#when the story starts with a bleeding heart and the worst thing having already happened

[thespoonisvictory]

I LOVE a story that starts with something dead and missing in a friend group. When the person who got the gang together is something they can’t even talk about, and you can just feel that they should be a main character in this story, that’s when you know you’re in for the good shit

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 1 - Creation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

This is my first-time writing fanfic but I literally cannot get the stories out of my brain so…why not make everyone else suffer. This is part one of a story I’ve been rolling around some time. I feel setting a good foundation for the reader/main character is super important, so I PROMISE this story gets better. Be prepared for the usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness (Lucifer), fluff, eventual smut (yes horny readers bear with me we need some plot), and of course 18+ because….it’s Hazbin what do you expect?

Summary: f!reader finds themselves in Hell. Unable to accept your horrible fate you make it a point to continue being a bright soul surrounded by the darkness of Hell. With some higher advice, you create a list of rules to live. A short list to keep out danger and continue helping the lower sinners of Pentagram City. It’s the ONLY way you can survive (right?). Your list begins to crumble when you start helping Lucifer’s daughter with some hotel and a dream to redeem the same sinners you want to protect.

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

1.5k Words

Part 1 (You're on it!) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Rumor was all sinners would spawn in hell with attributes related to their life and (untimely) death. Your gift power was proof of that.

“Everyone get inside! Come on before the exorcists see you.” You hurry the last of the smaller sinners inside a building. It kills you to see such fear from the souls. “Lock the door. I'll lure them away.”

How foolish you were. Somehow a heart of gold followed you to these depths after death...ironic how even the nicest people end up in hell. God really does have his favorites I suppose.

But that foolishness led you to the best thing to happen to you, so you thought. Dodging through the streets, maneuvering, anything to lead the "angels" away from even the worst of sinners. Cursing praying for their safety. It was only your second extermination, but you already caught onto their game. It was all too easy to get around their sloppiness. Needing a breather, you weave around some cars and dive behind a dumpster. Idiots can't even keep track of my thickass? Pathetic!

A few moments pass as it grows quiet. Your breath begins to steady when the softest whimper catches your attention. As quietly (and non-threatening) as possible, you turn the corner to approach a crying dark mass curled on the ground. Seeing their blood pooling sends your stomach into flips. Not another one. Fearing the worst you gently reach out. “Hey hey...shhh..." you utter, feeling her wince ever so slightly. "No don't panic I'm here to help. Where are you hurt?"

The young girl slowly uncrumples herself to show her wound...a massive "X" sliced hips to neck. It was so deep you couldn't believe she was still breathing let alone even moving. Fuck she's lost too much blood. "Come here let me try to stop the bleeding" you lied. You knew she had no chance. But your chest hurt at the thought of her dying (again) alone in some shit alley. With the last of her strength she curled into you, her white hair tickling your face. She had her textured locks pulled back tightly and black horns accenting the top of her head. Her tired red eyes relaxed, slowly closing as she leaned into you. Such a beautiful girl falling to such a terrible fate. With one hand on part of her wound, you used your other to softly stroke her head. “I'm so sorry young one...just breathe in and know you're not alone.” As her breathing shallows you gently kiss her forehead, bidding her soul a gentle goodbye.

The second your lips touch her skin, pure fire floods through your veins. Every nerve in your body feeling ripped apart. You spasm from the pain, clenching onto the girls now limp body. Just when the pain starts misting your vision you see flashes of...pink? "What the fuck!!" You grit through your teeth. What felt like hours of pain was merely a few seconds and it quickly dissipated from your body as did the pink light. Shit shit shit, there’s no way the exorcist didn’t hear OR SEE that! You stay perfectly still...listening to the silence with your mind reeling over what just happened.

A gasp breaks the deafening silence, pulling you back to reality. The young girl jolted out of your arms, gasping in as much air as she could. Looking down you notice her wounds were gone, only dry blood and tattered cloth remained from the laceration. You look at each other in panic and shock.

