my night in the library. If only Hermione could see us now.” He whispered to himself. 

...

Her mind may be muddled but she isn’t stupid. Far from it. 

There’s a small crack in the cell next to hers, right on the ceiling. If she strains her ears enough she’s sometimes able to hear what they’re saying. 

“When?” She swears she hears Bellatrix ask. 

“Two nights. I need time to prepare. The Order has been around.” Voldemort hisses. 

“Of course my lord.” Hermione can visualize her bowing in compliance. 

“Until then, not a word of this to the girl, understand?” 

“Yes. Yes, of course. You have my word.” She hears Bellatrix promise. 

Hermione gulps as she hears the cracking of disapparating and stomping of boots from above. 

Painfully, she slinks back into the far corner to rest. It’s an absolute miracle she’s even conscious after everything upstairs. 

Teeth. Nails. His hands, oh god, don’t think- 

She screws her eyes in thought, pulling roughly at her shirt with her less injured hand. 

Her clothes are mangled and tattered. Practically shreds at this point. Her entire body is exposed and that alone makes chills dance along her spine. 

She doesn’t know if the blood covering the expanse of her most personal spots are a good or bad thing. Either way it makes her wretch. 

She hears footsteps come down the steps. The candle flickers on which makes her ease a bit. It only does that when Natali- no, Narcissa, comes down stairs. 

She takes a moment to berate herself. Maybe she’s not as smart as she once thought. 

Stupid, stupid mind, you’re supposed to be brilliant! She scolds, the voice in her head almost sounds like Bellatrix. 

She’s broken from her thoughts as a large clinging of metal practically makes her jump out of her skin. 

Hermione looks up to see the woman with a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in fear. 

Carefully Hermione surveys the room, trying to find what has her in such a state. 

She soon realizes it’s her. This causes her to self consciously throw her arm over her breasts. 

“Oh child, what did they do to you?” She cries out, dropping to her knees. 

The brunette cowers a little at her words, silent tears streak her cheeks. 

Like last night, she can tell Hermione needs comfort now more than ever, as Narcissa thoughtlessly throws open the bars and drops to her knees. 

Welcoming the soothing touch as opposed to the burning she gets when Greyback or anyone else touches her, she falls onto the woman’s shoulder. 

They sit like this for a while. Narcissa strokes her matted, disgusting hair, soothing her. 

It isn’t until Hermione calms down that she realizes Missus Malfoy has thrown her cloak around her frame. 

“They’re planning something. I don’t know what.” Narcissa tells her in an honest whisper, “it won’t be good for you.” She says next. 

And the words should really evoke some terrible fear deep within her, but they don’t. She’s just numb to the pain at this point. 

“Was it worth it?” She pulls away to look at Hermione’s dull, almost lifeless eyes, “was what you did today worth all this?” Narcissa has to know. She’s not patronizing her, she’s just trying to understand. 

Momentarily she can see a spark in the young witch's eyes as she nods. 

“W-worth e-everything.” She stutters out, having trust that Harry was doing something. Anything. 

All the days she’s spent here she’s felt useless. Like some damsel in distress waiting for her prince to come get her out, but today was different. Today she felt like she controlled her own fate, if even a small portion. 

The consequences were dreadful, unbearable, but in that moment when she called for Harry, she felt like herself again. If only for a second. 

She hasn’t felt that way in weeks. 

Narcissa nodded at her words and then returned to hugging her small frame. 

Neither knew that what Hermione did today would cost her nearly everything.

…

Madam Pince gave them no trouble when they requested the archives. Ron imagines it’s pretty empty here considering it’s most common occupant has been away. 

The book is an enchanted one. You tell it a date or just a general period time and it’ll open to the exact copy from the requested time. 

Harry currently had it in front of him at the table. 

“What do we say?” He asked, eyeing it curiously. 

Ron thinks, “well, the article was over the summer. It was after school, but before Hermione arrived. So I reckon it was between a two week period.” He thinks aloud before deciding, “The Daily Prophet, June Twenty-Seventh 1996.” He told it. 

Suddenly it’s pages fluttered to life, lightly ruffling the boys’ hair as it flicked hurriedly. It stopped after a few moments with a large headline labeled, ‘Dumbledore due to Retire after Ministry Break-In!’

“Rubbish.” Neville mumbled reading it. 

Knowing this wasn’t it, he told the book to keep flipping. 

Most of the headlines were shite. All boasting about how wonderful the ministry is, how awful  Hogwarts is, even mentions of Harry. 

‘The Boy Who Lies, Again!’ The title for June thirtieth read with a picture of Harry from the Ministry. 

Upon seeing that, Ron only hurried his calls to the book. 

“Next day!” Nope. “Next Day!” Another page down. 

Just as he prepared to call for it to move on, Neville yelled out, “stop!” 

His blue eyes peeled from Harry and to the book. In front of them sat the picture of the Malfoy’s, above it read ‘Malfoy Mentality’ in thick capital letters. 

For good measure Harry shakily held up the photo from the dorm next to it. 

A complete match. 

Wordlessly, the three moved closer and anxiously began to read the contents of the article. 

It was a load of rubbish. Just going on and on about how the Malfoy’s manage to remain so respectable during these times (their words not his). A few quotes from Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were also sprinkled about. 

Ron can’t say he was shocked when the whole article was written by one Rita Skeeter. Even more maddening, not once did they talk about wherever the hell that picture was. 

Next, he flashed his eyes to the photo in question, squinting to make out the small font underneath it. 

Photographed by-

“Balthasar Bartolo Brimblehawk!” Neville yells out, causing someone to shush him from nearby. 

He flushes red and drops into a whisper, “Brimblehawk, I know him.” He tells them. 

“You do?” Harry asked, astonished at their luck. It’s almost as if they raised Slughorn’s stash of Felix Felicis prior to coming here. 

He nods a little madly, “he was a big deal way back then, with The Order and all. Those pictures, the ones we had from the D.A. I reckon he took all of those.” 

“Then why the hell is he now taking pictures of the Malfoy’s?” Ron asks before he can help it. 

Neville goes on, “he took my parents wedding photos, my Gran’s too. He even took some photos of me when I was little, my Gran owl’s him from time to time. Last Easter she was having tea with Mrs.Criswell and I heard them talking. I mean normally it’s just gossip mind you, you know about other women or-“

“Neville.” Ron says gently, trying to steer him on track.  

“Right. Sorry.” He says, “anyway, I zoned in because they mentioned You-Know-Who. When The Prophet had their little, uh, change, they wanted only the best. Brimblehawk is the best photographer for this type of thing I reckon, war times and all.” 

“But?” Harry interjected knowing it was coming. 

Sadly, Neville nodded, “but, apparently he refused to be a part of it. Next day his shop was broken into, ransacked. They never said who it was, of course one can only assume...” he trailed, “scared for him and his grandkids, he agreed to do work for them. Reckon he didn’t have much of a choice.” 

“Bugger.” Ron mumbled. He wasn’t naive, he knew how wars worked. His Mum lost her brothers to the last one, but it didn’t make the fact innocent people. People like Brimblehawk, like Hermione, were paying the prince. 

“Last I heard he stills develops photos from time to time down at his shop, he lives above it. Heard he takes less pictures now because of everything, plus he’s rather old, probably around Dumbledore’s age now.” Neville finished with a shrug. 

“And could you get in contact with him? Your Gran maybe?” Harry questioned anxiously. 

He sighed and shook his head, “If I sent an owl he’d surely be confused, tell me Gran and all. Then my Gran would demand answers, well, you know how that goes. I don’t wanna ruin this whole thing, it’s a bit of a secret.” 

“Yeah a bit.” Ron scoffed sarcastically. 

The dark haired boy monetarily glared at his friend, “okay, so that’s out of question, I think face to face interaction would be best. Where’d you say his shop was?” He asked. 

Neville looked a little defeated, “I didn’t. It’s in Diagon Alley.” 

“Diagon Alley! The next time we’ll be allowed over there is Easter holidays. I can’t wait that long!” Ron exclaimed in a harsh whisper. 

“I know, shite.” Harry mumbled, nibbling nervously on his finger nails. 

“Maybe someone else could? I mean, you guys said McGonagall and Dumbledore-“ the brunette started. 

“No.” Harry dismissed, “they’d ask too many questions. If too many people knew, word could get back to whoever has her. They could move her. We need someone who understands how important this is. Someone who knows Hermione as more than the Brightest Witch of our Age.” 

“Who?” Neville asks after a moment, thinking the chosen one was onto something. 

Harry didn’t speak, but Ron did. 

“Fred and George.”

Okay so pt2 of this, (pt 3 here and then here’s pt 4) didn’t want to reblog since it was already getting too long. But here goes thoughts on this AU for the rest of s2:

So yeah, imagine Buck and Eddie having all that history going into s2. Imagine Buck still being struck dumb when he sees Eddie changing at the station that first day, completely speechless when his brain finally connects face to memory. Imagine Eddie having so much turmoil over the feelings that spark up at seeing his old teammate again, having Buckley back at his side. It makes Eddie’s transition to the team go a lot smoother in the long run, although there’s still a bit of a rough patch that first shift.

(So Eddie is a still little peeved when he recognizes Buckley, and he can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice when he makes a quip about not abandoning this team, Buckley immediately shutting down at the disapproval and getting defensive. But then there’s the call with the ambulance, and Eddie is thrown back in the field with Buckley by his side on one of those rare good days of his, and Eddie is sure of the man flanking him when they’re climbing into the ambulance together. They manage to handle the explosive and no one dies, and at the end when Eddie is smiling too bright and clapping a shoulder saying, “You can still have my back any day, Buckley,” and too-blue eyes shine back with, “Buck. Call me Buck. And you—you can have mine too” and a grin that has Buckley’s—Buck, Buck, Buck’s—lips splitting wide.)

Imagine how differently Buck would grow as a character. He learned his lesson about where he belongs a little too late in this AU, and imagine the potential for how much Buck would mourn every life he wasn’t able to save when he was active. Imagine how heavy it laid on his shoulders every time he had to pull the trigger, imagine how deeply he must have been hiding from his father’s disappointment in him if he let himself get pulled so far off from his own moral track to make it as far as he did while on active duty.

Buck still has a streak of promiscuity after he gets discharged, because Eddie’s words may have been enough to subdue him in their company but not where all those rules couldn’t touch him anymore. I sincerely think Buck still needs to have his Abby arc, it’s such a good arc for him imo even though I wish there was more closure at the end. So when Eddie shows up and tumbles back into his life, Buck is a little more willing to move on out of Abby’s apartment at a more reasonable pace.

He struggles a little less with coping over being ghosted, or rather realizing he’s the ghost or whatever, because he sees a potential place for him to belong and jumps at it. (Which would still need to be addressed eventually, this perpetual need of Buck’s to be useful to prove his own worth to himself and everyone, constantly.) Ohhh and imagine how much more the Earthquake episode would hit with Buck’s absolute resolution to get Eddie home to not just a picture of a little boy, but full-fleshed Christopher who Buck has been a fan of ever since he talked Eddie down into just accepting that little boy into his life and letting that be enough, even when Christopher was only a faceless name through stories in the desert. Imagine how much more would be behind that already relieved longing Buck showed in the scene where Eddie holds Chris at the school.

And it just makes sense, really—Buck reassures himself repeatedly—that Buck moves in with Eddie and Chris after things settle back down. At this point Eddie has made it clear how much he’s struggling with the childcare issues with being a single dad and Buck finds himself hiding from lonely nights by hanging out with his two favorite Diaz’s more often than not these last few months. When some of the rest of the team express concern—mostly through jokes, mind you, like comments about “lovebirds moving too fast” and other inane shit like that—over it, Buck’s ready with a stupid, rehearsed presentation to Eddie about why being roommates would be beneficial to “all parties involved, c’mon Eddie it’s not ‘just the two of us, you idiot’ Chris is a party too!”, with a large portion of it all dedicated to how Buck would be useful in sharing household duties and can help watch Christopher on Eddie’s work days if they’re not on shift together.

Already Eddie is feeling pretty persuaded but then Buck ends this whole spiel with a check towards his phone and a really vague mention of a friend coming over to meet them, and right on time the doorbell rings and in walks the biggest personality Eddie never knew he needed in his life. Carla is fantastic off the bat, and when Buck mentions near the end that Carla would help him no matter what he decided regarding the roommate situation, of course, Eddie is blinking so dumbly at Buck he nearly has to shake himself back to normal.

Because imagine how different it’s been for Eddie. Getting home to his parents already defensive on him getting to parent his own child, how hard he tries to stay with them as long as possible because everyone says that’s what best for Christopher after being abandoned by both parents, can’t you see he needs the stability only we can provide him? Until one day he sees an opportunity to start fresh and he grabs at it with flailing fingers, and Christopher is the only light in this dark as shit tunnel they seem to be stuck in.

But then in comes Buck, and Eddie learns a good lesson about letting people back into his life. Imagine how much relief there must have been the moment Eddie realizes an old partner was going to be by his side in this terrifying transition in Eddie’s life, not only at work but also taking some of the burden of parenthood off Eddie’s shoulders like it weighs nothing at all. Imagine how much Eddie needed that kind of stability around this time.

So imagine Eddie calling the whole presentation dumb after Carla leaves but rolling his eyes with a smile and Buck knows he got em, and just grins and asks too brightly, “yeah??” and Eddie can’t help but smile and tell him there’s no one else he’d rather be roommates with too much affection to be strictly teasing. And from the warmth in Buck’s eyes he can read that affection with ease, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just smiles and starts planning the move excitedly.

