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scary-grace · 7 months ago

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 5) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 5

You end up on a rooftop, you and Tenko and Kurogiri. Tenko has a pair of binoculars, and he lets you look through them before you have a chance to ask what he’s looking for. “We’re in Hosu,” he says. “The current location of the Hero Killer.”

“Are you going to fight him?”

“I’m doing what you said.”

You can’t remember what you said, except for your stupid joke. “Making him unfuckable?”

Tenko snickers, and somewhere behind you, Kurogiri does the same – which is extra weird. “No. Putting us back in the headlines.”

“Oh.” You don’t like this. “I’m not a strategist. You shouldn’t listen to me.”

“Why?” Tenko gives you a weird look. “You’re not stupid. Your ideas aren’t any worse than mine.”

“I don’t want you to get mad at me if it goes wrong,” you say. “I’ve heard you get mad at Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri chuckles. “That’s different,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura. Tell her why it’s different.”

“Shut up,” Tenko says. He put the hand back over his face once he let go of your hand, but he’s turning red around it. Again. “Kurogiri’s not my sidekick. I don’t have to listen to him.”

“You don’t have to listen to me, either,” you say. “I don’t know anything about being – this.”

“You understand them better than I do,” Tenko says. He gestures at the expanse of Hosu before you. “What would it take to make you stop trusting heroes?”

You already don’t trust heroes very much. What would it take to move people like your parents or your siblings, who live in the other Japan, to where you are? “To see them choose wrong.”

Tenko gives you a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“Heroes can’t save everybody. They can’t be everywhere. They can’t be there all the time. But nobody ever thinks that the heroes won’t choose to save them,” you explain. “If you wanted to shake things up, you’d have to make it so the heroes choose wrong. For everybody to see.”

Tenko’s eyes light up, and the smile on his face this time looks less like your friend’s and more like the villain he’s become. “Then we’re in the right place,” he says. “This city is crawling with heroes looking for Stain. Let’s put them in a bind. Kurogiri, bring the Nomu. All of them.”

“Nomu?” you squeak, even as multiple portals open around you. “You have more than one?”

“We have lots. Sensei only gave me three.” Tenko gestures proudly at the monsters emerging from the portals. Everything about them looks like they’ve been put together wrong, from their staring eyes to their featureless faces to their pasty skin that smells like rot. The news reports about the attack on UA were clear about one thing – the Nomu that faced off against All Might was fast and extremely strong. “What do you think?”

One passes close to you and you cringe away, closer to Tenko. “They’re awful.”

“Exactly,” Tenko says. He stares down at the city, an expression on his face that’s somehow grim and vicious at once. “Let’s see what the rest of them think.”

The Nomus crawl down the sides of the building and vanish into the city. Tenko hasn’t given them orders, and neither has Kurogiri. You have questions – a lot of questions – but you’re not sure what it’s safe to ask. You’re Tenko’s sidekick, but that doesn’t mean his plans are yours to comment on. It feels weird to keep quiet, too. You and Tenko used to get in trouble for talking in class because you never ran out of things to talk about.

“You don’t look weird.”

You cough. “What?”

“You don’t look weird,” Tenko says again. You look at him, surprised, and find him looking straight ahead, peering through the binoculars. “I should have let you fix my shoulder the rest of the way.”

“What did you end up doing with it?” You reach over and part the cut fabric on his shoulder, wincing as you get a look at the bandaging job. “Next time, just let me finish.”

“Can you fix the rest of it?”

“I can’t do more stitches when it’s been open this long,” you say. Tenko grimaces but doesn’t swear at you. “There’s a chance it’ll get infected. If it does –”

“I’ll send Kurogiri to find you.”

“Tell him to give me a heads-up instead of just snatching me. I might need to grab antibiotics and I don’t want to make two trips.”

Tenko nods like this makes sense, which it does, except for the context. You’re standing here on the roof of a building in a city that’s already facing one villainous threat, while your childhood best friend turned aspiring supervillain has just released another – on your advice, no less. You try to rationalize it. Hosu is crawling with heroes, like Tenko said. If they’re good heroes, they’ll divert their attention to protecting the civilians. Heroes fighting Nomus will get Tenko the headlines he wants for the League of Villains, and if nobody gets hurt aside from the heroes who signed up for the job –

You need to be careful with that line of thinking. With that line of thinking, you could excuse what happened to the students during the attack on UA. “Can I ask you something?” you say, and Tenko nods. “Why did you go after the students?”

“I wasn’t after them. The point was All Might.”

“But you brought all those other villains,” you say. “On the news they said that Kurogiri moved the kids all over the training facility so the villains could kill them. And –”

You’re thinking of something else you heard, from Kazuo – that Tenko tried to kill at least three students directly, and All Might’s arrival was the only thing that stopped him. “He was supposed to be there from the beginning,” Tenko says. “All Might. Dividing the students up was supposed to distract him. Split his focus so he’d be more vulnerable to Nomu.”

You don’t know what you were expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. “Those villains were weak,” Tenko continues. “The brats could deal with them on their own. It would have taken All Might two seconds. But two seconds is all we would have needed.”

“So it was – strategy.”

“Yeah.” Tenko lowers his binoculars, glances at you. “Do you believe me?”

The words leave your mouth before you can think better of them. “I’d believe you more if I could see you.”

Tenko was in the process of looking away. Now he glances back, and you can tell he’s startled, even through the fingers of the hand. You’re not sure what the hands are for. When he attacked the USJ, he was wearing multiple sets, but usually he only wears Father around you. You haven’t asked him to remove the hand before – only asked him where it was when he wasn’t wearing it, and when you think it over, you can’t see any commonalities between the times when it’s off and the times when it’s on. Maybe it’s the kind of thing you can ask about now that you’re Tenko’s sidekick again.

Tenko grips the binoculars one-handed, reaching up to remove the hand with the other. “The brats weren’t the real target,” he says.

“But you still tried to kill three of them.”

“Yeah,” Tenko says, like it doesn’t matter, without care – and without malice. “They were right there, and I thought All Might wasn’t coming. Everybody had to see how he failed again.”

Again? You’re not the biggest All Might fan, but you don’t remember hearing about All Might failing to save children who were being held hostage. In fact, when All Might has to prioritize, he saves children first. Tenko is watching you now. “Do you believe me?”

“I believe you,” you say, and you see his shoulders relax. “You’re not a very good liar.”

He never was. When you were trying to get away with things as children, you did the talking. Tenko’s job was to stay quiet and not make eye contact with whichever adult was questioning the two of you. No matter how desperate he was not to get caught, a few seconds of eye contact was enough to break him. In the present, Tenko smiles slightly. “Lucky I’ve got you.”

You like seeing him smile, and you’ve seen it twice tonight. The knot in your chest relaxes, only to tighten again as a chorus of screams rise from the city below. Tenko lifts his binoculars eagerly and you twist your hands together, trying to contain your unease. You have your best friend. He wants you with him – his sidekick, just like you used to be. You still know how to make him smile. And he’s a villain, the kind of villain who, when his plan to kill All Might looked like it wouldn’t pan out, decided to kill three children instead. What are you doing here?

More screams from below. You wonder how many civilians are being hurt, how many heroes are protecting them versus chasing Stain. You know there’s a free clinic branch in Hosu, one that’s open overnight just like yours is. They’ll be busy tonight. At least you won’t have to worry about them treating injured villains as well as civilians.

Or will they? What are the Nomus, exactly? Where did they come from? Is that the kind of question you’re allowed to ask Tenko now that you’re friends again? “Um,” you start, but he doesn’t look at you, just keeps peering through the binoculars. Sometimes he focuses so hard it’s like his ears stop working. You remember that from when you were kids. “Tenko?”

He still doesn’t answer. You reach out, touch his shoulder, and he startles so badly that he drops the binoculars. If he grabs them with all five fingers, they’ll disintegrate. You catch them for him, since it’s your fault, and pass them back once he’s ready. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s – fine.” Tenko’s shoulder is tense beneath your hand. You’re still touching him, and you shouldn’t be. You pull your hand back. “What is it?”

“The Nomu,” you say hesitantly. “What are they?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri warns. “You should not –”

“She won’t tell,” Tenko says without looking at him. He hasn’t put the hand back over his face. “They’re – I guess you could call them zombies. They’re made from bodies. Usually two or three bodies, and three or four quirk factors. It’s usually the same quirk factors. Shock absorption, regeneration, speed. I don’t care if you touch me.”

You’re too busy trying to wrap your head around the fact that somebody’s figured out how to raise the dead to catch the last thing. It takes you a second to get to it, and even then, you have to ask a clarifying question. “You don’t care? Or you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.”

Something is wrong with you. Something is really wrong with you that you’re more interested in why Tenko doesn’t mind if you touch him than in the fact that Tenko has multiple zombies at his disposal to turn loose on unsuspecting heroes and civilians. You try to focus. “Where do the bodies come from?”

“I don’t know,” Tenko says. He’s frowning slightly. A moment later, he puts the hand back on his face – but before you can decide if it’s because he’s mad at you, he hands you the binoculars. “Look.”

You look through them. You’re looking in the wrong spot, and after a few seconds of trying to give you directions, Tenko gives up and just covers your hands with his, moving you in the right direction. His index fingers are lifted, protecting you from his quirk. You see what he wanted you to look at quickly enough – heroes facing off against the Nomus. Endeavor facing off against the Nomus. It looks like the heroes chose right.

You can’t deny that it’s a relief. The civilians will always be your priority, and even if almost everyone has a quirk, most of those quirks are useless when it comes to defending against zombies with multiple quirks, and they’re banned from using them anyway. But you have the sense that Tenko’s not pleased, and when you look at him, you see him scowling behind the hand. “They’re making it look too easy,” he complains.

“These Nomu were not as strong as the Nomu from USJ,” Kurogiri says. “You were made aware, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“These heroes aren’t as strong as All Might,” Tenko snaps in response. “Master set me up – again –”

You spot something through the binoculars. Something Tenko needs to see. You push them back into his hands. “Look at that.”

Tenko’s still scowling, but he lifts the binoculars to peer through them. A second later he startles. Even without the binoculars, you can see a dark shape in distant flight over the city, something clutched in its claws. You don’t know who the Nomu grabbed, or where it’s taking them, but Tenko can’t fail to be pleased with that. Can he?

He can. A moment later he swears. “Fucking Hero Killer –”

Your heart sinks. “What happened?”

“He killed it. To save some hero brat.” Tenko’s binoculars are crumbling in his hand. You wonder if he even notices. “Fucking Hero Killer. Fuck!”

You’re pretty sure that’s not the end of the story. The Hero Killer saved a hero, after claiming that there’s only one true hero, and it’s All Might? You slide your phone out of your pocket, clear a bunch of notifications from your friends’ group chat, and navigate to Twitter. Somebody’s got to be reporting on this live, and sure enough, you find “Hero Killer” trending, plus a livestream of Stain’s arrest. He’s getting arrested, and with at least twenty murders under his belt, there’s no way he’s getting out of Tartarus in this lifetime. You touch Tenko’s shoulder again – after all, he said it was fine – and speak quietly. “Hey.”

“What?”

He won’t look at you. “Look at this,” you say instead, holding out your phone. “The heroes got him.”

“So?”

“So that’s it for him,” you say. “He’s going to prison for the rest of his life. All Might’s definitely not going to fuck him now.”

It’s quiet for a second, aside from a wheeze emanating from somewhere behind the two of you. It’s still weird to hear Kurogiri laugh. You don’t even know if he has lungs. Beside you, Tenko’s doing everything in his power to hang onto his scowl, and it’s not working very well. “Is that the only joke you know?”

You feel a surge of relief. “I’ll stop using it when you stop laughing at it.”

You hear the sound of helicopter blades in the distance, growing closer. Tenko can hear it, too. “Kurogiri, let’s go. We’re done here.”

You barely have a second to wonder where you’re headed before the black mist wells up, and you’re not entirely surprised to find yourself back in the bar. Kurogiri’s behind it already. Tenko’s sitting at it, the chair next to his kicked outwards. As you watch, Kurogiri sets two glasses down and lifts an unopened bottle of champagne. He opens it, pouring first Tenko’s glass, then the glass in front of the empty chair.

Tenko glances over his shoulder, spots you, and gestures impatiently at the chair. You sit down next to him and study the glass of champagne. Tenko’s already chugging his, but he stops halfway and glances at you. “Why aren’t you drinking it?”

You could lie, but you don’t want to. “I watched him pour it, and I don’t think you’d drug me. But I still have to be careful.”

Tenko doesn’t look offended. Instead he swaps glasses with you, and Kurogiri makes a discontented noise. “She doesn’t want to drink your backwash, Tomura. Even if you did brush your teeth before we left.”

“Shut up,” Tenko snaps at him. He’s turning red again. You look down into your new glass, trying not to laugh. “I brush my teeth all the time. You’re not special.”

That one gets you. You start laughing, and Kurogiri makes that weird wheezing sound. You’re starting to realize that unlike the villain you met earlier today, who was all over the place, Kurogiri’s got two distinct aspects – one that’s more formal, more severe, and another that’s significantly more relaxed. The second one sounds younger, too, and the impression only grows stronger when Kurogiri speaks again. “If you drink someone else’s backwash, it’s like making out with them indirectly.”

“No it isn’t! I didn’t ask you!”

Tenko is bright red and sputtering, and Kurogiri’s yellow eyes are crinkling, almost the way a person’s would. It occurs to you what this aspect of Kurogiri reminds you of – a sibling. You teased your younger siblings the exact same way, when you could get away with it. Well aware that you’re making some kind of statement about the whole thing, you pick up the glass that used to be Tenko’s and take a small sip. It doesn’t taste like anything but champagne.

When you look up, you find Tenko and Kurogiri watching you. Staring, more accurately – Tenko’s jaw is dropped. You will your face not to flush. “Thanks for switching with me. As long as you don’t pass out in the next half an hour, we’re good to go.”

“So you have to stay at least that long.”

He doesn’t want you to leave. You take another sip of champagne, giving yourself time to get under control. You don’t want Tenko to know how pleased you are with the thought, or how ambivalent you are at being pleased by it. “I guess I do.”

You stay for another hour and a half, reading over the news coverage of the Nomu attack and the Hero Killer’s capture until you can barely keep your eyes open. But you have an early morning, and even though Tenko complains that you have to go and makes fun of you for agreeing to take Yoshimi to her appointment, he doesn’t suggest that you back out of it. As Kurogiri is determining where to set a warp gate to send you back to Yokohama, you ask him why not.

Tenko gives you a weird look. “I know you,” he says. “That’s not who you are.”

He’s right. It isn’t. And as much as you’re pleased by the thought that your best friend still knows you after all these years, the disquiet lurking underneath it follows you home, curls up on your chest as you try to fall asleep. You’re not the kind of person who’d turn your back on a friend, or go back on your word once you’ve given it. But apparently you’re the kind of person who watches a villain turn monsters loose on innocent people and does absolutely nothing to stop him.

You might have made your choice already. You might have stepped over the line. But you have a bad feeling that you’ll be looking back over your shoulder at it until it’s vanished over the horizon, knowing you made the wrong call and knowing deep in your bones that there’s nothing else you could have done.

You’ve done basically nothing, but you still get the sense that you’re leading a double life. You comfort yourself with the thought that even if you went to the police, you’d have nothing useful to tell them. You don’t know where Tenko’s hideout is. You don’t know anything about who makes the Nomus or where they’re hidden. You don’t know anything about Kurogiri except that it seems like there are two personalities in there, and what Kazuo said about his quirk not being natural. You’re still not sure what Kazuo meant by that. Just like you’re not sure who Tenko’s master is.

The things you know would be absolutely useless to them. You know that Tenko recovered from his USJ injuries only to get immediately slashed up by Stain. You know Tenko likes champagne but can’t hold his liquor for shit. You know he’s smart and strategic, a lot more than the news gives him credit for, which is bad for them and probably also bad for you. You know he likes video games more than he did when he was a kid, but he likes you just as much as he did back then. You like him just as much, too. Probably too much.

You haven’t seen him again since that night in Hosu. You know he’ll send Kurogiri to find you if he needs you, and the fact that he doesn’t need you means he’s not getting hurt. But you’re watchful anyway. No matter where you’re walking, day or night, you find yourself keeping a close eye the shadows, watching from your peripheral vision in case one of them hides a warp gate. Or better yet, hides Tenko.

“Hypervigilance,” Kazuo remarks when he catches you at it, one partly cloudy day in early June. “A hallmark of traumatic stress. You could benefit from counseling.”

“It’s not wrong to be wary,” you say. “Things are more dangerous than they used to be. Don’t you feel it?”

“Another hallmark of PTSD. Persistent, negative cognitions about yourself, others, or the world, exemplified by statements like The world is more dangerous than it used to be.” Kazuo can be a real asshole sometimes. “But you’re correct. Crime rates have steadily increased as All Might’s taken a step back from the public eye.”

“You really think it’s All Might?” You glance sideways at Kazuo. “Not the League of Villains?”

“The League of Villains is a symptom,” Kazuo says. The two of you got to the park early; the rest of your friends are running late for your meetup. “I looked into the backgrounds of those who were captured in the attack on USJ. For the most part, I found petty crime – thievery, fleeing from the police, physical violence committed in the course of fleeing a crime scene or an altercation with heroes.”

That tracks with the kind of villains you run into at work. Most of them have done next to nothing to earn the title. “Looking back further,” Kazuo continues, “I found poverty, substance abuse, quirk-based discrimination, childhood trauma. There were some among the criminals at USJ who sought violence specifically and consistently from an early age, but for the majority of them, it was far from inevitable that they would become criminals. It could have been otherwise.”

Thinking about what’s going on with Tenko, you’ve gotten in the habit of playing devil’s advocate. “And that’s on All Might? One hero can’t fix poverty, or childhood trauma –”

“No, they cannot. But the presence of heroes gives everyone else an excuse not to try to fix anything,” Kazuo says. He gives you a look. “There will always be some villains. The existence of enough villains to allow your friend to form a League of them means that society is failing.”

“You’re not wrong,” you say. Usually when you admit that Kazuo’s right, he moves on, but this time he keeps looking at you. “What?”

“At least try to deny it,” Kazuo says, and you know what he’s talking about. “One day I won’t be the one asking.”

You know he’s right, but as much as Tenko occupies your thoughts, you don’t have much time to dwell on him on a daily basis. Yoshimi’s sick, cancer in her lymphatic system, and with her family out of the picture and her shitty boyfriend dumping her the second he found out, you and your friends are on overdrive trying to support her. Since you’re the only one who works in the field, a lot of the daily stuff is falling on you. You’ve been taking some shifts at the central clinic so you can check in on her while she’s there for treatments, and since the high school students are all studying for their medical assistant exams, you’ve been grabbing fill-in night shifts at your regular clinic at the same time. You’re getting four hours of sleep a night, if that.

You’re exhausted. So exhausted that, when the shadows in the corner of your vision turn out to be mist as you’re walking home from the park, you keep walking straight into Kurogiri’s warp gate without a second thought.

When you arrive in the bar, Kurogiri seems surprised to see you. “I thought you might run.”

“I’m too tired to run,” you say. “Does he need me?”

Kurogiri nods, as much as a person with mist for a head can nod. “Follow me.”

You balk when you realize where you’re headed. “He doesn’t want me in there.”

“He asked me to bring you there specifically,” Kurogiri says. “Don’t worry. He’s cleaned.”

“Oh.”

The door to Tenko’s room is open, but Kurogiri knocks anyway. “Shigaraki Tomura, the girl –”

“You’re here.” Tenko appears suddenly in the doorway, the hand clamped over his face. “That was fast. You didn’t run away?”

“What kind of sidekick runs when their boss calls?” You look Tenko over. “Kurogiri said you needed me. Are you hurt?”

“My shoulder’s a mess,” Tenko says, unconcerned. “I needed to talk to you. Come in.”

He takes a few steps back, leaving room for you to step through the door. The memory of how Tenko reacted last time is still fresh in your head, and based on Tenko’s expression, he can tell. “I cleaned it,” he says impatiently. “Come in.”

In spite of the fact that your best friends have usually been boys, you haven’t spent a lot of time in boys’ rooms. The ones you have been in aren’t exactly standard. Kazuo’s room looked like an interior design magazine spread even before his mind snapped, so minimalist it was hard to imagine anyone actually living there. Sho’s room looks more like a girl’s room than yours does. Tenko’s room back when you were kids just looked like a kid’s room. Like how you would have wanted your room to look if you weren’t already sharing it with two siblings.

Tenko’s room, compared to the last time you saw it, is no longer filthy. You can see the floor, at least, and some rearranging has occurred. The desk and monitor setup has been shifted unceremoniously into one corner of the room, and on the wall where it previously sat is a flatscreen TV. You can see that it’s hooked up to a router, as well as a cable or smart TV box, and there are a few consoles and controllers strewn around nearby. Across the room from the TV is a coffee table. And behind that, a bed.

You gesture at it. “Was this here before?”

Tenko doesn’t answer. “Kurogiri, go,” he orders, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Kurogiri vanish from the doorway. “Sit down.”

You sit down on one end of the bed and Tenko sits on the other. He slides a collection of games across the coffee table to you. “I like all of these. You can pick which one we play first.”

“I’m not good at games.”

“I’ll teach you what you need to know,” Tenko says. He pushes the games at you again. “Pick.”

You start sorting through the games, searching in vain for any title you know while you try to shift the subject back into reasonable territory. “You said something was wrong with your shoulder. Can I look at it?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You said it was a mess,” you point out. “Let me see.”

“Pick a game and then you can see it.”

You see exactly one title you know – Call of Duty. You hold it up and Tenko frowns. “We can play that one for a bit. In co-op mode. But after that –”

“Show me your arm.”

