#like his calm; gentle; understanding demeanor and experience dealing with grief and death is going to be good for her

[invinciblerodent]

I don't really have time to play him more than like an hour every few days, but man, Marcus really is insufferably pretty. Half the time, I've got my finger glued to the screenshot button, lol.

His personality is slowly taking shape in my head too: so far, he's been a far kinder, more emotional person than the broody, analytical scholar I thought he was going to be (I'm leaning into the "arcane grief councilor, magic is not just engineering but also psychology/philosophy" angle a bit more, so he's approaching all from a place of emotion and analysis), and his softness is a choice that comes from a place of rigorous, painful self-awareness.

In his head, so far Marcus is kind of the king of compartmentalization: he's constantly picking through his own thoughts and feelings and slotting them away into neatly labeled boxes, while choosing which ones he'll let himself feel (and chastising himself for the rest), which then also translates to him being very cautious, guarded... maybe even somewhat cynical. He's keeping his distance in general (as one would probably expect from someone who has never much experienced a warm, emotionally fulfilling environment, and has not really been outside of an academic setting much).

I'm thinking that his personal arc is going to be based around his unspoken suspicions continuing to be confirmed over and over again in the worst ways, causing him to sort of recede more and more into himself, but it'll be the others daring to let their feelings be felt (with Neve forgiving him, and Bellara both relying on him in his field of expertise and dragging him out into the light with her exuberance) that's going to create some much-needed balance in the end.

I like to think that where Ver embodied the moniker of "Rook" from a place of strength and forthrightness (acting as Solas' foil in that way, as a leader), Marcus embodies it more from a literal sense: from being stuck, in the highest room of that (ivory) tower.

He's... probably more like Solas than either of them would like to admit, really.

[gurenscumrag]

As The World Falls Down

Word Count: 3,396

Content Warning: Child Abuse, descriptions of anxiety.

Read chapter 1 here.

The buzzing of the battlefield quieted down into nothing more than a simple humming, Shigaraki’s vision going a beautiful sparkling white until something slowly came into view. A young boy, with sky-blue locks, scabbed over skin, and red eyes sat silently on a small chair. The room around him was impeccably clean, almost entirely sterile which made the young boy shift uncomfortably. He was lost in thought, staring at the lines on the floor as though they were going to change before his eyes. Shigaraki never noticed the older gentleman stepping into the room, not until his unfamiliar voice broke the stillness and scared the boy momentarily,

“These are your mother’s hands...”

The dismembered and blue-tinged pair of hands were set down in front of a small Shigaraki. His maroon eyes gazing over them with curiosity and disgust. How could these be his mother’s hands? The hands that had once caressed and held him, the hands that were always a healthy flesh tone, and the hands that kept him safe were now crackled, leathery, and grey. How? How could this be hers?

“…your grandmother’s…

…your grandfather’s…

…and your father’s…”

Shigaraki stared at the family set, everyone was here… Mother, father, grandmother, grandfather… everyone. Everyone Shigaraki ever cared about laid out in front of him, except for one person.

Hana.

Where was Hana? Was she still alive? Is it possible she escaped unscathed? Had he kept his promise to protect her? If she was safe… Where was she? Had he not kept his promise? Did she not survive?! Where was Hana?!

“The human heart is an incredible thing,” the rough voice grumbled,  almost enough to dull and distract from the screaming in Shigaraki’s head.

The anxiety was starting to stir more and more inside of Shigaraki, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe, his throat constricting, trying to force any emotion or words he wanted to scream down. Bile rising into his throat, making his cheeks and eyes water. His family was dead. They had been dead for a while. Almost a month now, but why? Why were they dead? Who killed them? Who would do such a fucked up thing to such a small child?

“Left alone, it will heal itself of rage, grief, and all those negative emotions. But I always want you to keep them close to you… so that those feelings never fade.”

Never fade?! How could someone expect him to deal with all of these feelings? The pain he felt in his heart infected each part of his being. Each nerve, each muscle, each cell, every inch of his skin was bursting with anxiety and hatred. How could one little child carry such a heavy burden? How could anyone force Shigaraki to feel this tumultuous pain every day? Didn’t they know every waking moment felt like he was suffocating? Didn’t they know every day he woke up and vomited because he was so disgusted with himself for surviving? Didn’t they know how he stayed up for nights on end, crying because it should have been him who died? Didn’t they know how many times Shigaraki held his fingers to his throat, scared to press all five down despite wanting to die? Didn’t they know he cried for them? Didn’t they know how lonely he was? Didn’t they know how much he was suffering?

The voice and the image gradually began to fade away. The twenty-year-old Shigaraki blinked away the image of his young self sobbing and grasping his mother’s hands, but his sight never returned back to Rikiya, instead another memory took its place. This time, the image of a small black-haired child with pale skin came into view. The present Shigaraki squinted against the image, uncertain of who it was he was looking at…

Could… Could it really be…??

