#anyway. collapsing and dying I am very tired

[redhotarsenic]

This was the nicest angel they had up there!

[adrift-in-thyme]

Fairy!Time and Minish!Four with the situation being one of the Colors is injured so they can't reform Four or return to normal size

Four and Time my beloveds. I fully intend to write more scenes with them in the future

Fic beneath the cut

Cw for blood and injury

Vio lies on his side on the ground, curled in on himself. Every inhale is a choked hiccup; every exhale shudders. He is as pale as the pearly white wildflowers that tower above them, piercing the sky. The blood that runs down from his middle, coursing past crimson-drenched fingers, is in stark contrast to the emerald blades of grass that wall them in.

“This is bad,” Red chokes, hand pressed to his mouth.

“You think?” Blue snaps. “We can’t go reform with Vio injured! And we definitely can’t revert to normal size!”

Green watches the two of them argue as he kneels beside Vio, the hero’s head propped on his lap.

“But you can heal him.” He tears his gaze from them, sets it on the god-torn face of his friend. “Right?”

Time doesn’t look up. His attention is on the violet clad boy, hands hovering over the wound.

“Yes,” he says, calmly.

His wings wave gently. They are spread on either side of him like a protective barrier between the four shards of one and the outside world. Dire as the situation may be, Green can’t stop his gaze from flicking to them repeatedly. They gleam in the midday sun, panes of stained glass the color of the sky, of blood.

“I can heal him.”

The others grow quiet at his somber words. Vio’s breath hitches.

“It will take much of you-your strength though, won’t it?” Even pain and blood loss cannot dim the gleam in Vio’s eyes. Always thinking. Always analyzing.

“Your wings…you’re n-not a normal fairy.”

Time smiles, soft and grim. “That much is true.”

The dust floating around him like a halo grows thicker, more potent. Time’s eye slides shut. His fingertips graze the very edges of the ragged river carved through Vio.

“And healing is not as easy for me as it is for some of my kin. I am skilled at it, nonetheless.” He sighs and the exhale seems to echo in Green’s aching ears. “Remain still. I promise it won’t hurt.”

There is not much to show that the healing is taking place. Only the slight spread of the thickened fairy dust, a dim glow traveling from Time’s hands to Vio’s wound. But Green stares anyway. All of them do.

He has seen — and felt — a fairy heal his wounds more than once, both as a whole being and while split. Watching his friend do it, however, his brother whom he had never guessed harbored such a secret (and whom had willingly shared this secret in order to find and rescue them), is different.

And the feel of it, the ease of the pangs that had gradually grown in his abdomen the longer Vio suffered, is more gentle, more caring than any other fairy prior.

When the older hero pulls back and the glow disappears, Green hardly knows it. The magic fades in dying whispers, a mere breeze that calmed a hurricane. He is left soothed, painless in its wake.

“You will need to rest,” Time murmurs, exhaustion thick in his tone. “But the danger is passed. If you wish to reunite, I think the only side effect would be fatigue.” He inclines his head. “Only you truly understand the nature of the magic you all use, however. If you don’t yet feel ready to become one and regain your original size, I will stay with you until you are.”

Vio blinks dazedly up at him. There is more color in his cheeks now that the bleeding has stopped.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “But there is no need for you to stay.”

“You’ve done so much,” Red puts in.

Blue nods. “We can take care of ourselves now.”

“We will reform once Vio’s rested,” Green says. Even to his tired eyes, Time looks ready to collapse. To mend such a severe wound could not have been a simple feat. “And then we’ll head back to camp. We’ll be alright, I promise.”

Time gazes at them all. Then, he smiles.

“Would a little company really be so terrible?” He cocks his head. “I would like to know more about these powers of yours, if you’re willing to share.”

“Of course, we would enjoy your company,” Green says with a grin. “And we would be happy to explain our power to you.”

“Only if you’re up for explaining yours,” Blue remarks, flopping down beside the two other pieces of himself. Red follows suit.

Time chuckles. “My secret is already known. There is no reason to hold back what I know of this form.”

Vio’s eyes brighten anew with that intelligent fire of his. And Green can’t help but smile as he asks his questions — voice growing stronger with each one — and Time, aglow with magic, wings still reflecting the sun in jagged prisms of warning…begins to answer them.

[lappel-du-vide83]

Also getting back to the manhwas train I finally read debut or die which was?? Not at all like I was expecting?? But anyways, here are just my reactions (often kinda random) but I hope you read through and can figure out what's going on while finding it funny!

Also don't ask me which chapter it starts at because brother in arms I don't know either

EUGENE IS SO FUNNY

[VTIC Cheongryeo sunbae-nim: Call me if you feel like dying ^^]

- LMFAOOOO what

didn’t know where this dogsh*t idea came from. Does his pituitary produce saliva instead of hormones? It was fortunate that he was the type to be impressed by trivial interpersonal relationships.

- woah what went straight for the jugular

I never thought that the situation where I cried for the first time in nearly 7 years would be live in front of a camera with 13,000 people.

- AND AIN'T AFRAID TO CRY

- OR TREAT HIS MAMA RIGHT

“You didn’t have a trashy attitude back then, Moondae. You just worked hard even though you were sick. Chungwoo hyung was worried too.”

- Oml

[We have to lose!]

- Bless cha Eugene's heart

-- HE'S SAYING IT IN ENG

Hey, that’s scary. I’m scared.’

- Behold the intelligence of mcs

The company’s internal network structure is derived from T1.’

- HOLY SHIT THIS GUY'S DEDUCTING SKILLS IS CRAZY

- Have you considered a career in

- Forensic?

He also gave very American advice.

- LMFAO

I cheered as I reviewed the ten-day seclusion plan.

- FR

- secluded for 10 days sounds like the DREAM

‘I am so f*cking uncomfortable with it, you bastard.’

- Leave the poor man alone 😭

-- Is this..?

-- THE KIDNAPPING???

(- WHAT

Why don’t you try to commit suicide?”

- CRAZY BASTARD

-- He is now the kidnapper

--- Kidnappee turn kidnapper

Because I beat the sh*t out of him.”

- Amen

It’s okay. I won.”

- HELL YEAH YOU DID

The fact that I was injured enough to go to the hospital was funnier.

- WHAT STOP

- HE COLLAPSED

- WTF

- PLS REST

--

HE'S ACTUALLY SO MANIPULATIVE

-- USING THE SKILL

-- SUBTLY CHANGING THEIR THOUGHTS IT'S CRAZY

---

DO YOU REALLY WANNA WORK THAT HARD

Arent you drinking too much

- ONG was not expecting this to actually be a problem

You look tired these days!”

- OMG HE _IS_ AN UNRELIABLE NARRATOR

--

Oh no he got a SURPRISE BDAY PARTY

-- Woah so his actual one is 8 dec??

-- That's awfully close

---

WATCHING RED PANDAS IN THE CORNER OF HIS ROOM

--- SAUR CUTE

----

HIS GRANDMA IS AN OPP

---- I'M SORRY IT'S REALLY MEAN BUT GET IT TOGETHER GIRL

---- OMG CHA YUJIN INSISTING THAT HE STAY

---- URGHHH MY HEART

Self criticism should be done during spare time not when it's a nuisance

- I respect this man so much

like a brainless idiot

- STOP

- YOU ARE SMART

- AND AMAZING

- YOU JUST GIVE 200% AT THE WRONG TIMES

--

AW OMG HE CARES SO MUCH

-- BLESS RAEBIN

-- EVERYONE ACTUALLY

-- THEY ARE THERE FOR EACH OTHER SO MUCH

- - -

Woah wait so they're aiming for a Moondae is the the same person as bae sejin feel??

--- I am INVESTED in the mv lore

It doesn't matter if it was worse this time

- NO

- IT'S ALREADY SO BAD

- THE RECOIL SHOULD NOT GET WORSE

- THAT'S RIGHT SLEEP MORE

- JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE BACCHUAS DOESN MEAN YOU DONT NEED SLEEO

--

OH NO

-- THE ACCIDENT

-- STOP

-- ARGHHH

-- WILL YOU REST PLEASE

-- OH THANK FUCK

---

WAIT

--- NO

--- NONONONO

--- STOP

--- NOT ALLT HE WAY BACK

--- Daydream??

( how desparate he is)

- OH MY FUCKING GOD

- SHOULD I JUMP OFFF

- NO

- OMG

- NO

--

OMG THIS REALISATION is Tearing me APART

rapid prayers in spanish

- the angst here is killing me

--

THANK GOD FOR NECTAR

-- 18 DAY COMA

OMFG

-- CHA YUJIN IS SAUR CUTE

-- BRIBED HIM WITH TANGEIRNES

-- HE'S SORRY

-- HE IS FORGIVEN

-- CHA YUJIN KEEPING QUIET ABOUT VTIC

-- AND BLACKMAILING MOONDAE

-- SO ADORABLE

---

FUNDRAISING

--- He's actually so sweet

--- PLS EVERYONE WAS CRYING

"do you think I'm some kind of sociopath"

- SEJIN NO

- THEYRE FRIENDS <333

- PLEASE I NEED THEM TO BE HAPPY

--

So the system is actively trying to help him??

---

TSRANDED ARC!!

--- Lights out :0

--- SAVE THE CHICKENS

--- The secret door is so ominous

--- Horror arc

--- OMG MOONDAE GOING wtf do I do??

--- SO REALL

--- WAS SO SCARED FOR A SECOND

----

THE MEETING

---- OMG

---- OMG

---- OMG

---- OMG

---- AHHHHHH

---- DID HE RUN AWAY???

---- I'M SO CONFUSED

---- BUT RGW IN THIS CONTEXT IS SO SWEET

HE TRIED TO COMMIT DEATH

- WHAT

- WHAT THE FUCK

- HUH

- IT ENDED LIKE THAT????

- No more abnormalities???

- WHAT

--

:OO A CONVO WITH OG PMD

Ah the need to be in control of every situation

- So valid

AND THEN MY TEXTS JUST END THERE SO...

anyways hope you had a laugh

And I really hope this fandom gets so much bigger than it is now :)

[infinityonhighvevo]

i know it’s personal but if you are ever interested in sharing that story on here i’d be interested in hearing it! <3

hehehehe thanks anon i love talking about my heart problems <3 medical story time below so trigger warning for all that; tldr i died but i got better

so i’m in my first semester of my sophomore year of college and i get sick. i’m the type of guy who gets sick a bunch but, having just come out of a COVID spike in the area i lived in, i was nervous. i go to the doctor and test negative so i assume it’s just a miserable cold. (i test negative another twelve times throughout the ordeal.) i have a fever for a few days; it goes away but i’m still coughing, short of breath but not wheezing, and tired. i’m sick like this for like six or seven weeks (yeah, weeks) before i go to my doctor again. after a clear chest x-ray she’s like, okay, your lungs sound like ass, it’s walking pneumonia, take ten days of antibiotics and get another x-ray if it doesn’t get better

meanwhile, i can’t walk anywhere because i can’t breathe, i have to stop while walking up the stairs to my fifth floor dorm room because my heart races any time i do more than two flights, my feet are crazy swollen, i have to sleep sitting up because i can’t breathe lying down, and i keep waking up at like 2 in the morning to pee because my muscles are so weak i genuinely can’t hold it. basically, i’m super gross. (and, as it turns out, dying.)

the ten days of antibiotics go by and i’m sicker than ever. i go get a second chest x ray through my school’s medical center. (which sucks, by the way. the people care but they can’t do shit.) i get a call at the end of the day from them: they want me to uber to the er for a CT. yeah. uber. props to them for not saddling me with an ambulance bill but i was for real dying and they should have done it anyway. my good friend is luckily free to drive me, though, so i scarf down some microwaveable mac and cheese (because college) and off we go.

i sit in the ER with a former friend for six whole hours before i get taken back. i get tested on, i throw up my maccy cheese, and finally at 2am i get told by the er doc, very bitchily, that i need to have a procedure done. i am the type of deathly ill where my brain just isn’t cognitively functioning, so i do not understand what he is saying. i ask if he can wait until the morning so my parents can be there. he rolls his eyes and is just as bitchy to my surgeon father who i call on the phone. i don’t end up having the procedure done, and my mom comes to get me first thing next morning. she takes me to the hospital my dad works at. i get my lung drained!

the x-ray that my school had sent me to get showed that my right lung had almost completely collapsed. for context, each lung can hold about a liter of air. i had 850mL of fluid drained from my pleural space, which is the sac surrounding the lung. it had almost completely collapsed my lung. the procedure was gross but not that painful. they stick a syringe between your ribs and pull the fluid out. you get numbed, so it just feels like weird pressure, but the fluid itself is nasty and murky. i felt better after my thoracentesis—still sick, but better. they kept me overnight for observation, thinking that it was just bad pneumonia from my asthma and that everything was fixed.

everything was not even close to being fixed. i slept like ass and felt even worse. at like 8am they did an echocardiogram, which is basically a heart ultrasound. by 10am i’d been moved up to a different wing and was shaking hands with the guy about to break my sternum open and save my life by stopping my heart for a few hours.

basically, i had a strain of strep that travels in the bloodstream. it had, by sheer force of terrible luck, infected my mitral valve, completely destroying it. we think i had a congenital defect, but the valve was so fucked when i got to the hospital that they literally couldn’t tell. if i hadn’t had surgery when i did, i think i would have only lasted another week. i got open heart surgery to replace my valve with a prosthetic, and then a pacemaker surgery five days later because my rhythm didn’t come back on its own. i got put on hardcore antibiotics for like six weeks that i lowkey became allergic to at the end.

overall, it was not a fun experience but it did dramatically shape me as a human being. i’m now a cyborg and i get cold/numb fingers and toes really easily. also my scars turn bright red when i drink, which is a fun party trick. i’m bluetooth enabled, which is terrifying, and i get special treatment at the airport, which is nice because i like attention. the best part? built in icebreaker for the rest of my life. the worst part was the dying. obviously.

seriously, though, if you’re short of breath for a while, have a fever at any point, and have swollen feet, have someone carry you to the hospital. those three together are big indicators that your heart is fucked.