Tenko scowls, but he moves from the other end of the bed until he’s within reach. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, oversized to the point where you can draw the neckline aside and reveal the wound. It’s clear that the stitches have been disturbed. The wound site is red and angry-looking and you can see scratches around it. There should be a scab on the part that Tenko wouldn’t let you stitch, but it’s clearly been peeled away. It’s either infected already or about to be, and either way, the healing process is going slower than it should be. A surge of frustration sweeps over you.

You look up at Tenko and find him watching you, unrepentant. “What?”

“You were scratching this.”

“It itched,” Tenko says. He gives you a weird look. “You never said not to.”

“I didn’t think I had to say not to scratch your open wounds.” Your frustration seeps into your tone. “You should have sent Kurogiri to get me as soon as the swelling started.”

“I tried. You’re always busy.” Tenko’s voice takes on the quality of a sneer. “Kurogiri’s been watching you for three days. You’re at that other clinic with that girl all the time.”

He didn’t use to be like this. He didn’t use to be jealous. “She has cancer. She needs someone –”

“She has other friends and doctors and parents and some loser boyfriend somewhere,” Tenko says. You start to argue that Yoshimi doesn’t have a boyfriend, courtesy of said boyfriend being a loser, but Tenko cuts you off. “She has lots of people. I only have you.”

He has Kurogiri, his master, the doctor, the Nomu – or does he? Shigaraki Tomura has those people. Tenko only has you. You peel your eyes from the angry mess Tenko’s wound has become and look up at him. “If I had known you needed me, I’d have found a way to be here. You’re my best friend.”

“I know. I –” Tenko breaks off, frustrated. “I didn’t mess with it so you’d come back.”

“I didn’t think that,” you say. “I know you scratch sometimes. It seems like less than before.”

“Only when you’re here.” Tenko shifts in his seat. You’re about to tell him he shouldn’t worry about that when he speaks again. “I feel different when you’re here. Can you fix it?”

“I’ll need to take the stitches out and clean it before I bandage it up again, but yes.” You look around for the medical supplies and Tenko pries open a drawer full of them. “Then we can play the game.”

“I can’t believe you like Call of Duty.”

“It’s just the only one I recognize,” you admit, and Tenko laughs. You like hearing him laugh. “Get ready to lose all respect for me. You might want a better sidekick.”

“I don’t need a better sidekick,” Tenko says. “I’m good enough for both of us.”

Warmth floods through you, pooling in your cheeks and your chest and the pit of your stomach. He remembers. You pull on a pair of gloves and open the suture kit. The sooner you rebandage his wound, the sooner you can play a game with your best friend for the first time since you were kids.

But after you’ve taken out the stitches, as you’re bandaging his shoulder, you notice something. The other times you’ve seen Tenko and treated his wounds, he’s been wearing long sleeves, and when you’ve cut them to get a look at the injuries, you haven’t paid much attention to whatever else might be underneath them. Now, with his arms exposed by design, you can see things you didn’t before. Tenko’s always scratched. After fifteen years of scratching he’d naturally have scars. But when the two of you were kids, you never saw him scratch his forearms. And you’ve never seen scratches look so uniform, so evenly spaced. You’ve seen things that look like that before. They weren’t scratches.

You look up and find Tenko looking at you already. “Sensei had me do them. So I’d be stronger,” he says. Your heart seizes in your chest. “Not in a while, though. When I got strong enough he let me stop.”

“That’s messed up.” You’ve been careful not to speak against Tenko’s master, not when you know so little about him, but you can’t hold back this time. “Hurting yourself doesn’t make you stronger. It just makes you hurt.”

“What would you know about it?”

“Lots. I see it every day.”

Tenko gives you a look that tells you just how little he thinks of whatever you’ve seen, and you lose patience. You let go of his arm and pull up the sleeve of your own short-sleeve shirt. “I don’t mean at work.”

Tenko’s jaw drops behind the hand. “Who made you do that?”

“Nobody made me. I did it myself, which makes me a lot dumber than you,” you say. Tenko’s lines are even. Yours are jagged, because you were angry or crying or hurrying to finish up before one of your siblings needed the bathroom or your mom came back to keep arguing with you. “Was your master trying to make you stronger? Or was he trying to teach you not to show when something hurts?”

Based on the way Tenko’s red eyes flash, you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. “What were you trying to do, then? When you were being dumber than me?”

You were being really dumb. So dumb that it’s embarrassing to talk about. “It’s a reset, biologically. Injuries force the body to release endorphins, which make you feel better for a little bit. There was a while where I had trouble controlling my temper. It helped me do that. Or at least not show it.”

“A while,” Tenko repeats. “You should have had trouble the entire fucking time.”

“I did,” you admit after a second. “You used to tell me it wasn’t okay, what my family was like. It took a while to believe you.”

Half the reason you didn’t believe Tenko was because you knew his family was messed up, too. No matter what else your dad did, he didn’t scream at you or lock you outside without dinner. But as you got older, you realized why your parents didn’t do that: They needed you too much. They needed your help with the extra kids they shouldn’t have had, and the older you got, the more it started to infuriate you.

You saw evidence of it everywhere, in places it was and places it wasn’t. They didn’t wipe your memory because they cared that you were upset about your missing friend, they did it because they needed you to be quiet and helpful instead of sad. They didn’t let you choose your favorite snack or go to a birthday party once in a blue moon because it was the fair thing to do, they did it so you wouldn’t complain about all the times you weren’t allowed to. They promised they’d make it up to you every time they shorted you in favor of your siblings with quirks, hoping the apology would make you forget. By the time you were fourteen, you weren’t forgetting anymore.

Tenko’s watching you from behind the hand, but you don’t want to be watched right now. You focus on placing the bandage. Maybe if you do that, you can pretend this isn’t happening. “What happened?” Tenko asks. “With your family.”

“Nothing,” you say. Nothing like what happened to his. “They’re out there. They call me on my birthday. Every so often they ask me for money. Do you really want to talk about this?”

Tenko doesn’t follow up. On that, at least. Three of his fingers brush across your exposed upper arm and it takes every ounce of self-control you have not to jump out of your skin. “These are old, right?”

“Not as old as yours,” you say. “They aren’t recent, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I stopped, so you should, too.” Tenko’s palm covers your upper arm for a moment, then lifts away. “It wouldn’t kill you to control your temper less, anyway. When was the last time you got really mad?”

“Three days ago. Yoshimi’s boyfriend ditched her, so I called him and lit his ass up.”

“Sure you did. I bet you never raised your voice,” Tenko says. You look up, offended. “You probably sounded like some kind of evil shrink, telling him what a piece of shit he is and how you understand that he can’t help being an asshole but it would probably be best for everybody if he took a long walk off a short ledge –”

He’s mimicking the soft, semi-conciliatory tone you use when you’re trying to de-escalate a situation, looking at you from behind the hand with a smirk on his face. You’d get mad, except it’s a pretty accurate imitation, and you like the thought that he knows you well enough to pick on you like this. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about getting really mad. Really losing control. When’s the last time you did that?”

You can’t remember. You shrug helplessly. Tenko heaves an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a good thing we’re playing Call of Duty next. If getting your ass kicked in a video game can’t wind you up, nothing will.”

It’s been a while since you played an actual video game. You were bad at it then, and you’re really bad at it now. Tenko makes you play a round in single-player mode to see what you’re good at and where you’re weak, and he spends the entire time laughing so hard that you’re worried he’s going to dislocate a rib or fall off the couch. It takes you way too long to hide away from the enemies onscreen long enough to ask Tenko a question. “What’s so funny? I know I’m not doing it right –”

“You’re just –” Tenko wheezes, then makes an effort to get it together. “Up here in the corner of your display is the map. The dot is where you are. And then everything in front of you is your point of view. That’s why it’s called a first-person shooter.”

“I know,” you say. “The display –”

“You control that on this side of the controller. And that’s where your trigger is, too. The other side handles motion,” Tenko says. His shoulders are twitching, like they do when he’s trying to hold in his laughter. “I’ll watch the map for you. Just go where I tell you to go.”

“Okay.” You adjust your grip on the controller and prepare to be humiliated.

Tenko directs you to move straight forward, which you do. Then you make a left turn and jump up on a crate for a better firing angle, at which point someone shoots at you. “Shoot back,” Tenko orders. You press the trigger. “Nice work. Okay, now jump off the crate and –”

You jump off the crate as requested, but then you get your buttons jumbled, and instead of running in the direction Tenko told you to run, you find yourself bumping into the wall repeatedly with your viewpoint stuck directly upwards. “Tenko –”

Tenko is howling with laughter again. The hand dislodges and falls off his face, and you see his eyes crinkling at the corners, his smile just a little too big. Some girls in your class said his smile was creepy, but you always liked it. You liked that you always knew which of his smiles were faked and which weren’t. “I’m stuck,” you say, and he laughs even harder. “What did I do?”

“If you were doing what your character is doing right now, you’d be doing this.” Tenko mimics pointing a gun straight up at the sky, and suddenly you get why he’s laughing. “You’ve been running around like this –”

No wonder you keep running into walls. Now you’re laughing, too. “You weren’t kidding,” Tenko says, shaking his head. “You really are terrible at it.”

You set the controller aside and wipe your eyes. “You sure you don’t want a different sidekick?”

“I have the sidekick I want.” Tenko glances at you, almost shyly. “We’ll need allies, though. I want you to meet them.”

Your stomach lurches. “Do you have them already?”

“One of the brokers is bringing them. He finds them through the black market.” Tenko sets the controller back down in your hands, adjusting your fingers to the right buttons. Then he unpauses the game. “Once I have them all – go right. No, your other right. Once I have them all, I want you to meet them. I need them to work together, and to stay calm instead of fighting each other. You’re good at getting people to do that. Watch out, there are – nice work.”

He’s giving you a strange look. “What?” you ask. “I didn’t get killed yet.”

“You’re better at shooting people than running around. That’s weird.” Tenko’s expression stays odd for another moment; then he grins. “Works for me, though. As long as you don’t mess with your viewpoint too much, we can play together.”

“Works for me.” You’re still going to be pretty useless, but at least you can protect Tenko’s back. That’s more than you’d be able to do in a real fight. The thought kicks off a flood of anxiety, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself speaking out loud. “Tenko –”

He pauses the game mid-switch to co-op mode. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know if I can help you the way you need me to,” you say. He gives you a skeptical look. “Medical stuff is one thing. I’m good at that. If your allies need help with that, I’ll help them, too. But the rest of it, I’m not – planning, getting people to follow you –”

“I can do that part. But villains fight all the time. Like kids do,” Tenko says. He smiles slightly. “If you can handle me, they’ll be easy for you.”

“But I know you,” you say. “It’s different.”

“So you’ll get to know them, too.” Tenko’s confident, just like you remember him being. Once he’s decided how something will be, it’s hard to shake him. “Come on. Let’s clear this level.”

It’s an easy level, or you think it’s supposed to be. You spend most of your time running backwards, keeping one eye on the map so you don’t lose track of Tenko and the other eye out for enemies of any kind. On reflection, you do think your accuracy with shooting is a little weird. Between this level and the next one, you rack up a decent number of kills. “You’re already getting better,” Tenko says, grinning. “I bet we can beat this thing if we keep playing.”

“I’d like that,” you say – but you’re still thinking about Tenko’s semi-crazy idea that you meet a bunch of villains for crowd control. “About the allies – you trust me, but they won’t have any reason to. I’m still a civilian.”

“You’ll need a disguise,” Tenko says, which wasn’t what you were hoping he’d say. “Something that hides your face. “If any of them have a problem with you, they can take it up with me.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The idea of Tenko getting into it with other villains over you makes you feel sick. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I don’t want you to get hurt at all. You’re my best friend.”

“I’m not your boss,” Tenko says, which doesn’t make any sense. Your confusion must show on your face, because Tenko elaborates. “Earlier. You said sidekicks don’t run from their bosses, but I’m not your boss. I don’t want to be your boss. I want –”

He breaks off, clearly struggling with what to say. There’s a patchy flush coming up in his cheeks, and you see his hand rise, twitch toward his neck – then fall back. “I don’t want to be your boss,” he says again, looking everywhere but into your eyes. “I want – you should –”

“Shigaraki Tomura.” Kurogiri’s voice issues from behind you, and you and Tenko both jump. “Your master wishes to speak with you. You are overdue.”

“Shit,” Tenko mutters. His grip on the controller tightens, and you lift it out of his hands before all five fingers can touch it. “Where’s – I need –”

“Here.” You pick up the hand from the floor and pass it to him, feeling a chill go down your spine as you touch it. “Go talk to him. It’s okay.”

“I’m late. It isn’t.” Tenko settles the hand back over his face. His free hand rises again, clawing at the side of his neck, and something about the image, the situation, feels uncomfortably familiar to you. “I’ll send Kurogiri to get you again soon. For another date.”

“This was a date?”

“Of course it was.” Tenko gets up, heads for the door. “Remember. Find a disguise. I’ll see you soon.”

He’s gone, and a second later, so are you – Kurogiri drops you in an alley off the street you were walking on. He lingers for a moment, and the question explodes out of you. “It was a date?”

“I told him it’s not a date unless both people know it’s a date.” Kurogiri looks vaguely uncomfortable, and his voice is in the other register – the one that sounds more like an older brother than a servant. “Next time I’ll tell him I can’t find you.”

“Don’t do that,” you say at once. Even reeling like you are now, you’re sure that you want to see Tenko again. “Just – warn me, if you can. If it’s a date or something else.”

“I can do that.” Kurogiri vanishes, but his voice lingers for a moment more. “You protect him, too.”

What does that mean? Maybe it means that Kurogiri sees you like he sees himself – a protector of Shigaraki Tomura, although if there’s anyone you’re trying to protect, it’s Shimura Tenko, your best friend. Your best friend, who’s in a lot more trouble than you thought he was.

You’re standing in the middle of an alley. You need to get moving before someone peeks in here and starts asking questions. You slide your phone out of your pocket, raise it to your ear, and lower it as you step back out into the flow of traffic on the sidewalk, like you were taking a call that just ended. Your apartment’s not far away, so you’ll get there, and then you can think about all of this. The villains – the date – the scars on Tenko’s arm that look too much like yours – the scratching that didn’t start until after the hand covered his face. The hand he calls Father.

And that’s when you realize what it reminded you of, what happened when Kurogiri told Tenko his master was waiting for him. He was himself when you spoke to him, even after he put the hand back over his face – right down to how he reacted when his master called for him. Because his reaction looked the same as his reaction to his father calling for him when the two of you were kids.

You had a bad feeling about Tenko’s master, and now it’s worse. You have a bad feeling about what your involvement with Tenko means now, because he wants you to back him up when it comes to dealing with other villains, to take the de-escalation and conflict resolution skills you learned the hard way and put them to use keeping a band of villains together under Tenko’s control. You have a bad feeling because Tenko’s told you to find a disguise, to hide your identity like the villain you aren’t. You aren’t a villain. Are you?

Maybe you aren’t a villain – yet, a voice in your head whispers, you aren’t a villain yet – but there’s something wrong with you. There must be. Because knowing all that, knowing that you’re getting drawn further into Tenko’s plans, doesn’t do a thing to dampen your excitement at the thought that he wants to go on dates with you. That he likes you. That your best friend, who you always thought you’d have developed a crush on if the two of you had gotten to grow up together, might feel the same about you as you do about him.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #x reader #self insert #reader insert #please hold

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zaebeecee · 5 months ago

Text

Fight and Flight ••

Pre-RadioDust Oneshot •

Read on AO3

•••

Based on this headcanon from @alastorsfluffydeertail. Thank you for letting me use this as a prompt, my dear, and I’m sorry I took it a bit off the rails (as I am wont to do). This is what I get for never planning anything out.

But also if anyone thinks the Hazbin Hotel residents wouldn’t prank each other, they’re wrong.

•••

When Angel Dust had first agreed to move into the Hazbin Hotel (back when it was the Happy Hotel, whose name alone was almost enough to make him refuse no matter how well he was paid for the evening), it was the first time in his entire existence in Hell that he had known exactly what to expect. The princess had a fucking stupid plan about getting sinners into Heaven and her bodyguard/girlfriend/what the fuck ever was apparently determined to help her see it out; Angel knew a hopeless cause when he saw one, and more importantly, he knew how to capitalize on it.

Of course, he had forgotten one very key detail: sinners were human at their core, and when humans spent a lot of time in close proximity, they got to know each other really well. And when people got to know each other really well, that meant bonding was basically unavoidable.

It was easy to forget the ‘human’ factor of sinners at VoxTek, particularly when someone spent too much time around the Vees. Sometimes, Angel thought of them as less ‘humans’ and more ‘evil entities that had learned how to mimic the worst of human behavior with extra capitalism’, and because of that he had kept company with them as little as possible since Valentino had showed his true colors and backhanded Angel for the very first time. But the Hazbin Hotel was not VoxTek, and the other residents of the hotel were not the Vees. They were mostly relatively normal people, when you put aside things like noble station and overlord rank, and that complicated Angel’s initial plan.

Originally, he had agreed simply to take advantage of not having to pay rent and not having to live under Val’s thumb at all times. It was a simple scheme: follow just as many rules as he absolutely had to in order to avoid getting kicked out, keep as much of his drug usage off the property as he could, and bat his eyes and make super sappy apologies about ‘trying his best’ whenever he got caught. It would have gone great if not for one tiny little hiccup.

He liked them.

Damn them to a lower ring of Hell, but Angel liked the fuckers, and it wasn’t long before he realized that they were becoming friends. Of course, they were also a bunch of pricks who’d been punished with eternal damnation for the crime of being assholes in life, so with friendship came the inevitable bullshit of having asshole friends. This, frequently, meant pranks of varying degrees of severity and creativity.

In Angel’s defense, he didn’t start it. The whole thing began when someone (who was never actually identified) convinced all of the Egg Bois that they were named after different members of the Rat Pack (to go with Frank) and that Pentious really loved being serenaded with ‘Ain’t That A Kick In The Head’ at all times. It had started out kind of funny—the Egg Bois couldn’t keep time with each other and it got even worse when they tried to manufacture their own Dean Martin impersonations—but it had quickly grown into the absolute worst thing Angel had ever had the displeasure to suffer. Husk, accurately, determined that it was “proof of Hell’s eternal punishment”. Eventually, Charlie helped Pentious right them, but it was way, way too late.

The war was on, and it quickly spread to everyone in the hotel without mercy. And, unpredictably, it seemed everyone was in on the game in one capacity or another.

Everyone had their own weak points when it came to getting ‘punk’d’, as Vaggie called it with an impressively straight face. Charlie could be convinced of just about anything if you said it with enough conviction, and Husk was alarmingly easy to gaslight if you could rearrange or abscond with his bar equipment when he wasn’t looking. Niffty was, of course, weak to cleaning pranks (but they had quickly determined the Stabbing Threshold, which was the point where it wasn’t funny anymore and she would legitimately gut someone), and you could do a million things to Pentious if you got into his lab, as long as you didn’t break anything. Angel was particularly proud of the time he got Vaggie to fully arm herself and go all the way up onto the roof of the hotel to ‘challenge an intruder’ who ended up being a hellsquirrel, but she had gotten him back by coming into the kitchen while he was cooking, staring him dead in the eye, and breaking all of the spaghetti before he could stop her.

And Alastor? Well, no one could get into his room, or his radio tower, or even find him if he didn’t want to be found, which rendered him immune to most forms of planned tomfoolery. But when he was there? He was easy, because he was a jumpy fucker if you caught him off guard, and a single loud noise close enough behind him would send him shadow teleporting onto some other surface (the mantle of the lobby fireplace on one particularly memorable occasion).

It was fun. Or, at least, it was supposed to be fun. That was why they had a set number of rules: no staining anything Niffty had to clean (and no glitter, which was a personal rule for Angel after that one time), no making Charlie cry, no breaking Pentious’s equipment or Husk’s bottles, no fucking with Vaggie’s weapons and armor, and absolutely nothing involving Fat Nuggets. Other than that, it was open season on everyone.

Charlie was conducting one of her little trust building exercises one evening, the entire hotel (sans Alastor) her captives for the duration of the entire exercise. Cherri had made the mistake of showing up just before it began, and curiosity had roped her in; now, she was sitting next to Angel and watching Charlie coaching Vaggie and Husk through some kind of role playing exercise with an open sort of fascination.

“Is it always like this?” Cherri murmured, leaning on Angel’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Angel whispered back. “I got no fuckin’ idea how this’s supposed to get us redeemed, tho, all it’s ever done is made me hate kids.”

Cherri snorted. “Why isn’t Radio Face here?”

Angel rolled his eyes. “He’s the hotelier,” he said, exaggerating Alastor’s transatlantic delivery and overly precise French pronunciation. “He don’t gotta participate, apparently, because he ain’t up for bein’ made better or whatever. Come to think of it, I ain’t seen him in a few days. Think he’s been out.”

Like Angel had spoken a cue, the radio on the lobby table made gentle static noises, and a couple of the lights flickered, just slightly. Everyone stopped, glancing around, because that meant one thing: Alastor was nearby, and he was either very angry or very tired, and either way it meant he wasn’t checking his power as much as he usually did. It had freaked Angel out the first time, but eventually, he learned to interpret it as a sign that Alastor was returning after a long bout of ‘personal business’ and probably wasn’t going to be bothering any of them.

Cherri grinned. “I’m gonna fuck with him,” she said into the silent room.

Angel let out a single barking laugh as Charlie said, “Oh, no, don’t, he’s probably exhausted.”

“That’s the best time to get him,” Husk said reasonably, immediately discarding the script he’d had thrust on him as soon as he noticed that Charlie wasn’t focusing on him anymore. “He’ll probably be too tired to actually retaliate.”

“Besides,” Pentious said, “he hasn’t exactly held back with anyone else. I’m still positive he started this. I just need to prove it,” he hissed, hunching over his clasped hands and rubbing them together.

