#1 day blinding stew

[wiresforbreakfast]

[victusinveritas]

[unitydruid]

i was part of a lesser known MKULTRA program where they fed me 1 day blinding stew and bone hurting juice at the same time just to see what would happen. that's how i got like this.

[starwrighter]

Dude, get a restraining order

(Masterpost) (Ao3 link) (previous)

(Chapter #5 Ya'll)

Just like he said he would, Damian walked Danny to his earth science classroom. Guiding him through labyrinth-like hallways with a firm grip on his sleeve. It’s as if he thought Danny would slip through his fingers and be swept away by the crowd of students. Embarrassingly enough, that’s an accurate assumption of both his luck and his situational awareness. If he dared to imagine the future, prison bars, sigils, and the outline of a body immediately came to mind.

Forever he’d be thanking the ancients for Damian expert skills in navigating. Without him, he’d probably be curled up at the bottom of a staircase by now. Or in a death cult keen on taking over the world. It might seem ridiculously pessimistic, but freaky escalations like that happened to him all the time! He’d gone from searching for a gift he’d accidentally knocked into the zone to staging a massive prison break! Needless to say, he appreciated the company.

“Since your map is half a century out-of-date; I’ll pick you up around lunchtime,” Damian declared, curtly waiting for his response.

”Sounds good,” Giving the other boy a small wave and a thankful smile Danny headed into the classroom.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he read the cheesy geology jokes scrawled onto the board. The jokes were stupid in a way only teachers or dads could make them. Puns that could do psychic damage if you dare read them aloud. It’s beautiful. Leagues above a certain English teacher who butchered slang so brutally the lingo died on the spot.

The typical classroom posters lined the walls. A clear bucket full of rocks just sitting on the teacher’s desk as she started taking attendance. He sat close to the front furthest from the door. His blindside faced the wall, nobody could sneak up on him and he wouldn’t be trampled when the bell rang. Nobody could gawk pityingly at his face this way. Yeah, you could pry this spot from his cold dead hands.

It might seem extreme but people were…Weird when it came down to his disability. Some people treated him like he was utterly useless, incapable of doing anything on his own. They tried to “help” without bothering to ask about his condition or if he even needed help. It was so much worse the first few months after the accident. He was wheelchair-bound for that. -1/10 wouldn’t recommend.

He could say with certainty nobody wanted to be paralyzed. It’s jarring how differently treated him back then. They’d point out the obvious like he’s completely blind. Annoying, but understandable considering how gnarled his facial injuries were before they healed. It looked like somebody shot him in the face with a firework. The fact that he didn’t lose an eye was a medical miracle backed by new ghostly powers.

What wasn’t understandable was the complete lack of boundaries strangers had with him and his wheelchair. No amount of warning could’ve prepared him for the first time someone grabbed his wheelchair and moved him. He thought it’d been a one-time thing but it happened again and again without fail. Somebody would move him out of the way or try to “Help” him get to where he’s going. Several times without so much of a “Hello! Do you need some help,” people he’d never spoken to would grab the handles of his chair and start pushing him.

It’s infuriatingly dehumanizing and their heartbroken faces when he called them out tugged at his heartstrings. So many times he’d guiltily stewed over his responses. Jazz killed that guilt without so much as a thought when she put things into perspective. Even though Jazz had a habit of psychoanalyzing him it felt good when she said his anger warranted.

Nothing would ever feel as good as taking those first shaky steps outside his wheelchair though. The wave of overwhelming emotion when a group of baffled doctors told him his paralysis wasn’t as permanent as they previously thought was unparalleled. He cried a lot that day. Tears of joy, he’s not ashamed to admit that.

Never in his life would he have thought he’d be grateful for Dash’s bullying. But after a full two months of extensive physical therapy and multiple surgeries, he now knew were unnecessary anyone treating him like they did before was a godsend. Dash believed in a twisted kind of equality when it came to bullying, he’d pick on anyone he deemed a loser. For him, it’d been verbal harassment, but regaining the ability to walk gave him confidence. He was extremely cocky, snapping back with sarcastic venom at every dig made at him.

Slowly but surely, people stopped babying him. It was harder to argue that someone was helpless when they were actively picking fights with the star football player. After all the shit he’d involved himself in people treated him like normal. Normal in the sense he was picked on for being a loser with crazy parents.

He’d take that kind of bullying over the underhanded insults drowned in infantilism. As the months passed it felt like everyone forgot about his accident. His classmates would get angry at him when he couldn’t keep up with them and go green with envy when he got extra time for his assignments. People acted like he was getting special treatment just for the sake of it.

Like full body electrocution was something he could just walk off. They didn’t understand how walking and running were easier than standing in place. He was accused of faking it whenever he stood up from his wheelchair. People were offended that he still considered his left side blind when he could still see light in his peripherals.

Everyone he talked to said he was lucky. Lucky to survive, lucky to walk again without aid, lucky to have all the sweet powers, lucky lucky lucky. He didn’t feel all that lucky when his joints locked or when reading gave him migraines so bad he questioned if being alive was worth it.

He knows it could be worse. Dear god does he know it could be so, so, much worse. He could be fully dead. Charred to a crisp without even a blast shadow as evidence of his death. He should’ve been paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life. Braindead, hooked up to a machine as his family mourned their loss. The consequences of walking into that portal chamber were so much lighter than anyone could’ve imagined. So he dealt with it.

Things could be worse. At least he wasn’t in Gotham directly after his accident. Slipping through solid objects around people 100x more fearful of their surroundings was a wonderful way to speedrun getting his spine shattered by a guy in a bat suit. Or trafficked. Danny winces as he scribbles on a sheet of lined paper.

Someone is staring at him. The boy beside him was shooting daggers into his very soul. Hadn’t even bothered to hide the way his face twisted in suspicion when Danny turned to look him in the eyes.

“You need something?” Danny probed, praying this was just him misreading facial expressions.

“What the hell happened to you?” The other boy whispered, his tone harsh and accusatory.

“A shocking experience,” His half-assed response earns him a sharp glare and a sneer.

“No really, what happened?”

“Got zapped,” He shrugs, hoping his classmate would take the hint and drop it.

“That’s not what I meant,” The other seethed. “How did you get electrocuted?”

”Electricity,”

“The fact you’re dodging my question makes you look more suspicious,”

“Not trauma dumping on a stranger makes me suspicious?”

“It’s Gotham! We don’t get transfer students outside major cities and we certainly don’t get ones willing to stay for months! What are you planning?” He hisses, voice cracking as he tried and failed to make it sound lower.

“Trust me, if I had a choice to stay home I would’ve,”

“I don’t think I do trust you,”

“That's not my problem,” Danny shrugged. This guy spoke with the delusional confidence only the stubbornest flat earther could rival. He’s not a gothamite by any means but wasn’t the key unspoken rule of the city “Mind your damn business unless you’re a bat,” It’s on par with Don’t dig straight down but this guy clearly hadn’t learned of the former.

“Why do you have fangs?”

”Genetics,” What kind of question was that? Plenty of people had fangs. It’s a common trait, almost every person in amity has it!

”I don’t believe you,”

Heh? What’s the point in asking if he wasn’t going to believe him when he answered? It reminded him of a certain annoyance back home.

“Why do you-“

”Leave me alone!” He snaps. It’s like his classmates doing his best impression of a toddler! “Why?” “Why?” “Why?” Desperately trying to catch Danny in a lie and refusing to believe any response that wasn’t a confession of guilt. World's greatest detective over here, interrogating him for having the audacity to show up to Gotham with “Gasp!” Scars! Oh, the humanity! What a delinquent!

Ancients’ weren’t these prissy private schools supposed to be better than public schools? He walked to school today expecting to be murdered and or indoctrinated into a weird death cult not interrogated by Walmart Batman over here!

What was this guy expecting to drag out of him anyway? Blueprints for a deathray? A secret plot to break everyone out of Arkham? Secret rogue plans? He just got here today! What could he possibly be planning when his apartment didn’t even have toilet paper yet? They hadn’t even hit the 24-hour mark and he already had a conspiracy theorist pestering him.

“Why are you-“ Copycat Wes starts.

”Leave him alone you fucking moron!” A female voice snaps behind them.

“ You don’t understand! He-,” Sputtering to defend himself the girl glowered at him.

“Has done nothing to warrant your harassment,” She finished the sentence for him.

”No! He’s up to something I swear! Just look at him,”

The girl looked him up and down, her hazel eyes shooting daggers into his soul. “He looks like he’s a strong breeze away from a heart attack,”

Ouch.

"There is something wrong with him, you're just too dim to see it," He spits.

 

“Listen here you toe-eyed spaz, I don’t want to have to deal with Lightning Rod over here frying people to death because you wouldn’t stop tormenting him!” She seethed, jabbing her finger into Offbrand’s chest.

“How do you know he’s not going to do that regardless?”

She turns her attention back to him. “Are you going to start doing rogue shit?” She speaks calmly as if she’s asking about the weather.

He pretends to ponder for a second, checking his phone for dramatic effect. “ Nah, My sister says I’m not allowed to be a criminal outside my hometown. It’ll affect her chances of getting into a good college,” To his surprise, that’s an acceptable response for her.

”See, he’s fine.”