[blackjackkent]

It occurs to me that after punching so many Steel Watchers into small pieces, Hector's knuckles must hurt like all nine of the Hells.

Anyway, let's finish this place and get the hell out of here.

"The Neurocitor. I can hear its hum - familiar, yet painful. I helped design the Steel Watchers, toiled night and day on the first bipedal prototype. It is fitting it ends this way. I will bring down not only the Steel Watch but the very Foundry itself. This place will be smoke and rubble when I am finished. Are you ready, my friend?"

Why do I get the concerning impression that you are about to go down with the ship, Toobin?

(Gods, Hector looks tired.)

"What are you going to do?"

"Like the Foundry, the Neurocitor's exterior is near impossible to penetrate. However, its inner circuitry is highly unstable. I'm going to rain fire upon it - from the inside out."

This is not doing anything to assuage my concerns but I don't really seem to have the option to stop you at this point.

"Do it."

"Gond - let your hammer be my courage, your furnace my heart."

-----

Astonishingly, he actually wasn't sacrificing himself, and we got a very fun little sequence of everyone booking it out of the facility before it exploded.

And, of course, guess who's waiting for us outside. >:(

"That was a hell of a show, my friend. Watchers collapse in the street as we speak. And the Foundry? Well, it won't stain this beautiful city with its abominations - not anymore."

Oh, man, Wulbren, Hector is SO not in the mood to deal with you right now. Go away.

"But it's not over. So long as a single parasitic Gondian remains, Baldur's Gate is under threat."

"Wulbren. Enough. The Gondians are no more. I am all that is left. You've won. Take the city - let the Ironhands reign supreme. I just wish to go home and mourn my daughter in peace."

(A/N: This quest is definitely a bit confused about itself at times. Most of what Toobin just said is incorrect - there are at least two Gondians still alive from the Foundry besides him, not to mention all but two of the hostages from the Iron Throne - one of whom is his daughter that he claims to want to go and mourn. I suspect this line will be the target of a humorous patch note at some point in the future.

The main point of course remains the same, which is that the Gondians have suffered terribly and Wulbren is being an enormous turd.)

"Toobin is right," Hector says wearily. "It's over." There is just the slightest hint of muted threat in his voice. This has been a long physically taxing and emotionally draining day and he is more than ready for it to be over. He doesn't want to be Wulbren's enemy, but he is pretty sure he's also no longer Wulbren's friend, and if the Ironhands try to push this issue Hector is fully ready to throw them over the horizon.

Wulbren laughs coldly. "Please. If a Gondian told me the sky was blue, I'd look outside and check. Toobin will lie, torment, and scheme until his dying breath. Kill him - or the Ironhands will."

(A/N: Hector kept making this incredibly sad-puppy face through this whole scene, which is definitely a face he has made in a lot of other circumstances, but is actually not appropriate for this one. He's tired, and he's MAD - at Gortash who is not within immediate reach, and at Wulbren who is the nearest available target.

We have the option for a [CLERIC OF SELUNE][PERSUASION] check here but I think this is one of the few scenarios in which Hector doesn't want to take it. There's another, much harsher line that is much more in line with his mental state right now given how shaken up and upset he is at the moment.)

Hector is silent for a long moment, then lifts his head and meets Wulbren's eyes with a steady, hollow stare. No more. I can't stop all the cruelty in this city, but I can stop you, right now.

[ROGUE][INTIMIDATION] "I know a hundred ways to kill you, Wulbren," he says. His tone is flat and hard, like an unbreakable wall. "So I'm only going to say this once." He takes one step forward in the gnome's direction. "Walk. Away."

Wulbren's head snaps back and his eyes narrow to slits.

"I thought you a rebel in arms," he hisses. "I see now you were but a snake waiting for its moment to strike."

He turns a sneering gaze across each member of the group in turn, and then spits on the road between them. "Keep your blind Gondian," he growls. "I have no use for broken things. But know that I will not rest until this city is rid of the Gondians and their bootlickers. When the day comes, my hammer will find your skulls and crack them wide open. Ironhands - move out!"

------

Karlach knows Hector very well by this point and she has seen him reach his breaking point a couple times. She can see the signs of it now, and as Wulbren turns to walk away, she darts forward and throws both arms around Hector's torso from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. She feels the tense of his muscles in her grip and knows she guessed right - he was about to leap forward, to lash out.

"Easy, soldier," she mutters. "He's not worth it. Let him go."

For a moment she thinks he is going to try and struggle away from her, but he hesitates, then sags a little in her embrace, his weight sinking back against her chest. "Bigoted bastard..." he mutters. "Does he not see the suffering these people have endured? Does he not care?"

"Don't think he does," Karlach says grimly. "Too caught up in his own anger. Wish I could say I don't know what that's like, but I guess I'd be lying. But that doesn't make it right."

He nods slightly. "Gods, what a day. What a bloody day..."

"Lets go home, soldier," she says quietly. "Let's just go home. We did it. The Watchers are done. We can go after Gortash now, come morning. We did what we had to do."

"It doesn't bring Toobin's people back," he says hollowly. "It doesn't bring that little girl back..." A long pause. "So many years I lived in that cloister and never realized how much cruelty there is in the world. How much anger..."

She hesitates, then presses a cautious kiss to the back of his neck. He shivers, closes his eyes and turns in her embrace to rest his face into her shoulder.

She just holds him a little while before speaking again. "I was stuck too, the last ten years, you know. Not able to do much good for anyone. Maybe we would have done more, if we were here before, but we weren't. We're here now, and we're doing a hell of a lot. Don't you fucking lose sight of that, Hec. Not for a moment."

He draws a slow breath and lets it out heavily. "Thanks," he says quietly. "Let's just... let's just go. I need to put this place behind us."

[ladygoofball]

A Shady Love Poem from the office of Cassandra Apparently

For Apparently, Nobody. Fuckers. If you want Inanna's story? You'll keep reading. If not, feel free to scroll on by and accept my little written kiss sounds

kiss muah muah lovie lovie thank you for the time.

I just love pushing the boundaries of what is possible because the only thing I've ever been good at is fantasizing a better life for myself. I'm just nobody though, don't quote me on that.

To clarify it is to the same audience as my Battle Worn Boots poem. I'm tired of figuring out the meaning of words. You might say I've been chasing some wild geese for crumbs. What the hell do I know though? I'm just a lady! An American at that!

Another application? In this economy?! Come on. I've done thousands over the course of 7 years, and I'm pretty sure that is not hyperbole but I can't look in my emails without feeling a sense of disgust in my own behavior. Call it an official Strike Declaration.

The offices of Cassandra Apparently calls that? Witchcraft. Ereshkigal's crypto-testimonial (free of as many negative effects to the environment as humanly possible so better than crypto currency) is below the cut. The vibe? Keep that li'l diddy on repeat.

DATE OF PREDICTION: Basically all of 2024 so far. Assholes.

First off? Fuck you for questioning that authenticity. That needs to be said in no uncertain terms. Call me Absolute Truth, if you dare. I won't accept that in writing that needs to be told TO my face. That's where my self respect is, raise the bar any higher and I'll be happy to take this shit elsewhere tyvm (thank you very much in american gods damned english)

The spirits told me?

CALL THE PROJECT CASSANDRA!!!

I knew They'll say "No, that's too good to be true!" The bots will prevent the word from Reaching you. I did it anyway. That's too bold? Cool now I have to code switch to flirting because characters are limited and have to jump through hoops to prove I'm not trying to do that with any real ass person right now.

I say? I'll keep knocking until I get answers. As politely as possible until it might get to be too late. That's called good cyber security working out of courtesy to save something worth fighting for, Your Honor. What if there was a better world that I could show you?

I keep them begging. Yearning for the definition of the word. I am a Lit'rary thirst trap on the world wide web. I'll be Miss spider for a second and keep going anyway.

Oh...yes? GIVE IT TO ME, PLEASE!!!!

Bitch, "please"?

Just "please"? Not even dolling it up for me?

THE queen of 2020 hindsight? Come on.

You know what, now I have to start laying some ground rules. Call them boundaries, a steel sword in a marriage bed, or whatever. That's why I'm so activated anyway, I'm now in military generational trauma land Your Honor.

Yes, it is kind of your fault...but Yes it is kind to know people care. No, I'm not really that angry but Witness Ereshkigal cannot rest this case until it she knows it has been WITNESSED. Inanna does not come out for just anyone. /genuine.

I just have to set some HARD LINES IN THE SAND. I call that: building a wall with just imaginary bricks and mortar since the economy is collapsing and border walls are a poor concept in real life anyway. I call that Quality American Craftsmanship, a dying breed. I watched "Adventures from the Book of Virtues", I know when something is just a lesson and when something is direct. That was how I went to sleep thanks to good ole public television.

Rules for Conducting Business with Cassandra Actually, if you want to come into her house and beg her forgiveness for not listening to her sooner.

For the Camp Records: No, You don't personally have to, but someone should at this point for fuck's sake.

Rule 1: JUST PLEASE?! If this elvish paradise isn't enough for you, then hand me the keys. I'll drive US somewhere better, eh? We can call that Manifest Destiny without slaughtering native peoples and not endangering anyone in the process for being too on the nose. If that's not possible? I get it, but somebody has to try to get something better for me and for the record? I'm very happy to do it by myself thank you very much. My grandmother owns her own building. It's in my blood to seek the best for myself. Noni would approve, and she calls me frequently to provide tech support for her because she can't work a computer to get tenants. I don't have a single aspect of what I do on this WWW that is not exploited by someone, so that's why it has to be like that.

Rule 2: Do not do me the discourtesy of keeping their names from my shit list. If they bother any of you, bring them to me. I'll show them a way around a word or two. I've written thousands just for myself and nobody gets to see that before I am finished.

That last song probably got old by now, so you know what? Let's throw in another one to change the audience and the tone without putting words to what I'm doing for once in my gods damned life.

Rule 3: If I swing and I tell You to Duck? Then, bitch you had better get Quacking. That's not putting too much emphasis on the timeline, that's running out of funds to write checks that I can't cash if I wanted to because Nobody says it is not safe for me there. My entire Organization is on the line. I still honor the value of words, which is a craft that is apparently lost on these ghosts.

Rule 4: I may have been here for a while now, but I do NOT make time for anyone who can't get their damned facts straight. Even if it hits them over the head with ACME's Anvil. Bugs Bunny ass. That's not my problem, Your Honor. That sounds like a pissed off spirit. Too bad the art of Necromancy is dead in this place. If only a wizard knew how to Divine the cards as well as we can. A shame, really.

He must not be a master of the school of Divination like he claims to be!

Rule 5: I do not have time and will not make time for anyone who cannot get their facts STRAIGHT. It's the only straight thing about me, all these facts that I have are the definition of the straight and narrow.

He says that the way I hit it makes him forget his words? Try harder than that!

He says I must be celestial with all these angels singing in the chorus? Try harder than that!

The tone shifts away again? She can't keep doing this, but They say "Third time is the charm!"

Bozo Apparently asks: WHO THE FUCK HEALED YOU? WHO LAID HANDS? WHO CHARGED? THE GOOSE GIRL?? Over 400 hours, assholes. And weeks of playing with wild geese on the internet. 3 different runs through the Holy Narrative and I refuse to play through Act two until my eyes stop burning and my psyche is healed. I know how to play a video game or two and I know far better ones I can spend my time with. Ask Matthew Mercer who my last man might have been. Call that? Rune Factory 4 approves.

Did you say: Only a General could get them stepping this fast?

Bozo says: It could have been too late, sorry I'm a bit rushed! The economy is collapsing and industries I keep trying to get into are shutting me out faster than I can count how many weeks my unemployment checks. It's not that bad, all things considered, but if I was more than a half inch away from losing my familiars with no other options to save them I would not call myself Witch.

Bitch. Fuck a closing paragraph.

Wait, one last recommendation? Watch "The Social Dillema" and tell me I'm looking too into subliminal messaging online again motherfucker. You might as well add the Lizzie Bennet Diaries youtube series to your media diet too, while you're at it.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Venting time. Apologies.

Gah, what a week.

I discovered I had not one, but two tires with problems. So now I am trying to drive as little as possible while I figure out how I can afford to buy new ones. Guess I’m even more trapped than usual.

The mice I start trying to poison a week and a half ago aren’t dying. Instead there are more, who have decided to throw nightly parties next to my bed. I have had to start moving my books** to Mom’s house, but I am still worried about what they are gnawing on.

I had a mysterious and terrifying medical problem one night. It was the sort of thing where IF I didn’t have a blinding phobia of health care professionals (traumatic valid reasons) and IF I had health insurance and IF I had money at all and IF I had any sort of an emotional or practical support structure to help me I’d have been at an ER. Instead I was lying awake all night, afraid I might not wake up and wondering if I should write something to beg people not to throw out my sculpting and journals when I die��just in case***.

I felt okay the next day and ever since, but suddenly dropping dead lingers in my mind.

I dropped my camera in the swamp!

I can’t really explain why, but for the last couple of months I have taken to going out to the swamp and and just lying on the ground to watch the beavers and ducks do their thing. All my life I have spent so much time in the woods, but lying down out there was an absolute no. There are simply too many bitey things around here, and it has gotten so you can run into ticks year round. The only time I ever actually lay on the ground was during a near suicidal bout I had. I’m not that depressed yet.

Anyway, lying there right next to the swamp, trying to take a photo without scaring a beaver nearby, had my camera balanced on my thigh. And then it got unbalanced, and down it went, rolling into the water (admittedly only a couple feet away) with a PLOP. At least it still works, mostly.

BUT my phone has decided to stop working! Well, some of the time it works. Some of the time it’s like listening to the inside of a tornado, and you can’t hear a damn thing. Other times it won’t dial. And others it cuts off in the middle of a call. It took seven tries today before I could get Mom. It worked fine then, but it’s been so unreliable this week I have no idea if it will work.

