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helpmemomikilledaman · 1 year

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Hajime: My ultimate goal is to punch God in the eye, just to spite him one last time.

Makoto: You know, when Nagito comes over, Hajime can get a little… Kaede: Psycho? Kyoko: Scary? Shuichi: Drunk? Makoto: All three.

Kaede: You have to apologize to them Kokichi. Kokichi: Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

Shuichi: "I lost a bet." Shuichi: The second-most ominous phrase in existence. Kaede: What's the first? Shuichi: "Let's make a bet."

Shuichi: If you kill me, my teeth only have a 2 drop rate. Hajime: What? Shuichi: Good luck.

Hajime: Whatever happened to the concept of less is more? Nagito: But if less is more, then just think of how much more 'more' will be!

Kaede: We’re going to defeat you with the power of friendship. Kokichi: We’re not friends. Kaede, holding an axe: We’re going to defeat you with the power of incredible violence.

Kyoko: If bees can be fish and boys can be girls, then why can't my dad love me? Byakuya: I thought I was going to have to yell at you, but now I think I should hug you.

Comments under an image of a really hot knife cutting bread Kokichi: Imagine stabbing someone with this knife. Shuichi: It would instantly cauterize the wound, so the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful. Chiaki: if you want information it is Makoto: why would you STAB a person when you can have TOAST?

Makoto: I want a bf. Byakuya: Do you mean best friend, boyfriend or bread feast? Because you’re being really vague here.

Kokichi: Do you know the ABCs of first aid? Chiaki: A. Bone. Coming out of the skin is very bad.

Makoto: You’ve got to learn to love yourself. Nagito: But don't you hate yourself. Makoto: Yeah, but this is about you. Stay focused.

Nagito: I feel like the world would be better if I'd never been born. Kyoko: Aw… that's not true. Kyoko: It'd be exactly the same. Kyoko: You're not important.

Shuichi: Well Kokichi, I have to say, I'm really disappointed. Kokichi: Well, you didn't HAVE to say it. You could've just thought it.

Makoto: Here's two facts about me. Makoto: 1. I hate hot people. Makoto: 2. I'm a hypocrite.

Kaede: Fellas, I gotta know for science. Is the opposite of red green or blue? Makoto: Technically a mix of green and blue? Kaede: So blurple. Makoto: That's implying you're mixing blue and purple. Kaede: Would you rather have fucking bleen? MOTHERFUCKING GRUE? Makoto: You were confusing before but now I'm scared.

Kokichi: I just wanna be called cute 21/7. Shuichi: Why no 24/7? Kokichi: Snack breaks.

Makoto, to Shuichi: If Hajime doesn't say "I'm King of the world" within an hour on that boat, I will give you my next pay check. Hajime, within 5 minutes of getting on the boat: I'M KING OF THE WORLD!!!

Byakuya: And have you learnt anything this Christmas, Shuichi? Shuichi: …Not really. Byakuya: Nothing? Shuichi: Tell you one thing I have learnt—Christmas; ultimately, commercial holiday. Who's the real winner at Christmas? Amazon. they have drones now! Tiny little dystopian slaves delivering iPads and headphones. I ordered a toaster; It was on the doorstep five hours later! Do we need that? It was 4.99! For a toaster! I mean, someone's being exploited there.

Shuichi: Where have you been all day? Hajime: Oh, just dealing with things way beyond my maturity level.

Nagito: Hajime annoyed me today so I told them that I can’t wait to see what they have planned for our special day tomorrow. Kaede: There is nothing special about tomorrow. Nagito: But there is something special about watching the color leave their face as panic takes over.

Shuichi: I’m the smartest, wisest person in this group. Chiaki: Really? Then why is your hand stuck in a vending machine? Shuichi: I paid for my Mars Bar, I’m getting my Mars Bar.

Hajime: WHO THE FUCK- Kaede: Whoa, language! Hajime: I speak fucking English! Kaede: …

Chiaki: I need a long word. Shuichi: T-rex but the long one.

Kyoko: sSSSHIT- I BURNT MY LIP- Kokichi: …Why the fuck would you even drink coffee with a METAL STRAW in the FIRST PLACE?? Kyoko: BECAUSE WE WERE OUT OF THE PLASTIC ONES!

Makoto: :) Hajime: >:( Makoto: Turn that frown upside down! Hajime: ):< Makoto: Not sure what I was expecting…

Makoto: So I can either do something dumb that could very well get me injured or I can listen to Hajime and not do the thing, Makoto: Well there’s a clear right answer here. Makoto: proceeds to throw five packs of mentos into a barrel full of diet coke

Kyoko: Hi, could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire?? Makoto: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔 Nagito: Why were you microwaving a lemon??? Makoto: I read boiling lemons helps cover up up bad smells (I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges) but I didn't own any pots. Shuichi: Did you burn an orange too? How??? Makoto: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

Kaede: Hajime likes to win. When they were 8, a little Club Scout friend of theirs bragged they could sell the most cookies. Kaede: Damned if Hajime didn't walk the neighborhood till they got blisters on their feet, and won by 10 boxes. Kaede: Best part is, Hajime wasn't even a Club Scout.

Nagito: You know, Hajime, when you generalize, you tell general… lies. Hajime: … Hajime: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

Nagito: You know, Kokichi, when you generalize, you tell general… lies. Kokichi: … Kokichi: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

Hajime: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine. Nagito: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again. Hajime: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns?? Nagito: Is it working?