Imagine s2 progressing the same, except now Buck and Eddie are 10x more comfortable with each other and god. Can you imagine the room for angst and emotional exploration with Shannon coming back into Eddie’s life with Buck already so ingrained in it? How Eddie would be torn towards wanting to try and fit back into the picture of what a happy family and marriage had always looked to him, but everything aching in him to lean towards Buck and the beginnings of their little sketched out family with Chris.

Imagine Buck trying to distance himself out of respect for Eddie and his marriage because he in no way wants to come in between Eddie and anything that would make him and Christopher happy; he’s firmly resolved if that means Shannon back in their lives, then so be it. But Eddie surprises him with the decision to limit contact with his wife—tells her that she can be part of Christopher’s life once she’s proven she can be trusted not to disappear, but that Eddie didn’t want anything beyond what’s necessary.

(Imagine Christopher getting to keep his mom and get his Buck too, because hey, we don’t have to kill off women to give men more backstory in this AU.)

Imagine Buck taking this as a step toward something he realizes he’s craving from Eddie: more. Imagine the soft touches and questioning looks and the longing that’s possible with all the domestic scenes after this. Imagine the fire fam getting absolutely insufferable with comments. But then there’s everything with Maddie and there’s not much time to consider anything beyond that. And then—then there’s the Accident and we go into s3, which I also have some Thoughts on.

Treasure in the Brine

Fandom: Inuyasha Rating: PG-13 / Teen and Up  Warning: Heavy petting Status: Work in Progress Pairing: KogKag Summary: "I'm still a sailor at heart. Your scales... they remind me of the ocean. Waves lapping at an empty shore." He wet his lips, drawn to the strings of misshapen pearls hanging around her neck. "Bits of treasure hidden in the depths, waiting to be claimed on the ocean floor."

Find it on: AO3

Series: Mermaid AU Tumblr Tags: #kogkag #inuyasha #mermaid au

Made Things

Mermaid Kagome

"You are really pretty. It's kind of ridiculous."

The mermaid laughed. The sound sang through his blood. "You're handsome enough, for a sailor. What are you doing out here? Don't you know the legends?"

"About mermaids and sirens singing sailors into the rocks? Yeah, I know." Kouga turned his head, tapping next to his ear canal. "Ear plugs. They're made from tree sap deep in the mainland. Lessens the effects your voices have on us."

"Is that so?" Her smile was sly but playful, pulling herself up to his level on the sides of his boat. "So if I sang you a tune, you could ignore me?"

"Oh I didn't say that." His smirk stretched wide. "I could deaf, blind, and dumb and I'd still be drawn to you. You're the perfect temptation."

The mermaid hummed, slipping back into the water. She didn't fully submerge, having crossed her arms over the edge to keep herself up. Her eyes seemed to dim in the sun, if only just. "Like every mermaid out there, huh?"

"Don't remember saying that either." Blue orbs caught his, suspicious and surprised. "Pretty sure 'you're the perfect temptation' is exactly what I said."

"So you did." His mermaid smiled again, fanged teeth biting her lip. "And why is that? The others are just as pretty as I am. More even, depending on the ones you're looking at."

Kouga's cheeks flushed, smirk softening to a bashful smile. "I'll tell you, but you'll laugh. It's silly."

That only seemed to make her more excited. "Tell me. Tell me tell me tell me."

The sun burnt sailor ducked his chin to his chest as he laughed. Looking up, he let his chin rest in his hand. "It's your coloring." Her snort was as cute as she was. "I mean it!"

The mermaid quirked a dark brow. "Black hair, pale skin?"

"No, not that." He nodded to the water behind her. "Your tail."

She blinked at him, stunned. "My tail?" She looked back, but Kouga chose to focus on the sun shining off her scales. They covered most of her upper torso, cresting just above the smooth curve of her breasts. They were iridescent shades of emerald green and black teal, speckled with flecks of bronze and gold. A combination of all his favorite things.

The mermaid was staring at him when he looked back to her face, biting her lip and clearly amused. He hadn't tried to hide his perusal of her, a fact she seemed to appreciate.

"Tell me sailor," she crooned, voice sweet as angels. "What is it you like so much about the color of my tail?"

"It suits you, for one." Kouga reached out, miming the movement of sliding his fingers over her sides without really touching her. He may have been weak to her music, but he wasn't that much of an idiot. "Help you blend in with your natural surroundings and all that."

She snorted, clearly displeased with his answer. Snickering, he gave her what she wanted instead. "I may not be a pirate, but I'm still a sailor at heart. Your scales... they remind me of the ocean. Waves lapping at an empty shore." He wet his lips, drawn to the strings of misshapen pearls hanging around her neck. "Bits of treasure hidden in the depths, waiting to claimed on the ocean floor. You're just..." his smile turned shy, thumb running over his mouth. "You're beautiful."

The longer he spoke, the rosier her cheeks became. His mermaid's earlier displeasure had faded to a soft wonder, lips parted in awe.

"I've... No sailor has ever described me that way before."

He huffed a breathless laugh, not bothering to change position when he realized how close they were. "Drag a lot of sailors down to the brine, do you?"

"Sometimes," she told him honestly, raising herself once more to his level. "Never for me though. The others always claim the sailors they want because of how lovely they are. For a mermaid I'm thought plain."

"To an idiot, maybe. You're not even close to 'plain.'" Kouga's voice softened the closer she came, his whole posture relaxing in her space. "You going to take me down there with you? A sailor all your own?"

His mermaid bit her lip, blue orbs tracking the laps of the waves against his boat. Nervous, she met his gaze. "I should, but I don't want to. I'm young in their eyes even though I'm past my 300th year. The others... They'll take one look at you and try to steal you away."

"And we wouldn't want that, would we?" His fingers itched, wanting to know the softness of her skin.

"No," her eyes shone a deep, sapphire blue. "No, we don't."

He had to swallow before he could speak again. "So what do we do? You swim your way, I sail mine?"

"Well... There is one thing we could do. If you wanted."

Surprised, he straightened. "Tell me? I'm listening."

His clear intent eased her. "Have you ever caught a mermaid?"

His mouth hung agape as he tried to adequately find a way to explain the impossibility of such a statement. Clearly the look on his face was more than a little stupid, if her laughter was any true indication. "That's... that's not possible. You can't catch a mermaid. They won't let you."

"Yes, that!" Hey eyes were bright, excited. "Think about what you just said. Say it again."

"You..." No, he still didn't understand. "You can't catch a mermaid."

"Why can't you? You just said it."

"You can't catch a mermaid because..." It hit him, and he was surprised at the realization. "You can't catch a mermaid because they won't let you."

"So," the word was drawn out, a teasing lit. "What if I let you?"

"You want me to catch you?" Bemused, he tilted his head. "And what am I supposed to do with a captive mermaid? I don't have a net big enough for a fish trap, let alone anything strong enough to hold you." He cast a brief nod to her tail. "And that's not exactly a pair of legs."

"I'll have human legs by the time we get back to land."

"Somehow, I don't believe you." He grinned when she smacked his chest, glad she understood his playfulness. "I mean, that's a lot of tail."

"And just think, you haven't even seen all of it."

"Can I? See all of it?" She looked surprised. "If that's not crossing some kind of line. I don't mean to offend."

She bit her lip on a smile, unendingly pleased. "You are very courteous, for a human male."

"You can thank my mother for that. She made it a point to beat some manners into my head when I was young."

"A wise woman, if there ever was one." His mermaid slipped back into the water while she clung to the sides, hiding all but her eyes from his view. "I will give you a trade. That is how humans do things, isn't it?"

"There's a bit more to it than that, but that's about the gist of it."

"Then we will trade!" The idea seemed to excite her. "I will let you see the rest of my tail, in exchange for your name."

Kouga tried to recall any legends he'd heard about sailors giving a mermaid their names. Thankfully, none immediately came to mind. "What will you do with my name, once you have it?"

"I'll call you by it, instead of calling you a 'silly man' in my head."

He snorted a laugh, and her grip tightened on his boat.

"So? Will you tell me your name?"

"I'll tell you," he dropped his hand from his chin, letting it hang between his legs. "But humans don't see underwater as well as mermaids do. I won't be able to appreciate your tail to its fullest extent."

"You let me worry about that. I'll make sure you see."

"It's Kouga then, miss maid," he finally told her, having come up with no reason to do otherwise. "A lowly sailor, tempted still by your beauty."

Her smile was pleased. With a quick push, she drew herself up again, meeting him face to face. The full length of her scaled torso was exposed to him, blue-black hair clinging to her shoulders. A band of shells kept wet bangs from falling in her face, sitting on his head like a crown.

"You'll have to lift me from the water," her voice woke him from his stupor, looking away from the drops of ocean water that slid enticingly over her scales. "I'm heavier than you think. But I won't let us tip over."

"R-right." He swallowed lightly, trying to focus on what she was saying. "Do I lift you by your arms then?"

"My arms?" She looked confused before she realized what he meant. "Oh, no, nothing like that. I'll put my arms around your neck, and you'll lift me from the water by my tail."

"By your tail. Right. So bridal style." Did bringing her into the boat count as carrying her over the threshold? He wasn't sure.

She didn't bother to let him finish his internal questions. One of her arms encircled his neck, and his body seemed to suddenly move on its own. Kouga had caught his fair share of large fish over the years, he knew how heavy they could be. But the boat was steady beneath his feet, as if he were standing on a shore.

His brain was probably screaming at him somewhere in the dark to be more cautious. No matter what she promised, the young woman in his arms was still a mermaid. Still a siren. And his foolish self was half leaning out of the boat to lift her over its edge.

His mermaid made no move to drag him beneath the surface. She only waited for him to adjust her in his grip, keeping a portion of her weight braced on the boat's side.

He resettled on the plank, pulling her to sit in his lap. He tried to be mindful of her large dorsal fin, smoothing it to the side so there would be no awkward weight on it. She curled into his chest to get comfortable, her fingers tangled in the strands of her pearls during his quiet perusal.

The full view of her tail was a gift to behold. She had five fins in total, each of a varying size. Her caudal fin was by far the largest, floating gently beneath the wave. Her pelvic fins sat parallel to the first dorsal, the one he'd moved for her comfort. The second dorsal sat just above the caudal peduncle. Each fin started as a bright yellow green where they met her scales, fading into dark sea foam.

But it was the colors of her scales themselves that repeatedly caught his attention. Near her caudal fin, floating just beneath the surface, the green of her scales was so dark they looked almost black, even in the sun. There was a patch of discolored scales there, bronze and gold that reminded him of treasure chests filled with gold. The green lightened then, covered by large patches of emerald-black scales and small scatterings of bronze and gold.

There were no words in any language he knew that would do her beautiful form justice.

"Like I said," his lips brushed over the crown of her head. The words didn't exist, but he would never let her think herself as anything less than perfect. "Exquisite."

He couldn't see her face, but he felt her smile against the warm skin of his neck. Mindful of her fins and gills, he let his fingers glide over the shimmering scales beneath them. Watching them sparkle, catching the light.

Her lips brushed the underside of his jaw, and he felt a rising heat bloom in his blood.

"So," carefully, he traced the edges of a pelvic fin. "What name am I to call my captive mermaid?"

"You'll have to give me one. Sailors always give mermaids their human names."

The thought bothered him for reasons he couldn't explain. "Do I need to? What about your real name?"

"You want to keep me, don't you?" Her nose brushed his, taloned fingers hovering a hair's breadth from his lips. "If you want to keep me, you have to give me a human name."

She was so close. Close enough to kiss. "What..." Kouga closed his eyes, trying to see through the fog in his head. "What happens if you change your mind? If you decide you want to go back?" Playing at capture was one thing. He didn't really want her trapped.

"I won't, silly man."

"But you might." He covered her hand with his, kissing the fingers backs. "I wouldn't want you unhappy."

"Please?" Her voice was a soft whisper, a quiet plea. She begged. "Please, give me a name?"

Every press of her cool body was making him burn. His arms were full of her, the weight of her filling his lap. She was right. there. And he was so, so tempted...

Her lips brushed his. A feather-light kiss.

He gave in.

"Ka-go-me."

He surged upwards, claiming her mouth with his. Tongues tangled and fought, his large hands encompassing her scaled back, her talons tearing holes where she gripped his shirt. Liquid fire boiled his blood, demanding more as he dominated their kiss. She was every temptation he was powerless to resist.

Her soft, feminine whimper was answered with a rumbling moan. He pulled her down with him to the bottom of his boat, spreading his legs to accommodate for the shift of their weight. The crux of where her tail and torso met settled over his hips, shifting glorious weight over his rapidly filling dick.

A heady groan burst from his lips, and it took her barely a moment to understand what caused it. Her smile was wicked, tail flexing with fluctuating pressure while she dove back into their kiss.

His every moan was interspersed with desperate curses and gasps of her new human name. Her answering keens were quiet hums against his lips that were slowly driving him to the brink.

He finally broke, pulling it lungfuls of salt-sea air. "You keep doing that and I'm going to make us tip."

Her giggle made him grin; he let his hands settle at her waist. "Would that really be so bad?"

Kouga lifted his head, trying to peer over the sides of boat. He would end up with permanent crick at this rate. "I don't know, you tell me."