I wish I could say next week will be better, BUT I have a very, very, very long list of things I didn’t get done last week, including at least three extremely urgent problems that got lost with new urgent things to deal with.

I dunno, lying under that tree next to the swamp until I rot away sounds kinda appealing right now….

Or not. Enduring mosquito swarms **** would be a fate even worse than death!!

** I don’t get other folks and books. I saw someone on here saying you should pack books in shoeboxes and I howled with laughter. My family are books people with thousands of books. As a child I would pack a small suitcase of just books when we went on trips. I had moved most of mine when the floor first collapsed, BUT I did keep a few. Few hundred actually.

***My brother once said he intends to throw out all my stuff when I die, and I have no one else to leave my things to. Besides, the way my cousins’ belongings disappeared when they died, likely junked before we even knew they were dead, I have little confidence that he will even get the chance to decide the fate if my things.

**** Winter ended WAY too soon this year, and I am already sick to death of the damn mosquitoes. Not a good sign when it’s still fuckin’ February!!!!

[thebibliosphere]

"But you're so successful without it."

Content warning: This post contains mentions of suicidal ideation.

I got a message earlier tonight that I'm not going to post, but I did ask the person involved if I could talk about what we subsequently ended up talking about in DMs because I feel it's important.

Basically, it was along the lines of "My kid got diagnosed with ADHD and really wants to try meds. I know from reading your blog that correct treatment for ADHD can be really beneficial, but I just don't think she's severe enough to need them."

The message then went on to ask me, as someone who is unmedicated with ADHD, for some tricks and tips on how to be successful without medication because clearly, look how well I'm doing without them. I mean, look at my blog, look at my book(s)! Surely if I can do all that without ADHD meds, other people can too. Surely there's a trick. A skill. Something you can learn if you just try hard enough...

This is not the first time I have received a message like this. In fact, I probably get about 2-5 messages like this a week.

Usually from other people who also have ADHD/suspect ADHD but don't want medication because they don't think they need it/don't want to need it, and yet can't figure out why they're struggling so much, and ask me how do I do the thing(s) and cope so well and get so much done, etc., etc.

So I'm going to tell you what I told this person tonight in case it helps someone. Yes, I have ADHD. No, I am not medicated due to severe health complications, and yes, I get a lot done. From the outside, I am sure it looks incredibly productive and successful. But I'm going to let you in on what that success feels like.

It feels like dying.

It feels like my brain is on fire; every nerve in my body scraped raw; every part of me wired and exposed to the noise of the world. There is no quiet; there is no calm. And even when my brain does fall silent, it's another kind of death. The inside of my head is sludge, flowing uphill like treacle, weighing me down, pulling me under in the riptide of my inability to focus. I can see what needs to be done, I can see it so clearly, yet sometimes it's like I don't control my own body. Not enough dopamine. Not enough brain chemicals for the message I'm screaming in my head to make my limbs do the simplest of tasks. Like, feed myself. Take a shower. Answer that email. Text my friends back. Go to bed when I'm tired. Write a best-selling novel...

A novel that almost killed me and not because of my other ailments, but because of my unmedicated ADHD.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I was already operating at critical mass when I went into final rewrites/edits. Every coping mechanism I had fell apart. Like training wheels falling off a tricycle, leaving me to wobble unsteadily until the main wheels fell off, swiftly followed by the handlebars until all that was left was me peddling frantically trying to keep my balance and not getting anywhere. I didn't realize it then, but I was heading towards a complete mental collapse. And even when I dragged myself across the finish line with the above and beyond help provided by my friends and editors, I was so burned out I couldn't enjoy my success. Worse, my success made me suicidal.

It took me until very recently, almost two years later, to be able to read Phangs without feeling suicidal. My brain associated it with the trauma of experiencing complete ADHD burnout but having to complete a monumental task anyway.

I had to go into intensive therapy to recover. I am still in intensive therapy for it.

It took me even longer after that to be able to sit down and write without harming myself. I still struggle with it, and I tell you this in all honest sincerity in the hope it makes you realize what it costs me to be "successful" and unmedicated.

And this wasn't the first time I've had to deal with this, either.

I struggled all through high school, all through college, all through every career job I ever had, knowing there was something wrong, but not quite being able to put my finger on it because hey, I still got stuff done, so it couldn't be that bad, right? Surely everyone went through life feeling this way? Right?

...right?

It wasn't until I got my ADHD diagnosis as an adult that I realized what was happening. Why I struggled so much. Why life was so hard. In many ways, it was like the sun coming up. An internal dawning of realization and acceptance, but also rage.

So much rage.

Rage at how much I'd had to struggle because no one noticed because I was quiet and undisruptive. Rage at a system that forced me to learn in ways that were not intuitive to my brain. To always being told, "doesn't apply herself" while it felt like I was clawing my brain apart trying to do what people wanted from me. To a work-life balance, that rewards all the things that make ADHD actively worse. Rage. So much rage it hurts. And to top it all off, I can't be medicated for it. I finally know what's different, I finally know why my world feels raw and turned inside out, and I can't take any of the medications that might help me.

Do you know how angry I wake up every day that there is a possible solution just within my grasp, but my health conditions prevent me from trying them? Do you know how much it hurts? How much I grieve for the person I could be if I was able to have help beyond therapy and coaching? How much happier I could be...

Not productive. Not successful. Happy.

So ask yourself, what do you want more? A child who has to go through all of this and resents you for prolonging their suffering? Who winds up hating themselves by internalizing the false concept that if they just try hard enough, they can do whatever they set their mind to.

Or do you want to help them?

Or if this is you, why are you afraid to help yourself?

Please, don't use me as an example to harm yourself or others. Yes, I am successful without medication. But the toll is high. Too high.

Rid yourself of the idea that you need to suffer more to be allowed help. You don't. They don't. No one does.

[mixelation]

Crack concept: Team 7 time travel where they wake up in their genin bodies and easy-mode the plot, but everyone has woken up in the wrong body.

Sakura is in Naruto's body.

Naruto is in Sasuke's body.

Sasuke is in Sakura's body.

Kakashi gets filled in on what's happened almost immediately, so that he can spend his time running after his disaster of a team and coming up with increasingly bad excuses for why they're Like This

They wake up in the middle of the Wave mission so they have to basically go into battle without any sort of practice at being in each other's bodies

Naruto: HOW DO I TURN ON THE SHARINGAN Sasuke: Just think about the worst thing that's ever happened to you-- Sakura, why am I already tired?? Naruto: SASUKE IT'S NOT WORKING Sakura: Oh my god, Naruto, no wonder you had such bad chakra control! This is more than I had as an adult! Sasuke: Sakura, I'm dying-- (SAKURA BREAKS THE ENTIRE BRIDGE)

Anyway, Sakura-in-Naruto's body is definitely the most useful of the three in terms of combat because her chakra control transfers. All three get to keep their ~experience~ in terms of combat and jutsu (so Sakura can still do medical jutsu, Sasuke can do low-power genjutsu but can't get Sakura's body to fire/lightning jutsu very easily, etc), but jutsu involving a nature transformation that they're not used to/their current body isn't aligned with takes some practice, and obviously Sasuke and Naruto aren't used to fighting without a magic eyeball or demon fox. (Sakura is also not used to fighting without her byakugou to fall back on, but this is much less of an immediate problem for her.)

Naruto tries to send Sakura to go collect the Toad summoning contract and learn the Rasengan from Jiraiya, but she finds him peeping on a bathhouse and flips her shit, and she doesn't get anything out of it.

Sakura: JUST TEACH ME THE RASENGAN YOURSELF Naruto: You can't just learn my signature technique without months of practice-- Sakura: (gets it in about three tries because of her chakra control + overall experience with nature transformation + Naruto's body's affinity for wind) Naruto: are you kidding me

Sasuke wants to go off to Do Something About Itachi immediately but he keeps pushing Sakura's body too far and collapsing. No, he will NOT stop trying; he knows this thing will get super tough eventually. Just.... eventually, okay??

They realize they can pre-empt a lot of bad plot stuff by hunting down Obito and Zetsu, and this leads to a lot of shenanigans like "Naruto collapses out after one (1) chidori even though he still has plenty of chakra, because Naruto is simply not used to having to do anything running on low and thinks he is dying" and "Sasuke remembers some Earth/Water techniques he copied in his previous life and can get Sakura's body to do them, but unfortunately he keeps forgetting he has noodle arms" and "Sakura in Naruto's body is a fucking beast in combat, but she lacks Naruto's charisma and therefore attempts to solve the Gaara problem by Murdering Him"

Orochimaru keeps showing up to try and mark Sasuke (Naruto) and all three just sort of treat him like an annoyance and it's hurting his feelings

Naruto's Talk-no-Jutsu with Sasuke's pretty privilege....... unstoppable???

[qqueenofhades]

Do you really hate this county? Or were you just ranting?

Sigh. I debated whether or not to answer this, since I usually keep the real-life/politics/depressing current events to a relative minimum on this blog, except when I really can't avoid ranting about it. But I have some things to get off my chest, it seems, and you did ask. So.

The thing is, any American with a single modicum of genuine historical consciousness knows that despite all the triumphalist mythology about Pulling Up By Our Bootstraps and the American Dream and etc, this country was founded and built on the massive and systematic exploitation and extermination of Black and Indigenous people. And now, when we are barely (400 years later!!!) getting to a point of acknowledging that in a widespread way, oh my god the screaming. I'm so sick of the American right wing I could spit for so many reasons, not least of which is the increasingly reductive and reactive attempts to put the genie back in the bottle and set up hysterical boogeymen about how Teaching Your Children Critical Race Theory is the end of all things. They have forfeited all pretense of being a real governing party; remember how their only platform at the 2020 RNC was "support whatever Trump says?" They have devolved to the point where the cruelty IS the point, to everyone who doesn't fit the nakedly white supremacist mold. They don't have anything to do aside from attempt to usher in actual, literal, dictionary-definition-of-fascism and sponsor armed revolts against the peaceful transfer of power.

That is fucking exhausting to be aware of all the time, especially with the knowledge that if we miss a single election cycle -- which is exceptionally easy to do with the way the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time, rather than just getting their asses to the polls and voting to keep Nazis out of office -- they will be right back in power again. If Manchin and Sinema don't get over their poseur pearl-clutching and either nuke the filibuster or carve out an exception for voting rights, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is never going to get passed, no matter how many boilerplate appeals the Democratic leadership makes on Twitter. In which case, the 2022 midterms are going to give us Kevin McCarthy, Speaker of the House (I threw up in my mouth a little typing that) and right back to the Mitch McConnell Obstruction Power Hour in the Senate. The Online Left (TM) will then blame the Democrats for not doing more to stop them. These are, of course, the same people who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton out of precious moral purity reasons in 2016, handed the election to Trump, and now like to complain when the Trump-stacked Supreme Court reliably churns out terrible decisions. Gee, it's almost like elections have consequences!!

Aside from my exasperation with the death-cult right-wing fascists and the Online Left (TM), I am sick and tired of how forty years of "trickle-down" Reaganomics has created a world where billionaires can just fly to space for the fun of it, while the rest of America (and the world) is even more sick, poor, overheated, economically deprived, and unable to survive the biggest public health crisis in a century, even if half the elected leadership wasn't actively trying to sabotage it. Did you know that half of American workers can't even afford a one-bedroom apartment? Plus the obvious scandal that is race relations, health care, paid leave, the education system (or lack thereof), etc etc. I'm so tired of this America Is The Greatest Country in the World mindless jingoistic catchphrasing. We are an empire in the late stages of collapse and it's not going to be pretty for anyone. We have been poisoned on sociopathic-libertarian-selfishness-disguised-as-Freedom ideology for so long that that's all there is left. We have become a country of idiots who believe everything their idiot friends post on social media, but in a very real sense, it's not directly those individuals' fault. How could they, when they have been very deliberately cultivated into that mindset and stripped of critical thinking skills, to serve a noxious combination of money, power, and ideology?

I am tired of the fact that I have become so drained of empathy that when I see news about more people who refused to get the vaccine predictably dying of COVID, my reaction is "eh, whatever, they kind of deserved it." I KNOW that is not a good mindset to have, and I am doing my best to maintain my personal attempts to be kind to those I meet and to do my small part to make the world better. I know these are human beings who believed what they were told by people that they (for whatever reason) thought knew better than them, and that they are part of someone's family, they had loved ones, etc. But I just can't summon up the will to give a single damn about them (I'm keeping a bingo card of right-wing anti-vax radio hosts who die of COVID and every time it's like, "Alexa, play Another One Bites The Dust.") The course that the pandemic took in 21st-century America was not preordained or inevitable. It was (and continues to be) drastically mismanaged for cynical political reasons, and the legacy of the Former Guy continues to poison any attempts to bring it under control or convince people to get a goddamn vaccine. We now have over 100,000 patients hospitalized with COVID across the country -- more than last summer, when the vaccines weren't available.

I have been open about my fury about the devaluation of the humanities and other critical thinking skills, about the fact that as an academic in this field, my chances of getting a full-time job for which I have trained extensively and acquired a specialist PhD are... very low. I am tired of the fact that Americans have been encouraged to believe whatever bullshit they fucking please, regardless of whether it is remotely true, and told that any attempt to correct them is "anti-freedom." I am tired of how little the education system functions in a useful way at all -- not necessarily due to the fault of teachers, who have to work with what they're given, and who are basically heroes struggling stubbornly along in a profession that actively hates them, but because of relentless under-funding, political interference, and furious attempts, as discussed above, to keep white America safely in the dark about its actual history. I am tired of the fact that grade school education basically relies on passing the right standardized tests, the end. I am tired of the implication that the truth is too scary or "un-American" to handle. I am tired. Tired.