#danganronpa #komahina #naegami #saiouma #hinanami #saimatsu #naegiri #platonic or romantic your choice

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birchisnotokay · 1 year

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whatever I've done

full image

#some uh doodles from last night right on the end of my sketchbook—now all traditional doodles will be on a different book [:#that next book uh probably the one with lines cause i couldnt find more empty books...............#thsc #thsc art #thsc fanart #the henry stickmin collection #henry stickmin #my art #charles calvin #stickvin #←implied #platonic or romantic your choice #also might digitalize this when the weekend come #ALSO ALSP ITS WEDNESDAY SPARKLE ON EVERYBODY #also³ ill be trying to mix in some pencil in my doodles now cause fancy shadows

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bet-on-me-13 · 8 months

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Cass has a new friend

So! Cass has trouble making Civilain friends.

Because of her selective Muteness and general shyness, she doesn't really have an easy time communicating with people enough for them to want to be her friend.

Even when those people know ASL, she still doesn't feel like they can understand her at all. Her life is just too complex, and her emotions are too complicated for her to really feel like she has connected with anyone.

The only people who she feels she can relate to are the Batfamily, because they know about her past and most of them have similar enough experiences to understand her more intrinsically than others.

This changes when she meets Danny.

He is one of her classmates at Gotham Academy, and he sits next to her for most of her classes.

And he becomes her friend surprisingly quickly. She doesn't understand why, but he gets her in a way none of the other students do. She can also tell from his body language that he isn't trying to be her friend for the money connected to her name either, unlike some of the others who have tried approaching her.

She just clicks with him, and he becomes her first civilians friend.

And it's not a case of Ghost Speak being her instinctive language due to Liminality or anything like that, Danny just understands her because he has gone through a rough childhood as well and can relate to her in ways that neither of them can fully understand.

They just both instinctual knew "they are like me" without consciously realizing it.

This is a Danny/Cass ship if you haven't caught on yet. Whether it's a platonic ship or a romantic ship is up to you.

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Dc x dp #Dcxdp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Cassandra Cain #Danny Fenton #Danny/Cass #Platonic Ship #Romantic Ship #Your choice on which one is better #I wrote this at 2 am #No story just fluff

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saturncodedstarlette · 4 months

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Y/N : *playing scrabble with Price* I win!

Captain Price : Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. There is no such word as that!

Y/N : There certainly is! 😌

Captain Price : Fine, I’ll look it up, and if it isn’t in the dictionary, I win.

Y/N : We don’t have a dictionary.

Captain Price : Yes we do.

Y/N : Not anymore, the robbers took it!

Captain Price : They stole our dictionary?

Y/N : That’s right, too bad 😙

Captain Price : Love, “disdam” is not a word, you made it up.

Y/N : It’s a word!

Captain Price : Fine. Use it in a sentence then.

Y/N : . . .

Y/N : You’re no good at this disdam game! *get up and walks away*

Captain Price : *in shock because ego just got hurt*

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dragonofthedepths · 1 year

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Halfa Batman. 19.2.23

DP x DC. Batman, Superman, Batfam, Danny Phantom. Batman & Superman, Batman & Danny.

Batman dies. (This is not the surprising part, given his job.) He comes back. (His family’s track record also makes this less impressive than normal.) He doesn’t do either one all the way.

Some kind of fight with the League of Assassins takes place, Batman gets tossed into the Lazarus pit along with a pack of dynamite or something, and the resulting faulty natural portal to the Ghost Zone + explosion manages to do just the right amounts of kill and revive him to yeet him to half-ghost status.

He does not tell anyone, of course. Healthy communication who?

He manages to keep it from his family as he figured out invisibility, intangibility, and his transformation.

All the criminal element of Gotham knows is that Batman is somehow even more spooky now.

The first person he does tell is Superman. He panics, looses control of his powers, and calls Clark for help because he’s floating several feet in the air and can’t get down.

Eventually he meets Danny, and that’s how he finds out about the anti-ecto laws and gets the horrifying revelation that not only is it legal for the government to kidnap and dissect experiment on him now, Clark is technically breaking the law every minute he’s not turning him in.

(Danny’s logical ‘that’s Batman’ side of his brain is being drowned out by his concern for the new baby halfa.)

Day (629/100) in my #∞daysofwriting @the-wip-project 19th of Feb

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wee-miss-noone · 2 years

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Sooo.... do you prefer the Goth and Lover-Of-Life-And-Finer-Things-In-It Dynamic where the Goth ditches their Life-Loving BF(F) in overly dramatic fashion....

...ooor the Goth and Lover-Of-Life-And-Finer-Things-In-It Dynamic where the Lover-Of-Life-And-Finer-Things-In-It ditches and ghosts the Goth in overly dramatic fashion (possibly sending the Goth into a self-destructive spiral involving a lot of drinking and a mental breakdown)?

just askin’

#sandman spoliers #good omens spoilers #the witcher spoliers #ofmd spoilers #Ineffable Husbands #blackbonnet #geraskier #morpheus x hob #can be read as platonic or romantic your choice #yes I did flip the picture of crowley and az for the sole purpose of having all goths on one side and all lovers-of-life-etc. on the other

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yerkes-dodson-curve · 4 months

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Headcannon Virgil likes true crime but it always makes him really anxious before trying to sleep. Logan introduces him to Agatha Christie novels which have just enough murder and crime to keep Virgil's interest, but aren't written in a scary enough way for him to have a panic attack over it. He's downloaded every novel to listen to as he goes to bed

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #headcanon #analogical #platonic or romantic #your choice really #it started after the first q&a where logan said his favourite novel was the murder of roger ackroyd #and virgil really needed to know the ending #so he read it and just slowly got addicted

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incesthemes · 4 months

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"their relationship is romantic" "their relationship is familial" "their relationship is platonic" you're thinking too narrow. their relationship goes beyond labels. the family is inherently queer. their platonic love is romantic. the erotic is familial. each one is the other and the other is them