"Weeell... maybe." Ceeding his point, she slid from her place between his legs and laid next to him on her side. Her fingers traced the lines of his face, eyes shining and light. "Kouga."

He answered her with a smile, slipping close to nip the edge of her lip. "Kagome."

He smirked when she giggled, stealing himself another kiss. The fire in his blood now glowed a warming ember. It let him savor this.

No one would ever believe him if he told the truth, but he could be selfish. He wouldn't tell; the less people knew, the better. They'd come up with something when they got back to shore. The real truth he would take to his grave.

That the only way a man caught a mermaid... was if she let you.

🍬Sour Skittles: Part Two 🍬

Sour Skittles

WELCOME TO GLASSCLAW! The only city where you can get a homecooked meal and a hitman all on the same street! You moved to GlassClaw for a fresh start after a group of raiders invaded your previous compound. Unbeknownst to you, the city has its own collection of riff raff and, at the head of it all is your neighbor Min Yoongi. The mischevious merchant with one hell of a sailor mouth is known for swindling the rich and, serving the poor. The world has become convoluted and chaotic since the apocalypse but, two things were certain: You were so much more than pretty face and, Yoongi was so much more than just a thief.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: I got really inspired to do a little update for this after watching a ton of videos about the French Revolution lmao. I hope you guys like it!

Genre: Dystopian Au, RobinHood! Yoongi, smut, fluff, minor angst, post apocalyptic au

The heat is unbearable. 

It sticks to you like a thick and intrusive warm cloak.

You’re spread eagle on your mattress, completely naked except for a pair of underwear and, a loose fitting t shirt. The idea of fabric clinging to you is revolting enough to make you wretch and, you’re now seriously considering taking another cold shower.

This would be your third one today.

Fuck AstroLex honestly.

The hegemonic superpower that runs Glassclaw shut off everyone’s AC as punishment for the recent raid of one of their many storage places.

The Underground is clearly responsible but, AstroLex lacks the evidence to bindict anyone. This was usually the case, the raiders who worked for The Underground are too good and, they usually commit their robberies without a trace.

This isn’t the first time AstroLex has implemented a city-wide punishment, last winter they turned off the heating for 6 days which led to a dozen people nearly dying of hypothermia.   

They didn’t care though. Their message had been received, their debts had been collected and, they could continue in their world.

Unapologetically unbothered.

AstroLex made an announcement earlier this morning that the AC would be turned off until further notice and, you assumed this meant until the raiders were turned in.

You audibly groan as you feel more sweat forming on the back of your neck, the feeling nearly vomit-inducing. The only way you knew to alleviate your suffering would be to live in your freezer and, given that it’s much too small, you concede that your only option is a slow and painful death.

A knock at your door interrupts you both in it’s volume and it’s intensity. Another pained groan passes your lips as you drag yourself off of your bed. The knocking gets more persistent as you make your way to the door.

“I’m coming!” You call, annoyed at the intrusion.

Swinging the door open, you are met with the one person who could make your day more difficult: Min Yoongi.

“Took you long enough…” He smirks, leaning against your door frame. His minty green hair is dripping wet and, he’s dressed in only a gray pair of torn jeans, black boxers peeking over the band of them.

“Don’t you own a shirt?”

He snickers, “It’s a thousand degrees outside, do you want me to die of heat exhaustion?”

“Definitely not, I’d loose out on my reward, they raised it again today…$40,000…” You cross your arms, fighting the smile that’s trying to take over your lips.

Turns out, your suspicions regarding your neighbor had been correct. Yoongi was forced to out himself as an Underground worker when the AstroLex police had launched a full on investigation in your environ. In a desperate attempt to maintain his freedom, Yoongi came banging on your door at 3am, begging you not to turn him into the authorities. Yoongi belonged to a particularly stealthy and ruthless group of raiders known appropriately as “Robin Hoods.” So far, the Robin Hoods had been responsible for nearly 60% of all successful raids done on AstroLex’s resources and, given that their operations were so seamless, the police hadn’t been able to bring a single member in for questioning. However, AstroLex did announce a citywide call for intel which promised a hefty reward to anyone who had information regarding the group.

“I’m certainly worth more than $40,000, those bastards…” His eyes scan over you briefly, glinting with mischief, “You look like a drowned rat…”

You scoff, pushing against his bare chest, “Fuck you…”

He snickers again, nimble fingers clutching at your wrists, holding them against his chest, “I’m kidding, c’mon, I missed you…”

He’s so full of shit…

You roll your eyes at him, playfully tugging your hands away, “You missed me so much you came pounding on my door only to call me a drowned rat?”

“I’ve undergone a lot of childhood trauma, sweetheart, forgive me, I have hard time expressing my emotions…” He explains with a dramatic flair to his voice, slowly starting to lean in towards your lips.

“You’re shameless. “ You open your door wider, silently inviting him inside, “Did you bring what I asked for?”

Yoongi purses his lips through his smirk before shuffling into your apartment, “Are you referring to the stupid salt that I nearly died for? Yes, I brought what you asked for…”

He reaches into his canvas bag, pulling out a plastic box containing your requested item: Rock salt.

Eagerly, you take the box from his hands, already excited to utilize the stolen good which left Yoongi feeling very confused.

“The fuck do you need rock salt for anyway? Can’t you just use the stuff in a bottle?” He shuffles his bag back over his bare shoulder and, you shamelessly allow your eyes to ogle at the movements of Yoongi’s sinewy chest muscles.

“I use that salt for cooking but,” You move around him to make you’re way over to your fridge before pulling out a bottle of fresh cream, you’d bought from the a local dairy farm not far from your apartment.  “I’m using this one for homemade ice cream…the store bought stuff just isn’t the same.”

Yoongi wants to scoff at your response because; quite frankly he finds it a little ridiculous but, he doesn’t scoff, instead, he feels rather enamored. The modern world leaves very little room for a luxury like nostalgia but, for whatever reason, he feels a lot of it when he’s around you, you remind of him his past life….before everything went to shit.

“Are you making enough to share?” He smirks, hopping on your counter, his dirty combat boots scuffing against the wood.

“I’m not sharing anything with you if you don’t get off my counter…” You grumble, pushing against his jean clad leg, causing Yoongi to snicker as he obliges, choosing to lean back against the granite. “But yeah, I’ll make enough to share—you have to take some to Namjoon too though.”

“He’s lactose intolerant…”

You stop what you’re doing to throw a deadpan Yoongi’s way which only causes his mouth to twitch, a smirk threatening to break through, “I literally saw him shoving cheese pizza down his throat the other night. Share with him or you get nothing…”

Yoongi chuckles again, holding his hands up to concede with you, “Fine, I’ll share but, don’t expect it to be an even split. Namjoon’s job isn’t nearly as demanding as mine, I need my strength…”

With a roll of your eyes, you assemble some of the ice cubes into a large ceramic bowl, eyeing the dish rack for a spoon, “Do you even a day job or, are you a full time renegade?”

With a nod of his head he responds, his hand musing through his hair again, “I work at Electric Eel’s on the weekends…”

The fact that Yoongi works at a strip club shouldn’t affect you but, an odd sensation rolls through your stomach as you think of all of the beautiful women he must work with.

“The strip club right? How’s that going for you?”

Yoongi smirks again because, apparently, that’s the only facial expression he’s capable of, “It goes ok. I literally only wear a leather vest and leather pants so, the tips are pretty fucking good. Plus…I get to work with a bunch of hot people so, it’s a good gig.”

You swallow around a dry throat, trying very hard not to picture bartender Yoongi in an all leather outfit but, obviously you fail.

“Sounds like it…” You affirm casually, dumping a sizeable portion of ice cubes into a metal cylinder. “Do you know Jungkook?”

Yoongi tilts his head for a moment before nodding, “Yeah yeah, young kid right? He’s a dancer there…wait how do you know him?”

It’s your turn to smirk now, memories of Jungkook currently running an assault on your brain, “Uh…he’s an old friend of mine. Last I heard he got a job there so, I figured you would know him…”

Yoongi’s stomach tightens now, the smirk on your face telling him everything he didn’t want to know, “Just a friend?”

A flurry of butterflies courses through your gut as you think of all the fun you and Jungkook used to have, “Just friends yeah…”

There’s a bit of silence that moves between the two of you as Yoongi admires the way you lie to him.

He kind of wants to be a secret of yours too…

“Don’t worry…I hooked up with him too. He’s a hell of a lay…” Yoongi chuckles, his eyes alit with mischief and memories of his own.

The feel in your stomach drops lower now, towards the place between your legs. The bit of information Yoongi just shared certainly isn’t what you’re expecting but, you’d be lying if you said that thoughts of Yoongi and Jungkook together didn’t do a number on your resolve.

“He sure is…stamina for days…” You giggle, trying to center your thinking towards more appropriate topics, “Do you think they’ll turn the air on this week?”

Yoongi notices your hasty subject change but, he decides not to pester you, at least not for the moment, “Probably not. There was an uprising in Ricketts yesterday --I think Astro is worried we’re going to do the same. Gotta keep the leash tight…”

The news surprises you, there hadn’t been an uprising in your area of the world in quite some time. The last one, occurred four years ago in the nearby compound of Amex and, ended in a bloody battle that took the lives of nearly 2,000 people; the compound’s government executed the resistance leaders during a public broadcast.

Rebellion seemed less appealing after that but clearly, the fear of retaliation is quickly wearing off…

“Really? I had no idea…I didn’t hear anything about it, were they successful?”

An honest smile actually presents itself across Yoongi’s lips as he nods, knowing full well what Rickett’s victory could mean, “They overthrew their council. AstroLex sent in reinforcement but, their resistance held em off, they retreated this morning…”

This causes your eyes to widen, “Are you serious? That’s unbelievable, how did you hear about this? There’s no way they would have put this in the broadcast…”

Yoongi leans in, his eyes darting around your kitchen, lowering his voice significantly, “Don’t you find it strange that AstroLex is offering 40,000 for a bunch of petty thieves?”

He has a point.

AstroLex is worth millions.

But if he’s not just a thief…then what is he?

“Do you know something the public doesn’t?” You offer, trying to conceal your intense curiosity.

Yoongi grins, his brown eyes glimmering with something you haven’t seen in over a decade: hope, “Let’s just say…the Ricketts rebellion is the first of many. Sooner or later, AstroLex will meet the same fate…”

His words fuel your bleeding heart but, you have to be careful. You can’t get wrapped up in promises, you’ve made that mistake before.

“Resistance...” You breathe and, Yoongi doesn’t allow his grin to fade, “Do you really think it’s possible?”

“Would you join if it was?”

Looking up at your neighbor, you muster all of the sincerity and passion you can manage, holding the depth of his gaze as you respond,

“I’d join regardless…”

>> Back on my AU bullshit today we have my take on Shadow Akechi (which, newsflash, isn’t a very creative take hjfh)

>> I’ll be describing pretty much everything under the cut as to save space and not clog up your dash or explore :)

>> And fair warning, there are spoilers to Persona 5 under the cut. IDK why I have to say this since the games been out for like 3 years, but people ask me to warn spoilers anyways SO

Also warning, it’s pretty much me trying to make Akechi Good so if you aren’t an Akechi fan I would just keep scrolling fjhdsjfh

>> SO BAsically we all know he was planned to have a castle-palace so I played off that idea and scrounged up a page of doodles. I modelled his palace off of Buckingham Palace so I’ve been calling it Akechi’s Palace since there’s already a Castle in the canon game.

>> The shadows are designed off the Queen’s Guard and have blindfolds instead of masks, which plays into Akechi’s Justice Arcana. There would probably be like 2-3 types of shadows, including guard, maids inside the castle, and butlers.

>> The palace is in the middle of a large city which is covered in TV screens and media outlets, all of which would be playing recordings of his TV appearances. The palace itself is surrounded by a tall, sharp, and possibly electric fence which keeps out the general public, which Akechi sees as faceless figures. There are large crowds of people surrounding the palace at all points of the infiltration and are mostly comprised of interviewers, press, and media hosts and fans. (The palace would be post-Okumura when Akechi regains support.) The fence which surrounds the palace is large and creates a large empty space which would insinuate that Akechi feels isolated despite the attention he receives.

>> I had a lot of trouble coming up with keywords for Akechi, but I said “eff it” and came up with some bullshit. The first keyword is obviously his name, Goro Akechi. His distortion plays off his ‘special complex’ and would most likely have something to do with ‘remarkability’ or ‘uniqueness’ or something which would put him in control- something that would also foil off of his canon dialogue before his fate at the end of his confidant. The last word, being the place of the distortion, is Akechi himself. There is no one specific place I feel Akechi would see distortion, except within himself. In Futaba’s case, she was trapped in her room, however, Akechi gets out A LOT. I think he’d see any problems he had and whatever complexes he burdened within himself, and consider them completely self-contained. If it weren’t himself, it would be a concept like the media or press instead.

>> Akechi, the main man himself, is regarded as ‘Prince Akechi’ in his palace and has a very pleasant and almost snarky/childish demeanour upon first contact in the game. He welcomes the thieves into his court and is surprised to find anyone visiting him, and attempts to make small talk with them. Even in his most raw and honest state of being, Akechi is still very two-faced and is naturally a people-pleaser during the first phase of his palace. When you eventually tell him your intentions to steal his treasure, he ushers the thieves by saying “By all means, Thieves, you may certainly try.” 