I know as well that "America" is not synonymous in all cases with "capitalist imperialist white-supremacist corporate death cult." This is still the most diverse country in the world. "America" is not just rich white middle-aged Republicans. "America" involves a ton of people of color, women, LGBTQ people, Muslims, Jews, Christians of good will (I have a whole other rant on how American Christianity as a whole has yielded all pretense of being any sort of a principled moral opposition), white allies, etc etc. all trying to make a better world. The blue, highly vaccinated, Biden-winning states and counties are leading the economic recovery and enacting all kinds of progressive-wishlist dream policies. We DID get rid of the Orange One via the electoral process and avert fascism at the ballot box, which is almost unheard-of, historically speaking. But because, as also discussed above, certain elements of the Democratic electorate need to fall in love with a candidate every single time or threaten to withhold their vote to punish the rest of the country for not being Progressive Enough, these gains are constantly fragile and at risk of being undone in the next electoral cycle. Yes, the existing system is a crock of shit. But it's what we've got right now, and the other alternative is open fascism, which we all got a terrifying taste of over the last four years. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back.

So... I don't know. I don't know if that stacks up to hate. I do hate almost everything about what this country currently is, structurally speaking, but I recognize that is not identical with the many people who still live here and are trying to do their best, including my friends, family, and myself. I am exhausted by the fact that as an older millennial, I am expected to survive multiple cataclysmic economic crashes, a planet that is literally boiling alive, a barely functional political system run on black cash, lies, and xenophobia, a total lack of critical thinking skills, renewed assaults on women/queer people/POC/etc, and somehow feel like I'm confident or prepared for the future. Not all these problems are only America's fault alone. The West as a whole bears huge responsibility for the current clusterfuck that the world is in, for many reasons, and so do some non-Western countries. But there is no denying that many of these problems have ultimate American roots. See how the ongoing fad for right-wing authoritarian strongmen around the world has them modeling themselves openly on Trump (like Brazil's lunatic president, Jair Bolsonaro, who talks all the time about how Trump is his political role model). See what's going on in Afghanistan right now. Etc. etc.

Anyway. I am very, very tired. There you have it.

[fruggo]

I’m not gonna lie this would be the first time I requested something so if I do something wrong I’m really sorry,

Can I request Quentin, Leon, Steve, and Frank meeting a female reader who, before the entity took her, had already faced off her own killer?

And this made her kinda tough? Like she knows what she’s doing

oh my gosh thank you so much!! this is my first ever request to fulfill so we’re in this together :DD seriously i really appreciate you!

i decided to do a headcanon kind of format for this, i hope that’s okay! also these are my absolute favorite boys aaahhh this is so fun for a first request

the boys x tough f!reader (part 1) (part 2)

warnings: swearing, reader kicks frank in the shins

word count: ~700-1k each (sorry if it’s too long…i kind of got really excited and uhhh maybe i got carried away,, yeah. sorry)

(also i'll be honest quentin's is not my best. that was the one that got eaten by the tumblr abyss and i had to write all over again, and it just didn't come out the same way that i wanted it to at first :( i did the other boys hoping i'd get some inspiration to fix it afterwards, but i got kind of stuck. so it's not my favorite, but i hope you like it okay! i want to write better stuff for quentin in the future, he is my favorite sleepy boy <3)

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

when you arrived in the realm, everyone thought you would be the same as the others—frightened, confused, and overwhelmed. but you took this nightmarish challenge in stride, adapting to your surroundings quickly and learning far faster than anybody else had.

your past experiences had made you independent and sometimes distrustful, so once you had the gist of things, you didn’t need (or want) anybody to tell you what to do. and nobody was inclined to, either—your instincts naturally told you what to do and when.

the first time you met quentin was a little awkward, i wont lie. you were wary of speaking to the other survivors; you weren’t going to let yourself get hurt again.

it was the beginning of a trial. the nurse’s fatigued shrills could be heard all the way from the edge of the wrecker’s yard, but you immediately started work on a generator, unafraid. a few minutes passed, when soft footsteps indicated someone’s approach. it was quentin—he started to work on the wires without hesitation.

you were a little surprised, only because the other survivors usually left you to your own devices. you got the impression that maybe they were intimidated by you, which you didn’t particularly mind. but you wouldn’t particularly mind some company now and then, either.

it was comfortably silent for a while, before quentin spoke up.

“what’s your name?” he asked, gaze still focused on the wires.

hesitating a little, you told him. then you said, “and you’re quentin, right?” you already knew most everybody’s name just from observation.

“that i am,” he replied.

then it was quiet for a while.

very quiet.

well, what were you supposed to say now?

the silence was deafening and very, very uncomfortable to you. normally you were okay with a quiet atmosphere, but it was the kind of silence that buzzed in your ears, chewed at your stomach, filled the area as if it were something solid. man, what were you supposed to say—

it was then that you realized poor quentin had fallen asleep, his face smooshed onto the generator. his cheek was now covered in grease and grime.

it made you smile—only a little. you finished repairing the generator on your own, causing quentin to wake with a start and bang his head on the pole protruding from the machine. he swore like a sailor until he realized where he was, smiling sheepishly.

“sorry, i wanted you to have your nap. you looked really tired,” you said. you also couldn’t stop admiring the dark grease on his face—it was really quite funny. and no, you weren’t going to say anything about it. it could stay there a little longer.

you spent the rest of the trial running the nurse around the whole wrecker’s yard, only suffering one injury until the end. quentin had no idea how you had been here for such little time and already knew how to outplay the nurse, one of the most difficult killers to survive against. he still didn’t know how to do it well himself, so he was thankful for you.

however, once the exit gates were opened, you found yourself in a bad spot. the nurse had caught you in an empty clearing with nowhere to hide or predict her moves, and she downed you instantly. quentin cringed hearing your agonized scream as you were hooked.

there was no way you were dying on his watch. once he was sure the nurse was gone, he gently lifted you from the hook, pulling out his medical kit to begin patching up your shoulder.

despite the pain, you had enough energy to smile at him and say, “thanks, nap boy.”

quentin feigned offense with a wry grin, pulling out some gauze. “is that all i’m going to be to you? nap boy?”

you hummed, pretending to be deep in thought. “maybe you won’t be if you get me out of here.”

“that won’t be a problem," he smiled, quirking an eyebrow.

“show me the gates and then we’ll talk, nap boy.”

from then on, quentin became your go-to source for supplies and general comfort. you weren't scared of this place, but it was nice to know you had somebody who would really be there for you.

he would often fall asleep on your shoulder at the campfire--he really was a nap boy, and you would never let him live that down.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘

leon could not tear his eyes away from you the first time you arrived in the realm. your presence was strong; he could tell you weren’t one to back away from a fight.

most of the survivors had been (rightly) confused and disoriented when they popped into the realm, but you tried to accept it quickly. you didn’t like it, in fact all you wanted was just to go home, but you came to terms with it and jumped into trials headfirst like an insane person.

that was the courageous part about you—maybe you were scared, but you did scary shit anyways. in fact, you did scary shit to spite the fear, to prove to yourself that you were strong enough to overcome it.

and leon couldn’t lie, that was cool as hell.

you had tunnel vision and didn’t pay much notice to the other survivors; you were too focused on learning about this place and getting out of trials. having gone through some real shit, being here hardly came as a surprise to you. if you were going to be here forever, what was the point in mourning? might as well just accept it and try your hardest to survive. maybe someday this sick game would end, but for now, you were prepared to fight for your life and that’s all you could really focus on.

your first trial was not the best. even though you were resourceful, you didn’t know what the objective was yet, so you weren’t sure where to start other than analyzing your surroundings. luckily for you, leon kennedy was one of your teammates.

after being downed immediately by bubba’s chainsaw and tossed onto a hook, you were amazingly resilient to the pain. leon was the one to lift you from the hook, and he took out his medkit to help patch your wound, but you flinched away from him before he could touch you.

he was puzzled. “what’s wrong?” he asked. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he wanted to help you.

you hesitated and looked him over before mumbling, “i’m fine.” and you tried to stand on your own, beginning to limp away. you didn’t want or need anyone’s help.

leon sighed, following after you. “let me help, that must hurt a lot.”

“i told you, cop, i’m fine. i don’t want your help, okay?”

leon opened his mouth to insist, but decided against it. if you didn’t want his help, then he shouldn’t butt in. that wouldn’t keep him from watching over you, though.

but then leon called after you (perhaps a little smugly), “do you even know what you’re supposed to do?”

begrudgingly, you stopped walking. no, you didn’t know what to do. “i’ll figure it out,” you said over your shoulder. and you would; you had been through enough to survive any situation thrown at you.

but maybe one pointer couldn’t hurt.

“do a generator,” he told you, giving you a cheeky grin when you turned around to look at him. he was lucky he was cute.

the first part of the trial had been rough, but after that first hook you were doing a lot better. you managed to find your own medkit from a chest, and you learned how to fix a few generators. you found it came pretty naturally, and were satisfied that you hadn’t needed anyone’s help (except leon’s. but you didn’t have to admit that yet). when the killer came near, you skillfully avoided him and stayed hidden as much as you could.

you were also pretending that you didn't notice leon hovering near you. he was not very good at being subtle; he was obviously trying to make sure you didn't get hurt. it was cute. you didn't want to ruin his fun, so you didn't say anything about it.

it wasn’t long before the gates were powered and in the process of being opened. you saw a red glowing light in the distance, and assumed that must be your destination. you put all of your remaining energy into sprinting to the exit, adrenaline pumping through your body.

but then there was a heartbeat. a heartbeat so loud it filled your head, splitting your concentration. it wasn’t your own heartbeat--it was the killer’s.

the sound of the cannibal’s chainsaw roared in your ears and pain tore through your body; you collapsed to the ground with a cry of agony. shit, that really hurt, and you weren't sure you could ever get used to it. eternity sure seemed a lot longer than you had first anticipated. would you really be here forever? doing this over and over?

biting your lip until it bled, you tried to crawl towards the gate, dragging the lower half of your body with much difficulty. it was no use, though--you hardly got anywhere, and you could already feel the killer picking you up. just like that, you were going to die? you had been so close..

but as you were being placed on bubba’s shoulder, you saw a flash of a police uniform and a blinding light, and before you knew it, you had been dropped to the ground, the exit gate looking awfully lovely and much more desirable than a meat hook. you gathered all of your strength and began limping forward, when suddenly you felt an arm firmly wrap around your waist and your own was placed around someone else’s shoulder.

leon. when you looked up at him, all he did was give you a calm smile, which you felt inclined to return. with him supporting you, the two of you made it safely to the exit and began the long traipse back to the campfire, where you would find yourself spending a lot of time together.

from then on, you always remained quite unfazed by the events of the entity’s realm—the only thing that ever made you feel weak was being around leon. he was just so cute :]

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍

you had never met someone so persistent in your life. from the moment the entity stole you here, steve harrington was after you, and there was next to nothing you could do about it. he sure was living up to his self-proclaimed role of babysitter.

you told him you were fine, that you didn’t need him following you around, but the asshole did it anyways.

“how cool do you think you are?” you asked him at some point, to which he simply shrugged with that stupid grin on his lips.

“i can take care of myself.” “i really don’t need you to baby me, steve.” “steve, if you don’t leave me alone i’m going to break your kneecaps.” these were all things that had come from your mouth multiple times recently. you were seriously thinking about that last one now.

you knew you could make it on your own, and you only wished he would give you a chance to prove that to him so he would leave you alone. but it was like he had attached himself to your hip, and for some reason the entity seemed to really enjoy putting you in trials with him. great.

he was a dumbass and a sweetheart, and you weren’t sure which one of those took higher priority. you knew he only meant well, but god, you wanted to be independent for once. why did he think he had to protect you so much? you arrived here after running for your fucking life, fighting off your long-time pursuer, and living in awful, ever-changing conditions. you had seen your closest friends die, right before your eyes. you didn’t need to be sheltered or coddled, but you couldn’t seem to make steve understand that, no matter how much you fought with him.

steve would literally throw himself in front of the killer for you. he clicked his flashlight in the killer’s face if they were after you, and he would swear and cuss until they chased him out of pure annoyance. it got him killed countless times, and you didn’t know whether to call him stupid or selfless. probably both.

eventually you decided to just copy him and see how it worked out. you weren’t scared, you had no reason to be. you wanted to show him you could be just as flashy as him.

as you arrived into a trial, steve right across from you (of course), you smiled to yourself. you had brought your best flashlight, and you were prepared to use it. the two of you began to work on a generator together, making light conversation as usual.

“if the killer comes here, hide. i’ll take him away.” “fuck you, steve harrington.” “sure, if you really want to.” “why don’t you ever leave me alone?” “it’s a mystery, isn’t it?” “i could punch you right now.” “but you won’t. i’m too good to look at.”

you know, the usual friendly stuff.

you purposefully connected the wrong wires, making the generator spark and sputter. “oops. oh no, the killer must be on their way,” you dead-panned. steve gave you an unamused look.

and indeed, only a few moments later, you heard the sound of the hillbilly and his chainsaw roaring in your direction. the two of you split up, and the killer’s weapon collided with the generator, making an awful screeching sound.

and that was when the chaos started.

steve began hollering and flicking his flashlight into the sky as usual, and after a moment’s hesitation, you did the same. steve looked at you in astonishment, pausing, but then he started again, even louder. you tried to outdo him.

“HEY BILLY! FUCK YOU!” you screamed, ignoring steve’s attempts to get you to stop. “COME AFTER ME, SHITHEAD!”

steve started actually yelling, just yelling, while you continued to swear meaninglessly. the poor hillbilly looked confused and overwhelmed, and eventually he couldn’t take the noise anymore--he just left, opting to find the other survivors while the two of you sorted out whatever it is you obviously had against each other.

it was dead silent now that the killer was gone, and you and steve were both out of breath. but as soon as you made eye contact, laughter bubbled up from your chest, causing you to collapse against the tree and slide to the ground. your voice was hoarse from all the screaming.

and then he was laughing too, stumbling over to plop down next to you, and your giggling started up a whole new round.

after the laughter died down, you stared at your hands, ignoring steve’s gaze on the side of your face until you couldn’t anymore.

