#the rest of it was a torment i don't want to experience again

[adhd-merlin]

Vignette II: For Fun

Relationships: Gwen/Merlin/Arthur Tags: Polyamory, Established Relationship, Canon Era, Period Typical Attitudes, Questionable Use of Tenses Series: Call It Anything We Want Summary:

In which there is some fun experimenting. Set some time after Merlin's magic reveal.

Entirely plotless, so it can be read as a stand-alone.

“It’s just… odd,” Arthur says. Merlin lips twitch, as if to repress a smile. “You like odd.” “Well, apparently there’s a limit to how much odd I can take.”

READ ON AO3

[edgeray]

Hi child :]

What about arle cooking for reader?

I think she can’t cook it’s hilarious but I’d love to see what you come up with if you decide to write it<3

Onions Are Her Weakness

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi momma!!! I've been looking forward to this one, but I do my requests based on chronological order. Finally got to this one! Was waiting to write some crack :D Reader is gonna be gender neutral. I was so excited about writing about how arle can't cook, i forgot about the prompt and decided to have reader teach arle how to cook. hopefully this is okay  Content warnings / info - author attempts to be funny, author pretends that they know how to cook

Despite Arlecchino's best efforts, it had come to her beloved's attention that Arlecchino did not have much cooking experience. Like the loving partner that you are, you aim to correct that. After all, cooking is an essential life-skill that even children need to learn. How Arlecchino has yet to learn, you're not certain, but you suppose better now then never for Arlecchino. 

For your sanity, maybe never was better. 

Your husband is, archons bless her, talented in a number of fields. But archon, you will never allow her to set foot in the kitchen again.

It was clear that Arlecchino didn't just not have cooking experience, but she didn't have any experience, period. Neither did she have any cooking intuition, or the bare necessity, common sense. With how abysmal her skills are, you no longer find her fondness of raw meat all that surprising. 

For the day, you banned the kitchen from the rest of the House of the Hearth; it was reserved for you and Arlecchino only. 

You first started off with Fontainian Onion Soup. Easy enough, you naively thought. 

“Okay, Arlecchino. First step is to ‘peel and thinly slice onions from–” You begin reading out, but before you can finish the instructions, a flash of black and red flies past your sight and then a crisp, wet, crunch that makes you cringe. You glance up from the book and to your utter horror, a gruesome murder scene lies in front of you on the cutting board.

You couldn't fathom what the onions did to deserve such a fate. Instead of the thinly sliced peel you're supposed to see suggested by the book, there is the sick, disgusting scene of the maimed remains of the once fresh onions. It’s like the onions are crying for death after that assault. Arlecchino stands besides you, unaware of the atrocity she commited on your counter. The knife next to you remains untouched.

“Arlecchino,” you say, as composed as one can be, though you already feel like you're about to cry–and it's not because of the onions. “You're supposed to use the knife to cut.”

Arlecchino looks at her claws for a beat of silence. “Thank you for the clarification, my love.” 

She awkwardly picks up the knife, as if never having picked up a cooking tool before. Her entire fists grips around the handle, as if she continues to torture the already tormented onions. You set aside the mangled onions, and place the unharmed ones in front of her.

“Don't hold it like you're going to stab them,” you sigh, correcting her finger placement so that she was properly holding the knife. The poor onions had enough, you think to yourself. Your husband seems confused, but adjusts to the new position. 

You raise the book to her eye level, pointing at the picture. “Okay, it's supposed to look like this. Cut it like that, yeah?” 

Arlecchino nods, and attempts her best. Though not proportional, at least the cuts were straight. Improvement, right? The process is slow, her fingers keep returning to a stabbing position before you correct her again, reminding her that the onions do not feel pain. 

Finally, she has sliced the last one, as terrible looking as all the others, but you give her some slack. You glance up at her expression, wanting to see how she felt now that she had completed the first step of the recipe. 

Her face is wet. More specifically. She's crying.

“Arlecchino. You're crying.”

Arlecchino hastily wipes her eyes with her sleeves. “No, I am not.” 

“Yes, you are.”

“Crying is a display of weakness.”

“So onions are your weakness?”

You don't stop cackling for a good while, imagining how the Knave, the Fourth Fatui Harbinger, being defeated by cut onions. Maybe the next time Arlecchino decides to have a duel with her children, you'll inform them to bring some onions and chuck them at her. 

“You speak of this to no one.”

Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet would benefit from this information. No, even better, this can act as blackmail. Oh, you need to engrain this into your mind. “Of course.” 

You decide that you can't trust her enough to mince the garlic cloves. 

The next step was caramelizing the onions in the pan. 

“Arlecchino.”

“Yes?”

“What is the color of caramel?” 

“It is brown, why do you ask?” 

“Look at your onions, and tell me what color they are.”

Arlecchino looks down at the pan in her hand. She frowns. “They appear black.” 

“And why is that?”

“Perhaps they are cursed like I am.” 

“Arlecchino, no–”

You drag Arlecchino to the nearest market for more onions as a punishment for wasting your hard-earned money. Once you've returned, you impel her to cut and cook the onions again.

“Stir occasionally, okay? Don’t forget the oil and butter.” 

This time, the onions aren’t turned to ashes, and you think, maybe Arlecchino isn't so hopeless. The next few steps are just adding the rest of the ingredients for the soup, and you make sure that even she can't mess that up. Wine, then the stock and herbs, and you get something that vaguely reminds you of puke. 

Next comes the Fontainian bread. Nice crispy, cheesy bread is great with soap. This is the last step. Baking is easy. Just put things in the oven, and it'll be done.

“Take a pinch of the cheese and sprinkle it on the bread–no, Arlecchiono, that is not a pinch, that is a handful and a half. Put that back.” 

“But you like cheese.”

“I like my bread with cheese, not cheese with bread.” 

“They are the same thing.” 

“No, one is bread with cheese, and one is a mountain of cheese suffocating the bread as if it was demanding its money back. I like being able to taste bread.” 

Arlecchino pauses, likely confused by your comparison. “But you like cheese,” she repeats again, so sweet and so, oh confused. Archons, she's pouting. 

“Arlecchino. I don't need this much cheese,” you quietly confess. “Put it back.” 

“But–”

“Arlecchino, I love you, and I will always ask you to get me a fistful of shredded cheese when I want to. But it is not now. Put it back.” 

Sometimes, you wonder how this woman, this beautiful, sexy, hot woman of your husband was a Snezynayan diplomat. This is one of those times.

“Why do we have to wait for this long, when I can just use my vision?” 

“Because you will burn them, now can you please set down the tray so we don't char our bread. The bakeries are already closed, and burnt bread does not taste good.”

Arlecchino sighs and places down the cheesy breads, sparing them from their painful fate.

“I'm sure charred bread tastes acceptable. Charred meat has excellent flavor.”

That explains so many things and it makes you want to cry.  

After the bread is toasted, without the assistance of Arlecchino, you serve her the homemade soup and bread, the creation taking from noon to evening. Although you're starving, watching your husband’s eyes light up upon eating her creation makes all the hair pulling and teeth gritting moments worth it. In these moments, you forget that this hopeless, loving husband was anything but just that; not the Knave, not the Fourth Harbinger, just yours. You can forgive her for the slaughtered onions and the nearly burnt bread if it meant more domestic moments like these. 

In the middle of her meal, however, she stops and comments something.

“This would benefit from raw beef.”

You don't have the strength in you to deny her otherwise.  

[markantonys]

Top 5 Adar who FUCKS moments?

LMAO okay, just off the top of my head and in no particular order:

-the one that made us all collectively Lose Our Minds. i'm so glad i caught up with ROP just in time that this could be my first (maybe second) live episode and i could experience the mass Awakening™ that occurred because of this moment.

-he likes to be held at knifepoint by girlbosses but he ALSO likes to choke out twinks. he has the range.

-making halbrand put his head in the dirt at his feet to swear loyalty to him. he was fully suspecting halbrand was sauron at this point and STILL chose to humiliate him even further and piss him off even more AND be kinky about it in the process, just because he could.

-sitting atop his throne in the 1 moment of true contentment he got to have in between thousands of years of torment and then more shit immediately hitting the fan

-screencaps don't do this one near enough justice, but when he fiiiiiinally enters the battlefield in 2x07 and just TANKS through everyone there (and catches an arrow in midair). he 👏 fucks 👏

and honorable mentions to:

"[calmly puts out the flaming arrow galadriel shot at him with his hand] a star shines on the hour of our meeting, lady galadriel" like sir leave some rizz for the rest of us good god (in hindsight i think this was probably my Hot Adar Who Fucks awakening and my adariel shipping awakening, and then the knife-throat moment in the next episode just solidified it)

"why didn't you defeat sauron back then?" "because i hadn't yet met you" or whatever, once again, leave some rizz for the rest of us

channeling his inner mr. darcy by creating some period-drama-5-alarm-spice Hand Shots with galadriel

"you have the beauty of your foremother and if you've also inherited her wisdom then you'll know you can't defeat me in battle" just tell elrond you want him to be your pretty little sugar baby, it would be quicker

i will also add an s1 moment, when galadriel threatens to obliterate him and calls him an orc and puts a knife to his throat and he just looks at her and quietly corrects her "uruk" and almost smiles a little, homeboy was Ready to be on the receiving end of some knifeplay but alas sauron interrupted

[solargeist]

What are your opinions on kov grian

hmmmmmmm, hmmm....... So i haven't seen KOV in full, and don't plan to, but i have seen clips, even the infamous ones, so everything i say can be taken with a grain of salt.

My opinion on kov Grian... is............... he is devastating !!! of course !!!! I don't even know how this character even came into existence, like is sam, taurtis, or grian, fans of Berserk /s? bc KOV Grian is pretty inline for the ~Berserk Character Experience imo, i mean.. the... rat... ? hello..?

But... i also think.... He is genuinely the only well written/played character in that series. When awful things happen to him, it effects him for the rest of the series, Grian doesn't ever seemingly play it for laughs.

Starting out as a character that wanted to be helpful, to a character that kills innocent people out of his own anger and grief, is interesting. He won't allow anyone to ever hurt him again, he'll never let them get close. This, doesn't heal him, he doesn't feel better, but it does not matter. He's lost everything. Theres a sort of peace in that, but in the same way an empty house is, theres nothing, theres nothing.

It makes me sad no one takes him seriously, it wouldn't have saved the series, but i think handling serious subjects better could've helped it with its aging. The lack of seriousness also ruins the story imo, like why are you laughing and making jokes while your friend is tormented--multiple times, what story is this ? Bad writing. You can barely claim it as improve but thats still bad improve, or just friends having fun, but the series IS scripted, sam forgot to edit out multiple parts where they do retakes in puzzles, so it makes me wonder the thought process...

Also... His cubito is so cute. its a shame.

(I've mentioned kov Grian a few times in reference to my (saint) Xelqua lore, since Xelqua can basically meet any version of Grian he wants. He meets kov Grian, but only after the damage is done, so he gives him a new staff, new clothes, and follows along behind the scenes, watching.)

[rileythelonelyalien]

What? don't you recognise me?

A/N: soooo Caleb's trailer recently came out and it been living in my brain ever since I'm actully so excited to see how the story will unfold with Caleb coming back! I was feeling a little inspired by the trailer so I wrote this short little fic just to scratch that Caleb itch in my brain lol I hope you enjoy it! Whilst the reader is meant to be MC i have kept the gender as vague as possible to make sure that anyone can enjoy this fic!

