#had to help them with a landslide incident

[caoimhe-from-hoenn]

Just got home

I didn't do as much work as the rangers but holy fuck everything hurts

Won't be at the gym today catch me tomorrow

[runeruinrequiem]

aether & ash - origin.

Route: Gojo & Geto - Combined (Introductions)

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings: Mentions of battling and slight mentions of injury.

Masterlist | Read the previous part for Toji & Nanami here.

The past two weeks had felt like living inside a whirlwind you hadn’t signed up for.

Ever since that chaotic day during the Ignis tour—the day Toji accidentally launched a fireball at you while sparring with Maki—your life had been anything but quiet. It was as if the entire Academy had collectively decided you were their favorite topic of conversation. 

Not that the attention had ever fully gone away, but just as the gossip had begun to taper off into background noise, boom. That rogue fireball reignited the firestorm. Literally and figuratively.

Now? You couldn’t walk through a corridor without someone trying to stop you. You’d practically become a professional at ducking into side passages, vanishing into shadows, or pretending to be very interested in your coursework just to avoid conversations. Honestly, if the school held a hide and seek championship, you’d probably win by a landslide.

People you’d never so much as glanced at before were now all smiles and curiosity, trying to weasel their way into a chat. But it was never just small talk. No, everyone wanted to ask the same thing: the fireball, the way you defended yourself, and, most importantly, your magic.

Apparently, magic that was purely shadow-based wasn’t common, even among your fellow Nocturne students. The fact that you had instinctively thrown up a shadow shield fast enough to partially block such an advanced Ignis spell? Yeah, that didn’t go unnoticed. And now, your name was floating around in whispers, like some kind of urban legend in the making.

Between all of that, you’d found yourself returning to Lumen more often than you expected. Shoko had helped clean and dress your burn each time, welcoming you into the quiet Lumen Sanctum with tea and a touch of dry humor. 

Yuji, on the other hand, had made it his personal mission to check in on you every chance he got. Sometimes he even showed up unannounced in the Abyssal Archives with snacks or dumb jokes that didn’t always land but somehow still made you laugh.

And then there was Choso. Somewhere between study sessions in the Abyssal Archives and your shared distaste for social noise, the two of you had formed a tentative alliance—one that had slowly, to your own surprise, evolved into something resembling real friendship.

In fact, it was safe to say that the three of them—Shoko, Yuji, and Choso—had quietly carved out a place in your life. Which was kind of wild, considering you’d come to the Academy dead set on not making any friends.

But even with that growing circle of comfort, something about the days following the fireball incident felt… off. You couldn’t explain it in concrete terms. No evidence, no shadows flitting through the halls, no suspicious footsteps behind you. Just a feeling. That unnerving, stomach-coiling certainty that someone was watching you. Even when you were alone. Especially when you were alone.

It settled over your shoulders like a second cloak, weightless but impossible to ignore.

Creepy didn’t even begin to cover it.

The only place where that persistent, unsettling feeling didn’t seem to follow you was the Abyssal Archives. Within those quiet, ancient halls, where the air felt thick with knowledge and shadows clung to every corner, you felt at peace. It had become your refuge, the one space on campus where you could breathe freely without constantly glancing over your shoulder. Lately, you found yourself there more often than anywhere else.

At the moment, you were settled in your usual seat at a long oak table tucked deep in the Archives. Choso and Yuji were both sat across from you. In front of you lay an open tome filled with ancient runes and sigils, the first of three that Choso had recommended nearly a month ago when you'd first met. 

Despite the hours you’d spent flipping through its pages, you hadn’t found the sigil you were searching for—the one that had been etched into your memory since the night your parents vanished without explanation. It lived behind your eyelids, haunting your thoughts. You were sure you'd recognize it instantly, but so far, no luck.

Thankfully, you still had two more books to go. You hadn’t even cracked them open yet. There was time.

You let out a quiet yawn, stretching your arms high above your head before leaning back into your wooden chair. A satisfying pop echoed from your spine, and you exhaled with relief. After hours of poring over diagrams and translations, your eyes were dry and your brain was starting to fog. It was probably time for a break.

You leaned forward, gently closing the book before turning your attention to the two boys across from you. Yuji and Choso were in the middle of a quiet but heated discussion. They were both hunched over a sheet of parchment filled with stars, constellations, and messy notes, their voices little more than tense whispers.

“You’re supposed to mark the position of the Orion cluster relative to the horizon, not center it on the paper like it’s the main character,” Choso muttered sharply, tapping the edge of the chart with a pencil.

Yuji jabbed his finger at the page in defense. “Okay, but this way shows its symmetry better! It’s aesthetically balanced.”

“You’re not sketching a poster, you’re charting stellar movement.”

“Potato, po-tah-to.”

You couldn’t help the quiet laugh that bubbled from your throat. Without a word, you leaned forward and smoothly plucked the parchment from beneath Choso’s hand, ignoring their simultaneous indignant noises as you held it up for inspection. Your eyes scanned the notes for a moment, and then you pointed to a specific notation on the corner of the paper.

“If you shift the horizon line here and rotate the whole chart about ten degrees, you can keep the symmetry Yuji wants and still follow the actual assignment instructions.”

Yuji’s eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

Choso stared at the chart, then gave a small, grudging nod. “She’s right.”

You handed the parchment back to them with a little smirk. Yuji took it sheepishly, mumbling a quiet thanks, while Choso gave you a look that was almost impressed.

You watched in silence as Yuji carefully made the changes you'd suggested, his brows furrowed in concentration and tongue slightly peeking out. His handwriting, though a little messy, was surprisingly neat where it mattered, and he took extra care as he rotated the star chart and redrew the constellation lines. Once satisfied, he sat back with a grin, clearly proud of the result.

You let out another yawn and pushed your chair back with a soft scrape against the stone floor. “I think I’m gonna head out and take a nap,” you mumbled, stretching your arms above your head with a quiet groan.

Yuji looked up at you with a theatrical pout, his lower lip jutting out dramatically. “Awwh, really? I was just about to ask if you wanted to come watch the third-years spar!”

You paused mid-stretch, blinking down at him. That was unexpected. “What do you mean?” you asked, brow arching in mild curiosity.

His face immediately lit up like someone had flipped a switch. You could practically feel the excitement rolling off him. Yuji was always animated, but something about this made him downright giddy.

“Every month, all the third-years meet up in the Hall of Echoes for a big sparring exhibition,” he explained eagerly. “It’s like a mini tournament, kind of. They show off everything they’ve learned, test out new techniques, and just... go all out. Most of us first and second-years go to watch. It’s basically a tradition at this point.”

You folded your arms loosely across your chest, considering it. “And the fourth-years don’t go?”

He shrugged. “Not usually. I guess they’re too busy with their final projects or just think they’re above it or something.”

You tilted your head, still torn. A part of you really wanted to see what your fellow third-years were capable of, especially after witnessing Toji and Maki sparring during your tour. But another part of you hesitated, unsure if you could handle being in another crowd. You already stood out enough.

“So... that’s happening tonight?” you asked, glancing over at the tall clock built into the Archives wall. It was getting late, and a nap still sounded tempting.

Yuji nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! They always serve snacks, too, so you won’t miss dinner or anything.” Then, without warning, he dramatically leapt over the table, landing on his knees in front of you like some overexcited anime protagonist. You blinked, startled, as he clasped his hands together and gave you the most exaggerated puppy-dog eyes you’d ever seen. “Pleeeease come with me?” he begged. “I can finally introduce you to Megumi and Nobara!”

You stared at him for a long beat, watching him practically wag his metaphorical tail. Of course he had more friends he wanted to rope you into meeting.

With a long-suffering sigh, you relented. “Fine. But only if I don’t get hit by another rogue fireball.”

From across the table, Choso let out a rare chuckle. “Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “The Hall of Echoes is layered with more protective wards than any of the House Sanctums. You’ll be safe there.”

Now that was actually good to know.

“Are you going too?” you asked, glancing over at Choso with a curious tilt of your head.

He looked up from his book, the soft amber glow of the reading lamp casting faint shadows across his face. He gave a small shake of his head, his dark hair shifting slightly with the motion.

“No, not tonight,” he said. “I’ve got some research I need to finish. But maybe next time.” He offered you a small, apologetic smile.

You nodded in understanding. “Alright. I’ll see you later, then.”

Before Choso could respond, Yuji was already tugging at your sleeve, practically vibrating with impatience. He ushered you quickly out of the Archives, not even giving you time to grab your coat from the back of the chair. His grip was gentle, but his pace was relentless, and you found yourself nearly jogging to keep up.

The two of you hurried through the Hall of Shadows, the dim corridors lit by flickering enchanted lanterns that lined the dark stone walls. It was quiet here, the air cool and still, a stark contrast to the lively hum you could already hear in the distance.

As you exited the hall and stepped out into the open grounds of the Academy’s central district, the energy shifted. The air was alive with murmuring voices and laughter, students milling about in small groups, most of them moving toward the large, looming structure just ahead: the Hall of Echoes.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of indigo and rose. The spires of the Academy cast long shadows across the lawn, and the glowing lanterns suspended in the trees blinked to life, floating gently above the crowd.

Across the grassy expanse, you could see students filing into the Hall’s towering archway, their faces lit with excitement.

“Nobara!” Yuji suddenly shouted at full volume beside you, making you flinch as his voice cut through the twilight air. He winced at your reaction and gave you a sheepish, apologetic grin. “Sorry, I get excited.”

You rubbed your ear lightly but nodded, letting him drag you along through the thinning crowd. You followed him toward a girl standing near one of the old stone benches that ringed the common yard.

She looked to be around Yuji’s age, dressed in a dark wash jeans and a fitted blouse. Her auburn hair was neatly styled in a sleek bob that framed her sharp cheekbones, and her honey-brown eyes narrowed slightly as you approached. She looked you over once, then glanced at Yuji.

“Hey,” he said brightly, “this is the new student I was telling you and Megumi about!”

You met her gaze and offered a small but sincere smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Nobara gave a small nod, her expression softening just a little as she returned the smile. “Likewise,” she said simply, before shifting her attention back to Yuji. “Megumi said he’s running late, so we should just go in without him. He’ll catch up.”

Yuji let out a dramatic sigh at the mention of Megumi’s delay, clearly disappointed. “Alright, fine,” he muttered, though the glimmer in his eye told you he wasn’t actually upset. “But we’re saving him a good seat.”

The three of you merged seamlessly into the flow of students entering the Hall of Echoes, swept up in the quiet hum of excitement that filled the air. You stayed close to Yuji and Nobara as you passed beneath the towering arched entryway, the thick stone doors propped open to welcome the crowd inside.

The interior of the Hall had been completely transformed for the evening’s event. What was normally a grand, echoing chamber used for assemblies and formal gatherings now resembled a full-blown stadium. At the heart of the vast space stood an elevated sparring platform, roughly the size of a basketball court and built from dark gray stone etched with intricate runes. You recognized a few of them—sigils of protection, rapid healing, and impact absorption—clearly placed with care to ensure safety.

The platform was surrounded on all sides by tiered stone bleachers that climbed high into the vaulted ceiling. About halfway up the seating, you spotted standing platforms—small, elevated decks fitted with sturdy railings and spaced out evenly across the stands. 

These areas seemed tailored for students who wanted a clearer view or preferred to stay on their feet. Some of the platforms had small food carts nestled against the walls, manned by various staff members handing out drinks and snacks.

All around the room, floating sconces hovered in midair, their golden flames glowing steadily without smoke. They cast the entire space in a warm, ethereal light that flickered off the polished stone walls.

Yuji took the lead, confidently weaving his way through the growing crowd. You and Nobara followed closely behind as he climbed a set of stone steps leading to one of the standing platforms a few rows up. The platform offered a perfect vantage point of the sparring stage, and the scent of grilled food wafting from the nearby cart made your stomach rumble.

“We can sit here,” Yuji offered, motioning to a small row of stone seats situated just behind the platform. “But we usually stand for this—it’s easier to see everything.”

You stepped forward and placed your hands on the cool railing, leaning slightly to peer down at the stage below. “I’m fine with standing,” you replied, eyes scanning the space. The buzz of anticipation in the air was infectious, and for the first time all day, you felt something close to excitement stirring in your chest.

You found yourself zoning out for a while, lulled by the ambient noise and flickering light, content to simply lean against the railing and take it all in. Beside you, Yuji and Nobara had fallen into a rapid-fire exchange, whispering animatedly as they pointed toward various groups in the crowd and tossed playful bets back and forth about who might be called to spar and who would come out on top. Their energy was infectious, but your mind was elsewhere, your gaze sweeping across the steadily filling Hall of Echoes.

From your elevated vantage point, you had a clear view of many of the students and faculty already settled in. Toward the far side of the bleachers, you spotted Nanami sitting with a brown-haired guy whose name escaped you. 

The two seemed to be in the middle of a lively conversation, though Nanami wore his usual calm and composed expression while the other guy gestured and spoke with an enthusiasm that reminded you of Yuji. Shoko sat just beside them, her posture relaxed, a small, amused smile playing on her lips as she listened quietly to whatever the other two were discussing.

A little further off to the left, your eyes caught on another familiar pair—Toji and Sukuna. The two of them were laughing openly, shoving at each other’s shoulders with the kind of reckless ease that only came with shared chaos and long familiarity. Of course those two were friends. You scowled instinctively, your stomach turning slightly. Before either of them could glance your way, you tore your gaze from them and looked literally anywhere else.

Toward the opposite end of the bleachers on the other side of the hall, you noticed a few more recognizable faces. Maki was seated with two other students you vaguely remembered being from House Aether—Yuta, with his soft demeanor and gentle expression, and Inumaki, who sat quietly nibbling on something skewered. 

Nearby, Mai Zenin, Maki’s twin and your fellow Nocturne student, was lounging on a bench with her arms crossed. On either side of her were two other girls you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to meet: one with wild blonde pigtails and another with soft powder-blue hair, both laughing about something.

The soft hum of conversation and distant laughter cut off in a single moment when a dense plume of black smoke curled upward from the center of the sparring stage. The crowd let out a collective cheer, students immediately falling into excited murmurs as the smoke dissipated to reveal Headmaster Delacroix standing tall beneath the golden sconces.

“Welcome, welcome!” His voice carried through the Hall with unnatural clarity, likely boosted by some kind of amplification spell. “To our monthly Third-Year Exhibition, where skill meets spotlight and where tomorrow’s legends sharpen their blades today. As tradition dictates, the winner of last month’s final match will open tonight’s event and has earned the right to select any fellow third-year for their first match.”

He paused, letting the suspense linger for effect.

“With that, I invite Satoru Gojo to the stage!”

The response was deafening. You turned your attention back to the sparring platform just in time to see a tall figure emerge from the crowd. He moved with a kind of easy arrogance, his steps slow and deliberate. Tousled white hair framed a striking face, and his eyes, an almost unnatural, vivid blue that sparkled with mischief as he grinned at the crowd like he owned the world.

You looked over at Yuji, silently asking for clarification with a raised eyebrow.

He grinned knowingly. “That’s Satoru Gojo, House Solara. Same House as Nobara. He’s, like, the golden boy of the Academy. Top of his class, crazy powerful, and basically loved by everyone.”