Niffty patted the table with her palms a few times, grinning brightly. “I wanna see Cherri scare Alastor~”

“You can’t scare Alastor,” Angel said with a disbelieving snort. “Startle him, sure, but scare? Bullshit.”

Vaggie sighed. “Do I need to prepare damage control?”

“Relax, I’m not gonna cause property damage,” Cherri said. “I just wanna get the bitch back for what he did to my stuff last time I was here. I’m still finding ticker tape everywhere, even in my own goddamn apartment.”

Charlie looked uncomfortable, but of course, she was always the most hesitant when it came to their petty little game. “Okay, I guess that’s fine,” she said reluctantly. “But don’t overdo it, okay?”

Everyone waited with bated breath, Cherri tossing a small bomb over to the corner near the front door. It was only a few seconds before they heard the click and Alastor stepped in, looking as though he had been through the wringer and was doing his damndest to hold it together. He didn’t even notice any of them, shutting the door behind him and immediately beginning a slow beeline for the stairs.

Angel had only half a second to form the thought that it might not be a great idea after all when Cherri clapped her hands sharply and the little bomb behind Alastor went off with a loud crack and a spark of bright pink light. The sound Alastor made wasn’t quite a scream; it was really more of a startled yip, a high and animalistic noise that hurt Angel’s ears with its sharp edge. He bolted instantly, dropping his microphone staff along the way and running blindly straight into a wall. There was a loud impact as he collided with the immovable structure of the hotel, the sound a little weird and followed by a series of loud yelps. Almost immediately, everyone could see exactly what happened: in his alarm, Alastor’s antlers had expanded, and they were now stuck pretty firmly in the wall.

Cherri was the first one who laughed, but she wasn’t the only one. Angel had to admit, it was funny, watching the big bad Radio Demon struggle to unstick himself from a wall, of all things. The laughter was contagious, spreading through the group in a rippling wave. In moments, the only one who wasn’t laughing was Charlie, who dropped her own script pages and ran straight over to try and help Alastor liberate himself.

Angel leaned forward as Cherri slapped his back in her laughter, and he rubbed a tear of mirth out of his eye, looking over to where Charlie was failing to even approach the struggling overlord. Angel watched as he took a swipe at her with a clawed hand, ineffectually scrabbling at the wall with the other and kicking the baseboard in an attempt to extricate himself without retracting his antlers.

The moment Angel heard Alastor’s distressed keening noise, he realized Alastor couldn’t retract his antlers. He wasn’t just exhausted, he was panicking and…

Humiliated.

Angel jumped to his feet, guilt smothering his amusement like a bucket of water on a birthday candle. “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled over everyone’s cackling, his unusually sharp tone enough to startle all of them into a silence that highlighted the way Alastor’s breathing had become high and far too fast. Angel didn’t bother with any admonishment, instead running over to where the other sinner had trapped himself and taking Charlie by the shoulders. “Move,” he said, not taking his eyes off Alastor.

She looked up at him. “But— but he’s—!”

“I got it. Move.” As Charlie backed off, Angel approached, trying to put himself in Alastor’s line of sight. His sclera had gone entirely black and his smile was tight and stressed; Angel couldn’t actually see, but he was pretty sure Alastor’s irises had turned into radio dials. “Hey, Alastor,” he said gently, immediately bending backwards as the overlord took a vicious swipe at him, too. “Whoa, whoa, big guy, it’s okay.”

When Alastor put both of his hands on the wall and ineffectually shrugged with a cry that was almost pathetic, Angel took the opportunity to swoop in, hoping Alastor’s physiology was as close to human as it looked and that this didn’t get him gutted. He pushed one hand up into Alastor’s hair from his nape, cradling the back of his head with his palm and gently pressing his fingers into the bases of Alastor’s antlers. A second hand cupped the back of Alastor’s neck, thumb and forefinger immediately seeking out the pressure points at the base of his skull. His third hand went to Alastor’s back, stroking down his spine before lifting and repeating the motion as though he was trying to calm a stressed animal. And his fourth hand just rested on Alastor’s shoulder, primarily so he would feel it if the Radio Demon lashed out and could attempt to evade if necessary.

“Hey, Smiles, it’s okay, it’s just me,” Angel said as soothingly as he could when he felt Alastor’s muscles growing so taut that he feared the other demon would snap into pieces. “Shh, it’s okay, ain’t nobody in here gonna give you any shit, I promise. And if they try, I’ll kill ‘em for you, or at least hold ‘em down while you kill ‘em, okay?”

Angel kept up his gentle touches, leaning close to murmur low enough that only Alastor could hear him, and silently marveled at the fact that he was touching Alastor and Alastor was letting him. His hair was soft, and his coat was clearly made from expensive material, but even through the thick cloth Angel’s fingers could have counted his ribs and each individual vertebrae. And slowly, in response to his touch, Alastor actually began to relax. His breath slowed, his smile grew less tense, and with a crackle of broken plaster, his antlers slowly began to recede.

“You can rip everybody up into tiny pieces, and then I’ll help ya make jambalaya or gumbo or whatever you want outta their bits. Or I can make bolognese outta them. Whatever you’re feelin’.” That was enough to get the smallest noise of amusement from Alastor, more of a huff of breath than anything else, but with that his antlers returned to their usual shape.

As he finally freed himself from the wall, Angel made to release him, but Alastor spun to face him at an alarming speed and seized him by his upper arms. “Alastor—?!” Angel’s voice was a soft exclamation, but he froze, watching Alastor hang his head and regain control of his ragged and pained breathing.

Angel was anticipating having his arms ripped straight from his body—nobody touched Alastor, especially not when he wasn’t expecting it—but Alastor just held onto him like he was genuinely afraid Angel was about to disappear. His grip wasn’t even painful, just tight. Desperate, maybe, though with his panic gone Angel couldn’t begin to understand why. But even as he held onto Angel’s arms, Alastor’s wicked claws didn’t so much as scratch him, and his hands… they were soft.

It felt like an hour passed before Alastor’s breathing evened out, but Angel knew it was only a few seconds. Slowly, Alastor raised his head to look up at Angel, his ears laid flat against his head and his eyes wide, but no longer manic. Before, Angel had always associated Alastor’s eyes with the color of blood, but this close… they were more like deep garnet set into rich ruby. For the eyes of a mass murdering serial killer, they were almost alarmingly warm as they caught Angel’s gaze and held it.

“…thank you, Angel.”

The words were spoken so quietly Angel wouldn’t have heard them if Alastor hadn’t been mere inches from him. Before he could even consider formulating a response, the shadows Alastor so fondly called his friends swirled up from the ground, wrapping around his body and pulling him into blackness. It was his hands that pulled away last, gently releasing Angel’s arms and leaving trails with fingertips that made the spider’s flesh tingle. For the briefest moment, Alastor’s shadow remained, and Angel thought it was watching him with something that felt like wary curiosity before it too vanished.

Angel stared at the broken wall and the plaster that littered the carpet as Charlie stormed back to the group, lighting into them for being mean and immediately beginning to lay new ground rules, but Angel barely heard a word she said. He folded his arms and placed his hands where Alastor’s had been moments before, like he could still feel the other sinner holding onto him like a lifeline, and marveled at his own foolishness.

When, he wondered, had he started caring this much about Alastor’s wellbeing? When had Alastor decided that Angel Dust of all people was worthy of breaking his five foot rule, even in such extraordinary circumstances? When had Angel determined it was worth risking his own health and safety to prevent Alastor from hurting himself?

And, most importantly, what was he doing thinking about Alastor at all?

•

The next evening, Angel was in his bedroom cleaning his toys when a dome of shadow manifested on his floor mere feet away from him. He squealed in alarm, launching himself backwards and tumbling off the other side of his bed to land in a graceless heap on his floor. Swearing he could hear something giggling somewhere around him, he grabbed his comforter and hauled himself up, leaning on the mattress with his arms and peering around suspiciously.

The shadow was gone, and Angel didn’t see any threats or blood or threatening animal corpses. He did, however, see a plate sitting on his floor. That plate held a stack of some kind of pastries and a folded card with his name on it.

“…the fuck…” Angel muttered, clambering over his bed and hopping down to land beside the plate. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the plate was full of freshly-baked beignets, generously covered with powdered sugar and still so warm that the sugar was beginning to melt. He picked up the card and looked at the delicate penmanship spelling out ‘Angel Dust’, then flipped it open, taking in the simple message written so beautifully.

Tell no one. You know what will happen if you do.

Angel felt himself actually smiling in a way that he hadn’t for a very long time, folding the card again and pressing the corner to his lips. He considered for a moment, then glanced at a nearby shadow. “You can tell him I ain’t gonna let anybody know he baked somethin’ for me like a sweetheart.” He didn’t see Alastor’s shadow, but he heard another giggle and he knew it was there.

He picked up the plate and carried it to his bed, opening his bedside table drawer and slipping the note in with a few other belongings that he didn’t want anyone else seeing but liked having on hand. As he laid on his bed, petting Fat Nuggets and nibbling on delicious baked goods and texting with Cherri about how Alastor had apparently gotten into her apartment and hidden all of her explosive components around the city, leaving only a very obtuse list of scavenger hunt-style clues… Angel wondered if he was starting to remember what being happy felt like.

•••

#my writing #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #radiodust #hazbin radiodust #radiodust fanfic #queerplatonic radiodust #pre relationship #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin husk #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty #writing prompt #hazbin headcanons

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crowleys-bentley-and-plants · 3 months ago

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Blueprints To Ruin

I’m a control freak, master of order, architect of precision, mapping the uncharted with perfection, constructing a world where the edges are clear, where the shadows fall exactly as I intend. I thrive in the grip of structure, where every thread weaves through my hands, and every outcome bends to my will.

I love chaos, but only the kind I can contain, a storm I command to rage and calm, a dance I choreograph, each step calculated, every wild turn plotted, the thrill of disorder held firmly in my grasp. I pull the strings of unpredictability, knowing just how far to let them go, where to tighten, when to release, an orchestrator of carefully curated madness.

But you— you make me want to shatter my own rules, to let the strings slip, to dive headfirst into the abyss of the unknown, where nothing is certain, and everything is raw, alive, out of reach.

You are the wild wind that whips through my meticulous plans, scattering the pieces I once held so close, leaving me breathless, lost in a sea of emotions I never intended to feel. And now, I long to let go, to let the waves pull me under, and see what I become when the order I’ve clung to finally breaks.

I’m a control freak, but you make me want to be more, or maybe less— to strip away the layers of control until all that’s left is the core of who I am, untethered, unbound, free.

You are the catalyst to my undoing, the spark that sets fire to my well-ordered world, and though I fear the flames, I find myself drawn to the heat, craving the burn of a life lived without restraint. With you, control slips through my fingers, And for once, I don't mind the fall

So take me, take my carefully constructed world, and let it crumble in your hands, show me what it means to live without the need for control, to embrace the chaos, not as something to be feared, but as something to be loved, and in that love, perhaps, I will finally find what it means to be free

hmmmm i dont know about this one

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated💙

ao3 link if you wanna leave a comment there? :)

hii @crowleys-hips @bearthewhipsandscornsoftime @fearandhatred @ghostsparrow @eybefioro @seven-stars-in-his-palm @ficreader500 @foolishlovers @sabotage-on-mercury @crowleys-curl @crowleybrekkers @goodomensafterdark @notagoodlad @lickthecowhappy @goodoldfashionednightingale @spookyllamatree @wanderer-main @ineffabildaddy @marika-misc @captainblou @weasleywrinkles @chaoticgayomens @amagnificentobsession @thebookshoparoundthecorner @quintessentiallychemical @naturallyteal

let me know if you want to be added or removed

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens poem #good omens poetry #original poem #original poetry #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #go2

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 2 years ago

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Being Ahsoka Tano’s best friend would include

Pairings: Ahsoka Tano x reader

Imagine: being Obi-Wan’s padawan and Ahsoka’s best friend

Warnings: idk, Ahsoka leaving the order (I swear I can’t watch those episodes bc I cry every damn time, not because she’s leaving the order but bc she leaves people who care for her)

A/N I love Ahsoka and it’s a wonder I haven’t written anything for her before, but here I am writing for my fav girl so I hope someone out there will enjoy this <3

Becoming friends as soon as you both met, which was when you were still in training to become a padawan, which means you grew up with each other

You’d study with eachother

Hype eachother up if one of you is feeling sad or stressed, literally just helping eachother with emotions and anything in general

Ahsoka running to you filled with excitement to tell you she’s becoming a padawan and her master will be the one and only Anakin Skywalker

You doing the same to Ahsoka when you found out your master will be the one and only Obi-Wan Kenobi

Gossiping with each other

Getting in trouble together

Pranking people together with Fives, Waxer, Boil and a few others, you tried once to prank Cody, lesson learned you will never prank Cody again, he wasn’t to happy to have his helmet filled with blue and orange glitter (he still can find glitter to this day)

Obi-Wan now has to deal with three children (you, Anakin and Ahsoka) while Cody has to deal with more than five children (You, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Waxer, Boil…)

Did I mention getting in trouble together

Being another headache for the Jedi council and those who tries to protect you both and those trying to keep you out of trouble

Training your lightsaber skills with each other, being an excellent match because you always end up even because by know you know every move the other will make

Calling each other names that you hate just for the fun of it

If anyone else were to call either you or Ahsoka those names you would both go into protective mood, no one gets to call you two that but you two

Always defending and protecting each other, if it is when you get in trouble with the council or when you fight for example General Grievous doesn’t matter

I hate to write it down but sadly I think I need too after all it is a big part of Ahsoka’s life. When Ahsoka gets accused of the bombing I believe you would 100% side with her, you’re best fiends siblings after all and you always have each others backs. You try to help her prove her innocence but it didn’t go exactly as planned. We all know what happens and so when she decided to leave you were heartbroken, you couldn’t care less about the order you only cared about Ahsoka. You knew it was what she wanted so you let her go but you were still sad over it, and selfishly tried to convince her to stay because you didn’t want to be without her, after all you were practically siblings and grew up with each other. In the end she told you it was for the best and that she didn’t trust the order anymore, she’d always trust you and she did try to keep in contact with you but it was hard with the ongoing war

Then comes the times in the order without Ahsoka, and if I’m being honest I think you would kinda mope around when you thought no one was looking becasue you missed your best friend so much, your bad days become even worse because you didn’t have Ahsoka to cheer you up, but you managed as did Ahsoka who missed you as much as you missed her

I believe Obi-Wan would do his best to comfort you even though he knew as well as you that it would never be the same as Ahsoka comforting you and cheering you up, but he did his best, and that’s all you could of asked for

Anakin and you probably talked about Ahsoka a lot with eachother or avoided the topic all together

However Plo Koon talked to you about Ahsoka all the time

Skip to Ahsoka coming back with Bo-Katan to save Mandalore from Maul (why does autocorrect keep wanting to change his name to Mail), you convinced your master to let you come with Ahsoka, and so a new adventure started for the two of you

Then there’s order 66 and you, Ahsoka and Rex barely escaped

You and Ahsoka stuck together after that never leaving each other sides scared you would lose eachother again let’s not forget you got frequent calls from Rex and Obi-Wan talked to you sometimes through the force (but not much he was in hiding after all and so were you)

#x reader #x teen #x teen!reader #x you #star wars #Ahsoka Tano x reader #ahsoka tano x fem!reader #Ahsoka Tano x male!reader #Ahsoka Tano x gn!reader #Star Wars x reader #star wars the clone wars #Ahsoka Tano #Ahsoka Tano headcanon #headcanon #star wars headcanon #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader

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dragonwitch77 · 3 months ago

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Tiny

Chapter 12: Slow Days

Days were slowly passing by.

At this point, things had become a normal routine for Bittergiggle.

Work on new jokes, plan on how to get to the queen, try to teach Scylla how to talk, leave the hideout when the two clones started their usual daily arguments, swing by the Employee Exercise Sector to say hi to Kitty, relax there for a few hours with the kid, showing her various objects in the sector and what their names are and what they did, check the boxes to see if there was anything useful for him to use, head back to the hideout and slap the two if they were still arguing, write down whatever joke he thought up and help Scylla try to speak more.

He was honestly surprised at this point that he hadn’t made much progress on getting to the queen. Bittergiggle knew he was fairly smart. Smart enough to avoid the sheriff’s traps and how to get out of them, plus he knew roundabout ways to avoid detection by the humans.

Still, he should have at least thought of something by now to get to the queen. Yet, he hadn’t.

“How peculiar.” Bittergiggle said, tapping the end of a pencil against his face. “I’m usually not this bad at coming up with ideas.”

“A baba.”

“I mean, usually I lean more towards making jokes, but planning is something I’m a bit more capable at.”

“Aaaaaawwwwoooooooo.”

“Not that I’m saying that I’m bad at jokes or anything, I just like to plan things more than thinking of jokes! It takes waaaaay less effort to think of something funny than planning to get to a giant kangaroo.”

“Na a. Aaaaa ab ab ab.”

“Though, I maaaaaaay have underestimated the simplicity of this plan.”

“Awa?”

“See, it’s not the problem of getting to the queen. It’s the problem of getting around the only thing standing between me and the queen.”

“Aaa waa! Aa wawa!”

“Exactly! It’s not me who’s the problem. It’s the sheriff! That big old meanie pants. Hmph! Though, he… never really wears any pants… not that he would look good in pants… probably… maybe? Huh… what would he look like wearing pants?”

“Ba ba ba ba ba.”

“Wait, why am I thinking about that?”

“Aaaaabbbbbbbbbbaaaaaa.”

“Well it’s not my fault he would probably look good in pants or not! Wait, what?”

“… aaannnaaa.”

“Ignore that.”

“Aaaaaaaa.”

“Anyway, we need to focus here kid! Getting to the queen isn’t going to be a cakewalk you know!”

“Haaaaaaammmnana.”

“I mean, it would be a cakewalk if a certain sheriff wasn’t in the way. But that should be easy to get around… ish.”

“Woboobooboo!”

“The sheriff is a cunning man… toad. He’s built more elaborate and cunning traps than you ever had in your life. And you’ve only been alive for almost two months now.”

“Oooooobooo.”

“He’s fast. And strong. Super strong. Getting in a one-on-one fight with him would be out of the question. Not that I would ever dream of getting in a physical fight with someone like the sheriff. That’s a certain death sentence right there! A kick to the gut from that guy would be fatal! Hehe, it’d almost be a gut-punching irony if that would ever happen. Hehehehehehehehehehe. Haaaaa. But it won’t. The sheriff’s too nice of a guy to kill anyone. Even on accident.”

“Lababa ba ba.”

“So, we need to figure out a way to get the sheriff away from the queen or find a way to distract him. Because, let’s face it, Toadster is a very duty-driven kind of guy. He doesn’t know the definition of relax and can’t take a break without being ordered to by the queen.”

“Aaaoooooooo!”

“I mean, the first day we brought him back to the Kingdom, he went around setting up traps and patrolling the place for hours. Got lost so many times too. I had to show him the way back more than once before he memorized the layout!”

“Na! Na! Na!”

“Maybe that’s why I can’t use the secret pathways to get to the queen. I’m not gonna lie, that was a big oversight on my part. Never thought that would come back to bite me.”

“Baoo!”

“But that doesn’t matter! Oversight or not, getting to the queen will still be a piece of–are you eating my hand?”

Scylla let out a small gurgle around Bittergiggle’s fingers, nibbling the small area between a pair.

“Heeeeey. I’m not food, kid.” Bittergiggle huffed, lifting his hand. To his surprise, Scylla came along with it, her tiny limbs wrapped around the larger appendage in a shockingly tight grip.

He gave his hand a little shake, tilting his head this way and that. Lately, Scylla had been testing out her limbs once she realized that she had them, ogling at them or trying to stuff whatever part that she could into her mouth. He didn’t understand why she did it. She obviously couldn’t be doing this if she was hungry, which was impossible since she wouldn’t ever feel hungry or the need for food.

Maybe she just liked to nibble on things? Though Bittergiggle was quite sure he didn’t like to be the one nibbled on.

“Kid, my hand is for playing with. Not for attempt cannibalism.” The jester huffed, shaking the kid off his hand and plopping her back on the pillow that he may or may not have stolen a long time ago.

“Aba!” Scylla eyed the hand above her, reaching out to it with her little hands. “Aba! Aba!”

“No, you cannot eat my hand. I need it, if you want to eat someone’s hand, eat his.” The jester pointed to Hoidni, who upon hearing the statement, whipped his head around at the pair.

“What?!”

“Aba!” Scylla waved her hands about, looking at Bittergiggle with those big eyes of hers. “Aba!”

Bittergiggle stared at the tiny babbling jester for a long moment before letting out a sigh. “You make a fair point, kid. That’s very hard to argue right there.”

“Awawa!”

“Hey! I don’t even have a nose!”

#bittergiggle #garten of banban #gobb #story #gobb fanfic #tiny #experiment jesters

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gx-gameon · 7 months ago

Note

Oh man like I mentioned I have major brainrot for your au and a billion scenarios have been running through my head constantly.

I have no idea what the plan is for the second half of season three and I'm so excited to see what you come up with but my angst riddled brain just is going wild so scenario be upon thee

Upon the DM cast entering the Dark Dimension, Yubel realizes they have to do something to wear them down cause there's no way they can handle all then at once.

We know that Yubel can make copies of people, we see a copy of Jesse in the dark world that Yubel has killed in order to torment Jaden, and that's exactly what they would do to the DM cast. Make a copy of Jaden and shatter it in front of them.

Atem would be able to tell it's not actually Jaden due to his connections with spirits and the shadow releam but that wouldn't make it any less disturbing to have watched. I imagine Yugi would still freak and Seto would be down right murderous.

Ahhh I'm always nervous to share angst cause I know not everyone likes it so Imma stop myself from delving furth into that one but I can't stop thinking about these dark world scenarios things ever since I asked about the school being gone 😭🤣

Oh oh I love this. I love angst

Oh this works well with some of the ideas I already have going on.