After inspecting her stomach she snaps out of her daze, remembering you two were still not safe.

"It's too dangerous to stay out here. Come with me - we aren’t far from the safehouse. I am sure my mother will want to meet you."

You follow without hesitation. Trust has always been a weakness. As you make your way through the city, she explains how she was out collecting angelic weapons with her sister when they got separated. After getting cornered she just accepted her fate...then you found her. "The name is Clara by the way. Clara Carmine. I usually just go by CC though."

You never intended to get into the Overlord game. You were merely trying to make the best, quiet life in hell if that was even possible. Guess things change when you save the daughter of Hells most prestigious Overlord. Who could say no to being taken in and protected by THE Carmilla Carmine.

Carmilla immediately began preparing you after hearing of the power you possessed. The power to heal with touch...of course it’s not that easy…it required pure intensions, coming from a place of love. Who the hell (pun intended) wrote this cruel joke for a sinner? How did the lowest of low get given such power just a few short years after arriving? It was your most precious secret. It had to be. If anyone of ill will found out - and come on, it's Hell - your soul would have been the most sought after in the pride ring. You wouldn’t last a day. Carmilla was indebted to you for saving Clara, so she made a deal to give you protection and mentorship as repayment. The first of many deals you’d make in Hell, growing the power you held.

In the years you've been under Carmilla's watch, you created a short list of rules to keep yourself out of harm’s way -

1. Never trust another Overlord

2. Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have

3. Never bring anyone too close

4. Never let your weaknesses show

It was a simple enough list that had worked for you so far.

You chose to make deals with those who needed protection or help while navigating the dangerous afterlife. In your deals each soul was bound to secrecy as to who you were and what you provided. Contract details and fine print were your specialty. Your soul count was the highest Carmilla had ever seen for someone so new, so merciful. She would often mention only one other sinner ever rose the ranks as quick though his methods were…less than savory. She never bothered to say who. Every Overlord meeting the rumors spread of some "Saving Grace" sinner making their way into powerful ranks. A shadow giving vile hope. But just as quick as those rumors appeared - they were put to rest when no new faces ever appeared. Of course you were there - you needed to attend for information just as much as the next guy, but you never sat as an Overlord. Carmilla granted you a place off to the side as "the help" to serve tea or make notes as needed. No one ever batted an eye to someone considered just a worker bee in Carmilla's hive.

Every meeting was the same, though it seemed unease was rising after each extermination. Six years had passed since you fell into this hellhole (har har). Another extermination, another meeting. Sitting in your designated corner, you twirl your pen as the Overlords began taking their seats. Might as well be invisible - but you preferred it that way. As your mind slightly wonders to less important things, the quiet buzz of conversations around you fades away from your ears.

"—yes I know I’ve been absent some time. I'm sure you've ALL been wondering!"

Your attention snaps back with the sound of this charming new voice. The demon was dressed to the nines - red suit jacket, gloves, freshly pressed slacks. Your already preoccupied mind raced. Who the hell is that? Where has he been? Why does he have that shit eating grin?

He must hold some power to be sitting here after all these years…

"Not really. But welcome back in any case."

That dismissal from Camilla was enough for you to put aside any questions you had of the demon. You knew this meeting would be tense. Can't afford distractions when you needed to be all ears. As you began writing you felt something in the pit of your stomach. Was someone staring at you? You try to shake the feeling when Velvette made her grand entrance. With a sigh and eye roll you set aside your notebook. God damn this woman, no respect, no couth. Gonna be a long one today.

The sinking feeling returns, this time you catch the culprit. The (new to you) demon Overlord is staring at you as if you’re the only one in the room. You make eye contact hoping he moves his gaze, but it only fuels the intensity on you. That smile never faltering. Your ears ring and static pricks your ear drums. Can I fuckin help you sir? Wait no, you're just the help. Lower sinners would never even dream of speaking to an Overlord like such. Thankfully the eye contact breaks when Velvette tosses the head of an exorcist on the table.