Nobara leaned forward around Yuji, her tone dry and sarcastic as she caught your eye. “Don’t let the fan club fool you. He’s good, yeah, but he’s also the most insufferably cocky guy you’ll ever meet.” She rolled her eyes. “Believe me. The praise goes straight to his ego.”

Yuji let out a quiet laugh. “I mean, fair. But he’s been cool the few times I’ve talked to him. He’s laid-back and friendly enough. Just really confident, I guess.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Anyway, yeah. Since he won last month’s sparring event, he gets to go first tonight and pick his opponent. It’s kind of a tradition.”

You nodded, eyes drifting back to the sparring platform where Gojo stood, soaking in the energy of the crowd like a performer basking in the spotlight. Despite his relaxed posture and easygoing demeanor, there was a sharpness behind his bright blue eyes. He was clearly thinking carefully about who he wanted to call out.

“Who do you think he’ll pick?” you asked, keeping your voice low as you studied him. His gaze swept across the crowd, pausing now and then like he was taking mental notes.

Nobara folded her arms, her brows drawn together slightly in thought. “Hard to say for sure. But if I had to guess? He beat Toji last month, and that was a big deal. After something like that, the winner usually picks someone who’s either close to the last opponent or someone from the same House, which means he’ll probably choose Sukuna since he and Toji are like, best friends.”

Your eyes flicked over to Sukuna, who looked completely at ease. He lounged in his seat with his arms stretched over the backrest, a faint smirk on his face like he was already enjoying the show. 

You leaned forward slightly, curiosity piqued as you waited to see who Gojo would choose. He was still scanning the crowd, his gaze drifting lazily over the sea of faces. Then, without warning, his eyes found yours. For a second, he seemed to pause. A slow, knowing smirk curled across his face, and the shift in his expression was unmistakable.

A chill swept down your spine as your stomach twisted with unease. You didn’t even need to look around to feel it: more than half the Hall had turned to follow his line of sight. Dozens of eyes landed on you at once, and it was like a spotlight had been thrown your way.

Yuji inhaled sharply beside you. “Oh, shit,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he turned to glance at you with wide, sympathetic eyes.

From the platform below, Gojo’s voice rang out in a lighthearted, teasing drawl. “Hey, princess. I’ve been hearing all sorts of things about you lately.” He grinned up at you, his tone casual but unmistakably pointed. “Figured this was as good a time as any to introduce myself, don’t you think?”

You stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “Do I have a choice in this?” you asked under your breath, turning to Yuji and Nobara in a quiet panic. So much for trying to stay low-profile.

Nobara gave a tiny shrug, her expression apologetic. “Technically, yeah. You can turn him down. But it’s kind of an unspoken rule that if you're a third-year and you show up to the match, you’re fair game. Most people assume you’re willing to be picked.”

You stared at her like she’d just spoken in a different language. “I didn’t even know these sparring matches existed until, like, an hour ago.”

Nobara winced. “Yeah, that’s... rough timing.”

You turned your head slowly and leveled a glare at Yuji, who visibly shrank beneath your stare. He raised his hands in a small, sheepish gesture of surrender, his smile tight and apologetic.

“You owe me for this,” you muttered, your voice low with pointed frustration.

Yuji nodded quickly, already backing away a step. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Big time. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

Letting out a long sigh, you brought your fingers to your temples, rubbing slow, deliberate circles in an attempt to stave off the stress headache building behind your eyes. Meanwhile, Gojo’s voice echoed through the Hall again, louder and more impatient this time.

“Let’s go, princess! We don’t have all night!”

You closed your eyes briefly, trying not to let the dozens of stares get to you. Alright. If this was happening, you might as well make the most of it. While in Rome, right? No point in slinking onto the stage like a nervous first-year. If Gojo wanted a show, he’d get one.

In a blink, the shadows curled around your ankles, rising like smoke and swallowing your form in a quiet rush of magic. One moment, you were standing on the platform beside Yuji and Nobara. The next, you were at the center of the sparring stage, facing Gojo directly. The teleportation spell left behind a shimmer of residual shadows that curled and faded like mist at your feet.

It was a simple maneuver. One of the first pieces of magic you had mastered as a child. Quick, smooth, and dramatic enough to leave an impression. Judging by the murmur of voices rippling through the crowd and the sharp gleam of surprise in Gojo’s widened eyes, it had worked exactly as intended.

Gojo let out an amused laugh that echoed through the Hall, the sound drawing even more attention from the onlookers above. He tilted his head, his expression shifting into something curious, and began to slowly circle you. His steps were smooth and deliberate, every movement oozing confidence as his sharp blue eyes never left yours.

“Impressive,” he said, voice silky and low with interest. He moved like a predator, relaxed but alert, as if waiting to see what you’d do next.

You narrowed your eyes, your body rotating with his as he circled, arms folded tightly across your chest. The scowl etched into your face deepened, and you made sure to keep him in your line of sight, not trusting for a second that he’d wait before making a move.

“Are we going to spar,” you asked, voice laced with irritation, “or are you just going to stand there staring at me all night?”

Gojo grinned in response. “Bit of both,” he quipped. Before you could reply, he vanished.

A sudden flare of golden light ignited just behind you. You spun on instinct, shadows coiling from your fingertips and exploding outward in a wide arc. Gojo blinked back with a smirk, his body wreathed in flickering radiance. He threw his hand out and a whip of sunfire cracked through the air, barreling straight toward you.

You raised your arm. A shield of shadows surged up from the ground, absorbing the strike with a hiss, the magical pressure crackling through the air. You dropped the shield just in time to see Gojo vault into the air, his figure outlined in light. With a flourish, he hurled a barrage of blindingly bright projectiles down at you, magic shaped like daggers of sunlight.

With a quick pivot, you sunk into a pool of darkness, your form melting into the shadows. You reappeared several feet away in a blur of motion, just as the daggers detonated where you had been standing. The force of the explosion lifted bits of stone and dust into the air, but you were already back on the move.

“Not bad,” Gojo called, landing effortlessly on the other side of the sparring stage. “Quick reflexes. Very Nocturne of you.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, only narrowed your eyes and reached out with your magic. Shadowy tendrils rose like smoke around your feet, then snapped forward like whips. Gojo ducked, twisted, and with a burst of sunlight, shattered the tendrils mid-air.

“Flirty and fast,” he teased.

You lunged at him this time, a blade of condensed shadow forming in your hand. He parried it with a barrier of golden energy, the clash sending ripples of force across the stage. You didn’t let up—twisting around, you released a pulse of shadow magic at his feet, attempting to bind him.

Gojo grunted as his ankles were momentarily snared, but with a snap of his fingers, the bindings burst apart in a flash of light. “You’re full of surprises,” he muttered, grinning like a kid at a festival.

“You talk too much,” you shot back, dancing around another wave of light and retaliating with a concentrated blast of darkness.

The sparring grew more intense as minutes passed, yet it never lost its edge of playfulness. Gojo was clearly holding back, but not in a way that made you feel underestimated. He was testing you, reading your rhythm, adapting, and challenging you to do the same. And you did.

Through it all, Gojo kept smiling. Every parry and dodge, every witty comment thrown across the stage—it was a dance, and you were starting to enjoy the music.

Your chest heaved from exertion, a faint sheen of sweat beginning to gather at your temple. Still, you met his next strike with a grin of your own, shadow colliding with light in a dazzling explosion.

The Hall of Echoes had fallen mostly silent, hundreds of eyes fixed on the two of you as your battle continued.

And for the first time since arriving at the Academy, you weren’t thinking about staying hidden.

You were thinking about how alive you felt.

You could tell Gojo was enjoying himself. The way his eyes sparkled with amusement, the slight curve of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and the casual tone in his voice all pointed to someone who thrived in the thrill of a good challenge. Every movement he made was deliberate yet effortless, like he was putting on a show just as much as he was trying to win.

The two of you were evenly matched. Each clash of magic was like a carefully rehearsed routine, light meeting shadow in sharp bursts of energy that sent faint ripples through the air. Gojo moved with a dancer's grace, weaving radiant spells into his attacks, while you answered with sleek, agile strikes laced in darkness. Neither of you held back. You ducked, twisted, countered, every breath and step timed to the rhythm of the fight. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, your limbs burned with exertion, but you didn’t dare let up.

For a moment, it felt like this sparring match might never end. Every time one of you gained the upper hand, the other found a way to reverse it. You could sense the anticipation from the crowd growing with each exchange.

Then you saw it.

Gojo had gone for another flashy maneuver, twisting into a wide arc of blinding light. It was impressive, no doubt, but he left himself exposed for just a second too long. His front foot faltered slightly as he shifted his weight to recover. It was all you needed.

You surged forward, shadows coiling around your legs to boost your speed. In a blink, you were beneath his guard. You ducked low to avoid the final burst of light and swept his legs out from under him with a tendril of shadow. He hit the ground with a soft thud, stunned just long enough for you to close in. You dropped down, knee planted over his chest, and formed a blade of dark magic in your hand. The sharp edge hovered just inches from his throat.

Gojo’s eyes widened briefly in surprise, before the same grin returned, brighter than before. He let out a breathless laugh, one hand rising to push his damp hair away from his forehead.

“Well played,” he panted, smirking up at you. “You fight well—deadly and dramatic. I like it.” He flashed you a toothy grin, eyes glinting with admiration, and threw in a cheeky wink for good measure.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth, and stepped back. As you rose to your feet, you dusted yourself off, brushing away nonexistent debris with exaggerated flair. The applause that followed was distant, like a faint buzz beneath the blood still pumping in your ears.

You hopped off the stage in one fluid motion, landing lightly on your feet and ignoring the chorus of voices that rose around you—students eager to talk, to praise, to ask questions. You had no interest in entertaining them right now.

Instead, you tilted your head up toward the bleachers, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on the familiar shapes of Yuji and Nobara. A third person had joined them now—a tall figure with dark, spiky hair and a cool, observant expression. That had to be Megumi.

You gave Yuji a quick nod and a small wave. He returned it with a grin, raising a fist in a silent cheer. You took that as your cue to slip away, the adrenaline slowly draining from your body as you turned to leave.

— — —

If you had thought the attention after the fireball incident with Toji was overwhelming, it was nothing compared to the chaos that followed your victory over Gojo.

In the hours and days that followed the sparring match, it felt like the entire Academy had turned its gaze directly onto you. Whispers trailed behind you like shadows in every hallway. Students you had never seen before, let alone spoken to, stared openly as you passed; some with awe, others with thinly veiled jealousy. Even professors had begun eyeing you with a new kind of scrutiny, murmuring in hushed tones when they thought you weren’t listening. A few even stopped you outright to ask questions about your training, your background, and how exactly you managed to outmaneuver someone like Gojo.

It wasn’t just curiosity anymore, it was obsession.

The buzz around campus didn’t die down. If anything, it escalated. The duel had become the talk of every House common room, every study group, every lunch table. More than once, you had been followed through the halls by clusters of first-years hoping to catch a glimpse of you, or worse, ask for pointers.

You had never considered yourself claustrophobic. Crowds had never bothered you before. But after the third time in a single morning you were cornered just trying to grab a cup of tea, a knot of unease began settling in your chest. There was no quiet anymore. No real space to breathe. The weight of constant attention pressed in on you from every direction, and you couldn’t shake the growing itch under your skin that came with it.

If this was what fame felt like, you wanted no part of it.

The moment you could slip away from the endless parade of questions and attention, you did.

You didn’t head toward the House Sanctums, or even the Abyssal Archives. Too many people. Too many chances someone would stop you before you made it halfway there. Instead, you took the narrow path that wound up the side of the western tower, your feet moving on instinct more than thought. 

No one ever really went to the Celestial Observatory—at least, not often. It wasn’t tied to any House, and aside from the Astronomy students who occasionally used it for night sky charts, it was all but forgotten in the day-to-day bustle of the Academy.

Perfect.

You pushed open the heavy arched door and slipped inside, letting it fall shut behind you with a low thud that echoed faintly in the vast, circular chamber. The air was still, quiet, and carried a faint scent of parchment and old stone. 

Overhead, the glass dome offered an unobstructed view of the dusky sky, stars just beginning to flicker to life in the indigo haze above. Golden filigree in the shape of constellations traced the dome, catching the last bits of sunlight and reflecting them across the floor in delicate patterns.

You exhaled, tension melting from your shoulders as the silence wrapped around you.

Finally, peace.

But it didn’t last long.

That strange, crawling sensation returned. Like invisible eyes were watching you, tracking your every movement. It wasn’t like the attention from the students or staff. This felt heavier. Focused. Intentional.

You turned sharply, eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows near the tall brass telescope. A figure leaned casually against one of the support beams, as though he had been there the entire time. You hadn’t heard him come in.

He stepped forward, the light from the dome catching on the gold trim of his black clothing. Shoulder-length dark hair framed his face, and there was something sharp yet calm in the way he regarded you.

“Sorry,” he said smoothly, voice carrying a rich, easy warmth. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You didn’t move, not yet. “You’ve been watching me.”

He smiled at that. “You’re very observant.”

You crossed your arms. “Who are you?”

“Suguru Geto, from House Aether,” he said, offering a slight bow that felt oddly formal. “I was curious about your shadow magic. You don’t see that kind of control often.”

You studied him in return, unsure whether to be wary or intrigued. “I’ve had good teachers.”

A quiet hum escaped him. “I believe it. Your magic is refined. Intuitive. You don’t just use it, you seem to understand it.”

The compliment threw you off a little. Most people had only been interested in the spectacle of your abilities, not their depth. You glanced away, stepping closer to the railing that overlooked the lower floors of the tower. “I’ve spent a long time learning how to balance it.”

“Shadow magic is complex,” Geto said, following your gaze. “It thrives in subtlety. Control it too tightly, and it recoils. Let it go, and it swallows you. Light and dark aren’t enemies, they’re part of the same breath. Opposing forces dancing on a single thread.”

You turned your head slightly, genuinely surprised. “You study balance?”

“I study power. And balance is a kind of power most people overlook.”

That made you pause. Of all the people who had approached you lately, none had spoken to you like this. Like they weren’t trying to dissect you or claim you. Just... understand.

You found yourself relaxing, just a little. “It’s not always easy. The shadows want to consume. You have to know when to let them guide you, and when to guide them.”

Geto nodded slowly. “Exactly. You’re walking a knife’s edge between becoming something monstrous, or something extraordinary.”

You tilted your head, a faint smile playing at your lips. “You always this philosophical with people you’ve just met?”

His grin returned, softer this time. “Only when they’re worth talking to.”

And strangely, despite everything that had happened over the past few days, talking to him didn’t feel forced or awkward. His presence was calm, almost serene.

The conversation between you and Geto flowed with surprising ease, drifting from magic theory to observations about the Academy, and even to a few scattered comments about the stars overhead. He had a way of speaking that made even the most abstract ideas feel grounded, his voice low and measured, laced with curiosity rather than judgment. Time slipped by unnoticed, until a yawn crept up on you, catching you off guard.

You rubbed at your eyes and glanced toward the arched door. “I should probably head back,” you said, your voice softer now, reluctant. “If I don’t sleep, I’ll fall over myself tomorrow.”

Geto inclined his head, a faint smile still resting on his lips. “Understandable. Though I admit, it was refreshing to talk to someone who doesn’t see the world in black and white.”