“what?” you asked, finally looking at him. he was smiling all stupid again. “what?” you insisted, fighting off a grin of your own. you hated when he looked at you like that, because it made you want to smile back at him.

“nothing,” he said coyly, laughing again. you punched his shoulder playfully.

“c’mon harrington, when have you ever held your tongue before? spit it out.”

he nodded, that was true. so he said it. “i just like you, that’s all.”

oh. oh.

realization dawned upon your face. “is that why you always--”

“yes,” he interrupted you. “i thought it was obvious. man, you’re clueless sometimes.”

oh.

huh.

you guessed…maybe…steve harrington wasn’t that annoying. maybe.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍

to say you were feisty was an understatement. frank hated your guts at first because you were so good at evading him, which he would never admit. but the thing that made him really mad was that if he ever downed you, you would kick at him and try to trip him over, like actually bruise his shins. it hurt like hell.

this lead to his decision to constantly tunnel you, and he would laugh at you while you were on the hook, too. so you hated his guts just as much as he did yours. it was a mutual guts-hating situation.

your teammates always felt bad for you, but they also thought you were a badass and knew you could handle yourself. you hadn’t told anybody where you’d come from or what had happened to you, but they knew it was something interesting. there was a reason that nothing that happened here really got to you.

sometimes things escalated even further than shin-kicking. there was one time where frank had managed to grab the back of your shirt as you tried to vault a window, and as he pulled you closer to himself, you elbowed him in the neck and squirmed out of his grasp. while he stood stunned and lost for breath, you kicked the back of his locked knee so that he fell to the ground and bonked his forehead on the wall—the classic dead leg.

this was very funny to you.

not to him.

while you ran away, laughing to yourself, frank’s anger built and built. he was tired of letting you make a fool of him, and it was time to be serious about things.

he ignored you for the rest of the trial, forming a plan in his mind. there was something he needed to do after this, so he made sure to kill everybody else to please the entity—he couldn’t get caught up, it would derail his anger train. he also didn’t feel like getting kicked in the balls or some shit, so he let you out without a problem.

frank did some brooding at the ormond lodge before he was ready to go through with his plan. and his shins really, really hurt, so susie helped him ice them before he left.

the masked killer made his way to the survivor camp rather hastily. when he arrived, he saw you pacing around, deep in thought.

so he threw a rock at you.

it was just a pebble, really. maybe it could be considered a rather large pebble, but frank insisted in his mind that it was a pebble.

“ow, what the fuck!” you cursed, rubbing your sore shoulder and looking around to find the culprit. and then your eyes laid on him.

he looked so sultry standing there at the edge of the woods, arms crossed and mask smiling, you could almost laugh at him. he acted so serious, when really, he was just an angry and misbehaving twink.

you put on your best serious face, genuinely trying not to be amused by this, and strode over to the killer.

“what do you want?” you asked confidently, mirroring his body language and crossing your arms.

frank bristled at your approach, as if trying to make himself look bigger. he wished you were scared of him like everyone else, it would really make him feel better.

“i want a truce,” he said.

you almost burst into laughter at that. a truce? what the fuck for?

he said was willing to stop tunneling and camping you if you stopped beating the shit out of him with your sticky little hands. he didn’t say it like that, but you knew that was what he meant. you, a survivor, could beat up frank, a killer, and it upset him and his little ego :(

just to humor him, you agreed. and frank nodded.

“but,” you continued, raising your eyebrows, “you have to give me something else.”

he started to say “no, no way—“ but you interrupted him: “you’re asking me to stop fighting for myself and just give in when you catch me. i think i deserve something other than just not being tunnelled.”

frank glared at you under his mask, thankful that you couldn’t see. “okay. whatever. what do you want?”

“i want to see your face.” you thought this was a good choice, something you could lord over him forever. it was surely only a win for you. his face was something private, and you would be the only survivor to know.

of course you wanted to see his face, frank thought. everyone did; they wanted to find out if he was good-looking. which, according to him, he was. if you ever asked the other members of the legion, susie was the only one to actually respond. she felt obligated to compliment him as she was basically his sister. so she would say frank is handsome in a ruggedy, jess mariano kind of way. you wondered how she knew what gilmore girls was, since that came after her time, but susie would never give away her secret.

so with a sigh, frank agreed to let you see his face. he didn’t really care, all he wanted was to stop having bruises on his shins. it was kind of miserable, and the entity never did anything to help him.

when he said that you couldn’t do it here, and you asked why the fuck not, he said it was because some other survivor might see. you decided he had a fair point, so reluctantly you let him drag you all the way to ormond.

when he took off his mask, your first thought, whether you wanted it to be or not, was “wow! he really does look like jess mariano! but with tattoos! hot!”

you were lost for words. you didn’t really know what you were expecting, but you sure weren’t expecting him to be that attractive.

he could tell your thoughts from the look on your face.

this had been per your request, and you were planning on this being something you could hold over his head, but the situation had turned into something that he could hold over your head.

oh dear. frank morrison now held pretty boy privilege over you.

and soon you would find out that he was going to keep tunnelling you anyways.

listen i've been watching a lot of gilmore girls and i just get jess vibes from frank, except our boy is more of a twinky idk shdjfhsf i love this guy sm

[artzee-bee]

End of all things [1] | Chat Noir x witch!reader

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug (Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir)

Summary: Y/N had been Chat Noir’s friend and moral support for a long time now. Even though she had magical powers too, she never liked getting involved with akuma attacks, but now, as Hawkmoth’s gotten control of the miraculous of creation, she couldn’t stay indiferent anymore. She had to save her friend and Paris!

Genre: Mostly angst? A little fluff

Warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of death/dying

A/N: This was requested, but as I was writting it, it got very long and I’ve decided to post it in 2 parts. I’m not gonna post the request just now, so as to not spoil the rest of the story but Part 2 will be coming out on friday!!!