Oh this is very evil. But I love it.

I’m a big Zelda nerd and this is basically part of the plot of the new Zelda game TOTK. Where the chase after what they think is the Princess but it turns out the be an illusion by the enemy. Oh I love this a lot.

Yes Atem would know the difference but the others wouldn’t. Not until he says something. And if they are all separated when this first happens…. Oh this could be so good

Because Yugi would be devastated at having to watch even an illusion of Jaden die.

Seto would be murderous, after he knows it’s a fake. But if he saw it and thought it was real I think it could break him.

Joey would absolutely fly into a rage.

Téa would be sobbing

Tristian is forgoing dueling and just physically beating whoever killed fake Jaden

And Atem might know it’s a fake but the moment fake Jaden dies his heart stops because what if he’s wrong? What if that was Jaden?

And it works very well with my first two ideas for what to do in the dark world arc which you can find over here.

Oh I will be thinking about this. This could very well become cannon but I make no promises.

Thank you for the food. I’ll be chewing on this for a while. I’ll get back to you once I rewatch season three.

#yugi moto #yugi mutou #jaden yuki #judai yuki #yugioh gx #seto kaiba #dad yugi #atem #yami yugi #pharaoh atem #tristan taylor #joey wheeler #tea gardner #rivalshipping

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melishade · 3 months ago

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Attack on Prime New Age Anthology: Return to that Sick Mind II

Main Story

Icebreakers

Strange Technology

Return to that Sick Mind I

"I told you the Autobots are still on Cybertron," Megatron stated as Optimus continued pace in the forest, his battle mask equipped. Meanwhile, the former warlord was leaning against a tree watching the Prime pace, "I don't know if anyone attacked."

"Yet you do not have evidence to prove you claim," Optimus retorted.

"I left the planet after you became one with Primus. How many time do I have to explain that to you?" Megatron demanded.

"They are my comrades, and what makes you so sure that I can believe what you're telling me?" Optimus demanded.

"It's not like either of us can return to Cybertron," Megatron said, "This planet could be billions of light years away and this world has less technology than Earth. It hasn't even invented electricity yet. Besides, I killed the one threat to Cybertron before I left. Airachnid was stranded on Luna-1. She would've planned an attack, knowing her, so I had to intervene before it was too late."

"So you did kill Airachnid," Bumblebee spoke, directing the current Megatron from the memory.

"Airachnid was the only threat that I had a confirmed location on," the current Megatron explained, "If she decided to attack Cybertron with her horde of Insections, you wouldn't have stood a chance, considering your numbers."

"...thanks for that, I suppose," Bumblebee said.

"Don't thank him!" Ratchet shouted through the comm. link.

"Bumblebee, you need to ask about these claims," Ultra Magnus reminded.

"Look, I know that you have a history with Optimus, and Optimus would probably advocate for you," Bumblebee began, "But these other humans...did..." Bumblebee was afraid to ask, but... "Did one of them blackmail you?"

Bumblebee froze in place when he saw Megatron's optic twitch in response before he let out a groan of frustration.

"The mad scientist told you!" Megatron pointed at Bumblebee, "I knew they would say something like that because they know they can get away with it! I bet they had a smug grin on their face when telling that fragging story!"

"What the frag?" Bulkhead questioned in confusion.

"That's exactly what Jack said in the text," Smokescreen added.

"So!...that happened?!" Bumblebee demanded.

Megatron rolled his optics as the memories shifted once more to that of a small room. Bumblebee saw the human in question, sitting at the other end of a table while Megatron was in his human form, standing up.

“Your threats, your murderous tendencies, nearly shooting Levi in the gut, threatening to destroy humanity unless Erwin resigned, almost killing Historia. Believe me, that list goes on for a while!” Hanji stood up and glared at him. “It becomes my business when my comrades get threatened. Your help isn’t worth it if my subordinates don’t feel safe.”

Megatron smiled wickedly. “Is that supposed to be threatening? How pathetic must you be?”

Hanji clicked their tongue in response. “If anything, you’re the pathetic one. How low do you have to go in order to make Optimus happy? Especially since he hasn’t forgiven you for all the shit you pulled during the war.”

Bumblebee saw the shift in Megatron’s eyes before it turned into anger, but the human continued. “You haven’t been one to deny it. I mean, you have no issue murdering anyone or anything that gets into the way of what you want, something you know Optimus doesn’t approve of.”

“I don’t care about what Optimus thinks of me,” Megatron proclaimed.

Hanji tilted their head in response, and Bumblebee saw their calculated expression turn into one of apathy as they shrugged.

“Fine,” Hanji walked past Megatron and to the door, “If you don’t care, as you like to put it, I’ll just go talk to Optimus right now. I’m sure Optimus would be happy to know that you blackmailed humanity’s strongest and the 13th Commander of the Survey Corps. Even better, Optimus would love to hear those words you said to Eren back in the coup, which started the domino effect of him wanting to put a bullet in skull.”

Bumblebee could see genuine panic in Megatron's eyes as Hanji reached for the door. He saw it crack open and he did see someone else on the other side of the door before Megatron rushed over and slammed it shut. Bumblebee couldn't help but fear for Hanji's life as they looked up at Megatron's murderous expression. But they didn't cower in fear.

They smirked in response to his action. “Did I touch a nerve?”

“Give me one good reason why I should not kill you where you stand,” Megatron ordered ominously.

Hanji sucked in a breath and thought it over. “That’s the thing: you can’t kill me.”

Bumblebee flinched in fear as Megatron wrapped his hand around Hanji's neck and slammed them into the door. Bumblebee also noticed the current Megatron actually flinching at the memory too.

“I’ve told you before that I could snap your neck before another word comes out of your mouth,” Megatron reminded them, “Do you really want your last words to be a bluff?”

Hanji chuckled before speaking in a strained voice. “You’ve always made these types of threats. Honestly, it’s kind of boring and redundant.”

Hanji winced as Megatron’s grip became tighter, but they still smiled wickedly in response. “So go on. Kill me so I don’t have to hear your horse shit.”

Megatron still had that murderous look in his eyes, but he made no move to end their life.

“Aw, what’s the matter?” Hanji goaded, “Killing a human suddenly too hard for you, or is the tactic too easy to be traced back to you?”

“You should be terrified,” Megatron told them.

“Believe me, I am,” Hanji admitted to the titan, “But I thought it over. You haven’t killed me because I’m an ally to Optimus Prime. You care for Optimus; you can’t deny that now. You care about him, and his interests. So…if a person is a sure threat to Optimus, you can make a move to eliminate them. But…if the person is an ally: You. Can’t. Touch. Them. Which is why you didn’t kill Levi when you had the chance, why you were hesitant to kill Historia, and why you won’t kill me right now. So unless you want Optimus to go batshit crazy on you, you might want to put me down.”

Bumblebee couldn't help but wait in anticipation. He waited for the other shoe to drop and for Megatron to kill them, but Megatron dropped them. Hanji gasped as they collapsed onto the ground, coughing while rubbing their neck from the pain.

“Looks like I was right,” Hanji spoke.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Megatron warned.

“Those threats are empty now,” Hanji retorted.

“Then let me make a real one,” Megatron began as he grabbed Hanji’s face, “The same one I gave to your predecessor: go against Optimus’ wishes, and I’ll destroy the island.”

“Hurt any of my subordinates and I’ll make sure Optimus never forgives you,” Hanji threatened.

“…It seems we are at an impasse,” Megatron commented as he let them go, “What I don’t understand is why bother to go through the effort?”

“You are a powerful titan from among the stars,” Hanji reminded, “I’d do anything to know what’s inside that head of yours.”

"All of that just to get a reaction?!" Bumblebee exclaimed.

"Looking back, I'm certain something else trigger Hanji's little hypothesis," Megatron explained, "Still, our relationship is...strange and chaotic. Part of the time, they asked for my assistance. Other times, they asked about my mission. And multiple times they have tested my patience as an experiment."

"...They threw a whiskey bottle at you!" Bumblebee exclaimed.

"That!...actually wasn't related to their demeanor," Megatron confessed.

"I'm confused, because it sounds like you're not blaming them for throwing a whiskey bottle at you," Bumblebee accused.

"...When I was infiltrating Marley, I had aligned myself with someone who proclaimed to want to help the island. However, we had learned that this ally was responsible for the death of their comrade that was marked off as missing in action. I got him to make a confession and it caused them to spiral. They demanded that I kill him out of revenge and spite, but the vitality of the mission was more important in that moment."

Bumblebee watched the scene shift into that of an office. The same person that displayed confidence moments before was now lying on the couch, drunk and tired, while Megatron's holoform was standing on the other side of the room, with a young teen right behind him.

"I told them no," Megatron declared.

As if Hanji heard the current Megatron's response, they shot up from the couch and lifted their head, and Bumblebee saw their gritted teeth and angry eyes, their cheeks dried from tears spent earlier. Hanji grunted as they threw the whiskey in their hand at the two. Megatron quickly got in front of the teen behind him and the bottle hit Megatron directly on the side of his head. The action stunned Bumblebee. Megatron protected a human with no incentive again.

“Are you,” Hanji grabbed the other empty whiskey bottle, “FUCKING SERIOUS?!”

Hanji chucked the bottle with better accuracy, but Megatron was able to catch the bottle in time before throwing it aside.

“I’m telling you to KILL ZEKE!” Hanji shouted as they stumbled towards him, “You hate Marley! You hate humanity! I’m telling you to go insane! Do what you’ve been doing for the past four million fucking years! AND YOU WON’T EVEN TAKE THAT CHANCE?!”

Hanji tried to throw a punch at Megatron, but the titan caught their wrist with ease. Hanji then shoved their other hand onto Megatron’s face, wanting to yank on something. Maybe his hair. “I BET YOU’D DO IT IN A HEARTBEAT IF IT WAS OPTIMUS ASKING YOU!”

Bumblebee watched Hanji continue to struggle and do damage to Megatron, but nothing seemed to be working. Bumblebee glanced over at the current Megatron and saw...pity in Megatron's optics.

“WHAT DID WE EVER DO TO YOU?!” Hanji screamed, earning Bumblebee's attention, “Humans didn’t hurt you, or torture you, or do god knows what! What did humanity ever do to make you hate us so much?! Do you just hate us because you can?! Are you just that spiteful?!”

Hanji grabbed the coat of the holoform as tears fell down their cheeks. “We didn’t do anything wrong! We didn’t hurt you! We didn’t hurt anyone out there! We just wanted humanity to be free! Maybe I tortured and killed people! So did Levi! But Mike didn’t! Mobilit didn’t! Petra, Oluo, Eld, Gunther, none of them did! They were good people! They died for a noble dream!”

Hanji hung their head as their tears hit the floor. “They died for a dream that never existed. For a lie. It was all a lie. God…god…I’m so tired…I just…want to die.”

Nothing was heard in the room besides Hanji's tears. Bumblebee grew fearful as Megatron moved his hand towards Hanji. He grabbed their chin and forced the Commander to look up at him with their teary and heartbroken face.

“Hanji, you know just as well as I do why the Beast Titan is still alive,” Megatron said to them, “He still has a use for the island. A resource like him cannot be so easily wasted. He also holds the power of the nine titans, and is of royal blood. I’m certain you don’t want to put the Queen in danger so soon. When the Beast Titan’s usefulness runs its course, which it will eventually, I will grant you your wish. I will make sure that human goes through unbearable and unspeakable torment to the point where he will be begging for death. Then I will force him to undergo something far worse than death itself. Until that day, you must wait and be patient. But I assure you that day will come sooner than later.”

Bumblebee could tell Hanji wasn't satisfied with Megatron’s response. They forced themselves out of Megatron’s hold before stumbling over to the table. They hunched over it before holding the mechanism that was there in their arms with the utmost care.

“Get the fuck out of my office,” Hanji ordered in a defeated voice.

"Pretty violent reassurance," Bumblebee remarked, trying to ease the tension.

"I'm not good at providing reassurance," Megatron reminded.

"I'm just surprised you'd provide it at all," Bumblebee confessed, "It's unlike you."

"Bumblebee, don't be deceived. This is Megatron we're talking about!" Ratchet warned.

"Wait, Knockout, did you get snacks?!" Smokescreen yelled.

"I've done many things that aren't like me ever since I've arrived on this planet," Megatron declared, "I've been working with humans, pretending to be a human, and-!"

"Created a cure for an energon virus for a human," Bumblebee interjected, causing Megatron to look at him in surprise. Bumblebee expected Megatron to lash out in anger. Deny the action and demand who would tell him such a ridiculous claim, but instead, Megatron opened his mouth and said-!

"Colt's alive?" Bumblebee looked flabbergasted at the concern and relief on Megatron's face. Bumblebee saw the memories change and he found himself in an infirmary. Megatron's holoform was holding a notebook while seated, talking with a rather sickly teen lying in bed, forcing himself to sit up.

“Did…did you find a cure for me?”

“I wouldn’t call it a cure,” Megatron admitted, this time in a different accent, “We still haven’t seen long term effects of the substance I’ve made. I have been working non-stop to come up with something however.”

Colt shook his head in disbelief. “I…I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Megatron began as he reopened his notebook.

“Why would you go through that much effort to find a cure for me?” Colt asked him, “Why are you going through that much effort to save my life? I’m an Eldian: a devil. I shouldn’t be worth your time. A-and it’s not even now. The first day we met, the treats, the acts of kindness. I don’t understand why you’re doing all of this.”

“Do I really need a reason?” Megatron asked him as he read his notes, “I’ve lived in an environment where Eldia and Marley don’t matter. While everyone around you see you as a devil, I just see a little kid. When you realize that Eldian and Marley don’t matter, the world is your oyster.”

Megatron looked up at Colt, and the ex-con could see the somewhat sad and tired expression on his face. Megatron shut the notebook and leaned forward.

“I…I also think that you’re a good kid,” Megatron confessed, “You don’t buy into the Marley propaganda, and you just want to keep your family and brother safe. It’d be disappointing to see someone like you die so early.”

"I know I crafted a persona that didn't care for Marley's glory or the Eldians," the current Megatron began, "But I did mean those words."

"...you grew attached to the enemy?" Bumblebee asked in surprise.

"More pity than attachment," Megatron clarified, but even Bumblebee could tell that was a weak lie, "Eldians were forced into internment zone because they had the ability to transform into cannibalistic titans. If the pure titan isn't able to find a titan shift, one who can freely transform from human to titan at will, they would be stuck like that for all eternity. No humanity, no intelligence, just the innate desire to consume humans in order to regain their humanity by the slimmest of chances. Because of this, Eldians like him have been treated as second class citizens. Less rights, less food, discrimination, these humans aren't even allowed burial rights. Their bodies are devoured by pure titans or carted off for experimentation."

Bumblebee saw a memory of Megatron's holoform reading a book while four children and that same teen were running laps. "They were brainwashed into believing their devils, and the only way to prove that they were 'good Eldians' were to become weapons of the state. A false glory that shortened their life by thirteen years if they were lucky."

Bumblebee looked towards the faces of those kids, running out of breath as they ran with large backpacks on them.

"You probably could have done more to help them," Bumblebee retorted.

"It wasn't that simple," Megatron declared, "Not when the entire world hates Eldians and wanted them dead. My moves had to be calculated or Paradis would have fallen."

Bumblebee watched as there was chaos and fire at the military base. The woman, Pieck, had transformed into a titan to attack her enemy, while Megatron's holoform was on foot, running towards those four children. Bumblebee saw one with glasses sitting up and exposing himself.

“Keep your head down!” Megatron shouted at them, but it was too late. The sniper fired, the bullet flew past Pieck’s rampaging titan form, and ran through Udo’s head. Gabi watched in horror as Udo’s glasses flew off and his lifeless body hit the ground.

“UDO!” Gabi screamed as Megatron reached the dune and grabbed her before forcing her head down. Megatron finally managed to get a good look at the scene before him. Zofia had some shrapnel from the explosion that flew and hit her in the leg, and Falco was initially trying desperately to remove it and patch it up with what little he had. But both were distracted, staring in disbelief as blood pulled from Udo’s head.

“Udo?” Zofia could only breathe.

“No! No!” Falco yelled.

“UDO! GET UP!” Gabi screamed from her pinned position as she tried to reach for her dead friend.

"...I suppose I could have done more." Bumblebee looked up at Megatron, but the ex-con was looking away from the memory and him.

"...Are the others alive?" Megatron asked.

"What?" Bumblebee was confused at the question.

"Optimus, the Survey Corps, even the Marleyans, are they still alive?" Megatron demanded, facing Bumblebee, "Because I know that Lara is dead. What about the others?"

Before Bumblebee could respond, the memories changed into that of his own just moments before, with Ultra Magnus going over the names and faces that Jack had given him.

"Scrap, Bumblebee!" Ratchet yelled at him.

"It wasn't me!" Bumblebee hissed in the comm. link as Megatron approached the screen. He scanned the names of all the people in Jack's text and sighed in defeat.

"So Connie is dead, and Levi and Jean are in surgery," Megatron read the list before turning to Bumblebee, "Do you have a status on the ones in surgery?"

"Recovering, from what I've heard," Bumblebee replied.

Megatron didn't seem satisfied with the answer, but let it go for right now.

"...who's Lara?" Bumblebee asked, "Ratchet and Knockout said she wanted to talk to you in her last moments."

Megatron sighed in response as the memories changed. Bumblebee saw Megatron's holoform fighting with another woman. The ex-con was attacking the woman with a sword, while the woman was swinging a rather large hammer.

"Lara Tybur was apart of the Tybur Family. Holder of the War Hammer Titan, and sister to the head of the family: Willy Tybur," Megatron explained, "I had come into contact with the family by sheer accident, saving one of the children from a hostage situation on a train. Willy wanted to express gratitude by offering me a favor. I was going to that favor to escape from Marley in the event my identity had been compromised. But since I had the connection to the only Eldians that the world ever respected, I figured I could learn some useful information from them."

Bumblebee saw a memory of Willy talking and laughing with Megatron, although Megatron didn't seem too amused. "He asked me to train Lara. I learned as much as I could. He considered me a friend because I didn't laud him like the others, but I was still using him for my own gain. And Lara...developed feelings for my human persona."

"What?" Bumblebee's mouth dropped.

"NO WAY!" Smokescreen yelled.

"Oh my Primus, this is the best day of my life!" Knockout cackled.

"I need some of those rust sticks!" Bulkhead demanded.

"Please don't tell me you-!"

"By the Allspark, no!" Megatron yelled as the memory changed, before pointing at it.

“Ignore her, and ignore what I said that week,” Lara insisted.

“I think it needs to be addressed because it sounded like a confession,” Megatron declared.

“…it was stupid,” Lara admitted, “Just a silly crush, especially for someone like me with a shortened lifespan.”

“…Lara, I have no idea what you could possibly see in me,” Megatron told her bluntly, “But even if the shortened lifespan and my unwillingness to actually be in a committed relationship didn’t matter, you’re not my type.”

Lara seemed a little hurt by the proclamation. “I never had a chance to begin with.”

“You’re nice, but you’re…obedient and reserved,” Megatron told her, “I’d like someone who would challenge me.”

Lara huffed at that. “So much for hoping.”

Bumblebee could hear Knockout dying of laughter while he could hear someone gagging in the background. Meanwhile, the Warrior felt his face heat up in embarrassment. "This feels weird to watch."

"Regardless." Megatron regained his composure, "...I ended up saving the Tybur's life one more time. Maybe because I...felt something for them. I don't know."

Bumblebee watched Megatron's human form shove Willy off the stage before he was crushed by a giant hand. "I guess it helped that you didn't actually die."

"...I'm sure it devastated him when he learned the truth," Megatron proclaimed, "And Lara as well. But...in her final moments she seemed content, and died a warrior's death, earning the honor that her family had lied about for years."

"...So you have respect for Lara, but do you consider Willy a friend?" Bumblebee asked.

"...no," Megatron decided.

"You hesitated there," Bumblebee commented.

"I don't want to talk about it," Megatron declared.

"Wait, did he do something to make you upset?" Bumblebee asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Megatron repeated, but the memory was already changing...to that of a human party...and Megatron in a suit...dancing with a middle aged woman.

"WHAT IS THAT?!" Bumblebee and all the other Autobots screamed.

"No." Megatron ducked his helm in embarrassment.

"Why are you dancing?!" Bumblebee demanded, and he could've sworn he heard someone collapse on the other end of the call.

"It was for the mission!" Megatron declared.

"You're wooing a crowd!" Bumblebee gestured to another memory.

"Shut up!" Megatron yelled at him.

Meanwhile, outside of the Patch, Knockout was dying of laughter on the floor while Ratchet had passed out altogether. Smokescreen and Bulkhead were trying to wake him up, while Ultra Magnus looked like his processors had short circuited.

(So this might actually be multiple parts. There are quite a few memories to sort through anyway. So maybe there will be 2 more parts to this section of the New Age Anthology. We'll see.)

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alostlovergirl · 5 months ago

Text

The Marriage

(Not my gif)

Summary: Feelings are developing rather quickly

Tags: Loki being a cutie, wedding, probably inaccurate descriptions, fluff, and some slight tension.

Notes: This goes by pretty fast, but I hope you guys enjoy it.

Part two to Marriage of Convenience. Pt 3: The Sex

In an instance, her life was completely uprooted and her little home in the middle of the city was sold to another family. It was a lot for her, and Loki made sure to make it worth her while. The two of them spent every night in his room, doing various things that they used to do as children all the time. She didn’t sleep in his room, but being able to hang out or pop up on her best friend when he is doing his duties is fun. Like now, she is currently watching him fill out an order for their wedding. Traditional decorations and colors consume his mind, not noticing his ‘fiancé’ coming up to his desk. To her, he seemed stressed and less like himself throughout this whole thing. She smiles, walking behind the God, her footsteps silenced by her lack of shoes. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, pressing against him and feeling his back muscles tense slightly before he leans into her touch. The two of them were getting closer, planning the wedding together, but they remain adamant to themselves that they weren’t getting closer than being friends in a weird situation.