You moved toward the doorway, pausing with one hand on the cool handle. “It was… nice speaking with you,” you said honestly, turning back to look at him one last time. “Really.”

His dark eyes held yours for a moment longer, something thoughtful behind them. “Likewise,” he replied. “I hope this won’t be the last time. The Observatory is... Nicer, with company like yours.”

You offered a faint, tired smile and nodded, stepping into the hallway beyond. The heavy door closed behind you with a soft thud, leaving behind the calm of the Observatory, and the lingering warmth of a conversation that had made you feel, even just for a little while, like yourself again.

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

WHUMPCEMBER DAY 17

Greatest fear

TW: buried alive

It had been over 3 186 minutes by no. 3 187.

Whumpee had lost count several times, so it was likely much longer, but counting was the only thing connecting him to the outside world. To hope.

So many minutes... It was something like three days. He didn't think his oxygen supply would last for so long... He had expected something like 48 hours at most. Especially with all his screaming and pleading in the beginning.

He shifted in the cramped space, wincing as his stiffened joints ached from the lack of movement. The planks were digging into his back, and if he took a deep breath, he could feel them touch his chest too.

Whumpee really hoped his friends were close to finding him, because otherwise he would lose his mind before dying.

Regularly, his breathing would accelerate as he would panic and sob, and kick, and trash. All of that for nothing, but he couldn't help it. And then he would calm down, and remember to save his oxygen.

The situation reminded him of the incident that made him stop speleology. When him and his buddy had been stuck in a landslide for several hours, before the rescue team found them. He survived, his friend did not.

But this time, he hadn't chosen to be here. And he couldn't help but scream for nonexistent help again, feeling the air slowly becoming stale in his lungs.

@whumpcember

[m-graveyard]

Dark Farfadream Royalty AU

So the Dark Farfadream Royalty AU won by a landslide so I will be talking about that. Be warned this will contain some dark themes like non/con, torture, miscarriage mentions, and just Dream going through the wringer for this idea

TW mentions of rape, miscarriage, and torture in graphic detail read at your own risk

Farfadox is the Demon King who came out victorious in a war against the kingdom of Essempi. To not have the kingdom destroyed, the nobles agree to a list of demands the Demon King has given them, one of the demands being they give him a bride because his previous spouse died and he has no heirs to his throne.

On the final day before departure, Farfadox is handed his bride who he notices is dressed in a wedding dress too big that covers the bride completely. The bride has a veil covering their face but Farfadox can see that his bride-to-be is trembling in fear as they are pushed into the Demon King's arms, ignoring the snide remarks from the soldiers who brought him his bride, he lifts the veil covering their face to see beautiful emerald green eyes filled with tears staring back at him. His bride's face is heavily scarred but to Farfadox, his bride is one of the most beautiful people in the world he has seen

OR

Dream, Essempi's princess turned prince has been locked away in prison after his family was overthrown and executed by the NotFound family with him only being alive due to the NotFound family's son who took an interest in him. After an incident, Dream was tortured and assaulted for many years until he was given to Farfadox being told he wouldn't even survive the first night

Side Notes:

Dream is trans but he was misgendered during his imprisonment and when he is offered to Farfadox he doesn't bother trying to correct him whenever Farfadox addresses him as a 'she'

The reason why Farfadox wasn't enraged when Dream was given to him as his bride after being told Dream was a prisoner is that in demon culture it's not uncommon for their people to sometimes marry slaves; Farfadox's father was a gladiator slave before his mother married him

During his time imprisoned, Dream was impregnated against his will and had multiple kids which are Ranboo (kicked out of the house at a young age due to how 'different' he looked and now lives in the forest at the edge of a village), Connor (living in fear with his dad who is a raging alcoholic), Hannah and Tina (half-sisters who are constantly abused by their stepmother but their half-sister Sylvee tries her best to keep them safe even if it means taking the brunt of her mother's abuse) and Yogurt (who was actually the only consensual pregnancy Dream had with Fundy after Fundy was forced by his dad Wilbur to sleep with Dream)

The reason why Dream was saved from being executed was because George had seen Dream once as a kid and wanted him as his wife, so another kid was executed in Dream's place. Over the course of a year after the rebellion he gets close to Dream and when he tries to initiate sex Dream gets scared, lashes out and on accident breaks George's nose; this then leads to Dream getting raped by George, beaten by some knights who then are given permission to use him as they see fit

Before Dream is sent off to Farfadox, he is gang-raped for hours and was told he was sent off because he couldn't produce any more kids so Dream doesn't say a word to Farfadox about the assault until a couple months later he wakes up feeling nauseous and finds out he is pregnant (it's George's kid) but loses the baby a couple weeks later

Techno is Dream's Godfather and emperor of the Antartic Empire, a small kingdom. He was devastated when he heard of the rebellion and execution but he couldn't declare war as his kingdom was smaller and not as powerful compared to Essempi

Farfadox and Dream eventually work things out and Dream gets all the help he needs to fully heal and a couple years later the two have sex and eventually Dream gets pregnant with twins

[goldendiie]

the confessional

Or: an exploration of Sarge's religion in The Third Blink AU. (Repost of something I deleted from my AO3).

The mid-September air was thick and sweet with the smell of harvest, chilled by the early tides of Autumn. The stars would have been beautiful on a night like this, if anyone had been looking. The Parson County High School football field was cast under bright-white light: the first in the line of regional games had just finished in a landslide win, as usual.

Willie Jones was seventeen. The autumn of his senior year had been good to him, so far. He cared little for his schoolwork, these days: he’d much rather spend his time on the football field, or raccoon hunting with his friends. That’s what high school was for, he figured: enjoying youth while he still had it, unconcerned with his future.

He collected his gear, shoving it into an aged duffel bag. As he left the locker room, he carried it over his shoulder, with his helmet and shoulder pads in his opposite hand. He thought idly about what would happen when his team inevitably won the championship. Perhaps they would be deemed the best high school football team in Ohio; for a moment, he fantasized about winning nationals.

“Hey, Jones!” Someone called to his left.

He turned. Gerry Oswald, the starting quarterback, waved him down. He was tall and broad-shouldered, bigger than any of the other guys on the team. Willie crossed the parking lot to join him.

“We’re going to get a twelve-pack and go cruising,” Gerry said, “Want to come?”

Willie looked past him, to the small group of people that would evidently be tagging along. Most were football players, and all were seniors.

“Won’t your dad have something to say about you keeping the truck out late?” Willie asked.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” Gerry said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

The gesture sent shockwaves down Willie’s spine. His mind was terrifyingly blank, and his skin buzzed where Gerry’s hand had anchored.

“I, uh… I better not,” he managed. He came up with some half-assed excuse. “I told my dad I’d help him out around the auto shop, tomorrow morning. I don’t want to be hungover.”

“You’re lame, Jones.” Gerry moved his hand, and scuffed up Willie’s hair; afterwards, it fell back to his side. “Tell you what—We’ll drop by your house in a couple of hours. Maybe you’ll quit being such a square by then.”

“If you really want to,” Willie said. He offered a smile. “I doubt I’ll change my mind, though.”

Gerry was already walking away. “Think about it, Jones.”

Willie deflated, trying his hardest not to watch him walk away. He forced himself to turn, walking back toward his hand-me-down Jeep. His skin still buzzed from where Gerry had touched him; his mind began to wander, but he stopped it before it went too far.

The steering wheel was cold to touch, but it thankfully grounded him. He fumbled through the console for his pack of Newports, and was quick to light one up.

Incidents like this—the touch, the strange yearning, the terrible, awful feeling that sat in his gut—had become more frequent in the past months. He wished that things were different; but, as a realist, he knew that they weren’t. There was a bright neon sign that flashed in the back of his mind, but Willie simply chose not to look at it.

Silently, he smoked his cigarette. Across the parking lot, he could see Gerry and the others crowding into an old pickup truck. If he listened hard enough, he could hear their laughter.

Distantly, he regretted not joining them. It would have been fun; but frankly, he did not trust himself to be drunk around everyone else. All it would take was another touch of the hand, another gesture…

No. It wasn’t good to think like that. It wasn’t normal.

Willie fit the key into the ignition, and put the Jeep into gear. As he drove away, he shoved every bad thought into the back of his mind, where they fit very neatly into an unlabeled mental box.

. . .

Six days later, Willie told his parents that he was going to take a walk to the corner store. He politely declined when his twin brother, Wade, offered to tag along; “I’ll be quick,” he said, “I’m just going to buy a new lighter.”

It was a beautiful evening, the kind that only came around toward at the very beginning of fall. The sky was pink, and the air was still and cool. Leaves crunched under his boots as he walked, and he resisted the urge to light a cigarette.  

He walked two blocks, stopping outside of a church. He stared at its door for several moments, struggling to find his courage: his family had attended this church every Sunday for longer than he could remember. Silently, he prayed that the priest would not recognize his voice.

The door creaked as Willie entered. Despite the evening, a light was on in the confession box.

Hesitantly, Willie approached. His heart pounded in his chest as he opened the door and stepped inside. He breathed deeply, struggling to calm himself.

His voice was a near whisper as he spoke. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he said. “It has been three years since my last confession.”

“Welcome,” the priest hummed. “What do you have to confess?”

“I…” Willie took a deep, shuddering breath. “I… I can’t—”

“God will forgive you.”

“I’m… I think I’m a homosexual,” he croaked. “I’ve had… impure thoughts, about other boys in my class.” He finished, quietly: “For this and all my sins, I’m sorry.”

“Have you acted on this?” The priest asked.

“No,” Willie said. He added, silently, never.

“Then you have not sinned, my child,” The priest said; his voice sounded as though he was smiling. “You are simply weathering another of God’s tests. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Willie stared blankly at the wall across from him. “… What?”

“You have not sinned unless you’ve acted upon it,” The priest clarified, kindly. “Lead not into temptation, child.”

Quietly, the priest ended the confessional. Perhaps he was meant to be stuck with this burden; God wanted him to live a normal life, despite whatever he felt. They key was, of course, to never act on it.

. . .

It wasn’t that Willie lost his religion when he enlisted. Quite the opposite, actually: he knew that God watched over him in Vietnam, and he knew that he was ensured safe passage home. Really, he had neglected to go to church for convenience’s sake: he was not terribly worried about his eternity, in the little time that he had to himself.

He ended up as a quartermaster in Arizona, far into the desert. He liked it there: the weather was always warm, and it hardly ever rained. It certainly made boot camps a little bit difficult, but he believed that it was better training, anyway.

Soldiers held confessionals at small-town bars: between pulls of whiskey, they spoke of their lives overseas. I saw what happened in Phuoc Tuy, a young man would say; or, I cheated on my wife with a prostitute in Saigon.

Willie (or, rather, Sarge—as most people called him, these days) never joined in their religious ceremonies. He observed from afar, listening. He resigned himself to keeping his secrets to himself; he was not keen on being cast out from the group.

Besides: his memories of Gerry Oswald after the regional football game were something he liked to keep to himself. It was a grim reminder of who he was, what he was; another of God’s tests.

. . .

“Cigarette?”

There was man—beautiful, young, with flowers in his hair and beads hanging from his neck—offering an open pack of Marlboro Reds. Sarge took one, despite himself. He’d been trying to quit.

He replied, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Sarge was twenty-three, and it had been five years since his last confession. He tried desperately to remind himself of temptation, but failed miserably.

Instead, he was occupied by the heavenly man that shared his cigarettes. His name was Fillmore. He was nineteen years old, and he’d dropped out of college to open a business. He protested the war in Vietnam, smoked marijuana, and believed in Free Love.

Together, they stood outside of one of the bars on the Radiator Springs downtown strip. They had been drinking together—not a lot, just a few beers—and Fillmore had wanted to step outside of a smoke. Sarge could nearly feel the tides of addiction upon him; he joined him for a cigarette far more often than he should.

“You still haven’t told me,” Fillmore was saying, puffing smoke. “Why didn’t you go to college? I mean, you had that football scholarship, and everything…”

“I didn’t want to,” Sarge replied. “I liked the military more.”

“Weird, man,” Fillmore whistled. “I wonder what you would’ve been like. More jock-ish, I guess.”

He was nearly enchanting in the evening light. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with kind eyes and a nice smile. He appeared to chuckle to himself as he took another pull from his smoke; with his eyes turned elsewhere, Sarge found it incredibly easy to stare. He fixated on the curve of his collarbone underneath his shirt, the way his fingers curved as they held his cigarette, how his brown hair fell into his eyes whenever he ducked his head.

A bite from the apple of Eden had led to the creation of humanity.

. . .

Sarge’s mind burned against the inside of his skull as Fillmore walked him home after the fireworks show. His lips buzzed where Fillmore had kissed them, barely an hour earlier; he was certain that he looked disheveled, kiss-swollen and blushing. Oh, how he wished it to continue: he wondered what Fillmore would taste like in the dark and without clothes, how they might touch each other then. Their sin might become holy through the sacrament of free love.

“Listen,” Fillmore spoke (and, Sarge wished that he could listen to his voice forever). “I, uh… If you need me, you know where to find me.”

Sarge nodded, unable to bring himself to speak.

“For anything,” Fillmore continued. “Like, uh…” he laughed softly looking away. “Anything.”

“Okay,” Sarge managed.

They stopped outside of his motel room door. The space between them crackled with electricity; it was almost as though a sort of chemical reaction would take place, if they stood together for too long.

“Goodnight,” Fillmore said, voice barely above a whisper.

Come inside, Sarge wanted to say. Let me have this.

Instead, he echoed: “Goodnight.”

The motel room door felt more like a mental barrier than anything else. Outside, there was Fillmore: beautiful, tragically attractive, kiss burning like cigarette ashes on bare fingers. Inside, Sarge was alone with his thoughts: Lead not into temptation: deliver us from Evil.

Temptation lived across the street, in a multicolored geodome. He smelled like smoke, listened to rock and roll, and dropped acid. Temptation had wandering hands and pearlescent teeth, and kissed like he really meant it.

. . .

Perhaps his dishonorable discharge from the military was God’s way of punishing him. It certainly seemed that way, when everything in Sarge’s life was going wrong.

That’s why he found it so, incredibly easy to give in to proverbial temptation. He slept with Fillmore, very shortly after everything happened. If God had already forsaken him, then there was no returning. It was strange, really, for something so incredible to be considered unholy.

The terror of it all caught up to him eventually. You have not sinned unless you act upon it.

He spilled his heart on accident, begging Fillmore to understand: It’s not normal—none of this is! This wasn’t supposed to happen—not to me, not to you, not to anyone…!

“It’s wrong, you know that?” he finished, breathless. “It’s wrong.”

Fillmore looked back at him earnestly. His devil-horns were missing, now; he looked back at Sarge apologetically, sympathetically.

“It’s not wrong,” Fillmore said quietly. “It’s just… human nature.” He offered a smile, squeezing Sarge’s hand, “There’s nothing wrong about love.”

. . .

“I think I prayed for you,” Fillmore was saying, in his trademark corniness. “I asked for happiness, and I ended up with you.”

Sarge wouldn’t exactly call it dating, but he would call it love. It was tumultuous and rocky—never perfect—but it was theirs. He’d been seeing Fillmore for the better part of three years, now. It had never felt like sinning.