Hana!

Her cherubic features were always such a delight for Shigaraki to look at, it stirred up feelings of possessiveness and protection for his sister. Hana stood before Shigaraki, her pigtails bouncing slightly as she tilted her head and watched her brother who was silently sobbing, “You got in trouble again, right? Sheesh… You shoulda just kept quiet, Ten.”

Hana leaned in and Shigaraki felt a gentle pressure on his hand when she grasped at it, “You should do like I do. I’m telling Daddy that I wanna be a bride someday! It’ll make him real happy, especially if I marry someone like Daddy or you, Ten!”

Shigaraki smiled widely at the sweet words of his sister. Hana marrying a cry baby like him? He couldn’t do anything to keep her safe and happy, how could a husband like him do the same? Shigaraki sighed, despite his need and want to protect the child in front of him, she was his older sister and always was the one to take care of him.

The realization tasted sour in his mouth, but it was his sad reality. Whenever Shigaraki would run off to cry, she’d always come and find him. Always taunting and teasing the younger boy, but always grabbing his hand to pull Shigaraki along with her. It was Hana who would calm him and wipe the tears that stained his reddened cheeks. It was only Hana who could calm him down with just a few innocent, childlike words, and a toothy grin.

The tightening grip on the present Shigaraki’s wounded hand brought the man back to his current reality. The pulsating pain was enough to force out a scream, burning Shigaraki’s throat as it tore apart his vocal cords. Clawing its way out, but he could barely hear his screaming.

His thoughts, his head. Everything, it was all spinning. It was all spinning, round and round and round and round and round and round and round! These fucking memories! These stupid, memories! Why?! Why?! Why?! Why are these fucking memories suddenly coming back now?!

Rikiya sniggered, “All I see is just a hollow man… You’re just a man who indulges in destruction, right?! And in that case, you will never measure up to me!”

The incomprehensible frustration that sank deep deep down into Shigaraki’s heart. And the missing memories, slotting right into place! Feelings go hand in hand with experience! That’s right! There was more to Shigaraki than even he himself knew, there was something deep inside of him just waiting to explode, to be free and take charge. Something that Shigaraki desperately wanted to let out after all these years.

The blue-white haired man pressed his three remaining fingers against Rikiya’s thumb, the skin instantly starting to crumble beneath Shigaraki’s quirk. Flesh turning into nothing more than grey colored pieces of paper, floating off around the point the two villains were joined. Rikiya seemed to notice fairly quickly, the loss of feeling happening almost instantly, he knew he couldn’t let Shigaraki continue with his decay or it would be much worse. The older man pulled his arm slightly back before flinging Shigaraki’s body across the battlefield as though he was nothing more than a rag doll.

Rikiya was sure that Shigaraki’s quirk couldn’t have activated with only three fingers. All the data, all the experience beforehand showed he could only activate it with all five fingers? What had changed? Why now? What happened in the few seconds that Shigaraki looked lost?

A faint sound of skin scratching, labored breathing, and wheezing laughter forced Rikiya’s focus towards it. The sight before him was stunning. Shigaraki sat scratching at his bleeding and ripped skin, his eyes almost bulging from his eye sockets. His maroon eyes dark and bloodshot, yet still looked hungry for more power.

“MY HEADS SPLITTING.” The loud rasp rang from the scream abused throat, blood dripping down his chin, a sick smile etched into his wrinkled skin.

God itself would shiver at the very sight of Shigaraki right now. It was violent. It was sick. It was tortured. It was demented. It was repulsive.

While Rikiya stared at the revolting image before him, all Shigaraki could see was a beautiful and kind woman.

His mother.

An angel.

A goddess.

Her beautiful voice soothing the rage laced heart that ached inside a battle-worn Shigaraki, his mother rubbing the cheek of the young boy, “You’ve rubbed your eyes all ragged. Let’s get you some drops. It’ll only get itchier if you keep scratching.”

Shigaraki enjoyed the blissful image of his mother, her soothing words and movements could have made the man sigh in utter bliss had he been alone. Rikiya on the other hand was studying the worn-down man, trying to figure out what exactly had awoken inside of Shigaraki. He knew under the right circumstances that meta abilities could evolve, the right amount of stress was essential for pushing the abilities to new heights, but had that happen so suddenly with Shigaraki? Could meta abilities evolve that quickly? And could the user instinctually know how to use the evolved quirk right away? Was this man finally in the process of awakening? Had Rikiya unknowingly helped Shigaraki and aided in his own demise? There were so many questions, such little time, but such intriguing discoveries.

Shigaraki’s raw physicality, his raw movements, and almost immature demeanor clued Rikiya in about something. Shigaraki had trained his body hard. Despite his slender frame, the man was hardened with lean muscles, allowing for quick and targeted movements. He wasn’t bulky like All Might, Shigaraki’s quirk needed stealth and agility to pull off successfully, but his technique, was something otherworldly. Something only picked up during life or death training.