Part 2

~~~

Chat was pacing around the room, waiting for you to be done with your potion. You had heard from your parents that there had been a new akuma attack today, but as the news reported, the two parisian heros took care of the problem in no time. For this reason, Chat’s presence at your house felt unusual. Normally he would stop by when he needed to rant, when he was in need of comfort and reassurance but the fight today went well, so what could possibly be bothering him?

“Ok, I’m done” you said, screwing the cap on the little bottle and placing it on your shelf “Wanna talk?” you asked, to which Chat gave you a shy smile

“Yeah, a little”

You made your way to your bed, motioning for him to follow you. You got under your covers and passed him his favorite plushie, a cat to no one’s surprise

“So what’s up? Is it about the fight today?”

“Well no it’s more like a...personal problem?”

“Oh…”

“Claws out” in a rush of light and electricity, the infamous hero vanished before you, transforming into Adrien Agrest

“Well, what is it?” 

Adrien revealed his identity to you months ago. You first met him as Chat, but when you really got to know each other, he decided you needed to know all of him. Well, he needed you to know all of him.

You listened to him rant until way past midnight. Until you were both too tired to stand up straight, so you laid down in your bed, covers up to your necks, muffled stories told in between yawns. You listened carefully, giving him your full attention. He fidgeted with the collar of the stuffed toy and you used your magic to make 2 hot chocolates. Eventually, everything that needed to be said, was said. You offered Adrien to watch a movie, since that always cheered him up, but he refused

“It’s late and I have a photoshoot early in the morning. My makeup team will be angry with my dark circles anyways, better not make it worse” he joked

Adrien transformed back into Chat and you cast a safety spell on him, which you did every time he left your house late at night. He always teased you about being ‘too protective’, but deep down he found it sweet how much you cared and wanted to know that he would get home in one piece.

“Night Chat” you said, wrapping your arms around the hero

“Good night Y/N!”

The next few days went by quietly. You hadn’t run into Adrien at all, but you texted a bit back and forth. Sunday evening however, things took a toll for the worst. You turned on your tv, ready to catch up with your show when you heard Nadja Chamack’s voice doing the news report

“It seems as though Rena Rouge and Chat Noir are struggling to stay on their feet! They have taken shelter under a fallen bus, leaving Ladybug alone to defeat Hawkmoth'' your pulse skyrocketed. As you watched the screen you could see Chat and Rena off to the side, struggling to catch their breath. Rena seemed to be in pain while Chat was trying to help. Ladybug was using her yoyo the best she could in order to protect herself from the supervillain, who was wielding his cane like a sword over her head. The fight was clearly going in Hawkmoth's favour! You grabbed your jacket and ran out the front door and onto the empty streets of Paris, towards the Eiffel Tower, where the fight was taking place. 

People screamed at you from their balconies to go home, warning you about the fight and the danger you were putting your life in but you didn’t care. All you could think about was how they needed you. Chat needed you! Every late night talk and every inside joke shared between you two replaid in your head like a broken record. Behind Chat’s tough mask, his alter ego of hero and protector, was the fragile figure of Adrien Agreste. The young blonde boy who cried during romantic comedies, who liked to have his hair braided and forgot how to speak when someone complimented him. If you didn’t help, the heros would loose and he would most likely die! Alongside Ladybug and Rena who, even though you didn’t know their real identities, were still young girls. As you ran down the street, you heard kids crying inside one of the homes. You ran past but at the last second you heard Nadia’s voice coming from their tv

“Ladybug was akumatized”

You approached the Eiffel tower from the side, where you could see everything going on. In front of the tower, right next to Hawkmoth, stood Marinette Dupain-Cheng, dressed in a tight, dark red suit, darker than Ladybug’s. Black butterflies replaced the dots of the heroine's suit and the purple butterfly mask of Hawkmoth’s control was shining over her face. Marinette was Ladybug! She did, in fact, get akumatized. On the other side, you saw Rena and Chat, struggling to stay up right. They were obviously in a lot of pain and extremely tired, but Hawkmoth was merely mocking them.

“After all this time” Chat spoke up, but his breaths were shallow and rapid “I thought you’d know one thing about us! We don’t give up without a fight. Never will. Especially not against you” and with that, the two ran at each other.

“It doesn’t have to end like this, you know?” he said “We don’t have to fight to death. I wouldn’t want to have that on my conscience. All you have to do is give me your miraculouses willingly. The town will be safe, you will be safe! It’s the most heroic option you’ve got. You won’t be any good to Paris if you are dead”

You knew this was not just another fight between them. This was it. Either the heros won or everything they’ve worked for would be lost. Hawkmoth would win and get his hands on both miraculous and god knows what kind of destruction that would bring not only upon Paris, but the world. You focused all your energy in one spot in the air, right between where Chat and Hawkmoth were supposed to clash but before they could reach each other, you sent a wave of energy that blew both of them apart, like a bomb. Hawkmoth flew back into the Eiffel tower while Chat hit the pavement with a thud. Confused and certainly disturbed, both of them began looking around for an answer as to what happened when, finally, Hawkmoth’s eyes landed on yours.

“Aha, miss Y/L/N. What a spectacular honor to finally meet you!” you didn’t reply, instead you stood tall, maintaining eye contact

“I know a lot about you. Seen a lot. Felt a lot of your emotions. None of them can compare to the powers I’ll have with the two miraculouses. With Ladybug’s earrings and the guardian under my control, I’d say my mission here is almost over’’

“Y/N get back!’’ Chat screamed but you were too involved now to run. This was your fight too.

“It is time you give up Hawkmoth. Paris is not yours, neither are the miraculouses. We will destroy you, no matter what it takes!”

“Listen to yourself, kid! <<Destroy me>>? The most you can do is pull a rabbit out of your hat…” before he could finish his sentence, you snapped your fingers in his direction and instantly, the ground around beneath Hawkmoth and akumatized Marinette, fractured. From within the cracks, many tangled plants came out, encapsulating the 2 villains. You sprinted towards Chat and Rena, ignoring the signs of struggle coming from the prison of weeds.

 Alongside the two superheros, you hid inside a corner coffee shop, which was now empty.

“Y/N, you need to leave!! You are putting yourself in too much danger!” Rena told you, as she collapsed to the ground from exhaustion

“Stop with that already! I am here and I’m not going anywhere!”

“Yes you are!” Chat looked at you. His voice was calm and yet, his eyes were filled with disappointment “You are not a superhero. This is our job!”

“You need help”

“No we don’t!” Chat had never, in all your years of friendship, raised his voice at you, let alone yell “ You need to stay safe! You could die! Hawkmoth doesn’t care about anything if it helps him get what he wants! I am ready to take that risk. Rena is too” you both turned to the red headed hero, only to see her slowly nod “But I can’t allow you to take it”

“You can’t tell me what to do”

“I don’t want you to die!” he screamed again “I love you and I will never forgive myself if you don’t come out of this alive!”

Before you could say anything, you saw Hawkmoth and his minion, through the cafe window, cutting through the last of the plants and escaping your trap. You grabbed Chat’s arm and pulled him to the floor, from where you could not be seen

“We’re in this together now” you said in a stern voice, looking the blonde kid right in his eyes “Whether you like it or not '' this time, he simply nodded.

You stuffed your hands into the pocket of your jacket and pulled out 3 little bottles, containing a mate, green liquid. You had prepared one for each of the heros, now you’d only need two.

“Here, drink this!” You handed each of them one “Regeneration potion. Should put you back on your feet.” as soon as they finished drinking the brew, you could see color coming back to their faces

“Where’s Marinette’s akuma??” 

“Her necklace” replied Rena “It’s a gift from her kwami”

“Got it. You deal with Hawkmoth. I’ll bring Marinette back!”

Chat and Rena exited through the front door, grabbing Hawkmoth’s attention. He called out to Marinette to attack, but before she could take a single step in your direction, you had snuck up behind her. Using a simple invisibility spell, you managed to exit unnoticed behind the two heros. It finally felt like the fight had truly begun. From the corner of your eye you could see Chat and Rena doging Hawkmoth’s attacks while you, were doing your best to get your hands on the stupid necklace! Even though she couldn’t see you, Marinette seemed to almost always know what your next move was. She would expertly block all your attack and would keep you an arm’s length away at all times. Finally, you had enough and in one swift motion, you pinned her back to your chest, ripping the necklace away. A wave of black and purple took over the both of you and when it vanished, all you were left with was a half unconscious Marinette in your arms. You dropped her to the ground slowly as she was coming back to her senses. You wanted to talk to her but your thoughts were driven away as you heard Chat scream bloody murder.

On the opposite side of the platza, you saw Hawkmoth rip Chat’s ring off his finger, forcing him to detransform. The exhausted figure of Adrien Agreste fell to the ground with a thud. Hawkmoth had, indeed, gotten his hand on both the miraculouses.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 328: Pandora’s Box of Discourse

Previously on BnHA: DEKU TOOK A BATH.

Today on BnHA: 

Also Naomasa grew a beard. Goddamn. 

please let this be a cool chapter that plays nice with my ADHD lol

(ETA: lol I feel guilty because a lot of people hated this chapter, but I’m just happy there was a lot of stuff to make fun of, and also that I have another week to work on my backlog of meta posts since the kids were MIA.)

around one month ago?? ah, okay, so we’re gonna find out what was in that Tartarus security file huh

I love that they just randomly set the place on fire

was it necessary to do this in order to escape? no. was it a good idea to set the island they were occupying on fire while they were in the midst of still occupying it? uh. was it cinematic as fuck? fuck yeah

wow it’s a pervert!!

that’s so great that the villains set loose this fine fellow who I’m sure is definitely not a serial rapist. truly the LoV is so noble and misunderstood. they’re just trying to free society from its chains people

oh my god??!

SHANKED!!! oh my god I cheered for Stain before I realized what I was doing. time to have an identity crisis I guess

so he’s all “hey what’s going on.” which, while a respectable question, is something I personally would have waited to ask until I had put a bit of distance between myself and the fiery murder island. but that’s just my personal preference

Stain you really are tenacious I’ll give you that

“what’s the point of escaping prison if you’re not gonna be smart about it” well shit. anyways yeah you’re dead right, society is in the process of collapsing and the outside world is in total chaos, good call there

oh shit

I mean it’s not like we really expecting anything otherwise, but still. fucking brutal. I feel like these guys’ fates were decided the minute that one guy called AFO “scum” back in chapter 94. AFO is unmatched at getting long-term revenge

??

ahh, was it the security footage??

fdsdfk he’s still alive??

and he’s immediately launching into an inappropriately theatrical monologue even as the darkness closes in on him fdlfksjdlk. you know, was it ever confirmed that the other guy back in chapter 297 was Seiji’s dad? I’m just saying

very impressed that he’s still coherent enough to weigh the pros and cons before making the decision to gamble on giving this info to Stain, who at the very least has his own moral code and isn’t allied with AFO. it was definitely still a risk, but as we now know it was also the right call

what a weird alliance. so Stain tells him that he’ll give it to a just person, and the guy is all,

okay for real though I’m gonna need someone to run a DNA test on this guy. maybe it was some kind of cuckold situation?? the other guy had the family resemblance, but this guy absolutely 100% raised Shishikura Seiji and you are not going to convince me otherwise

anyway, so Stain is all,

PRISON GUARD: “???? ??????? what the hell. what the fuck does that fucking mean. I’m dying here, jesus christ, whatever man fuck you”

(ETA: I kind of feel like this might have been Stain’s last appearance in the manga, given all the fanfare. there’s not really much else he can do for the story at this point, and he seems to have gotten all the character development Horikoshi was planning on giving him. so if this really is it, hasta la vista and good riddance I guess.)

DWLFDKSLDK MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE

(ETA: I feel like this is meant to be evocative of that Sermon on the Mount painting, but in a really fucked up way lol.)

if it were me stumbling upon this scene I would just shake my head and walk right back into the flaming building. not getting involved in that mess. sorry not sorry. I’ll take my chances with the fire, especially given that it’s half-assed neutered BnHA fire lol

blah blah blah and so he decided to pass the info on to All Might -- HOT DAMN, HOLY SHIT

NAOMASA HOLY SHIT. THE APOCALYPSE LOOKS GOOD ON YOU, BOY

“I really like that facial scruff thing Aizawa’s got going on, I think I’m gonna get in on that” yes sir. “also thinking of ditching the tie in favor of the bulletproof vest look. also thinking of getting totally fucking jacked.” good lord. except I’m pretty sure that’s just body armor, but also I don’t care. anyway I should probably stop staring and actually read the fucking speech bubbles here lol

“All Might first handed this information over to Nao, and then went to see Deku, and then came back to Nao” thanks for that tidy little summary Horikoshi. we are capable of piecing events together in sequential order, I just want you to know that. but thank you

“so has Deku finally gotten a bath? also, sucks that Stain saved the day, but what are you gonna do” Nao I missed you so fucking much and didn’t even realize. how am I just now realizing that you are the perfect man

for a second I was gonna ask why Tartarus’s security systems would be cut off from the outside world, and then I remembered that’s a basic security control, and then I actually got impressed by how sensible that is. like, it’s been a while since I could genuinely say that the good guys (excluding class 1-A) did something smart. not that it helped them much in the end, but still

anyway so they’re talking about how AFO was able to coordinate the attack by communicating between his horcrux self on the outside and his ugly peanut-faced self on the inside

huh

okay you have my attention. I am taking notes here lol please continue

ah okay so he says that prior to Jakku, the transfer of information between him and his Vestige self was only one-way. but post-Jakku when Deku was in the hospital, he was able to tell what was happening inside the OFA Radical Lisa Frank Dead People Book Club Realm when he touched him. I feel like we established that before, actually. but he didn’t talk about how it actually felt, though

boy we already know this lol. yes AFO can talk with his horcrux self. and he can also communicate with his little bro in OFA too, let’s talk about that sometime why don’t we. what exactly does that imply, based on the rules we’ve established here

my god I cannot get over Naomasa and his fucking facial hair

no wonder All Might was in such a hurry to leave Deku and get back here

like I have no idea what this radio waves nonsense is but my god, people

that jawline. also so it’s a quirk, I see. except last I checked Deku didn’t have a radio waves quirk, so that doesn’t really explain his connection to AFO. but whatever, hopefully we’re at least getting closer to some kind of reveal here

(ETA: since I sometimes forget that other people’s lives don’t revolve around my theory posts, here are the two relevant links if you by chance want to know my thoughts about this.

Hagakure is still The U.A. Traitor™ regardless of whether Deku is passing information on to AFO through his psychic link, which he almost certainly is.

speaking of said psychic link, Deku is a horcrux.

just posting these now, because whenever trippy OFA stuff happens I tend to get an influx of theory asks. so hopefully this will be a bit of a time saver lol.)

-- wait, what

THAT’S what the recording was??!? holy SHIT. I genuinely was not expecting that. y’all wiretapped his fucking telepathy. fucking quirks, man. wild

AND THEY USED THAT POWER TO DETERMINE WHAT WE ALREADY KNEW, HUZZAH. GOOD SHOW

-- oh shit wait lol, except I forgot we’re not talking about 38 days from the present, we’re talking about 38 days from the date the conversation was recorded. heh. um

yeah that’s the face I would make too if All Fucking Might just casually told me we had eight days left until the end times

oh, pardon me. three fucking days

r.i.p. anyone who thought we were going to have another band arc sob. I sure hope Deku is enjoying that nap

(ETA: I realize people were hoping for a longer rest period here, but given that the man warned us all the way back in chapter 306 that we were entering the final act, you can’t really blame him too much when that turns out to be true. anyway but I do recognize that we’ve reached the point in the story where this kind of discourse is going to become a weekly occurrence, simply because there’s no possible way for Horikoshi’s actual endgame to line up perfectly with the variable headcanons of millions of fans, all of whom have wildly differing and in many cases contradictory expectations which can’t possibly all be fulfilled. anyway, so I’m already bracing myself for that lol. this coming year is going to be a wild ride.)

damn, U.A. out here looking like the motherfucking United Nations

-- is this U.A.?? I actually just realized, U.A. is four interconnected buildings, not two. wait holy shit is this Shiketsu?

wait holy SHIT

based on the overwhelmingly powerful vibes of bureaucratic incompetence, I’m thinking this really is the (future) U.N., or whatever organization it is that deals with international hero stuff

“just let them handle it themselves I’m sure they’ll be fine” yeah okay, thanks guys. appreciate it

wait oh shit did he say that it’s not just Japan?

soooo, what you’re telling me is that AFO is this close to bringing about the end of not just Japan, but the entire world, and you guys don’t think it’s a good idea to help the Japanese heroes stop him? so, genuine follow-up question: are you guys already planning your rich people exodus into space a la Wall-E, and that’s why you don’t give a fuck?? like, what??

omg international heroes

these guys are from World Hoodie Mission, right? is this Horikoshi’s way of reminding me to buy tickets

(ETA: and it worked too lol.)

WHO??? WHAT???