“Did you not hear a word he said?” Copycat sputters. “He just admitted to being a criminal,”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?” The boy is red in the face now.

”That’s not our problem,” She replied bluntly.

“How is it not our problem?”

“It just isn’t,”

“It clearly is “ He emphasizes.

“This is why you keep getting mugged,” She snaps. “You’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, how have not learned how to mind your damn business,”

“I know how to mind my business. This is my business. You’re the one who butted in,”

“I’m a nosy bitch too. But I’m not the one who’s pretending to be Batman.” She’s smirking now, tapping her fingernails on her desk.

“I’m not pretending to be Batman,” He defends, hands clenched into fists. “I’m just doing my civic duty!”

“You’re delusional,”

“Well- at least I’m not a criminal,” Offbrand Wes sneered, whipping around to glare at him.

Oh great, he’s directly involved again.

“What a scathing remark, I’ll be sure to cry about it while I build my deathray,” Maybe he shouldn’t keep antagonizing. Offbrand looked about ready to strangle him.

“Now you’re pissing him off on purpose,” The girl behind them deadpans.

“ I am, thanks for noticing,” He’s giddy, a shit-eating grin on his face that would immediately get him shanked if he were outside right now.

Their conversation continues. The three of them whisper-yelling at each other. Offbrand Wes fumed at every one of Danny’s sarcastic responses, doubling down on his suspicions. With every absurd accusation thrown his way, the girl defended him. But if you listened in for more than a few seconds you could see she didn’t step to his defense for the sake of being nice. She just really hated this kid. Who could blame her?

The argument devolved into the two gothamites insulting each other in a way only rich kids could. Family names Danny barely recognized as important were thrown around like dodgeballs. Maybe if Danny kept up with celebrity drama he’d be able to tell who’s winning?

“Daniel Fenton? ” He almost jumps at the sudden interruption. He’d been so awestruck watching these two go at each other's throats that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching them. The teacher is staring down at him; he smiles politely. Better to garner goodwill now rather than later.

”I’d like to see you after class today,” Oh god, already? What had he done to peeve this teacher? Did she hear them arguing? Offbrand was grinning, vindicated as Danny stumbled over himself.

“Oh- uh, will it take long? A friend said he’d help me find my classes since my map is a little off.” He offered up the map as proof. A sacrifice in hopes of leniency for whatever crimes he’s about to be accused of.

The woman looked over the paper, her relaxed expression dropping with the growing confusion.

“Can I see your schedule?” Danny hands it over without a word. Slowly, she ran her fingers against the brail of his schedule. The slow shift in her stance as her face paled felt like it’d been ripped straight from the trailer of a horror movie. He’s heard a lot of crazy things in his life but nothing would ever shock him more than what his teacher said next.

“We’re going be sued into the fucking ground,” Her words were barely audible, whispered behind a closed fist. Danny’s stunned silence was a thousand times louder. Teachers could swear here?! Isn’t that illegal? He sits speechless for an agonizing minute, unsure if he’s in trouble.

Wordlessly, she drags him to the front of the classroom. It feels like he’s being walked to the gallows.

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

”Yeah? I need to know my schedule,” Was wandering around clueless detention for Gotham schools? He hadn’t even done anything. Sure, he was a tad bit tardy this morning. That’s the plane's fault, not his!

“You don’t have a school iPad?” She sounds utterly exasperated.

“No,” He’s supposed to have a school iPad?

“Did they at least give you a proper school I.D.?”

”I hope so ” He shows her the plastic card he’d been given alongside his schedule. She scrutinized the card, glaring intently at every word. It’d taken hours to get a decent photo for that stupid card.

“There’s something wrong with it isn’t there?” Screwed over straight from the get-go. He’ll be haunting the front desk for the foreseeable future.

“No, no it’s fine,” She waves him off. “Leave the map with me and drop your schedule off at the front desk when you leave for the day okay?” He nods, that’s all he can do at the moment.

When the bell finally rang their teacher practically shooed his classmates out the door. Students clogged the doorway, a glob of tangled backpacks that slowly oozed into halls separating with miffed expressions. The tile floor couldn’t be more appealing as he waited for the bomb to drop. In a fancy school like this, the punishment for tardiness could be public execution. You never know.

The punishment for seeing the school guidance counselor had been public humiliation with a side of attempted murder. So capital punishment being carried out in schools wasn’t something he’d be surprised about. They’d better have a guillotine, he’s gotten pretty sick of the electric chair.

“Is your friend coming to get you?” The woman asks, still studying the map with a furrowed brow. She squinted at the paper holding out in front of her face like the distance would change the image.

“I think so, he dropped me off here,” Danny pauses, fiddling with the buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

She shakes her head much to his relief “Somebody’s going to be in trouble but it certainly isn’t you,”

Patterned knocking at the classroom door draws his attention from the woman. Green eyes met blue as Damian quietly entered the room.

“That’s him!” Beaming, he turns back to the teacher. “Can I go now?” She nods wordlessly. With her approval, Danny doesn't hesitate for a second. He darts over to the other boy with a relieved grin on his face.

“How was class?” He asks as they step out of the classroom.

”Unnoteworthy,” Damian hummed.

”Same,” I mean, technically he did get into a fight. But it wasn’t exactly something to write home about. Blows hadn’t been exchanged and he wasn’t gut-punched with a month's worth of detention. Yet.

The walk to the lunch room is heavily crowded. The cafeteria echoed with the chattering of a sea of teenagers. Their navy blue uniform made clusters of students indistinguishable from one another. Sam would hate it here.

“Hey, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate lunch here?”

“Ten. I bring my food from home,” Damian responds quickly pausing afterward as if he’s contemplating a second answer.

“Fair,” He shrugs “nothing beats some home-cooked edible food,” Memories swirled through his brain like he’s a soldier fresh out of war. Reanimated turkeys, living mashed potatoes, gallons of milk that glowed bright enough to light an entire room.

“I reckon your parents�� aren’t the best chefs?” He can barely hold back a wince at the question.

”They try to be…” He sighs “Dad can make some killer fudge but everything else he cooks looks radioactive,”

“I suppose I can relate to that” Damian drawls, “Most of the family is barred from the kitchen without supervision,”

“That’s probably a good idea, learning to cook can be pretty messy,”

” I take it you’re the cook of your family?” Damian asks, eyebrows raised.

“Eh, kind of? I’m not the best but I can make edible food,”

“The bare minimum you know?” He laughs. “My parents are scientists so there wasn’t exactly time for cooking lessons while they were drilling us on safely handling their machinery,”

Damian looks him up and down, eyes locking on his face. “I don’t think those ‘drills’ did you well,”

“They did. I deliberately ignored what they taught me; fucked around and found out,” He shrugs. The past is the past and he’s learned not to change it for his own sake.

“I see…”

“Soooo…” Danny starts, the silence between the two of them awkward. “How would you rate the school-provided lunch?” He reiterated.

”I’ve only eaten the school-provided lunch once but I’d say it’s a four, maybe four point five if I’m being generous,”

”I’d settle for edible,” It’s a private school. Sure, it being in Gotham threw him off a little but what’s the worst that could happen? He dies? A bit too late for that.

“Your standards concern me,”

“Take that up with my school cafeteria; they gave me those standards,” To be fair, his parents contributed to that too. So had Nasty Burger. He had a love-hate relationship with food especially when it’s from a school cafeteria.

Call him paranoid but Casper High fed people dirt and grass plucked from the football field as a “Vegan option” Don’t even get him started on the rocks. Whole ass stones almost as big as his fist. They’d been expected to eat that?! Anyone who’d gotten nailed with one of those suckers when ‘food’ started flying, forever had his sympathy. Nobody was hospitalized but he’d seen the dents in the wall when they made him clean the cafeteria. Rocks were chucked in that food fight.

He’d gathered his lunch without much of an issue. The salad wasn’t sentient and his sandwich hadn’t screamed at him yet. He’d even managed to remember his lunch number at the end of it! Today’s a good day to be pleasantly surprised by the bare minimum. God knows he's gonna need the extra positivity.

Walking through the cafeteria, he spots Damian pretty quickly. The other somehow found himself one of the only empty tables in the whole cafeteria. When Damian waves him over it takes all his self-control to stifle a grin. For a split second, he’d thought he’d overstepped. Thought he’d missed the signs that Damian wanted him gone like Dad missed the signs that Vlad was a psycho.

“Are you really the chef of your family?” Damian questions.

“I am,” he grins, as Damian eyes him skeptically. “Does this-“ Danny gestures at himself. “Not look like the textbook example of a five-star chef to you?”

“Absolutely not,” Damian replied coldly without skipping a beat. “You look like you could burn a bowl of cereal,”

“I can cook, it just took a while to learn how,” You could only learn so fast when every ingredient is contaminated by a mystery cocktail of chemicals.

Even if he wasn’t a master chef he’s better than he was those first months after the accident. So many dishes shattered against the floor. He’d been scolded for each one. Anything he tried to hold slipped from his grasp before the ten-second mark.

“Could you give me any advice?” Damian asked.

“Try out some pasta recipes,” He comments between bites of his sandwich. “They’re hard to screw up and almost every cookbook has about a dozen you can practice,”

“Don’t go with overly complicated recipes straight off the bat. If you’re trying to make a three-course dinner when you can barely make a peanut butter jelly sandwich you’ll end up with a whole lot of wasted food and some scratched pans,” Danny warns, he’s lost count of the hours he’d spent scrubbing the charred food out of pots and pans.