TW/CW: stalker vibes, yandere?

word count: 655

fic is under the cut :)

“Ah… I see you’ve not changed much huh?” 

Words are mumbled as a looming figure stands in the shadows, always watching yet never reaching out. Not yet. The time to touch will come eventually… skills honed from various experiences that are far too much to spend any time ruminating on give him the best advantage of overseeing the activities of his most prized possession. Although she doesn't know that yet, in due time it all won’t matter anyway. What they don’t know won’t kill them after all, he wouldn't allow it to.

Hours would pass by like minutes, so enraptured he observed his obsession… an intense set of eyes fixating, analysing, admiring taking in their figure move freely within their apartment like they were the only thing that kept the world spinning. Distinct squeaks emanate from the leather enveloping his hands, fingers tightening the pendant gradually getting nestled deeply into the glove far enough to feel the pressure of it pushing against the skin of his palm painfully through the gloves. The delicate silver chain glinting within the moonlight, a memento of a time long gone, of a man he used to be… the man who would roll over and play nice at their every whim because he loves them so dearly. That man was long dead now, in fact maybe he didn’t even exist in the first place? This feeling of deep desire, the wanting, the need, the overwhelming all-consuming urge to possess… take… own. Always there simmering beneath, deep in his skin, beneath the flesh or what was left of it digging deeper into the very bones of his body. He was no longer the puppy dog left yearning and pining all for just a drop of attention, to have their gaze linger, to want the same way he wants so desperately.

Well, he's done waiting now, there was no reason to keep it dug beneath a smile and facade of tenderness. He knows what he wants and he won’t stop until he finally has what is rightfully his.

Slowly his hand still clenching the necklace in his palm unfurls exposing the pendant and the little charm teasing him, tormenting his mind with all sorts of delicious ideas for when he obtains his greatest possession. His uniform rustles quietly as he brings his hand up to his lips pressing them against the pendant lightly a shiver running down his spine just at all that his mind was conjuring up. Alas this momentary slip is quickly hardened once again as the distant sound of a door clicking open alerts his senses. 

You step outside of your apartment into the small balcony needing some fresh air as you take in the night air just collecting your thoughts on the most recent case you have been dealing with at the Hunters association. A gentle nightly breeze brushes over your skin cooling the surface as goosebumps become more prevalent over your skin. Time seems to pass so slowly in the night, it's so quiet and almost tranquil with the rest of the world seemingly asleep at this moment save for the glow of the stars above. Twinkling so softly in the distance they shine so bright despite how far away they are you lose yourself to your thoughts, ruminating over the past few days thoughts barely staying for a few moments before another takes its place. How has your life become so complex and convoluted? So many trials and tribulations that you have faced in what seems so little time when will it all come to a still? Will it ever be ‘normal’... things you can’t dwell on too long to fight off the inevitable spiral a mindset like that could lead too. Completely absorbed in your own world you would notice the sense that there are a pair of eyes not too far away staring at you.

“Oh, Pipsqueak… I wonder if you’ve missed me”

[tsaritza-mika]

The Companions and Separation Anxiety

So something occurred to me while working on a WIP. It mostly started with Astarion, but then drifted to consider the others you could romance as well. I was mostly thinking of Star at the time, and the others came from conversation

If you consider everything that happened, from the moment they met, Tav and Star have never really spent any time apart for maybe longer than a few hours at most. And yes, I'd considered even the times he's left at camp. Because even if he's left at camp, all of them have that underlying mission and the need to rely on their allies. For all the allies that you gather in the game, you still keep everyone outside of your little group at something of an arms length. The only ones that spend even a little bit of time at your camp in the same vein as the rest of your companions are Dame Aylin and Isobel (no I'm not counting Alfira, because in Durge runs she isn't likely to survive a single night XDD poor baby).

All of our time is spent with our companions from the moment we meet, and for the ones we romance, I don't think it'd be far fetched to think that after everything is said and done, the brain and all other enemies dealt with, our chosen romanced companion could very well have some measure of separation anxiety if Tav/Durge had need to leave their side for longer than a day or two.

Especially with Astarion I think he would be hit hardest in this, because before his adventure with everyone, he had no choice but to watch everyone he might have had even a flicker of feelings for being taken away and never return. Kudos where he deserves them, he did a LOT of growing during the journey, but old habits die hard too. So even if he's in a better place at the end, he could very well experience some measure of separation anxiety the first time they need to really be apart from each other. This could be even worse if playing a Durge, as it might be a bit more intense considering he's already experienced his partner dying in front of him and being completely helpless to do anything to stop it before Withers steps in.

With Durge, Astarion had spent 200 years praying to every god he knew for a savior from his torment, watching as everything, every piece of himself was taken away from him. Then, the first truly good thing to happen to him, the first person who acknowledged him as someone worthy of love and respect, was ripped away from him by a god. And once again, he couldn't do anything to stop it. Even with Withers bringing them back, I doubt he's going to be completely fine with Tav/Durge being too far away from him for a while.

I'd imagine Gale and Shadow might have similarly bad reactions, yet not quite to the level that Star may get. They would also have comparable ways of dealing with it I think, reassuring Tav/Durge that they're fine, and that they understand, but their mannerisms aren't as assured as they usually are, and their words may be more clipped and sharp. They just really don't want to think about it, and try their best to ignore it.

Lae'zel I think would just, do everything physical to try not thinking about it. She acts like she's not worried about them, when in reality she's secretly counting the seconds until they're home. She keeps it all inside, because realistically she knows they can handle themselves, but she's not the emotional type. I think she might try losing herself in training. Like she's just, working herself to near exhaustion, putting in every effort to not think about it.

Honestly I think the only ones who wouldn't really be hit by it would be Wyll and Karlach. Like, they'd still feel the worry, but they'd be the ones to handle it best. Wyll and Karlach have been used to being on their own for quite a while before the tadpole, and judging by their dialogue during the reunion, I would guess they may still worry, but it wouldn't truly bother them unless they got word that Tav/Durge was in some serious trouble.

Halsin would likely be the only one who would be a middle-ground in all this I think. He'd do everything he could with the kids and the village, but then if he finds himself with enough time to think about it, he'd probably just, I dunno, chop some wood and build a table or something XDDDD Tav/Durge would come home to find that he's got a whole new 12 person table with chairs and carved dining set and cutlery. He's also carved a mother and father duck gently touching beaks as a centerpiece, and all the other carved ducklings have the names of everyone he knows carefully carved into them and placed in front of each seat. He's also been talking to them. People have been worried about him, but they didn't want to say anything XDDDD

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 22) - 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)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Chapter 22

“How is he?” Spinner pounces on you the second the warp sludge quits pouring from your mouth. “You were gone for two weeks this time. What happened?”

“Stop shaking me.” You have a headache, and you’re in a mood. “I’ll explain in a second. I –”

“Saintess!” Toga hugs you tightly from one side, then recoils. “Ew. You smell like –”

“Formaldehyde,” Re-Destro says. You’re never texting anyone to let them know when you’re coming back again. Next time the doctor can drop you off in a tree for all you care, and you’ll only come down when you feel like it. “You were assisting the doctor with his work?”

You didn’t want to be, but you were. “I was dissecting a quirk factor to try to recreate the bullets we took from Overhaul. The doctor has to keep them preserved somehow.”

Talking about the quirk-canceling bullets always makes Re-Destro uncomfortable. Or maybe it’s the formaldehyde. Either way, he backs off, and you shake Spinner off in the bargain. “I’m going to clean up so the rest of you don’t asphyxiate, and then I’ll give the update.”

“Did anything happen?”

You ignore Spinner and head for the showers. You smell awful and you haven’t slept in three nights and it’s been longer than that since you had a change of clothes. He and everybody else can wait.

Whenever Tomura’s in stasis, the doctor sends you back to the PLF’s headquarters to provide a report, and probably to keep you out of the way. You don’t know what the doctor does when you’re not there, but you know he won’t do anything to Tomura when you’re not present – he likes the effect of your quirk too much, and he doesn’t want to lose access by tormenting Tomura when you’re too far away to avoid the cost. The doctor probably spends the time working on the Nomus. He’s been cagey about how the process works, but you’ve picked up some things, and he’s been hinting that he’ll let you design one once you’ve figured out how to dissect quirk factors on your own. You’re almost there, and almost ready to begin testing the quirk-canceling bullets.

You’ve decided it’s in your best interest not to let anybody know how many there are, or who has them. As far as the doctor knows, the only hero with the ability to directly affect others’ quirks is Eraserhead, and that’s not permanent. Overhaul’s experiments weren’t widely revealed to the public, which means there’s a chance that most heroes don’t know about the bullets. Which means that the person who has the bullets can catch them completely by surprise.

Some part of you likes that idea. Some part of you wants to see how everybody else copes once they’re pulled down to your level. And some part of you has a bad feeling that you’ll need the bullets for more than just heroes. You’ll test them, make sure they work, and make as many as possible, so that instead of just healing Tenko when he’s hurt, you’ll be able to stop him from being hurt in the first place. You’ve never been able to protect him like that before. You’re kind of looking forward to it.

The bathroom door opens, and you speak up without looking. “Whoever that is, get out of here.”

“I’m not looking.” That’s Spinner’s voice, and you’re temporarily stunned into silence. “You need your costume. Dabi’s friend is sniffing around and he’s been asking lots of questions about you. I’m gonna leave it on the floor.”

“And then you’re going to get out.”

“Yeah,” Spinner says, but we need to talk. “We have to –”

“Leave.” You switch off the water, and Spinner books it. He might come into the bathroom while you’re showering, but the idea of sneaking a look at his best friend’s naked girlfriend is apparently out of his comfort zone. As soon as he’s gone, you switch the water back on.

It was – well, not easy to forgive Compress and Twice for voting that Tomura should go through with it, but it’s not like you expected better. You didn’t expect better from Dabi, either, although you haven’t ruled out shooting him with a quirk-canceling bullet if he threatens to kill you again. But you expected a hell of a lot better from Spinner, and you haven’t forgiven him for sending Tomura off to the torture chamber. You’re not planning on forgiving him, either. They might call you Saintess, but you aren’t one, and the sooner the rest of them get used to that, the better.

Spinner brought you your costume, but unsurprisingly neglected to bring things like underwear and socks, so you exit the bathroom in a towel, to the tune of Spinner bolting for cover. You lose patience. “I told you to leave.”

“You’re avoiding me, and we need to talk.” Spinner’s crouched behind Tomura’s bed, the one you theoretically sleep in when you’re here, well-hidden from whatever glimpses of you he might get. “Our win condition is still the same.”

“No, it isn’t. I care about what happens to him between now and then, and you don’t,” you snap. “You’re fine with him being the doctor’s new favorite test subject to get power he doesn’t need –”

“He does if he wants to win! It has to be decisive and it has to be fast,” Spinner says. “That’s not me talking. Or him. That’s something you said. He told me.”

You remember that conversation, but you didn’t expect it to stick with Tomura. You definitely didn’t expect him to repeat it to Spinner. “We may have signed off on it,” Spinner continues, “but he’s working off ideas he got from you. Every idea of his that isn’t “destroy everything forever” is backed up by some conversation he’s had with you. Nobody else has that kind of pull with him. Except All For One.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You’ve always assumed that whatever influence you might have over Tomura is dwarfed by the fifteen years of influence from All For One. Then again, the world had fifteen years to try to rip your allegiance to Tenko away from you, and it didn’t stick – and there are more than a few pieces of who Tenko is that made it through. From his hiding spot behind the bed, Spinner takes a deep breath, then lets it go. “I want to know how you did it.”