He’s very charismatic, as you’d expect from Akechi, and scarily accurate to the real deal, however when you reach the second phase of his palace he becomes very cold, distant, and vulgar.

>> The palace would begin like any other, and your main infiltration point would be from a side room/kitchen in the back of the palace. You’d run through a good portion of it and see a lot of his distortion when it comes to the media, and how he sees it all wrapped under his finger and submitted to him. You’ll see how he sees the people of Japan who blindly followed the Thieves and his own words, and how little he thinks of people in general, like serfs or plebians. A very prideful display, and how his ego is fueled by the stupidity of the public. It would also insinuate all of the faked investigations that he undertook during pre-game instances.

However, once you reach a certain part of the Palace, you would begin to see a shift due to his two-faced nature. More information regarding his mother, father, and his situation become apparent as you travel further into the heart of his palace. His guilts, regrets, and his chaotic nature would be revealed as you come across his cognitive memories of what happened in his childhood. 

This part of the palace would be presided with Loki, and would very much represent all of his anxieties, guilt, and regressions as a person. (I have headcanonned for the longest time that Loki is more or less a manifestation of his anxieties and hatred and therefore only amplifies that- while Robin Hood is a manifestation of his ego and his guilt and only serves to amplify that.) This section of his palace would showcase everything.

Everything beyond this point would be treated in hushed whispers within the whole ‘prince/palace’ theme, like some sort of scandal (think like, gossiping court and such. very European drama) and it might even touch on the Prince being a bastard, and how Akechi sees even those close to him in operation will eventually turn on him, including the Thieves themselves. 

Yes, that’s right boys, there are cognitive versions of the thieves in this palace. The cognitive people who are shown to be within the Palace are people Akechi considers to be his own confidants in his own operations, including Sae, the SUI director, Shido, etc. you get the idea. He considers the Thieves to also be apart of this ring, and they are rather close to his heart/treasure, which could play off of what Morgana references in the final rank of the Justice Arcana. The thieves in his cognition, however, are ready to turn on him at any moment and are prepared to overthrow him in all manners of the idea. He doesn’t trust anyone, basically.

So yall probably wondering what the treasure is, since it’s a palace. Well boy howdy, do I have news for you!!! Because I’m like that I decided it would be interesting if Akechi posed a challenge in a different type of way-- in that he doesn’t have a treasure. 

The treasure is a physical manifestation of what first caused the distortion, however, I think that what caused Akechi’s drastic distortion isn’t something physical at all. I know he’s always been a little... not great... however, I think what really pushed him over the edge was his awakening to a persona. Due to that, I don’t think it would be as easy for them to just go in and out with stealing his treasure. I think that in this case, they’d truly have to steal his heart in more than one way.

Should the calling card be sent, Akechi is aware that the Phantom Thieves have infiltrated and cleared his palace, and therefore his own heart and mind should be aware of the fact that they are going to attempt to steal the ‘treasure’ however, this wouldn’t make a treasure appear, but make his Shadow more aware and conscience to the events.

They’d have to not only defeat his shadow but then furthermore convince it to change its own heart. They would have to essentially take all that they’ve learned from the palace and attempt to convince Akechi otherwise, i.e. (you can tell I’m an Akechi sympathiser and want him to be happy with friends and a good ending) by trying to get him to understand that he’s not alone and other things like that. 

The boss battle would be a little different and would initiate after a conversation where you have the opportunity to talk to him and try to reason with him, and Shadow Akechi would wield some sort of Robin Hood-esque persona/become something similar. Once you beat his first phase, you have another conversation with him before he lashes out, parallel to his boss battle in canon, and that's when the le epic sad times second phase begins when he transforms into a form far more befitting to his Loki/Chaotic side. After the defeat of his second form, you have the final conversation with him. If you were to say all the right things (like the godforsaken persona 4 ending dfjhdj) He would come to a resolve and believe you and the other thieves, and go back to Akechi, which would enact the change of heart, but in the event that you don’t say the right things, he will succumb to the guilt and regression of the second half of his palace/loki and Akechi will remain in the same toxic cycle he goes through in canon, or even has a psychotic breakdown or something similar to.

The palace would occur post-Sae, but pre-Shido, and should you successfully convince him and change his heart, he will lose his Loki persona and POssibly even Robin Hood in favour of an awakened form, and he could rejoin the team under better pretence. Should you not change his heart, he will either have a psychotic breakdown, or he will wait for you in Shido’s palace to confront you on it and attack you like in canon. (Idk, it’s honestly up for debate what happens if you don’t succeed with changing his heart) The end result would be Akechi sacrificing himself as per usual should the latter happen.

--

I don’t really know!!! But I like the idea and I’ll definitely build on it for fun and continue to draw for it. I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes or weird stuff, I’m disassociating at 2am and losing my last brain cell, so I hope you can make sense of my weird AU drabble that isn’t entirely realistic or good!

So my brain’s been in overdrive as of late in terms of Lego Movie AUs and it’s come up with something like “what if human/no-meta au where Rex just ditched Emmet to suffer the same way he did in Undaar?”

Well I ended up with Desertpunk!Emmet and a de-aged Rex so take this as you will:

Basically Rex shoves Emmet into an escape pod and jettisons his past self off to Undaar while he slips away to bring hell on the heads of his once friends. Just like before, Lucy and the others have no way to find Emmet, but this time by god do they try. It takes four years of searching and blatant sabotage attempts by Rex, but they eventually catch a signal beacon out further than they've ever been.

And that's how they find desert wanderer Emmet, older, wearier, but still firmly Emmet, as he absolutely refused to stoop to Rex’s level. It was a hard 4 years and Emmet did his damnedest to survive, constantly trying to boost a signal beacon until it could be picked up and living off of poisonous sand worms as his only source of food and water on a planet lit in eternal twilight. He has absolutely no idea how long its been. But it’s enough know that when he sees his friends again, he starts crying and hugs them desperately.

When he’s finally found, Emmet is close to skeletal, tiny scars littering his face and body from bad sandstorm encounters. He’s draped in a patched and frayed canvas cloak, his clothes little more than rags and pockets filled with machine parts. His face is covered in a long scarf, though one of his eyes is covered in a loose bandage, sealed shut from a nasty eye infection (he suspects the eye itself still works). He’s surprisingly clean shaven and his hair cut short and jagged, a clear act of defiance to not echo Rex whatsoever. He keeps a weird set of goggles meant for a three-eyed alien, repurposed to wear in sandstorms. Always in his hands is an odd metal staff/harpoon he made for hunting, which he has a hard time letting go of. Unfortunately, he's also partly forgotten how to talk, not helped by his voice being reduced to a raspy whisper after a bad poisoning. But he's still his sweet, loving self and is far more tactile, soaking in as much physical contact as he can. And he is startlingly relentless in his positivity. When they ask him how he stayed sane, stayed himself, Emmet just smiles and whispers he did it because he knew it would make ‘him’ mad.

And he made absolutely certain that he could never become Rex, mainly by actually learning how to regulate his emotions and figuring out the whole ‘deal with frustration in a productive way’ by himself. Because he could bitch and moan and lose his temper all he wanted, but shit still won't get done. So he kind of starts disregarding his anger, tucking it away until there's an appropriate time to use it.

Any time he felt close to losing hope, he’d remember that horrible sneer on Rex’s face right before he jettisoned him. And by god did he want to wipe that smug look off his face with the most spiteful optimism he can muster. He ends up weaponizing 'kill them with kindness' to incomprehensible levels. (“I’M GONNA HUG AND KISS THAT GUY ON BOTH CHEEKS AND TELL HIM I FORGIVE HIM BECAUSE I LOVE HIM! HE’S GONNA BE SO PISSED!!”)

But things are still hard since Emmet has to relearn how to be around people and was clearly traumatized by the isolation, needing almost 24/7 physical contact lest he break down crying.

Not too long after Emmet returns home, he’s still adjusting to enclosed spaces and having to talk when the Systarians offer him something that could help ease the transition: An orb encasing a rare magical time spell that could rewind the clock on his life, making it so that the years he was lost never happened to him, physically and mentally. Emmet is hesitant about it, not really sure if he wants to do something so drastic, but the Systarians reassure him that even if he decides against it, they’ll understand. They just wanted to give him more options moving forwards and if he doesn’t need it, they’ll be happy to take it back and recalibrate it for someone else. Though uncertain, Emmet chooses to keep the spell on the off chance he changes his mind.

Of course, Emmet’s return doesn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone...

When returning from a day of therapy, Emmet is only half-surprised to find Rex already in his room waiting for him.

And Rex is pissed.

His ploy didn't work. Years! Wasted!! All of this in the hopes that Emmet would crack, but no! He was too stupid to!

Emmet just rasps he refused to give up, which was a lot easier when he realized what the simplest way to push Rex’s buttons was. With his warmest, happiest smile, Emmet just tells Rex: “I forgive you.”

The enraged scream Rex makes barely sounds human as he moves in to kill Emmet, knife in hand. But Emmet doesn't go down easy, raising his staff/harpoon up in defense and drive Rex away with it’s reach. Their fighting destroys a good portion of the room sending things flying, including knocking  the little spell orb loose. Emmet grabs it, but then Rex has him in a choke hold and is about to jam his knife straight into Emmet's throat.

So Emmet smashes the spell orb in Rex's face.

Rex has no idea what this is, but then magical lines and symbols spread over his body, lighting him up in a magical glow. Emmet gets released and he can only watch as Rex begins panicking because he can feel the spell affecting him, “What did you do to me?! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME???” Rex starts looking younger and younger, his angular face turning soft, adult hairs falling away as he screams at Emmet, his eyes wide with horror even as the lines around it fade, “What is this?! What the fuck is this???!!! You can't do this! I am your future! I am everything you’re supposed to be! This isn't supposed to happen, why is this happening?! I c- I can’t… why? Why?? WHY???!!!”

Emmet tries to calm Rex down, but Rex is watching himself as his cheeks turn soft and rounded, the last of his jawline eroding away, his clothes sliding loose and baggy off his shrinking frame, his gloves and boots easily sliding off, his hands and feet missing all sign of wear, now unblemished, soft, and small. The years keep melting away as his mind fails him, his breath hitching as he sobs uncontrollably, his voice turning to a high-pitched childish wail. He feels everything slipping away from him, the world now looming terrifyingly large around him. He’s lost and confused and scared out of his mind, “Wh-Wh-why c-can't I remember?! I-I-I’m s-sup-supposed to… I-I want my mommy… no-! no... please... I-I… d-don’t wanna die…”

Then strong arms wrap around him and he hears a man shushing him, telling him it's OK, he's safe, he's going to be OK, it's going to be OK.

And the little boy, too confused and frightened, just whimpers his last hiccuping sobs as his eyelids grow heavy and slip shut, everything fading away to nothing soon after.

Emmet is left holding an unconscious six-year-old, horrified at what he's done. He didn't think the spell would work like this, he thought it'd only go back before he became Rex, but apparently just how far wasn't specified. He breaks down sobbing against the boy’s still body, begging Rex to come back, he’s so sorry, please just come back…

Lucy and everyone are just as baffled when they burst in on the scene and even more so when Emmet tells them what happened. While they run diagnostics on the boy that was Rex, Emmet is consumed with guilt. He never meant for this. Does this mean Rex doesn't exist anymore?? Is the boy just a young Emmet now?? He’s so sorry, he wouldn’t have done it if he knew. Emmet can’t stop crying. He forgave Rex, he was always going to, but now it doesn’t matter because he killed Rex completely.

Lucy reassures him this is probably for the best. Rex wasn’t willing to change, wouldn't compromise, not after how Emmet so thoroughly defied him. At least this way, Rex gets a clean start again.

Emmet goes stiff and grabs Lucy, insisting Rex can't go into foster care again, it nearly broke them the first time and he's not going to let it happen to him again. Lucy calms him down and says that's fine, but what? Are they going to take care of him? Everybody in the room turns to them just as Emmet says with his desert stubbornness, "If I have to, then of course."

How well do these idiots do raising a babby Rex/Emmet? Well that’s probably for a second part, because uh.... Rex isn't quite done yet...

Episode: Ouroboros

Ouroboros is a fitting title for this episode.  Not because it has a snake-creature.  Not because of the symbolism of unity or the cycle of life and death.  No, in the sense that it's such a clear, contained example of how Dabbernatural is eating itself to death through the writers' absolute incompetence at telling a compelling, coherent story.  Or perhaps it’s in the sense of being a never-ending circle of making the same exact mistake over again: Supernatural is the Winchesters' story; making them incompetent fools to highlight your nonentity OCs is always going to read badly to a large portion of your audience.

It starts out okay.  The previously seems really overlong here and I do have to wonder if they think our memories of what’s previously happened are as shit as theirs.  The episode itself, however, begins well enough with a mysterious cold open involving a MotW who has really creepy new powers.  Okay, cool!  

Except instead of actually being hunted by Sam and Dean, literally everybody is along on this fucking hunt. Remember when Sam and Dean were allowed to be competent enough to track and kill a MotW themselves, because the writers knew they were meant to be clever, resourceful, and good at their job?  Best hunters in the world?  LOL. 

Now not only do they have to drag Castiel and Jack along, fucking Rowena has joined the Hunters R Us club.  Like, I love Rowena, but COME ON.  Which doesn't even address how later in the episode, Sam can't even do his own fucking research – they call it out to fucking Maggie!  Then Sam & Dean and Jack & Cas ALL get their asses absolutely handed to them … by some random one off MotW that we're not told any reason to expect has major fighting skills.  Unlike all the things they've beaten which literally did.  COME THE FUCK ON. 