“Alfred wouldn’t be happy about that,”

“Maybe you should ask ‘Alfred’ to teach you,” Danny comments, he wasn’t a tutor. That’s Jazz’s job. Sure, he’d like to be helpful but his journey in the kitchen involved resurrected coleslaw and radioactive dairy products. An experience few could relate to.

“I taught myself with YouTube tutorials, cookbooks, and spite; I’m sure you’d learn better with someone with someone there to give you feedback on what you’re doing.”

“Tch,” Damian glowered, shooting daggers down at his food.

“I’m serious!” He emphasizes, “Trying to wing it straight off the bat just isn’t a good idea,” He knew from experience. Food poisoning isn’t fun. Neither were the blisters you’d get from boiling oil.

“I’m sure many people ‘wing it’ in the kitchen,” Damian insists. “What if I’m a naturally born chef?”

”Didn’t you say you’re barred from the kitchen?” Damian’s cheeks turn a flustered red.

”I said most of my family is barred from the kitchen!” Damian defends like Danny’s ‘accusation’ is a slight against his character.

”Are you included in that ban?”

”…yes” The other boy whispers begrudgingly. He tries, he really does, but there’s no stopping the quiet giggle that erupts from his chest. Damian glares daggers at him cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

”I swear I’m not laughing at you,” He wheezes. It’s a lie and both of them know it.

”Go ahead and laugh, I’m not the one who fried myself,” Damian huffs.

Danny made jokes about his accident all the time. Much to everyone else's dismay his lab accident was his go-to event to joke about. No matter how many times he got scolded for “Making people uncomfortable” he kept it up. This wasn’t the first time someone had made a comment but there’s something about the way he said it. Something about the way he emphasized his words made Danny lose all composure. Collapsing into his folded arms, shoulder shaking with silent laughter.

”Hey…” The other boy’s voice is weaved with concern a guilty lift to his voice. Gently, he pokes Danny’s arm. Any worry drained from his features when Danny lifted his head to look at him.

”I thought I'd upset you!” Damian half shouts.

”Nah, I’ve got thicker skin than that,” He reassures.

”You're the first, Others tell me I come off rather… cold,”

“Really?” That’s a surprise. Danny couldn’t see it, then again he hasn’t known Damian for very long. After all that’s happened, he’d like to think he’s a better judge of character. The other boy didn’t give off Penelope spectra vibes. Nor did he act like a miniature Vlad. If anything, he reminded him of Sam.

“You’re a liar if you think I’m friendly,” He snaps scowling at Danny as if he’d just spat in his lunch or something.

”I’m not a liar, I just have a different definition of friendly than you do,”

“Does your definition of friendly happen to be rich?”

“Fuck no!” He snaps without thinking. Raising an eyebrow Damian stares at him green eyes scrutinizing his expression like there’s deeper meaning in his words. “Eat the rich,” He clarifies, as if that’s supposed to explain anything.

“Friendliness is compassion, a willingness to help, not sugar-sweet conversations with extroverted compassion,” It’s easy to put on a sweet voice while you screw someone over. Even easier to insult someone with a snidely worded ‘compliment’.

“You helped me without hesitation when you could have left me to fend for myself,”

“The situation was ridiculous, I had to help.” Damian defends

“ You didn’t have to,” he points out.

“Listen, I’m not trying to challenge your view of yourself; I’m just saying you’ve been nice to me so far,”

Damian relaxes, staring down at his lunch. “I pity you,”

“Pity me enough to give me a bite?” Danny asks, batting his eyes obnoxiously.

“Absolutely not,”

“Fuck.”

[calypsolemon]

1 day blinding stew

[faecaribou]

Stardew Valley Tumblr Simulator

📚 solarian_bookworm

Hey guys! Any tips on how to get this little boy I'm tutoring to actually pay attention to my lessons? He's not very good at reading, but I'm even letting him pick out which books and he still can't focus! We don't have good education where I'm from (Pelican Town) so any chance he has at learning is from me. How do I help him?

🎷 zuzu-zoomer Follow

Feed him a stew that makes him go blind

🧭 stardewexplorer Follow

feed him the stew that makes you blind for one day

🎡 fuck-gotoro Follow

stew that blinds him for one day

⚅ desert-clubber Follow

Perhaps feed him a stew that makes him go blind for one day?

🪩 insomniac-boy Follow

1 day blinding stew

✨ sparkle-on Follow

wait guys isnt pelican town the place where once a year when the governor visits everyone puts an ingredient into a big pot and they make a stew and everyone eats from it??? dont give this poor girl this advice 😭😭😭😭😭

🎷 zuzu-zoomer Follow

lmao thats hilarious. do it

📚 solarian_bookworm

...I think I'll just ask his mom for advice. Thanks though...

250 notes

🧵 parrot-enthusiast

halfway through the brand new dress! embroidering it is taking forever ugh

3 notes

🗺️ superhaterlock Follow

Solarian Chronicles sucks

📔 sc-fanatic Follow

if you say one more word on this subject im going to kill you

🗺️ superhaterlock Follow

I just don't get why defending and healing gives you a better score than attacking

📔 sc-fanatic Follow

oh you mean the rpg game based on the books. continue

💿 seb-codes

:( i like the game

30 notes

🎸 pop_punkist

Come see my band perform live tonight at Zuzu City!

🚙 jojacolaaddict Follow

Hi yes I'd like to file a complaint. i went to your concert and I saw that damn eldritch monster that I swear I saw last week. What the fuck is that and what meme did I miss

🎸 pop_punkist

uh. are you talking about the farmer? they're actually the one who helped me start my bad they're sick as fuck. do you mind

🚙 jojacolaaddict Follow

what the fuck is the farmer

15 notes

💣 back-in-town Follow

AITA for yelling at my wife?

I just came home from active deployment against the Gotoro army. i lost a lot of friends in the war. I was having a bad day and my wife tried to make my popcorn to cheer it up because it used to be my favorite but it reminded me of the bombs. I yelled at her that she should know better but the local farmer was at our house and told me not to take out my pain on my wife. Am I the asshole?

🎡 fuck-gotoro Follow

NTA thank you for your service. if she did any kind of research on how to help people with PTSD from the war she would know to not be making loud banging noises like that

🏴‍☠️ piratewreck Follow

What? YTA why would his wife know. she was trying to make his favorite food. she should divorce him

28 notes

I started this tumblr stimulator post and then forgot about it and gave up 😭

[odditycircus-2002]

Mortal Kombat 1 Intros Part III

THE VOTES HAVE SPOKEN! I hope y’all enjoy this, and don’t forget to like, reblog, and or comment! I do love hearing y’all’s thoughts and suggestions! 😁😁😁Featuring Medusa!Reader. If you want to see the others, click one of these

Batch1

Batch2

Quan-Chi

Quan-chi patronizing: It must enrage you that you couldn't have finished me.

Y/N hissing: If it weren't for Li Mei's jussstice, I would've had your ssspine by now!

/

Quan-chi disgusted: Why do you pine for a diseased cretin over Shang Tsung?

Y/N: Because that sssnake is below my standards, now.

/

Quan-Chi: You were Shang Tsung's wife, yet Lui Kang has gifted you a better life than either Shang and I!

Y/N: Everything I have earned in life, I have earned by my handssss and my hands alone.

/

Y/N coyly: I have to thank you for adding some spice to my meal.

Quan-Chi taken aback: That poison I slipped into your stew was enough to kill a full-grown taigore!

/

Y/N: Tch, what's good is relying heavily on your magic if a single gaze is enough to stop you in place?

Quan-chi smirks: It's fortunate then that I know how to avoid your gaze then.

/

Y/N narrows her eyes: It's bad enough that Shang Tsung knows The Island’s secrets!

Quan-Chi: Whether or not you do so willingly, I will learn witch.

/

Quan-chi: I hope your infatuation with Y/N won't put a wench in our partnership

Shang Tsung chuckles: Are we feeling a touch envious, Quan-chi?

Reiko

Y/N: I remember bandaging the bloodied boy Shao took into camp.

Reiko: I am not that boy no longer, Healer! /

Y/N: You're fortunate it was Li Mei who apprehended you, otherwise there'd be nothing to throw in Lei Chin.

Reiko: *Barks out a laugh* HA! I just need to blind you to beat you!

/

Y/N: You are no warrior but a mindlesssss blood-hungry brute, I would know.

Reiko scoffs: As if a Healer would know anything about what a true warrior is.

/

Y/N smirking: It's a shame that I couldn't have kept you in the Hanging Gardens.

Reiko growling: Care to try so again, witch?!

/

Reiko: You have forgotten your oath to Outworld!

Y/N: How is not wanting to see the Empire fall to the disease that is war, breaking my Healer's oath?

/

Reiko: The lieutenants' illness... *growls* Have you no honor?!

Y/N darkly: Not towards traitorsss of the throne.

/

Reiko: It's a shame that we could not have recruited you to the cause.

Y/N with her snakes writhing in anger: *Hisses* As if I would align myself with the brutes that would encourage Sssshang Tsung's depravity!