This kid… He was….

Incredible.

“I… I have also honed my stress ability, so I understand,” Rikiya started, his eyes trying to focus on Shigaraki, “I was wrong to judge you as beneath me. The fact that you haven’t vanished after taking so much damage tells me that you’re no double! Far from it in fact. You are simply incredible, Tomura Shigaraki.”

Shigaraki looked like a real-life zombie, his gaze was far away, his body moved slowly and only in one simple direction. He was predictable and open for attack. Somehow, Shigaraki’s movements fastened as he grew closer to Rikiya. Long limbs moving like a sleek cat to strike at its prey. Muscular limbs being stretched and exerted to their max all for the goal of beating Rikiya.

Shigaraki pulled his arm back, gripping the limb with his free hand to keep it steady, he shot towards Rikiya faster than the older man expected, but it still wasn’t fast enough. Rikiya’s shirt tore apart violently, buttons flying in every direction as the man’s body began to harden. He was being engulfed more and more as the stress he had stored up over the years began to leak out, he was going to give Shigaraki the respect he deserved, at an 80% stress output.

“No more games, Shigaraki! It’s time for you to die!”

Rikiya’s face looked just as grotesque as Shigaraki’s, the skin-like suit was bright red and almost splitting from the sheer amount of power it held. The suit of the power leaking out to surround his face, dripping and smearing like blood. Rikiya grinned childishly beneath it. It was his turn to feel giddy, to feel youthful. Such an incredible fight with an incredible opponent warranted for it.

Shigaraki dashed forward, as did Rikiya’s, channeling all of his power into his arm and hand in a similar manner to Midoriya’s One For All. The sheer wind force coming off of Rikiya’s arms hit Shigaraki like a freight train. Shigaraki’s breath was knocked from his lungs, his body flung through the air, and he was slammed into large pieces of flying debris. Shigaraki felt like he was in a battering ring, his body scraped and bleeding, he knew a few ribs had broken, and at least one lung was punctured, but he didn’t care. How could he care when he saw none of it, the trace-like state Shigaraki was still in was enough to lick away any pain that he felt.

Shigaraki could only see his grandfather, a kind-looking man, his voice softer than most men, but it was comforting to a young Shigaraki, “Here, Tenko! It’s your favorite— Ohagi! Eating yummy things helps make the sadness go away. Why not take a few bites, son?”

Why had Shigaraki been sad when he had his grandparents? Especially his beautiful grandmother. She always took such good care of him, her voice almost as angelic as his mother’s, but not quite there, “Don’t cry, Tenko, or you’ll make grandma cry too.”

His grandmother and grandfather were always so kind to him, so why was he always so sad? Why did every part of him hurt? Why did he always feel alone? Why did they all have to die?

He had the answers, he knew why he was hurting and just what he needed. Back then, what Shigaraki needed to hear the most from them wasn’t that he’d be okay or that the sadness would go away, no.

What he needed them to tell him was….

Rikiya stood, watching the battered and bruised villain struggle to get on his feet. His breathing hard and loud as he struggled to suck in air with a punctured lung. Rikiya watched, someone from the sidelines shouted into the earpiece  Rikiya wore, “Re-Destro!! Be on your guard! He’s headed right for you!! They had a real monster lying in wait!! Re-Destro! They didn’t play all of their cards!!”

What?!

Didn’t play ALL their cards?!

What else could these sick bastards be keeping up their sleeve?!

“SHIT!” Rikiya yelled, the deep rumbling he had been hearing wasn’t the consequence of his own power destroying the buildings and ground around them, no, it was something else. Something or someone was coming straight at them!

The booming sound of heavy footsteps descended upon the battlefield, Rikiya flinched at the deafening noise. A loud, human-like scream broke above the clouds, a ginormous rock-like body came crashing through several buildings causing them to come tumbling down with a loud groan. This gigantic monster came barreling through the buildings all for the sake of its master, Tomura Shigaraki.

Rikiya watched it, wide-eyed and struck with fear. Now it was Shigaraki’s turn to watch the other villain, his body somewhat hunched over, tired and exhausted from the fight and his eyes retained a certain sadness.

Rikiya gawked at Shigaraki in terror. Rikiya had been hounding his ability since he was a child, trying to create a move that was so destructive it was untouchable, yet somehow, Shigaraki had managed to touch Rikiya enough to activate his quirk. Small pieces of Rikiya’s skin was flaking away, floating off into the air, leaving the beginning of an open wound. Shigaraki was no normal villain, in the instant Rikiya aimed to destroy, Shigaraki had moved into it rather than defend like human nature would dictate, it would seem Shigaraki only moved to destroy.