What do the Winchesters actually get to accomplish in this episode of their own goddamn show other than exist onscreen to con us into watching the Dabbernatural Gary Stu drama hour? 

Blah blah blah, interlude of characters reminding us about Dean having Michael in his head interspersed with oh no, poor sad beige woobie still has magic consumption.  [Insert totes concerned hand-wringing here, or don't, because LOL, so over it.]  The most charitable thing I can say about it is that presumably Dean talks to Castiel about the box plan again here because Castiel will actually go through with it, unlike Sam. 

Also, I'm not a vet or any kind of medical professional, but when they needed to get some antivenom, my immediate thought was, “Wait, what kind?”  I figured maybe I was wrong because surely the writers would do the bare minimum of research, but apparently not, as Wikipedia does seem to corroborate that “the specific antivenom needed depends on the species involved”.  Pretty sure that their local vet's office doesn't have Gorgon antivenom.  Even if Rowena’s magic is involved, if she can just make it magically the right thing, why on Earth would they actually even need any kind of antivenom in the first place?  Or not at least talk about getting a specific kind so it doesn’t look like they’ve got no idea what they’re on about?  As such, I can’t see this as anything but the writers yet again not bothering to put in the basic minimum of care to explain how this thing that obviously shouldn't work will now work for reasons.

I did genuinely like Sam and Rowena's playacting in the vet office, that was great!  Even Jack getting turned into a dog to lift the non-magical magical cure-all antivenom was fun. As well as Rowena chiding Sam about how what they're doing with Jack is doing exactly what she would – as she was until recently a villain. (Although again, putting aside why, if Rowena is their fucking hunting buddy buddy now, why exactly they aren't telling her what's up with Jack.  Seriously, why?)  Unsurprising that what I think actually works briefly in this episode is the character interactions powered by the skill and charisma of the actors, not anything the writers are doing.

Which brings us back to what Dabb didn't learn from Wayward: making the Winchesters (and Cas) entirely incompetent and helpless to facilitate ludicrously endowed super!kids like Jack stealing the show is insulting enough when it happens with the Gorgon, but it is straight out infuriating as the end of the whole AU!Michael arc.  Seriously, I do not get this fetish of his.

Before getting more into that, as an aside, does it matter if Cas can breathe?  I don't mean that in a “Die, Cas, die!” way, either.  I mean, he's literally an angel in a human suit, even if he's paralyzed by the thing's venom (which I'll accept that the creature can't see him but its venom still works on him because the body is more or less human {sort of, considering it's been turned into a specially constructed vessel made to break all the angel rules for reasons [to not have a supposed good guy holding a human soul permanently hostage and that whole dumb special-vessels-lol-what Lucifer interlude]}) does it really matter? Especially in that moment?  Like, if he's angel enough that the monster can't see him, he should be angel enough that mundane damage to a vessel should be nothing more than an inconvenience.  Castiel is exactly as human or angels as the writers need in at any given second. 

Speaking of which - Jack freaking out over it is another instance where he's dumb as an infant or competent as a trained adult from second-to-fucking-second to facilitate what passes for a plot, because Dabb & Co. apparently got bored and decided they'd rather go back to another round of What's Wrong With Jack, You Should Totally Care! rather than actually write a coherent story around AU!Michael.  This infant/adult thing comes up again during the conversation with Cas about humans ultimately dying where Jack suddenly doesn't get death.  Even though we had that whole. long. thing. about Jack wanting to know about his mother and talking to that therapist and her parents about her and seeing her in heaven?  Yet now we're back to LOL what is death??  Maybe angels or part angels are literally incapable of learning anything.  It would explain a lot about both Jack and Cas in recent years. 

Also, I take back the points I mentally rewarded at the beginning of the episode for actually involving a new monster taken from mythology.  It was at this point when we see that Jack kept the snake that I recalled spoilers about what happens to it and I became suspicious that literally the only reason they went to the trouble was to give Jack a pet that wasn’t cuddly enough that the audience would turn on him if he does something to it.  I don’t mind planning ahead, but when the monster hunt was such a manufactured clusterfuck of stupid and the ultimate purpose of it seems this transparent?  Sigh.

Oh noes, what if Dean doesn't wake up!? Well, for one thing, he'd be spared continuing to exist in this shitty parody of the SPN universe, so, I'm kinda thinking that might actually be a win...

Speaking of the writers just railroading the characters in random directions to get wherever they want to go regardless?  Cas's ability to heal is useless again, because of course it is.  Somehow a physical head wound is complicated by archangel possession, because sure, why the fuck not? Remember when angel powers weren't a fucking joke, as useful as a knife without the blade?  Honestly, I might even accept that another angel was unable to do anything to a human who was playing vessel to a different angel if this wasn’t just one more in a string of so. fucking. many. instances of angel powers transparently and ludicrously existing or not exactly where the “plot” decrees they do.

Likewise, Rowena, the totally most powerful witch ever?  Shrug, she can do nothing.  Except, it turns out, get handed an idiot ball to make this railroading keep going on the same dumb track.  Welcome to the club, Rowena, enjoy being half as competent as ever you were (or less!) now that you're an ally.  Again, vessel rules?  What vessel rules?  Any old archangel can just pop into any old person they want to, don'tchaknow?  Not to mention how goddamn fucking stupid Rowena would have to be to let Michael in so he “doesn't harm anyone in the bunker”.  Are you fucking kidding me?  The only thing letting him possess her is going to do is give him immediate faster access inside the bunker without any chance to prepare for his attempting to kill all the people he definitely intends to kill.  Not to mention that they turned Rowena from completely self-involved to brainlessly selfless in this episode, suddenly, because because as if nothing exists in-between.  This literally happens because the show decided it was bored and uninterested in Michael after half-heartedly playing with the character for half a season so it chopped everyone's brains out, including their own, to make him go away.  I just cannot see any other explanation for Rowena both being that dead stupid and conveniently being able to house Michael. 

The only worthwhile thing in this episode is the good riddance to bad rubbish of all the AU!hunters in the bunker finally getting wiped out.  That the show actually expects me to be in any way upset by a bunch of people who don't even fucking have names and just keep milling around in the background taking up space biting it?  Aside, from, of course, another Dabbernatural-style cardboard sue like Maggie who went from not even knowing how to hold a weapon to being the goddamn leader in a handful of episodes?  Presumably because the Winchesters are?  Yeah, no.

Even though when he actually had his powers it wasn't a foregone conclusion that Jack could effectively take on Michael?  Now that Jack doesn't have his powers, suddenly he can burn up his soul and just completely overpower Michael with the total McGuffiness of his existence for reasons.  If doing that is so powerful, and we’re stuck with this retcon about divisible souls, why can’t any old angel just burn out their vessel’s soul to get super-powered magic?  If the powers that any individual or item has have no logical consistency, and every new idea that pops into what passes for the writer’s brains is introduced as TEH MOST POWERFUL EVAH?  No conflict over supernatural powers in this show can have any legitimate narrative weight.  If the audience can’t adequately gauge the threat, it all becomes a muddle of random events that happen rather than a coherent story we can actually invest in caring about.

Look, I’m not saying that no Supernatural plot before the current era was resolved by McGuffins or random powers.  The issue here is the general issue with their use in Dabb’s era.  Jack doesn't have to work for it.  He doesn't have to figure out some complicated way to boost his powers to make it work against the most powerful archangel.   There’s no buildup for us to invest in.   There’s no sense of the characters actually working at an obstacle and earning a victory.  He's just suddenly handed this level of power to make it happen right now, at this arbitrary moment, because the show decided it was done with this arc now and could not be fucking bothered.  It makes no sense with anything we’ve been shown about the characters' powers, it makes no sense for the story actually feeling like the characters are meaningfully accomplishing anything by their legitimate merits.  It sure as fuck makes no sense for the lore.  That whole thing with Billy's books they've been harping on and on about as TEH ONLY WAY?  Which Rowena even calls back to this episode?  Nah, nevermind, tossed out the fucking window without even a goddamn handwave.  

Seriously, the Michael arc is not resolved here because the Winchesters outsmarted destiny again, or that they found some way to cleverly subvert it.  It’s not even that they worked to find a solution and finally the work paid off by them coming across something suspiciously perfect.  It’s that they waffled around for several episodes being dramatic and making literally no progress until Dabb & Co. arbitrarily and literally handed the power to end the arc to their pet joke fake!Winchester “son” because they did not care.  And yet they expect us in the audience to continue to care, even though I can not think of any other development in any other professional media I have ever consumed that was as unsatisfying and honestly infuriating as this pile of haphazard bullshit.

Final Business

Some Mafia AU that went on for way long than intended so I apologize for the length. Tagging @clownsgobeepbeep and @grotesquegabby since a few of yours make cameos. 

Maggie sat at the little desk outside her boss’ office nervously tapping her fingers. She heard a soft jingle as a tiny figure stepped out, she gave Amaranthus a smile and tiny wave. The little girl returned so in kind before giving Maggie a suspicious look.

Maggie snickered and pulled a small paper bag from her purse, inside of which was a large cinnamon roll which she ripped in half.

“Normally I prefer these for breakfast.” Maggie giggled as she gave half to Ama, “but today is special I think.”

Ama munched on her half of the pastry, pausing on occasion to let her cat Mune lick some of the frosting from her fingers. 

Maggie scarfed down her half of the pastry, her eyes flicking to the door of the office ever so often.

“Why is today special?”

Maggie turned to Ama at the question. “Well today I have to ask your dad for a really, really big favor that’s why. This cinnamon roll grants courage.”

Maggie spoke with such certainty that Ama took a moment to stare in awe at the remains of the treat in her hands before quickly eating the rest.

“Daddy is really nice, you don’t need to be sc-scared.”

Maggie gave a tight smile, the whole ruse of being a secretary felt silly and she was absolutely certain the kid had some awareness of what her dad did for a living. Until moments like this that is. 

Maggie gave the little girl a thumbs up before going to the office door and giving a knock.

“Enter.”

Maggie found her boss seated behind his desk filling out some kind of paperwork. She hated calling him boss if she was honest with herself but that was what Blueblood was. Besides, part of her was worried if she continued to call him “ass” in her head that one day it would accidentally slip out.

“Good morning Miss Bryne I believe today you were on desk duty.”

Maggie straightened her shoulders. “Yeah well about that, sir I need to ask-”

Blueblood looked up, Maggie never started off by calling him “sir.”

“What do you want Maggie?”

“I need the day off.”

“Now?”

“Its an emergency.”

Blueblood frowned, waiting for her to elaborate. Maggie however kept silent, refusing to look away first.

“So you’re not going to even tell me why?”

“No, not now at least it's a family emergency.”

“You do know I did a background check on you yes? Miss Bryne you don’t have any family.”

Maggie flinched at the observation but refused to back down. “If you did as thorough a check as you claimed then you would know that's not entirely true. Sir I need the day off. I will owe you double the favor. Hell, I’ll do the next couple jobs free if it makes you happy.”

Bloueblood sneered, “best not considering you could stand to dress more professionally.” He eyed her scuffed boots and worn clothes. Something very obvious now that she wore a new boa. 

Maggie rolled her eyes but held her tongue, she needed this too much to blow it in the name of getting the last word.

Blueblood arched an eyebrow, surprised at her lack of sarcasm. “Fine then, double the favor and I would appreciate some form of proper explanation after. Tomorrow I expect you here bright and early.”

Maggie sighed with relief and turned to go, “thank you so much-”

“Also, stop feeding my Angel so many sweets. She gets plenty already with all the tea parties she has.”

Maggie scoffed, “oh let the kid live a little. No childhood is complete without a little sugar rush.” 

Before he could argue she was out the door.

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

She had been saving for years, putting aside every penny she could spare and watching the housing market like a hawk. 

At long last, there was just enough.

Maggie’s better paycheck had helped immensely, something that made her question why was she being paid such a small wage to begin with. But Magpie sunk a large portion of her savings in as well and bought a small cottage that sat in the country nearly two hours from the city. 

Magpie had an armed guard nearly 24/7,  Maggie couldn’t be there to make sure her adopted mother was alright. When he was finally let in on the plan Vespers saw to it himself to help cover the signing fees and drive his aunt to the real estate office himself. Now here he was driving her to one final stop, one last piece of business.

The Godfather’s manor never felt so cold and unwelcoming to Magpie. This had been her childhood home, now it was a cave draped in finery. Her brother stood outside the door to the Godfather’s office, he looked so angry.

Magpie arched a questioning brow, what could she have possibly done to him personally to earn such a look?

Inside Blackwood sat waiting surrounded by guard, the blind old woman next to him as stoic as ever.

Magpie suppressed a shiver. Bridgette Bryne had always been next to her grandfather’s side, the two had always needed each other but Magpie knew how much they truly did not get along. Such an odd relationship.

“My dear Magpie,” Blackwood warmly greeted, “it's been quite sometime since you’ve visited us Angel.”

Magpie kissed his offered hand before stepping back. “Good day sir, I deeply appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”

Blackwood sighed, “I understand how upset you must feel losing Maggie, Ms. Bryne herself was quite frustrated were you not Bridgette dear?” Blackwood asked the woman next to him.