“What?”

“The others think you did it just by being a girl and – you know.” Spinner sounds like he’s cringing. “But that’s not it. Toga knows something. She wouldn’t say when I asked, but there’s something, so I want to know what it is. I want to know why he listens to you the same way he listens to All For One.”

“You don’t sound like you want to know.” The way his voice sounds, it’s like he’s asking someone to peel off his scales one at a time. “Leave it alone.”

“The medics from the helicopter said you called him something else,” Spinner says, and you freeze in the act of wringing out your hair. “You called him the same thing All For One did when he was unloading on All Might. How long have you known him?”

What did you say the first time Spinner asked you that? “Less than forever, longer than a year.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” Spinner peeks up and over the edge of the bed, confirms you’re dressed, and stands up. “How long?”

You don’t have a good way to answer this. You don’t want to explain. You unclasp your locket from around your neck – you never take it off, not even to shower – and toss it to him, looking away as he pries it open. Unlike Toga and Manami, Spinner knows who he’s looking at instantly. “No,” he says at once. “That’s not – what?”

Toga was fascinated, Manami was shocked. Spinner sounds horrified. You want to say more, maybe to twist the knife and make him pay for asking, but you remember all at once that Skeptic has cameras and listening devices everywhere. Tomura ordered them taken out of his rooms, and you and Compress scanned everything a second time to make sure, but you wouldn’t put it past Skeptic to have reinstalled them. “Come on. If we’re talking about this, we’re talking outside.”

It's cold outside. Your hair is wet and you’re shivering, and Spinner’s shivering even worse than you are. As if you needed any more incentive to keep this conversation short. “What do you want to know?”

“How?” Spinner says at once. He’s still holding the locket, but he’s holding it with the same trepidation as you’d hold a live eel. “How did he go from that to – this?”

He’s gesturing around, encompassing everything – the MLA compound in the mountains, himself, you and your costume, asking how the kid in the picture turned into Shigaraki Tomura, Symbol of Fear, Grand Commander of the Paranormal Liberation Front and heir to All For One. “His quirk awakened,” you say. Spinner gives you a weird look. “Think about it.”

“I am thinking about it. Why would that –” Spinner breaks off suddenly. “Shit. That would – that could be bad. Really bad.”

“All For One took him away after that. I didn’t see him again for fifteen years.”

“So you knew him before.”

“He was my best friend,” you say, but he was more than that, even when you were children. You’d have done anything for him, just like you’d do anything now. “When I found him again, he was like this. He didn’t recognize me at first. I don’t think All For One wanted him to remember that he was anybody before this.”

“Well, yeah,” Spinner says, like it’s obvious. Maybe it is to him. “Wait, why’d he let you stick around, then? If you knew Shigaraki before –”

“We hid it,” you say. “From Kurogiri. From everyone.”

“Except Toga?”

Spinner actually sounds hurt. “She found out by accident,” you say. “The doctor guessed when he looked into my family, and my quirk. My friends from before know, and my cousin. And now you.”

Seven people. Seven people other than you know that Shimura Tenko existed, that some part of him still exists, part and parcel of Shigaraki Tomura. You might be the only one who knew him personally, but it’s a relief to know that if something happens to you, your death won’t be the end of your best friend.

That still doesn’t mean you forgive Spinner. “What else do you want to know?”

“Like – why?” Spinner realizes that you’re staring at him and elaborates. “You guys are my age, right? Twenty?”

“I’ll be twenty-one soon.”

“But you were twenty when you met him again,” Spinner says. You nod. “And you hadn’t seen him for fifteen years. And – sorry, but you aren’t like the rest of us. You don’t have a scary quirk like Toga does and you weren’t a shut-in like me. You had friends and a real job and your own apartment, and ordering pizza for all of us didn’t max your credit card. Why would you chuck all that for somebody you knew when you were five?”

The scathing sound exits your mouth before you can stop it. “Why would you throw any chance of a normal life away because you saw a video about Stain?”

“Hey,” Spinner snaps. “That was different. I was grown up –”

“So was I,” you say. “And I actually knew the person I was throwing it away for.”

“You don’t understand what it meant,” Spinner says. He’s glaring at you. You glare right back, even though he can’t see your expression under your veil. “It all made sense when I learned about Stain. Everything that had happened to me – you were just a kid. What did you know?”

“I knew I mattered.” You never talk about your family with the League of Villains. Why would you, when everyone else has a backstory more tragic than yours, when the only person who needs to know already knows everything? “At home – my first memory is my mom telling me to watch my brother. Then my brother and my sister. Then my brother and my sister and the twins. All that mattered about me was what I could do for them, and I was four. The only person who ever saw just me was him.”

The last day you and Tenko had together is crystal clear in your head. The first day is fuzzy, blurred by time. You were at school, you think. A pre-primary school program your pediatrician recommended, probably so you could go somewhere and be a kid for a few hours a day. Your pediatrician had your parents’ number for sure. No, it wasn’t at school. You were on the way to school – no, you were trying to get out the door, and you made it all the way to the sidewalk before you realized that your mom wasn’t with you.

You remember looking back at her, puzzled. “Mama?”

“We’re going to be late. I have to load up the stroller and the wagon –” Your mother said that, but she wasn’t doing it. A pit of dread yawned open in your stomach. “This neighborhood is safe. It’s not very far. You remember where we went to register?”

“No!” You tried not to panic. You could see her thinking about it, making the decision. “I don’t know where it is. Mama –”

“You’re a big girl. I know you can take care of this,” your mother said. She was smiling, but it was more relieved than proud. Relieved she wouldn’t have to deal with you. Relieved she could focus on something more important. “Hurry. You’ll be late.”

For the first time you can remember, you refused. “I can’t go alone,” you said, and your eyes welled up even as your mother rolled hers. “I don’t know where it is. I don’t want to get lost. Please – can’t you just leave them –”

“Leave my babies? Are you out of your mind?”

Weren’t you her baby too? “It wouldn’t be long. You said it wasn’t that far, so can’t you just –”

You couldn’t talk after that. You were crying too hard, and your mother rolled her eyes again, told you to stop acting like a baby when you were almost five, and you wanted to tell her that you’d only just had your birthday and you weren’t almost anything at all. She shut the door, and you sat down on the sidewalk, sobbing into your hands. You didn’t know where you were supposed to go and she wouldn’t let you back in. She always came running when the twins cried, so why wouldn’t she come for you? You knew how silly you looked, but you couldn’t stop crying. You couldn’t go to school like this. No matter what you thought to do, it was always wrong.

“Are you okay?”

You looked up at the sound of the voice, blinking back tears, and found a dark-haired boy your age staring down at you. He looked sort of familiar, and as you snuffled and tried to wipe your nose, you realized that he lived across the street. You’d seen him before, with his mom and his sister and his dog, but you’d never met. He was looking down at you, eyes wide. “Are you okay?” he asked again. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t know how to answer, and a moment later, you heard running footsteps. You hoped it was your mom, but it wasn’t. “Tenko!” the woman called out, panicked. “Tenko, don’t scare me like that again. How many times have I told you –”

“She’s sad.” Tenko pointed at you. “We have to help.”

“Um, all right.” The woman studied you, puzzled, while Tenko crouched down at your side. “Did you fall down?”

You shook your head. “Is that your house?” Tenko’s mom asked, pointing at your front door, and you nodded. “All right. Tenko, stay here. I’m going to –”

The front door opened before the woman could knock, and you heard your mother’s voice, already frustrated – but Tenko was right in front of you now, taking up all your vision. “What’s your name?” he asked, and you managed to mumble it. “I’m Tenko. I live over there. You have a backpack. Are you going to school?”

You nodded. “I have one. I’m going, too,” Tenko said proudly. “My sister said school is fun. Why are you sad?”

You didn’t answer, but your mom did it for you, in response to Tenko’s mom asking the same question. “She’s throwing a fit because she doesn’t want to walk to school alone.”

“She’s four,” Tenko’s mom said, shocked, and somehow that made you feel better. She was right, and that meant you were right. You were right, and your mom was wrong. “I’ve seen you with your children. You have a lot on your mind, and my son and I are headed there already. If you’d like, she can walk with us.”

Looking back, you can see where you started to learn to de-escalate tense moments – Tenko’s mom, backing down her initial reaction, showing that she understood your mom’s position, offering to help in a way that wouldn’t make your mom madder than she already was. It worked. “If you’re headed there already,” your mom said doubtfully. Then one of the twins wailed from inside the house, and she made up her mind. “Thank you. I apologize for her. She’s not usually so dramatic.”

“It’s no trouble,” Tenko’s mom said smoothly. She turned to go, and Tenko held out his hand to help you to your feet. You took it, and even once you were standing, he didn’t let go. His hand was warm and sort of sweaty. “Tenko, help your friend up – oh, you did that already.”

Friend. You were Tenko’s friend? “We can walk now,” Tenko told his mom. She took his other hand, and the three of you crossed the street together, then turned the corner. When Tenko spoke up again, he was talking to you. “You can walk with us every morning if you want.”

“I don’t have to,” you mumbled. “My mom is right. I should do it myself.”

“No,” Tenko’s mom said firmly. She was smiling, but her eyes were hard. “Four is a little young. You’ll walk with us.”

“I want you to,” Tenko said. He swung your clasped hands back and forth between the two of you, practically skipping. “Hana said I’d make friends and you’re my first one!”

Being Tenko’s friend sounded like the best thing in the world to you. “You’re my first friend, too.”

You were his first friend, and he was yours. He and his mom were waiting for you on the sidewalk the next morning, all ready to walk with you to school.

You never understood why he did that, why he pulled away from his mom and ran across the street to help a crying girl he’d never met. You just accepted that it was part of who he was, just one more reason why he’d be the best hero the world had ever seen – and you still see that in him, in the way he avenged Magne and comforted Twice and took out the CRC for Spinner and promised Toga he wouldn’t destroy the things she likes and stole Re-Destro’s money so the League can have all the expensive food they want. You see it in the new world he’s promised to all of you, in his promise to live in it with you.

You know who Tenko is. You’ve always known, and it’s that knowledge that keeps your head up, holding Spinner’s gaze. “I don’t you or anyone else to understand why I’m with him. But I’m loyal to him. Not All For One’s visions or his plans or what anyone else wants for him. Just him. Do you understand?”

“I get it,” Spinner says. “You’re against whatever could hurt him even if it’s part of the plan.”

“Yes,” you say. “And you’ll let him get hurt if it means the plan succeeds.”

“I don’t want –” Spinner breaks off, frustrated. “Look, I know something fucked-up is going on over there. You look like hell every time you come back, and you wouldn’t be so mad at me still if it wasn’t as bad or worse than you said it was going to be. But if it’s your job to be loyal to him, it’s my job to be loyal to his vision and make his dream a reality. And neither of us want him to die.”

It sort of makes sense when he puts it like that. Or maybe you just haven’t slept in a while. “So?”

“So we shouldn’t fight,” Spinner says. He holds the locket out to you, and you take it back, fastening it around your neck and tucking it out of sight. “We should work together.”