Sarge began to think that his personal heaven was something like this: sitting close to one another, sharing a cigarette, talking quietly. He would exist in these moments forever, if he could.

“I thought you didn’t believe in God,” Sarge finally replied.

“I don’t,” Fillmore said. He rested his head back on the pillow, sighing heavily. “You know there’s other stuff to pray to, right?”

“… Such as?”

Fillmore looked back at him as though it was obvious. “The universe,” he replied. “Who do you think controls the tarot cards?”

“I don’t think tarot cards are real, in the first place.”

“Ugh. Whatever, man.”

Though they had their issues, Sarge did love him. This is something that he would not deny: sometimes, he liked to think that they would grow old together. Perhaps they’d still play their drinking games at the local bar, or they’d do the Sunday crossword together down at the diner. But they’d still be them, through everything.

That, in itself, was enough to put Sarge at ease. Perhaps this was worth it, between heaven and hell combined.

Lord, Fillmore was certainly rubbing off on him.

. . .

Parson County, Ohio, had gone largely unchanged in the years that Sarge was gone. The high school had begun to fall into a state of slight disrepair, and the downtown strip had aged considerably; though, frankly, it probably always looked like that.

He had not returned to his family home since he left for his second tour in Vietnam, now about six years ago. It looked mostly as he remembered it: painted blue, with white shutters and a picket fence, and enough room for the dogs to run outside. His childhood bedroom had gone unchanged as well: football pennants and photographs still hung from the walls, and his bookbag was still discarded in the corner.

Family dinner was something he had somewhat dreaded, upon his return. His father stared calculatingly at him, one eyebrow raised.

“So, you’ve been out of the military for three years,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“You haven’t settled down with anyone, have you?” His father looked at him knowingly, “No old lady helping out around that surplus shop of yours?”

Sarge swallowed thickly. “No,” he said, and it was only a partial lie.

“Mm-hm.” He nodded, unconvinced, “Well, we’re waiting on some grandchildren, so—"

“Thomas,” His mother interrupted dotingly.

. . .

That evening, Sarge returned to the church. It loomed over him imposingly; the door creaked in the same fashion as he entered, and the light in the confession booth was still on.

This time, he did not go to the booth: instead, he approached the pulpit, looking up to the crucified statue of Jesus. It stared back at him almost expectantly, as though it was waiting for him to atone. He did not pretend to pray; in fact, he’d probably forgotten how.

He thought of Gerry Oswald, of Fillmore, of smoking cigarettes and the dull flame of a Zippo lighter. He thought of confessionals in boxes and bars, and acting upon temptation.

I have not sinned by loving.

[whitehairandtraumatized-bracket]

White Hair and Trauma Brawl Round 1; Poll 17

remember, voting is based on swag, trauma, and favoritism!!

trauma and propaganda under the cut!

Trauma! 

Ginko: “When he was a kid, his mom died in a landslide and he wandered into this lady's house who took him in and taught him about little spiritual things called Mushi. However, there was a particularly dangerous type that lived in the pond by her house, and she had been studying them. He snuck out to see, too, and got caught in it, and her last words to him to save him were to keep one eye closed to sacrifice the other to the Mushi and remember just One Thing to make it out of the darkness. He ended up forgetting everything, including his own name, only remembering the name of the Mushi itself, Ginko, which he took as his own name afterward. He's like a Mushi magnet now.”

“his mom died in a landslide when he was a kid and then he was found and adopted by a woman who shortly thereafter ALSO died, and in that same incident he lost an eyeball, his melanin and most of his memories. including his own name. hes fine though”

Kuguri: When he was studying piano in Europe he fell in love with a classmate and right before a big recital he had his flight changed so he could be with his crush (he is incredibly gay btw) and that flight ended up crashing, killing his crush and requiring Kuguri to have both arms amputated. 

Kuguri’s Full Official Submission with citations of his novel and everything: “Okay I have. Way more to say than I could feasibly fit in the submission box…”

Propaganda!

Ginko: “He is a very chill guy that despite his situation, takes great care in studying and learning about Mushi and safely coexisting with them. He helps a lot of people who are troubled by them throughout the show and it's bittersweet but heartwarming that he cares to help strangers so much despite losing his own past like he did.”

“hes so awesome and yes he smokes weed”

Kuguri: Canonically does not believe in heterosexuality, always serving cunt, got arrested for incitement.

[my-rewrite-academia]

Week 25 (Training Camp - Part 2):

Training Time!

The morning after the Sauna Incident™, 1-B, (half of them, anyway), wake up at 7 AM, only to find that the 1-A students are already out of bed. Vlad King takes them outside for training after breakfast, revealing that 1-A have been awake since 5 AM, and are in the middle of training.

Yuuga trains his endurance by blasting his navel laser into the air repetitively, until he eventually throws up, takes a five minute break, and returns to doing it again.

Tsuyu strengthens her limbs to maximise her flexibility and agility, as well as how far her tongue can stretch and how much it can lift.

Tooru uses her quirk to heat up a pot of water until it boils, then cool it until it freezes. When she isn't doing that, she's learning how to silence her breathing and steps with Aizawa.

Kyouka strengthens her earlobes by penetrating stone, and trying to create as many vibrations as she can within each jab.

Kouji screams into the forest, increasing the output of his voice, basically learning how to create noises at a pitch only animals can hear.

Izuku trains with Tiger to strengthen his reaction time, speed, strength, and his thinking on the fly, as he has no quirk to train.

Minoru peels off ball after ball on his scalp, even when he bleeds, to propagate healing to allow the balls to keep its adhesiveness longer, and to make more grow.

Hanta shoots his tape as far as it can go, then some more, as well as using his tape to pull increasingly heavier objects. On the side, Aizawa helps him learn how to navigate dense areas.

Mezou trains his senses to the max, having Tooru help him when she can, and he trains how fast he can change each limb to an eye, an ear, a mouth, or hands.

Momo is tasked with creating as many items as she can, only allowed to eat after she's exhausted her quirk to its theoretical limit, to help increase her load.

1-B are already terrified at the sight of them, and that fear is only strengthened when Vlad grins down at them, declaring that it's their turn.

Yosetsu welds objects together, both organic and non-organic, bettering his reaction time and speed of welding.

Manga creates as many onomatopoeia as he can, each different from the previous, to increase his palette and reduce the time between each creation.

Juuzou has a mountain-side for his use, having to soften the ground but halt it in time to not cause a landslide, to help his control.

Yui is faced with many objects, having to resize them, some giant and some tiny. Her goal is to make an object the size of the house and one the size of an ant, potentially smaller.

Shihai has to merge with shadows from the forest, slowly working his way into the lighter shadows until he cannot feel any sort of pull, and push for it anyway.

Neitou's main goal is to juggle through everyone's quirks, (those he can copy, in any case), without gaining any information from the person as to how to use their quirk.

Tetsutetsu strengthens his hardening with help from Pixie-Bob's quirk, as she has golems attack Tetsutetsu at each end, until he cannot hold it up any longer.

Reikou moves as many objects as she can, pushing past her weight limit, and increasing the velocity of which she can move them.

Pony has to increase how far she can throw her horns, as well as how much they can carry, using boulders and tree trunks to aid her.

It's a hell of a time, but it'll be worth it – to become stronger.

-

During one of Izuku's breaks, he takes the chance to observe his classmates, mind busy with two different things. Kouta, and All for One.

Kouta is hostile to anyone and everyone, and he nearly seriously injured himself just the day before in the sauna. Shortly after he brought him, (and Minoru), to the infirmary, he managed to ask Mandalay about Kouta, and was told about his parents. The Water Hose heroes, killed in duty when Kouta was only three. Mandalay had considered it a noble way to go, especially for a hero. But Sosaki Shino has always wished they ran away instead.

It's not heroic. In fact, some would even call it cowardly. But she would rather they be alive than to die, selfish as it is. They died saving people, which is a pretty good way to go. Kouta, however, has never seen it like that. He didn't know his parents as heroes, he only saw them as his parents. To him, they chose to die as heroes, than to live on as his parents.

When he was told, Izuku didn't know how to feel. On one hand, as heroes, it's their job to put their lives on the line and fight for those who can't fight for themselves… On the other hand, when do heroes stop being heroes and start being human? When is it okay for them to admit defeat? Will it ever be okay?

He sees Kouta's hostility now, and he doesn't see a volatile brat. He sees a damaged boy, who has no idea how to grieve in a world where his parents' deaths were called noble rather than tragic.

… Then, of course, there's the conversation with All Might. About All for One.

It's been on his mind since that day, really. Someone who could take and give quirks as he desired. It's cruel to take others' quirks, yet Izuku knows that the him of last year would have given anything to have a quirk of his own. It plagues him: this question of if he would have taken a quirk a year ago, given the chance, if only so he had a shot of making it into a hero school.

As he thinks about it, his eyes flicker around his friends and classmates, observing their quirks, and just imagining for a moment. What would happen if he got any of their quirks? Most of their quirks only worked with them because of their secondary or tertiary quirks. Everyone had some form of them; even the quirkless had them. 

Unnatural hair, eyes, and skin were often tertiary – barely considered a quirk considering how normal it all was now. Secondary quirks often allowed the main quirk to function as they do. Tsuyu's biology allows the merging of a frog's, specifically with the stomach and joints. Tooru's biology allows her body to handle radiation at such a high level. Kyouka's ears resisting loud noises, unable to be ruptured by her own sounds. Kouji's larynx allows him to reach such high decibels, his voice louder than what is usual – if not for his larynx, he wouldn't be able to use his quirk at all.

Of course, it's not infallible. Quirk backlash is still a thing. Ochako becomes nauseous after using her quirk more than she can; Tenya's legs cramp up after a while of using his engines, and they can overheat; Shouto can get both hypothermia and hyperthermia if he's not careful. It's like straining a muscle after overworking. Quirk backlash only occurs after strenuous use, due to the secondary quirk supporting it. 

If Izuku received any of their quirks, there would be nothing to support his usage of it. Heck, he'd just end up like Yuuga, who can't use his quirk for more than a second without risking damage to his… body…

Izuku's mind races, eyeing Yuuga as he crumples, face scrunched as he fires into the sky, legs shaking horribly, mouth crusted with vomit, eyes red. 

… The human body isn't designed to support any quirk other than your own. The noumus proved that. Quirk backlash certainly exists, but not to this extent. Not unless the quirk is either incredibly destructive… or if the quirk doesn't suit the user's body. 

There was a meeting. Shortly after the USJ incident. Midnight hadn't been there. No, it was Mic. Before he started the meeting, he had warned them that the contents may induce paranoia, and specifically warned Izuku that he wouldn't like the implications. Fool that he is, he stayed. 

And he was informed of a traitor.

It had taken all of his strength to not reveal it to his classmates, and take the burden onto himself. They didn't need to spend every minute together suspecting others of betraying them, of betraying their trust. Izuku had spent those weeks leading up to the Sports Festival examining each of his classmates, including 1-B. 'Just in case,' he swore to himself, as if didn't know what that case was.

He… He had to tell Mic, when they got back. It was nothing definitive, and he'll have to keep All for One out of it, but even a small chance meant so much more. 

Hopefully, it's just a coincidence. If not, then… then he'll deal with it when the time comes.

-

During the night, Kouta disappears. Mandalay isn't too concerned, as Ragdoll can still feel him within her radius, faint as it is, but Izuku is. It's dinner, and he didn't see Kouta eat anything, distracted as he may have been. So, he finds an insulated bento box, fills it with the curry whipped up with the might of Tsuyu, Izuku, Hanta, Yui, and Neitou. 

It takes far longer than he thought it would, but he manages to find Kouta on the mountainside. 

"It's cold, you know."

Kouta shrieks, throwing out some water from his hands as he does. It does little, splashing on Izuku's shoes. He regains his sense of sense shortly after, hugging his knees and glaring at Izuku. "What do you want? How did you find me? Stalker."

Izuku brushes the insult off, approaching him with the bento. "I want to give you some food. I found you by looking around – it took me thirty minutes. This is a good hiding spot."

Kouta rolls his eyes. "It only takes ten minutes to get here. And go away. I'm not hungry." Betraying him, his stomach grumbles.

Izuku doesn't bring any attention to it, only opening the bento. "In that case, then I guess I can eat it," he teases, unwrapping the tissue holding a spoon. "Ah, I can't wait! This curry is so delicious! Mild but with that amazing tang. A hint of apple to add some sweetness to it!" He scoops some rice with the curry, bringing it to his mouth. "Aaaaahhh–"

Kouta, face red, grabs the spoon and shoves it in his own mouth. Izuku smiles as Kouta takes the bento off him, eating with vigour. "… It's good," he mumbles, eating it until it's all gone. 

"…" Izuku takes a deep breath, scooting closer to Kouta. "Mandalay-san told me about your parents."

"Huh!?" Kouta glares at him. "… Why does that matter? No, let me guess: you think they died a noble and heroic death, huh? That I should be proud of them!? Is that it!?"

"I'm sorry," Izuku says instead, silencing Kouta. "I'm sorry that happened to them, and to you. None of you deserved it." 

Kouta is stupefied. "Why… Why are you sorry? Everyone…" He looks down, hands balling into fists. "Everyone always says that they were heroes. That they died as heroes. To save people… If they really cared, then… Then!" He shakes his head, tears in his eyes. "Then why did they leave me!?"

Izuku jolts. Of things he expected, it wasn't that.

"Why did they care about a bunch of strangers more than their own son!? Why did they care more about being heroes than loving me!?" 

'Oh,' Izuku realises. This is a child. This is a young boy in front of him. A kid who wasn't allowed to grieve or mourn his parents, for the world around him commended their deaths. A kid who doesn't know how to handle loss, for the world around didn't see it as one. They call it glory in death, a heroic sacrifice. Anything but a tragedy. 

This is a boy trying to make sense of something that has no explanation.

"Kouta-kun…"

"Don't!" Kouta snaps, eyes and nose red. "All you heroes are the same! Keep saying you want to save people, but you don't even think about the ones you leave behind. I hate you. I hate you all! Leave me alone!" He throws another ball of water, striking Izuku in the face.

Izuku doesn't bother dodging, or trying to wipe it off. Instead, he collects the empty bento. "For what it's worth," he says as he leaves, "I don't think your parents wanted to die. I don't think they wanted to leave you." 

Kouta jumps, and Izuku smiles at him.

"I think they were trying to make a safer world for you."

-

Roguish Interception

Skipping through the dense streets of Tokyo, one Toga Himiko is on her way to the Rogue's base of operations. Yes, there's a bit of blood on her, stuck between her teeth, but that isn't so important. What is important is a certain someone she spots walking into an inconspicuous bar. Her first thought is, 'wow, I didn't realise our bases were so close together.' Her next thought is that she should probably tail them.

That feeling only doubles when she sees three others walk in, two of them she recognises as pretty well known villains. And if they're with Tomura, then the League of Villains are making their move.

Sneaking by, she stays as close as she can without being spotted, shoving metal rod between the door as it closes, keeping it slightly open for her to hear.

It's not entirely clear, but it's enough. 

With new information in hand, Himiko turns away. As a Rogue, she will follow her beloved Stain's footsteps, and fighting against the League of Villains, whom Stain proclaimed to be wrong, is her first step. Their first step.