#.txt #i've gotten to the point of relationship anarchy where i no longer understand the obsession with labeling relationships #there's a post floating around like 'it doesn't matter if you view them as romantic or platonic the point is that they love each other'#and i get the message. however may i propose that distinctions such as that don't even have to matter. consider #bold claim probably. but whatever i didn't have the choice to think about love in a normative way and as a consequence i have thoughts #of course i am thinking about wincest but it applies everywhere. jopzier even #jopson views crozier as a surrogate parent but in an inherently queer way. does that mean he want to fuck his mom? probably not #but the fixation and need for redemption turns the traditionally familial relationship into something far more #do you understand #once you leave the normative behind labels become useless #do sam and dean love each other romantically or platonically or familially? consider: it doesn't matter. there are no words to describe it #their love is queer in the sense that it extends beyond normativity. society holds no sway over them. they are ungovernable #i find it ultimately unhelpful to discuss fiction in normative terms when the characters themselves exist outside of normative society #shows like supernatural and the terror are perfect examples. sam and dean were never normal and franklin crew left normal behind #the arctic doesn't care if you fuck your mom. the impala doesn't care if you kiss your brother #this isn't really about anything i just saw that post the other day and i was like. why doesn't this Hit for me. well this is why #however it IS helpful to discuss fiction set within normative society in relation to normativity. it's relevant!#most stories are not however set within the bounds of normativity. that's kinda the whole point of a lot of fiction #baby i explore relationship anarchy in ways that you couldn't even imagine #<-tldr #i have a tendency to write essays in the notes every time i post something. sorry about that. it feels safer here and i am skittish

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toxinoire · 5 months

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"Marinette, your coping mechanisms aren't healthy. Please, go see a therapist. You don't need to say that you're Ladybug." Said Alya.

And she's not wrong.

Marinette's first response is to push everyone away and isolate herself. It's why Alya, Alix, Rose, Juleka, and Myléne were akumatized as the Gang if Secrets, after Marinette told them that "I don't need friends."

Alya saw Marinette tell Chat Noir that maybe she doesn't need him, when she knows that what she said was a load of bullshit. Marinette loves that cat more than everyone (second only to Adrien), whether she'd admit it or not.

Then she'd try to face it alone. Alone. Even when it's clear she isn't okay, she tries to face it alone.

Her next response is to lie. Not in a selfish and deceiving way, no. She'll lie for others. Heck, she let Adrien believe that the scarf she made him was from his father all because he looked so happy. Marinette's most selfish lie, in Alya's opinion, is her alter ego, but even that isn't for evil intentions. She lies to spare others the pain. Not a good thing, but it's not selfish.

Then, she'd run. Figuratively, but she'd run. From her feelings, from the world. From everyone. She'd just run.

And to top it all off, she'd wear that same warm, kind, and gentle smile everyday, fooling everybody. Making everyone think that she's okay. No one even realizes, Marinette's figurative mask is even more convincing than her mask as Ladybug.

Alya hates seeing her like this.

Marinette is the first real hero she's met, even before she knew about her alter ego.

Of course, she wasn't perfect. She had her flaws, she's made really bad choices in the past, but would make up for it, and she keeps trying to be a better person everyday.

The girl would always be there to help others in every way she can. Everytime, without asking for anything in return.

"Please, Marinette." Alya pleaded. "Just try it."

Alya waits for Marinette's response.

Marinette doesn't say anything.

#miraculous #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #alyanette #whether you wanna see this as platonic or romantic #it's your choice #but the main theme is angst #marinette angst #marinette deserves a hug #heck she really needs one

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cyber-streak-2 · 10 months

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Hi! I've seen you do requests, so... Can I request g1/idw/mtmte characters of your choice with a bot!reader who thought they were a cybertronian? (Maybe there were even some hints, that bot!reader was never one.) However, in reality they are a human-made robot with high-level AI with appearance modelled after a cybertronian.

After realization bot!reader is heartbroken, and they feel like a complete outsider.

Sorry if I've missed something and requested something wrong.

(IDW1/MTMTE) Red Alert, (IDW1/MTMTE) Misfire, & (G1) Optimus Prime with a Human-made Robot Reader, who was thought to be Cybertronian:

Red Alert

{After having met you for the first time, he always felt like there was just... something about you. Not bad, just something different.}

{He couldn’t ever really figure it out though. You seemed just like a normal Cybertronian in every way- minus how the medics would occasionally mention something about your frame when they worked on you.}

{When he eventually left the Lost Light with Fort Max, you joined the two of them. And that was when Red, alongside Max and Cerebros, started noticing more things about you.}

{You didn’t bleed energon—you didn’t bleed anything at all, it seemed—at least from what Red noticed. He started to mentally take notes on everything that he noticed that was a little off.}

{Eventually, some files leak out, and the four of you happen to read them. The files reveal multiple things—among them, it reveals that some unimportant humans had made Cybertronian-look-alike-robots. Pictures are in the files... with you in there.}

{It’s obviously a surprise... especially to you. All this time, you thought you were one of them—a Cybertronian—but you weren’t, you were something different. And just a ‘little test’ as words in the files put it.}

{Throughout all of this, Red, Max, and Cerebros attempt to comfort and reassure you.}

Optimus Prime

{You just kind of appeared at the base, wandering around. Nobody knew of you, you were never seen back on Cybertron. But, Optimus allowed you to join, allowed you to become an Autobot.}

{He did notice certain things about you, but didn’t care about any differences. Although, he did get some comments here and there from some of the other Autobots about you.}

{Nobody was ever really mean about it. They were simply confused and curious. “Hey, do you notice how-“ “Hey, did you see how they were-“ “Did you see when-“ is what Optimus hears a lot, but he asks them to not bother you, and to quiet down about it.}