Before you can say anything else, like asking Spinner just what he thinks the two of you should work together on, a voice rings out from somewhere behind you. “Hey, what are you two doing out here? It’s freezing!”

Spinner doesn’t jump, but your startle response never bounced back, and your heart rate spikes so fast you almost faint. “Nice to see you, Spinner,” Hawks says, stepping out of the light cast by the windows of the villa and into the shadows where you and Spinner stand. “And you – you must be the Saintess I’ve heard so much about.”

Dabi’s friend. It must be. The Number Two hero is smiling at you, hand outstretched to shake, and you shake in response, wondering how the hell Dabi could have gotten snowed so badly. Kazuo warned you about a spy in the PLF. You’re pretty sure you’re looking at him.

“You’re a hard girl to track down,” Hawks continues, once you’ve both let go. “Seems like everybody knows you, but nobody knows where you are. The Grand Commander must keep you really busy.”

“We’re all busy,” Spinner says. “Shigaraki’s vision won’t come true on its own.”

Spinner doesn’t trust him, either. You can tell by his tone of voice. Hawks laughs, bright and easy. “Of course not! But let’s be honest here – you two work at it way harder than the rest of the League, don’t you? To hear Re-Destro tell it, you two are the true believers. I could learn a lot from you.”

Sure he could. So he could hand it all to the heroes and fuck the two of you over. How the hell did Dabi fall for this? “Based on your last report, you’re doing pretty well on your own,” Spinner says. “All those books on Liberation ideology aren’t selling themselves.”

“I mean, they could,” Hawks says. “You’ve read them. You know. The only people who’d protest the ideology are the quirkless, and they’re a dying breed anyway.”

Is he trying to trick you into outing yourself? It wouldn’t be the worst move – if you overreact to a slight against the quirkless, it’ll drastically narrow the range of possibilities for your true identity. You shrug. “There aren’t many ideologies that can appeal to eighty-plus percent of the population. Maybe you’re right – the books don’t need you passing them around.”

Hawks laughs at that. “I’ll have to find some other way to be useful, then. I’ve got all kinds of insider info from the HPSC. They don’t suspect a thing.”

Of course they don’t – he’s spying for them. Someone calls for Hawks from inside and he grins. “Gotta blast. Good to finally meet you, Saintess. We’ll have to chat later.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Once he’s gone, you turn to Spinner. “Okay, so he’s –”

“Shh.” Spinner shakes his head. “Feather check.”

Hawks’s feathers? You scan Spinner, looking for any flecks of red, while he does the same to you. You’re both clear, but Spinner doesn’t look relieved. “He could have left other ones,” he says. “Let’s go.”

You follow him further out from the villa, teeth chattering. Spinner’s teeth are chattering, too, and the two of you stand close together, trying to conserve heat. You speak up first. “So Hawks is the spy, right?”

“You think so, too. I knew it wasn’t just me.” Spinner looks relieved. “It’s him for sure.”

“Is Dabi insane? Does he really think the Number Two hero would just –”

“I don’t know how much thinking he’s doing,” Spinner says. He grimaces. “There’s something weird going on with them. I went to wake Dabi up one time when he slept through a strategy meeting, and Hawks was in there, too.”

“Oh.” You need a second to process that. “I thought we were supposed to be making the heroes unfuckable, not fucking them ourselves.”

Spinner snorts, but he sobers up fast. “Nobody else is suspicious. Re-Destro loves that he’s here – the Number Two hero is on our team. Twice gets along with him. Compress and Toga are Compress and Toga. And Dabi –”

“Don’t say it. I don’t want to picture it.”

“I don’t know for sure that they’re – that. All I know is, they’re too close for how suspicious Hawks is.” Spinner looks worried. “He already knows way too much. How many of us there are. Where the other major cells are. Who the lieutenants are. Stuff everybody in the PLF knows, but that’s too much. The heroes could fuck us up on that alone.”

They could. Kazuo couldn’t ask questions that broad without giving himself a seizure, but Hawks can gather the details in-person. And if you and Spinner are the only ones who suspect him – “Is there anything he doesn’t know?”

“Yeah. Feather check.” Spinner turns in a slow circle so you can check him, and you do the same a moment later. “Your costume’s great for this. It would be easy to spot one.”

“It’s about the only thing my costume is good for.” You’ve had more than one thought about how terrible it would be to get your period unexpectedly in this outfit. “What doesn’t he know?”

“He doesn’t know where Shigaraki is. He knows Shigaraki is getting new quirks, but he doesn’t know which ones,” Spinner says. You breathe a sigh of relief. “He doesn’t know when the war’s going to start, but that’s because we don’t yet. He doesn’t know that Toga’s quirk leveled up. And he doesn’t know about you.”

“What do you mean, about me?”

“You run around in white like a ghost. Most of the PLF has never seen your face. They know you have a quirk, but next to nobody knows what it is,” Spinner says. “The one decent thing Re-Destro’s done is lock that info down. They don’t know your real name like they know some of ours. Your code name is really weird for a villain –”

“You gave it to me!”

“And you’re closer to Shigaraki than anybody else,” Spinner continues. “You’re important. No shit he wants to know about you, and he can’t find out. If he knows you’re propping up Shigaraki’s healing factor, he’ll take you down.”

“Heroes don’t kill people.”

“Heroes don’t spy, either,” Spinner points out. “This guy is bad news. I’ve been laying false trails so he doesn’t find out where Shigaraki is. You can help with that. If you act like you’re coming from different places every time, it’ll confuse him. And the formaldehyde thing has to stop. All the hospital smells have to.”

You know there are locker rooms at the hospital for the residents. You can shower off before you leave. “And you have to make sure there aren’t any feathers on you, anywhere. Every time,” Spinner says. “Or he’ll find out where Shigaraki is, and then –”

“I know.” You haven’t felt anything but anxious in months, but your stomach is clenched in a tighter knot than usual. “Does he know about the bullets?”

“The deleter rounds? I don’t think so.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” You’ve never thought about what would happen to a heteromorph if you hit them with something that targets their quirk factor. Hawks would be the perfect person to try it on.

It’s quiet for a second. “Sorry about the code name,” Spinner says. “It was just for us. I didn’t know it was gonna stick.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “Based on some of the code names in the PLF, it could have been a lot worse.”

Spinner nods, and it’s quiet for another few moments. “We’ve got work to do together. Truce?”

“Yeah. Truce.” You don’t have to forgive Spinner, but the two of you are still allies, still in agreement on the most important thing: The new world Tomura will make possible won’t matter if Tomura isn’t in it. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s get back inside.”

The two of you set off. It’s starting to snow, fat flakes falling lazily from the sky. “How is he?” Spinner asks you. “Shigaraki, I mean.”

“We’re about halfway through. The doctor’s happy with how it’s going.”

“What about you?”

Your mind echoes with the alarms that clang as Tomura’s heart rate plummets, with the sounds of his screams, or worse, the sound of him begging for it to stop. Worse than all of that is the silence, when he’s lost consciousness or fallen into a seizure or his vocal cords have ruptured completely. “I’ll be happy when it’s over.”

<- Chapter 21

[pekoeboo]

through the veil

Rating: T Word Count: 570 Warning Tags: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Supernatural Elements, Immortality, Whump

Summary: A small snippet based on Khalan's first confrontation with his own immortality and the moment he arrived in Atria. During this harrowing experience, he has a brief encounter with a mysterious being that resides within the boundary between life and death.

((Story fragment from Act I of Home Is Where You Are, a collaborative story that I'm working on alongside @cookieg122.))

Note: Big thanks to @baskervilleshound for proofreading this and helping me edit! Even though it's short, I really appreciated her suggestions and it helped to make this small piece a bit more impactful, imo <3

also on AO3 and deviantart if you want to support my work there, as well.

-----

A voice. Long, slender fingers. Sad eyes. A shimmering veil.

Khalan felt like he was dreaming, and yet, at the same time, fully awake. His body ached and burned, remnants of a scream still caught in his throat. But he couldn't make a noise. He couldn't move.

He was floating, the world around him swirling about in a blinding mess of vivid, iridescent hues. Was this limbo? Had he finally succumbed to death after the torment he just subjected himself to? It was hard to tell. All he knew was that he struggled to maintain a grip on reality itself as he drifted through this strange, otherworldly realm.

But he wasn't alone.

An impossibly tall, winged woman stood beside him. Though her expression was soft, he could feel her eyes piercing into his very soul – even from behind the veil that covered her from head to toe. She spoke again, her voice just as delicate as her touch. The words that left her mouth were in a language Khalan had never heard before, yet somehow they formed within his mind in perfect clarity.

"You shouldn't be awake." Her whisper-like voice was melancholic. Sympathetic. A subtle undertone of confusion rippled beneath each word that Khalan couldn't help but pick up on. "You weren't supposed to see me."

A hand reached out, cupping his face in a gesture of comfort. He tried to say something in reply, to ask her what was happening and where he was, but all he could manage was a terrified whimper. Everything still hurt. It was hard to breathe.

"You'll be alright," she assured him. He quickly noticed that her voice began to fade, as did the rest of her image. That comforting hand drew away from his face. Darkness overtook the blinding light and engulfed him entirely.

"Don't worry. You'll wake again soon."

Those distant words echoed in Khalan's ears for only a moment. Despite his panic, a horrible sensation of heaviness pressed on his body as exhaustion set in. Each nerve and ligament ached with a pain he had never experienced before, yet he was too tired to react.

For a moment, everything went black. His body turned cold.

And then, with a sudden start, he opened his eyes.

The world around him was dark and uninviting. Nothing but stone met his gaze, and he felt himself lying on a hard, flat slab of solid rock. The room was freezing cold and damp with the smell of deep earth.

Khalan pushed himself up, eyes wide, heart racing, gasping for any ounce of air that he could pull in. Each quick, deep breath he drew in wasn't nearly enough to fill his burning lungs and shake the resulting bout of dizziness that had taken hold. The smoky stench of soot and burnt flesh that emanated from his tattered robes certainly didn't help, either.

There was no mistaking where he was. The slab he had been lying on was the only proof he needed.

He had woken up in a tomb. That terrifying revelation already made him sick to his stomach, but muffled noise from beyond the wall was quick to grab his attention and send another shock of panic through his heart.

Someone else was in here with him, he realized. Someone who was just as scared and overwhelmed as he was.

And that someone sounded like a child, sobbing from behind the wall of stone.

[xmissrogersx]

The Way I Loved You | Joel Miller

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

priscila masterlist

-So that's what teenage girls did, they only cared about how pretty they looked to like the boys. That's rubbish —Ellie exclaimed in the back seat.-Please tell me you weren't like that, Payton.

-Ellie, I was only 6 years old when the pandemic started —I replied with a rarched eyebrow.

-I don't know, all my life my home was FEDRA. I don't know how normal children acted.

I layed under my breath to turn to my left and see Joel focused on the road. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

Over the past few years I met guys who only caused me repulsion and disappointments. Not because the end of the world had arrived meant that the stupidity of the male gender ceased to exist.

Parties, drugs and easy sex were the menu of the night. I always thought that maybe there would be a flaw in me. A year ago, at Boston QZ, I met a young man named Tim.

Cataloging him as a prince in shining armor would be too old, but I think my mother would call him that way to define him.

We went out for 6 months. We worked in the same area, went for a walk and talked about our tastes.

The time we spent together was pleasant. We enjoyed our afternoon walks, and arrived in time to listen to the distribution of tasks to the population.