Ah I suppose this will be quite a fascinating meeting…

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

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written by @talesfromawannabejournalist, @things-arent-what-they-seem66

(this prologue is a wee bit long, please just bear with me also sorry it was posted later than scheduled things)

Back when the Earth was still young and new, in the garden called Eden the first of humanity was created, Adam and Lilith, the first alpha and omega. From the moment they opened their eyes, their fates were already sealed. Despite being the first of mankind and as made to be equals to the other as was ordained by the creator himself the elders proclaimed the alpha as the leader and the omega was made to serve him as the two would truly begin mankind. Adam did not like this at all, not only did not want to be superior he did not want to lay with Lilith, for his heart belonged to someone else. However, he did not wish to upset the angels so stuck to his role and tried to make it comfortable for his mate and provide for her.

Unfortunately, Lilith did not want to be comfortable she wanted to be free of this mundane life as the future mother of humanity and the alpha's omega, she wanted something bigger than Eden itself. Therefore, she took an angel into her arms and seduced him. She spun a tale of confinement and abuse, done by both the angels and Adam. Though it was only half true and the angel should have known better he fell for her story and took her far away from the garden. Not realizing the heartbreak, Lucifer the angel of light and music had caused to his friend that day.

When the elders found out what had happened to Adam when they heard his cries, they told him to wipe them away for an alpha should not waste any tears on a whore like Lilith. Even though his tears were not shed for her departure. With that being said the elders fashioned a new mate Adam, the second omega Eve. This time the elders told Adam specifically to keep close and make sure she did not stray from him. Adam did just that as he did his best to make sure Eve wouldn't leave and tried to make her happy.

While he did try his best to, and though it wasn't his fault, as Eve would remind him. She just could not feel happiness when she was under so much pressure from the elders to start conceiving and begin humanity. One day she went off on her own hoping for one minute to get away from the weight and burden of it all. She was approached by a snake and his wife. They explained to her that she could be free, truly free of them, all she had to do was eat the forbidden fruit.

Not fully knowing the meaning behind being free, she ate it. Then when she leaves to find Adam, she convinces him that if he were to eat it the two would be free from the expectations. With an offer he couldn't possibly refuse he partook in the forbidden fruit. However, what tasted like the sweetest honey in the smoothest of juices forever left an impact that remained forever bitter and rotten. When the elders and God descended from Heaven itself punishments were given to all four of them.

God had stripped Lucifer of his title as angel and Lilith of her fertility and cast them into a pit of fire and darkness that was created when sin entered the world. As for Adam and Eve, though they disobeyed his one rule in Eden he decided simply to banish them from Eden. Seeing as how they would already have it hard for the rest of their lives out in the unfinished dangerous world. When God left, however, the elders had decided that their Lord was being too merciful, especially on Eve. Therefore, they had placed a heavy curse that would not only on Eve but all omegas that would come from their bloodline.

An omega's heat would be a long, gruesome week where Eve would only desire her alpha. If she were to bear a child, then come time for the birth of it the pain would be the worst form of pain imaginable. If she did not conceive then she would bleed and though the pain would not be severe she would still feel great pangs. Though Adam's curse was not as painful it still was crushing. He was to make sure he provided for his family, as an alpha's job they said. He was to toil in fields and hunt in the dangerous wilds just to bring food for all the children Adam and Eve were expected to have, and they did have many, many, many mouths to feed.

By the time they had over a hundred children they had both had felt as if nothing more than breeding cows to start mankind. Especially when one or two of the elders would remind them of their roles and responsibilities. By the time Eve’s womb could no longer bear Adam’s they had more than enough with having given like to over nine hundred children. With that they had got to see their children mate with their own alpha/omegas created by the elders and help raise many, many, many, many grandchildren, great grandchildren, and even great-great grandchildren. After nine hundred and thirty years their time on Earth had come to a close.