-

The second day passes, then the third, fourth, and, finally, the fifth. All goes as normal: wake up, eat, train, eat, train, eat, sleep. Well, it would have gone as normal, except for that last bit about sleeping.

Instead, they have a test of courage. A fine test for heroes. 1-B are up for scaring first, and 1-A will do the scaring afterwards. The Pussy Cats are all in different points in the forest, with Ragdoll at the start. They're all paired up, making for five pairs. Izuku choses Yuuga as his pair, keeping an eye on him, especially with how nervous Yuuga appears to be. He claims that he doesn't do well with horror, but Izuku can imagine another reason. 

The pairs are: Yuuga & Izuku, Tsuyu & Kouji, Tooru & Mezou, Kyouka & Momo, and Minoru & Hanta. 

Minoru and Hanta go up first, with Minoru clinging onto Hanta for dear life. They disappear into the forest, and Minoru's screams echo in the night, followed by giggling and laughter from the 1-B students. 

After two minutes, Kyouka and Momo enter, Momo shyly admitting that she's bad with horror. Kyouka teases her, stating that she'll protect her honour. They go in, and it's a boy who screams first, followed by Momo's incessant apologies. When she said she's bad with horror, she meant she chooses fight over flight.

Tooru and Mezou go in and, only a minute later, there's a shriek. "Sensei!" Tooru screams, unseen. "There's something wrong!"

Aizawa stirs, hand on his scarf. Nearby, Ragdoll gasps. "Intruders!" she declares, Search reaching all around her. "Unknown individuals have arrived on the site!" 

Izuku and the remaining three stiffen. Aizawa curses under his breath. "Find Mandalay," he says to Ragdoll. "Have her inform the students." He turns to his students. "Do not do any reckless."

As Izuku is about to agree, he remembers the time. More specifically, he remembers who always disappears around this time, for the past five days. "Sensei, Kouta-kun! He's not here – he's up in the mountains!" 

Ragdoll frowns. "How likely is he to be found?"

"Likely," Izuku reports. "Especially if they're not walking."

"… Ugh." Aizawa palms his face. "Midoriya. Get to Kouta. Take your weapons. Do not engage unless necessary."

"Yes, sensei!" Izuku doesn't waste a moment, and Tsuyu helps. As soon as Izuku comes back with his weapons, Tsuyu grabs him with her tongue and gets up high. Izuku immediately points in the direction, needing no prompting.

"Good luck," Tsuyu says, before throwing him far away in that direction. He runs, and runs, desperate, praying to any God out there that Kouta is okay.

-

Ragdoll runs off shortly after, focusing on the energy she knows belongs to Mandalay. Aizawa, meanwhile, stays behind with the kids, reluctantly allowing Tsuyu, Yuuga, and Kouji to aid him if necessary. 

It takes only a minute before something happens. Two marbles land by them. Aizawa's first instinct is to push the kids behind him, activating Erasure at the objects.

"Now, now," a voice says, from the trees behind him. "I was under the impression that your quirk does not work on objects." The man, Mr. Compress, snaps his fingers and the marbles glow, disappearing to leave behind a burly woman, Magne, and a blonde teenager, Himiko.

"Bit tacky," Magne remarks, not bothering to even look at Aizawa or the kids. "This ain't the League, Compress."

"I'm aware," Compress says, twinkling. "But Spinner-kun did request that we protect the students, so long as they aren't posers."

"Don't worry!" Himiko sings, knives glinting in the moonlight. "You guys look super cute. Especially you," she waltzes up to Tsuyu, who instinctively backs away, Aizawa stepping in to shield her. "Aw, don't worry! I'd say I don't bite, but that would be lying. But I did make a promise not to hurt anyone Spinny doesn't want me to."

"Who are you?" Aizawa says, cutting to the chase. "Are you part of the League of Villains? What are your intentions with my students?"

Mr. Compress jumps from the tree, landing strongly on his feet. "We are not part of that group. In fact, we are here today to take them down, and to protect your students as much as we can. As for who we are…" 

A pillar of blue flames rises in the distance, colouring the trio in a blue light.

"We are the Blemished Rogues."

-

My Hero

Kouta said it takes ten minutes to get to the mountain-side. It probably does for a little boy. For Izuku, however? Now that he knows how to get there, it doesn't take thirty minutes. It takes six. 

Six minutes is a lot when it comes to a fight, which is exactly what he comes upon when he arrives.

Kouta by a villain, muscles wrapped around his limbs, creating a dense weapon and shield that could break from nothing. Muscles on their own are soft, but when they've been layered like so, it becomes a lot harder.

"You killed them!" Kouta is screaming, and Izuku runs as fast as he can. "You killed my parents! You're the reason they're gone!"

Muscular, the villain, only laughs, full of sadistic glee. "I did!" he declares, like one would present a trophy. "Your parents gave me this eye, you know? Hurt like a bitch." He squeezes Kouta tighter, who screams, unable to thrash in such a tight grip. "And they died just like this. Crying, screaming, and pathetic."

"Shut up…!" Kouta gasps, tears falling from his eyes, splashing Muscular to no avail. "Shut up! Don't you dare talk about them! They… They were my parents! Give them back!"

"Don't worry, brat." Muscular chuckles, squeezing tighter. "I'm sending you to them!"

Izuku remembers Aizawa's orders. Do not engage unless necessary.

It seems pretty necessary.

Unsheathing his katana, he rushes in, blade at the ready, and he cleaves into Muscular's arm.

Muscular screams, letting go of Kouta in his fit of pain. Izuku aims his grappling hook, shooting it onto the edge, and grabbing onto Kouta. As Muscular regains his barings, Izuku jumps off the cliff, Kouta in a fireman hold in his arm, the rope lowering them down the mountain as fast as he can without harming either of them.

"M… Midoriya…" Kouta croaks, body bruised, face streaky with tears. "You came for me?"

"Of course!" Izuku says, kicking off a bit of the wall, away from the slope of it. "I'm not a hero yet, but I don't have to be one to save someone in need!" 

As he says that, Muscular cries out atop the cliff, and punches straight into the ground, right where Izuku's hook is tethered. It comes off, snapping back to Izuku's wrist.

Cursing, he grabs Kouta with both arms, tucking him in as they fall onto the sloping terrain, rolling across it. He yells out in pain at each drop, Kouta screaming in fear, until they finally land on grass – by the edge of the forest. 

"Crap…" Izuku mutters, body battered and bruised. 

Kouta grabs onto Izuku's shirt. "Midoriya! Midoriya! Are you okay?" 

Izuku coughs wetly, and he's sure he may have punctured a lung, which means a broken rib. It takes a great amount of effort, but he manages to get up, feeling a bit ashamed as Kouta helps him. "We have to go," he says, instead of answering Kouta's question. "He's going to follow us and–"

"Midoriya!?" From the forest emerges Neitou, along with Reikou. "What the hell happened to you?" Neitou asks.

"Not important," he stresses, Kouta looking between them with wide eyes. "Villains are here. We need to get back to Aizawa-sensei!"

A loud bang. Dirt thrown up from the landing. Muscular emerges from the cloud of dirt, right behind Neitou and Reikou, pissed as his arm bleeds sluggishly. 

"You brat," Muscular growls. "You'll pay for this!" 

Neitou and Reikou step back, falling into a stance. "Nevermind," Neitou says, grinning nervously. "I think I have my answer now."

"Kouta-kun," Izuku says, drawing his katana once more. "Get behind us. Find some shelter."

"But–!"

"Don't worry." He smiles. "We won't die."

Kouta bites his bottom lip. "You better not!" He turns to run away.

Muscular reaches out to him, and Reikou reacts first, pulling on his tightly wound muscles, ripping them from his skin. "I don't think so," she states, cold and certain. "You'll have to go through us!"

"You bitch!" Muscular screeches. Neitou taps Reikou's skin. "I'll kill you!"

"Will you now!?" Neitou pulls too, just as Reikou does, working in tandem to unravel his muscles. To their credit, they only cringe at the sheer amount of blood that spills as they do so. 

Muscular screams, his agonised shrieks echoing. But, he grits his teeth, grinning crazily. "I get it. I get it!" He grunts, stumbling back. "You brats… You can't use that telekinesis to lift a human, right!?" Reikou clicks her tongue. "I'm right! In other words…" He reels his fist back, moving towards Reikou. "You can't stop me from killing you."

"They can't," Izuku says, breathing raggedly as he angles his katana, "but I can!" He steps forth, aiming low, and he cuts right across Muscular's achilles tendon on both ankles. As he imagined it would, Muscular falls to his knees, unable to support his legs. "Yanagi-san! We need something to keep him down!"

"On it!"

Muscular roars with rage, lashing out and grabbing Izuku's arm, entwining muscles around both of them. Neitou immediately tries to pull his muscles out, only for Muscular to both create more and swipe a leg under Neitou's, tripping him up, and pinning him down with the same leg, blood dripping all over Neitou's chest.

"You…" Izuku grits his teeth, dropping his katana. If he was in costume, he could use his arm brace to cut the muscles from within. Unfortunately, he's not in costume. He's only got his grappling hook and katana, the latter of which is on the floor. 

As such, he goes for a different method, wrapping his fingers around Muscular's prosthetic eye and pulling. 

It's gruesome and bloody and downright cruel, but there's no time to consider the morality of it as the eye comes out, Muscular writhes and screams in agony, snapping Izuku's wrist as he does. Neitou reaches out with Reikou's quirk, dragging Muscular's back muscles to the ground, and Reikou reaches under the ground, pulling the roots of trees, dragging and warping them until they fit around Muscular's build, tying him to the ground. 

In the end, Muscular succumbs to the pain and passes out, muscles retracting and forcing Reikou to tighten the roots around him. 

Izuku falls to the ground, wrist firmly broken, and it hurts like hell, but he can't stop now. They still have to get Kouta to safety. 

"Come on, Midoriya," Neitou encourages, his chest still feeling heavy with the imprint of Muscular's foot. "We need to get out of here."

"Yeah," Izuku grunts, his breaths short and wet. He coughs and, lo and behold, blood comes out with it. "C-Crap," he says, grabbing at his shirt with his relatively uninjured hand, pulling at it to no avail. "Gotta… splint my wrist."

"Don't speak," Reikou orders, pale from both the events of the fight and how beaten Izuku and Neitou are. "Hey, kid!" she yells, for Kouta. "It's safe now! We gotta get outta here!" 

Kouta peeks his head out from a corner, face wet with tears, and nods shakily, running up to join them.

Neitou takes Izuku's shirt, ripping off the edges. "I'll splint this. I'm no pro, but I know a bit about first aid." He taps Reikou again to replenish her quirk, using it to rip some barks off a tree and wind the cloth around it and Izuku's wrist, pushing on even when Izuku's grimaces and grunts at the pain. It takes a minute, maybe less, then they're back on their feet, re-entering the forest with a single goal in mind.

Get to safety.

-

Anti-Villain

As Izuku, Neitou, and Reikou fight Muscular, some of them are caught unaware as a sadistic, cannibalistic villain finds them: Moonfish. 

Juuzou and Manga, ready to scare some 1-A students, Momo and Kyouka, trying to not throw hands at a jumpscare. As Kyouka and Momo walk by, Juuzou and Manga are ready to scare them… Until someone else does it for them.

Blades shooting from the forest, stabbing right where Momo and Kyouka would be, had Kyouka not heard the rustling of the leaves and pushed herself and Momo out of the way. 

"What the hell!?" Kyouka snaps. "Who's putting up lethal scares!?"

"We didn't!" Juuzou rushes to assure, stepping out of his hiding space. "None us are aiming to hurt you. That wasn't us."

"Then," Momo says, creating an object in her hand, "it must be an outsider." She tosses the object, battery-powered lights, catching them on the branches. Moonfish stands there, straight-jacket firmly strapped around his body, a dazed look in his eyes. 

"Who are you?" Juuzou asks, summoning as much bravery as he can. "Depending on your answer, we'll either take you down, or escort you out of the premises."

Instead of a straight answer, Moonfish watches them, bloodlust wafting from him. "Yes… Yes, this is good… No, not good. Not here. Can't find them… But this is good for me… Your flesh… will help me concentrate." He chuckles, manic despite how low it is. It sends shivers up the quartets' spines. "I am Moonfish. You are my meals."

His teeth glisten, and blades shoot from them, precise and sharp. Juuzou falls to the ground, slamming his hands on the floor and softening the ground beneath Moonfish. Moonfish dodges, using his teeth blades to propel him up. 

Momo creates a shield over one arm, and creates a bola in her other hand. With a wind-up, she tosses it up at Moonfish, aiming at his feet, only for him to use his teeth to block it, sending others at Momo, who blocks it with her shield, taken by surprise at how strong they are. 

Manga goes next, as Moonfish lands on the ground, yelling out 'FWOOSH!', creating a large amount of wind underneath Moonfish's landing, destabilising him.

Seeing this, Kyouka shoves her lobes into the ground, sending a harsh vibration into the Earth and directing it towards Moonfish. He responds by trying to use his teeth on the ground to push himself to safety, only for those vibrations to carry into his teeth, to his gums, to his head, to his brain. 

He warbles in pain, wobbling as he slowly pushes himself up. Juuzou tries to take the chance to soften the terrain underneath him, only for Moonfish to, without an issue, shoot his teeth at Juuzou, stabbing into his arm. Juuzou reels back, and the teeth retract, Juuzou's blood coming with it.

"Perfect," he moans, licking up every bit of blood, much to the groups' horror and disgust. "No, not perfect. I need to concentrate. Need to find the kid… Need… I need flesh…" He grins, laughing crazily. "I need your flesh!"

Teeth-blades shoot in every which direction, forcing everyone to dodge, including Kyouka, resulting in her lobes coming out of the ground, though they can't escape all of them, blades cutting into their flesh. Before anyone can react, Moonfish is already up, leaping up to the trees, cackling madly and each of them bleed, his blades catching a good portion of it. He licks it all, savouring each bit.

"So delicious… So good. Give it to me…! Give me your bodies! Your blood, your flesh, your bones. I need it!"

"You need to cool down." 

All four of them turn, just as a burst of blue flames shoot out, slamming into Moonfish and sorching him.

"You're way too hot-headed." Dabi snorts, hand outstretched. "Get it?"

None of them can answer. Instead, they prepare to fight against him, four against two. Or one, maybe.

"Who are you?" Moonfish asks, head tilting all around. "You're not in the League… You… Why are you stopping me?" His voice pitches up, psychotic. "This isn't fair. I need their flesh. I need it. Why are you stopping me?"

Dabi shrugs. "I'd say it's nothing personal, but I'd be damned if you don't freak me out." Blue erupts from his hands once more, and Moonfish dodges this time, now aware of the threat. "I have a… special interest in keeping these kids alive. And taking you fuckers down."

"In that case," Momo turns away from Dabi, "I can assume you're on our side?"

"Probably."

"Good." Momo holds her shield up, empty hand at the ready. "Then, as they say, I'll leave my back to you."

Dabi grins. "Got it, ojou-chan."

Moonfish strikes, a large-scale attack, and Manga responds with a loud, "THUNK! BAM! CLANG!", creating a wall of words to block the attack. As he does, Juuzou gets to the tree, softening the material and forcing Moonfish off it. Kyouka creates vibrations in the ground to trip him up, Momo getting in close with her shield, and creating a jar of acid and shattering it on Moonfish's teeth, corroding and eating away at it.