Tanya

Tanya: You have truly chosen better than that traitorous Sorcerer.

Y/N sighs in exasperation: I'll have to talk with Mileena about spreading rumors about my love life.

/

Tanya: You have a sister among the Umgadi?

Y/N rolls her eyes: I only know this since my mother would never ssshut up about it.

/

Tanya astonished: Shang Tsung did what to you?!

Y/N hisses at the memory: It's because I got too close to learning of hisss real laboratory.

/

Y/N: I hope you aren't the reason why Mileena missed her mandatory meditative practices today.

Tanya: I was told by her that you canceled them for the day!

/

Y/N: It is difficult, to love someone afflicted with Tarkat and watch them suffer.

Tanya: If Mileena and I can overcome these obstacles despite the risks, so can you and Baraka.

/

Y/N: I am happy to report that most of your Umgadi sisters will make a full recovery.

Tanya: It's still regrettable to lose any of my sisters, but I am happy to hear that.

/

Y/N: Did you really think I would betray the Throne?

Tanya: Honestly, there was so much deceit and conspiracies going around, I wasn't sure.

Ermac

Ermac: Neither Jerrod nor Sindel hold you at fault for their deaths.

Y/N in surprise: I- Uh um... Thank you, Ermac.

/

Ermac: Can you aid us?

Y/N: I haven't learned the same magic as Quan-chi, but I has picked up a spell or two on Shang Tsung's island.

/

Ermac: We apologize, but the answer is still no.

Y/N angrily: You're the one who freed Quan-chi in the firssst place! The least you can do is return to the palace!

/

Y/N: Why not inform Mileena instead of freeing Quan-chi?!

Ermac: We were not sure she could have ensured our continued existence

/

Y/N: If you wish to reside in the Colony, then I'll need some assurance that you won't kill my patients.

Ermac: We understand, but you just have to trust our word.

/

Y/N narrowed her eyes in suspicion: I was told by Ashrah, you nearly killed Baraka and Syzoth.

Ermac: That is not Us anymore, Y/N.

/

Y/N: How is the Collection today, Ermac?

Ermac: Thanks to your remedies, We feel more... stable.

Nitara

Nitara mockingly: Having seen your Titan self, I wonder what it says about you?

Y/N hisses: I am nothing like her!

/

Nitara: Your blood tastes like a Vaeterunian's!

Y/N angrily: Of course, Shang Tsung would think to make me monstrousss just to ssspite me!

/

Nitara: My blood magic is superior to your water magic.

Y/N: It'll do you no good once I have you choking on your own blood.

/

Y/N: Care for another demonstration on whose bite is deadlier?

Nitara: You have to actually catch me to bite me.

/

Y/N: Not till death will I ever stop fighting for my home!

Nitara: Why do you think I fight for Vaeterunus?!

/

Y/N: Even just hearing your voice sends disgussst down my spine

Nitara: The disgust is mutual even with your mask on.

/

Y/N snakes out and ready to bite: The fact that you aided that sssnake!

Nitara: A mistake and waste of time, I'll admit.

Peacemaker

Peacemaker: So how do you and that Baraka guy bump uglies? Considering how you're both-

Y/N vexated and flustered: That is NONE of your concern!

/

Peacemaker: The bleeding is mostly internal which is where most of the blood is supposed to be anyway, right?

Y/N internally screaming: That is NOT at all how it worksss!!!

/

Peacemaker: What the FUCK happened to your face?!

Y/N: A sssnake named, Shang Tsung. That's what.

/

Y/N: While I might not always agree with her, I trust Li Mei's judgment.

Peacemaker: Yet, it would've been easier if she just killed those wizard fucks!

/

Y/N: Those herbs you gave me are pretty weak.

Peacemaker: How? I gave ya the best kush I got!

/

Y/N: I can heal much of the body, but an addled mind isn't one of them

Peacemaker: If you think I'M insane, you should see the crazies in Arkham!

/

Y/N: How in the 10 hells are you still breathing?!?

Peacemaker: I honestly have no fucking clue.

[just-a-creep-babe]

A Demon’s Ache — Part 4

Eyeless Jack x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Commissioned by @cookiereblogss — thank you so so very much luv, your support has been absolutely incredible ❤️❤️

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Check out my patreon if you’d like to support me!

Masterlist: x

Jack avoids you for the next week or so

Hell, he avoids basically everyone

He stays locked up in his room, going back and forth between wishing you hadn’t slept with Jeff and trying to convince himself that you’re your own person, and you can do whatever you want

Or whoever you want, for that matter

Still, he can’t help the burning pit of rage in his stomach every time his thoughts wander to the scarred-faced killer

Of all the fucking people

Unfortunately, staying in his room gets old fast

But he still refuses to step out

Because the last few times he’s left his room, something bad has happened

And logically, he knows he can’t stay inside forever

And he knows that running into you is inevitable

But knowing it isn’t enough to stop him from stalling—he’ll delay having to see you for as long as possible

Part of him is also worried about running into Jeff

He doesn’t know what he’ll do to him the next time he sees that asshole

Killing another resident is strictly prohibited, but he doesn’t know if he’ll have the willpower to stop himself from caving his head in when he sees his dumb fucking face

The mental image brings a smile to the demon’s lips

It would be so easy

It would be so satisfying

With a sigh, Jack makes his way to the window and pulls the curtains open

It looks like a nice day out

The sun is still rising in the blue sky, the green leaves are swaying in the breeze, the birds are chirping

…

He shuts the blinds close, plunging himself back into the darkness once more

It’s better this way, he thinks

He’s about to crack open one of his dusty medical books to bury himself in some studies when he gets a text

Hoodie: Hey, you busy? What’re you up to?

Nm, he types back, and though he’s grateful for the unexpected distraction, he almost wishes he could just be left alone for a few more days

He needs more time to stew in his misery

A reply comes a few minutes later

Hoodie: Ight, you down to train? Masky’s out of commission, I need a partner

The demon sighs

He looks around his room

He’s not necessarily messy per se, but he’s also most certainly not the tidiest

Books, clothes, and a few medical supplies are strewn across the room

He could spend the day cleaning

Or he could spend it reading, or learning a new skill, or picking up some kind of hobby or something

He runs his fingers through his hair

Even though he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows what he should do

I’ll be there in 10, he finally answers

Jack purposefully takes the longer route through the mansion—just so that he can be sure he won’t encounter you

It’s petty, he knows it is, but at this point, he almost doesn’t care

He’s too frustrated and miserable to bother acting civilized

Hoodie’s already waiting for him when he reaches the training field

Located a short trek into the forest, the proxies have their own private cabin next to a broad open clearing

And said clearing, of which, is often used as an outdoor sparring ground

It’s almost always more fun training out here rather than inside

Something about a cramped, sweaty basement just isn’t Jack’s favorite

The proxy’s leaning against the short rotting wooden fence lining one side of the clearing, his arms folded over his chest, when Jack approaches

He gives a nod to the demon as he notices him

“Hey,” Jack says, and when he remembers what Hoodie said about his partner, he asks, “is Masky alright?”

Hoodie shrugs nonchalantly

“Yeah, it’s just a minor injury—no big deal”

He pushes off the fence, adding, “he’ll be fine, it’s just not the best to train with”

Jack nods

He follows the human into the clearing, and the two ready themselves on opposite sides

“You didn’t need me to take a look at it?”

He gets into his fighting stance as he speaks, and Hoodie does the same

“Nah, that newbie checked it out,” the proxy rolls his neck out, and it makes a satisfying crack, before then stretching his shoulder as well, “Besides, you were MIA”

The two face one another 

A gust of wind rustles through the trees around them 

They share a mutual nod to indicate they’re both set, and then the tension grows palpable as the combat session begins

Jack’s one of the strongest and fastest residents at the mansion

If not the strongest and fastest

He usually gives his sparring partner a chance by letting them make the first move

But it’s like all of the jealousy, anger and frustration that’s been building up until this point suddenly snaps inside of him

And in a flash, he charges at the human in front of him

Hoodie tries to dodge, but Jack’s inhumanly fast, and he easily lands his blow to the proxy’s stomach

The human grunts, doubling over, but he’s fast and smart enough to know that he should move before Jack strikes again

He sidesteps him, but he’s slower and clumsier after that first hit, and Jack almost feels bad for him

Maybe he should pull his punches a little more

He can’t let his anger overtake him; he’s the one who has to patch him up afterward if he hits too hard

“The newbie—you mean that guy with the gas mask? What does he call himself again? Y’s Virus or something?”

He tries to distract himself, tries to make some kind of small talk to give the proxy a chance

Hoodie huffs out a laugh

“X-Virus,” he corrects, and seeing that Jack’s giving him a moment to recover, he tries to shake the pain off before resuming his stance

The two circle one another, staying parallel with a fair amount of distance between them

“The kid knows medicine?” Jack asks, matching Hoodie’s movements

“Seems like it. He’s gotta have some kind of use for the boss to keep him. Being a cocky brat with a baseball bat isn’t enough to cut it”

He sidesteps Jack, tries to fake him out, then aims for a kick at his legs

The demon easily jumps back, then uses his momentum to mimic Hoodie’s maneuver

It gets the proxy down, giving Jack the perfect opportunity to get him in a headlock

Hoodie grunts, hands flying up to try to pry Jack off of him

“And what about you?” he asks, his voice audibly strained as he struggles in his hold, “where’ve you been this past week?”