They ascended to the Heavenly plane and were even welcomed by their creator himself into his loving arms. After spending their lives full of backbreaking labor, excruciating heats, and suffering they were finally at peace. They no longer had to bear the weight of responsibility and roles of alpha and omega. They could simply live the rest of eternity in bliss they didn’t even have to be married anymore! Seeing as how once you cross over any marriage/mating you had would be null and void, till death did they part.

They were so close to being truly free, until new souls kept arriving in Heaven and they were expected to now be the representatives of mankind always having to play the part as the first of omegas and alphas. Since they needed guidance and who better to help them adjust to their eternal life in Heaven than the mother and father of humanity themselves. Even though they decided to end their marriage, they were still expected by some to not stray far away from the other. Eve was still supposed to play the role of the omega, sweet and submissive. Adam was still supposed to play the role of the alpha, dominant and strong.

It all came to a head when Hell’s citizens attacked the pearly gates and Adam was tasked with vanquishing the evil. It didn’t stop after that though. Adam was then given the title of commander and was told that once a year to stop this incident from ever repeating itself. As well as to help lower the number of the population down there. So, without any complaint, just like everything else, Adam adorned a new mask, as a soldier.

For centuries this was his life, once a year every year his exorcists would round the sinners and cull them. For the rest of the year he trained his soldiers, help welcome his descendants into Heaven, make appearances, and basically be the poster child that Heaven expected him to be.

But how he wished he wasn’t, sometimes when he didn’t have to put up the act and he was around very few or even alone. He'd looked toward a winner family and couldn’t help but want that. What made it even more remarkable he couldn’t help but want to be the omega in those families. Yes, he knew life wasn’t fair to them, yes, he knew what they endured, but still, he couldn’t help but wish to be looked after and looked at with the same softness and compassion the alpha gave to their omega. That feeling of yearning that was buried all those years ago would come back tenfold.

Nevertheless, he still continued forward for he knew his role and his place in the grand scheme of things. He would make sure that everyone knew their place. including a troublesome princess who dared to challenge the rules. Her place was to guard over her citizens and make sure they didn't rise against Heaven. Not to try and restart what caused the exterminations in the whole place!

So, he decided to devise a plan with the exorcists, and his girls and would destroy the hotel, scare everyone but leave the princess and her residents alone. As it was the deal Heaven made with the king and queen to not harm any Hell-born. That ESPECIALLY included their precious, little baby. However, when they arrived, they were shocked at retaliation by turning their weapons against them and managing to kill over half of Adam's girls. His horror turned to pure rage as he fought the princess and squeezed hard on her neck wanting her to feel every bit of pain his girls had gone through. Including even some of the pain, he had been holding in for hundreds upon hundreds of years.

Despite gaining favor in battle, he was quickly overpowered by the king of Hell himself, Lucifer Morningstar. The former seraphim of Heaven and the former keeper of Adam's heart. It was probably the most humiliating experience of his entire life. Someone who he once thought the world of looked at him as if he was nothing more than some disgusting pest. One that he tried to exterminate personally.

However, it was not Lucifer who destroyed the supposed all-powerful commander. No, that "honor" was given to some lowly sinner. As Adam lay in the dirt his second in command, his best friend, Lute held him in her arms. He could barely hear what she was saying but unlike some people, she stayed with him till the end. She was a true friend and for that, he gave her a comforting smile as he began to drift off to sleep one last time.

As he lay there, he couldn't help but think of his family, his descendants, his children, not to mention poor Eve. Though they weren't together anymore and had been a bit at a distance for a while now. It didn't mean they stopped caring, that tends to happen when you've been with someone for so long. as well as having known them literally all your life. Still, he was sure that eventually, she'd be okay she was tougher than people gave her credit for.

She'll have to look after their sons and daughters now. he hoped she could do it, by herself. At least there was one good outcome that came from this. Adam would no longer be bound by Heaven's pressuring expectations and rules, yes finally, finally, at long last he free.