"Dodge!" Dabi yells, and Momo barely gets out of the way in time for a haze of flames to attack Moonfish. 

He screeches, teeth-blades snapping off with a "BANG!" from Manga, body burning from Dabi's flames. Momo backs up, creating a gas bomb with chloroform and chucking it at Moonfish, before running back, creating five gas-masks and passing them to the others. As soon as they put it on, the bomb goes off, chloroform erupting from it. 

Moonfish writhes, lolling from side to side, before creating more teeth-blades, the ends jagged and burnt from Momo's acid, and twisting it around, and around, until the chloroform clears away. But, it did its work – he's dazed. Dazed enough for Dabi to land a perfect strike of flames, right at his chest and face, searing the clothes off and attacking the skin.

Faced with this torment of pain, Moonfish collapses to the ground, Juuzou softening it up and solidifying it to trap him in the mud. 

Dabi approaches him, glaring down at him. "You know, they say that burns are one of the most painful injuries you can get." He smirks sardonically, pushing his foot against Moonfish's burnt face. "Especially second degree burns," which he made sure to give him, "on the hands, feet, and the face. Until those heal, you'll be in complete agony." He digs his foot in deeper, reveling in Moonfish's sob of pain. "But I think this is a more fitting punishment."

A spark of flame, straight into Moonfish's open mouth, kissing his tongue and burning. No, not burning, torching. Moonfish shrieks, thrashing in his bonds.

"What are you doing!?" Kyouka snaps. "Stop it!"

"Too late," Dabi states, hands in his pockets. "His tongue's already burnt. For good fucking reason."

Momo's eyes narrow. "A good reason? There's no good reason to torture someone!"

He sighs, rolling his eyes. "You kids don't know shit about the real world. Besides, unless you can think of a better fitting punishment for a damn cannibal, you can't say shit about my methods."

"A cannibal?" Juuzou asks faintly. "I mean, I kind of got those vibes with all the crap he was saying, but he actually…"

"Ate someone?" They flinch at Dabi's straight-forwardness. "Yeah. He's pretty well-known among villains for being a disgusting freak. With that tongue of his," he grins sadistically, "he'll never be able to taste anything. Not even his favourite meal."

Manga shakes his head. "Even so… he won't be able to eat humans in prison. You didn't need to go that far."

"Prison's a short-term solution," Dabi rebukes. "Now, even if he breaks out, he can't do it again. Or, at least, he can't gain the same pleasure of doing it again."

They're still not convinced. But that's honestly the least of their worries right now. The League are here, and they're far more competent this time around.

-

Notes:

ABOUT IZUKU FIGURING IT OUT: He's only able to figure it out because All Might told him about All for One's quirk, and because he knows a lot about quirk science. Additionally, if Yuuga hadn't been in sight while he was thinking about it, it would have taken him longer to put the pieces together

Kouta!! I always felt like his trauma was just poorly handled in canon. Mandalay basically just says that he'll understand why heroes put their lives on the line, and that isn't a healthy way to deal with a kid's trauma. Empathy works wonders, and Izuku has plenty to spare

The Rogues!! I was actually really excited to get to this. The difference between heroes and vigilantes isn't just that a hero follows the laws, but that vigilantes have more gray morality than black and white, and that is personified in Dabi especially

Izuku finally broke a bone. Canon Izuku would be so proud

Conclusion:

Izuku places suspicion on Yuuga and his quirk

The LOV attacks the camp, and the Blemished Rogues intercept them

Muscular is beaten by Izuku, Yanagi, and Neitou

Moonfish who is taken down by Momo, Kyouka, Juuzou and Manga, with Dabi's help

[egomanicplanetv2]

The "In the closet" incident

FANFIC TIME!!!

THIS HAS SMUT!! NO MINORS ALLOWED! GOT IT?!

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Peepers groaned, tired as hell. He tried to reach the alarm clock. His short arm helplessly swung until it hit the alarm, turning it off. He laid there for a moment, his singular eye buried in the pillow. Then sighed. He pulled himself up, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom attached to his quaint room. He rubbed the sleep from his eye, dragging his feet. 5 am. Peepers always got up early since he was the main brain of the hater empire. He had to do a few things, he thought over them as he opened his jaw. 

The pupil of his eye head cracking open, exposing his mouth a rare sight as he brushed his teeth and tongue. He had quite a few things he did today, make breakfast for lord hater. Wake up lord hater for aforementioned breakfast. Give lord hater the rundown of the schedule which hater never listened too. Then start his work, train the newer watchdogs in the training room. Deal with the files that got unsorted after wander’s last visit. Then last and not least paperwork. Peepers starred in the mirror. Hopefully, nothing went wrong, but that was unlikely. After all, there had been a recent wrench thrown in his plans.

Alice The Star Destroyer. After the issue with Lord Dominator, a legendary overpowered hero arrives in the galaxy. Her name was Alice, despite her being loved and admired by the public and flaunted on the galaxy news as the so-called Starlight Warrior. She had many secrets some peepers had uncovered. After she met the lord hater, she challenged him to a ridiculous game of go-fish. She won by a landslide and her goal? Living on the Skullship for free, Hater agreed surprisingly on one condition. She would work sometimes on the ship, she happily agreed. She began living in the room across from peeper’s. A distance away from the other watchdog’s own barracks. 

The issue with Alice is, she’s obnoxious, loud, she acts like she owns the place, and she teases peepers constantly. Peepers put on his uniform as he thought about his relationship with Alice. She, despite being annoying, was hot to peepers. That absurd amount of power she held she could snap him in half in seconds and knew it. It was alluring. After that, she lived with them for a year. She and Peepers somehow started hooking up. She was always rough and peepers loved it. The adrenaline he felt knowing she could do anything and he would have to comply, no matter what. It was amazing. Of course, the fact Alice was transgender was a shock at first. She kept it a secret from everyone in the galaxy. So the fact he was the only one who saw her face, knew her body, and could make her snap was exhilarating.

Peepers was now dressed, looking spick and span. So he walked out the door only to come face to face with the person in his thoughts as she left her own room. He looked up at the 6ft 7 barbarian and glared. “Alice.” he said. She smiled and replied, sounding happy as always, but he could hear the underlying annoyance “good morning, commander” They both walked, heading for the private kitchen side by side. Peepers couldn't help but look at her. Other than being freakishly tall, she had a lot of characteristics that made her stand out. Mid tone gray skin, pointed elf-like ears, and that mask she never took off around others, the bright white of that star-shaped mask that covered her eyes and forehead annoyed him. Her face was beautiful even. She just insisted on covering her third eye; he couldn't understand why.

She was already in her hero uniform, white rubber gloves, white gogo boots that were accompanied by a sleeveless turtleneck that showed her very pronounced muscular biceps. The shorts that clung to her hips and stopped right above her mid thigh were the garters she always had held up those thigh-high socks that squeezed her oh so perfectly. 

“Your staring Commander” she said, singing it teasingly. Peepers jumped. “Shut up." he grumbled, feeling a little hot after being caught. She laughed. “How cute, getting all shy on me now?” peepers rolled his eye and walked a little faster trying to avoid the situation despite them going to the same place. Alice just sped up a bit. Curse those long legs. “Running away now? How cowardly,” she said teasingly, and the peepers felt irritated. “I said shut up!! Stupid barbarian!” *she chuckled letting him run ahead into the kitchen.*

Time Skip

As the day continued, Peepers grew bored, doing all the tasks early until he was sitting in a meeting room doing a stack of paperwork for the ship’s finances. He looked up at the clock. It's 5:30 pm. There was a meeting at 6 on the dot. He had to get this done quickly. But lucky him, Alice walked in. “commander~” she sang, coming up behind his chair and blocking him so he couldn't get up "Yes Alice?” he said grumpily, not bothering to look up. That was until she leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Why don't you set the pen down for a moment, sugar?...” peepers turned slowly to her face, flushing. He knew what she wanted and because of that simple action of a sultry whisper, he was already growing hard. But he had work.

 “Alice, i can't right now, i-” she ran a hand over his thigh gently. “But commander, I'm so bored. Just a little? Please?” peepers was so close to giving in as always. The temptation of letting go of control for a moment, even if just a short one, was too much. “Fine, just a little b-” before he could even finish, he was on the table back to her as she quickly removed his uniform, unzipping the back and biting his nape before setting it on the table. Peepers let out a broken moan. “F-fuck~ Alice!” she licked at the mark she left and he couldn't help but let out a guttural moan* “Ooh Heavens~” She chuckled and pulled him to the edge of the table grinding her hard on against him* “Alice~!”

She was as rough as ever, grip on his hips almost punishing. “Yes, baby?” she said teasingly, knowing he couldn't respond as she pulled his hips up off the table with one hand and started to palm at his cock with the other. “Ahh!” He moaned, voice breaking and making Alice chuckle. “Well? What was it you wanted to say?” she teased and peepers whined in response. As he got used to the feelings she was blessing him with, he tried to speak. Only to feel saliva drip onto his ass as she set him down on the table and flipped him. He saw her smiling down with that cocky smirk. Her straining against the fabric of her shorts.

Then her finger rubbed over his bud. ‘Ready commander” she asked sweetly and peepers felt foggy, tempted and eager. “Yes plea-” then they heard voices approaching… the meeting at 6?!.. Oh shit. Alice looked around. Seeing a closet in the back of the room near the projector, she picked up peepers and hid. Forgetting about Peeper’s uniform entirely for a moment. Before the door closed, she saw it luckily. It was under the meeting room table. Hopefully, nobody saw it. As the watchdogs walked in, Alice and peppers exchanged a look of, “oh fuck. We're screwed.” 

After lord hater stepped into the meeting room, the room grew silent. “Where is Peepers?” he asked and all the watchdogs shrugged. Lord hater looked confused.. Peepers was always early to meetings; this was odd. Meanwhile, in the closet, Alice and Peepers were quietly sweating, terrified of what to do. All they could do was. Wait it out. Or get caught. Then peepers saw Alice smirk and pull him into her lap as they sat on the closet floor. Ooh god.. This  temptress. Alice was soon grinding her 7 inch cock between his thighs as the lord hater and the others waited for peepers to show. Unaware he was only a door away, trying his hardest to hold back moans as her cock ground against his with each moment.

“This is ridiculous, what could he possibly be doing?” hater complained., the watch dogs looked around unsure and wondering along with their peers. “Sir, maybe he got the day wrong?” *one watchdog suggested and hater rolled his eyes. “I doubt that. peepers wouldn't do that, or would he?” *hater questioned, tapping his chin. Meanwhile, peepers were getting close to cumming, the voices of haters and the watchdogs fading. Alice was smirking, watching his expression. peepers felt an odd sense of affection for Alice in moments like these, moments where he was in pure bliss, light-headed and feeling like he was ascending. He did something rare, he cradled his face in his hands, gently removing her mask. As soon as he saw those three beautiful eyes he was giving her a loving gaze. 

Alice stopped for a moment, staring in awe at Peeper's unusual reaction before she fluttered the lashes of her third eye against his. A show of affection for watchdogs. Peepers felt hot, maybe it was the cramped space. Or maybe it was the growing affection he felt as she started to lay him down and fuck his thighs properly. But something made him lose himself. He came with a shudder, shutting his eyes tight as wiggling and trying to get away as Alice chased her own release. His body is now painted with white. As he helplessly watched Alice’s big cock peek out from between his thighs. Then she shook, shuddering herself as she spilled all over his small frame. Her cock pulsating with each rope of hot cum peepers felt complete despite never being filled by her. He felt wonderful.

As they came down from the high, they heard silence in the other room. Seems hater got bored with waiting and just left. That's good. Peepers looked back at Alice. Who looked down at him, both of them panting. Alice smiled. “What was with the sudden mask removal?” She said and nuzzled his neck. Peepers felt his face flush from embarrassment. “I don't know. Just felt right, I guess.” she smiled. “Yeah? I'm glad you're not the type to run away from me, commander. Now, let's get you cleaned up. Hm?” she said and peepers nodded. “Yeah.. and next time. Let's stick to the bedrooms okay” peepers said and she chuckled “I’ll try~”

The End

read it on wattpad

[palettepainter]

Food for thought 36

You know those videos people make where, after giving birth, they call their relatives who had no idea they'd given birth?? I've been seeing a bunch of them on my instagram and I began wondering, would any of my OC's do this? Probably not

Then I thought about Chikara and, yeah, she would totally do this for the lols

I like to HC that Powerloader aids more in natural disasters, things like land slides and such and helping in evacuation/search and rescue in the city. One day, Higari is called away out of the city to help with a landslide incident - it's a BIG job: houses have been destroyed, the landslide has covered nearly half a town, and many people are both injured and missing. They estimate they're going to be gone for at least two months

Originally, it was only supposed to be Higari who left, but Ectoplasm was called in last minute to aid in the search and rescue with his clones. Chikara - pregnant at the time - is probably living at UA for safety reasons and bids the two good luck and goodbye as they leave for their hero work.

Time passes and Higari and Ectoplasm return home. Classes at UA haven't quite finished, but there's only about an hour of school left so the two decide to just go back to the teachers dorms. Chikara is in the kitchen, and greets them over her shoulder, and while Higari is explaining the details of their mission Chikara turns around with Hoshi in her arms and the following situation happens:

Higari: -and that's not even talking about the amount of damage to the town! Even the houses that are still standing are halfway to rubble-

Chikara: (turns, Hoshi in her arms) Yeesh, sounds exhausting

Higari/Ecto: (gawking).....

Chikara:...(continues to play obliviousness to their shock) So you hit any traffic on the way back?-

Higari: (aggressively points to Hoshi) No the FUCK you didn't!!

Later on, after much questioning from Higari and after Chikara had stopped laughing at his face, this conversation followed:

Higari: (angrily but mostly concerned) Why didn't you call or text me?! What if something happened!!

Chikara: Relax Higari, nothing happened! It all went smoothly

Higari: Why didn't you TELL me?! I woulda come home sooner!

Chikara: (cheshire cat grin) Because there is no way you're ever going to be able to top this surprise with any type of prank you can pull~

Higari: (scowling).............(sighs) Why are you like this?

Chikara: (unashamed) Zero regrets

[chewyjellycable]

[Turnabout Identity B - CW: Mental Distress, Recollection of Trauma]

The quiet ringing of a bell hung in the air as a hardened detective stepped through the door of a well-known defense attorney's place of work. The law firm was tidy and seemed like it was kept up with plenty of attentiveness. The investigator, Almond, scoped the area diligently, one hand digging through the inner pockets of his coat for his notebook. However, his digging was interrupted as a door to the next room over was opened to reveal the owner of the firm. Langue de Chat, supposedly. "Oh, detective! What brings you here? Come to bring me updates about one of the cases I have taken on?" Their voice was too sweet for Almond's ears. It was with a sigh that the detective would shake his head and finally pull something out of his coat. His badge.

"Actually, I'm here regarding the situation around your sibling." The initial fear the investigator spotted from Langue made him almost regret bringing the topic up. He hated these emotionally charged cases more than the ones where parties were more apathetic monsters than anything else. "I can always come back later, however considering how busy both of our schedules are, I recommend we get things over with sooner rather than later. Move this whole thing along to put the case to rest."