Bridgette gave a mournful nod but nothing else, though she was blind her eyes somehow managed to land on Peregrine at the back of the room. 

“However my darling Angel,” Blackwood continued, “I must ask why such dramatics?”

Magpie felt a cold sweat break out on the back of her neck. “Sir?”

Blackwood gave a thin smile, “you came to tell me you were leaving yes? Don’t think you could hide buying a house of all things.”

“Magpie gripped the cuffs of her coat sleeves. “Sir I have long desired to leave the city altogether you know this. I have already arranged for Joseph and Vega to take over the care of the shop and I find that I am no longer useful to you anyways. What's more with Jack’s crew running about I’m only a liability to you my dear Blackwood sir. I felt this would be the better arrangement.”

“But you seem to be under the impression I would allow you to leave my dear Angel.”

Magpie frowned, she was afraid of this. It took so much begging to him for her to retire, even more to find an arrangement that allowed her to leave the manor. Blackwood was a manipulative and greedy one no doubt. A control freak till the end.

“Sir I serve no purpose to you. My last act of service was caring for Ms. Bryne’s granddaughter-”

“Which you did quite wonderfully. I’m afraid the girl’s own rash behavior caused this consequence.”

Bridgette hummed in annoyance, “she certainly didn’t get it from me.”

Blackwood cleared his throat to pull the attention back to him. “I never formally dismissed you from service to your family Magpie my dear. While I am upset to have lost one perfectly good asset I refuse to lose another.”

“You have a funny way of treating your valuable people if I may be so bold, sir.” Magpie deadpanned.

Blackwood grinned, it was not a good thing. “Ah there it is. So this is where the little bird got her sass. Oh but I do take care of what is valuable my Angel. I shall reacquire Maggie in time don’t you fret and when I do she shall come directly back to her grandmother for training again. Blueblood will either drive her out or toss her aside quickly no doubt. A harsh lesson in obedience but a solid one.”

Magpie blanched, horrified at how serious he was. But Blackwood was still smiling. “What’s more my darling Angel you can’t possibly leave now given your recent promotion.”

“What promotion?”

“Well I can’t possibly be around forever Magpie. It has been my intention for years that you would be the perfect fit. You have a generous nature and are very calculating. But you and I both know the coldness underneath that fa-sod. A perfect fit indeed.

Magpie stood in shock, processing this new information. No wonder her brother was so angry.

Magpie started laughing. 

It was a loud, hysterical laugh. Blackwood’s smile quickly slipping from his face.

“No you fool of an old man. I can’t stand you, why on Earth would I want to replace you?”

She continued to laugh as she turned to leave, only to be stopped when three of Blackwood’s men drew guns.

The laughter stopped but Magpie still did not turn to face him.

“Please by all means, go ahead and shoot.”

She took another step.

The man to her left pulled the trigger.

BAM!

The man collapsed, brains blown out. Magpie stock still with her gun still pointed in his direction.

Where she had even drawn the gun from did not matter, she didn't even look to the man when she shot him.

The other two gunmen backed away, Magpie looked over her shoulder with a giggle, she had a cold but mad look in her eye.

This is what Blackwood was so desperate to keep.

His Angel of Death. 

“Such a bastard,” she hissed. “You never let me off my leash unless it was to maw your enemies. You kept both my little bird and I on tight funds so we could never gain any financial independence. You expect me to admire and adore you and fear you all at once. How stupid. The only thing you can truly hold over me you allowed my brother to send packing into the hands of a devil but far, far out of your grip.”

Blackwood paled, looking to Peregrine who stood with his arms crossed and just the slightest smirk.

“My deepest apologies sir, you did tell me to deal with her as I saw fit. Maggie was a liability.”

Blackwood looked from one sibling to the other, perhaps… just perhaps… they were more coordinated than he thought.

Again Magpie laughed, “shoot me I don’t care. But you know I’m faster than any of your men Blackwood. If I die you come with me.”

The words hung in the air.

She was right and they all knew it.

Magpie walked out the door gun in her hand, her brother did not follow but did give just the tiniest smile on her way out.

Mission accomplished.

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

Vespers had been waiting in the car, he did not see his aunt tuck a gun into the band of her skirt. All he saw was a tired older woman he had been tasted to drive to the bus station with her bags.

“I’m really sorry I can’t come with you like planned Aunt Pie,” Vespers sighed. “I have some unexpected errands to run tonight.”

Magpie smiled and gave her nephew a kiss on the head, “it’s quite alright Vessy dear. I won’t be alone. By the way, some parting advice for you. Please do yourself a favor and talk to that D’Vitt boy. The worst that can happen is he isn’t interested.” 

Vespers blushed in embarrassment as they arrived at the bus station. Almost not noticing Maggie come up to the car and help Magpie out.

“So I can’t stay the night but I’ll take the last bus back so I can help you get settled.”

Magpie smiled and hugged Maggie tightly, the two carrying Magpie’s bags as they boarded the bus together.

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

At the D’Vitt Casino no one was aware of the drama that had occurred at the Blackwood estate. They were just aware that one Blackwood was now walking towards the bar where Stellar D’Vitt had been speaking with the bartender.

He frowned at the white-haired figure that approached, “what the hell are you doing here?”

Vespers gave a cheeky grin. “Well I have been running errands all evening and finished my last one not too far from here. Figured I would stop by and grab a drink before calling it a night. Mind joining me?”

Stellar sneered, “whatever you’re after you won’t find it here.” With this he walked off leaving Vespers alone at the bar.

The bartender watched in mild amusement as Vespers sat down with a tired sigh, “it’s Harley yes? It's been a long day friend, what do you recommend?” 

Harley shook his head with a smirk as he reached for a glass.

A Note for The Fandom

Hi gang it’s ya boi Cole here to DROP KNOWLEDGE that is LIKELY GOING TO UPSET PEOPLE but it NEEDS TO BE DROPPED

It has come to my attention recently that there are some influential bloggers here in our fandom who are being influential in a way that is negative. I’ve seen a certain big blog absolutely scorning tropes that are common to our fandom. Someone who ridicules those that buy into those tropes. Someone who believes that they are on some sort of high horse because they are ‘above’ creating content that falls into a stereotype. 

Someone who is making it seem like a bad thing to create content that follows a trope. Someone who is dense enough to not realize the impact their words have on others, someone who is almost irreparably emotionally thick enough to not understand that their words can be cruel, especially to those of our number who are young. 

What kind of trope are you speaking of, oh bear person?

Lots of things that produce wonderful content! Some of the best art and fics I see are based off of

Virgil being soft

Virgil crying

People treating Virgil like an actual entity with emotions and feelings

The sides taking care of one another

Common themes like “I know Thomas plays all the sides but they are DIFFERENT PEOPLE”

Roman Sanders being extra

Logan being secretly soft

Logan having no emotions

(Insert side here) angst

(Insert side here) fluff

Ships

So much more that I cannot remember at this moment

Anything that is quintessential to our fandom really

 A large portion of the Sanders Sides fandom consists of minors, absolutely wonderful young people who are seeking to get their toes wet in the waters of creation. These are some of the most wonderful people I interact with. But the fact of the matter is that the children of this fandom (sorry to call you children kiddos but I’m aiming this at a certain older blogger who fails to realize your innocence) are impressionable. These children are just beginning to create, and they gravitate towards larger blogs to get a sense of what creation is. 

And what do these guys think when they see you, posting never endingly about how the things this fandom thinks is fun is stupid and that everyone who buys into it is stupid? How do these kids react when they see a huge person in the fandom utterly trashing the piece they were working so hard on?

They think their writing is wrong (be that due to ‘improper characterization or ‘improper’ trope usage)

They think they are stupid

They think they are useless

Some want to end their creative careers

Just because you were so insensitive, just because you were such a prick who thinks they’re so cool for hating on something that someone else likes. Just because you seem to get off by putting down people, just because you seem to center your entire blog around being the “”sane”” one when to the rest of us “”sane”” just means ‘cruel’ Just because you are set in your ways despite being told numerous times that you are hurting someone’s feelings. 

You say you are trying to mend your ways, you say that you are trying to be nicer But have you really? It’s been a year, and I still have children coming to me saying that your posts hurt them. That they feel worthless, that their content is WORTHLESS. 

If younger people are absolutely destroyed because of your content, you are undeserving of your standing and you need to fucking figure things out.

You must remember your influence, and you must check your words, for their impression may be deeper than you realize. If you find you are unable to do this, I believe I am flanked by the agreement of many others in this fandom when I say you must speak only when you have something nice to say. Hell, I’d be fucking glad to be your filter. I volunteer, even! I would love to be the person who can tell you whether or not fucking children will come into my PMs and tell me they are worthless and dumb just because they want to write a little oneshot involving Virgil crying or some shit and believe all of that because you constantly scorn them for doing that! 

And, like it or not, people can’t just unfollow you and never see your content again. How I fucking wish that was the case. I wish my young followers who come here to escape negativity can not see your bullshit. I wish I could protect them and allow them to flourish in their hobbies, but this person is everywhere. 

It’s OK to have opinions that are unpopular. It’s perfectly OK to post whatever you wish. It’s your blog, and there’s not much I can do about it. But you cannot act as though your opinions are the only, truly correct opinions in the fandom. You cannot state an opinion and say ‘oh well it’s my opinion’ and completely disregard other opinions and trounce them as completely inaccurate. Whether you realize or not, this is the impression a lot of people are getting from you. Please consider this a wake up call. Your word is NOT fandom gospel and you are extremely rude and selfish to even think otherwise. 

The rest of us big blogs know this. We understand our standing. We know we must be cautious of our words because we understand our followers are people

So why can’t you? 

This being said, you are one of us. Because of this, I know there is good in you yet. I know that in there there is someone who can understand just how hurtful they have been. I know there is someone who, despite their struggles, can find a way to use their wonderful brain to assert their thoughts in a way that is respectful of others.  

TL:DR: Your content is fucking great regardless of how people make it out to be. Follow those tropes. Write that common AU. Post about whatever you wish regardless of how big blogs think of you. 

Just because they are big it doesn’t mean they are right.

My Einherji Academia Ch1

Summary: Magnus, despite all odds, manages to get into UA, a top-tier school for heroes. It's his first step towards his dream, and along with homework and hero training comes someone he hadn't expected to meet yet - his soulmate.

I'm back from the dead! At first, I wanted to write a soulmate au and then I kept thinking about what the gang's quirks would be in HeroAca (because that show owns my ass now) and this thing was born. Honestly, it's extremely self-indulgent and my side project through the last couple of months. This could honestly become a monster like the obligatory Hogwarts au but I'm not that masochistic, so have this short thing instead. I hope you enjoy it! (If you haven't watched HeroAca: the majority of the world's population has superpowers called 'quirks' and being a hero is an actual paying job. UA is considered the top hero school since it has produced the majority of the world's best heroes. That's what you'll need to know for this. I really recommend you watch the show, just because it has ruined my life and I want you to suffer with me.)

Magnus stood in awe in front of the school gates.

He was here. He made it. From this day onward, he would be a student at UA, the school with the best hero course in the country. A shiver runs through his spine at the thought. It was so surreal to stand in front of the tall, ‘H' shaped building and think that this is where he'd come to for school every day from now on.

His acceptance letter had come some time ago, the video disk that would tell him whether he made it or not inside the envelope. It had been so light when he picked it up and yet it had felt so heavy in his hands.

He hadn’t realized that his fingers had brushed against his soulmark until he felt a wave of reassurance spread through him from his palm, accompanied by the familiar warm feeling he got whenever his soulmate sent him their emotions through their bond. He had smiled down at his hand and sent back gratitude through the iridescent sun-like flower that sat at the fleshy bit underneath his right thumb, the stem following the path of his veins.  They were only able to communicate with emotions through their soulmark, no words, but most school acceptance letters came that day, so they must have had guessed that's what had gotten him anxious.

He’d watched the video projected on his wall with bated breath, waiting for the words he dreaded to hear. You did not get in. But those words had never come, and what he heard instead was, Congratulations, Magnus Chase, you have been accepted into UA!

He’d screamed so loudly his landlady had come to see what all the fuss was about, but the frown had quickly fallen from her face when Magnus had told her the good news. The old lady had always had a soft spot for him, it was the reason she rented him the small apartment with a discount, and she had ruffled his head as if he was her own grandson.

Once she had left, Magnus had let his fingers touch his soulmark and allowed the ecstasy he was feeling to travel to his soulmate. The response had been instant; happiness, pride, and love had washed over him and Magnus had been hit once more with the profound desire to hug his soulmate tight.

Now Magnus walked to the front gates of the school, his soulmark still buzzing with the wave of positivity that had come through it that morning, the closest thing to good luck they could communicate through their bond. He smiled at the deja vu feeling it gave him. He had been standing here, that same feeling coursing through his palm to his entire body on the day of the entrance exams. 

///

Okay, you can do this. This will be fine. You got this, Magus tried to reassure himself as he walked towards UA’s entrance. You can’t do this. It won’t be fine. You don’t have this, his brain yelled back at him.

What was he thinking? He wants to be a Hero, sure, but he has a goddamn healing quirk, how is he supposed to get into UA with that? This school is responsible for making some of the greatest Heroes that have ever existed, it’s the best Hero Academy in the country, hell, the whole world, and only 2% of those who take the entrance exams actually manage to get in! How is he supposed to make it?