Adam thought as he closed his eyes one final time

Only for them to open again as he gasped up fully awake.

(hope you enjoyed the prologue @things-arent-what-they-seem66)

[calina12]

Also, holy FUCK, was episode 4 massive for Charlie's character!

Yes, she REALLY needed that reality check about how bad the lives of the sinners are she tries to help, but it also lead to Charlie taking her proper role for a solid second when she get angry at Valentino.

It's quite obvious to me that Vaggie will be the one to actually run the hotel, so it's Charlie's job to not only use her unique position as princess of hell to deal with heaven for her people's sake, she's also supposed to be protective mighty force her guests can find the save haven in they desperately need to escape their circumstances.

When any of their powerful abusers dare to enter the hotel it's HER job to put them in their place and away from their victims.

Her place isn't running the hotel, SHE'S supposed to be the hotel's and people's protector, and I'm so fucking hyped to see her growing into that role. To see her rip open that portal between hell and heaven for good to free her people herself if she fucking has to.

But episode 4 is also so important for Charlie because it showed us just how massive of a toll it took on her that her mother just up and left 7 years ago, and we were already told that Lucifer ain't the dad of the year either.

Angel forgiving her at the end of the episode meant so much to her because she feared so fucking badly that she ruined everything, he would hate her and leave forever, into a life she would have had had a hand in making worse.

Obviously she has massive abandonment issues and as Husker correctly stated: she's a bleeding heart who wants to solve everyone's problems except her own.

And she does that because very clearly she was highly neglected by her parents in her emotional needs, even if I don't put into question at all that they love her.

She desperately tries to help and find in others what she didn't get from her parents, to get a group of people she can finally trust and who won't abandone her, so she tries everything she can to solve everyone else's problems because that way she thinks she will "earn" being worthy of being loved and not abandoned.

So when she just showed up at Angel's work place to talk to Valentino without checking with Angel beforehand what she has to do to NOT cause him hell, and caused an absolute fucking disaster HE had to pay the whole price for and NOT her because of her privilege and immunity as Princess of Hell, that was literally one of the worst things for her she could have caused.

It hit all her insecurities in the worst ways possible. And I'm so glad that they had Angel say "thank you for caring about me" and not "thank you for trying" because that's not the same and what Charlie needed was indeed the former.

She really desperately needed to hear from him that the reason why he forgives her is that he understands that she did all of this because she CARES for him. That his reason for forgiving her has nothing to do with him prioritized anything else she can GIVE or provide over seeing HER.

Mind you, of course this whole disaster she caused can't be justified and it has no business ever happening again to such horrific degrees, she NEEDS to work through her own problems ASAP because the people who depend on her as the privileged and basically untouchable person in power who promised them protection can't continue paying the price for her actions

But this is a fictional story, so I'm talking about the narrative when I say that both Charlie's and Angel's characters needed this to happen for their development.

Just, good fucking God, let this have been the peak of Charlie's naivety and the incident she needed to start healing a deep scar in her heart. I love Charlie to pieces, please give us the pay-off now from the emotional development and what she learned by now so she can grow into the mighty mama bear she is meant to be without her unintentionally continuously hurting her adopted hurt cubs.

Because thats a factor I can't and won't ever ignore in her type of (main) character and in her leader role and privileged position/ status in all of this.

Fingers crossed, cause I'm so fucking ready to love this sweet broken girl with the heart of a lion, with every inch of my being.

[withthewerewolves]

The "Make-Everything-Worse-and-Not-Let-Them-Talk-About-It-For-Even-Longer" AU

Because of who I am as a person, this AU was inevitable. (Sorry guys, I do only have the one kink and I gotta insert it into everything.) (Though to be fair, it turned out to be a much smaller part of the story than intended.)

So, a Nimona mpreg AU. Don’t worry about the how, it could be omegaverse, Ballister could be trans (probably this one), all the residents of the kingdom could be hermaphrodites and that’s perfectly normal, whatever floats your personal boat. 