{The reveal comes when some humans come to the Autobots base, claiming that they want you back- not wanting the Decepticons to mess with their creation, and they even show Optimus some proof for this fact.}

{You, along with the rest, are shocked- despite all of the things Optimus and the others would notice, they didn’t really expect this. Although some do end up comparing you to Nightbird.}

{While still processing this new information, also learning that they erased the whole ‘made by humans’ thing of your memory, you don’t want to go with these people- and thankfully, they leave eventually.}

{When Optimus eventually goes to speak to you, you’re gone- but he quickly manages to find you outside of the base, where you reveal all of what you’re feeling about this.}

{The Prime reassures you that, while you may not be an actual Cybertronian, he and the others still care for you, that you aren’t an outsider, and that you’ll always be an Autobot.}

Misfire

{They all ended up going to Earth, and finding an old lab, where they found you in there, alive, but not awake. And long story short, Misfire and the others took you with them.}

{When you explain yourself to the group, you explain how you’re a neutral (and they don’t force you into becoming a ‘Con thankfully), and you just have no idea how you ended up in there.}

{You enjoy your time with the Scavengers a lot- especially Misfire. There can be moments when you just need some alone time from him, but you still enjoy hanging out with him.}

{Misfire had quickly noticed weird things about you, which he would eventually tell the others. How you seemed to freeze/glitch every now and then, how you never seemed to bleed energon, etc.}

{Spinister even tells him that something feels different/wrong about your frame, but he just... has no idea. He’s only given you little checkups here and there.}

{Eventually, the truth comes out when you and Misfire are on Earth again with the others and wandering around yet another abandoned lab. You find some tapes that Misfire decides to take.}

{When the two of you leave the lab, some old humans approach, claiming that you “belong” to them, and consider that Misfire and the others must’ve stolen you. You two book it.}

{Back on the ship, while explaining the weird interaction, you two decide to watch the tapes... which reveals the process of those humans creating you- before having to hurry out, leaving you behind, when something was happening.}

{For a while, you don’t even want to talk to any of the others while processing this- so you lock yourself in your habsuite. Although Misfire manages to get himself in there, where you eventually start letting it out.}

{He tells you that all of them are kind of outsiders/outcasts too, in a way, sort of. They all just suck as Decepticons, they’re horrible. “You’re a Scavenger, I think you fit in well with us.”}

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 6 months

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Saw you had writing prompts up and thought I’d send in something that brain conjured up in the early hours of dawn

“What if I want them to kill me? What if I want them to try? What if I want to see them realize that as much as I and others have tried. They…We can’t?’

d’know if this was what you meant by prompts but enjoy a depressed God?

More Than Human

----

At his very core, Janus was human.

One might say he was more than human, being a God, but being more than something doesn’t take away from that something, it just adds onto it.

----

| Ao3 | Next Part |

Warnings: implied/referenced suicide attempts, touch starvation, depression (with a somewhat positive ending)

Pairings: platonic roceit, though could be perceived as romantic if you so wished.

Word count: 1601

Notes: If I had a nickel for every time I wrote a fic with Mortal!Roman and a god!side I'd have two - (gets killed)

I really needed this lmao so tysm for the prompt! I've been really struggling with writing inspiration recently so this was really great!

It's been so long since I posted something new - it feels so good lmao. I left it fairly open ended so I could write more if anyone wanted it <3 just send an ask!! I'm always down for prompts :)

----

Janus was, first and foremost, a God

To be precise, he was the God of deception, trickery. In some communities he was the Guardian of all Evil, in others he was a representation of temptation, sin, all that was wrong with the world.

At his very core, Janus was human.

One might say he was more than human, being a God, but being more than something doesn’t take away from that something, it just adds onto it.

Janus was still human, deep down, he always would be, no matter how many layers were added - immortality, reality bending powers, worshippers, temples - he couldn’t bury the human parts. Though he tried, he wasn’t indifferent. No matter what he did the harsh words still stung when they tore at him, the hatred many felt towards him sat heavy in his chest, loneliness clawed at him like a starving animal - and he was their prey. As it had been for years.

He had been naive, a thousand years ago, to become a God. But they’d needed someone to shoulder the burden of the world's evils. They needed someone to shield them from the terrors, they needed someone who could face the lies and treachery and not be torn down by them. He had been foolish then, just a boy who was different, a boy who wanted to help.

There was no way out, either. Janus had tried his best, he’d begged the universe, he’d searched. He’d tried to cut himself off from the world but that had only made the lonely, empty feeling in his chest worse, he’d tried to end it all, when he had no options left, but that hadn’t worked either.

You couldn’t kill a God, after all. He wasn’t the only one who tried.

—-

“You’re not going to defend yourself?” Said the knight, dressed in shining silver armour, a red cloak fastened at the shoulder flowing behind him, a confident expression turning to confusion. The challenger stood before him in his temple, shining sword drawn and pointed at Janus’ chest where he sat on his uncomfortable, stone throne.

“No,” He answered simply.

“You’ll just… let me kill you?” He said, faltering, the only movement was his fiery red hair in the wind.

Janus leaned on his elbow and didn’t say anything. The knight lowered his sword just a little.

“Armies will try - if I fail,” The knight said, widening his arms in a gesture, “More people will come, try to kill you, why just allow it?”

“Maybe I want them to kill me,” Janus said softly, not quite looking at the knight, “What if I want you, them, everyone to try? What if I want to see them realise that as much as I and others have tried. They…We can’t?’”

The knight stared at the God before him, eyes widening as he realised, “You… whyever would you want to die?”

Once again, Janus said nothing. The knight sheathed his sword and Janus sighed softly. He supposed today wouldn’t be the day.