“Busy,” he answers, and then to avoid getting pressed for an answer, he tightens his hold around his throat

Hoodie struggles for longer than Jack expects

But eventually, left with no other choice, he gives in, tapping out, and Jack finally releases him

The proxy gasps, coughing, trying to get a rush of air into his lungs, as Jack stands and offers him a hand

“I hit a nerve?” Hoodie asks, rubbing his throat before taking the help getting up

Jack eyes him for a moment

“What’re you playing at?” he finally asks

Though he wouldn’t consider himself on bad terms with the proxy, he knows fully well that the proxy often has ulterior motives

He can’t—or at least, he shouldn’t—always trust him so easily

Sensing this, Hoodie puts his hands up defensively

“Hey man, I’m not playing at anything,” he claims, “you haven’t been around, and (y/n)’s coincidentally gotten all gloomy recently”

Jack’s ears perk up at the mention of your name

“What do you mean?”

It seems it’s Hoodie’s turn to eye him suspiciously now

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean?’ Did something happen between the two of you?”

When Jack hesitates to answer, Hoodie continues

“Look man, it’s no secret that you’ve got a thing for her. But if you somehow hurt her—”

“I didn’t”

When Jack quickly interrupts him, Hoodie raises a brow at him

Jack sighs

“Listen, there’s nothing going on between us. She’s...” he swallows down the memory of what you said to him in the garden, then forces himself to finish his sentence, “she’s not interested in me”

Hoodie seems to study him for a moment, almost as if trying to judge whether or not he’s lying

“...And what makes you say that?”

“Because she...” Jack stops himself in his tracks, shaking his head, “I-I just know, alright? She’s not into me”

Jack watches as Hoodie pauses to think for a moment

“Well, I clearly don’t know what happened between the two of you,” and before Jack can intercept again, Hoodie adds, “and clearly, something did happen”

“But, whatever,” he continues, “it’s none of my business. All I can say is that, if I were you, I’d try to talk to her. Something’s been bothering her, and something’s obviously bothering you too, and the best you can do is just try to sort things out with her”

It’s now Jack’s turn to get quiet

Had he been too harsh with you the last time he saw you?

Were you worried about him because you hadn’t seen him since?

Seeing him hesitate so much, Hoodie asks if he’ll try talking to you

"...Yeah, alright, I will. I’ll try talking to her,” Jack finally agrees

Hoodie grins

“Finally. Well, with that out of the way, can we finally spar?”

The rest of the training session goes relatively well, all things considered

Jack’s distracted thinking about you, so Hoodie manages to land a fair amount of blows, but he’s still ultimately no match for the demon

Even on the whole trek back through the forest to get to the mansion, Jack’s thoughts are racing a mile a minute

If he was the slightest bit more aware of his surroundings, maybe he would’ve remembered to take the longer route to avoid seeing Jeff on the way in

Maybe he could’ve prevented the killer from noticing him, from locking eyes with him

Maybe he could’ve changed paths when he realized he was headed straight toward him

But that latter one is doubtful, considering the rage tightening in his sternum at the mere sight of him

Jack wouldn’t have backed down at that point—no matter how alert he was

“Out of my way,” Jeff grumbles

He nearly shoulder-checks him, but Jack moves out of the way before it connects

“Watch where you’re fucking going”

The venomous animosity dripping from Jack’s tone is enough to make the raven-haired killer pause in his tracks

“Fuck you just say to me?”

There’s no mistaking the pecking order in the mansion

Jack’s on top

But he’s usually easy-going enough to ignore Jeff’s constant attempts at proving himself

Not today

“I said—“ Jack straightens himself up, all but hissing the words out, “watch where you’re fucking going”

A look of visible confusion flashes over Jeff’s features

Until it clicks

“Ohh, I get it,” he snickers, and the sound makes Jack want to rip him to shreds right then and there

“You’re just upset because I fucked your little girlfriend before you ever even got the chance”

The way he admits to it—so crudely, so shamelessly—it actually takes Jack by surprise 

And Jeff, being the constant prick he is, doesn’t stop there

“God, y’know, she’s actually way less innocent than she lets on. She likes it dirty—filthy. Like a desperate little slut. Wanna know her favorite position? She just loves getting—“

Jack punches him

He hits him directly in the temple, and it knocks Jeff out in one shot

It’s ridiculously satisfying

He only wishes he hadn’t gone down so easily—he would’ve loved to beat him down over and over again

With a snort, he walks away, leaving Jeff passed out on the ground behind him

He had planned to talk to you immediately after training with Hoodie, but he’s way too infuriated to do so right now

Instead, he makes a beeline back to his room

And he promises himself he’ll confront you the very next chance he gets

[felixisfruity]

do you guys know the 1 day blinding stew

[puhpandas]

@ggyweek2024 Day 1: Scars

(2,434 words)

After developing a new normal, Tony finally asks Gregory about how he got the scar on his face.

One of the first blaring changes that Tony noticed about Gregory when seeing him again after so long was his scar.

Tony couldnt help but stare when he first saw it. It was thick and jagged, and discolored a darker shade than his skin. It was large, jarring on his face, and travelled from his jaw across his cheek to his nose.

And even after they had the big long talk about everything and discussed and debunked and explained, Gregory never told him how he got the scar.

It took Tony a while to feel normal enough around Greg to go to his house a lot. It's more common than not, now, for Tony to go to Greg's after school and get to know him. The real him.

But through it all, Tony's never gathered the courage to ask Greg about the long jagged line taking up a quarter of his face.

Its been weeks, now, since they reunited. Possibly months, and Tony hasnt asked Greg about it in that long.

Its never felt right to. Even when things were still centered around what happened enough to reveal that much, it had been too soon, and any time afterwards, Tony was just happy to be friends with Greg again. He never wanted to mess up any normalcy and his relationship for Greg to satisfy his own curiosity.

He already learned his lesson about that.

Today's one of the days he goes over to Greg's to hang out. The standard routine continues as normal; Tony bikes to Gregory's house, parks, goes inside and greets Vanessa and Freddy on his way to Greg's room, who both greet him back enthusiastically, and then he goes in.

When Tony enters Gregory's room, he immediately finds him hunched over at his desk. His back is facing Tony, and even from his point of view he can see Gregory's arm moving back and forth in a scribbling motion. He doesnt seem to hear him come in. He's so engrossed in whatever he's drawing he's almost nose to nose with the surface of the desk.

Instinctively, a smile quirks on Tony's face. He shuts the door quietly behind him, and goes over to Greg's chair.

Gregory only seems to notice him when he's in his peripherals. He jolts slightly, eyes widening in suprise, but then hes smiling and setting down his pencil.

"Jeez," Greg chuckles. "You scared me."

"Sorry." Tony replies. The window is open and the blinds are open by Gregory's desk, and it casts a few lines against Greg's face and his paper. Tony switches his gaze to Gregorys latest drawing, and smiles again.

It's some comic centered around Gregory and Freddy taking down a bad guy. The panels are dramatic and scary looking, and Tony notices that near the end of the page, in the right bottom corner, theres a panel where Gregory is completely alone.

He's interrupted by Gregory calling his name.

Tony looks back over, and the sunlight peeking through the blinds somehow manages to cast a perfect halo around the scar on Greg's face. It's like the world somehow knows that Tony's been stewing in curiosity about it lately.

Tony must have been looking at it, because when he tears his gaze away to look at Gregory himself, he shuts his mouth from where he was about to say something and darts his eyes to the side. His hand comes up to his cheek.

"Sorry." Tony says again. He looks at the floor.

One moment, then, "Its okay." Gregory drops his hand after a few seconds of silence. "Did you come over to finish our book? We only have a couple chapters left, I think. I saw that the second series is way longer."

Tony smiles again. "Yeah." He confirms. "Are you reading or am I?"

"You read last time." Gregory gets up from his chair, leaving his comic and colored pencils behind. "I'll do it this time."

Tony still feels bad about making Greg uncomfortable, but Gregory seems to have moved past it. He sighs. "Okay, sure. This is the last book, isnt it?"

"The last in series one." Gregory replies, moving to his bookshelf. Tony watches him go. "Funny how we only started reading because you wanted a reference to start writing first person, and now we're going to start series two."

Tony smiles, knowing why exactly he kept reading for so long. Of course he's inspired by the first person point of view, but theres another reason he likes reading the books so much. "Its a good series."

Gregory plucks the book off of his shelf and makes his way over to his bed. Tony follows him, and they sit side by side, leaning against Greg's pillow as he opens to the bookmarked page.

Tony's on Gregory's right side, meaning that Tony has perfect view of his face scar when he leans down to see the pages clearly. He sighs out his nose, trying his best to ignore it. Greg's obviously uncomfortable with it. He thinks. He doesnt need to tell me. I dont need to know.

While Gregory is finding their last page, Tony thinks about how hes never told Gregory how he got his own face scar. The thin pale line on his right cheek.

But then he remembers that he doesnt need to tell him, because Gregory already knows how Tony got the scar.

"Here." Gregory rips him out of his thoughts, pointing at the page. He clears his throat, and Tony tries to ignore the proximity, and how Gregory's face scar is in his peripherals.