He must have accidentally brushed against his soulmark, or maybe his soulmate knew him well enough to realize he must be nervous, because a wave of reassurance and positivity rolled over him. It’s okay, it seemed to say. You’ll do great.

Magnus tried to hold onto that feeling. Even if he didn’t get in, he had to try. It’s alright to fail, his mother used to say when she was still alive, but not because you were too scared to try.

I may fail but it doesn’t mean that I won’t try. Magnus took a deep breath through his nose. I’ll try.

As Magnus walked to the main entrance, he runs through possible ways the practical portion of the exam might go and how he could deal with them, since combat wasn't his specialty by a long shot. He brushed his fingers against his soulmark, sending back gratitude and as much positivity as he could master, though he knew his anxiousness slipped through too.

Magnus was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the person in front of him that he walked into. They yelped when Magnus hit their back and he stumbled, falling on his butt. Some of the other students slowed their pace to look at what was happening and Magnus felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"Are you alright?" The person he ran into asked. The girl in front of him had skin the color of bronze and bright brown eyes that looked at Magnus with worry and guilt, like she was somehow responsible for Magnus not paying attention to where he was going. A green headscarf wrapped around her head, hiding her hair from view, and a bag was slung over her shoulder.

“Ah, yeah, I’m fine,” Magnus said as he pushed himself up. “I’m sorry I run into you. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“It’s alright,” the girl said. “I was spaced out too. I’m so nervous about the exam. Oh, I’m Samirah, by the way.”

“I’m Magnus. Are you here for the hero course?”

Samirah smiled, her eyes glimmering, and as a fellow nerd, Magnus recognized the tone of voice one used when they were very passionate about something but didn’t want to scare others off. “Yes! I can manipulate air.” She spun her fingers around, creating a small ball of condensed air in her palm. Magnus looked on in awe, suddenly very self-conscious of his own quirk. “What about you?”

"I want to get in the hero course too," Magnus said flustered, a habit left behind from years of being told his quirk isn't suited for a cool hero. "I, um, I'm a healer."

“Oh, that’s great! You’d make a great rescue hero!”  They climbed up the front steps of the school building, kids their age everywhere around them, and Magnus realized once more that all these kids, all of them with their own lives, were here to pursue the exact same dream.

Magnus fidgeted uncomfortably with the hem of his hoodie. “Thank you. I should, uh, get going. I need to find my seat. Good luck!”

Samirah waved at him. “You too!”

Magnus found the auditorium quite easily, what with the huge sign over the door and the dozens of students rushing in. Inside, the room was absolutely huge, by far the biggest room Magnus had ever been in. Desks made a loose circle around a central stage, each row of desk higher up than the last, like an ancient Greek theater. He found his seat somewhere in the middle of the room and sat down, observing all the students who walked inside. Some of their quirks were easy to figure out just by looking at them, like a boy with large wings and an invisible girl. Others had weird features, like horns or muzzles or tails. His eyes landed on a kid a few rows in front of him with a mop of bright green hair that was black at the roots.

Magnus chuckled to himself. He found it very amusing to imagine how a person from the age before quirks would react to their society today and just how different humans could look.

Once the hall was filled out, the tests were passed around. Magnus may have sacrificed precious hours of sleep to study but it was worth it. The written exam was over before he even realized it and he handed his papers to the school employ who came by to collect them.

Chattering and whispering spread through the room as the tests were collected and the students didn't have to stay quiet anymore. Magnus noticed an alarmingly big amount of students just lying on their desks like they'd rather die after this than have to go through the practical exam too.

Next to him, a boy with dark skin tapped his fingers on the desk, looking much more optimistic than the majority of teens in the room. Magnus couldn’t help but noticed the tapered shape of his fingers, a thin line running around them near the edge like a lid. He must have been staring for some time because the boy looked up at him and Magnus quickly averted his gaze.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” he blurted out. The boy didn’t seem to share Magnus’s embarrassment.

“No, it’s okay,” he chuckled. “I can fire projectiles from my fingers, in case you were wondering.” The lid at the edge of his fingers popped up, revealing the hollow inside.

“Oh, that’s amazing!” Magnus all but yelled, his quirk nerd coming out. “Does your body produce bullets or do you have to load them?”

“Both, though I need time to create new bullets if I run out. It’s kind of like reloading.”

Magnus’s mind was running a mile a minute with all sorts of different uses of this quirk, but his stupid mouth decided to voice the most ridiculous one. “Your quirk is literally finger guns.”

Magnus flushed when he realized what he said, but the boy chuckled. “Yeah, it is.”

“I’ve already made all the jokes,” a voice said from behind them. A boy – more like a man, because no fifteen-year-old had any right to be this tall and muscular – was leaning over the desk behind them, his wild mane of hair flying in every direction. "I'm Halfborn, by the way. Gun guy is T.J and this explosive lady is Mallory." The redheaded girl next to Halfborn waved. Something about the way she looked at Magnus made him think she was thinking of the best possible way to kill him.

“What’s your quirk?” Mallory asked. She had freckles everywhere and her hair was just as wild as Halfborn’s.

“Um, I’m a healer. My name is Magnus.”

“Oh, that’s a useful quirk,” the huge boy said. “I can make my body as hard as rock. It’s why my mum named me Halfborn. I looked like I was half born and half carved out of rock.”

“I can make explosions, if his horrible puns didn’t give it away,” Mallory said, jabbing Halfborn in the side with her elbow (which must have hurt if his skin was rock hard).

They kept talking among themselves until a large man with a long cape walked onto the stage. Magnus recognized him as the Thunder Hero, Thor, a popular hero with the quirk of creating and controlling thunderbolts. With his loud boisterous voice, he explained to the students how for their practical exam they would be separated into groups and fight against robots, each one worth a different amount of points they could win if they destroyed it. Their performance during those battles would determine whether they passed or not.

As the other students warmed up in front of the gates of testing ground Beta, Magnus was… freaking out, to say the least. He knew the practical exam would have something to do with fighting, he expected it, but it still came as a blow to him. Would he be able to destroy some robots with a quirk like his? Maybe he could lay out some traps? Would it count as destroying if he made a robot trip and smack face first into the ground?

Magnus was so lost in his worries he didn't notice the person stretching next to him. The green haired kid from the auditorium was studying him from the corner of their two-colored eyes, watching as this scrawny blond boy almost had an aneurysm from his nerves.

With a sigh, the green haired student stood up and walked closer to Magnus. “Calm down, alright? You’re not doing yourself any favors worrying like that. Plus, I can feel your anxiousness from here and it’s distracting.”

Magnus flushed and looked away. “Ah, sorry. I’m just… nervous.” Yes, obviously you’re nervous, that’s why they spoke t you in the first place.

“I noticed,” the kid smirked. “Look, we don’t know what this testing ground is like. Maybe it will help you use your quirk better. Maybe it won’t. There’s no reason to kill yourself with worry over something you can’t control. Just deal with it when the time comes.”

Magnus couldn’t really argue with that logic. “Thanks, uh…”

The kid switched their weight to their left leg, their hip jutting out and their arms crossed over their chest. Their tracksuit was pink with green stripes running down the sides and coupled with the glint in their eyes it made them  look like a man-eating plant about to attack.“Alex. She/her at the moment.”

“I, um, I’m Magnus. He/him always.”

Alex smirked and Magnus felt like the previous man-eating flower metaphor was really accurate. “Well, guess I’ll see you later if you pass the exam, Magnus.”

Alex walked away, waving a glove-covered hand at him, and before Magnus had time to think about the exchange that just took place, Thor’s booming voice came out of the speakers, telling the students to take their places because the exam was about to start.

Welp, here it goes, Magnus though as he got his place next to the other teenagers. His heart was beating so loud he could hear it in his ears as Thor counts down to the start of the practical exams.

“Three!”

Okay, deep breath. Don’t panic.

“Two!”

Just stay calm and figure out the best possible plan. You got this.

“One! Go!”

Students rushed past him, activating their quirks so they could cover more ground. One guy ran super fast, the gusts of wind he created blowing Magnus’s hair back; another one climbed on top of the nearest building and Magnus saw a fucking cheetah pass by him (he had the weird feeling the feline was smirking at him). Everywhere he looked people were using their powers – scanning the area for enemies from the roofs of buildings, running through the streets at impossible speeds, using the environment around them to use their quirk to move faster. They were hardly inside the faux city for three minutes when Magnus heard the deafening bang of one of the robots going down.

It’s like a jungle, Magnus though, eyes wide with fear and awe. This is what they mean when they talk about survival of the fittest!

Magnus took off frantically. He needed to take down some of the robots and fast. Ideally the ones worth more points would be better but he couldn't afford to be picky now. He runs by people fighting, the remains of a robot littering the street as a boy with giant fists crushed another one close by. The sight made Magnus panic. How was he supposed to destroy a robot with a healing quirk?

He stumbled as his feet hit a piece of scrap metal and he fell down, someone else crashing into him. He didn't get to see who it was because they were gone immediately with an angry, "Watch where you're going, loser!" Magnus blurted out apologies to no one; he was so out of his depth and it made him feel weak and tiny. (And compared to some of the kids here, he was.) He got up, glancing back down for a moment before grabbing the piece of metal from the ground. Maybe he could use it as a weapon.

Yet even armed with his makeshift sword, he had to find an enemy to fight and with so many people looking for the same thing and his low mobility, that was almost impossible. His heart had rejoiced when he had seen the bright ‘2' on a lone robot, but it had been swiftly destroyed by Samirah's air spear, the rays of sun filtering through the condensed air making it look like it was made out of light. The next robot had been destroyed by a boy the size of a two-floor bus, the one after that by a girl with water for hair and the one after that by a girl with horse legs.

He ran and he ran and he ran down the street, turning down alleys and taking sharp turns, but each and every time a robot was before him, someone else took it down before he could even lift up his scrap-metal sword.

I’m never going to make it!

Fueled by animalistic panic, Magnus kept running blindly. He had to find a robot, he had to find a robot, one, just one!

“Watch out!” Someone yelled and Magnus had enough time to see the dismembered arm of one of the robots flying straight at him. Surprise had frozen him in place, the arm flying closer and before he knew it-

The arm hit the street, cracking the cement and creating a small crater at the place Magnus was standing at just seconds ago. Dazed and confused, he looked up to see a large lion holding him by the collar of his shirt. The lion put him down on the sidewalk, away from the commotion, then started to change, fur giving place to pink and mismatched eyes staying the same as the lion changed to Alex.

“Watch where you’re going or you’ll get crushed, Maggie,” she said before switching into a cheetah and zipping away, leaving Magnus to star at her as he tried to wrap his mind around what just happened in those few short seconds.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. No time for that now! I need to pass the exam!

He took off running, taking a left at a crossroad and stopped dead in his tracks before he managed to run into the back of one of the robots. It’s large, clunky arms were swinging at whoever was fighting it, and as it bent forward to attack at the dodging student, Magnus caught the glint wiring between the armored plates of its head and body.

Would it break if I cut those? He didn't mull it over for long, gripping his metal chunk tightly and jumping on the robot as soon as it bent to attack again. The sharp point of the metal wedged between the two parts of the robot as it moved around to try and throw him off. He wrapped his legs around its back and moved the metal sharply from side to side, damaging and cutting the wires with the metal's rugged edge. He must have hit something important because the robot went stiff suddenly before collapsing in a heap on the ground.

“I had that!” The student that had been fighting the robot yelled, but Magnus was running again towards the nearest robot to attack it from behind again. Maybe he could get enough points to pass like this if he was quick enough!

He was moving off the remains of his second robot, having collected four points thus far, when a scared voice yelled, “Run!” Shrieks and screams followed it as students rushed past Magnus in terror. Magnus understood why when he looked up and felt his blood run cold in his veins.

A robot, bigger than the buildings around them, was moving through the testing ground, destroying everything in its path. A large, blood red zero gleamed on its side and Magnus remembered Thor’s instructions.

“The robots’ points are written on their bodies. One is worth one point, two is worth two, and so forth. If a robot has a zero on it it’s worth no points and you shouldn’t bother fighting it.”

I can see why! The robot was absolutely huge, there was no way a single person could take it down unless they had a death wish and an insanely powerful quirk. Magnus was about to start running away like the rest of the students when he heard a panicked string of curses.

"Fucking hell! Come on, move! Shit!" Alex was lying on the street, blood seeping into her tracksuit from a wound in her side as she tried to push the ruble that was keeping her legs trapped. But the ruble was too big, too heavy, and the robot was drawing nearer, turning everything it ran over to dust.

Magnus didn’t know what happened, didn’t realize what he was doing or why, but his body was moving on its own, running opposite the fleeing students towards Alex.

“What are you doing?” someone yelled at him. “Run!”

I don’t know, I don’t know what I’m doing! Magnus dropped to his knees next to Alex and started pushing against the ruble, the slab of concrete inching higher and higher under their combined strength.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get crushed!” Alex yelled at him.

“So are you!” He yelled back as the piece of debris fell of Alex, revealing the broken mess that was her legs.

“Shit,” they muttered together, and with half a glance at the approaching robot, Magnus pressed his palms against Alex’s bruised flesh through a rip in her pants near the knee.

Come on, you can do it. Just heal her. He closed his eyes, tried to calm his head, and simply concentrate on the feeling of flesh and blood and bones underneath his fingertips, the hum of Alex's body under his hands as he willed the bones back in place, cracks mending and tissue reconnecting.