With the soft clanking of the knight’s heavy armour, he stepped forward, slowly approaching Janus’ throne as though he was prepared to be attacked. Even if he never went to draw his sword again, Janus could see the fear growing in his eyes with every step as he got closer. Janus didn’t move.

“Why do you want to die, Janus: God of Deceit, guardian of Evil,” the Knight asked, now standing over him. How interesting, Janus thought, that a mortal would have the courage to do such a thing. Many Gods would have felt that something of the sort was an act of disrespect, possibly even choosing to smite down the mortal who dared to do such a thing, Janus found he didn’t have the energy to care. Instead he just smiled softly - at least this made his life just a little more interesting, even if it did nothing to lessen the emptiness in his chest.

He sighed, he’s certain the knight would listen if he turned him away, but Janus had yearned for someone to talk to for hundreds of years. This knight would leave soon anyway and Janus would never see him again, what did it matter.

“Tell me your name,” Janus said, the Knight tilted his head and frowned, “Tell me your name, first, and I’ll answer your question.”

After a long, thoughtful pause, the knight sighed, “My name is Roman - Sir Roman Greenheart.”

“A lovely name,” Janus said softly, Roman smiled tentatively, “Now- your question… Why do I want to die? The answer is that living is painful.”

“Oh…” Roman said softly, “I would have thought a God would have an easy life.”

“Easy and painless are not the same,” Janus says softly, “People try to kill me on a monthly basis, Roman, and that’s barely scratching the surface.”

The pair were silent for a moment, before Roman gestured to the floor by Janus’ feet, “May I sit down?” He asked.

“You may,” Janus said. With permission, Roman folded to sit cross legged by Janus’ feet. He wondered silently why Roman’s attitude had changed so abruptly - minutes ago he’d been prepared to attempt to kill him. He wouldn’t ask though, instead simply ignoring him, resting his elbow on the uncomfortable arm of the throne and resting his chin atop his fist.

Minutes spent in silence later, Roman must have shifted, because Janus felt his shoulder brush against his leg, sending a jolt of warmth through him, strong enough to make his gasp. He hoped Roman wouldn’t notice, but as the knight turned to look at him, he knew he wasn’t so lucky.

“What was that?” Roman asked, frowning up at him - though the look seemed to be one of concern, Janus couldn’t be certain.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” Janus said, making a point to look forward instead of down at Roman. Unfortunately that left him unprepared for Roman laying his hand atop Janus’ knee. His whole leg jolted as he flinched away in surprise at the way the touch burned.

“What are you doing to me,” Janus hissed, trying to sound menacing though he was fairly certain his fear and confusion were showing through his facade.

Roman simply frowned, “How… How long has it been since someone touched you?”

For a moment, Janus couldn’t think of an answer because when he thought about it, Janus couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched by another person outside of combat. His silence seemed to be enough of an answer for Roman.

“I didn’t know Gods could be touch starved,” Roman said softly. Janus’ frown deepened.

“Will you stop being vague and let me in on whatever odd breakthrough you’re having?” He asked, voice tired but still a little snappish, Roman jumped.

“Oh- um…” he sighed, “I believe you might be touch starved.”

“...Meaning?” Janus asked, frowning down at the knight with a raised eyebrow.

“You’ve gone too long without touch,” Roman said, sighing, “So you aren’t used to it - people need touch to be happy.”

“I am not a person.” Janus pointed out, frowning, he wasn’t even sure why Roman was even still here - now he was telling him he had this strange sickness of some kind? Who did he think he was?

“You don’t have to be a human to be a person,” Roman pointed out, voice irritatingly soft.

Janus narrowed his eyes, “Why are you still here?”

“Why haven’t you told me to leave?” Roman challenged, Janus blinked. People didn’t usually stand up to him - well, not after trying and failing to kill him, anyway. They usually ran in fear after that - that’s how it always went.

Roman held his gaze for a long, quiet moment, before Janus sighed.

“I don’t know,” he said. Eventually, Roman’s expression became one of pity, maybe concern.

“You…” Roman trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, “Do you have anyone to talk to? Other Gods?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Janus said, tone growing icy. Roman frowned, but seemed to understand as he stood up.

“Well - I must get back to my village duties,” He said with a small smile, confusing Janus greatly - though he tried not to show it. Why on earth was he smiling?

“Good,” Janus said sharply, “Leave me be with your prying questions and annoying presence.”

Chuckling, the knight turned away, though the glint in his eyes certainly worried Janus - if only a little, though he tried immediately to get the sight out of his mind, “I will return here in a week's time - for no reason - perhaps I’ll bring some cookies.”

Janus frowned as he watched him leave. Was this mortal trying to tempt him, a God, to return to his own temple, with the promise of cookies? He said nothing as Roman walked away and continued to sit there once the knight was out of sight over the crest of the hill. Janus thought he shouldn’t come back next week - as the mortal was clearly inviting him to - but he wanted to. He really wanted to and Janus wasn’t one to deny himself what he wants despite having not wanted much other than death for the last few hundred years.

Despite that, and despite his harshness towards Sir Roman, he still wanted to see the strange mortal again.

So for the first time he actually kept track of the passing days and a week later he returned to that temple. For the first time he appeared before a knight without hoping that it would be the last time he did so.