They were lying hard to themselves, especially Loki, who was starting to think about things he never thought about. He thought about their life together... and couldn’t exactly remember if she looked that good in a night gown before this. He caught himself multiple times looking over every inch of her eyes watching her curves move as she walked down the hall with him, acting as if she was Queen. Even now he finds himself hard to focus on his work with her soft hands on his chest. “You are stressed, buddy…” She coos, patting his chest and pulling back a bit. Her concern fills him with a sense of warmth, looking back at her and seeing her still walking around the castle in her nightie. A nightie that curved around her hips so flawlessly, showing every dip and dive. She had a little pouch of fat and her breast hung perfectly considering that she was wearing no bra. She looked like a goddess to him, and the public loved her. “Prince Loki’s perfect wife.” They would say, saying how she matched him so well.

“You are already acting like a wife, you know?” He smiles, pushes back his chair and stands up with a tired grunt. She looked up at him, standing on her tippy toes unconsciously.

“I am not allowed to worry about the friend I have to marry in a month?” she was teasing him, that sweet smile on her face. He cups her face in his cold palms and kisses her forehead in a friendly gesture... but that’s not what it felt like to her. She felt a certain tension set into the room when he did that. Her hands rested on his broad chest, keeping eye contact with him, really letting the tension set in more in the room. “You are...” He says, breaking the quietness in the room, hands still holding her face. “It’s just cute that you are already acting like this… you are really committed to this act.”

The way he spoke… it felt like he was causing this tension on purpose. When he started smiling, eyebrows dropping a bit and looking at her with half lidded eyes… yeah, he was doing this shit on purpose. She couldn’t pull away from him though. She was feeling something... more or so her panties becoming more soaking wet for her best friend. His icy eyes were piercing through her soul, watching every reaction she let come through. Her breath quickened a bit before he broke the air in the room by picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder, making her laugh. “Then we can go play a board game. I need a break anyways...”

“As long as you don’t cheat this time!”

“Oh, I’m going to cheat.”

Those nights were always so fun. Loki would spend the day planning the wedding and she would act as his fiancé in public, but in private, she would pull him away from the most important works, wanting to play and run around the castle like they were still children, not realizing the change their friendship was about to encounter.

As the wedding planning continued, she could feel the connection as friends dissolving, but she insisted in her mind that nothing is changing. They were still the best of friends, and her mind couldn’t convince her otherwise. Loki on the other hand, was letting his mind come with different things. His mind was swirling with thoughts about his supposed friend. He had always thought she was attractive before this, but spending so much time with her, was really making him appreciate her. She was a godsend. She cares so much about him, forcing him to go to bed or not allowing himself to overwork himself with minimal breaks. The kisses in public, when they know they are being watched by the people, he wishes they last longer. He must look like a man starved as they shop for her wedding silks to make her dress with. Feeling all of this, he couldn’t pinpoint what was making his feelings change for her. He was just appreciative of her and the way she is. He couldn’t possibly be breaking the promise he made to her. He wouldn’t.

The day finally came along. After months of planning, she was getting dressed for her wedding. She and Loki had been separated a few days before, apparently a tradition for the bride and groom in Asgard. She was missing him more than she should, considering that he was still in the castle, just locked away somewhere putting the final touches to their wedding with his advisors. The wedding was opened to the public, so many civilians walked around the castle, peering into rooms they weren’t supposed to be in. She felt incredibly nervous, wanting nothing more than to feel the comfort of her friend as a servant tightened her corset. The dress was gorgeous, lace and silk all picked out by Loki, him knowing exactly what his friend would feel comfortable in. This marriage was a fake thing. A simple stunt to get out of an arranged wedding by Loki, but she felt some emotions swirling throughout her body, mostly the question of how would their life go? She wanted kids and Loki might never give it to her because of the promise he made to her.

She hates to say it, but she was giving up the rest of her life to find a husband to love her and marrying a man that she wasn’t even supposed to love. She wasn’t even sure if he would ever love her. Why was she thinking about this? Did she love her best friend and wasn’t admitting it to herself? Why was she so worried? Anybody would love to spend their life with their best friend… but maybe now, she isn’t thinking about Loki as a best friend; she was thinking about him as a husband... a man that she was about to marry and be with for the rest of her life.

“We are done, my Queen.” The servants have resorted to calling her Queen now, no longer her name, but their Queen. Her life has changed so much as she takes the servant’s hand, stepping down from the platform. She held a bouquet of colorful flowers, something that Loki put so much thought into. It was a bunch of pretty flowers that his mother grew for her, since she used to pick them when they were kids. The heels were comfortable, a softer sole sewn into them, and her hair was left down with braids that were decorated with the same flowers. Loki always knew how to make her feel pretty, in raggedy clothes or clothes he picked out for her to wear.

She is led down the hall, to the doors that open the garden. Loki insisted on an outside wedding, at night. He didn’t like the sun on his cold skin and nights in Asgard are just so pretty. ‘He put way too much thought into this…’ she couldn’t help to think as she waited for the music to start playing. A few too many flower girls and Loki’s walk down, it was time for her. She wished that her dad could walk you down, but he was too sick, so she settled for a servant to walk her. The heavy doors are opened, feeling the nerves burst in her stomach as she was met with gleaming eyes. The music played and holding her dress up slightly, she made her way down the aisle, unable to look into anyone’s eyes or lift her head. She could feel everyone’s stare on her as it was quiet, other than the occasional kid squealing. She lifts her head, needing to focus on something before she became overwhelmed with tears, of what emotion? She wasn’t sure. She was feeling way too many things at once. She was scared, happy, unsure, mostly scared for her future... but all of that disappeared when she made eye contact with her ‘friend.’ He had this big smile on his face, seeming like he was trying to hold it back. When she was passed onto him, she entrapped her in his blue eyes, holding her hands. There was something unreadable in his eyes, like that time in his office. She could barely hear the officiant, as she could feel herself relaxed in his presence. Of course, she has felt this way before, but never like this. Never so intense.

The wedding moves by fast, vows spoken in soft voices. Even the ‘I do’s’ went by fast. As the words, “You may kiss your bride.”, came out the officiant’s mouth, he kissed her. This kiss felt different from the proposal, deeper and something more laced into it. His brother and your older sister, who was your bridesmaid, pushed you into each other, bodies touching each other as the garden erupted into claps and loud cheers for the new rulers of Asgard. His horned crown touched her forehead slightly as he deepened the kiss before finally pulling away with heavy breaths. A crown has been placed upon her head, one made of gold and flowers. She licked her lips, tasting the snack that Loki must have had before the ceremony. Before she could react to anything else, he hoisted her up into his arms, carrying her down the aisle. She yelps, holding onto his broad shoulders, laughing a bit, confused on why he was acting more loving than usual. Maybe it was the relief of having the burden of finding a wife lifted off his chest.

It wasn’t that. Loki wasn’t sure himself why he was acting like this, but he just felt happy. He couldn’t pinpoint a reason… or maybe his mind wasn’t accepting a reasoning for why he was so happy, but at last… it was time to eat and celebrate. Especially before his stomach started to eat itself.

The reception hall was decorated beautifully, music being played rather loudly, but Loki and his new ‘wife’ had snuck away from the party. They sat on a bench, watching the moon decorate the sky. “So… we are married.” Loki starts, stating the obvious with a smile on his face. She nods, looking at him and perfect smile, feeling a warm feeling gathered at the pit of her stomach.

“I’ve done you a great service.” She jokes, slipping her hand into his for some friendly hand holding. “You look incredibly handsome, friend.”

She saw his shoulders deflate a bit, smile faltering before fixing itself back. “You looked beautiful… as always.” he says, pushing her hair back. She leans into his touch, feeling closer to the God, more than ever. She reaches up to his crown, taking off the heavy crown and putting it on the ground. He watched her intently, watching her every movement, wondering where this would go. He felt her fingers run through his hair, fluffing it out and hummed with pleasure, eyes closed.

“What has been going on between us?” She questioned, hands resting at the back of his neck. “I am feeling things... that I shouldn’t feel for you, Loki. We married as friends… not lovers…”

He didn’t respond. He opened his eyes, that same unreadable look. He leaned forward, kissing her again, but this time, he was pulling her in closer, desperate to suck the air out of her lungs. His cold hands grasped at her face, needing her to feel what he feels right now. He was in love. He was lovesick. He loved his best friend and might have always did, considering how fast his feelings were growing for her over the months. As soon as he was proposed with an arranged marriage, his mind and body led him to hear, still not accepting the condition of his feeling for her. He realized why he was so happy during the wedding. He felt free to express himself and not hold back any longer.

She was surprised by the kiss but, wasted no time in kissing him back with the same amount of fervor. He laid her back on the bench, hands on her sides. He pulled back, breathing heavily. “No more friend… I don’t want to be your friend no more. I want to be your husband… your love… your everything…” He admitted, head pressed against hers. His confession made her feel a range of emotions, but a lot of relief. She hadn’t given up her life to man that would never love her… never hold her… she had a man who wanted her, and it was someone who knew her inside and out. She kissed him again, wrapping her arms around him. These feelings had progressed so quickly that she hoped her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her.

Loki’s cold hands traveled up her dress, holding onto her bare thighs. He moved his kisses to her neck and collarbone, leaving marks all over her untouched skin. She was breathless, watching him admire and appreciate every part of her body. “Loki… I don’t think the garden is the best idea…” She pants, watching him look at her with wide eyes. She sees him think about it before he gets up, pulling her to her feet.

His little mischievous smile appears on his face before he leads her into the castle for some more fun.

#marvel #new post #new writer #x reader #loki x reader #loki god of mischief #loki of asgard #marriage #friends to lovers #fluff #marvel smut

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twistedminutia · 7 months ago

Text

A Million and One Minutia: Nuclear Weaponry

Read the previous chapters here: Ch. 1

Gray teaches the Heartslabyul upperclassmen about nuclear power and weaponry.

The school library is where I spend a majority of my time, much to Grim’s protests. I’m not exactly sure what irritates him so much about it- maybe it’s just the principle of the thing, because he naps most of the time anyway, and it’s more comfortable than Ramshackle. Fall has set in pretty firmly, and the dorm’s walls do not keep out the chill. The library is warm, comfy, and I don’t have to worry about a leaking ceiling if it rains.

It’s also the only place on campus I can get internet access from. I don’t have money for a phone, and even if I got one for free, I can’t pay for an internet plan. Crowley hems and haws whenever the subject comes up, so I’m not holding out hope. So. Library computers it is.

Naturally, the internet itself is recognizable, but weird. Like most things here. The search engines are different, but have a similar format to what I’m used to. The websites are different, but they’re clear analogues of websites back home. It’s at least intuitive to navigate, if a little strange.

Research provides me with some details, but the more I look at, the more incomplete it feels. I can’t explain it quite right, but it feels a little like trying to read a detailed fanfic for a series of movies you haven’t seen. I can intuit a lot of it, but then a website will casually mention something I don’t know about at all and I’m completely lost again.

I’m in the middle of trying to figure out if hippogriffs are real actual animals here or just some sort of cryptid when I hear footsteps nearby. I glance up at the right moment to make eye contact with Cater, who waves enthusiastically. Trey follows his gaze and gives me a wave of his own. They pause near me, and I nod at Riddle, who’s the last member in their little group. He nods back.

“How’s it going?” Trey asks. “Ramshackle’s all right? You’re getting enough to eat and sleep?”

Ever since Trey learned that I am not of this world, he’s been subtly momming me. It’s nothing too bothersome- just frequent questions about how I’m doing, if I need anything, if I’m taking care of myself all right. Usually it’s no big deal, though I did get an impressive lecture once when I’d been in such a hurry that I hadn’t brushed my teeth when leaving Ramshackle in the morning. Apparently, anyone in a leadership position at Heartslabyul has formidable scolding abilities.

Still, it’s not like I don’t appreciate the gesture. Not least of all because Trey has been slipping me baked goods. Keeping them away from Grim so that I can get even one bite has become a full-time job.

“Everything’s fine,” I say. “Are you here to get some studying done?”

“More or less,” Trey says. “Riddle and I are trying to get a study guide set up for the exams coming up, so the freshmen will have something to follow during the study groups.”

“I’m just here to snap some Magicam pics,” Cater says, holding his phone up to get a shot of himself against one of the bookshelves. “Dark academia is super trendy right now.”

“You’re going to study for exams and set up a guide to help other people study?” I ask, ignoring Cater to level a skeptical look at Riddle and Trey. “Don’t you ever give yourselves time to rest?”

“Of course. A certain amount of rest ensures that the brain is functioning at peak level,” Riddle huffs. “I have a half an hour of leisure before bed every night. And helping other people study is shown to be one of the most effective forms of learning and retaining information.” He draws himself up, heels clicking together. “I’m going to get the class textbooks for the basic freshmen courses.”

He heads off down the rows of bookshelves, heels clacking against the ground. I share a look with Trey. “He is actually doing okay, right?” I ask.

“I’ve been making sure he doesn’t push himself too hard,” Trey says. “Cater’s been helping keep things in order too.” “Gotta keep the housewarden happy,” Cater agrees, thumbing through the photos he’s taken. I take the opportunity to sneak a glance at Trey’s bag. It’s gotten to the point where my mouth starts watering when Trey shows up. He’s completely Pavloved me. Assuming that Pavlov is still a thing in this universe. Probably not. I wonder what classical conditioning is called here. Probably just ‘classical conditioning.’

Trey catches me staring and shakes his head. “I gave you a dozen cookies three days ago.”

“Yeah, and I live with a furry black hole,” I say, jerking a thumb toward Grim. He rolls onto his belly, mumbling something indistinct.

Trey laughs. “Well, I don’t have any food on me.”

“Even if you did, you probably shouldn’t have it out here,” Cater says, glancing deeper into the library. “Riddle’s going to be back at any moment.”

Good point. Biggest, most well-known rule ever: don’t bring food into a library. “Oh, right,” I say. “I guess Riddle would go nuclear if he saw someone eating in here.”

I thought it was a fairly reasonable thing to say, but apparently not, because both Cater and Trey swivel toward me with identical looks of bewilderment. “What?” Cater says.

Oops. Maybe making fun of the housewarden is only for the people actually under his rule. Deuce and Ace never had a problem with it- though their relationship with Riddle is often contentious and they’re perhaps not the best examples to look toward for the appropriate treatment of housewardens. I shrink down in my seat. “Uh- Y’know, was just saying that he’d be pissed if we broke a rule- I didn’t mean anything by it, really- I guess I’ve just been around Ace and Deuce and they complain about him all the time so I thought-” You’re throwing your friends under the bus, stop talking! “It wasn’t an insult toward him or anything-”

Cater waves a hand. “No, I mean, what does ‘going nuclear’ mean?”

I pause, giving time for my scrambled brain to slip back on the tracks. “Wh- going nuclear?” I glance at Trey, but he’s clearly just as mystified as Cater. “You know. Blowing your top. Going ballistic. Freaking out. He would have gotten really mad.”

“Huh,” Trey says. “I’ve never heard that one before.” “I guess it’s not a terribly common phrase,” I say.

“Nu-cle-ar,” Cater says, rolling the word around in his mouth. “Huh. Is that another word for angry in your world?”

“No,” I say, a little caught off guard. “You don’t know what nuclear means?”

Trey shakes his head. “I just said I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Yeah, but I thought you just meant in that context, not that you didn’t know what nuclear was.” I look at Cater, but he just shakes his head at me.

“What is it?” Trey asks, settling into a computer seat next to me. Cater perks up and leans in.

“W-well, it’s-” Uh. Crap. I know what nuclear means in a very general sense, but not enough to describe it with any sort of accuracy. My first instinct would be to look it up, but I’m not sure how useful that’s going to be- if Trey and Cater haven’t even heard of it, is it something they’ve even discovered here? “Um. So. I only learned about this briefly once, so this maybe isn’t all that accurate. But I think it’s… some kind of atomic thing? Like, if something happens on an atomic level, then you get a substance that produces radioactivity, which can be really dangerous, and people use it for power and bombs and things…” I pause. Cater and Trey are just staring. “Okay, uh. Do you know what atoms are?”

Trey nods, but Cater just shrugs. “I never paid attention in science class. They’re really small, right?”

“Yeah, they’re the smallest substance. I think, if something happens to the nucleus, then you get radioactivity, which is a kind of dangerous energy that you can use for… some things, I think. X-rays are radioactive, and that’s why you have to use a lead blanket when you have them…” Cater and Trey are still staring at me like I’m speaking gibberish. In fairness, I barely understand what I’m saying. “I didn’t really pay attention in science class either, okay? I’m not very good at explaining this stuff.” There’s the ‘click click’ of approaching heeled footsteps and Trey looks around me. “Hey, Riddle, do you know what nuclear means?”

I spin around in time to see Riddle placing a stack of books on the table next to him. He’s using magic to carry it, presumably because the stack is almost as tall as he is. It makes quite an impressive thump. “Yes. I’ve done some reading on nuclear physics, so I’m familiar with it, though I’ll admit it’s not a subject I’m all that interested in. Why?”

It figures that Riddle would casually bring up reading about nuclear physics. I bet he was reading science textbooks for fun at age six. “We were just talking about it,” I say. “I mentioned it and Cater and Trey didn’t know what it meant.”

“I’m not surprised,” Riddle says. He goes up on his tiptoes to reach some of the books at the top of the stack. His fingertips don’t quite touch the cover of the topmost book. “It’s- ugh- not a subject most people bother with.” He makes one final grab at the book, then gives up in the most dignified, I-meant-to-do-that way, and just magics it down. “I’m surprised you know about it, considering…” Riddle trails off, apparently realizing there’s no way out of that sentence that isn’t an insult. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Just. Considering.”

“Everyone knows about nuclear power where I come from. I mean, not everyone. But most people. There’s a big debate over whether or not we should use it for power right now, which freaks some people out, but-” I stop. Riddle is giving me the sort of horrified look usually reserved for when a person has a cockroach the size of a hot dog crawling up their back. “What?”

“You’re trying to use it for power generation?” he says, aghast. “Why? Nuclear materials are highly unstable and dangerous! It’s a fascinating hypothetical subject, but no one’s willing to put money into such a volatile substance, and certainly no one would agree to use it over magic-generated power.”

“Well, my world didn’t have magic,” I say a little sulkily. “We kind of had to make do.” Riddle frowns, looking vaguely disturbed. “It being dangerous is why there’s such a big debate over using it- no one wants to use a substance that could poison you near their homes, but it produces a lot of energy and it’s less harmful in the long term than things like oil. And people are careful with it. It’s not the same as getting power from a nuclear bomb or something.” Riddle’s expression sours further. “A nuclear… bomb?”

“A bomb that utilizes the energy of a split atom or something. It’s supposed to be insanely powerful, and even if you don’t get blown up by it, it irradiates the surrounding area, and then that radiation makes people sick, so it’s a pretty effective weapon.” I grope for an appropriate metaphor. “It’s… um, it’s powerful enough that if you dropped one on NRC, the RSA would get hit by the shockwave. And it would probably give any survivors radiation sickness.”

“Woah,” Cater says. “Why would you make something like that?”

I shrug. “There wasn’t that good of a reason- it was made in a war that a lot of people were trying to win and it sort of… happened because people wanted a weapon that would end the war. But then people started making more of them, because everyone was scared of having it used on them, so they needed one of their own to protect themselves, and then everyone ended up with so many of them that they were an apocalyptic threat so no one could fire them. It all just sort of snowballed.”

“Huh,” Trey says. “That actually reminds me of the end of the war between the faeries and the humans.”

“Really?” Cater says. Trey swats him gently with a scrap piece of paper.

“Trein was just talking about it in class last week. Toward the end of the war, humans and faeries were using such destructive magic against each other that battlefields were tainted with blot and destroyed. The battles were almost always stalemates, and no one was winning anything. It’s one of the main reasons the peace negotiations started to gain some traction.”

Riddle nods. “There were other political reasons, of course, but that was where the biggest push for peace started. The first major act of human and faerie cooperation was restoring areas of land that were damaged by blot and magic.”

“Did it work?” I ask.

“For the most part- I think the Jupiter Corporation assisted heavily with the cleanup, and there are still a few areas that need restoration. But it’s largely healed now,” Riddle says.

“Then you’re doing better than we are,” I say ruefully. “You can’t really clean up radiation that way. Once it’s there, it’s there. The only thing you can do is wait until it fades naturally.”

“What does radiation do?” Cater asks. “Is it like blot?”

“It makes you sick, I think. There’s radiation in a lot of things, like sunlight- I think that’s why it can give you sunburns. But the kind of radiation the bombs used would make you sick. Deadly sick. That was one of the big concerns with them- even if people don’t die in the initial blast, the radiation would kill them off.” That and the nuclear winter, but I don’t mention that bit. All three of them look vaguely unsettled anyway.

“But that never happened,” Trey says, a little like he’s trying to reassure himself as well.

“No. And they decommissioned enough bombs that even if we had a war now, it probably wouldn’t kill everyone.” I consider. “Maybe. There’d probably be pockets of people who would survive. Civilization would definitely collapse, though. And radiation takes thousands of years to go away, so there’d be big parts of the world that would just be uninhabitable.” The three Heartslabyul boys exchange uncomfortable looks. “But it’s fine now. Mostly.”

“It’s impressive,” Riddle says after a moment, “what your world has managed to achieve without magic. I never would have thought that a place like that could become just as advanced as our world.”