He smiled together with his blue eyes, to which I corresponded. Or that's what he wanted me to believe. ¿Why couldn't I love him and look at him the same way he did? ¿Could it be that the love I want to give to Tim I can't experience it?

I sighed frustrated and looked up to my right, to suddenly run out of breath.

There he was again. Tall, brown hair that together with gray nuances, slightly tanned skin due to outdoor work. His look hard and with marks on the side of his brown orbs. Losing myself in them was the longing I had every night when I went to sleep.

He looked like a fucking god with his big arms crossed over his chest.

His face most of the time was rough to push people away, wanting to show that he was not the kind of person to mess with. Joel was not easy to intimidate. But I knew that deep down there was only one wounded man with a past that torments him to this day.

-Hey, are you okay? —I took his voice out of my memory, bringing me back to the present.

-Yes...of course -I vocalized as best I could. He nodded not very convinced. My totally red face must have already been betraying me.

We continued the trip without further talk until it began to get dark. Joel went into the forest so we could rest until the next morning.

I arranged some sleeping bags that we had gotten from Bill's house. Ellie approached shitering a little due to the cold that was beginning to feel in the place. I picked up a blanket and put it on his shoulders.

-Thank you, shit, I feel like I'm going to freeze.

-¿Why don't you try to get some sleep? —I pointed to the improvised bed. She nodded and lay down.

-I can take the first guard —Joel exclaimed, to which I sighed.

-You drove all the way, you have to rest. I can watch about 5 hours at least.

-You have to sleep too —he approached me slightly, to which I held my breath again.

-Joel, please, I can be perfectly awake. Now lie down and get some sleep —I finished to get away from him. He decided to take my advice and lay down next to the chestnut.

I decided to walk away for a moment towards the lake that was meters from us.

I took a seat on a small log and began to write in my little notebook. A small form of escape that made me get out of the reality in which we found ourselves.

-Are you writing again?

-Fuck, you scared me —I turned to the direction of his voice.-¿And wouldn't you have to be sleeping?

He didn't answer my question.

-¿Didn't he get angry? -he suddenly exclaimed, to which I frowned.-The guy who was with you.

-Tim? Why would he be angry with me?

-You decide to go and cross the country to take a girl with me...-he didn't finish the sentence.

-Joel, I felt I had to do it, the decisions I made with my life are only mine.

-I doubt your boyfriend thinks the same.

-He's not my boyfriend. I couldn't reciprocate. I just didn't want it that way.

-I thought it was, because of the way I looked at you.

I advanced towards him, somewhat afraid that he would retreat, but she remained static.

-I could never see him that way, not Tim... I... I'm sure of what you're going to tell me if I let the words come out.

Take a breath of air, and look towards the floor.

-I couldn't see it that way... God, he's not you.

And in the blink of an eye, he cradle my cheeks and put our lips together, silencing myself.

-So perfect for this destroyed world, just like me.

-Don't say that —I spread small kisses on his chin, forehead and cheekbones.-You're a great man, Joel.-No one imagined everything that was going to happen. But here we are, we survive day by day, together.

-25 years of difference between us. You're young, you must look for someone...

-Don't come to me with that stupidity, Miller. I don't care. Whatever people say or think, they just talk more about them. At least... you don't...?

-Shit, Payton. I love you from the moment I saw you in the task distribution row. But I'm complicated, sometimes I don't know how to express myself...

I just nodded with a small smile while he spoke, to which he noticed and frowned.

-I know, but I love you that way. My sexy grumpy old man. I'm not perfect either.

-You are the kindest and sweetest person I know, darlin’ -I smiled at the nickname.-I want to wake up next to you and see your beautiful face. I long for you to be mine.

-I already am, Joel —I exclaimed, clinging to him.-I just want to be with you and Ellie. And I know you want it too.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Question about p! Noah..

How would he hypothetically react to being stabbed. (Accidentally) Like not a deadly stab wound but one big enough for it to be considered concerning.

How would the rest of the cast react?

Ok so what I'm asking is how committed is p! Noah to the bit? How for would he go in such a serious situation. Maybe he didn't care at all and walked around bleeding? Maybe he was only thinking of ways to torment the others using this to his advantage. Idk.

Also love this au sm!!

"Hypothetically", just say you want to stab him. This is a safe space, I'm not judging. ...Okay I'm judging a little bit.

I actually have a few thoughts about reactions to stabbings, as someone who's been involved in more than my fair share of them, and generally I think a lot of people don't tend to understand just how much it fucking hurts to be stabbed, even when it's non-fatal. It is a very painful experience, even with the added anaesthetic of adrenaline, and seeing just how often media portrays people walking off stab wounds or regarding them as little more than scratches is just. Infuriating.

Now, I personally headcanon Noah as someone with a fairly high pain tolerance. This is backed by a lot of the bone-crushing and otherwise painful experiences he suffers through in the show and is generally able to shrug off without complaint (and really, Noah would realistically have so much chronic pain after World Tour in particular, given how much he's crushed, tossed and thrown about in that season alone). But that doesn't mean I think he can just brute-force his way through acting unconcerned by a literal stab wound.

Even p!Noah wouldn't have that unwavering of a constitution, and he's crazy. Though I do think he'd make a good effort of maintaining his persona as the unflappable unstable wildcard, he'd be quick to abscond from the situation at hand and treat the wound. Again, that shit hurts, and it's really hard to keep up any pretences under the pain of a stab wound, so getting himself out of the situation as fast as possible would be his top priority- the less time he spends around the others in his vulnerable state, the slimmer the chances are of them seeing behind his mask of mania to the scared person hidden behind it.

Because his detachment from reality is the vast majority of his defence mechanism game plan; if Noah allows himself to be seen as anything but the psychopath he's portrayed himself as- either by the audience or the now aware cast- he's lost practically everything he's spent seasons building up on camera. Letting himself be seen as vulnerable or even affected by something as "inconsequential" as a stab would is a no-go, so he'd stutter out a few witty zingers and bounce.

(Which is an incredibly unhealthy mindset to have, but p!Noah isn't exactly mentally sound even without his exaggerated persona. His commitment to The Bit is strong enough for him to momentarily disregard his physical wellbeing, but not enough to grant him the ability to completely ignore it.)

It'd play out something like this:

---

Noah's eyes momentarily widened in shock as he felt the cold steel of Duncan's knife embed itself into the meat of his upper thigh. The pain was searingly sharp, molten agony burning like lava in his veins, and the bookworm found himself reflexively stumbling backwards from the punk.

"Did you just stab me?" He asked incredulously, sparing a glance down towards the weapon sticking out of his now ruined cargo shorts. The sight was almost comedic; Noah's oversized shorts rested against the hilt of the knife like cushions, completely blanketing the wound beneath them. He was almost amused enough to laugh, but the constant screaming of his nerves had his laughter congealing against the back of his throat with the rest of his saliva, leaving his mouth uncomfortably dry.

Duncan, in turn, seemed just as shocked by the turn of events. The delinquent's terrified blue eyes darted from Noah's face to the knife jutting out of his thigh. Which prompted the cynic to contort his grimace into a toothy grin, as any sign of weakness here would completely ruin his carefully cultivated image, though the edges of his smile were soured by the constant throbbing pain in his leg.

Truly, it was Noah's own fault. He shouldn't've provoked the stab-happy jailbird, but messing with Duncan was just too fun an opportunity to pass up.

"Oh fuck! Oh shit, dude, I'm so sorry!"

And he really was. Noah could tell by the shaky panic in his voice, the bulging of his ice-blue eyes, and the way Duncan seemed to curl self-consciously into himself. Not that the pessimist thought he had any right to act to timid- he was the one with the knife in his leg.

Again, Noah wanted nothing more than to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, stood before the resident metal-faced punk, brandishing the other's knife deep in the flesh of his thigh like some sort of twisted fashion statement. Every minor twitch and spasm of his muscles had white-hot agony lick at the back of his mind like flames, matching the welling heat of pained tears he desperately choked down; Noah refused to cry in front of Duncan, refused to let the other know just how much pain he was in.

He took a few tentative steps backwards, edging towards the exit of the Economy Cabin and towards the relative safety of the Confessional. Each step was a test in his composure, as every time he put even the slightest bit of weight onto his pierced leg Noah felt liquid hot torture bubble through his veins.

"Wow. I know you offered to give me a piercing, but don't you think this is a bit much?" Noah snarked, playing off the unsteady tightness of his voice as mirth with a humourless giggle, and disguising the wince he couldn't quite subdue as a cocky tilting of his head.

Noah placed a steadying hand on the doorframe of the exit, never once turning his back to his assaulter or letting his feral grin falter, as his tear-fogged eyes scanned across the cabin. He'd made it to the exit, but really needed a moment to catch his breath. It was so hard to breath around the sharp, burning pain.

The cynic felt, more than saw, the concerned looks the other occupants of Economy were shooting him. In fact, both Owen and Alejandro had jumped from their seats to, assumedly, assist him. That wouldn't do- Noah staunchly refused to show any semblance of helplessness in front of Alejandro. The latino's hero complex and overblown ego would never let Noah hear the end of it, and making himself even the slightest bit sympathetic in front of their audience would offset the persona he'd worked so hard to maintain.

Damn his team and their inconstant bouts of humanity; concern was the last thing Noah wanted! The whole situation was jeopardising his image! He'd have to do something drastic to stop his well intentioned teammates from following him- something crazy.

"I'm keeping this, by the way."

The bookworm yanked the knife from it's nested perch in is thigh, scattering scarlet droplets of blood in its wake, and brandished his newfound weapon with performative flourish. It hurt like a bitch, and Noah had to force down a shudder at the feeling of his own rapidly welling blood as it began to trickle down his leg like molasses in rivulets of crimson. No doubt his shorts would be ruined, not that they weren't already.

A resounding cry of disbelief rattled through the cabin, though Noah payed it no mind.

It... probably wasn't the best idea, ripping the knife out of his stab wound. But Noah was nothing if not committed to his act, and it wasn't as if he could just re-plug the bleeding with the knife.

Unless? ...No, no that was stupid. The persistent throbbing pain of his sluggishly bleeding wound was probably just messing with his head.

It was, however, satisfying to watch the well-intentioned concern on the other's faces drain into white-faced revulsion and terror, as Noah playfully began to spin the blood soaked weapon between his fingers. Both Owen and Alejandro came to a halt a few meters away from him, the Spaniard in particular seemed to recoil at the stray droplets of the cynic's blood as his face took on a peculiar green tinge.

And Duncan stood shell-shocked in his original position, apparently still stunned by disbelief by his own actions. Not that Noah cared, but it was a little ironic to him; the big bad delinquent couldn't handle the ramifications of his own violence. How sad, Noah's heart was just bleeding for him- or was it his leg? It was hard to tell, the rapid loss of blood made his deductive skills a little wonky.

"Thanks for the gift, Duncey. Toodles!~"

With that, Noah skittered his way out of the cabin, leaving a trail of scarlet behind him.

"Dude, what the fuck."

---

And then p!Noah hobbles his way to the Confessional to treat his stab wound and stop the bleeding. And probably has a little cry over it because ouch, being stabbed hurts. (Obviously he'd muffle the sounds of his sobs and agonised hissed breaths as he deals with the wound- he wouldn't want anyone overhearing his moment of weakness.)