don’t tell me you’re introducing yet another badass new female character for me to fall in love with only to watch as you dismember them and/or blow them up, Horikoshi. I’m getting tired of playing this game my dude. don’t lie and tell me this time will be different. we’re not doing this again goddammit

noooooooooooooooooooo

god fucking dammit lmao. [sighs and rips the previous paragraph into shreds]

on behalf of Americans I apologize for our superheroes always being Like This

I also apologize because I love her already and I’m gonna be shameless about it. so fucking shameless you guys

is her fucking hair red white and blue. it is, isn’t it

this is the volume cliffhanger, 100% lol. it will take every ounce of Horikoshi’s willpower not to put her on the volume cover. he’ll have to settle for the spine or the inner cover this time because Deku VS his class 1-a superpals takes precedence. but it will be a close thing let me tell you

tbh it’s that smile that does it for me. she’s definitely All Might’s protege. get out there and show them how it’s done girl. and maybe call Salaam and BRD and see if you can’t convince them to play hooky from their governments as well. why not. world’s ending in three days you guys. “sorry, I’m busy this weekend” ain’t gonna cut it lol

so while I am not fully caught up with Vigilantes, I have read far enough to know that there’s an American hero named Captain Celebrity whose superpower from what I recall is being a humongous douchebag. and while I haven’t read far enough to know what happens to this guy, I can’t say I’m very disappointed to learn that he’s no longer the number one hero in the U.S. (actually, didn’t they kick him out and that’s why he moved to Japan to begin with?). anyway, so my thanks to Horikoshi for having a marginally higher opinion of Americans than Furuhashi, even though we have definitely not done anything to warrant said opinion lately, and you may have inadvertently opened the door to a pandora’s box of discourse lmao

(ETA: lol I went into the tags and they don’t disappoint. “why is she dressed like a flag” because she’s an homage to Captain America and Major Victory and literally every other character on this list. again, I apologize for fictional American superheroes being Like This. “oh boy another thicc waifu to make the fanboys happy” look, tumblr fandom never seems to have a problem thirsting over Dabi or Tomura or Aizawa or Nao, lol, I’m just saying. “where is Captain Celebrity” idk, probably murdered by the exploding bee cartel, let’s just be grateful for our good fortune and try not to Beetlejuice the man.)

anyway, so let’s see if Horikoshi’s recent character development with regards to making Mineta not terrible anymore will apply to other aspects of his writing as well. I know I was making light of discourse just now, but I do think the complaints about him introducing yet another new character at the 11th hour to be cannon fodder in the final battle are absolutely valid. and again, it wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t keep maiming/killing off his female characters one by one instead of developing them and letting them kick ass long-term. but that said, I will never complain about Horikoshi adding another female character to the series, regardless of how clumsy the attempt may be. go ahead and pander away, just give us more girl power lol

anyway so we’ll see how it goes, but I think I’m gonna be optimistic and let myself hope once again, even though I’m probably gonna regret it lol. it is what it is. she is standing on an airplane just chilling for fuck’s sake. I’m only human. anyway fingers crossed

[nocturnalazura]

Surprise! Plans Change!

Dabi x F!Reader Part 4

Warnings: explicit language, Pregnancy

Summary: This was not part of your plan, this was not part of your plan at all. Maybe this will be the happy little change that you need. Maybe you’ll just have to say goodbye. (I'm so sorry this is a shit summary)

Wc:3K

Series Masterlist 🌙 Part 3 🌙

Your hands press into cold porcelain as you empty the contents of your stomach into the bowl. This is the third time today that you’ve ended up here, kneeling on the cold tile floor and spilling just about everything you’ve eaten. Wiping your mouth, you flush the toilet and fall back onto your butt and lean back against the wall. Your mind races with the possibilities of what’s happening to you when a small thought crosses your mind. An immediate sense of fear washes over you as you really think about it.

“Son of a bitch. Son of a fucking bitch.” You curse, dropping your head in between your knees. Your stomach twists with nerves as you try and do the math for your last period. “Fuck me. God fucking dammit!”

“The fuck are you cursing about in there?!” Dabi calls, slamming his hand against the door.

“Nothing - just fuck off!”

“You fuck off!”

Rolling your eyes, you stay silent for a moment, listening to him mutter soft curses as his footsteps slowly lead away from the door. Just as everything on the other side of the door goes silent, your stomach lurches violently and you find yourself crouched over the toilet again. Your body trembles as you heave and cough once more. Flushing the toilet again with a groan, you move to the sink and brush your teeth.

“You fucking dying or something?” Dabi questions when you come back to your room.

“No. Shut up. I’m fine.”

“Doll, I have heard you hurl like 10 times in the past two days.”

“It’s fine. I think I just have food poisoning or something.”

“Whatever. Just don’t fucking die on me.”

“I’m not dying, but I am tired. Can we not go out tonight?” You ask, throwing yourself back onto the bed.

“Fine. Don’t feel like walking around with you gagging constantly anyway.”

“Nice, Touya, very nice. I can’t help it.”

Rolling his eyes, he collapses next to you and looks over you. “Shut up - you’re such a brat sometimes. I’m staying here with you, aren’t I? Pick a movie to watch before I decide to leave you here alone.”

Smacking him in the chest, you reach over for the little remote and click through different titles. Dabi, like usual, shoots down all of your movie choices until you throw the remote over to him and let him pick. Snorting as he picks some slasher flick, you pull a pillow over to lay on your stomach so you can fully face the screen. Once you're settled, one of Dabi’s hands finds its way to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh appreciatively. His hand stays there throughout the entirety of the movie, occasionally smacking at it to watch it bounce until you kick him in the ribs with a little glare over your shoulder. The two of you spend the rest of the night kicking and poking at one another as movies play in the background.

After a few more days of rather unpleasant puking, you give in to the fact that you need to confirm your suspicions finally.

“Hey, I’ll be back. I’m gonna go to that little 24 hour store on the corner. You want anything?” You ask Dabi.

“Yeah, just grab some shit you know I’ll eat.” He answers. “You know what? Fuck it - I’m gonna go with you. I don’t feel like sitting around here.”

“You’re gonna come with me?” You question, face paling slightly. “You really don’t have to. I'll be fine and you aren’t even going in with me.”

“Can’t I just want to get out of here? The hell's your problem with me wanting to go with you?”

“Nothing. Sorry, I’m just tired; let's go.”

Giving you a weird look, he shakes his head but still grabs his coat and boots and follows you out of the hideout. Tossing his arm around your shoulder, he pulls you into his side while you two walk through the calm night air to get to the little store around the corner. Letting go of you, he kisses you quickly before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with the tip of his finger. Pulling the hood of your jacket up, you walk into the store and grab a basket. Pacing the aisles, you slowly fill your little basket with random snacks for the two of you before walking around to the little family planning aisle. Swallowing harshly, you look over the different items for your eyes to finally land on the pregnancy tests. With a shaking hand, you grab two little boxes and toss them into your basket and head up front to check out.

“Um, can, can you put the tests in a separate bag, please?” You ask the cashier timidly. Giving you a small nod, they bag the rest of your items and wait for you to pay before handing everything over to you. “Um, thanks. Have a good night.”

Cramming the bag with the tests in your jacket pocket, you head back out and turn into the little alleyway next to the store. Dabi looks over at you and pushes off of the wall to take one of the bags from you before leading you back to the hideout. Like you suspected the moment you two step back into your room, he’s digging through the bags to find something to rip into. Watching him carefully, you pull your jacket off and set it on the dresser. You spend the rest of the evening nervously watching him and dodging his questions of why you’re being so weird all of a sudden.

“Alright, seriously, the fuck is up with you? You flinch every time I move. I may be a little rough with you but stop acting like I beat you,” growls Dabi when you jolt forward as he gets off the bed. “I just gotta piss so calm your shit.”

“Sorry, sorry, I have weird anxiety going on right now. I also didn’t need to know what you were doing.”

Rolling his eyes at your weird behavior, he disappears for a bit leaving you to stare at your jacket and contemplate the items tucked away inside of it. Sighing, you drag your hands down your face at what you know the tests are more than likely going to say. Closing your eyes as your stomach twists again as you start to think too much about the tests, you only hear Dabi walk back in. Opening your eyes, you look up at him and feel your stomach twist further as you try to think of how he’ll react. ‘He’s going to leave’ is all your brain can supply.

Dabi gives you another weird look as he throws himself down onto the bed next to you. The two of you click through random movies until he passes out next to you halfway through the second movie. Watching him carefully, you slowly slide yourself off the bed and grab your jacket as you slip out of the room and pad down the hallway. Flipping on the bathroom light, you lock the door behind you and pull out one of the boxes. Taking a deep breath, you rip into the box and read over the instructions before throwing the box to the side and taking the test. Setting the test on the counter, you sink to the floor as you set a timer on your phone and wait.

The minutes tick by slowly as you let your head sink between your knees. On the floor next to you, your phone starts buzzing alerting you that the time is up. Turning the timer off, you stand up and take a step towards the counter. Picking up the little piece of plastic, you turn it over in your hands a few times before you finally take a breath and look down at it. All of the air is suddenly sucked out of your lungs as you stare down at two little lines.

Tears slowly start to fall as you stumble back and let yourself slide down the wall. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You can almost hear your heart pounding in your ears as you stare at the blurry image of a positive pregnancy test. Everything within you feels off and confusing, but somewhere deep in you, there’s a little bubble of happiness. You sit on the bathroom floor for almost an hour, even taking a second test just to be sure, before you finally wash your face and shove the tests back in your jacket and go back to the room. Sighing at Dabi’s sleeping form, you quickly shove the jacket and tests in the bottom drawer of your dresser before climbing into bed with him and curling up into his side to try and sleep.

Over the course of the next month, you make a doctor's appointment and consider all of the options you have. You heavily weigh the options of either not having it or giving it up, but every time those thoughts cross your mind, you can’t help a small pange of sadness that shoots through your body. However, your doctor's appointment is what solidifies what you really want.

“Alright and here is your baby’s heartbeat!” The doctor smiles while she points at the little screen. The loud thumping of its heartbeat fills the room and, before you know it, you’re crying. Tears of pure happiness run down your face at the sound. “Everything looks and sounds amazing so far! From what we can see, you’re about 8 weeks along!”

From the moment you walk out of the doctors office, your mind is racing as you try to figure out what the fuck to do now. Your shitty little apartment isn’t big enough for you and a baby and you can’t raise a baby at the hideout. And, then, there’s the whole Dabi issue; he’s going to ghost you, you already know it. He doesn't have a life for kids. You don’t even think he wants them. Touching your necklace, you sigh at the fact you may have to just say goodbye to him. You could do this alone. Sure, it’ll be hard but you can find a little apartment for the two of you, find a daycare and go back to nursing professionally or back to what you were doing before the league.

The next month and a half is filled with doing as much as you can without acting suspicious. You backed out of your old lease and secured a new, slightly nicer one with two bedrooms in a slightly better part of the city. Simple necessities have been moved in so you actually have some basic furniture in there. The most stressful part of everything is hoping that Dabi doesn’t notice anything change about you. For once, you’re extremely grateful for the league being busy, as it provides the perfect cover for you to disappear, but it also keeps him occupied.

“Y/n! You’ve been acting odd lately!” Toga suddenly comments when it’s just the two of you.

“Oh, have I? Sorry.” You say a little sheepishly.

“Is it because Dabi’s been busy? You always get a little weird when he’s busy or disappears.” “Yeah, sorry, I just haven’t spent much time with him lately.” You’ve never been so thankful for Toga’s interest in the two of you.

“So are you finally his girlfriend? He’s never in his own room anymore and, the last time I was in yours, it seemed like all of his stuff is in there.”

“You know you’re kind of nosey?” You joke and laugh when she gives you a grin. “I don’t know, I’m his. . . something. I don’t know what, but something.”

“Well, that’s no fun.”

“You’re telling me. Anyway, I gotta go. I told a friend I’d meet them. Tell him I’ll be back later if you see him?”

“Can do! Have fun!” She shouts, giving you an unsettling grin that's very Toga.

Shaking your head with a little smile, you head out and start the walk to the shop a few blocks away. Pushing open the door, you quietly walk over to the little counter and set down your new apartment key before asking the clerk to make a single copy of it. You pace around the little store until he hands back the keys with a little smile and wishes you a good day. Shoving your own key in your pocket, you look over the new one as you walk to your new home. Standing in front of the new door, you carefully unlock it with the copy, slightly smiling when the lock clicks open easily. Walking in, you look around the half furnished apartment and feel your heart clench at what you’re about to do. You spend the next couple of hours making sure everything is ready for you to come home to later this evening and, then, set to work on what you actually came to do.

Tearing out a scrap of paper, you scribble your address before digging in a night stand for something else. Shoving them both into your back pocket, your head back to the hideout. Everything seems calm like just before a storm is about to hit. Almost like everything knows what you’re about to do and how it’s going to end. Stepping into the hideout just as the sun starts to set, you’re a little surprised but, also, relieved to find it empty.

Anxiety courses through your body as you pace around the room, twiddling your thumbs. At this point, you’re not sure if it’s nausea or anxiety or even a mixture of both that makes your head spin at what you’re about to do. The little key in your back pocket feels like it’s burning into you through the material of your jeans. Maybe this is a bad idea, maybe you’re probably better off just disappearing? Biting into your lip, you turn to leave when Dabi pushes the door open giving a little smirk when he sees you standing there.

“Hey, doll.” He drawls, walking over to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you to him.

“Hi,” You squeak, fidgeting in his arms slighlty.

“The fucks up with you?”

“Nothing? Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“You’re basically fucking vibrating in my arms and I didn’t do shit to cause it. So the fucks up?”

“Nothing. I’m, I’m totally fine.”

“Doll.”

“Dabi.”

“Y/n.” The sudden use of your actual name mixed with the way his hand squeezes your side in warning has every part of you freezing as you look up at him. You just have to rip the bandaid off.

“M’ pregnant.” You whisper. His face scrunches in confusion as you look up at him.

“Hah?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Is it mine?”

The moment the last word leaves his mouth, you’re slapping at his chest and pushing him away from you.

“Of fucking course it’s yours, asshole! God, out of all the insensitive shit you’ve said to me!”

“Jesus, calm your shit. Just fucking checking.”

“Just checking? God, Dabi, really? Out of every shit thing you’ve done and said, that one actually hurts. I’ve even told you I loved you and you’re gonna fucking ask if it’s yours? I’ve dealt with so much shit from you, I can’t.”

“Cut the fuckin dramatics; I haven’t done shit to you and don’t fucking ‘Dabi’ me.” He growls.

“Haven’t done shit? You haven’t done shit? You are such an asshole, Touya!” You yell as angry tears prick your eyes. “We’ve been doing this for close to a year, I deal with the fact that you won’t say you love me when you fucking know that I love you! I deal with the fact that sometimes you look at me like you do love me but you won’t fucking admit it!” You yell, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“I’m fucking sick of having the same damn fight. I haven’t done shit to you and you know it,” growls Dabi.

“Bullshit! I deal with the fact that we’ve been fucking around for almost a year. We both know that we don’t fuck other people and we’re actually commited to each other but you can’t actually say you’re committed to me! And you won’t call me your girlfriend, you won't say that I’m something more than the person that keeps your bed warm. So don’t say you haven’t done shit to me.”

“It’s not my fucking fault that you didn’t know what this was!” He shouts.

“Not your fucking fault?! You spent weeks with me when I got hurt! You got me this fucking necklace! You fucking lived in this room with me! Don’t give me some bullshit story about how it’s not your fault when all you’ve fucking done is make me think that we are or, at least, could be something more!” You scream as tears fall freely. His silence says everything you need to know at this moment.

Blinking back tears, you step away from him and wipe at your eyes. Jamming a hand in your back pocket, you pull out the key and the little pieces of paper wrapped around it. Holding it tightly in your hand, you look up at him again. His jaw clenches and eyes narrow as he looks down at you. Shaking your head, you shove the key and paper into his chest as you walk past him and grab the bag that has the last of your items from here.

“That’s my address and a key to my place. You don’t deserve it but I’m a fucking idiot that wants to give you a chance so whatever. If you feel like being a part of your kid and I’s life, that’s where you can find us.” Storming out, you manage to make it out onto the street before more tears finally fall and a small sob shakes your body.

Standing alone in the room he shared with you, Dabi pulls what you shoved at him away from his chest and looks down at. . . one key, one address, and one sonogram. . .

[languor-em]

Here it is!!! The Grimora x Reader that was WAY harder to write than it had any right being. Did I go through like,, thre separate ideas before I finally found one I liked?? Yes. Was it a self indulgent idea with a knight reader?? Absolutely.