But not fast enough, not nearly fast enough. Alex was groaning at the pain of her bones being healed and the robot was coming nearer and nearer, the sounds of robot remains being crushed under its weight deafening.

It needs to stop, it needs to stop, it needs to STOP!

Magus was screaming and for a moment the world was still, burning as a fire seemed to spark inside him and spread outwards, consuming everything in its path and turning it to ashes. There was the sound of metal flying through the air and crashing into buildings as students screamed in fear, confusion, and surprise.

The last thing Magnus could remember was Alex’s staggered expression before everything turned black.

///

Later, Magnus had woken up in one of the beds in the infirmary, head clouded as Eir, the Healing Hero and nurse of UA stood over him. She had run some tests on him to make sure everything was working like it was supposed to and Magnus asked her what had happened as she was writing something down on her clipboard.

“You overexerted your quirk and passed out from the strain,” she said. “The other examinees said you screamed and suddenly they were made to drop their weapons as they flew out of their hands. They said that the Zero robot stopped dead in its tracks like it had broken down.”

Magnus had blinked up at her, even more confused than before. “But how? I have a healing quirk, I couldn’t possibly do something like that!”

Eir’s eyes took in Magnus for a moment, calculating as if she was thinking of how to stitch up his wound. “What does it feel like when you heal something? What do you imagine?”

“What? It… feels like someone’s body is coming together underneath my fingers. I just imagine everything going back to their place and they do.”

Eir nodded. “Exactly. You don’t have a healing quirk, but a body manipulation one. I am correct to assume one of your parents was a healer?”

Magnus nodded, still dumbfounded. “My mother.”

Eir didn’t seem surprised. “That must have been why you had an innate leaning towards healing, it was the genes from your mother’s quirk at play. Your father most likely had some type of manipulation quirk, and the two combined and resulted in yours.”

Magnus was speechless, obviously. He had lived his whole life believing one thing and suddenly it was proven wrong. “But then what about the flying weapons? They’re inanimate objects!”

“Yes, however the majority of those affected were in part made of metal, which is a component of the human body. Your quirk went high-wire because of stress and resulted in what happened. I doubt you would be able to do something like that again unless you were trained or had your life on the line.”

Magnus had nodded, quiet, and Eir told him that he could leave whenever he felt well enough to go home since his body was rested. Magnus had made some affirmative sound but said nothing more, lost in thought as he tried to make sense of this new information. If he could manipulate bodies, could he make someone faint or fall unconscious or even…die? Could he manipulate other chemical components of the human body besides metal? And if so, how much of it? Would it be easier for him to do that if the components were inside a body?

The possibilities were so many and he was equally confused and excited. Realizing he was going to stay here thinking all day unless he was made to leave, he swung his legs off the bed and started pulling on his shoes. He was about to leave when he stopped and let his fingers trace the flower on his palm. Pain tended to travel through a soulmate bond whether they intended it or not and Magnus didn't want his soulmate to worry too much about him.

Relief quickly washed over him, as well as an angry, scolding feeling that seemed to yell to Magnus that if he pulled whatever he just pulled again his soulmate would kill him for it. Over the years they knew each other through delicate touches and shared emotions, Magnus had come to the realization that whoever his soulmate was, they could totally kick his ass. (Which wasn’t that hard to do in the first place, but still.)

Magnus took his backpack from where it was waiting for him by the foot of the bed and after a quick goodbye to Eir, he left UA.

///

Magnus found classroom 1A fairly easily and after marveling at the humongous size of the doorway – it was large enough to fit a giant though it, which made sense since some students might have a quirk that made them larger than the average human – he walked inside. Some students had already arrived, dressed in the gray blazers, red ties and dark green bottoms of the UA school uniform. Magnus didn’t stand awkwardly by the door for long because T.J saw him from where he was talking to Halfborn and Mallory and waved him over.

“You got in!” T.J cheered as soon as Magnus came close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I’m glad to see you here!”

“Me too,” Magnus chuckled, kind of nervously. “I didn’t expect to get in.”

“Well, you’re in,” Halfborn said. “And you know what that means? You’re stuck with us for the next three years!”

“Good luck,” Mallory told him cynically, but Magnus couldn’t help but smile. They were exchanging stories from their respective practical exams when Magnus noticed a green covered head walk through the door.

“Samirah!” Magnus called out. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m great, thanks. I’m glad you’re feeling alright, what you did at the end of the practical exam was insane.”

“What did he do?” T.J asked curiously and before Magnus could respond, Alex was here, answering the question for him.

“He came back to help me even though that meant he was almost crushed by a robot and then he screamed so loud people’s weapons got scared and flew out of their hands.” Alex crossed her arms over her chest, the sleeves of her uniform rolled up to her elbows, exposing her toned arms and Magnus may have stared for a moment too long. “I can’t decide whether that was brave or extremely stupid. Probably the second.”

They talked for some more time until a short black man wearing an impeccably fashionable suit walked into the classroom.

“Sit down, everyone. My name is Blitzen, also known by the hero name Creator and I will be your homeroom teacher.”

The Counsellor's Surprise.

{ AU belongs to @doritofalls ! Check them out! } Peace and quiet. Serenity filled the crisp and cool air, not even a butterfly flittering anywhere in sight to disturb the silent and still morning. The honey-gold sun slowly crept into sight, touching all areas with its warm and radiant light. Birds chirped their good morning songs, grass blades drifted gently in the soft breeze, nothing could ruin it. Max, appreciating the noiseless morning, took the opportunity to sleep in and catch up on all of those missed hours of shut eyes. Drool trailed down the corner of his lips as he snored, though, it wasn't loud enough like a bear's to stir up any true annoying noise. But it was like as soon as he thought he had earned some well-deserved rest, an all too familiar jovial and perky voice echoed through the branches, an even more bothersome guitar started to play almost straight away. "OHHHHHHHHHHHH! There's a place I know that's tucked away, a place where you and I can stay where we can go out to laugh and play and have adventures everyday! I know that sounds hard to belive, but guys and gals it's true! Camp Campbell is the place for me and you!" David. Of every possible way a morning such as tranquil as this could be ruined, it had to have been ruined by David. (Un. Fucken. Believable,) Max thought. With an angered growl, he emerged from his cot and felt a dizziness arise in his head, making his environment spin a lot harsher than it should've. To his dismay, a throbbing, stinging pain erupted in his skull, a migraine following after. This always occured if he had been awoken too abruptly and far too early. Rubbing his temples, he walked through the flaps and shot David the most aggravated expression he could think of. "David, what the hell?! People are trying to sleep you dick!" As always, David merely greeted him with his default bright smile and cheerful tone. "I know! They're going to miss out on a bea-utiful sunrise!" "A sunrise? That's what you woke up us for?!" The other campers, who tried to ignore David's admittedly annoying wake-up call, soon came out of their tents when the argument had began. Each of them were groaning and rubbing their eyes. David's breath hitched somewhat. "W.. Well, yes! Sunrises are an amazing feature about nature, Max! And--!" "No. NO. Shut up, just shut. Up. No one gives a flying fuck about your dumbass sunrises and not a single goddamn shitty camp activity you planned out for us! Can you even call it planning; it feels like you just make shit up on the dot and if it goes to hell but it works, then by all means, just throw away any original plans!" Neil blinked himself awake at Max's berating, frowning slightly as he warily approached him. "Whoa, whoa. What's your problem? You're acting like a bigger douche than usual." "What's my problem? My problem is that David woke us all up at ass in the morning for something as stupid as a fucken sunrise! Sorry if I'm a bit cranky!" Nikki shook her head and stood next to her clearly upset friend, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have to give David some credit, Max. He was just trying to be considerate." He glared. "Maybe I would if he had done it in a less obnoxious way. Did you know that was the one time -- The one time! -- I could actually close my eyes and sleep for a solid eight hours? But nope! Camp Man here decides to fuck it all up because he thinks he knows what's best for us instead of just letting us gain our own happiness in our own way so he can figure it out!" Soon, his attention averted to the male. Everybody held their breath when Max pointed a finger at him. "I can't believe you have the audacity to claim you've been working with us kids for a good portion of our ruined summer and yet you don't use your fucken brain to see a pattern here! Hell, I'VE noticed that this is the TENTH time you've done this in nearly three fucken weeks! You ever stop and wonder what we want? It's all about what you want and what you want to see. I wouldn't be half as pissed if you didn't pull this shit on Saturdays. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go try and go back to sleep. Good. Night." Without another word, Max turned himself around on the rock of his heel and charged back inside of his tent, shock and unease thick in the silent again air. It was Nikki who was brave enough to reach up in attempt to hold his hand. "David--." Attempt failed. He jerked his hand away and forced an insincere grin, clasping his hands together in a single clap. "Campers! Change of plans. Why don't you, ah, take the day off and um.. H-Hang out with Gwen for the day? I just.. Remembered I have a very busy schedule today, sooo.. Gwen's in charge." Preston felt his heart stop beating. "W-What?! But.. Who's going to help me with my costumes for next week's play?!" "You can always ask Gwen, Preston." "BUT ONLY YOU KNOW THE DESIGNS, DAMMIT!" "I don't see the issue in teaching them to her." "You don't understand, it.." The child paused and frowned, his heartbroken expression triggering a pang of guilt in David's chest. "..It wouldn't be the same." "Who's going to help me with space camp?" asked Space Kid. "Who's going to help me repair the ramp?" asked Ered. "Who's going to help me with my painting?" asked Dolph. "Who's going to help me clean out the dove poop from my hat and actually get me to laugh about it instead of feeling embarrassed about it?" asked Harrison. "David," started Neil gently. "Who's going to actually care about us? The last time Gwen was left 'in charge,'" he air quoted, "we were raided by the Woodscouts and she moved not a single bone in her entire body to do something about it. You forget that she's the same woman who's recorded another grown woman attack a child in hopes it would go viral and she would earn a fair amount of cash from it." Nikki crossed her arms. "Yeah. We've tried going one day without you in the past but things never turned out well." The male bit down on the edge of his thumb before sighing lightly and patting himself down in search of his keys. When he found them, he started to depart from the children. "It's just for today, kids. Come on, give her a chance, please? For me?" Not like they had a choice. Before they could argue again, he had made it crystal clear he was going to head out for the rest of the day. Neil sighed in exasperation and defeat. "That's just great. The one adult that gives a shit about us just walked away because Max was on his man-period. Did you guys see the hatred in his eyes?" "Yeah," replied Harrison. "I would say Max had been holding that in for a while now." "Probably longer than we think," added Nerris. Neither of their comments put Neil's nerves at ease. "No, I mean.. I think Max wanted to hurt David the way he did. And, granted, he tries to hurt him almost every day of the week, this time it felt.. Different, didn't it? If there's been another time where he struck where it hurt, I don't think any of us were there to see it." Nurf grunted. "I don't see what the big deal is. So David's feelings got a little hurt, big whup." Preston stomped his foot on the ground, somewhat offended himself the other had dared to say that. "THE BIG DEAL, NURF, IS THAT DAVID IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN KEEP SHIT IN CHECK! WITHOUT HIM, WE CANNOT FUNCTION PROPERLY AS A CAMP OR EVEN OURSELVES!" "Don't yell at me. You know what I'm like when I'm angry." SLAP! "Not everything is about YOU, Nurf," Preston spat out, retracting his hand after it had left a large red handprint on his cheek. "Then again I'm not surprised that someone as thick-headed and insensitive as yourself would only think about yourself. He has been there for every single one of us when we needed him to be. I say we do the same when he returns! We can write him a song or even throw a play! Who's with me?!" Neil nodded with a smile at the idea. "Hey, that's actually a really good idea! We had a Quartermaster appreciation day. I don't see why there shouldn't be a David appreciation day!" Nikki gasped. "And him being gone gives us the perfect time to work on a surprise!" Neil rubbed his chin. "Alright, gang. Any idea you have, just go for it. All that matters is that we show David how much he means to us. Let's get to work!" > Everyone had worked hard that night to set up a surprise. They had baked a cake, tidied up the cabin -- Why, Neil even managed to convince Max into apologising to him and help everyone make the camp look nice. But everybody, even Gwen, noticed just how late it had gotten and their fellow camp counsellor had yet to return. Max sat down at front, anxiously waiting for his car to pull up at any second. Gwen volunteered to clean up David's room and make his bed. She was alone. David left at 5:09 A.M. and it was 8:32 P.M. The thought made her chew on her lip. Her phone soon buzzed. When she read the text, she was beyond relieved to know David was still okay, the feeling of her stress vanishing immediately returned and doubled when reading his text. She felt sick. She felt appalled. She felt unsure of what to do. | Moron. | { Gwen. Get QM and meet me out in the back. } { Don't tell the campers that I'm here yet. } { I killed a man and I need help hiding his body. } She couldn't believe David -- Of all people -- Had killed a man, let alone he requested she helps hide the evidence! If they get caught, they'd be thrown in jail and the campers would forever live in fear and shame and be forced to carry around the burden of knowing two murderers who were counsellors in disguise. But for some odd reason, a reason Gwendolyn herself may never know why.. | Moron. | { Gwen. Get QM and meet me out in the back. } { Don't tell the campers that I'm here yet. } { I killed a man and I need help hiding his body. } {Gwen, please answer me. This isn't a joke.} {Gwen??} {Sorry. I got distracted.} {Okay. I'll help you.} {Just. This. Once.}