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #janus sanders #ts janus #roceit #(platonic or romantic its your choice lol)#roman sanders #ts roman #fanfic #fanfiction #rowans writings

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hopeintheashes · 10 months

Text

been trying to swim with both my hands behind my back

The Bear. Sydney and Carmy. Immediately post-2x10. for the @badthingshappenbingo square "Caught in a Storm"

"Oh," he says, voice distant. "It's really fucking raining." "Yeah," she says, instead of I told you so. Wraps her arms around herself. The wet bandana is still in her hand. She's going to have to do something with it. She can't for the life of her imagine what. It feels like she's thrown up all of her resolve. Like gravity has given up. Like she's untethered from the floor. He turns around suddenly. "You can go, you know. You don't have to—" He's a mirror of her, arms wrapped around himself— "Stay," he finishes like it wasn't what he wanted to say. She can see the headache in the pull of the muscles of his face. "Well," she says, and it's quieter than she'd meant. "It's raining. So." He looks up from under his hair where it's falling in his eyes; looks impossibly young; looks like all of the sinews of his entire self have been wound tight like over-tuned piano wires and at least a third of them have already given way.

Read it below or on AO3.

The rain comes all at once. Without warning, if you haven't checked your phone in the last three and a half hours.

She decides her stomach is going to have to be able to handle going inside.

Tina hands her water on her way in the door and pats her shoulder sympathetically, then goes back to making sure the last touches of the kitchen cleanup are done. Gary's shaking hands with a guy with some sort of… chainsaw? and showing him out the door. Marcus and Richie are nowhere to be seen.

Natalie appears around the corner, and she's smiling but her eyes and her mouth are complicated, a little bit sad. She wraps Sydney up in an unexpected hug and then pulls back like she's afraid she might have gone too far, and Syd smiles at her reassuringly.

"We fucking did it," Nat says. Sydney nods, holding her gaze and then breaking it to look at the destroyed walk-in door.

"Carmy's out?" she says, even though obviously Carmy is out, because it's easier than any of the other questions she could ask about that.

Natalie presses her lips together, worrying them between her teeth. "He is." Eyes flicking toward the office.

"Okay." She can see Pete through the window into the dining room, waiting for Nat. Infinite patience, that guy. Baffling, but in a sweet way. Sydney looks at the office door, then back at Nat. "I've got him. You go."

So uncertain, so young: "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yes." She can still taste the stomach acid on her tongue. "Go. I'd say try to beat the rain, but I guess it's already here."

Nat blinks at the front window like she hadn't realized. "Oh. Yeah. Okay."

Pete holds up two umbrellas through the window in the door, smiling like he would be happy to wait there all night.

"Go," she says insistently, and Natalie pulls her in to kiss her on the cheek, and then she's back through the door and Pete's got his arm around her and is trying to put up one of the umbrellas before they're even out the door. Nat swats it down and she's laughing, head tipped against his, arm in arm on their way out into the rain.

The kitchen is clean. She should've helped. Guilt twists in her gut, and she breathes through it, because she does not want to end up back out in the alley again.

Tina appears beside her again and Sydney starts. "I'm going to go," Tina says, and Syd nods on autopilot. Somehow everyone else has disappeared. "They're predicting floods and shit. Make sure you get out of here safe, okay?"

"Okay."

"You did good, Chef," Tina says, peering up at her until Sydney meets her gaze.

Sydney makes herself nod again. "You too, Chef. Good night."

-- -- --

She hesitates in front of the office, and then goes inside.

Carmy's pacing. One hand in his hair, the other holding an unlit cigarette. Putting it to his lips like he's gonna risk burning the whole place down. Pulling it away again.

"You're out," she says.

"I'm out." Doesn't look at her. His ears and his eyes and his nose are rimmed in red. "What the fuck happened out there?"

"We made it work." She's going for confident, but the panic is back, the acid in her throat and the shake in her hands and the goddamn fucking ticket machine printing again and again—

"Syd." He touches her arms between her wrists and her whites and it's the ice of his skin that pulls her back, grounds her, eyes locked with his, and she swallows hard and breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Yeah," she says, "No, it's okay, I just, I was just—" she gestures with a grimace— "throwing up everything I've eaten in the last three years and I thought for a second it was gonna happen again, which doesn't seem like it should be possible and yet here we fucking are, but. Yeah. I'm good now. So." She breaks off and he's still got his hands on her, his eyes on her, and she swallows hard and bites the inside of her lip to keep from rambling any more.

"Syd." Impossibly serious. "You have my full attention. This has my full attention."

She blinks at him. They're the right words, and yet something feels wrong. "Okay?"

He doesn't say anything else, just looks toward the doorway like he's not sure whether it's safe to leave the room.

"Everyone else is gone," she says, stepping back from his touch and running a hand over her hair. It catches her bandana, wet from the alley. She pulls it off. Shakes out her braids. "It's raining."

He looks at her like that explains nothing, but pulls a hand down his face. The cigarette is still between his fingers. Waiting in this uncertain in-between.

"Okay," he says. She's still a little dizzy from nausea, but he looks a little dizzy like he hasn't been breathing right: shallow, barely getting any new oxygen in his lungs. It's the carbon dioxide, says some far-off voice in her head that for some reason sounds like Richie. When you hyperventilate during a panic attack. Not enough carbon dioxide. Counterintuitive but true.

She steps away from the door and he goes out like a man in a dream into the empty kitchen. The empty dining room.

"Oh," he says, voice distant even though she'd followed him there. "It's really fucking raining."

"Yeah," she says, instead of I told you so. Wraps her arms around herself. The wet bandana is still in her hand. She's going to have to do something with it. She can't for the life of her imagine what. It feels like she's thrown up all of her resolve. Like gravity has given up. Like she's untethered from the floor.

He turns around suddenly. "You can go, you know. You don't have to—" He's a mirror of her, arms wrapped around himself— "Stay," he finishes like it wasn't what he wanted to say. She can see the headache in the pull of the muscles of his face.

"Well," she says, and it's quieter than she'd meant. "It's raining. So."