“Thanks,” I say, uncertain what else to respond with. It’s not like I personally did any of the advancement he’s talking about. “Just being in a world where magic exists is pretty incredible to me. Thought it’s a lot to learn, since I’m not familiar with the history or how magic works or any of that…”

Something in Riddle’s eyes sparks and I trail off, trying to figure out exactly what I said. “Then you will join us for our study session. With midterms coming up, there isn’t a moment to waste, and having a remedial student will help Trey and I practice teaching the rest of the fist years.”

“Remedial student?” I sputter, indignant. I’m doing pretty well, considering I’m having to relearn everything from scratch in a high school setting. Then I realize that Riddle has just sentenced me to a study session from hell. “Uh, actually, I need to-” My gaze falls on the snoozing cat-beast next to me. “Grim and I should be getting back to Ramshackle before it’s too late, you know, we have to make dinner and there’s cleaning to do and-”

“Nonsense,” Riddle says, waving me off. “Trey has already made a nutritious meal back at the dorm, and I’m certain there’s enough for you to take part.”

I shoot Trey a pleading look, but he just nods. “There’s enough.” I glare at him. He shrugs back.

“And the cleaning can wait until midterms are over. There’s nothing more pressing than your studies.” Riddle waves his pen and the pile of books next to him starts hovering again. “We’ll head to the dorm once I check these out.” He pauses, then hands me a book on the top of the pile. “You can start with this basic overview of magical energy and its formation in nature.” He heads off to the front desk without waiting for my agreement, the book tower floating along next to him.

“Thanks for the help,” I mutter to Trey and Cater.

“It’s not that bad,” Trey says. “Riddle’s a good teacher. And even if you don’t need the help, it’ll be good for Grim. He could use the review- Ace says he barely stays awake during Trein’s lectures.”

True enough. Though it’s irritating that I have to be roped into it as well. “Fine, fine. C’mon, Grim.” I poke him. “We’re studying.”

“Myahhh,” he mumbles, shoving his face into his paws. “Five more minutes.”

I roll my eyes. “We’re going to Heartslabyul for dinner. Trey made it.”

He shoots to his paws. “Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go!” He hops down from the desk and starts booking it toward the entrance of the library. I pick up the book Riddle gave me and join Trey and Cater in heading toward Riddle. Hopefully by the time Grim realizes we’re actually attending a study session, he’ll be too full and scared of getting collared again that he won’t make a fuss. Maybe. It’s a bit of a long shot. Whatever. Trey will probably give us dessert, and that’s enough of a win to make the whole evening worth it.

Read the next chapter here: Ch. 3

#twisted wonderland #twst #a million and one minutia #yuusona #twisted wonderland headcanons #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #cater diamond #twisted wonderland fic #twisted wonderland fanfic

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watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees · 7 months ago

Text

Keeping up the image

Im slowly becoming addicted to leaving random comments on the beginning of each chapter

Yesterday i read some atrociously bad sold to 1d fanfiction for research purposes, so i’m trying to erase that memory and redeem the trope by writing this (guys, it was so bad, i tried to actually read some of it, because this particular fic used to be my favourite when i was like 13, and it’s unreadable, like it’s deplorable, it’s an abomination, and it’s really concerning that for 1 I enjoyed it to the moon and back and have read it multiple times and 2 had access to shit like that at a preteen age) anyway,

as always im dedicating this to @ziptiesnfries i hope you enjoy (btw if anyone else wants to be tagged lmk)

previous masterlist next

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, a little bit of manhandling

Oliver learned rather quickly that the boys did more for their images than for their music, and it was far from a fault of their own. The four bedroom house they occupied, seemed lavish on the outside, with a gated fence around the property, perfectly maintained garden with seasonally blooming flowers wherever you looked.

The other boys had already disappeared by the time James closed the door behind themselves. And Oliver looked around the empty open plan kitchen, living and dining room. The inside compared to the outside was modest, with white walls and grey furniture, it looked like whoever furnished it gave no thought to style or taste. Just another piece of bitter disappointment for Oli, whose previous home was swimming in decorations and tasteful furniture, the walls were brightly coloured with warm yellows, oranges and browns, he couldn’t help but mourn the loss of that, looking over the bare tabletops and kitchen island. The only redeeming quality of the room was a bunch of cords and mic stands hastily pushed in a corner, breaking up the sterile and monotonous look.

James never let go of his leash, leading him around by it, showing him around. The boys’ rooms were slightly less of an eyesore, each of their individual touches reflected off the posters hung up around the walls, but none of them seemed to have touched the uniform furniture. He started to wonder if it really was their stylistic choice or they simply did not care.

The last place they entered was the drummer’s room, which was exactly the same as the others’ much to Oliver’s disappointment. He had a feeling this was going to be the room he’d spend most of his time in.

“I took the liberty of ordering a few things for you yesterday” was the first sentence he actually said to Oli, instead of chattering in his general direction, not really caring whether he actually listened or not.

“Really?”

“I got a bed, and a few clothes, a couple of collars, just essentials really” he smiled endearingly and run his hand through the pets hair, which he happily nuzzled into “I made a few calls, they should be here soon” Oliver had a feeling that if he only needed to make a few calls to order things overnight, the guys must have had enough influence to fix the place up with little to no effort, they just didn’t. Truly disheartening.

“Let’s go get some breakfast”

The fridge was fully stocked with everything they could possibly need, much to his relief. At least he’d be able to cook. He sat in silence at the kitchen counter and watched as the drummer made a large batch of scrambled eggs for the two of them. His movements were sloppy, and he made a huge mess on the counter as he cracked the shells open. Oliver grimaced at the sight, while the boy’s back was turnt. He swore he’d take over the kitchen if they let him, and if they didn't he’d sneak out in the night to clean up.

“Here you go” James put a plate in front of him with a slice of bread and a large heap of steaming eggs, before sitting down right next to him.

“We’re eating like this?” he asked with sincere confusion and a hint of condescension.

“What do you mean?” James asked, his mouth already full. Oliver shook his head. Pets don’t eat at the same table as their owners, he felt this was common knowledge.

“Together” he felt awkward just saying it, and got ready to get down on the floor if he had to.

“Yeah, why not?” Yeah, sure, why not? He got to eating, cautiously, as it was a new and uncomfortable way of it, occasionally shooting a glance at the boy next to him, because he was still expecting him to change his mind. He realised just how hungry he had been halfway through the meal. He didn’t have anything since the morning before, back at the shelter.

He offered to wash up after themselves, but James dismissed it with a wave of his hand, and he sat through another painful round of having to watch him stumble about in the kitchen. The relief came, when the doorbell rang. And the drummer ran past him excitedly, grabbed his leash and pulled him to the entryway.

There were two cardboard boxes, one big and one smaller accompanied by a tired looking postal employee, who asked for a signature and immediately left. James grabbed the larger box and instructed Oli to bring the smaller one and led them back to his room.

The bed resembled a bean bag more than anything on the picture that was printed on the side, “Pet Accessories - from pocket to human sizes we cater to all pets” the label read, which made James laugh, for some reason incomprehensible to Oliver. They read through the instructions together, and got to setting up. There wasn’t much to do, after opening the plastic cover and letting the compressed foam on the inside take shape. They left it in the left corner of the room under the window between the wall and the wardrobe, the only place suitable to fit anything this size.

“Oh, goodie” James opened the other box, and Oliver couldn’t help but join him in the excitement. The collars were the first thing to come out of the box, three of them in the band’s signature colours, orange and red and the last one was black and white chequered.

“They look so much cheaper in real life” James complained as he pulled the orange one out of the plastic packaging.

“I like them” he tried to help out, but the truth was they really did look cheap.

“I do too, but the plastic will flake off after a few wears, look” he scratched the surface with a fingernail, and it really did start to peel “We’ll make it work,” he sighed thinking hard “we can put it on as an accessory when we go out and switch them to your normal one at home”

“That should work” Oliver agreed. At least he could keep the old one.

“Okay, now the clothes” James shook his head, and got back to his cheery self “I guessed your size, go to the bathroom and try them on” he clapped and ushered the boy to the en-suite bathroom, which was covered in white tiles and grey grout; unsurprising.

Before starting to dress up, he looked through the items in the box. It was mostly T-shirts covered in symbols and pictures of music groups Oliver didn’t recognise, not one of them was the boys’ own, there also were a couple pairs of jeans and tracksuit bottoms, all black, and some underwear and socks. The t-shirts fit right, if not a little big, but they were comfortable. He wasn’t sure if the jeans were supposed to be as tight as they were, so he placed them back in the box before emerging from the bathroom wearing a new outfit.

James looked him over with an approving grin.

“The Muse? Great choice” Oliver just nodded and noted that he would have to learn more about music, but appreciated the compliment.

“Thank you for these. The jeans might be a little too tight, though” he put the box on the floor anxiously.

“Are they? We can get new one’s tomorrow” he clicked his tongue in disappointment “You can put the rest of your things in the wardrobe, I cleared a shelf for you”

Much to his surprise, Oliver was happy to note that the wardrobe was clean and all the clothes inside were neatly folded and stacked on top of each other.

“Thank you” he repeated after he finished organising his things.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, awkwardly. Oliver shook his head. He was living on what he was given, and he felt provided for.

“I can get you anything” James nudged.

“Can I maybe have some books? I like to read” he asked sheepishly. He really did love reading.

“Of course!” the drummer’s face lit up “I was heading out anyway, I’ll stop by a bookstore. Do you have anything special in mind?” He didn’t. James left him ‘to do whatever until he’s back.’ So for a while Oliver lounged on his bed, that decompressed fully while he was trying the clothes on and turned out to be surprisingly comfortable. It looked more like a real dog bed than on the picture, it was dark blue, a welcome refreshment in the colourless house.

He looked out the window and noticed the garden again. So full of flowers and life. If only he could bring some of that inside. An idea sparked in his mind, and he got up with a wave of determination. He opened the door and peeked outside James’ room, the other three doors stayed closed. He tiptoed to the entrance and tried the door. It was open. He walked outside and stopped for a second to breathe the fresh air and bathe in the sunlight, then got to work and started gathering flowers in a bouquet. When he felt it was enough he headed back inside, softly closing the door behind himself.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eddie caught Oliver by the arm, grabbing him with bruising force turning him around and pushing him against the wall. A few flowers fell on the ground with the momentum. The pet couldn’t help but whimper softly as he tried to free himself, before he could actually answer. He didn’t mean to be bad. He wasn’t even sure what he did was wrong, and he wasn’t sure how bringing flowers inside could be anything short of wonderful in this suffocatingly grey house.

“I- I- just-” he stuttered. He felt like Eddie’s bright green gaze burnt his soul directly with the intensity he was looking at him “I was just trying to- to get some flowers, to- to put on the- for the table” he squirmed in the singer’s hold, who finally looked down and let him go after a moment of consideration.

“Anyone seen you?” he asked, with a frustration laced tone.

“No? I- I don’t think so, what- why?” Oliver asked. He was scared and confused by the sudden attack.

“There’s paparazzi everywhere, they could’ve seen you” That didn’t explain much. They were on live television just a day before. Eddie sighed, when he saw the pet’s confused expression he wasn’t quick enough to hide.

“We don’t want them to take just any pictures. They can twist and turn news around, and once that happens noone can really know what happens with our career” he explained, much calmer. Oliver let out a soft ‘oh’ in acknowledgement. He understood now.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know”

“It’s fine, just- Just don’t do it again… Let’s go put those flowers out” his expression softened and they set out to the kitchen to find a vase.

#pet whump #dehumanisation tw #whump writing #oc whump #whump #whump community

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swordfright · 1 year ago

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I want to know about the ouroboros AUs very badly

The amount of words I'm about to type is gonna make me look INSANE but in my defense I had to think about this every day for like a YEAR OKAY.

Island AU Spiderette AU: This AU operates on the premise that the Vault considers any structure c!Sam builds with the intent to imprison someone as an extension of Pandora — an extra limb. In Ouroboros, Sam was planning to kidnap Michael and keep him at the island house in order to lure Ranboo to the prison (as in canon), but he doesn’t have a chance to actually go through with that plan because he gets distracted by, y’know, Pandora becoming a sentient eldritch horror. So basically, Island AU diverges from Ouroboros in the final chapter. When Dream fakes a suicide attempt to force the Vault to spit him and Sam out, Pandora doesn’t dump them in the prison lobby…it dumps them in Sam’s island house. Essentially, the Vault considers that house (which Sam intended to keep Michael in, ostensibly as a hostage) to be a type of prison, and thus, an extension of Pandora’s Vault. So, Sam takes the only course of action that makes sense to him: he treats Dream’s injuries and officially incarcerates him in the island house. It’s supposed to be temporary, but after a while Sam is resigned to the possibility that he may never return Dream to Pandora Proper. And y’know what? This is fine! This is fine, actually. Dream is still his prisoner, Sam can still be warden here.

In the beginning, the situation is very similar to his and Dream’s dynamic in Pandora. Sam keeps Dream in the little room meant for Michael. The house isn’t really set up for full-on incarceration, so Sam has to make modifications. He can’t exactly install a lava chamber, but he adds chains to the walls so he can keep the prisoner secure. Michael’s room doesn’t have space to add a desk or a cauldron or a toilet, so Dream must be permitted to leave a couple times a day. Dream moves around the house with Sam’s permission and occasionally helps with chores/maintenance/daily tasks (a freedom which Sam justifies as “prison labor” lmfao)

After a while, the two of them fall into a bizarre domesticity: they are essentially cohabiting, but Dream is still Sam’s prisoner and Sam is still Dream’s warden. It’s weird. It’s tense and awful, but it’s also kind of okay sometimes, compared to the prison. Dream eventually hatches a plan to escape, but things get complicated. Honestly, a lot of the “plot” for this AU hinges on the idea of Pandora’s sentience, and the fact that people in-the-know can basically fast-travel between buildings on the server as long as those buildings are limbs of Pandora. It gets very technical so I won’t bore y’all with all that.

Ouroboros Extended Cut AU: In this AU, c!Dream does not attempt to fake his own suicide in order to force Pandora to release him, as he does in Ouroboros. The idea occurs to him, but he has extreme reservations about actually going through with it: what if the plan works too well and he actually kills himself? These reservations aren’t unfounded, given the intense anxieties he has surrounding death in canon. Sam can’t revive him because he has not given Sam the book. So basically, Sam and Dream spend way, way, wayyyy longer trapped inside the prison. I’m talking at least another year or two. And the longer they spend there, the weirder shit gets. This AU leans really heavily into the horror elements of Ouroboros. Dream eventually figures out how to communicate effectively with the Vault. Sam also communicates with the Vault, but far less effectively because he’s Sam and he fucking sucks. There’s plenty of bizarre space-time continuum stuff. Also, the prison gets really good at recreating illusions of people who have spent a lot of time in the Vault in the past. The strongest illusions are capable of speech and sometimes even conversation, though they appear to have a limited variety of possible responses. Quackity is one of those people, but it’s Tommy’s illusion that’s the strongest because he wasn’t just resurrected inside Pandora (like Ghostbur), he actually died there as well.

As things get more horrifying inside the Vault, Sam and Dream become progressively more desensitized to that horror; it changes their dynamic somewhat, because they have to be pragmatic as hell if they want to make it out one day. The Vault wants to keep them alive, and yet is fundamentally hostile to living. Dream is allowed way more freedom (under Sam’s supervision) for reasons of mutual survival. He and Sam become more codependent. I probably will never write this AU down, but if I did, I’d want to incorporate a bunch of minecraft gameplay and environment elements from the big spooky 1.17 Caves & Cliffs update: the warden creatures, the ruins, the Deep Dark biome, the skulk, etc.

Timewarp AU: One of the big decisions I had to make when writing Ouroboros was whether time inside the prison should pass at the same rate as time passes outside the prison. If you’ve read the fic, you know that time inside the Vault passes slower after the prison gains sentience, so Sam and Dream spend months in there but only a few days have passed in the outside world. However, if I’d decided to have time pass in the prison at the same rate it passes on the rest of the server, that would mean Dream completely misses Techno’s rescue. In this AU, Techno shows up on 11/28 to break Dream out and finds the prison seemingly abandoned. After having a thorough look around, he leaves. His thought process: Dream must’ve found some other way to escape! Makes sense! If escape was possible, why would he wait for Techno?

Because of this, when Dream pulls his fake suicide stunt and forces the Vault to spit them out, his incarceration continues as normal because he missed the jailbreak. Ngl, this AU is pretty bleak because Dream is alone and locked up for a much longer period than in canon. (I actually ended up NOT going with this option when writing Ouroboros because my good friend aaron ringenthusiast told me very plainly that any version of events where Dream misses Techno’s big rescue was too depressing to contemplate!)

Eventually the Syndicate get suspicious, of course. It’s been over six months since the failed jailbreak and if Dream really did escape prior to that, it’s weird that he hasn’t tried to contact Techno or reach out to any other Syndicate members…right? Eventually, Phil and Techno are contacted by Punz, who’s forced to out themself as Dream’s ally because they haven’t heard from Dream in an alarming amount of time and are frankly confused. Tbh, I haven’t decided where this AU goes after that, but I think it’d be neat if Dream still gets rescued or maybe even escapes Pandora by himself somehow. I'm fond of stories where Dream is ultimately the one to save himself.

The final AU is Amnesia Island. It’s similar to Island AU Spiderette in that after the events of Ouroboros, Sam manages to move Dream from Pandora onto his island and imprisons him there. However, Dream is in really bad shape. In this version of events, his suicide fake-out was unsuccessful in that he accidentally does kill himself. The Vault still spits them out, but the blood transfusion comes too late and it looks like Dream is actually gonna die – bummer! That’s not what either of them wanted! Luckily, Sam has a secret: he’s already created a clone of Dream’s body (without his consent or knowledge, because of course.) So when Sam realizes Dream is gonna die FR fr, he uses the power of (canonical!) cool awesome unethical science to transfer Dream’s mind to the new body just before Dream dies. This all happens in the triage ward in Pandora. After the process is complete, he whisks his prisoner away to the island.

All should be well, theoretically. Except, uh oh! When Dream wakes up in his new body, he…isn’t Dream. At least, he isn’t Sam’s Dream. Something went wrong, either with the cloning process or the transfer of consciousness. New Dream has clearly got the same personality as old Dream, but minus the traumas he’s recently acquired. Huge chunks of his memory seem to be gone. He doesn’t recall who he is, who Sam is, L’Manberg, the Disc Saga, any of the events of the past couple years. It’s all gone.

Sam’s reaction to the amnesia is…messy. First, he doesn’t believe Dream, thinks he’s faking it. It takes an unpleasant interrogation to finally convince Sam that Dream really doesn’t remember anything. After denial comes anger: this version of Dream is both familiar and alien; he reminds Sam more of the man who built the Community House than the prisoner! Which means all the time and effort Sam spent conditioning the prisoner to fear him and respect him and obey him is wasted. Sam gave up parts of his soul for that deference, that submission. And now it’s just gone. He’s not happy about it. Next comes the bargaining, and finally, acceptance, or something that passes for acceptance until you hold it up to the light. According to Sam’s worldview, Dream is fundamentally corrupt. Even if amnesiac Dream doesn’t remember doing terrible things, he still did them, right? Which means Sam still has a responsibility to keep him locked up. The warden is still needed! This is a huge source of relief, since it preserves Sam’s self-concept.

Only…the situation is a bit more convoluted now. No version of Dream is innocent in Sam’s eyes, which means amnesiac Dream cannot be innocent. But the amnesia complicates things. For one, this Dream doesn’t have nearly as many reasons to fear and hate Sam, which means he’s openly affectionate — helpful, even. Sam appreciates that, and his appreciation throws a wrench in his plan to reincarcerate the prisoner. This is post-Ouroboros Sam, so he is aware on some level that he loves Dream, though he perceives that love as an unforgivable weakness. Not to mention he and Dream have been sleeping together for months and Sam misses that. Given these compounding factors, Sam opts not to punish Dream as frequently or as harshly as he did when they were in Pandora. It’s not that he regrets his former treatment of Dream (after all, Sam has never had any qualms about treating a lover sternly, has he?) but he does have a vested interest in encouraging Dream’s affection. He wants Dream to be obedient, and obedience is an easier thing to offer when you think you’re in love. So Sam does what he has to: he lies.

He doesn’t exactly tell Dream the two of them are married, not quite, but it’s heavily implied. Sam does everything he can to avoid verbally defining their relationship in such clear terms, while simultaneously doing all he can to make Dream believe that the two of them are in an established, committed relationship. It’s not so far from the truth, Sam tells himself. After all, what is the relationship between warden and prisoner if not committed?

In short, their life together on the island is fucked upppp. The two of them cohabitate and eventually resume sleeping together. Dream is not allowed to leave the house without Sam’s supervision, and he’s never allowed near the shoreline under any circumstances. He’s not allowed to send or receive letters or communications of any kind. Dream’s also forbidden from touching or picking up weapons and tools, lest he use them to harm someone (or himself. Sam has nightmares about watching Dream stab himself in Ouroboros.) The list of rules goes on, and the consequences for breaking them are…varied and creative. Dream understands, on some level, that Sam hurts him, that being around Sam is frightening and stressful. But Sam is also his partner, a man Dream thinks he loves. A man he feels comfortable with, sometimes. Dream has been told in simple terms that he’s dangerous, that he needs the warden’s guidance in order to keep everyone else safe. Dream doesn’t remember who “everyone else” is, but he has no reason to wish them ill, whoever they are. So he’s also grateful, in that sense, that Sam is willing to help him not hurt people. It is a gratitude that Sam has manufactured entirely, but it’s a powerful force nonetheless.