"I looked around to make sure we were alone." Gregory starts reading. "Then I leaned in close and whispered: "My Achilles spot. If you hadn't taken that knife, I would have died.

She got a faraway look in her eyes. Her breath smelled of grapes, probably from the nectar. "I dont know, Percy. I just had this feeling you were in danger. Where...where is the spot?""

The word knife makes Tony think again, even when he tries to pay attention to the story. Tony's own face scar was made by a knife. His eyes dart back to Greg's cheek.

"I wasn't supposed to tell anyone." Greg's voice echoes in his room. "But this was Annabeth. If I couldnt trust her, I couldn't trust anyone.

"The small of my back.""

"Greg." Tony interrupts impulsively, not tearing his eyes away from the discolored line on Gregory's face. Gregory stops reading, twisting his neck to look at him. When Greg looks him in his eyes, Tony switches his gaze to look back. "Uh... can I ask you something?"

Gregory seems to deflate a slight bit, but Tony only notices because he's watching closely.

Greg sighs almost soundlessly, then: "My scar."

Tony jolts, his eyes wide. He glances to the side. "Oh, um--"

"I know that's what you're going to ask about." Gregory interrupts. Tony risks a glance back, the inklings of guilt in his stomach, but Gregory doesn't look angry, upset, or uncomfortable. Just kind of resigned, but in the least worst way. "Its okay."

Gregory shuts the book, only pausing to place the bookmark back in. "Is it okay?" Tony asks. He wouldn't want anyone prying for answers about his face scar. He hopes that Greg wont mind as much because its Tony.

"I see you looking at it all the time." Gregory tells him, shifting in his seat to angle his body so he's fully facing Tony. Tony forces himself to look him in the eye. "I know how you are. It's probably killing you, isnt it?"

Tony tries not to let his jolt show at those choice of words from Gregs mouth, and he nods. "Sorry." He apologizes. "I just--"

"You cant stand not solving a mystery." Gregory interrupts again. He fidgets in his seat. "I get it."

Tony doesnt respond again. He just stares, and watches how Gregory is looking away from him when it falls silent. He looks at how Gregory's face is tilted so the scar is in perfect view for Tony, and how his fingers fidget with the strap of his watch and how his knees seem to tremor ever so slightly.

He waits. In the silence, he can hear the TV in the living room droning on through the walls. He can hear the barely audible exhaust from cars from outside. He can hear his own heartbeat in his chest, and he can feel his own guilt for being excited to be told.

"Its..." Gregory's voice is jarring in the silence. He looks back at Tony, and there are lines under his amber eyes. "Its not a fun story. Might... might remind you of some things."

Gregs eyes had darted to the right side of Tony's face when he said that, and Tony's brows raise. He's suddenly hyper aware of his own face scar.

He looks at Greg's, sharp and large and jagged. It dips in his skin around his jaw, and it makes the skin around his left eye stretch differently. Its darker against his tanned skin, and Tony sighs out. "That's okay."

Tony doesn't notice how Gregory never worried about trusting Tony.

"Vanessa was like me." Gregory jumps right in. "She had a knife, and I just woke up with no memory, and she just..."

He trails off, making a slashing motion with his hand. "I barely got away with my life." He says, his voice slightly wet. "If I was just a little slower..."

His eyes get faraway, and Tony, in between his shock and taking that in, bravely reaches out a hand and sets it on Gregory's fidgeting one.

His hand is warm against Tony's icy fingers, and it's enough to bring him back to reality. He gasps a little, and Tony catches that same expression that he used to think made Gregory look so young a year ago.

Tony doesnt bring up his own scar, because he knows Gregory knows how it came to be. It was from a knife, too, and Tony barely got away with his life.

Greg's other hand has been raised to his face, where he messes with the scar on his cheek. Theres a few fleeting moments where Gregory and Tony look at nothing but eachothers eyes, and it feels like it lasts hours.

Tony sees how Gregory unsubtly looks away from Tony's eyes to his right cheek.

Gregory's fingers twitch under Tony's hand. Tony watches Gregory remove his other hand from his face, reach out, and barely brushing against his skin, poke the spot on Tony's cheek.

"We match." Greg says, soft as silk. He smiles, but it looks pained.

Tony cant find a response in him, he just keeps staring, and realizing for the first time how Gregory's right.

It feels otherworldly, Tony thinks, or fictional, how Tony and Greg somehow have matching scars on their cheeks that are parallel to eachother. It reminds him, boldly, of how Freddy and Bonnie have parallel matching earrings.

But they were designed that way. Tony and Gregory somehow got here by chance. Are they this way because of the worlds design? Is it fate that both their cheeks were marked by that thing?? That the fact that they have scars at all tells that they're still here? That Tony would look in the mirror and stare at the pale line on his face in-between it all to remind himself that it was all real, and his theories weren't far-fetched? That he wasnt going mad?

"I have another," Gregory rips him out of his thoughts, tapping on his hand, and Tony realizes his eyes were unfocusing. "on my stomach."

Tony feels a surge of panic when Greg lifts his shirt, but he looks back from where he averted his eyes to where Gregory is pointing.

Theres a gathering of skin on his stomach. It's long and horizontal, almost diagonal, and discolored like his face scar. It's a line, Tony realizes. A big one. Tony's mouth parts, and he looks at Greg's eyes.

"When I freed her." Gregory looks away. "She got me again."

Tony doesnt respond, he just looks at the bunch of skin on Gregory's stomach. It obviously used to be a stab wound. One of Tony's biggest fears is stab wounds.

He shakes his head, clearing his throat and trying not to stutter. "I have one." Tony says. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing the green corduroy at the end of the bed, and he rolls up the sleeve of his raglan tee.

"Y-- Rab got me." Tony says, pointing at his bicep, where just under his shoulder on the side, theres a thick, long slice. He feels it with his finger, and it dips in the skin, dark like both of Gregory's are. "He tried to stab me in the back, but I dodged."

Greg stares at it for a long time, and his eyes look infinitely more tired.

He eventually shifts, and uses his other hand (the one not beneath Tony's) to move his hair out of the way near his temple. He tucks it behind his ear, pointing at a small scar right at his hairline. Its almost lined up perfectly with the corner of his eye. "One of-- Rabs lenses shattered, once." He explains. "It almost blinded me."

Tony sighs through his nose, feeling his eyebrows furrow.

Theres so many. Gregory has so many scars littered around his body.

Tony squeezes his hand.

He shows Gregory more scars of his, which are few. He eventually gets to the old childhood ones with funny and embarrassing stories attached to them, and he stops giving Greg room to reveal more of his scars. Tony can see little light lines and dots scattered around his arms and hands, and another bigger one peeking from under his shirt sleeve, but Gregory never gets to tell the stories of those. Tony just tells him about how the scar under his chin is from tripping at the pool when he was eight, and that the one on his ankle is from a scooter rearing back at him from a failed trick when he was nine.

Greg doesnt try to unearth all of the scars hes collected again. He just laughs at Tony's stories until tears prick his eyes, and the book sits un-re-opened next to them as the sky darkens outside Gregory's window. The lines under Gregorys eyes recede, and Tony's shirt sleeve starts to fall back down his arm.

Through it all, Tony never moves his hand from on top of Greg's, and Gregory doesnt move his either.

ao3 link

[druidshollow]

1 day blinding stew 👍

lmao????? uhh yeah whimsy. im giving it to whimsy

[homebrewhomestead]

STATS:

STR 16

CON 12

DEX 11

INT 16

CHA 8

WIS 13

Character Synopsis: Gusui Grew up in the slums of the city, and as food was not readily available his mother often fed him softened bones from the soups she made. His love for food stems almost entirely from the lack of it in his youth, culminating in a desire to learn how to cook, this drive led him to master his own culinary arts over the years. In his youth Gusui often found himself in the house of an old blind priest that practiced masonry, while Gusui didn’t understand much of the old man’s ramblings or beliefs he knew he would get free food that he could bring back to his family after listening to him. After years of this as a token of appreciation for the time spent together the Old Man helped Gusui craft his own pot from a rare volcanic material and promised him his home for the future restaurant he’ll open up. Nowadays Gusui strives to serve his cooking to the people in his community, his family, and the old man for so long as he is able.

Gusui’s Pot

Wondrous Item, Uncommon (Attunement, Spellcaster)

This magical pot is capable of keeping anything inside of it heated to perfection, while attuned to this item it functions as Cook’s Utensils and over the course of 1 hour you are able to place any mix of ingredients and water in it to create a satisfying soup or stew, nourishing up to 4 creatures for an entire day.

While attuned to the pot you gain a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls for spells that deal fire damage, you also gain a +1 bonus to your Spell save DC overall.

DISCLAIMER:

Feel free to use the character as a PC or NPC and the Item in your home campaigns.

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[pomplalamoose]

DILF Luke headcanons / story draft pt. 4

🌿modern day AU🌿

A/N: you know, I actually have a collection of ideas and notes I keep wanting to integrate into my Dilf Luke posts and yet I completely ignored it AGAIN in order to go off the rails with something else (this has been going on for several posts) anywaysssss I hope you have fun, mwuah <33

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5

• as it turns out Luke isn't as unaffected by the night you spent together as he unintentionally makes you believe 

• and how could he ever be?