Then, of course, he remembers that the Confessional is decked out with a camera and quickly re-masks into his usual persona and waxes poetic about how pretty he looks covered in his own blood, and how Duncan was so generous in gifting him his prized knife, and how Noah would love to repay the favour. Or something along those lines.

Duncan in this scenario would have the added bonus of not only dealing with the guilt of stabbing someone, but also the paranoia of Noah's rebuttal. Of which Noah would relish in, because of course he would.

As for the others, Noah would make a conscious and continuous effort to keep them as unconcerned with his wellbeing as possible, since his whole goal is to make himself seem as inhuman and unstable as possible. Letting the others care about him would humanise Noah in the eyes of the cast and the audience at large, which is a big no-no for his game plan.

That doesn't mean he wouldn't let Owen fuss over him in private; Owen's one of the very few people around who knows that a lot of Noah's instability is an exaggeration, so Noah isn't as hesitant to lower his walls.

[furiousgoldfish]

How do you continue to function when you're so burnout for decades long it paralyzed you from working properly? Ngl my life is a whole mess after 10 years trying to survive from my abuser. and I still don't know how to get back on my feet again without having a mental breakdown several times a week and feeling suicidal on top of it

and I'm too ashamed to talk about it to people, i did talk, they were understanding at first, but that doesn't stay long. You can only cry and whine once, after that, you're burdening them with your loads.

They'd say you continue fighting no matter what still and I do, fight still everyday in my life even if it's getting up from bed. But what I can't do is going to work, I just can't, it doesn’t help that i experience abuse too from the place i work at, had to quit abruptly at one occasion after the boss got physical with me

In this survival state, I mostly earned money from freelance job (and obviously it's not enough)

Everyone I'm close to is very frustrated with me because I didn't seem to be healed even though it's been this long. What I learned from it is that not to bring up my pain ever again and have to pretend I'm doing fine because that's what my family and friends can tolerate. That kind of isolation kills me, as if they didn't consider that i want to be healed too. no one else wants to survive my trauma more than me. I just don't know how and I can't see how it's possible.

Yeah I relate to this! It is very scary to be expected to be able to work and live independently while you're barely holding it together, unable to get up from bed.

I can only share my experience of this, and maybe it's not that helpful, but I want you to know that it can get better, and that people are wrong for expecting you to suddenly be okay after the experience of torturous abuse.

When I escaped, I had enough money from freelancing saved up so I could just rest for a few years (it was stressful, being scared the money would run out), but I was able to indulge fully in resting and not getting up when I didn't want to. I spent years just laying in bed and trying to work trough the trauma and get the feelings of pain and terror out, and it worked to some extent, I started feeling a little less tired after three years!

I started working very infrequently, odd little jobs, helping neighbours for a bit of money, helping the disabled people or cleaning when I could, and it would just be a few hours of work, and I'd be completely drained after that. But again, giving myself plenty of space and time to rest helped me a lot, and then later working on my osdd also helped me restore some of the energy.

I can work only 2-3 days a week now, for a few hours, and it's enough to survive in poverty, if I don't buy anything, so this is what I do. I'm lucky that I'm able to share my bills and rent with roommates and make my own food, and that I'm so used to poverty it doesn't specifically bother me. I still get sad sometimes that I can't have an actual real job and live more safely, but I'm alive, I'm not tormented, and I spend a lot of time resting, and just tell people 'I'm sick' if they ask questions.

I think freelancing, doing a few hours of work infrequently or just slowly letting yourself recover until you can do something for a bit worked great for me, but I also understand it's not something that will work for anyone. If you're stuck not being able to save up, or work enough that you could pay even a part of your rent, that feels debilitating and scary, it doesn't let you plan for the future, it doesn't feel like you can even complain to people as they're unwilling to listen. I am so sorry for what you're going trough, it's legitimately a bad situation, and it's only natural for you to struggle like this after so much abuse. I believe you need to have as much rest as you need and if one day you get a little better, you might be able to figure it out, and if not, I hope at least people take you more seriously and understand that this is real pain, real fear of losing a future over abuse.

[twcfaces]

Who you are is not a problem to be fixed, nor a history to be buried, but an experience worth knowing. -BTW

For a moment after Bruce says anything at all, Harvey feels like he can't breathe. It's not panic, it's not anger - though Two-Face wants to break through his teeth and rage against the glass -

THIS WAS DONE TO US WAS THAT WORTH KNOWING WAS THE PAIN WORTH KNOWING THE PAIN THE PAIN YOU'D NEVER -

But maybe he could understand, a fraction of that life that had been irreparably altered, everything changing in an instance because of someone's choice to be violent, to violate someone else's autonomy, and to not give a damn about the consequences.

It wasn't just about the acid. It was Dad, too. Dad's drunken callousness, his brutality against a child who had no choice but to love him. Yes, it was done to him. He didn't make those choices. He didn't earn that punishment.

"I - it's hard. I was so far gone for so long. I thought I was dead - that sounds insane, but - I was. I still am."

He is. It doesn't have to mean he's incapable of reason altogether.

" I know I can't just give up. I'd never get to be any better - do any better - or make the choice to be better."

Harvey looks down at his hands to avoid looking into Bruce's eyes. He isn't sure he can without feeling something that will torment him for the rest of the night.

"I want to make that choice. Despite everything that's ruined me, I want to be able to choose to be better."

He's quiet for a little bit longer. Two-Face is quiet, too. Stunned, he thinks. Harvey doesn't assert himself like this too often.

"... I don't really tell anyone when the coin comes up good. The relief I feel. I want to get to a place where I can feel that because of a choice I made. Not because my ritual said I could."

Maybe that doesn't fix anything, and it wouldn't make him magically well again, but... it's moving an inch forward. Twelve inches will make a foot.

Even if he has to scrape it out with his fingernails. Even if he has to live with Two-Face forever. Even if he slides backwards.

He will do good again. He'll choose it wholeheartedly. If he can gather his pieces together with duct tape and glue and do the right thing? Anyone can.

@officialbruciewayne

[jumpywhumpywriter]

A Life in the Hands of the Enemy -- Villain reluctantly saves Hero's Life part 9

Warnings: violence, bleeding, near-death experience, captivity whump, cruel Villain whumper

He gestured to the syringe in his hand with a knowing smirk. "This is a strong sedative. Whether you'd like to proceed with the operation conscious or unconscious is entirely up to you. All you have to do is ask me for it." He gave it a second to sink in as Amber narrowed her eyes at him distrustfully, clearly thinking he was going to sedate her no matter what answer she gave, and that offering her a choice was only another form of torment. Wrong. Dead wrong. Another miscalculation on her part.

"Conscious it is," Zack said without batting an eye, and promptly rolled up her shirt to expose her midsection. Amber shivered as he wiped antiseptic across her skin, quickly realizing that he wasn't kidding. He'd do the procedure whether she was awake or not. It was only when he picked up a scalpel that it finally hit her.

"Wait... WAIT!" She shouted, straining against her restraints and eyeing the blade with a flicker of genuine fear.

"Yes?" He looked at her innocently, his voice dripping with hidden danger.

"Okay, fine... k-knock me out..." Amber stammered weakly, her voice dropping to a low whisper.

"What's the magic word?" He twirled the scalpel skillfully in his hand, flashing her a sly grin. He enjoyed the rush of power he got from these kind of games. Knowing he could get his victims to say whatever he wanted... holding their life on a thread...

Amber's face reddened with anger and humiliation.

"Speak now, or forever live with your answer," Zack pressed, and lightly touched her side with the flat side of the scalpel, making her squirm in fear.

"Please..." Amber finally hissed through gritted teeth, looking as though it physically pained her to force the word out of her mouth. She knew exactly what he was doing with his mind tricks, and hated giving him the satisfaction of winning. But her defiance wasn't worth the pain it would cost her, in this particular instance.

Zack smiled coldly, setting down the scalpel to pick the syringe up again. "See? That wasn't so hard. Good manners are basic common courtesy."

Amber scowled viciously at him with a glare that could wilt the petals off of roses as he rolled up her shirt sleeve. Her arm was stiff with coiled tension as he injected the sedative into her bloodstream.

"Don't worry, you're in good hands. I'll have these pieces of lead out of you in no time."

"Now why don't I believe you?" Amber sniped. "You're a cruel killer with a genius mind who likes to play mind games and tear your victims apart. Literally, not metaphorically. Your hands are anything BUT 'good'."

Zack shrugged with a laugh. "You're right, I can't deny my nature. But you're a special case. I need you alive and healthy to carry out my pet projects, so for once, your best interests are at the forefront of my genius mind. For my sake."

"You... sadistic... prick..." Amber mumbled, her voice slurring as her eyelids grew heavy. Another second and she was out like a light, tension leaving her features as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Zack shook his head to himself as he gathered the rest of the medical tools he would need to extract the bullets and shrapnel. Almost no one besides Amber knew that he had been an emergency surgeon in his past, one of the best of the best in the city, once dedicated to saving lives.

Until he decided to leave his career and become a villain, using his skills to hurt instead of heal. He'd sometimes perform live operations or dissections on people who had crossed or betrayed him without using anesthesia, sharpening his skills while getting satisfaction out of his enemies' suffering. Double win. Another bonus was that it set an example to anyone else who dared to think they could outsmart his genius mind. His intellect was one of his greatest tools.

Amber was lucky he had given her the option to be knocked out at all, considering how she'd acted up earlier. But Zack decided to have a little grace and not punish her quite yet, as she was still learning the rules of his hospitality. She still needed to learn to obey him better. He'd enjoy watching her fiery defiance fade into compliance. He knew all the ways to break down a person's defenses, bit by bit.

He'd been this villain for over two decades; he wasn't new to the game. Zack hummed to himself as he got to work, carefully cutting into Amber's side with practiced precision, his surgeon's steady hand serving him well.

Only a few minutes and he found the first bit of metal, a 9mm bullet lodged dangerously close to an artery. He carefully extracted it, dropping it into a collection container with a plink.

He alternated between operating and double checking his x-rays to make sure he was getting it all. After roughly an hour and a half had passed, he dropped the last piece of sharp shrapnel into the container with the rest, heaving a sigh. Amber really had it rough. She was covered in scars of all ages, both old and new. Just because she had accelerated healing, didn't mean injuries wouldn't leave a permanent mark.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 10/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

Notes at the end!

-----------------------------------------------

Lucifer should've known that even in his sleep, his torment would not stop.

He should have been wiser, but exhaustion dulled his senses, making him lower his guard.

He thought that maybe, maybe, the universe would give me just this little moment. And at the beginning he really thought that. He felt weightless. Like he's not the Morningstar, the fallen angel, the King of Hell, the Sin of Pride, a father or a lover. Like for the first time in a millennia, he simply existed.

So forgive him for his surprise when darkness swallowed his dreams before he could savor them fully.

Roo: Hello, fallen. Been a while, hasn't it?

Lucifer: Roo.

Roo: Don't look at me like that. Our deal is still in effect, you know. I can't do anything more than this even if I wanted to.

Lucifer: You saying you want to do more then? Like harm me?

Roo: Ugh, you silly creatures, always so pessimistic. Can't someone just chill and have fun?

Lucifer: I highly doubt the root of all evil and chaos embodiment just wants to 'chill'.

Roo: Believe what you will, fallen. I am many things, but I am no liar.

Lucifer: Your sister surely is.

Roo had to laugh at that. 