"The case... about Dele, right?" The attorney would speak slowly, trying to keep themself composed. Eventually, they'd force a laugh out of themself and open the door to their office. "Right, yes. The whole thing is still a sore spot, but better now than never." De Chat would make a motion for Alm to step in and take a seat in one of the chairs meant for clients in front of his desk. "Are you going to read me my rights beforehand?" Langue questioned as they closed the door behind themself and politely seated themself behind their desk.

"Hm. I'm sure you know your rights considering your line of work..." Sweat beaded at the top of the lawyer's forehead at the thought of not being told despite definitely, one hundred percent, knowing such already. "Better to be thorough though." A mental sigh of relief was given through Chat's shoulders relaxing as they went through the whole song and dance. At the end of it, Alm pulled out a cup of black coffee to sip- with permission- between questions.

"...with all that said, do you still wish to speak to me?"

"Yes." Langue spoke firmly, something that had become infrequent after the whole incident they were soon to speak upon.

Eyes honed in on the law practitioner, Almond would sort through the assortment of questions in his head, going over how to be firm without shattering what could be a fragile psyche in front of him. He'd take a sip, keeping a solid grip as he finally decided on what course to take. "Alright... Now, I know you may not remember everything considering the stress you were under at the time, but... I want you to recount what happened that night to the best of your abilities. What happened to Bredele de Cassonade, and why did you go missing for months afterward?"

"Well, you see, we-..." The name of their sibling was a delayed process in their mind. Langue would have their gaze drop to the desk before them, vivid flashes of memories going through their mind. The walk the two had, the severe injuries that- who- who sustained those? "We were walking. A nature walk. It was a break from work- we both needed it." At least their voice was stable enough... even if De Chat couldn't look the detective eye-to-eye. "There was-... There was this landslide, I think? Something with rocks. We both got caught in it, but she... she had been harmed much worse than I had." Pupils wide behind the lenses of their glasses, Langue took to fidgeting with the rim of it. "I- she... I tried to help, I did, but-..." A doctor can't treat themself. The doctor couldn't treat themself. The doctor treated... who? No, she- they-... The doctor didn't treat herself, no, they- what?

Their head hurt. The grip on the rims of the glasses caused a cracking sound that nearly made Langue jump out of their chair, breath hitching as panic started to flood their system.

Almond would sigh softly, putting his hand within Langue's line of sight and waving it to try and get their attention. "Take a deep breath." The detective would state simply, hoping that his words were getting through to someone who was shattering like glass in front of him. "In for five, out for seven. Take all the time you need... I am not going to rush you to say anything, I promise."

The defense attorney would give a near-silent whimper as they leaned forward and grabbed ahold of Alm's hand. It was an uncomfortably tight grip, but thankfully this old man's dough wasn't nearly as easy to break as enchanted plastic. "Th-thank you, detective..." There was half a thought to correct Langue and have them call him Almond much like anyone else- but doing so right now probably wouldn't have boded well for the person with the stability of wet paper. "Um, s-so... she- she didn't make it. I couldn't- I just- there was so much going on, and seeing here like that, I just-... I just..."

The typically composed and confident lawyer was anything but; beginning to wail and sob, Langue couldn't keep the farce up and let it all out. Crying with unabashed grief and fear, they'd lean their top half against the desk whilst gripping Almond's hand like a lifeline. At this rate, it may as well have been. "I couldn't save her! I- I- I failed as a sibling! As family! As- as a-" A shaking breath tore itself into Langue's throat as a sharp pain felt like a dagger being stabbed into their head. As what? A lawyer? Lawyers don't know healing! Mending! Mending- no, not- not that. Who would use mending for medical? Ridiculous- that's- that's just-...

"My... It was too much. I-I ran, I think. I just-... I couldn't st-stay, I couldn't, s-so... I got- I got... lost?" Good enough of an explanation. Speaking coherently was hard enough thanks to the pain that was shooting through Langue's head- let alone saying something that would make sense for the situation. They weren't even lying- they could never- so why? Why was recalling this so difficult? So blurry? So... wrong?

No admissions of guilt, Almond would think beyond the emotional stakes at hand, though there certainly was plenty of grief to sift through. The sleuth felt lucky enough that his hand wasn't broken by now considering the distress. It would be for the benefit of getting a less distorted retelling, and for the benefit of his hand not being snapped or sprained, to give a small break in the retelling. "Alright, alright. You don't have to go into any further detail for now. Seems like you have enough on your mind already. How about we change the subject, huh?" Alm was pleasantly surprised that those wide brown eyes were even capable of looking at him. Though... Langue always had green eyes in their photos, right? He'll set that aside for later investigating- right now there was a wet dog of a person hanging on his words.

"Right, so..." Ugh, now this was awkward. Almond tried to give a small tug on his arm, but Langue de Chat was absolutely not budging from holding onto someone. He'll have to work that out of them, then work more information. "How have you felt returning to work? Records show you have succeeded in every case since your return. Seeing some of them in person, I'm surprised your more cautious, precise approach you've taken has worked out."

"A-ah..." Langue would struggle to find proper words, but eventually get something out. Even if their voice was still shaken like a trauma cocktail. "I have simply... learned... new methods. B-being at work is where I feel I'm at my best! Defending innocent people, seeing them smile, it's... I-I could not ask for a better job, sincerely... Sp-speaking of, ah, cases! May I go on about one in particular I enjoyed defending for...?"

Finally, Almond was able to pull his hand back. There was a quiet 'sorry' heard from De Chat as he rubbed the soreness out of his muscles. That's going to be sore for the rest of the day, huh? Ugh, figures. "So long as you aren't breaking any contracts and the case is already settled, then sure. Go wild."

...funny. Langue never seemed like the type to ask permission before rambling, did they?

[nurse-buckley]

Whumptober Day 5

Title:

Prompt: Debris

Word Count: 1,855

Characters: Evan Buckley, Eddie Diaz, Bobby Nash, Hen Wilson and Chimney Han

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Evan Buckley (platonic)

Warnings: mentions of minor injury, flash flooding, landslides and storms.

Summary: the team are called in to help with flash flooding when disaster strikes one of their own. Written for day five of @whumptober for the prompt debris

Tags: @firemedicdiaz @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @alexxavicry @cm1031sr​ 

Authors notes: Well considering this day started off rubbish because I found I lost this document in the great One Drive deletion (honestly still not over that) but hey, we made it to day five and we're still going strong. Thank you as always to my amazing beta @firemedicdiaz <3 I love you to the moon and back!

The sound of the rain echoed through the room as it pelted against the windows of the firehouse. Hen, Chim, Eddie and Buck all stood around the table as Bobby briefed them about the rescue they’d been called in to help with. Outside the heavy rain had been relentless and had caused flash flooding and rivers had burst their banks. Their main concern was the landslides that threatened to engulf large parts of the city. 

“Why is it always us who ends up with natural disasters?” Buck whined. 

“It’s just water, I’m sure you’ll survive.” Hen must have realized what she’d said with the look Eddie and Buck gave her in return. 

“We don’t exactly have the best track record with storms,” Eddie replied. 

“Or large bodies of water,” Buck added. 

“Alright, enough you guys,” Bobby commanded as he stepped up to the group. “We’ve got reports of flash flooding. The heavy rain has caused the rivers to overflow and a burst riverbank downstream. There’s now concern about landslides, multiple victims trapped, and multiple evacuation orders are in progress.” 

The jovial atmosphere shifted immediately as Bobby continued to outline the specifics of their rescue operation and gave orders to the team. With their orders given and their gear checked, the members of the 118 prepared to head out towards the disaster zone. 

As they pulled up to the scene, the devastation was staggering. The once-familiar landscape had turned into a mess of destruction with downed trees and muddied waters. The roar of the river could be heard in the distance as it echoed through the valley and mixed with the sound of the unrelenting downpour. 

The incident commander on scene assigned them all their tasks as Buck and Eddie exchanged worried glances. With their orders given, the team split up as they began their rescue efforts, determined to save as many victims of the storm as they could. 

Eddie carefully navigated his way through the rough terrain and wreckage as he called out to anyone who might need his help. His flashlight cut through the darkness as he climbed the hill above the waters to get a better vantage point of the scene. As he neared the top of the hill, he heard soft cries and called out again as he moved his flashlight towards where the sound had come from. At first it had sounded like a small animal but as he neared he saw the silhouette of a young child, soaked to the bone and shivering. The boy couldn’t have been more than 6 years old, his eyes wide with fear. 

Eddie knelt down, his heart aching as he crouched to the child’s level, “hey, buddy,” Eddie began softly, his voice a soothing contrast to the chaos around them. “My name’s Eddie, I’m a firefighter and I’m going to get you out of here, alright.” 

The young child lunged forward as he clung to Eddie, tears streamed down his cheeks as he buried his face in Eddie’s neck. With the child safely in his arms, Eddie carefully began to make his way back with the hopes someone else had found his family and they could be reunited. 

As he climbed down what was left of the hill, the rain-soaked earth suddenly shifted beneath him as it began to give way below his feet. Eddie’s heart was in his throat as he tried to maintain his balance to not dislodge anymore sediment beneath them, but it was a losing battle. 

Desperation clawed at him as he clung onto the child, determined to protect him and get him back to his family safely. He took another cautious step forward and felt himself slipping further. As if in slow motion, he set the child down and pushed him upwards as he yelled for the child to run. 

His body tumbled with the rest of the earth as it hurtled toward the raging waters below. As his body plunged into the icy waters, he sucked in a deep breath in reaction to the sudden temperature change. The water effortlessly seeped its way into his turnout, making every movement feel even heavier and more sluggish as the cold crept into his bones and he fought to keep his head above the raging currents. He tried his best to fight and swim to the edge of the river bank but the raging flood waters were unrelenting as they continued to carry him downstream with great force. 

His body collided with debris as he continued downstream that battered and sliced into his sides. The last thing he saw before his world faded was a large piece of debris heading toward him. It struck him with a brutal impact and his body went limp as he felt himself lose control as the world seemed to slow down and spin around him before he succumbed to the darkness. 

His body continued to be swept away by the waters, his fate hanging in the balance unknown to the rest of his team who continued their own search and rescue efforts. 

Buck continued his search, determined to find more survivors. As he waded through the waist-deep water, he called out for anyone who might have been nearby. He aimed his flashlight in every direction until the light fell upon a small child all alone, cold, and wet. 

Buck hurried over and knelt in front of the child. “Hey, are you okay? My name’s Buck,” he began with a smile as he held out a hand to show he wasn’t a threat. “What are you doing out here all alone?” 

“I-I wasn’t alone…” the child replied quietly. 

“Who were you with? Your parents?” Buck asked. 

“N-no. A-a firefighter got me, but he fell.” 

Buck’s stomach dropped but he tried to remain calm as he asked the child for more information. “Did you see my friend? Was his name Eddie? Did he find you?” 

The child’s eyes filled with tears as he nodded. 

“Did you see where he fell?” 

The child raised a shaky finger as he pointed towards the raging waters that splashed angrily below them. A lump formed in his throat and fear gripped at his heart as he watched the mass of debris and destruction below him, knowing Eddie had ended up down there. He picked up the child and held him close as he raised his radio to his mouth to speak, “man down. I repeat, firefighter Diaz is down.” 

Bobby’s voice crackled over the radio, “what’s your location?” 

Buck relayed the information and held the child a little closer as he waited for back up to arrive. His words hung heavy in the air as the 118, scattered around the disaster zone, scrambled to save their own at Buck’s distress call. 

Panicked and concerned, the team rushed together and regrouped to locate their missing teammate. Buck had handed the child off to another crew as he met up with Bobby, Hen and Chim. 

“Buck, are you alright?” Hen asked as she saw the grim look on his face. 

He nodded in reply, not quite trusting himself to speak. 

“We stay focused and we stay safe,” Bobby ordered, “we’ll find Eddie, I’ve already alerted the IC and search and rescue. We’ve got everyone out looking for him.” 

With a renewed determination, the team rallied together as they began their search for their missing team member. Buck’s heart raced with anxiety as he cast his light downstream. There was a mess of mud, downed trees, and debris and he had begun to lose hope until his flashlight hit something. A flash of yellow caught his eye, bright against the darkness. His heart skipped a beat as he read the familiar yellow writing on the back of the turnout coat, ‘Diaz.’ 

Buck’s voice tore through the night as he alerted his team, “I’ve got eyes on him,” his voice a mix of relief and fear at not knowing his friend's condition. It took every ounce of self control within him to not run down the hill to Eddie’s side. 

As the team heard the news, Bobby was quick to make the decision knowing Buck wasn’t going to have it any other way, “Buck, you and I are going to go down there and get him. Hen and Chim, I need you to make sure we’ve got an ambulance ready and get more bodies here to help with the ropes.” 

With a new sense of urgency, Bobby and Buck put on the harnesses and attached themselves safely to the ropes before they began their descent down the treacherous hillside towards their fallen teammate. The rain continued to pound against them and the roar of the water below deafened them but they pushed forward. 

When they reached the bottom, Buck wasted no time as he ran to Eddie’s side and fell to his knees. He ripped off his glove with his teeth as he pressed trembling fingers to the side of Eddie’s neck and held his breath, praying he’d feel a pulse. 

His skin was icy cold and pale and it took a moment but finally he felt it, a faint but steady pulse beneath his fingertips. Relief flooded him as he nodded to Bobby, “I’ve got a pulse.” 

Buck’s relief was, however, was short lived as he took in the full extent of Eddie’s condition. He was pale, his body battered and bruised and freezing from where he’d been soaked and laying in the river's icy waters. 

The pair worked quickly as they stabilized him the best they could under the challenging conditions. Every moment was critical and they knew they couldn’t waste any more time and had to get him back up to an ambulance. 

Up on the hill, Hen and Chim coordinated the rescue efforts from above as they managed to get all three men back up to safer ground. 

Once they were all on solid ground, the team wasted no time in getting Eddie into the waiting ambulance. Inside, they quickly removed his wet clothing and were finally able to get a look at the full extent of his injuries. The sight of Eddie’s body, battered and bruised, sent a fresh wave of worry through all of them but they focussed their efforts on getting him stable. 

As they worked to warm him up and assess his injuries, the ambulance sped towards the nearest hospital. Buck had refused to leave Eddie’s side and continued to hold his hand, his fingers intertwined with Eddie’s as he watched and listened to the rhythmic sound of the heart monitor that provided comfort that his friend was alive. 

The medic in the back with them continued to work around them to keep Eddie stable and comfortable until eventually they began to see a slight improvement in his condition. His vitals had steadied and he was no longer the deathly shade of pale he had been when they first found him. 

Buck couldn’t help the relief that washed over him as the ambulance neared the hospital and the skies began to show signs of clearing; a sign of hope and promise that the storm was behind them.