He looks up from under his hair where it's falling in his eyes; looks impossibly young; looks like all of the sinews of his entire self have been wound tight like over-tuned piano wires and at least a third of them have already given way.

-- -- --

She changes into the spare clothes in her locker; puts the gift from Carmy (fuck, Carm, what a gift) away carefully and doesn't close the door, just drapes her bandana over the top of it to dry. Goes back out to the darkened front of house to watch the downpour.

Carmy's back, cigarette smoke and the smell of rain on pavement clinging to his clothes. "My shoes got wet," he says, and Sydney looks down and he's in his socks; shoes left at the door between the kitchen and the front. The sidewalk is a river in front of their door. Lightning flashes in the distance and they wait, breathless, for the thunder, and exhale when it finally comes.

She steps out of her own shoes. Feels the floor through her socks. Clean enough to eat off, right? That's the deal.

The rain gets louder. The lights flicker, but stay on.

The walk-in is fucked. More fucked if the power goes out.

Carmy steps up to the window with her. Shoulder to shoulder. She can hear him breathe.

Another flash of lightning, and the eerie blue light of a transformer in the distance blowing to hell.

"Fuck," she says, at the same time as Carmy pulls in a ragged breath and the same time as the thunder hits.

They're in the dark.

Carmy's hand brushes hers, his knuckles against the back of her hand, just this quick reassurance that he's still here. Still freezing. Still here.

She's mentally going through all the food they've got stored but there's nothing they can do. Only good thing is that there wasn't that much left after service. If the power's still out when their next shipment is due, that's when they'll really need a plan.

"Fuck!" He's clearly just finished the same calculation.

She doesn't tell him it's okay.

He jackknifes at the waist, both hands in his hair, breathing still ragged and getting worse; comes back up dizzyingly fast; turns to pace and runs right the fuck into a table and a chair, the corner of the table sharp into his hip and the chair leg unforgiving against his unprotected toes.

She holds her breath against the oncoming scream-shove-crash of furniture to floor, but there's just a bitten-back moan. He curls in on himself away from the table and sinks to the floor, backlit from the kitchen by the dim emergency lights. He sucks in a breath and drinks in the pain like it's medicine, bitter on his tongue but nonetheless what he needs. What he thinks he deserves.

Same table.

The one from before.

She lays a hand on the wood, stepping carefully through the darkness between it and him. Sinks down beside him as he lays onto his back: knees in the air, hands clasped over his eyes, elbows out. She sits down cross-legged and leans back on one hand, studying him in the little bit of light.

"I fucked up," he says, and she just nods, even though he can't see her through his hands. "I fucked up," he says again, like she's supposed to say something, here, and she just sighs and slips down next to him on the floor, sliding forward toward the kitchen until they're mirrored like puzzle pieces. Rotational symmetry. That's the word.

"I mean, yeah, calling the fridge guy would have been a good idea." There's so much more she could say. She bites her tongue.

"No." He's digging the sides of his clasped hands into his eyes. "Before that. And after that. Just like— everything." He takes a breath, and lifts his hands so he can open his eyes, and rolls his head sideways to look at her. "I wasn't there, and I should have been, and I'm sorry." He looks back up at the ceiling and drops his hands back onto his eyes. "It won't be a problem again."

She wants to give him shit about it but there's something in his voice those last few words. "No?"

"No. Claire and I are done."

"Oh."

"You don't have to pretend you're not happy about that."

"I want you to be happy, Carm." Spoken to the ceiling. Barely audible over the driving rain.

A sound of disgust, but not directed at her. "I don't think happiness is compatible with what we're working toward, here."

"Yeah." She flips her gaze over to him. Still covering his eyes. "Hey." He doesn't look at her, so she taps his elbow. Once he's looking at her: "But what if it was?"

He just shakes his head and puts his hands over his eyes again.

Silence, for a while. The place feels weirdly empty without the background hum of machines. The only sound the cars sluicing by on the street. Honking at each other at the intersections where the traffic lights have gone out.

"I couldn't do it," she says into the darkness. Feels him shift beside her. Moving his hands behind his head. Looking over at her sideways. "Richie had to expo. I just…." She shakes her head. "Froze." Another breath. "Drowned."

"I'm sorry," Carmy whispers. All those promises. I'll be there. You won't be alone. I won't let you fail.

"He was fucking good at it, too. Which should make me feel better, but…"

But somehow it's just salt in the wound.

"Not sure if Richie's gonna be talking to me anytime soon." He picks his head up and scrubs his fingers through his hair. Pulls his palms down his face.

She waits. Just more silence. "Say more?"

"We both said some shit through that door that there's no taking back." Tucks his hands into his armpits like he's trying to stay warm.

"You're family. He'll come around."

"You say family like it means something other than pure fucking chaos. Than the people who know exactly where to where to slide the knife to cut you wide fucking open and leave you bleeding out on the floor."

She rolls onto her side, one arm tucked under her head. He's trembling, just a little, in the low, low light. "Nat's not going to cut you open."

"No, but no matter how hard she tries, she can't sew me back up."

She puts her free hand on his shoulder, tentatively at first and then with some weight when he reaches up across his body, other hand still tucked in against himself, and catches her fingers with his own. Still far too cold.

She wills warmth through the touch, and takes a breath. Lets it out. "I think maybe this is something we either do broken or we don't do at all."

He blinks fast through threatening tears. Bites his lip. Another car swishes by through the rain.

He squeezes her hand. Sirens in the distance. Out on the bridge.

She squeezes back. The tracks are flooding, all the trains called off. Who knows what the city will look like at morning light. Maybe better, maybe worse.

She watches shadows on the ceiling of this place, this island in the storm, and breathes, and listens to him breathe beside her.