Roo: Yin in every Yang or so they say.

Lucifer: What? You're telling me you have good in you?

Roo: I would think the fact that you get to keep your soul was a sign in and of itself.

Lucifer: That's less than the bare minimum.

Roo smirked and rested her head on her hand, a gesture that grated Lucifer's nerves. He couldn't help but think he should take a page from Adam's book and wipe that shit-eating grin off her face.

Roo: Had the old man never told you to not look at a gifted horse's mouth? 

Lucifer: Enough. Why are you really here?

Roo: If you must know, I merely wanted to ask how you are doing! After all, meeting The Fates must have been quite the experience.

Lucifer: You were looking?

Roo: I wanted to see if my vessel works well. It's not my fault I can see everything you see, hear every thought you think, feel every pain you wish never happened but also desire to inflict onto yourself. I wanna ask, does your pity party ever stop?

Realistically, Lucifer knows that Roo is messing with him; she was deliberately provoking him, reveling in his inner turmoil. She's luring him in, and he's taking the bait.

There's a creeping cold that's getting worse the longer they talk. He thought nothing of it at first but he's now starting to feel it under his skin.

He's well aware of the threat in front of him but doesn't mean he's not going to bite back with force.

Lucifer: I think you're forgetting who delivered the final blow in the first war. You know, the blow that led to your defeat?

Roo's nonchalant and playful facade cracked just a bit that Lucifer knows he struck a nerve.

Lucifer: Hell, shouldn't you be more thankful to me? Without my actions in offering the fruit to humanity, you wouldn't have gained the power you so desperately craved to rise again. And now, here you are, benefiting from my influence once more.

The Sin of Pride couldn't fathom where this sudden surge of confidence came from, but he refused to cower any longer. Roo had expected him to tremble in fear, to bow before her as if she were someone superior to be revered on.

He's sick and tired of everyone assuming he should be the one on his knees, begging for mercy.

Lucifer: How are you the root of all evil when I'm the one who started sin. You should be worshipping me! Now that I think about it, in some twisted way, I was your creator-

His mockery was short lived when the dreamscape glitched and suddenly it wasn't Roo in front of him; it's The Root of All Evil.

Laughter erupted from the shadowy figure, a grotesque sound reminiscent of a rabid hyena's. Refusing to be intimidated, Lucifer continues to put oil in the fire.

Lucifer: Bringing out the big guns for a little comment? Insecure much?

He's bullshitting at this point but damn him if he's going down without an ounce of victory. He also thinks he's lucky to have said as much at all.

The abrupt stop of laughter sent an involuntary shiver down his spine, and then gravity seemed to solidify around him, pressing down with an oppressive force.

Push.

Michael: All you had to do was listen.

Push.

Lilith: You're exhausting, Lucifer.

Push.

Charlie: He's defending this hotel! How come he could have faith in me but my own father can't.

Push.

Y̵̛̞̝̳̥͍̏͛͊ö̴̼̭̜̖́͗̒͝ü̴̩͚͆͑ ̵͎̉̒̄̄ả̶̭͈͍̟̳ṙ̵̡̲͙̼͎è̸̮̳̲̊͂̔̍ ̴̠͔̯̘̬̑͝s̵̜̪̗̯̚è̴͇͌̇ṅ̷̘̝̀t̶̛̹̝̄͘ẻ̶͓̱̬͔̅̉ͅn̵̥̽̋̌̓ĉ̴͜e̶̯͇̤̺̤̅̀̅d̵̝̰̬̗̋ͅ ̶̝͕̩͇̱̎̋͝͝ẗ̶̢̊͠õ̶̡̦͖͒̈́̍̍ ̸̧̏F̸̧̬̪̂̋a̸̞͈͍͇̔̓͘͜l̶̬͙̤͈̝̑̕l̵̼͂.̴̱̘̣̽̏̕͜

Lucifer screams. But instead of despair, he feels anger bubbling within him. What the hell is happening to him? He's been snapping more. Why did he snap at Michael? Why did he tell him that he can't wait for Heaven to be destroyed? He never wanted that. All he wanted was to give Eve free will. All he wanted was to love Lilith. All he wanted was for Charlie to be safe. All he wanted was for everything to STOP!

Roo: What's the matter, little devil? Never seen real evil before?

The cold is becoming unbearable now. The lake is frozen and all the greenery had been turned into crystals, consumed by the creeping frost that made them look like solid darkness.

Lucifer gritted his teeth, feeling the chill seeping into his bones, threatening to overwhelm him. He refused to give Roo the satisfaction of witnessing the King of Hell tremble; regardless if it's in fear or not.

Roo: Let me show you just how good of a person I can be. 

Then she's suddenly up on his face and brings a finger to his forehead.

Lucifer can feel Roo's corruption going further inside him and at the same time, a lot of somethings are coming out. It must be his remaining divinity because that's the only reason he can think of on why his Father's tether is screaming and clawing at him. 

He feels himself choke from everything happening all at once but he can't move. Roo has him locked in place and he never felt so helpless.

'Am I going to die here?'

No. Roo said that she won't be the one to deliver him to his demise. Nevertheless, he thinks that this is it.

Roo: Remember these words, fallen. A message from The Fates that you did not get to hear.

Charlie. He wants Charlie.

Roo: With the first soul's ascend, all began to unfold.

Tears begin to form in The King of Hell's eyes. Be it from the pain or fear, he doesn't know. 

Roo: It will end at a star's fall, as the threads have foretold.

Michael! Where is he?! He promised Samael he'll always protect him!

Roo: Trumpets will sing, as the sky recites a prayer.

'Father. Help me.'

Roo: An instrument of Heaven shall come down and be the devil's slayer.

He struggled to remain conscious; he fights to stay awake but he can't even move a finger but his efforts were in vain as he collapsed to the frozen ground, utterly drained. Through hazy vision, he can see Roo staring down at him with a gleeful smile.

Roo: See you soon, my fallen~

He wakes up to the smell of Marigolds.

-----------------------------------------------

In Nifty's voice: How was that?!!

You have no idea how long I spent making that rhyme prophecy thingy.

As always, your kind words and actions are greatly appreciated!

My DM's are always open for theories and introspections <3

[icedragonlizard]

Headcanon: Heroes in Another Dimension reopened old wounds for two people

Kirby and the star alliance went through two adventures. The first one was in the main story where the group went out to stop the Jambastion cult. The second adventure then took place in Heroes in Another Dimension, where the group then went to Another Dimension to save Hyness and the mage sisters from the brink of demise.

There's something worth talking about, though. That the second adventure takes place in Another Dimension. Allow me to talk about my headcanons for how two dream friends handled this adventure:

Magolor and Susie have both been stranded in Another Dimension before, with Magolor having been stuck there for about five months while Susie was stuck there for like more than a damn decade. They both absolutely hated it. Neither of them wanted anything to do with that wretched place ever again after they left in their respective instances. And then... they've had to GO BACK to Another Dimension again during HiAD with Kirby and all the other dream friends!

After the first Star Allies adventure of defeating Void Termina, Kirby then reassembled the group to go to Another Dimension. Magolor and Susie were very hesitant to stay in the group, for obvious reasons.

They've both told Kirby about their Another Dimension experiences in the past before HiAD. It took Kirby a few seconds to remember this when he noticed them both being hesitant to join in on the adventure for HiAD... and he came to understand why. But nevertheless, he insisted they still join with the rest of the group, as he then promised that they won't be there alone this time nor will they have to be there for too long. That, and Taranza would've been sad if they didn't join.

And so Magolor and Susie stayed in the star alliance on the adventure for HiAD, despite their traumatic experiences with Another Dimension. They were not excited for it, though. They were scared that old wounds were going to reopen and it'll really torment their minds.

When HiAD's events went on... oh boy... the feeling of old wounds reopening for both Susie and Magolor was much worse than they anticipated! They had horrific flashbacks of the times they were previously stuck in this hellscape. It got so bad that they struggled to prevent themselves from going frantic at times. Taranza was right alongside them in this adventure, and it made him horrified to see how traumatized these two looked to be going through this place. He had to keep assuring that they'll be okay and they'll get through this.

Taranza, of course, was never stuck in Another Dimension beforehand like Magolor and Susie were. HiAD was his very first time of being in that place, and while they both did tell him about their experiences with this place before... it really hit different when he got to see the place himself and watching these two be so frightened and afraid over it. It was one thing to be told about it, it's on another level for him to actually start knowing what it was like for these two to have been stuck here. It has made him feel all the more heartbroken for them, especially Susie who was stuck here for so much longer.

Taranza had given hugs to both of his fellow wave 3ers during this harrowing adventure, reminding them they're not alone this time, and that he and the others would make sure that they don't get hurt here.

It got really bad when all the other dream friends started noticing Magolor and Susie looking so distraught during HiAD. It got to the point that the group asked them why they were so frightened and upset. The two of them didn't want to say why, but the group insisted out of concern... and eventually, the two reluctantly opened up why.

The thing is that Magolor and Susie have both been repressive about their trauma before this point. Mostly, I mean. They've told a few of their closest friends, but the star alliance at large did not know about their baggage regarding their experiences with Another Dimension.

Magolor only disclosed his Another Dimension experiences with Marx, Taranza and Susie before HiAD, and begged them to not tell anyone with them listening. He's been secretly embarrassed with how much he fell from grace when he was sent to that twisted dimension and didn't want to let it be known to a lot of people. While he of course made his apology when returning to Dream Land (haha, pun!), he didn't explain to most about what actually happened to him before he returned. He wanted to move on from those debilitating horrors.

Before HiAD, anything about Susie's backstory (Another Dimension, her daddy issues, you name it) was literally only known to Kirby, Magolor and Taranza. They were the only ones that she was comfortable enough to open up to, and she pleaded them to keep it all a secret. She's never said a thing about her backstory to anyone else.

For comparison, Taranza is much more open about his trauma, and the entire star alliance knew about his deal with Sectonia before HiAD. But until HiAD, nobody except for Kirby and the other wave 3ers knew anything about Susie's grief because she didn't tell them. She didn't even tell anyone aside from those three that Max Haltmann was her dad to begin with. She's largely kept all her personal business to herself, and has been trying to maintain a 'smart kickass coolgirl' persona and tried hard to not look sad or traumatized to most people.

When Susie was backed in a corner to make a confession during HiAD, she deliberately left out details. She only said "Yeah, I was stuck here before. I was separated from my dad, and I came back to him, but he's dead now. But I'm okay guys, because I've been trying to overcome the grief, and that's why I didn't talk about it to you all before!" and didn't elaborate further. The reality is that she's been struggling more to heal than she wanted most of the dream friends to believe. She just didn't want them all to treat her like some sort of charity case because she considered that to be degrading. She wants to be seen as a coolgirl, m'kay? Magolor also wanted to be seen as cool. Neither of them wanted to be seen as traumatized trainwrecks, but unfortunately their frantic behavior in HiAD just blew their cover.

Taranza decided to help bail out both Susie and Magolor. He told the rest of the star allies that they've been working really hard to recover from their trauma, and told the group to please don't mention those two's trauma anywhere around them because it'd make them both uncomfortable. They were already feeling uncomfortable when they were backed in a corner to explain why they were scared during HiAD!