Am I going to force it down y'all's throats? Yes. Yes I am.

Anyway I love Grimora so much she deserves so much more love than I see her getting.

Also!! General warning for gore and mentions of death because I'm a dramatic person

L'appel Du Vide (Grimora x GN!Reader)

In which it is not yet your time to go.

You could not remember how you got here.

Past a certain point everything was just… blurry. Faint and quickly fading impressions rather than clear and distinct imagery. You could remember grey- the clashing of steel and the shouts and screams of others. You could remember running towards something, something that felt like destiny. You could remember screaming out with bared teeth- burn, butcher! Burn!

You could barely remember the heat of battle, only faintly visualize the face of the one who had wronged you so long ago. You could hardly remember what it had felt like when your sword had pierced through their armor, ripping flesh and tearing a garbled scream from their throat. And you could only barely feel where their own weapon had cut you deep- had taken a chunk out of you.

You had collapsed, fading in and out of consciousness with only the fading warmth of vengeance finally satisfied to keep your spirit alive.

You thought maybe that the battle had ended, though you were not sure which side- if any- were victorious.

You could not remember how you got here.

Alone, cold, laying on your back on the cold ground. Your failing vision could barely process movement, could only really notice the shades of stormy grey and deathly purple that had taken over the battlefield. If you were even still on the battlefield, that was. You exhaled in a trembling sigh, closing your eyes for a moment and allowing an armored hand to rest lightly on top of your oozing wound. Your ears were ringing, everything surrounding you sounding as though it were beneath a good few feet of water. Your helmet had been removed- when had you done that? A cold breeze playing across your exposed face and drawing a weak shiver from your form. You were cold- colder than you had ever been. You feared that you would never be warm again- not with ice clinging to your bones they way it was now.

You forced your tired eyes open again, faintly aware of shadowy spectres wandering with no direction. You imagined you would join them soon, just another soul lost to battle. Just another epitaph for death to record- one of hundreds.

You inhaled, a strangled cry catching in your throat as your wound pulsed with fire. It burned, icy fire spidering up your veins and piercing your temples. You coughed, your whole body lurching with the effort and your eyes leaking pained tears. You tried not to sob, you really did, but the fear of your situation was finally sinking in.

You were dying.

You had anticipated it. Expected it- welcomed it, even. But now that you were here, death’s heavy embrace weighing down your whole form, you were terrified.

You didn’t want to go.

Retribution had left you feeling empty now that the hour for it had passed. Empty, and oh so very cold. What had it been worth? Surely not your life- not the hours you had spent training until your hands bled and until you collapsed from exhaustion. Surely not all the blood you had spilled, both your own and others’. You had dedicated yourself completely towards revenge, towards absolution. And what had it all been for, in the end?

Nothing.

This was not what you wanted your legacy to be. This is not what you wanted your gravestone to say. You did not want to die a bitter, angry person. You did not want to die having not truly lived.

This was not how you wanted to be remembered.

“Then how would you like to be remembered, my dear?”

You gasped, a nearly silent sound, your eyes once again fluttering open, though not without some considerable effort. It took a moment, but your shaky vision finally focused enough to see the woman knelt before you- her expression soft and her smile kind. The wrinkles gilding her face spoke of years of joy and laughter, a distinct wisdom shining through- the likes of which you had never seen before. Her eyes, while visually empty, glowed softly both literally and figuratively as she gazed down upon your battered, ruined form.

It took a long moment before you could reply, your voice weak and trembling with effort, “I am… not sure. There really isn’t anything else.”

You knew this woman, how could you not? You had seen statues of her, had read poems, stories, first-hand accounts describing her and the other three Scrybes. Everyone knew the face of death, knew her name. You were no exception.

What you had not accounted for was Grimora being far more beautiful than you could have even begun to imagine.

“Is that truly the case?” She murmured, her face moving a little closer to your own and a gentle hand brushing away the hair that stuck to your forehead, “Because I am certain that there is more to your story than this.”

You smiled, laughing breathily and allowing your heavy eyelids to close once more, “I’m afraid not, my lady. I am merely just another soul consumed by anger.”

You could not open your eyes as her hand came to rest gently on your cheek, far too exhausted to look upon her again. You could feel your life bleeding from you like wine pouring from a glass, your breaths becoming increasingly more labored and your heart sounding louder and louder in your ears. You did not react as you felt her remove the chest piece of your armor, deft fingers making quick work of the worn buckles and straps. Her other hand came to rest upon the quilted fabric of your tunic, just above your weeping wound, gentle as a moth’s fluttering wing.

“Oh, but there is, my dear,” her voice was a whisper, though it wove through your mind and drowned out everything else, “There is far more to your story than just vengeance. There is more to you than just that.”

You managed to crack open your eyes one more time, your breathing quiet and ragged. She leaned closer towards your face, the hand on your cheek tracing a gentle path with its thumb. She smiled, an expression you could only dare to describe as loving, the curled wisps of hair framing her face tickling your cheeks. Her presence was all-consuming, drowning out everything else. Fear, pain- everything except for the here and now.

“No,” she said, her voice sounding like honey on a warm piece of fresh bread, “No, there is more to you than that. And I look forward to learning exactly what that is.”

Your lips parted, your words dying on your tongue as her other hand rested entirely on the gaping wound in your side. It did not hurt, surprisingly enough, the icy heat beginning to fade away into a dull throbbing. A question caught in your throat, your body too exhausted to make hide nor hair of anything that was going on. But Grimora merely smiled, seeming to know exactly what was flitting through your mind.

“It is not yet your time to go, my dearest. Not for a long while yet.”

And with that she pressed a soft, chaste kiss to your forehead, lingering for a long moment before pulling away. Your eyes fluttered closed once more despite your best efforts to the contrary, the exhaustion you had been fighting finally pulling you under and into darkness. But it was not a cold, empty darkness. No- this was warm. This was comforting. This was the first time you had truly rested in… Stars only knew how long.

And you were resting still when you were finally found laying next to your vanquished foe, your wound having stopped its bleeding and color beginning to return to your cheeks. Your breathing was ragged, your heart-rate shaky at best- but you were alive.

You still had a story to tell, after all.

And death would await your tale with bated breath.

[gwynrielsupremacist]

A COURT OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS

Chapter 1: Voices

Read at AO3.

Gwyn's afternoon couldn't get any worse.

First of all, the morning's training had been horrendous.

Three weeks after the Blood Rite, Cassian and Azriel had thought it was time to start practicing again, since according to them, they had made a lot of mistakes that could very well have cost them their lives.

She was still alive, just like Nesta and Emerie, so at least one thing they had done well, survive.

After 3 weeks of not doing any sports, it was noticeable when you came back with all the energy, especially on a day where the sun was literally burning.

She noticed as she did push-ups that morning how her arms were trembling dangerously, the sweat running down the curve of her breasts, soaking the shirt she had worn.

Gwyn had promised herself that she would go out into the outside world.

That year she had made a lot of progress, she supposed she should be ready to enter society again, but no.

After the events in the Blood Rite, what she wanted was to lock herself in the darkest corner of the library, with a good book, and stay there to live.

Obviously, she couldn't do that. But she would have liked it.

With all the sore muscles, having failed almost all the obstacles the two Illyrians put them, showing a regrettable endurance in each and every one of the exercises, she had to go down to the library to have a pleasant chat with Merrill, who did not understand why her performance hadn't been 100% in recent weeks.

"I don't know, Merrill. Maybe because they pulled me out of bed against my will, left me in the middle of a forest full of Illyrians, while I had to fight to stay safe, as well as having to kill people? Maybe because I had never left the library after Sangravah, and I suddenly found myself in the same situation? " She reasoned, trying to control her pulse, having remembered the events in the Blood Rite.

She detested Merrill.

More than anyone else, she hated her. She often thought that life would be so much easier if people like Merrill just didn't exist.

After leaving her a ton of work to do, the female disappeared, leaving Gwyn with about seven books resting in her arms, already numb from the morning exercises.

She ran to the nearest table, relieved when she put the books down, with a thud.

She rubbed her dazed hands, wincing at the pile of books that awaited her to spend hours and hours together.

She had to research one of Merrill's new obsessions, the ancient and forgotten Prythian gods.

"I didn't even know they existed", she opined, opening a random book to a random page, flipping through the contents.

She got dizzy from so much information she did not understand, closing the pages with force, grabbing a cart that was nearby, leaving the volumes in it and going to her room, to calmly read those pages and pages of useless information, and then do a chapter-by-chapter summary for Merrill.

"Great, it's a good way to spend your free time if you love reading junk." She groaned as she carefully lowered the cart down the stairs.

"It is not junk. It is information that may be useful at some point", answered her subconscious.

At least she thought it was her subconscious.

She didn't remember when she had started to hear that voice, just one day it had appeared, and now it was considered the voice of reason.

Everything that voice said, it was true.

"I know, but I don't know how knowing which are the main and forgotten gods of Prythian is going to solve my problems." She attacked, greeting one priestess that came close to her, passing by her side.

The voice fell silent, apparently it had nothing more to add.

At least Gwyn could answer the voice in her mind. It would have been a strange thing to see a person argue with herself.

Upon reaching the room, which was a simple square with a bed, a wooden desk with a wooden chair that had more splinters than wood itself, and a modest closet, also made of wood.

Yeah, in summer the termites would destroy all the furniture if she wasn't careful.

Closing the door with the latch, one of the little luxuries she had on it, she put the books down with a thump, brushing her hands on the skirts of the gown, which was already heavily encrusted with dust.

She thought of taking off that long dress, which after so many washes the initial blue had ended up in an almost invisible gray, but she did not feel like going to the common baths of the priestesses, because every time she went there, they peppered her with questions about the Blood Rite.

And the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it.

So she collapsed on the bed, pulling back the covers and hugging the pillow with one arm, as she got into a fetal position.

"You have to go out, you can't hide in the bedroom all afternoon." It protested, to which she responded very kindly with a growl as she turned, trying to make it understand that she was going to do whatever she wanted.

"Alright then. If you get caught between the sheets and can't get out, don't come running to ask me for help." it threatened.

Gwyn didn't know how she was going to ask for help to a voice. It was disembodied, how the hell was she going to beg for help if she didn't even know what that murmur was?

She rolled over on the bed, rubbing her eyes and exhaling, disappointed.

She hated not being able to get out of that damn room.

She hated her insecurity and her irrational fear.

"It is not irrational, Gwyn." It assured her.

"Leave me alone." She begged, getting it to shut up.

She lay on her stomach, breathing deeply.

She looked at the time on the only clock in the room, located above the closet.

19.36.

It appears that she had a lot of time to do absolutely nothing.

Maybe she was going to pick up a book that Nesta and Emerie were reading.

Honestly, she was dying to sink her teeth into one that had caught her attention. According to her description, a maiden sent by the gods fell in love with her bodyguard...

Determined, she bolted upright, unlocking the latch, happily heading for the book.

There would be time to examine the books Merrill had passed her.

Anyway, she had a lot of time, reading something that interested her was not going to do anything bad to everyone.

With a broad grin, she made it to the fiction book section. She opened one of the books, tucking her nose between the pages, an exhale escaping from her lips when she smelled the wonderful book scent.

Her gaze sparking, she searched for the novel she was looking for.

"Didn't you forget something?" It asked.

She stopped short in the middle of the shelves, alarming a passing priestess.

Bowing her head in apology, she went back to searching, her eyes narrowing as she searched the thousands of spins with her eyes, finding none that bore the name of the book she was looking for.

"I don't have any errands to deliver to Merrill." She snapped, frowning when she finally found it.

It was at the top of the shelf.

She made a long face, standing on her tiptoes, stretching her arm as far as she could as she stuck her tongue out, focused.

"I don't mean Merrill, Gwyneth."

"Mysterious voice, what are you talking about?" The priestess demanded in a tired voice. She did not arrive. Why did they make the shelves so high? It was not possible that someone could reach them.

Although, don't get it wrong, Gwyn adored the voice. It was equal to the voice that we all have within us guiding us.

The problem was that the voice that she had was a little… annoying.

She looked at the shelves next to the floor, no books in sight.

Maybe if she got on them…?

She put one foot on it, skipping little hops as she judged whether the bookcase was going to fall or not.

Realizing that it was unlikely, she lifted her other foot, raising her heels as much as she could while she stretched out her arm, feeling her muscles go numb.

A little more ... just a little more ...

"You remember that your friend Nesta has a mate, right? And that you promised them that you would go to her ceremony?" As soon as she finished the sentence, Gwyn stopped.

Shit.

Seriously, had she forgotten that?

"There is still time… There are five days until the ceremony." The voice tried to calm her down, but nothing was going to do it now.

She jumped down from the shelf, as she began to walk from one place to another, in circles.

She had to go.

She couldn't do that to Nesta.

"I don't even have a dress. What am I going to wear?" Alarmed, she slightly stretched the strands of her coppery hair, thinking of a way to solve all the problems that had suddenly befallen her.

I have to leave the library to go to the mating ceremony.

I have to leave the library to go to the mating ceremony.

The female began to hyperventilate, forgetting the book that she had held less than 3 centimeters from her hands.

That was far more important.

"I can't tell Nesta that I forgot about her mating ceremony. I can't do that to her." Gwyn protested, running her hands over her face, rubbing her temples angrily, forcing herself to search for solutions and solutions and solutions.

But neither of them was going to work.

She had to get out of there, no priestess was going to leave her a suitable dress for the mating ceremony.

But she couldn't go alone. She did not dare to go down to the city alone.

Emerie couldn't help her. It had started the illyrian high-selling season and the illyrian needed the money. She only went to training, then she quickly returned to her store, not staying a minute longer than necessary.

Cassian and Nesta were completely out of the question.

Azriel...

"Ask him." The voice advised.

She needed to name that voice. She could not continue calling it "the voice", that was beginning to be uncomfortable.

"Maybe he can help you get the dress." It continued.

Would it be male or female? Or rather, what the hell was it?

"Are you listening to me?"

She definitely had no idea what it was.

"What are you?" Gwyn questioned, curious as she left the fiction section behind, walking aimlessly through the library.

She loved to wander aimlessly through the thousands of bookshelves, silent priestesses, the whisper of books her only company.

Besides that voice, of course.

"Have you heard anything I've said to you in the last two minutes?" Her voice roared.

"I've heard nonsense, so no, I haven't heard anything." She claimed. "But anyway, you haven't answered my question. What are you?"

"I am everything and I am nothing at the same time."

Now was it was being funny with her?

She rolled her eyes, annoyed "That is not an answer."

"It's an answer if you know how to interpret it." It answered.

She rolled her eyes again.

"Well, at least tell me what I can call you, it's uncomfortable to think of you as 'The voice'" She asked.

The voice fell silent, which she thought meant the end of the conversation.

She decided to head over to her room, assuming she should start Merrill's work, until 'the Voice' answered her.

"Elián"

Gwyn stood in the middle of the bedroom hall

"That is your name?"  She asked.

"My real name would burn your lips if you were able to pronounce it" It replied. "But yes, Elián is my name, and I am 'him', I have noticed how you struggled because you did not know if I was a man or a woman. The definition of gender is much more complicated than that, but it will be enough".

"G-Good." She answered.

Elián was quiet at last, leaving her with her own thoughts, as she opened the door, her own scent of jasmine feeling welcoming.

And the proposal he had made, although obviously she had ignored it, she was not wrong to consider.

Perhaps the Shadowsinger would help her out, aiding her finding a decent dress for her.

She closed the crank behind her, sitting on the small bed, wondering if it would be smart to ask him, risking him saying no, or not asking him and risking not having a dress for the ceremony.

Sighing, she figured she should go to the bathrooms to get the sensation of dust - and the dust itself - off her body, so she grabbed change clothes and headed there, deciding at that moment that tomorrow she would ask the Spymaster if he could accompany her to buy a dress.

Inside her, she could feel Elián nodding his head, giving his approval.

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