#apocalypticgenocide

We’re married.

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We’re Married.

Slowly, Nagito stirs. Raising an arm to shield his bleary eyes from the morning light, it takes longer than it ought to realise the other is immoveable. Trapped beneath something too heavy to merely shift in his tired state, he can only stare dumbly. 

 It takes a moment to sink in. The mess of long hair, the steady breathing of a still-sleeping someone, and the way his arm is wrapped around her like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Nagito is careful in freeing himself, holding his breath for fear of waking her. 

 It’s bad enough that he can’t recall how he got here, nestled comfortably between the sheets with someone in his arms. Worse, still, that she just happens to be the most skittish girl in school. The first few times they’d spoken - and it was inevitable they would; though they were assigned separate classes, it seemed they shared haven among the shelves of Hope’s Peak’s ample library - Toko had yelled at him and run off. He liked to imagine his efforts to remain calm and kind had eventually soothed her nerves enough that she could hold a conversation without accusing him of something inappropriate, but it seemed more likely she’d come to understand that, in a school of Ultimates, he’s about as unnoteworthy as white paper in snow. A bug like him couldn’t, and wouldn’t, pose any threat to her. 

 It was a relief, to be honest. The truth is, Nagito had been a fan since her very first book. As someone who often sought refuge in the depths of a novel, hers especially managed to enchant his weary mind so thoroughly, he found he could easily forget his own troubles and instead lose himself in all the wonders of a love well beyond someone like him. And he’d told her so, first chance she gave him - and from then on, while Nagito would never be so presumptuous to call them friends, she was kind enough to allow him, on occasion, to gush unapologetically about her talent. They’d meet up somewhere in the library, and talk for so long that, if there was someone to miss him, they surely would. 

 But that doesn’t explain how they got like this, why she’s in his bed. No...not his bed. It isn’t familiar at all, and nor is the room he finds himself in, or the ring on his left hand. He fiddles absently, nervously, with the plain band, clawing in his mind for an explanation that makes sense. His luck has always brought about strangeness, but this...

This wasn’t exactly the kind of place you’d normally find Nagito either. He’d always disliked noisy places and this club was so loud he could barely hear himself think. Not to mention there were just so many people. He was dressed up and everything but he still felt completely out of place. That’s why spotting a familiar face over towards the back had been a welcome relief—a lifeline, really. Maybe this evening would be salvageable after all.

Toko certainly didn’t look like she was having a very good time herself, not that that was much of a surprise. This wasn’t exactly the kind of place you’d expect to see the rather antisocial author. And although the two of them may have had a bit of a rocky history, Nagito still decided to take the chance and see if he could cheer her up and improve both of their nights in the process.

Garnet One Liner Sentence Starters

While it was important to ensure that the trespasser left he was quick to wave his hands and assure the other that throwing someone over the fence wasn’t a terribly good idea. Even if said person had been harassing not only him but his classmate as well. There were a number of issues that would cause and merely letting security take of them was of far more importance.

   His gaze slides over to the girl. He has seen her before but he just can’t figure out where. Is she in the class beneath him? The 78th? Maybe, but that isn’t what has caught his attention. She appears to be looking at him funny. As if she is taking quick glances, for what purpose he has no idea, but Gundham is finding it disconcerting. A strange thing, considering he is used to people staring at him.

   Eyes drop away, a deep sigh leaving his lips. He might as well discover what her intent is. It might clear whatever misconception she has created of him. Or it may serve a chance for him to create an image for her he’d much rather prefer. And so he turns, giving her his full attention.

Servant had been just staring up at the rather unusual sight before him when he suddenly found himself being whisked up into the air. He couldn’t help the noise of surprise that escaped him, but he didn’t struggle against the hold, going limp not unlike when a cat was picked up in that manner. He took a second to recover from the vertigo but then smiled sheepishly at the angry looking grey eyes he was now face-to-face with.

"Ah, hello, Fukawa-san,” he greeted, as if there were anything remotely normal about this situation, “I’m afraid I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you really think someone like me could do this?”

Your muse finds mine, staggering down a road at night, with torn, dirty clothes and nothing else. Send “How did you get here?” to pick them up.

Everything was still a blur. He’d been making his way back towards his home after picking up a few groceries when something... He... He wasn’t sure but he vaguely remembered something coming and attacking him. It had happened so fast that he hadn’t gotten a good look at it before it was on top of him. Though from the way he was clawed up it was clear that it was an animal of some sort. Which is why when he saw someone up ahead he dashed over to them as best as he could, pleading for assistance as he breathed shakily.

Touch my muse! Touching is a quiet way of conveying your feelings, so tell me how you feel with your touch! 

Fingers: Friendship/amicable 

Stomach: Fun!/Silliness/"Wanna go cause some trouble?"