The group agreed to it, but they were flabbergasted by the revelations nevertheless, especially what Susie disclosed. They had no idea that Susie had gone through something like that. She's usually acted either very cutesy or very logical/formal around them before this. Magolor had acted very silly and cool around the group before the confession. The group thought it was weird to be repressing their trauma like that, but they adhered to the requests of not bothering them about it. The two then thanked Taranza for that!

Also, to be fair, Marx was singlehandedly an additional reason why Susie tried to hide her daddy issues to most. This is because she's watched Marx tell Sectonia jokes to upset Taranza. Unfortunately, after HiAD, Marx then told jokes about Susie's dad that caused her to snap. She already hated Marx beforehand because he was doing really aggravating things such as licking her ice cream and tampering with her robotics!

Susie and Magolor were so relieved when the events of HiAD were finally over. They were really agonized during the adventure. They were the quickest to go home as soon as they were allowed to... with Susie resting for a while before going back to work in order to recover from the overwhelming stress she underwent. Magolor went to go sleep excessively inside the Lor Starcutter when he got back home. Phew!!

Kirby felt bad for having made them go. He actually went to each of their homes and told them that he was sorry. It's okay though... they weren't mad at him. He's still their buddy! HiAD just sucked for them.

That's about all I got for this post. Thank you if you read it! I had this idea for a while, considering both Magolor and Susie have been stuck in Another Dimension, and man there's no way they could've looked forward to having to go back to that place AGAIN during HiAD.

Also, it sucks that Magolor and Susie never met during their times in Another Dimension. It could've helped out so much. If they met, then they would've actually had someone in the lowest point of their lives. But instead, they were both completely alone in that hellscape. :(

See you for the next one, guys.

[wordsvomit101]

I'm a random cringe teenager in school, we are not in Euphoria dude.

Author note: It is from Leviathan's pov because I do not want to come back to that dark time that closely, both of my arms shag to the ground when I thought back to it. Plus I need to write something else besides the quiz or else I might flip. Warnings: OOC, you might not relate to this MC, Leviathan being weird.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

(Lunch Break)

"Stop moping. I can't stand that idiotic sulking face of yours. Either get out of my sight or speak quickly," he snapped, hitting the right button as your mouth, busy chewing rice, halted to gulp it down before you began yammering nonstop.

"I don't know what I was doing back then, dude. I should just cooperate with them but I tried to act cool and know it all. Fuck! It was so bad and I sound like a total asshole! I might need to change the table," you lamented, as if not bothering to breathe.

You sit across him in the cafeteria, the space humming with the cacophony of annoying mortals and the frigid metallic scent of their food trays. The students' chatter is a relentless torrent, bouncing off the walls and reaching into every corner of the room. It's relentless, grating, and suffocating. It's the sound of a thousand conversations overlapping, each one clamoring for attention, each one more meaningless than the last. He tries to focus on the disgustingly low-quality food and your voice, to block out the noise, but it's impossible. The clatter of trays, the scrape of chairs, the mindless babble—it's all too much. He feels his fingers twitching, his palms itching to cover his ears and shut out the world, or maybe just slaughter all of them.

"The rest of the class was ok, I think, but I can see how they uncomfortably sit and not look back at me. Oh my god, I didn't just set off a series of bullying in my second year in high school, did I? Shit, I definitely did," you rambled on.

"Then how is it my problem?"

You look up at him with all the innocence those eyes could muster, yet hiding the aggravating angel-like rat behaviors. You give him another vein on the neck.

"You silly goose, you stuck with me for too long, and after all we've gone through, you have to share this with me. I stuck through your cringe emo phase when we were in middle school so this is the least you could do, you ungrateful brat," you chided him in a tone an older sibling would, and it only made him want to choke you from across the table.

It was maddening. Despite your apparent introversion, you never remained isolated for long. Even when you occupied a seat by yourself, you were always within the watchful gazes of at least three others. He had once witnessed you sitting alone in a classroom, but within five minutes, you had hastily gathered your belongings and hurried off to an extracurricular activity, your punctuality bordering on par with those from Niflheim, which is not appreciated in this situation.

Now he has to sit here and listen to your endless yapping again while surrounded by these stank mortals. Their pungent socks and unwashed body odors assaulted his delicate nostrils. Sharing your sensory experience became a curse as he lamented the existence of his sensitive nose. The stench from a table away was an unbearable torment, something that only that vixen Beelzebub and his cronies would enjoy.

"Ughh, I'm so fucked, you will be fine for sure but I don't know when my resting bitch face effect run out. Oh, can you eat this for me? Thanks, I don't have the will to try to eat them today."

"When did I say I-"

"Just eat them, will you? Plus my parents and I once bet on how tall you will be in the future. They both said you will be in the 6-foot range but I said 6'3 so grow faster for me," nonchalantly you quickly interrupted him with another story that your mind made up to patch up the holes his presence left.

You already put all the vegetables on his tray before he could say anything and get back to stuffing those cold things you called pork into your mouth again. Despite his genuine attempts to offer alternative snacks and better choices from nearby vendors, you remained steadfast in your refusal, compelling him to endure these demeaning moments alongside you. Annoyingly preaching something about saving money despite how you impulsively bought them both two bags of crab chips and bottles of banana milk the next day... If he threw it away you would be both sad and angry at him, possibly even not talking to him again for weeks unless he explains why so he, humiliatingly, chews those junks down his throat... It wasn't bad, at least.

But your smug looks ruin that moment and even dare to tease him about it despite your cheeks being stretched out by him like useless dough.

All the times he tried to initiate something with you, small or big, you outright gave him a funny disgusted look that was different from how those vile angels did but got on his nerves all the same. One time you even poked his eyes and screamed bloody murder, grinning childishly all the while, before he chased you around the school grounds, making a scene for the whole student body like some kind of circus. It's still a mystery how you manage to outrun him despite your less-than-stellar PE scores.

"What's with that grumpy look? You look like a monkey that just ate a hot chili—A good-looking one, of course, so chill your ass down, bro, that look could give a grandmother a heart attack."

... He had often contemplated the violent retribution he could inflict upon you—hanging you high by the neck or sending you tumbling down the unforgiving steps for each careless barb you hurled his way, only to watch you brush it off with a nonchalance that made it seem like nothing. In the reality of your usual demeanor, you would shy away from his gaze and hide your thoughts in your polite smile, an unspoken pact of avoidance. But now, you were a stranger to your former reserve, an uncharted territory in which your words flowed freely, unlike the distance you put around yourself toward everyone... It's grating as much as it is refreshing.

"I should cut your tongue off one of these days so you wouldn't spew nonsense all the time."

"Ah shush buddy, I would already be buried by now if you took your threat seriously. Also, what is our next class? Math? Shit, did we have homework in math? I can't remember, I only cramp on our literature work."

He learns something else about you that only makes him want to hurl you through the wall. Despite having all the time in the world, you whine and moan when it comes to your duties but you read through those meaningless comics and binge-watch countless romance dramas online, swooning over fictional humans whose appearances barely reach half his height almost every night. Instead of making good use of your time, you ignore the genuine thing right next to you. He should have twisted your nose off your face when you laughed at his face back then.

He ignored the flutter in his ribcage when he thought back to your smiling face, carefree and looking up at him with playfulness as you took joy in his frustration.

"Your stupidity never ceases to astound me. We have a test tomorrow, you bull-headed rat." Standing up, he took both of their trays to the table to be cleaned later. He didn't eat much besides the gross vegetables you put on his tray and waited for you to finish eating. As you two walked, you continued to talk incessantly, and he had to suffer through the noise.

"Aiya, stop with that snobby ass speech and help me study. At least I remember the formula, you know? An achievement for people like me who suck at it! You should be proud of your homie."

"I would be disappointed in myself if I ever am proud of the likes of you, you ange- rat."

Glancing down at you, your gazes ahead and not a bit bothered, it made him want to wipe it off your face and make you red with anger and embarrassment like that time… but you would never accept it, nor would your eyes give him the same reaction he was starting to get used to. Getting used to this mundane routine, the normalcy of this setting was so much different compared to schools in Hades. It was peaceful. It made him want to hold your hand…

"Hey."

Your serious tone of voice broke him out of his thoughts. When he glanced back, you were frowning, contemplating… You were realizing the differences again, this was the 35th time you did this. He admits he underestimated you when he first got into your memory zone. You almost blasted him with thunder magic the first time you uttered that human's name after he refused to join you to go to the anime convention for the 6th time. He envied how just by a mere utterance of that wretched name, you easily broke out of your trance.

Like last time, your eyes didn’t have that foggy glaze over them but were becoming brighter again.

"Have you ever talked like an old man like that?… And have you always had those horns before? Your voice sounds deeper too…"

But no matter, it was an easy fix, some rearranging, and good leading words would do. Before your gaze looked away from his and your smile went cold again, he quickly took out your favorite flavor lollipop from his pocket and unwrapped it easily between his hands, acknowledging how you were becoming more tense each second and your eyes almost fully cleared even without looking at you.

"Are you-"

"Hmph, you must have a lot of time to even question things like this."

Gently shoving the lollipop into your mouth and taking in your shocked face, his heart was unconsciously at ease when you calmed down after tasting the familiar treat between you and that human. You gazed up at him with a goofy smile, humming a tune as you continued walking to class together, the tension between you dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

"Did you buy it from the vendor? I thought they were out of this flavor today- Ah wait, I need to finish this quick. How much time do we have left until class starts?"

As you two entered, he swiftly slipped into his seat, cutting you off. The class was strewn with a sparse gathering of students, as per the norm… Tch.

"Not a single ‘thank you’, it seems you’re the ungrateful one. I should let you rot once that test comes around."

"Hah?! H-hey I get it alright?… I’m sorry ok? Sorry for taking you for granted."

As you settled into the seat before him, a sense of remorse washed over you, reflected in the apologetic gaze you cast upon him. It was as if your eyes carried the weight of a thousand regrets, and he could almost visualize your invisible ears drooping in a display of pitiful sorrow. With a hesitant glance upwards, you met his gaze, mirroring the submissive demeanor of some of his summoned creatures, evoking a sense of empathy tinged with a hint of melancholy.

… Funny, that was how you looked at him when you brought that whip on his back. Not like this, it was not one where he could sense the disgust you had for yourself as you held back from apologizing. That might be one of the last times you were ever expressive toward him.

"I’m sorry… and thank you for buying this for me, and for the many other times you did."

Your voice was softer now, almost like a whisper, yet honest all the same as your eyes never strayed from his. However, he preferred that impish grin you usually directed at him than this.

"Heh, like I need your worthless apology. Finish it quickly, the teacher is coming."

In a swift and unspoken gesture, you couldn't help but emit a soft snort and playfully nudge his arm, a silent indication of your camaraderie. With a subtle yet meaningful exchange, you effortlessly returned to your designated spot, sinking into your seat as you savored the sweet crunch of your lollipop. In that fleeting moment, the weight of somberness that loomed above both of you dissipated into the ether, replaced by an unspoken understanding and a false sense of lightness.

"Geez, way to ruin a nice apology, you jerk."

"…"

The veneer of normalcy would inevitably crack, the charade becoming an unsustainable burden. As the school bell pierced the air, summoning students into the classroom and the teacher embarked on the lesson, his gaze fell upon your slouched posture, a telltale sign of your mind already drifting off to daydreaming. When the final bell tolled, signaling the end of class, he alone would carry the weight of these fleeting moments and a poignant reminder of the unspoken connection that had flickered between you.

'… For now, let me savor this a little bit longer.'