“Re-Destro! Be on your guard, dammit!”

The saddened, but exhausted man was once more lost in the tidal wave of memories that were unlocking. It stirred up new feelings, new desires, new thinking. What was his purpose in life? .What was Shigaraki seeking to build, Why did it feel like only yesterday was his memories reemerging? What was happening to him?

Shigaraki stared blankly at his hand that was damaged, yet somehow looked perfectly fine and normal, “What do I seek to build…? No, you’re totally right. All I can do is destroy!” A sick smile graced bloodied and crackled lips, his white hair wind-whipped, his body standing taller and prouder, his exhaustion replaced with adrenaline.

Rikiya glared sharply, disgust evident in his features, his power began to consume him, covering him in their protection, “Then be gone! A world without creation has no future!” Rikiya grew bigger and bigger, his quirk gracing him with enough power to be 15 feet tall, his chest gigantic, and his hands held fistfuls of his pure raw power.

Shigaraki chuckled, loving the fact he had pushed this seemingly coolheaded villain to his brink, “No future, huh? Nah, I don’t want that either.”

What was it that Shigaraki wanted? What were his true intentions? Another memory hit Shigaraki like a strong wave, a quiet but clean home came into his view and he heard a familiar voice, “Thank you for being so understanding. I’m so sorry my boy bothered you. I’ll be sure to give him a talking-to!”

His mom?! Why was she apologizing? Why wasn’t she doting on him? What was going on?!

Shigaraki couldn’t remember why he was in trouble, he only remembered the way his father grabbed the back of his shirt. Roughly pulling the young boy through the house, his mother’s face warped in confusion and fear as she tried to catch a crying Shigaraki. His father’s strong voice booming above the sobbing screams, “Playing hero again?! Causing trouble?!”

“Stop! Kotaro! Don’t… Don’t be so hard on him! He’s just a kid, please!”

“If you don’t like it, then learn your lesson this time.” His father snarled.

“FATHER! NOOOO!” Shigaraki screamed, thrashing in his father’s grip while desperately trying to grab for his mother, “STOP IT!”

“KOTARO, PLEASE!” Tears flowed down his mother’s reddened cheeks, she was so beautiful when she cried, but it broke the young boy to see her crumble.

Now he could remember why his father was so angry with him.

Shigaraki’s father always had one rule in their house. Only one, but it was absolute. No talk about heroes.

Shigaraki now sat curled up, his knees tucked close to his chest, fresh and old tears staining his cheeks, his nails scratching his delicate skin over and over. His black hair was messy and stuck to his forehead from sweat. The gentle breeze of the outside world licked and caresses the wet points on his face, as though the world was trying to soothe this hurting boy. Kotaro watched the sobbing child from behind the glass door, a sneer etched into his face from his disgust

“You’d better not go and apologize to him for me.”

“But what about dinner? And his allergies are only getting worse!” His mother retorted back

“Rules are rules.”

“Don’t you think you’ve been too strict lately?” Shigaraki’s grandmother chimed in, her eyes watching his son-in-law curiously.

“Five years old and still no quirk. If I can’t make Tenko understand, it’ll only lead to more misery for him. Wanting to be a hero will cause him nothing but trouble. As my in-laws, I need you to understand too.”

But Shigaraki’s mother was too kind, too sweet, and too naive to allow her child to suffer in such a way. She sat behind her sweet baby boy, ointment in her hands to rub onto his worn-out skin, “Come on. No more scratching okay?”

“But I’m so itchy,” Shigaraki whimpered, the back of his hands rubbing the raw skin on his eyes

“It’s too bad we don’t know what’s causing these allergies…”

“It’s the house. I get itchy here.”

“Tenko,” She smiled, bandages and ointment applied, turning the small child towards her welcoming body, “Do you still want to be a hero?”

“Yup!” He smiled sweetly and innocently, “Because, like, nobody wanted to play with Mikkun and Tomo. So I said ‘Let’s play together!’ And we played heroes, and it was super fun! And then Mikkun said, ‘you should be All Might, Ten’ I was nice and played with them, even though, they don’t have any friends.” Shigaraki threw himself at his mother, wrapping his little arms around her waist and burying his face against her chest, comforting and calming him with her scent and soft body.

“Mommy, why does father say no all the time?! Does… Does he hate me?! Will he like me if I get my quirk?”

The older woman sighed, pressing a hand to the back of his head, keeping him pressed against her bosom, “Your father doesn’t hate you… He just… He knows… He knows how hard it is for heroes.”

How I wish those were the words I wanted to hear mother… I really wish I did, but little kids are sneakier than you’d expect and simpler. When you’re little, grown-up’s words are absolute. And that’s why I needed to hear it from you all. Just one thing but the household my father built rejected me kindly.

Notes: Hi! If you want to keep better track of this series and it’s progression, here is the A03 link!