They don't let go.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear fx fanfiction #carmy x sydney #sydcarmy #you can read it as platonic or romantic your choice #by:hopeintheashes #my bthb fics #badthingshappenbingo #fandom: the bear #trope: caught in a storm

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selfshippingquotes · 2 years

Text

S/I: What are we having for dinner tonight?

Parent F/O: I can't tell you. It's a souprise.

S/I: Is it soup?

Parent F/O: I souppose it could be...

S/I: Stop that.

Parent F/O: Stoup what?

S/I: The soup puns!

Parent F/O: No.

Parent F/O: Soup.

S/I, ranting to F/O the next day: IT WAS FUCKING TACOS.

#f/o #self ship #selfship #selfshipping #f/o x s/i #selfship quotes #fictional other #familial f/o #romantic f/o #platonic f/o #the f/o that s/i is ranting to can be either platonic or romantic...it's your choice #parent f/o #parental f/o

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thelunarsystemwrites · 3 months

Text

He was hungry—

Believe it or not, this took me two hours to make! Uhh hopefully the (fully) coloured version can come out tomorrow! (This is Canon, but mostly just felt like making a comic-and yes, Lust is still infected. No he's not wearing his 'gear' on the counter of, I forgot...)

Text:

*Blue peacefully sleeping.* "Z z z"

*Lust sneaks into his room, staring athim hungrily.*

*Lust flops down, face first on his bed, startling Blue awake awake*

Blue, looking surprised: !

Blue, looking worried: ?

Lust face down, (Is moody): "Will you make me some waffles?"

Blue, confused: Sure? (Thinking "Why at 3 a.m?...")

Lust: "Thank you... 💜"

*Cuts to Lust sitting at a table with a plate of waffles in front of him.*

*Blue is very tired.*

*Lust is wide awake.* Lust: ♡

The end. :3

#undertale au #infectious love tale #Lustberry #underswap sans #underlust sans #tw infection #infected au #Lust is a zombie that wants waffles okay!?#Blue being the best boyfriend material #He wakes up at 3 am to make waffles-#Wonderful #Comic #undertale au comic #drawing #my art #my artwork #queer platonic #or romantic #Your choice

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meowydoe · 11 months

Text

‘Sooner or later you’ll realize - it’s not fair, not fair’

First time posting a fic that’s not for an event kinda nervous - just wrote this one (like just now) so hopefully it’s good lolsies. If not I do not need to know. I think that’s all the yip-yapping I need b4 I add it. Enjoy?

The choir is gone and there’s nothing Penny can do about it

Penny Lamb attends Constance Blackwood’s funeral (yet still can’t process her death)

Penny Lamb had only been out of the hospital for three weeks.

She was still bandaged and bruised - unfortunately coming back to life doesn’t erase what caused you to die, but I guess a missing leg is better than a missing head.

Penny could remember the warehouse, how cold and clammy it was. The odd ringing in her ears whenever she stepped towards the machine. The panic and twisting of her stomach when she saw herself in that funhouse mirror.

Seeing someone who isn’t yourself in the mirror is an uneasy feeling. She would need to get used to that. The Penny Lamb she is now is not the same as she was before. That Penny Lamb is dead.

Yes, while she’s back in her old body with her own head, the Penny that’s operating this body is different. She’s changed. She acted like a new person now.

She stopped staring blankly into the mirror and spat out her toothpaste. Rinsing and putting away the toothbrush, she adjusted herself on her crutches and headed to her closet.

She was getting ready for Constance Blackwood’s funeral.

Her hair stayed in her twin braids and she has thrown on a long, black cloak-like gown just above her ankles.

As she walked down the street with her umbrella, she stared at the ground, the reflections of her on the wet sidewalk staring back.

Penny thought she could handle death. She experienced it. But oh, was she wrong.

Throughout the funeral she stayed in the same place, in the same pose, staring at the same thing. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Everything, from the moment she heard that roller coaster break, still hadn’t clicked. It was too much to process.

She couldn’t even bring herself to eat the pastries Mrs. Blackwood had brought.

Strawberry shortcake, Constance’s favorite.

Choking back any tears, Penny lifted herself up from the bench and directed herself over to Constance.

The terribly inhuman look of a dead body did not make Penny feel any better peering into the open casket.

If there was one thing she could process the least since the incident, it was everyone’s deaths.

The once full-of-love girl was now cold and lifeless in front of her.

The girl who deserved so much more than ‘nicest girl in home room’, the girl who had so many younger siblings looking up to her, the girl who deserved love more than anyone else, the girl who only loved life when she didn’t have one anymore, was right in front of her, dead.

…no, that isn’t Constance.

Constance was warmth and love. Constance was the smell of vanilla and strawberries. Constance was a big sister who was looked up to.

The girl in front of her was just a body.

She could never get Constance back. No matter how hard she tried. She could never get the choir back.

She would have to walk into all her classes and see an empty desk that was once occupied by a friend. She would have to walk past the choir room on her way to leave the school. The now empty choir room. The now empty choir room that only contained sheet music, the smell of people who once stayed in that room, the smell that would soon be wiped away and never able to return, ripped out notebook paper with handwriting on it, handwriting that could never be rewritten, a notebook that could never be claimed.

Penny couldn’t tell if the aching in her bones or her heart felt worse.

The choir was gone.

The choir was gone forever and there was nothing she could do about it.

Poor Penny Lamb.

#ride the cyclone #rtc #ride the cyclone musical #penny lamb #penny lamb rtc #penny lamb ride the cyclone #constance blackwood #constance blackwood rtc #constance blackwood ride the cyclone #angst #i guess?#fanfic #rtc fanfic #sugardolls #sugarsheep #<kinda? it can be platonic or romantic #your choice #daisy writes stuff !!

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