• he might be able to pretend like nothing happened but inwardly has to deal with a lot of conflicting feelings

• first and foremost he's afraid he scared you away with his intense behavior and stern orders, his loud voice and the demand you stay with him

• after all you haven't been over to visit his child ever since, maybe you fear to be around him?

• he could never judge you for it either, you, who always are so gentle and timid around him

• he simply overdid it this time, overstepped a line and it's in your right to act accordingly

• thinking back on it now he's only able to shake his head at himself and at the way he treated you 

• in the heat of the moment it all seemed so strangely justified, every action he took only with your best interest and well being in mind

• but since a little time has passed he sees that a calmer, more conventional approach probably wouldn't have you avoiding him presently

• left to his own devices he's helplessly replaying how he dragged you into the bathroom and made you strip in front of him, even intervening by ripping off your clothes himself when you took too long for his liking 

• he completely disregarded how you might have felt in the moment, that quite possibly you did not want to undress in front of your best friend's father 

• let alone be undressed by him

• it would've been better to drive you home afterwards too, what went on in his mind to deny you?

• you are an adult, he doesn't own you, who did he think he was to forbid you from leaving?

• Luke doesn't know, of course, that the complete opposite is the case

• you very much wish for him to acknowledge his actions that night 

• and neither are you actively avoiding him, your friend is making you stay away for research purposes 

• "let him stew for a while", they said, "and we'll see how long it takes him to ask for your whereabouts again"

• your friend still isn't exactly thrilled about the situation, but it definitely piqued their interest 

• they want to know what's going on

• why is their father playing hot and cold with you?

• they are not amused he's towing you along like this, they really expected better from him

• meanwhile Luke is doing his best to deny that, if he'd listen closely to himself, he'd have to admit what else upsets him so badly 

• to him, even worse than his brashness is the secret knowledge that he enjoyed himself 

• very much 

• finally, he felt, could he rake control, do what needed to be done 

• and you followed him so nicely too, looking at him for guidance, never questioning, never contradicting anything he said

• your blind, even naive obedience touched him deeply

• he felt so needed

• oh and the way you looked at him; if he had a say you'd never be allowed to look at any other man ever again

• he wishes for your eyes to be only on him

• only for him

• but to confront all of this would also mean confessing to himself how he, in turn, looks at you

• how he thinks of you

• the feeling isn't unknown, nothing new, but still comes as a surprise after all this time

• so he's not ready yet to admit how much he wants you all to himself 

• and how could he?

• you're his child's best friend, it's not his place to swoop in and take you away

• he knows how much you mean to them

• and yet he can't help himself despite how ashamed he is 

• again and again he touches himself to the thought of you

• to all the things he could do to you and make you do in return 

• the thoughts come so easily and just won't stop, never leaving him alone 

• would you follow his orders as eagerly as you did so far?

• or would you take on a different approach, maybe turn into a little brat? 

• someone he'd need to teach a lesson to first?

• of course for that you'd need to learn how to be less shy in his vicinity first, could he make that work?

• mmh, he's not sure how he likes you better anyways 

• maybe you'd be open for a little game?

• though no matter in which direction his imagination takes him, always it returns to the picture you made on the floor in front of him, tears running over your soft cheeks, a pleading look in your eyes

• he could do without the tears, but, truth to be told, you are remarkably pretty when you cry 

• so they stay and all that changes are your surroundings

• he wants you to be comfortable of course, you're not supposed to shiver in the cold or sit on hard stone floor 

• you'd be much better off kneeling on a nice cushion in the living room, or on the plush carpet in his office 

• meanwhile his child is watching him like a hawk, intentionally not bringing you up in conversation even once 

• sooner or later he just HAS to do something, mention something, ask even the littlest of questions

• so their theory, at least 

• and they are right, they know their father well after all

• Luke folds after not even two weeks to comment on your prolonged absence from their house 

• he's so busy playing it cool he doesn't realize the way his kid can barely suppress a giggle 

• "and what did you say???", you immediately want to know when they tell you about it the next day

• "nothing", says your friend and laughs at your face "I want him going wild"

• a few days later he asks whether you fell ill after getting caught in the storm 

• like seriously, is everything okay?

• don't they want to go check on you, make sure nothing's wrong?

• are you struggling mentally again?

• did you guys have a falling out?

• are you on vacation?

• your friend keeps a successful poker face through it all, again and again telling him in a noncholant way how busy you are

• and why is he asking about you so much anyways?

• it's not like you're coming over to visit HIM...right?

• Luke retreats at that immediately and it takes him a while to come out of his shell again

• though only barely does he keep himself from grabbing and shaking the answers out of his child 

• "he's sooooo dramatic" your friend tells you "one could think he's a teenager with how he's acting"

• soon they start contemplating and scheming on what they could say about you to unsettle him a bit

• at this point you beg them to stop interfering, to stop putting themselves between the fronts like this 

• it's okay, you assure them, you can let their father go

• but they're not having it

• this isn't about playing matchmaker 

• you are their friend and they'll make sure you're getting treated right even if they have to go up against their dad for it 

• he's a grown man and he needs to start acting like it!

• your protests fall on deaf ears 

• "No, you listen to ME. I refuse to stand by and watch while my dad is playing hard to get. He's either going to tell you to your face he's not interested or, if that's the case, admit he feels drawn to you! He didn't have a problem with that all the many other times it happened."

• you can't deny they have a point and since they know him better than you do, what else is there left to say?

• the next you hear of them is when you receive a quick text with no context whatsoever 

• "listen I think I overdid it a little bit"

• you blankly blink at your phone, no idea what's going on, though you have the sinking feeling it's somehow related to their father 

• the next messages is just as unnerving but proves you right 

• "yeah uhhh sorry about that but he's coming to pick you up"

• "no way", is your immediate thought just before you get a call that makes you nearly drop your phone

• of course it's Luke, of course 

• where did he get your number?

• and what in the hell did your friend tell him?

• you pick up and before you can even finish saying hello he demands to know where you are

• judging by the sounds in the background he's already in the car and most definitely not in a good mood

• accordingly quick comes your answer and your heart unclenches with relief when his voice somewhat softens 

• "be a good girl and wait for me outside then"

• you're so caught off guard it takes you a while to pack your things and search for your jacket and when you step out into the cold he's already waiting for you, leaning against his car

• judging by the way he's dressed he's either coming straight from work or originally planned to go there before God knows what made him change his plans 

• he doesn't look amused and as your heart speeds up so do your steps 

• so eager to make up for the time lost, you nearly bumb into him as you struggle to come to a stop before him 

• if he's annoyed he doesn't show it and nevertheless opens the passenger side's door for you, waiting patiently for you to climb in 

• you're horribly embarrassed when you spot your reflection in the rearview mirror 

• your hair is tousled beyond repair, your cheeks a flaming red from running 

• desperately holding on to your bag like it's an anchor you watch as he slides in beside you 

• but instead of starting the motor and driving off, he turns to properly look at you, his right hand holding on to your head rest 

• you swear you can feel yourself shrinking into the seat as his eyes bore into yours 

• shyly you greet him 

• you don't know what else to do

• a brief smile flits across his face before it grows stern again 

• "who is it?"

• "just tell me and I'll take care of it"

• to say you're confused would be an understatement but as he continues, it slowly dawns on you 

• your friend made up a toxic relationship for you to be in 

• and their father is furious 

[dungeonmessy]

I think laios would eat the 1 day blinding stew by choice

[incorrectstarwarslegendsquotes]

Gavin Darklighter: How to "punish" my sons? Gavin Darklighter: My sons are biting hair! I'm a single father so I don't have the "maternal instinct." Calling all moms: What is the best way to tell them this is not okay without being too harsh? Mirax Terrik: Feed them a stew that makes them go blind. Sera Faleur: Feed them a stew that makes them go blind for *1 day*. Iella Wessiri: Stew that blinds them for a day. Winter Celchu: Feed them a type of stew that makes them blind for 1 day. Leia Organa: 1 Day Blinding Stew

[lacrymatoryao3]

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 10: January, 1900 (Continued)

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there’s smut in this.)

Tag: @photo1030

2,304 Words (AO3 Link)

Arthur was left stewing in it, his conflicting feelings. Tidying up the house, working in the stables, even taking a damn nap. He couldn’t get it out of his head, the way the Sheriff spoke about Ana, and how it reared a possessiveness of her he wasn’t proud of. All because she told him she still loved him. In hindsight he saw it in the things she did for him in the past. She had patched up his wounds, worried about his safety and if he would even come back from his dangerous adventures. She had been the one who washed and mended his clothes, who kept him company at night. He was just blind and too much of a coward to let himself keep it in the moment.

Mary was the one Arthur had intended to marry, but Ana was the closest thing he had came to a wife. It felt odd to realize, but it was completely true. That led Arthur to wonder something. How much did he mix Mary and Ana Maria in his memories? Who did he really miss the most? He still did love Mary as well, but it started to seem different than it used to. He did fail her, like every time before, and she was right to want to move on from him. He said a silent prayer, a very rare action, that wherever Mary went after the last letter she sent to him that she was happy. He hoped she would find someone who is honest and good to her as she deserved. It didn’t hurt anymore that it wasn’t going to be him who provided it. A lot of weight of was lifted off his shoulders.