So, in summary, they’re codependent as hell and their life together is scary and bad. Don’t worry, it gets better but first it gets worse. As time passes, Dream feels more and more often that the way Sam treats him is unfair, which is objectively true. He has misgivings, but with very few concrete memories to base them on, these misgivings don’t serve him particularly well. However, after about a year of island living, his memories do start to come back gradually. This creates problems. Sam is quite happy with their new arrangement, so Dream’s memories coming back is a nightmare scenario for him. When he begins to notice little clues, it makes him incredibly paranoid, which in turn causes him to act…rashly. There is one notable incident where a bird dies by accidentally flying smack into a window, as birds sometimes do. Dream calmly picks it up and steps around the back of the house to bury it in the garden. But when Sam comes to check on him a few minutes later, he finds the bird alive and flapping, as if it was never hurt. Dream tells Sam he doesn’t remember how he brought the bird back to life; he can’t explain it, he just knew. Sam doesn’t believe him. It’s a rough night.

Of all the AUs, Amnesia Island is probably the one that’s rotted my brain the worst. It's definitely the most detailed so I could probably go on about it forever, but this post is already way too long so I’ll conclude by adding that in none of these AUs does Dream ever cave and give Sam the revive book. He’s holding onto that motherfucker, always and forever. Amen.

#asks #ouroboros #snake fic AUs #cw abuse #cw self harm #not sure what else to tag but there's discussion of some pretty unsavory situations here! tread w caution #c!awesamdream

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ntls-24722 · 7 months ago

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Hi hello 👋 !!!

Just wonder….

Why did Nawi almost killed sindeer when she was a baby? and why does she hate her for exactly?and why did she got pissed when sindeer said that she is dating a woman ????what got her like that????(i’m sorry for this so many questions and I just got sooo interested in sindeer mom /bw ! Nawi looks like she got blood pressure)

Oh how I wonder….

Inshallah You have a good day🤗

No problem, because so am I!!

ACTUALLY, I'll explain ALL of the lore, but the reason why Nawi used to hate Sindeer to the point of almost killing her is because Sindeer was a product of incest.

Obviously, I was very hesitant to talk about this for a WHILE (over a month) due to the subject, but this is kinda the perfect time to. Not portrayed as sexual in any way, but TW/CW for the aforementioned incest and descriptions of gore below.

Nawi's family had left the village they were in to celebrate a marriage, only to come back and see that literally nothing was left - Their home was ambushed and pillaged by a fringe group of nomadic Debu and by the miracle of not being there they missed getting completely slaughtered. [this was the "genetic bottleneck" in the alt text that i was being purposefully vague about. It was way too early in my homo mousike ramblings to be dropping this]. So, Nawi's extended family wandered together with no home to call to, on dry savanna and no cliffsides that they were used to settling on, and many of them were dying out from the exertion and the dehydration - Even if they are in their stone age, they had settled down, and suddenly adopting nomadism is as hard for them as it would be for us, especially when you have no damn clue where you're going.

They decided to marry the younger ones off to eachother in order to have a chance of a legacy, and Nawi was paired with her brother, Okwi. It was traumatic, and over the course of a pregnancy + incubation that she already didn't want, she's noticing a lot of... really weird changes within the group. They had these two beliefs of "Everything bad happened because we took our eyes off of our home", and "The outside world is evil and cannot be trusted", both very volatile, and slowly turning them into a non-religious cult with an hierarchy and entourage of men (Okwi included, being the highest ranked) who were practically worshipped because they were bringing about the new generation and founded this new, less naive way of life, unlike how they were living before.

Nawi's watching this all, obviously weirded out. "Hey guys. Why are we worshipping this way of life. This was awful. There is no honor in what we had to do. This isn't a secret society, we just have no-one else." When Sindeer was born, Nawi could not have been any less disinterested with her, with the way Sindeer was kind of the embodiment of all this and how she was been the first generation to be born under this, and was completely neglectful of her.

The final straw for Nawi was when the rest of the group is planning Sindeer's marriage before she's even able to climb off of her back, paired with Okwi as an honor for being The First and in a misplaced rage, she almost killed Sindeer one night over it, trying to justify it as saving her from her fate.

Nawi failed, mostly because she didn't have the heart to decapitate a baby, but partially because she realized that Sindeer was the only one of her kids that survived, and if SHE died, then Nawi might be expected to make more. The latter realization was what mobilized her to leave the weird cult her family had become, not just for her, but for Sindeer too. She tries to pull a "I'm going to go out for milk" (water, in her case) on her entire family, but it was late and they made her husband go with her. Awful choice!

Nawi proceeded to crack his skull open and rummage around in the cranial space to turn his brain into soup, hoping that doing so would rob him of an afterlife. Following this, she booked it out of there with baby Sindeer on her back for them to discover the corpse of the highest ranking man in the morning.

Sindeer knows about absolutely none of this.

...On a MUCH lighter note though: Nawi was mad about Sindeer telling her that she dated women because she was TRULY UPSET that she didn't think of dating women first.

If Okwi wasn't indicative enough, Nawi's love life is abysmal and even after him, she seemed to be a magnet for truly rancid men. What's funny is that Nawi actually does start dating women after this, even though she's straight, and she's having a much better time. She completely swore off men, and talks about them like a vice that she's quit cold turkey on.

#ntls-24722 #homo mousike #Nawi #Sindeer #ask #tw incest #cw incest #incest cw #incest tw #tw inc*st #cw inc*st #...gore??????#Okwi

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mika-writes-fanfics · 2 years ago

Text

Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Synopsis: You encounter an injured Shigaraki and offer your healing quirk to his aid. Little did you know, healers were hard to come by in the underground and Shigaraki takes a liking to your skills. To further his cause, he kidnaps you and holds you captive under the watch of the LOV. You play the role of the LOV's little healer while you think of a way to escape. Unbeknownst to you, the pyromaniac with a cold heart begins to melt in your presence. Your compassion and wit draw him in, all the while he swears it's only curiosity he feels toward you. But when your touch heals his burns and your personality soothes his anguish, Dabi begins to wonder, what exactly is he feeling for you? And why the hell does he feel so torn up when you slip away?

Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, female/afab reader, healing quirk, aftermath of hideout raid

Author's Note: Okay a lot happens this chapter but bear with me, I’m speedrunning to the smut because I promised within 3 chapters and I’m trying to fucking deliver. I originally wanted to have reader also be teleported away with Bakugo since it would be closer to the canon, as AFO tp’d bakugo since Shiggy thought he was important. I went with this instead because the other idea did not translate well in writing. Waaaayy too much action for a fic, I’ll take a plot hole instead, thank you very much. You guys pick if you drink tea or coffee (if you drink neither I'm sorry lol). Anyways, rambling aside, I hope you enjoy

Word Count: 8.1K

Link to AO3

Chapter Eight: Pizza Delivery!

Dabi can tell you’re much more distant now, no doubt because of what Compress said, or rather, what the league had done. You try to hide your feelings behind a mask of neutrality, but Dabi is perceptive. He’s good at reading people, especially you. You’ve spent so much time around him and you’ve occupied so much space in his head that it’s become second nature for him to memorize your face. Besides the fact that he’s noticed your face is no longer as carefree, it’s easy to see how much differently you’re acting towards him. You heal his hands over without any comments and your touch doesn’t linger on him a moment longer than necessary. You’ve completely withdrawn from him, it seems.

“Let him out of the marble in a minute, we need time to prepare,” Shigaraki orders. “Kurogiri, get the stuff.”

Kurogiri nods and bows, leaving the room to fetch the required restraints. You watch in slight horror as he returns with a chair, hand restraints, and a full-body harness equipped with locks. They must really think this kid is a danger to them to go to those lengths. You weren’t even restrained like that when Shigaraki abducted you, but to be fair, your kidnapping was more spur of the moment and less planned out than this. If snatching this kid was the whole purpose of the mission, the LOV has been gearing up for at least a week. You remember hearing Magne say this plan will humiliate UA, and you know Shigaraki’s main goal is dismantling hero society. You’re not entirely sure how the two are connected, but there’s one thing you’re sure of: Shigaraki will use any methods necessary to achieve that goal.

You’re glad you finished healing Dabi when you did. Touching him after seeing the methods they intend to use on a child would confuse you more than you already are. You want to ask him just what the hell was he thinking, why did he even agree to this, and what methods would he stoop down to in order to achieve his own goals. You want to know, no, you need to know, as if understanding would make the hurt go away and would repair your now tainted view of him. This situation makes you realize how far you’ve fallen, how desensitized to their crimes you’ve become. Seeing the league’s humanity and domesticity has done a number on your mind. What part do you play in this? Are you helping them commit these atrocities? Or are you really just looking out for yourself? The questions and racing thoughts burn through your emotional energy. You feel so damn drained.

As confusing and depressing as your situation is right now, you have to ask yourself: What can you do right now? You don’t have the power to run away, to change their minds, to condemn their behavior, to break the kid out of captivity. But what you can do is heal the kid if he’s hurt, share with him what you’ve learned, and provide him with anything that could possibly be useful. If this kid has a fighting quirk, he has the best chance of getting out. If he manages to pull it off then maybe, just maybe, he could tell someone where you are. People aren’t looking for you because it looked like you either disappeared into thin air or ran off entirely without telling anyone. If the authorities know where to look and who you’re with, it’s possible you can get out sooner. The moral dilemmas will come after you’ve made it out, but not a moment sooner. Carrying on is all you can do besides give the kid all the tools to escape.

While you’re in your own head rationalizing everything, Dabi takes notice of you. He sees the gears turning in your head and the expressions of sadness that accompany them. It wrenches his chest, a bit, to see you so despondent and to experience you acting so distant. He’s grown used to the banter you share. Your laughs, smiles, and mischievous expressions have become simple pleasures he looks forward to after a long day of tainting his hands and staining his soul. All good things must come to an end, he’s especially cognizant of that fact of life. Still, it stings to know the good slice of his life that is you will be ripped away from him so soon. He convinces himself it’s for the best. Growing closer to you is a distraction from his life’s purpose. Losing you is part of the price tag that comes with buying into revenge.

The two of you are stirred out of your thoughts upon Kurogiri setting everything up under Shigaraki’s orders. The chair is placed on the opposite side of the room, far away from everyone else. With all the restraints weaved through the chair legs and backrest, it won’t be easy for this kid to just break free of the bindings. Shigaraki gives the go-ahead, allowing Compress to release his quirk. The kid emerges from the marble and lays out on the floor, unconscious. Seeing the kid completely unresponsive makes you sick. Intrusive thoughts make you picture this poor kid getting knocked out before his abduction, which only worsens your spiraling mind.

“Well that’s definitely Bakugo Katsuki,” Shigaraki comments. “Why’s he knocked out though? I told you all to not harm the target.”

“Looks like he fell asleep in that marble,” Compress reasons. “He was unharmed when he went in, but he’s been compressed for an hour or two. I suspect he was bored in there.” You find yourself feeling somewhat relieved upon hearing this information.

“I guess this is to our benefit. He’ll be easier to restrain this way,” Shigaraki settles. “Kurogiri, you do it. If he wakes up, you know what to do.” Kurogiri follows his orders and gently places Bakugo in the chair, clasping all the restraints around him. It’s kind of amazing how he’s able to sleep through it all.

‘This kid is one hell of a heavy sleeper,’ you think.

“Since he’s still asleep, we’ll go over what happens next,” Shigaraki announces.

“Should we really do this in earshot of him? If he wakes up, he’ll hear everything,” Dabi criticizes.

“Well we can’t just leave him alone,” Shigaraki refutes.

“Look at him, do you really think he’ll be able to get out of that?” Dabi points out. Shigaraki seems to consider the idea, though he doesn’t budge quite yet. “It’s your call, but I think this is stupid either way.”

“Fine! We’ll talk about it in the kitchen,” Shigaraki throws his hands up and relents. The rest of the league files out of the room. You’re about to follow before Shigaraki singles you out. “And you,” he points at you. “Go to your room.”

“Me? What did I do?” You ask, incredulously. Somehow this feels like a punishment.

“I’m not risking you breaking out the kid and ruining my plans while we’re busy,” he justifies. “You’re going upstairs.”

“Okay mom, how long am I grounded for then?”

“Until I say so. Go fuck off to your room, now,” he warns, crimson eyes glaring at you in annoyance. His tone and choice of words let you know he’s in no mood for your antics or sarcasm today. Shigaraki seems tense. This plan of his is evidently high stakes, but so is yours. You take the warning and head up the stairs, pretending to go into your room. Your feet stop just short of the top of the stairs, carefully peering around the corner and listening out.

Shigaraki pulls them all to another room to start discussing the plan, detailing the reason why he asked for Bakugo’s kidnapping. You’re ever thankful that the league tends to be loud as it makes your intentions much easier to pull off. You slip past the door and carefully tiptoe to the kid. Your luck must finally be turning, as you see the kid slowly start to regain consciousness. He blinks a few times, carmine eyes adjusting to the light. You see a flash of panic on his face upon seeing the new environment and feeling the restraints constricting his body.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. Did they hurt you?” You whisper, expressing your condolences. He seems to be a fiery kid, as his face twists in a sneer.

“Get the fuck away from me, wench,” the blonde kid bites. You back up and raise your arms, despite the fact he’s completely tied to a chair. You’re starting to see the intimidation factor that seems to surround this kid.

“Woah there, I’m like you, kid. I don’t want to be here either, they kidnapped me too,” you negotiate carefully.

“So what, you just decided to fight for them after they kidnapped you? That’s pretty pathetic if you ask me,” he insults. Your eyebrow twitches. You’re trying to help him, does this kid really need to rub salt in the wound?

“One, I didn’t ask you. Two, I can’t fight, I’m here because of my healing quirk. And three, I’m trying to help you,” you lecture.

“Oh,” he says, in a rather small voice. It’s clear the kid is at least a little ashamed of his outburst.

“Yeah, jump to conclusions much?” You sass. You try to reign in your exasperation and approach the situation gently. “Now, one more time, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, they barely even scratched me. Though that one stapled guy had a death grip on my neck,” he complains. Your heart drops at the revelation.

“Sounds like Dabi,” you inform, trying to cover up your saddened tone. You push your emotions to the side and focus on helping the kid. A quick visual pass over his neck doesn’t reveal any injuries, thankfully. “I don’t see any bruises, so it looks like you’re okay.”

“How long have you been here?” He asks. You can almost detect the faintest bit of sympathy in his voice.

“You know, now that you mention it… I’ve kinda lost track,” you say somberly. “But that doesn’t matter right now. Do you know if your friends or teachers see it happen? If they know why you’re gone and who took you, they’re probably already looking for you as we speak.”

“Oh they saw everything alright,” he snorts. You’re surprised at that, you would have figured with all the sneaky quirks up their sleeve that the LOV would have done this stealthily. Though, remembering how Magne remarked that this plan was supposed to humiliate UA, which you’ve come to realize is a school, makes you see that stealth was never the point.

“I have a feeling the heroes will at least try to rescue you, but if you have a strong quirk, you might be able to make your own way,” you explain. “But listen to me, do not brute force an escape. Take the opportunity if it presents itself, but don’t put yourself in danger. If you get out and I don’t, keep going. You can just tell the heroes where I am.”

“Like I’d leave a civilian with them. I wouldn’t be a hero-in-training if I just left you here. We’ll break out of here and pummel those bastards, I promise!” he says with conviction. His spitfire personality grows on you a bit in that moment. Even though he was a little rude to you at first, you still want to help him any way you can. You fill him in on what you’ve learned about the league, mostly giving him information about all their quirks and potential weaknesses. The league’s chatter in the other room seems to slowly die down. With the remaining time you have, you warn him not to attack and that subtly is safer, to which he seems incredibly appalled by.

“I’m not much of a faker,” he says with pride. “I make my own opening, my way.”

“We’ll talk about why that’s such a terrible idea later, I gotta go back before they notice,” You hurriedly advise. “You gotta pretend you didn’t see me, alright? I wasn’t supposed to be down here with you.” He gives you an understanding nod and you take the chance to scurry away. You’re actually thankful you’ve been at the league’s base for so long, as you’ve recognized which floorboards creak the most and which path is the quietest. You slip away and head to your room, unnoticed. It’s incredibly lucky that you haven’t been caught scheming. Your ears strain to pick up on everyone’s footfalls until the sounds become more clear, before eventually stopping entirely. It seems they’re done with the debriefing process and are back in the bar.

“Y/n! Shigaraki said you’re not grounded anymore!” Toga calls out. You don’t hesitate to take the opportunity and you head downstairs, joining the others. Everyone seems to be staring at Bakugo in either anticipation or caution. They seem to avoid getting near his space, as evident by the distance between Bakugo and the others. The atmosphere is incredibly tense, no doubt due to the seething expression on Bakugo’s face. An uneasy silence settles in the room. Even the more talkative members of the LOV refrain from talking. Shigaraki is the one to speak first, breaking the silence and establishing his control over the situation.

“Dabi, take off his restraints,” Shigaraki commands.

“You know he’s just going to try to fight us, right?” Dabi asks, doubtful of his leader’s plan.

“It’s fine, if we’re scouting him, we need to treat him like equals,” Shigaraki dismisses. Shigaraki’s words fail to convince him.

Dabi looks at the kid, sizing him up. He must not like what he sees as he offloads the responsibility onto Twice. “Twice, you do it.”

“Why me?!” Twice exclaims. Even he doesn’t seem too thrilled about the idea.

“Just do it,” Dabi insists, exasperated by Twice’s hesitance.

“No way,” Twice denies with exaggerated gestures, before dropping the resistance entirely. Twice ends up walking over to Bakugo and unlocking all the restraints. You try to shoot him a look as a reminder about what the two of you secretly discussed: don’t be stupid and do something obvious. The warning is lost on the kid as he ignores your intense gaze and lunges for Shigaraki. An explosion hits the leader in the face, clouding him in a bit of smoke. The kid quickly backs away from Shigaraki’s space, taking advantage of the initial shock.

You stare at Bakugo, dumbfounded, with an expression that can only communicate, ‘What the fuck are you doing?!’

You feel yourself sweating out of stress. Shigaraki seems completely stunned, but despite his initial lack of reaction, you find yourself growing anxious upon realizing that his hand mask is on the floor. You’ve never seen him take it off. He’s gotta be especially protective over that thing. Bakugo seems to be eyeing the situation, eyes darting back and forth between everyone, clearly cooking up a plan to escape. It’s then you realized you forgot to tell him all the doors are locked. You feel a dawning horror invade your emotions. This is going terribly and you can’t help but feel it’s all your fault.

To your surprise, Shigaraki doesn’t respond with malice. Rather, he commands for everyone to leave the kid unharmed. He specifically instructs Compress and Kurogiri to put him back to sleep. The mercy the LOV leader is showing is incredibly unlike him, but welcome nonetheless. Shigaraki’s orders make you release the breath you were holding and relax. Still, you don’t tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding, staying alert in case you can help the kid out in some way. Compress carefully begins to approach Bakugo. The kid sizes up the situation and seems to brace himself for the chance he could dodge Compress.

A knock on the door makes everyone halt in their places, momentarily pausing the confrontation. “Pizza delivery!” A voice says from behind the door. The league members look at each other in skepticism.

“Did one of you idiots order a fucking pizza, I swear to god-“ Shigaraki questions, cut off by a loud crash that sounds off to the right of them. You turn to look, seeing the wall blown in by people donned in capes and bodysuits. The sight makes you want to cry in relief. It’s the heroes, the two of you are saved. You even see All Might amongst the heroes, the man who’s known internationally for being the unbeatable symbol of peace. You just hope that All Might remains unstoppable in the face of the League of Villains. The heroes don’t hesitate a second longer, as everyone springs into action. Tree branches reach for all the villains, ensnaring everyone, including you. It's then you realize how your situation must look from the outside. The heroes think you’re a villain.

Fuck.

How do you convince them you’re not a threat when there’s not even time for you to speak?

A flash of blue fire erupts from Dabi’s head. If the heroes don’t neutralize his quirk, he’ll definitely burn the branches restraining you all until nothing remains but ash. You were hopeful you’d get out of here, but you’re feeling doubtful now. The situation is incredibly hectic and ever-changing. A flash of yellow zooms past you, moving far too fast for your eyes to fully comprehend. When you turn your head, you catch sight of an old man in a yellow cape kicking Dabi on the back of the head. Dabi’s eyes seem to roll back and he slumps forward into the branches. The scene makes you absolutely dumbstruck. Dabi is knocked out cold.

With Dabi ‘dispatched’, his flames are no longer an issue. The only blaring issue that remains to you is figuring out how to convince the heroes you aren’t a criminal. You’re not really given an opportunity, as All Might’s booms over yours. The sheer volume of his voice commands the room, there’s no way you can speak over him. All Might is completely focused on Bakugo, fussing over him like a concerned parent. They have a quick, heart-to-heart conversation, something about how terrifying it must have been for Bakugo to handle this on his own. Even in such a sincere moment, Bakugo’s personality shines through, as he vehemently denies ever feeling scared at all. The heroes are gloating as Shigaraki seethes at the scene, twitching from rage. You swear your eyes catch sight of something in the air, some red string that keeps catching the light. You’re straining to see what it is when the thread thickens. A face emerges from the thread, startling you. You’d jump on the spot if you weren’t completely immobilized.

“Oh? Who’s this? It appears our intel failed to find out a new villain joined their ranks,” the face muses. You open your mouth to counter his accusation, but you’re beaten to the point.

“Edgeshot, she’s not a villain!” Bakugo yells. “She’s just a civilian.”

“Not only did you abduct my pupil, but a civilian too?” All Might condemns, before confidently continuing. “It’s over. The childish pranks end now.”

All Might’s words must have enraged Shigaraki and pulled him out of his stunned stupor. Shigaraki shouts orders at Kurogiri to open up a warp gate, but the heroes have thought ahead. Kurogiri is pierced through the abdomen by who you understand is the hero Edgeshot, and promptly slumps over, Kurogiri’s body seemingly completely limp. You’re aghast in horror until the hero reappears from the thread and claims to have merely put him to sleep. You feel like you’re on a rollercoaster, with constant ups and downs, getting scared and worried just to feel slightly more at ease before the cycle happens again.