[idontgotnosense]

People ABSOLUTELY CAN decide that a particular candidate, while horribly flawed as a human Being (though not nearly as awful as your description claims) is still preferable to the empty-suit who was anointed by the powers that be to fill Joe Biden's absence (after a process that did not exactly instill faith in the Democrat Party) It will be quite common for parents and elders all across our country to explain to youngsters that while Trump was the better choice for preserving our way of life, not every single aspect of his personality is to be adopted....and, certainly, some of the incidents in which he has been rumored to have been involved are nowhere near acceptable. If you leftists want to be sanctimonious about elections that do not go your way (and I know you do!) you need to nominate serious candidates....especially for the presidency. You may believe the right's candidate to be an immoral, foolish, somewhat nutty, horror of a human Being. However, you lose the needed credibility to claim this when your candidate was such a joke. I know people who desperately looked for any excuse to not vote for Trump, and felt they had after the lone debate.....then they observed her bungle every single interview, speech, reaction, etc for 3 months. Her problem was not that she lacked sufficient time to "allow voters to get to know her." Before voters knew her (and she had the help of pre-knowledge of debate questions and a bluetooth earring) she was clearly winning. Had the campaign lasted another month, she'd have been truly landslided. This is the candidate who, despite being given a pole-position in the 2020 Dem primary, could not last beyond Iowa (the very first contest) she blew all of her money, finished 4th, or something and had to drop out (then became Biden's DEI running mate) She is a terrible candidate. Yes, Trump has some issues and his ascension to the country's highest office is troubling in many ways, but Democrats need to look in the mirror, not continue to chastise voters over Trump. Give them someone worthy of being president to vote for instead of Trump.....y'all failed to do so, and thus can close your mouths. It's not "voters are so awful to have elected such a man AGAIN!" It is "how sad that the closest thing to a competent candidate who will fight to keep our way of life intact on the ticket comes in the body of this flawed person."

The Trump voter will now own their decision to betray all decent people.

#cowards

[comeonhelene]

Terminated, Effective Immediately

At the risk of exposing what a nerd I am, I’ll tell you that when I first opened my Forest Service uniform, I held my badge and cried. I was so proud to be part of the agency whose mission is “caring for the land and serving people”. I thought about how proud my dad would be. He instilled in me a sense of duty, patriotism, and a strong desire to do what’s right, especially when people need it most.

For the past 19.5 months, I’ve been working in disaster recovery for the National Forests in North Carolina. I worked on 6 hurricanes or major storms and a dozen or more wildfires during that time, including deployments to western states.

I also took a temp promotion as the District Ranger for the Grandfather Ranger District two weeks before Hurricane Helene ravaged Pisgah National Forest, western NC, and other states. While my own family didn’t have power or a way to keep food and medication cold, I went in and worked 19 days straight before someone made me take a break.

I led the District to the best of my ability through something none of us signed up for. I had to. People needed us. Our first focus was clearing a path to get to 35 kids and their teachers who were trapped in a facility behind several landslides and giant piles of debris. After that, we focused on supporting search and rescue, clearing roads for emergency access, and helping everywhere we could.

I returned to my normal role on the disaster recovery team in January and started working towards long-term recovery for the Forest and our local communities. On Thursday, I stood on the ruined part of I-40 with a team planning how to stick an interstate back on the side of a mountain. People probably don’t realize that portion sits on National Forest land and cannot be fixed without Forest Service employees. That afternoon we got word that 14 of our employees were indiscriminately fired. All of them were actively working on hurricane recovery.

Yesterday, I received the call that I was being fired. We’ve lost 17 in total from the National Forests in North Carolina. Every single one was working on hurricane recovery projects. The majority of them hold firefighter or incident management qualifications and actively support wildfire operations. The US Forest Service has reportedly lost more than 4000 employees at this point. More than 10% of the agency.

My termination letter said it was “based on performance”. The supervisor that called me said I was the best hire they had ever made. My performance reviews have always been excellent. I love what I do and, like so many of my colleagues, I care about getting it right to meet our mission.

In my time working for this agency, I think I’ve made a difference. Besides growing personally and professionally, I’ve tried to be an example of a strong, caring woman for my daughters. I talk with them about how we can do hard things and we should always “do what we can, with what we have, where we’re at.” When I told them that I wasn’t allowed to do my job anymore, they cried with me. We have all sacrificed for my work. I’ve taught them to believe it matters.

It still matters.

I hope I get to do it again one day. -Jenifer B.

[Above photo belongs to Jenifer.]

[lordrul]

The Kuala Mu Incident

Our trip began on October 11th, 2024. We headed to Kampung Beswok to stay at the Orang Asli Chalet.

The journey there was challenging—steep roads and multiple traces of landslides along the way. Still, we managed to arrive after a four-hour drive from Kuala Lumpur.

Upon checking in, the chalet greeted us with its natural beauty. A clear, refreshing river flowed right beside it, and the water was icy cold, likely because of the recent rain.

However, I couldn’t shake off an uneasy feeling. Even during the drive, there were moments when I felt like turning back.

After playing in the river for a bit, an elderly Orang Asli man approached us, smiling warmly as he looked at Jazz. He reached out toward her, but I wasn’t comfortable with his intentions. I gently blocked him from getting close and carried Jazz inside the chalet. When I politely asked him to leave, he lingered for a moment, even trying to enter the chalet while still focused on Jazz. Eventually, he left, but the encounter left me unsettled.

Later, a foul smell filled the chalet—something rotten, perhaps a dead lizard or mouse. As we ate dinner, a small mouse scurried into the room, but we managed to chase it out.

Though we made it through the night, the atmosphere never felt right. First thing after breakfast the next morning, we checked out.

We packed everything and hit the road. Since it was still early, we decided to explore another Orang Asli village—Pos Kuala Mu.

The drive to Pos Kuala Mu took another hour, with steep climbs and rough, challenging roads. I even had to engage the SUV's 4WD to manage the terrain. When we finally arrived, the place felt different—more modern than Kampung Beswok. The river there was wider and flowed with more strength. The villagers seemed friendlier, and there were many cars from outside the area parked around. I learned that these belonged to hikers who had come to climb Mount Yong Yap.

We parked for a short while to explore the area and check out the river. But when we returned to the car and tried to leave, I noticed the engine temperature was alarmingly high. I immediately turned off the engine, popped the hood, and saw that coolant was leaking from the radiator.

It hit me that we were two hours from the nearest town, with no workshop nearby, and the radiator was damaged. Panic began to creep in as I tried to figure out what to do. Some villagers and visitors came over to help, offering food, letting us rest in a small hut, and even giving us contacts for workshops (in Ipoh). Their kindness made a big difference in that stressful moment.

I contacted my insurance company, but they warned me it would be difficult to get a tow truck to such a remote area. Even if they found someone willing to come, it would take at least two hours for the truck to reach us.

We ended up stuck there from 11 a.m. until 5 p.m. During that time, we made friends with the visitors, the villagers, and even the Tok Batin, the village chief. Their hospitality made the waiting bearable and gave us a glimpse of their way of life.

Finally, around 5 p.m., a tow truck arrived. Our SUV was loaded onto the truck, and we rode with the driver as we left Pos Kuala Mu, heading toward Ipoh. The ride was nerve-wracking, with the heavy load and steep, winding roads making the journey feel precarious. I held Jazz close the entire way, trying to distract myself by chatting with the driver.

It was a long, exhausting day, but the kindness of strangers made all the difference in getting us through it.

Three hours later, at 8 p.m., we arrived at the workshop, BTG Motorsport Empire. I had been in contact with them throughout the day, explaining the issue with our SUV and trying to figure out what needed to be done. As soon as we arrived, they took the SUV in and got straight to work. The boss inspected the radiator and confirmed it was beyond repair and needed immediate replacement. Without hesitation, I agreed. Thankfully, the price they quoted was reasonable, especially for a weekend night.

Jazz was clearly exhausted, and I knew we needed to get her to the hotel as soon as possible. I mentioned to the boss that we were staying at a hotel just five minutes away, and to my surprise, he offered to have one of their staff drive us there. Alhamdulillah—what incredible service!

We checked in at Dutaria Hotel Ipoh, grabbed some snacks from a nearby 99 Speedmart, and took the long-awaited bath we desperately needed. I tucked Jazz and her mama in to rest, but I still had to return to the workshop to follow up on the SUV repairs.

I got back to the workshop around 10:15 p.m., and by 11 p.m., the team had already replaced the radiator. They ran a thorough test to make sure everything was functioning perfectly. Once I completed the payment, I drove the SUV back to the hotel. It was late, the rain was falling steadily, and I was beyond exhausted, but I felt a deep sense of relief. Everything was finally in order. I must say, BTG Motorsport Empire is one of the best workshops I’ve ever encountered—their professionalism and customer service were top-notch. They weren’t a large operation, but their dedication made all the difference.

The next morning, we allowed ourselves the luxury of sleeping in. After packing up and grabbing lunch, we headed back home to Kuala Lumpur.

Looking back, I’m just grateful for all the kind-hearted people we met along the way. From the villagers to the workshop staff, everyone lent a hand when we needed it the most. Thank you to all of them.

[beardedmrbean]

Millions of people across Southeast Asia struggled Thursday with flooded homes, power cuts and wrecked infrastructure after Typhoon Yagi swept through the region, as the death toll passed 250.

In worst-hit Vietnam, the fatalities rose to 226, with nine confirmed dead in northern Thailand — where one district is suffering its worst floods in 80 years.

Myanmar’s national fire service confirmed the country’s first Yagi-related deaths after 17 bodies were recovered from flooded villages in the Mandalay region, while more than 50,000 people have been forced from their homes.

Yagi brought a colossal deluge of rain that has inundated a swathe of northern Vietnam, Laos, Thailand and Myanmar, triggering deadly landslides and widespread river flooding.

One farmer on the edge of Hanoi told AFP his entire 1,800 square metre peach blossom plantation was submerged, destroying all 400 of his trees.

“It will be so hard for me to recover from this loss — I think I will lose up to $40,000 this season,” said the farmer, who gave his name only as Tu.

“I really don’t know what to do now, I’m just waiting for the water to recede.”

The United Nations children’s agency (UNICEF) said the typhoon had damaged more than 140,000 homes across 26 provinces in Vietnam.

Floodwaters in Vietnam are receding, draining through the Red River — the main watercourse in the area — into the sea.

Authorities in several districts in the Red River delta ordered more than 50,000 people to evacuate their homes as a precaution while the runoff passes through.

– Communications cut off –

The floods have devastated more than 250,000 hectares of crops and huge numbers of livestock, Vietnam’s agriculture ministry said, with farmland around Hanoi hit hard.

In the deadliest single incident, a landslide in Lao Cai province annihilated an entire village of 37 houses, killing at least 42 people with 53 still unaccounted for.

Rescue teams pulled victims from the mud on Thursday, carrying them on stretchers to makeshift shelters where neighbours and relatives carefully washed the bodies in readiness for burial.

Survivors picked through the mud and wreckage to retrieve what family heirlooms and possessions they could find.

Fifteen bodies have been recovered in Cao Bang province after a landslide on Monday pushed a bus, along with several cars and motorbikes, into a stream, state media said Thursday.

– Myanmar camps –

Myanmar’s junta government has set up around 50 camps to help people affected by the floods, Lay Shwe Zin Oo, director of the social welfare, relief and resettlement ministry told AFP.

The Global New Light of Myanmar, the state-run newspaper, said train services on the main line between Yangon and Mandalay were suspended because some sections were flooded.

The Mekong River Commission, the international body overseeing the crucial waterway, issued a flood warning on Thursday for the historic Laotian city of Luang Prabang.

The Mekong is expected to hit flood levels in the coming days in Luang Prabang, a UNESCO world heritage site, the commission said in a bulletin.

In Thailand the death toll has risen to nine, the Department of Disaster Prevention and Mitigation said, including six killed in landslides in Chiang Mai province.

All flights were suspended in and out of the airport in Chiang Rai, some 145 kilometres (90 miles) northeast of Chiang Mai, aviation authorities said.

Further north, Mae Sai district on the border with Myanmar is suffering its worst floods in 80 years, Suttipong Juljarern, a senior interior ministry official said in a statement.

The Jet Ski Association of Thailand has sent 16 jet skis to help with relief efforts, Dechnarong Suticharnbancha, the body’s president told AFP.

Some of the currents in the floodwaters are too strong for normal boats but jet skis are able to navigate them because of their powerful engines.

A video showing champion jet skier Kasidit Teeraprateep rescuing an old woman from a torrent of murky water circulated on Thai social media.

Heavy monsoon rains lash Southeast Asia every year, but human-made climate change is causing more intense weather patterns that can make destructive floods more likely.

Climate change is causing typhoons to form closer to the coast, intensify faster and stay longer over land, according to a study published in July.

[impactnews-webmaster-us]

To me, this is a national disaster for sure, a ‘terrible tragedy for Wayanad, Kerala, and the nation – Rahul Gandhi, Leader Of Opposition, Lok Sabha

Leader of the Opposition in Lok Sabha and Congress leader Rahul Gandhi along with sister Priyanka visited landslides-hit areas of Wayanad and said he was ‘deeply pained’ to see people who have lost family members and homes in the tragedy, calling it a ‘national disaster’ and demanded an urgent comprehensive action plan.

Gandhi, a former Congress MP from Wayanad, said it was a ‘terrible tragedy for Wayanad, Kerala, and the nation’.

“We have come here to see the situation. It is quite a painful experience to see that people lost their family members and houses. It’s very difficult to speak to people in these circumstances because you really don’t know what to say to them. It’s been quite a difficult day for me, but we are going to try and help make sure that the survivors get what is due,” he told reporters.

“To me, this is a national disaster for sure, but let’s see what the government says,” he said in response to reporters’ queries.

Both Gandhi and his sister, Priyanka Gandhi Vadra, visited the landslide-hit Chooralmala area of Wayanad.

Vadra spoke along similar lines, saying the pain people in the area were experiencing was unimaginable.

“We are here to help them and to give as much support and comfort as we can.” she said.

Both of them were speaking to reporters after visiting the landslide-affected area of Chooralmala here, a hospital and community health centre in Meppadi, and two relief camps.

After visiting the landslide-hit spot, Gandhi in a Facebook post said that witnessing the scenes of disaster and tragedy deeply pained his heart.

“In these difficult times, Priyanka and I stand with the people of Wayanad. We are closely monitoring the relief, rescue, and rehabilitation efforts, ensuring that all necessary assistance is provided. The UDF is committed to extending all possible support.”

“The repeated incidents of landslides and natural calamities are extremely concerning. A comprehensive action plan is urgently needed,” he said in his post.

After reaching Chooralmala, Gandhi and his sister — donning translucent blue raincoats — crossed the temporary wooden walkway built there, witnessed the construction of the Bailey Bridge, and walked around the area, braving the rain and muddy terrain.

‘LoP Shri @RahulGandhi & AICC General Secretary Smt. @priyankagandhi ji visited the Chooralmala landslide site in Wayanad where devastating landslides have claimed many lives and left families devastated.’

Congress said on social media platform X and shared photographs of the visit.

Thereafter, they visited two relief camps, Dr Moopen’s Medical College and the Community Health Centre in Meppadi where the bodies of the victims were kept in refrigerated coffins and interacted with the grieving families there.

AICC general secretary and Alappuzha MP K C Venugopal and various other Congress leaders also accompanied them.

Gandhi, who won from the Wayanad Lok Sabha constituency in the 2019 general elections, had emerged victorious this year as well.

However, as also won from the Raebareli LS seat in Uttar Pradesh, he gave up the Wayanad segment, from where Vadra is expected to contest when a by-election is held there.

Gandhi and Vadra landed at Kannur airport at 9.30 am and then travelled to Wayanad by road.