And then there was still Ana. Arthur wanted to love, to be loved, but part of himself wanted to convince her he wasn’t worth it no matter how badly he needed or desired it. He was incapable of seeing what she saw in him. He wished so desperately he could see the good in himself everyone else seemed to think was there. He couldn’t get over the thought he was never worthy of it. After everything he’d done, surely there had to be some punishment. That all went away when he looked at her, when he thought about her. He couldn’t bring himself to break her heart again. That was an even worse sin to him than every murder and robbery he ever committed.

Self doubt and hatred aside, Arthur got what he wanted. He was a father, bumbling and lost about it like every man probably was. He had a woman who loved him. The question was how to hold onto it instead of running away.

“For now I am a prisoner… in Still-water Jail I lie…” Arthur sang quietly to himself riding on Delfina, humming the parts he had forgotten, “For which I will be sorry… Til my dyin’ day…”

By the time he got to the school the children had already been let out. He knew something was wrong when the sounds of the children weren’t the usual ones they tended to have as he he drew nearer. Some were scared, some excited, but all crowded around the commotion in the front yard. Surrounded by their peers was Arthur Francisco and an older boy circling each other before taking swings like they were grown men. The older boy was taller and looked like he did a lot of farm work. Arthur Francisco, impressively, was able to hold his own against him.

Perhaps he should have let them fight it out, but he couldn’t stand the sight of poor Miss Svensson doing everything she could to separate them. She had taken hard tumble when the older boy got Arthur Francisco on the ground, striking him in the stomach. He didn’t get very many in, Arthur Francisco got the upper hand and grabbed him tightly around the neck and using his knees to roll on top of him. He kept one hand there, pummeling the boy with his other fist. He just kept punching him in the face over and over.

Everything happened so fast Arthur hadn’t fully registered what was happening when he jumped off Delfina and ran to them. He snatched Arthur Francisco from behind, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and yanking him away as the child flailed against him.

“DON’T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT AGAIN, MILLER!” Arthur Francisco hissed at his enemy, “IF YOU DO I SWEAR I’LL KILL YOU!”

He could feel the rage emanating from him, his blue eyes burned like hellfire glaring at the older boy lying before him. Arthur finally and fully saw what Ana had repeatedly told him about their boy: himself. It was in that unmerciful and righteous anger.

“Like hell you will boy!” Arthur objected, putting Arthur Francisco firmly on his feet and grasping him hard on the shoulders, “You don’t talk to no one like that! You hear me?!”

The emotion hearing Arthur Francisco utter those words matched the boy’s own. The audience grew quiet and quickly dispersed, leaving only them, Miss Svensson who was standing and dusting herself off, and the Miller boy sitting defeated on bloody snow.

Arthur spun around, focusing some of his ire to him, “And you, what’s your excuse?! Ain’t you a little too old for this bullshit?!”

Miss Svensson shook her head and helped the Miller boy to his feet, “This happens frequently with Zachariah, I am afraid. Another letter for me to write now.”

“Well, don’t worry about this one.” Arthur huffed, gesturing to Arthur Francisco, “I’ll tell his mama and deal with what I can in the meantime.”

Miss Svensson took the Miller boy inside the school to tend to just injuries.

“What the hell happened anyway?” Arthur asked Arthur Francisco. It had to happen on his watch. As if the day hadn’t dragged on enough. He took a bandana out of his pocket, softly wiping Arthur Francisco’s face to see the damage. His lip was split and bleeding, bruises were already appearing around his left eye and jaw. Arthur had him open his mouth. No teeth where chipped, broken, or missing. He carefully prodded his stomach, checking for any signs of internal injury. The boy only told him it was sore and not painful. That too would be bruised for a while.

Arthur Francisco sighed, “Well… Jane was talking to some of the girls about the new baby. He went up to her and started asking her… not very nice things.”

Arthur nodded, “I can understand wantin’ to defend a girl, but don’t go around threatenin’. Because there comes a time where somebody takes you up on it, and you either become a coward or a killer. Or… you’re the one that gets killed. Me and your mama seen too many men go to an early grave for it. We want better for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I just… Don’t understand why people are so hateful just because someone exists.”

Arthur put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “There’s a lot of them out there, I fear. You just got to be better than they are.”

Arthur gathered their horses. He put Arthur Francisco onto Josefina and tied her reins to the horn of Delfina’s saddle. He led them through town, stopping at the butcher’s to buy some steaks for dinner before setting off home. He kept a close eye on the boy, but besides the darkening contusions on his face he didn’t show any signs of anything else.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened to me…” Arthur Francisco calmly protested, holding the steaks while Arthur put the horses in the stable by himself.

“Yeah, I know, but I want to make sure.” Arthur replied, “If something happened, your mama wouldn’t be afraid to beat me senseless. Now, go inside and put those in the ice box. I’m going to go beck of Mrs. O’Hogan.”

Approaching it, on the outside the O’Hogan’s gingerbread styled home was silent. Once he was at the front door, Arthur could hear the chaos that 5 children in one place could bring. He took off one of his gloves and knocked loudly so it could be heard over the commotion. Mr. O’Hogan stepped out, disheveled and with a big smile on his face.

“I hope we got some good news there!” Arthur greeted.

Mr. O’Hogan clasped him tightly on the shoulder, “We sure fuckin’ do! Little girl, 6 pounds! Both o’ ‘em as healthy as can be! Sent a cable ta the archdiocese in Saint Denis, see if we can get a priest ta come up an’ baptize her.”

O’Hogan let Arthur go, pulling a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lighting it with a match, “So, how about that row Little Arthur had? Heard he put a hell o’ a hurt on that Miller boy.”

“He’s pretty banged up his damn self. I have no idea how I’m going to tell Anie.” Arthur replied, “I just wanted to make sure everything went well with your wife and check how your daughter is doin’. That boy said some nasty things to her I was told.”

“Nothin’ about them Millers ain’t nasty!” O’Hogan replied, “Getting’ tired o’ it. I’m gonna start goin’ with ‘em ta school an’ back.”

“As long as you let our ladies come back.” Arthur said with a hint of humor, “Anyway, you have a good night, Owen. Glad you finally got your third girl! Let our ladies come home soon!”

Making dinner was a lot easier. Arthur knew how to cook a slab of meat, not in a pan but all it did was take slightly longer than holding it over a fire. The boy had enough experience in the kitchen to heat up a can of carrots. They kept a plate in the warming box for Ana. After cleaning up they spent time on the living room floor, drawing animals with the watercolors Arthur Francisco was given for Christmas. Arthur would sketch them out with a pencil, and the boy would paint them. Arthur shared the least traumatic stories about the things he saw over the years. They spent a lot of time talking.

Arthur got him ready for bed on time. He patted the boy lightly on the head, “Your mama should be home soon. She’ll probably check up on you because… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, she usually does.” Arthur Francisco said, “Good night, Arthur.”

Arthur got up and went to the door, “Good night, son.”

[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]

Ana closed the door quietly. She took off her jacket and shoes. Her hands went to her head as she tip toed into the kitchen, pulling out every pin until her hair was free. She was glad everything went well, and that it was over for another two or three years. The O’Hogans made it seem like this would be their last. With a couple like that, she wasn’t sure how long that vow would last.

Maybe if she had something like that, Ana might feel the same about it.

The counter was a note on a piece of torn paper. In Arthur’s fine handwriting was a line about leaving a plate from dinner for her. She hovered her hand over the stove. It was still quite hot. She opened the warming box to find it nearly as fresh as it was from the evening. He was always good when cooking a piece of meat.

She put it on the table, poured a glass of gin, and sat down to enjoy it. Arthur’s door creaked open. He stepped out and sat next to her.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.” Ana said.

Arthur shook his head, “No. I was actually up waitin’ for you. How’d everythin’ go?”

“Good! Of course, there’s always that time when things can be a little risky, but I think Rosaline and the baby will be just fine. How did it go with you and Arthur Francisco?”

“It went well… For the most part…” Arthur went quiet for a moment, “The boy got into a fight when school let out.”

Ana rolled her eyes, “I heard Stephen and Jane tell their father about it. How bad are his wounds this time?”

“He’s pretty banged up. He did worse to that Miller boy.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ana sighed, “Something has to be done about them, before things get worse. I have an idea. Maybe the father will consider it, if you’ll accompany me tomorrow.”

“I sure will. I’d like to see this hated man.”

After Ana ate she went up the stairs with Arthur following behind. She entered Arthur Francisco’s bedroom. The boy was sleeping soundly when she sat down at the edge of his bed, stroking his hair and scanning the bruises on his face. She sighed again and tucked his covers around him, kissing him on the temple before leaving.

Arthur waited for her in the hall. She patted him on the back, “Thank you for everything you did today. I imagine it wasn’t easy for you.”

He saw his chance. Before he his doubts got the better of him, he wrapped his arm around Ana’s waist and drew her to him. She let out a quiet yelp in surprise, but she didn’t pull away. He held her close to his body, her head coming to rest on his chest. He forgot how small she was compared to him, how wonderful it felt to have her pressed against him protectively in his arms. Her warmth filled a hole deep within his heart, one that had grown so accustomed to pain it almost burned. He never thought he’d feel like that again, where his heart raced, his face burned, his hands shook.