All Might seems to ask Shigaraki a question, something that seems important to the heroes, but you don’t pay it any mind. You can’t seem to focus on their conversation. Something just seems off. It appears there’s something in certain spots of the air that distorts, rippling in a way that’s reminiscent of water. You know it’s not the thread hero again, as he’s already materialized. These distortions are much different anyways. It’s almost like a dark spot is appearing, floating in space. Your suspicions are confirmed as black ooze seems to drip down out of thin air. The viscous mixture seems to grow in size as it pours down until you see pale limbs reaching out. Strange, humanoid beings come out of the sludge. Several of them have their brains exposed and completely uncovered by a skull. You feel sick just at the sight of something so unnatural and grotesque. What the hell are these things?

Whatever summoned these creatures takes advantage of the chaos. Black sludge erupts from the mouths of all LOV members. It encases the villains in a shroud of darkness and their bodies disappear into the inky depths, without a trace and leaving behind empty space where they were once restrained by branches. Bakugo seems to have been transported out of the room as well. His disappearance causes All Might to frantically yell upon failing to grab him. You’re shocked to see the hero look so caught off guard and genuinely emotional. He’s always been known to smile even in the face of danger. The fact he’s so openly shouting in distress is more than alarming.

You’re even more taken aback when you see the creatures begin to lunge for the heroes, forcing All Might and the rest to fight back. It’s clear to you that whatever the hell these monsters are, they’re far from friendly and they are numerous. The creatures seem to be even outside of the bar, as evident by the shrills of terror. It sounds terrible out there, you can hear screams, bullets, and the sound of fighting.

As you watch the scene unfold, your eyes accidentally make eye contact with a monster. One seems to turn in your direction and hone in on you. Your wide eyes stare in horror at the creature as it rushes towards you. It leaps and lunges at you. You flinch and screw your eyes shut, unable to do anything else besides steel yourself for the inevitable. The wooden hero creates a wall of branches between you and the monster, blocking off its attack.

“There’s too many! Kamui, get her out of here!” You overhear Edgeshot shout. Kamui, who you’ve come to realize is the tree hero, follows Edgeshot’s orders. The branches pull you from the room and out from the gaping hole in the wall, away from the chaos and combat. You’re lifted onto a nearby roof, still tightly bound by Kamui’s quirk. He stands near the edge of the building, seemingly scanning the surroundings, probably looking for a safer place to deliver you. You look over the streets as well, seeing destruction everywhere you look. It’s clear there’s no escape from the turmoil just yet. You catch his heroic posture faltering, with his shoulders drooping ever so slightly. No words are shared between the two of you as you both wait for the conflict to die down, unable to tear your eyes away from the morbid scene.

Eventually, enough bullets are spent and enough blood has been shed, as the strange creatures are put down. Kamui makes the descent down from the roof with you in tow. You’re delivered in front of a flaming hero, with a permanent scowl on his face, conversing with a police officer. Their attention immediately snaps to you. The large, flaming man looks at you with disinterest, but the officer seems perplexed by you.

“And who is this supposed to be?” The hero grills Kamui.

“Don’t know, we saw her in the base with the League of Villains,” he answers. “Kid believes she’s a civilian.”

“Civilian, huh? That’s rich,” the flame hero scoffs. The hero turns his attention to the police officer and gives him an order. “Put the quirk cuffs on her, we’ll process her like any other villain until we have actual evidence saying otherwise.”

The police officer looks skeptical and doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, his eyes narrow at you and he looks at you with vague recognition. The hero takes notice of his hesitance and asks, clearly annoyed, “What’s the hold-up?”

“Endeavor, with all due respect, I don’t believe she is a villain,” the policeman objects.

“Don’t tell me even you are falling for this ruse,” the hero sneers. “She was surely a part of some plan to trick the student. She probably lied to him and posed as another victim in order to gain his trust.”

“I worked a case a while back. A University student went missing without a trace. She matches the description,” he informs. The hero, who you assume is named Endeavor, remains unconvinced. The officer sighs, and compromises, “Look, we could ask her some questions, and if her answers match, then she’s actually a civilian and telling the truth.” Endeavor seems to think it over, relenting upon seeing the officer’s determined expression.

“Fine, ask your stupid questions, but she’s going to Tartarus if her answers don’t check out. Mark my words,” Endeavor warns. The officer gives a curt nod and turns to you.

“What’s your first name?” He opens.

“Y/n,” you answer.

“And your quirk?”

“Healing skin.”

“Seems like her,” the officer gloats. Endeavor remains skeptical, as is evident with his narrowed eyes and mouth pressed in a scowl.

Endeavor counters the officer’s claim, “Couldn’t she be pretending to be your missing university student? If it was all over the news-”

“It wasn’t,” the officer interrupts. “So many people go missing in this district that one more hardly makes the news. It’s her, there’s not a doubt in my mind.”

“What were you doing with the League of Villains?” Endeavor interrogates. He seems incredibly suspicious of you. You suppose you can’t really blame him. Edgeshot assumed you were in cahoots with the league back at the hideout. From an outsider’s perspective, you really did look suspect. Still, you have an opportunity to clear your name. The most you can do is tell your story and hope they believe you.

“Shigaraki knocked me out when I ran into him one night. When I woke up, I realized I had been kidnapped,” you explain. “He liked my quirk and thought I’d be useful. If I didn’t heal the league like he asked, he said he’d disintegrate me.”

Endeavor lets out an exhausted sigh, before rubbing his temples with one hand. “Take her to HPSC headquarters. The commission is gonna want to hear about this,” he orders the officer.

Kamui takes this as a sign to unhand you. He finally releases you from his quirk’s hold, much to your relief. The officer speaks into the radio on his suit, updating the situation and requesting a squad car, before leading you away. He escorts you away from the aftermath of the raid, guiding you through the scattered piles of debris, until you arrive at the police car, parked on an intact street with another officer waiting expectantly outside. The additional police officer opens the door to the backseat for you and you climb in, after which she shuts it behind you. Sounds of sirens and yelling are muffled in the car, giving you a momentary respite from all the commotion and the ability to finally process what happened.

You sit in the back of the squad car, contemplating everything that has happened while staring out the window. Just a few hours ago, you were healing the league and even laughing with them. After you realized they kidnapped a kid and then the heroes broke down the wall, everything seemed to just crash down at once. Somehow, you developed a sort of camaraderie with the lot, despite not subscribing to their goals and actively wishing to be away from them. You adapted to it. Life with the league became your new normal. But what will your normal be now? You doubt your life can just rewind back to the way it was before you were kidnapped, not since you escaped the clutches of the league. Speaking of, would they come back for you? Would they punish you for escaping? Would you ever see him again? These are questions you never thought to ask all the times you were fantasizing about fleeing. Now that you’re here, the questions are unavoidable and unfortunately, without answers.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don't care to listen to the officers radioing their superiors. You only process that they started the car when you see the scenery whizzing by. The drive to headquarters is simultaneously overwhelming yet quiet. The officers haven’t spoken a word to you since loading you into the car, leaving you to drown in your own head.

You thought you’d be happy to see the outside again, but now that you’re here, it’s incredibly overstimulating. The lights are too bright, the buildings are too big, and the radio relaying updates is far too loud. Your hands ball up in your lap, knuckles turning white from your anxious clenching. You worry your time in captivity has ruined you, and the thought only serves to heighten your anxiety.

The car eventually rolls up to a large building and parks on the curb. One of the officers opens your car door after getting out herself, and you step out and onto the sidewalk. They both lead you into the building, where they freely walk into the lobby, filled with heroes coming and going. The receptionist doesn’t bother to stop the officers, instead giving them a look of recognition and an understanding nod. You all shuffle into an elevator and rise to the top floor. The ascent is silent until the elevator dings and the metal doors slide open. You all step out of the elevator and into a sort of waiting area, where a man with crimson red wings greets the officers. They exchange polite greetings all the while you stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do in the situation. The pupils in the hero’s yellow eyes seem to narrow to slits when they dart to you, sizing you up with interest.

“So this must be the little dove found at the hideout,” the feathered hero muses, as he looks at you.

“You’d be correct,” the officer confirms. “We’re supposed to escort Miss y/n to the Safety Commission President. Would you know where she is around now?”

“Don’t worry about it, I can take over from here. You two must have a mountain of paperwork after the Kamino raid, ” Hawks offers. They seem to be grateful for this, as you’re handed off to the bird-like hero. The police officers say their thanks before heading back down through the elevators, leaving you alone with yet another new person.

“The name’s Hawks. Nice to meet you, y/n,” he introduces, rather informally.

“Y-yeah, likewise,” you stutter, feeling a bit nervous in the company of a new stranger. “Um, Hawks?”

“Hmm?” He hums.

“Why am I here?”

“You’ve piqued the interest of some very important people,” he explains. You must look worried as he quickly adds, “They just want to know about what happened to you and what you know, that sort of thing.”

“I see…” you reply, voice trailing off.

You’re led through the halls and into a sort of conference room. Five strangers in formal business wear sit behind a slightly curved desk, arranged in a sort of panel. Hawks ushers you to the center of the room, leaving you to stand in front of them as he posts himself near the door. You’re not sure what is going on. Your palms start sweating from nervousness. It feels like you’re in a courtroom, on trial. One of the five people sitting behind the long table presses a button on what you assume is some sort of audio recording device. The questions feel endless, just one after another, all asking about the LOV. Over time, they seem less suspicious of you and your story, especially after explaining Shigaraki’s initial threats. The meeting, or rather, the interrogation ends with a question about Shigaraki and Dabi.

“Do you know their real names? We have reason to suspect their current identifiers are just monikers. Nothing is known of their real identities. Anything you know could be useful,” one of them explains. You shake your head.

“They never revealed their true names and I never cared to ask,” you inform. There’s a look of disappointment on her face before she shuts the recorder off.

“I see. That’s a shame,” she responds. “As a precautionary measure, we’ve arranged for you to be housed in a safe location, where you will stay until the League of Villains is captured. It’s unlikely they will try to find you given the severe blow the raid inflicted on them, but please, bear with us until then. We appreciate your cooperation.”

The door clicks open and you take that as your cue to leave, eagerly walking out with Hawks trailing behind you. You’re relieved for the process to finally be over. That damn interrogation was anxiety-inducing to say the least. Your apparent discomfort must be noticeable to Hawks, no doubt from your loud sighs, as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You alright?” Hawks asks. There’s this small hint of genuine concern in his voice, something you picked up on. From the interactions you’ve had with him, he always seems to have this sort of carefree and upbeat personality.

“I will be,” you offer. You rub at your eyes, feeling the effects of your hectic day wearing down your energy. “Some sleep would help. I’ll probably feel a bit better in the morning.”

“I hear ya,” he responds. “Come on, I’ll get you out of here so you can rest, follow me.” He notions to the elevators with a nod of his head in that direction, and proceeds to walk over. Hawks calls for the elevator and you follow him in when the doors open. He tucks his large wings closer to his body, so that they don’t take up as much space. You weren’t able to see he pushed the up button, so when the elevator rises to the roof access, revealing the night sky, you’re more than a little confused.

“I thought you were taking me out of here?” You ask.

“I am,” he responds, almost matter-of-factly.

“But why are we on the roof?”

“Why walk when you could fly?”

“Oh hell no,” you refuse.

“I’m fast, it’ll be over before you know it,” he bargains. “It’s more secure this way anyways. You can’t be followed as easily.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. Just… don’t drop me,” you relent, understanding his point.

“I wouldn’t be a very good hero if I let you fall,” he laughs. “You’ll be fine, hold on tight.”

He scoops you into his arms and you tightly cling to the fabric of his shirt. His wings flap, sending powerful gusts of wind, until you’re both lifted off the ground. The roof grows farther and farther away from you as he ascends into the sky. True to his words, he’s incredibly fast, as the skyscrapers seem to whizz by, almost blurring together. The experience is equal parts nerve-wracking, exhilarating, and freeing. It had been so long since you’d last seen the night sky, and now it feels like you’re seeing it much closer than ever before. Had you not been in the arms of a reliable hero, you’d be more scared-shitless and less naturally wary of this experience.

He eventually lands on the roof of what looks to be an apartment high-rise. Your legs feel wobbly from the adrenaline when he finally sets you down. You’re thankful he gives you a few moments to recollect yourself, before showing you down a flight of stairs and into a hall of apartment doors. He opens the unlocked door to your provided room and ushers you in.

“You should be safe here,” he assures. “Most of your neighbors are heroes. You’re in good hands, but just in case, I’ll be checking in every so often.”

“Thank you, Hawks,” you say, relief clear in your voice. You offer him a grateful smile.

“Don’t mention it,” he accepts. “Lock the doors and get some rest, you’ve more than earned it after what you went through.” You do as you’re told when he leaves your new apartment, turning the locks and deadbolt. Silence settles upon your new home as you’re left completely alone for the first time all night. The realization feels so foreign to you, as you remember how even at the LOV base, you were never truly left alone. There was always at least someone around you, some pair of eyes and ears attuned to you, preventing your escape. Despite how odd it feels, you press on and find your way to the bedroom. You immediately crawl into bed and fall asleep, still in your clothes, lacking the energy to even think about changing out of them. It’s when the bright light of the morning shines through your windows, waking you up, that you realize all your things were back at the LOV base.

In the light of the day and now refreshed from sleep, you take the time to explore your new flat. The apartment is neither extremely big or claustrophobically small, instead sitting at a nice medium between the two extremes. It seems mostly fitted with all the necessities. When you look in the closet, you even find there’s already a small selection of neutral clothes, ranging in size. You reason they must keep this place preemptively stocked for cases such as yourself.

You go about your morning, trying to ignore how odd it feels to be on your own for once. Going through the motions of showering, changing into comfortable clothes, and making breakfast seems to distract you from the feelings. When you’re out of things to add to your routine, you decide to turn on the news to understand what happened last night. The reporter goes over the major events of the hideout raid, most of which are things you already knew, though, both you and the public alike are left in the dark as to what those strange monsters were. Your knee bounces nervously upon just seeing those things again. The reporter then updates the public on what happened to Bakugo. You feel immense relief upon seeing the news reporter happily report that the UA student has been returned unharmed.

Your doorbell rings, tearing your attention away from the segment. Suspicious, you slowly walk to the door, peering through the peephole. Through the fish-eyed glass, you’re able to see a familiar shock of blonde hair and red wings waiting patiently at your step. You let out a relieved sigh and unlock the door to allow Hawks into your home.

“Heyo,” he greets. “How’s the new place treating you?”

“It’s nice, definitely beats staying at the hideout,” you answer. “Say, speaking of, will I be able to get anything back from there?”

“Yeah, about that, I have some bad news,” he starts. Hawks informs you that damage done to the LOV’s base meant that almost all of your belongings were destroyed. Not much was salvageable in the aftermath. Speaking of the aftermath, he warns you that the heroes have been unable to apprehend the league yet. Their current whereabouts are completely unknown. Despite this, Hawks assures you that it was unlikely the LOV should seek you out again, given the rationality that there are other healers out there and they were dealt a huge loss. You suppose it made sense, but you can’t shake the concern.

“So what does this all mean for me?” You ask.

“Well, until they’re found, you’ll have to stay here,” he explains.

“I guess that’s not so bad,” you accept. “This place is much closer to (campus/work) so my walk won’t be as bad.” He grimaces at your comment, clearly knowing something you don’t.

“No, you literally have to stay here. Unless it’s an emergency, you can’t leave. I’ll be dropping by to check in on you every few days though, so you won’t be completely alone, at least,” he clarifies. Your face drops at the information.

“Oh! Before I forget,” he adds, seemingly remembering something. He pulls a phone from his jacket pocket, one that looks extremely familiar. “I also managed to grab your phone from the evidence locker. The police took it from the scene of your disappearance. You can call your family or friends, let them know you’re alive. I’m sure they’ve been worried about you.” You accept your phone from his hand. Although your phone is dead, you’re sure there’ll be a million calls on your lock screen once it’s turned on.

“Yeah, I’m sure they have,” you agree, a bit solemnly.

“Just… don’t tell them where you are. It’d defeat the whole purpose of hiding you from the league, you know?” You nod, accepting those terms. It’s ironic, you think, how you were supposedly freed, yet you were not granted freedom. You were still locked away, prevented from leaving. Yes, you understood the rationale behind it, but that didn’t mean it erased the fact the situation felt eerily familiar.

Hawks would do regular check-ins. First a couple times a day, then once a day, until slowing down to every two days. When he had the time, he’d stay a little longer to talk and the two of you would hang out in your living room. You got to know the now number two hero fairly well from all those moments. The two of you mostly made small talk, though there were some moments in which you two seemed to genuinely laugh at some stupid joke or share the same opinions on a controversial topic. Sometimes, he’d ask about what your life in the league was like. You were (mostly) honest with him about it, telling him stories about your interactions with everyone. It was a bit fun to see his eyes widen in shock when you recounted some of the things you said to Shigaraki. He seemed a bit aghast to know you made such snarky comments and survived to tell the tale. But, you always were careful to conveniently leave out the details about Dabi. You weren’t sure what he, and the HPSC, would do if they heard you nearly made out with a wanted villain. Some things were better left unsaid.

When you weren’t accompanied by Hawks in your home, you’d spend your time distracting yourself rather than unpacking what happened. Without a therapist, you’d get nowhere. You’d rather bide your time rather than spiral into blaming yourself or justifying the league. You fear it has already begun with your cynicism towards the HPSC, which is why you desperately wish to talk to someone you can trust. Not only that, but your dreams were often about Dabi. Despite what he had done, you seem to still hold a fondness for him. You still desired him. These dreams confused you to no end, but you were never able to rationalize them. It was frustrating, to be locked away, supposedly in safety, but not even granted the ability to talk to a professional about what happened to you. The HPSC claimed due to the high-profile nature of this case, you’d have to wait until the LOV was in custody before you could begin your visits. They seemed to defend their actions by claiming a therapist leaking your case would draw attention to their investigation and endanger you by confirming where you are. Not only that, but they said the risk of Twice’s clones or Toga infiltrating your appointments was too high to justify.

Over time, the weeks of isolation slowly turned into a few months, the passage of time aided by endless distractions. You were starting to get in the swing of things. Being alone no longer felt as foreign, it was becoming natural again. Unfortunately, your whole routine was about to be disrupted. Unbeknownst to you, miles away in Deika City, Shigaraki begins plotting something. A plan to shake up the confidence of the hero commission, starting with you.

“The heroes took something from me. I need to teach them a lesson in stealing what is mine,” Shigaraki states to his lieutenants in the PLF army. “It’s time to return our healer.” And with his command, the plans are set in motion.

Hours later and back to your place, you hear a knock on your door. Figuring it must be Hawks, you shout from your kitchen, “Hold on, I’m coming!” You make your way to the foyer, not bothering to look through the peephole and open the door. Instead of meeting with Hawks, there’s another hero at your doorstep.

“You’re not who I was expecting,” you say, a bit suspiciously. “Normally someone else checks in on me, has this changed?”

“Oh, just for today. I’m just filling in. You know how busy us heroes are!” He answers.

“R-right, I suppose the hero lifestyle can get hectic,” You mumble. You still can’t shake your suspicion.

“H-hey, do you mind showing me your quirk? It’s part of the protocol, you know, to make sure there’s no imposters,” you lie.

“Oh, my bad! I must have missed that part of the report,” the hero apologizes. He buys your lie, which seems a bit suspect, but he shows you his quirk nonetheless. “Slidin’ Go, signature slide!” He slides on the floor, without resistance. Pretty useless quirk, in your opinion, but given how he can still use it, he’s not Toga. You doubt Twice could have obtained all the measurements of a hero that’s not declared missing, so there’s no concern in your mind it’s a clone. Relief washes over you and you wonder why you were so jumpy in the first place.

It’s safe.

You’re safe.

Everything is okay.

“You mind letting me in? Just need to do a check around, make sure you’re actually alone and all,” he requests. You suppose that’s what Hawks has been doing when he hangs over. It makes sense, but it stings to know the social contact you had was all due to a protocol.

“Oh, right, sorry. Come on in,” you agree. You open the door and allow him to enter inside. He looks around your apartment, walking from the entryway down the hall until he stops at your living room. Your (tea kettle/coffee maker) sounds off from your kitchen. The suddenness startles you momentarily. You shut the door behind you and pad past him down the hall. “Sorry, I was in the middle of making (tea/coffee). Just one moment,” you excuse, awkwardly.

“No worries, take your time. I’ll be in the living room while you do that!” He cheerily dismisses. You offer him a polite nod before trotting off to your kitchen, pouring your drink into a mug and carrying it with you.

When you return to the living room, you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. Concerning, but not enough to make you panic. What does make you start sweating is seeing puddles of a gray, clay-like substance on the carpet. Your stomach instantly drops, and your mug slips out of your hands, further sullying the carpet. You remember that conversation between Toga and Muscular, how Toga’s quirk leaves behind pale silt.

FUCK.

Since when could Toga use other quirks?!

You’re about to bolt for the door to attempt to run away when you feel arms gripping your waist. You look down and see no other than Toga.

‘Holy shit, she’s gotten so much stronger,’ you think, the realization stirring up a panic in you. You try to wriggle out of her grasp, but she just doesn’t budge. She quickly snakes one arm to the collar of her shirt and speaks into it.

“Mission accomplished!” She announces, to whom, you’re not quite sure. You’re not left with time to think about it, as you feel an odd sensation rise up your throat. Black sludge pours out of your mouth, enveloping you entirely in darkness. The sensation is nothing short of gross and uncomfortable. You’re thankful it doesn’t last for long, but when your lungs finally clear of the substance, you realize you’ve been transported somewhere completely unfamiliar to you.

“Looks like Toga managed to pull it off after all,” you hear a familiar, smoky voice drawl. The recognition is instant. Your body freezes and your eyes trail over to the source. You lock eyes with none other than Dabi. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, y/n?”

Your mouth feels dry, but you speak anyway. “It has.”

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