The important thing is, not long after losing his arm, Ballister realizes he’s pregnant. (As for the arm, I think this would be mostly movie-verse, but with some comic aspects mixed in. The whole thing with the sword and the Queen and Bal’s arm happened like in the movie.) He gets away, gets the bleeding stopped, recovers from the shock, etc, and starts making his prosthetic, maybe thinking about how to prove his innocence. But before he’s done, he starts having Symptoms. Ones that are Distinct enough from arm-chopping symptoms that he has to Think about them. 

It doesn’t take him long to figure it out. He’s pretty smart, and has to be fairly familiar with biology to save himself from blood loss and build a robotic prosthetic. At first, he’s thinking mostly ’This is the worst time in my entire life for this to be happening’, but eventually his practical mind takes a break and his emotional mind gets to loudly trumpet a couple of facts. 

A) The baby is his and Ambrosius’s. It’s something they’d talked about, sometimes, alone together in the dark of their bedroom, when a future seemed not just possible but assured. He remembers the way Ambrosius’s hand had trembled in his, the way his heart had wanted to burst with love and longing. Ambrosius may think he’s a murderer, may have cut off his arm, but Ballister will still love their child with every beat of his black heart. 

And B) The Institute will not let him keep this baby. If he proves his innocence, if he goes back, the Director will send him straight to the medical center to terminate the pregnancy. It’s happened before. Knights are all on birth control as a matter of policy, and have to either retire or ask for a leave of absence before having a baby. It made sense to Ballister, back when it was explained. They were the shield between the kingdom and the darkness. No one could be out of commission unexpectedly. But some years ago, a knight had become pregnant, either on purpose or because of a failure in the birth control, and she had been offered a choice: end the pregnancy or end her career as a knight. If Ballister had thought about it, he would’ve said he’d make the same choice she did, that being a knight was his calling. But when this thought first occurs to him, while digging around the back of the cupboards for the naan bread he knows is in there, he has to sink to the floor and put his head between his knees. 

That’s the moment his belief in the Institute suffers its first crack. 

The second won’t come for a couple of years, when his beautiful healthy baby turns into a butterfly right before his eyes. 

He definitely panics. His whole life for the last few years has been about Nimona and taking care of Nimona and keeping Nimona safe, and now she can shapeshift? That’s going to complicate so many things, upend an already delicate balance. 

The Institute would kill her in a second, just for existing. Ambrosius might kill her without even thinking about it. Anyone in the kingdom might kill her, if they decide she’s a monster. 

He does a couple of noninvasive tests, trying to figure out what’s going on. He doesn’t find anything conclusive, and the next time he sets Nimona on the worktable and pulls out a needle, she bursts into tears. She won’t let him comfort her until he puts the needle away. What am I even doing? he thinks. What does it matter why she can shift? She’s his daughter. He sets aside his experiments. But he doesn't give up.

He’s broken into the Institute before, for parts for his arm he couldn’t get anywhere else, but he doesn’t get caught until he breaks into the labs. He curses at himself the entire time he’s running away, he should have known the scientists don’t care about normal working hours. He fiddles with his prosthetic in the middle of the night all the time. 

He goes back later, after the fuss has died down. He had to leave his apartment and his job, with his face all over the news, dredging up the mess of the knighting ceremony and restarting the hunt for his head. (How did he get an apartment and a job when he was the most notorious killer in the city, you ask? He shaved his facial hair and nobody recognized him. He accidentally ran into Todd in the street once and Todd was an asshole about it. And didn’t recognize him.) He doesn’t watch the interview with Ambrosius. 

Ambrosius has grown out his hair. 

This time, Ballister brings tranq shots, and leaves all the techs and guards slumped over on the floor while he rifles through their files. 

He finds what he’s looking for. He finds a whole lot more than he was expecting. He sits in the darkened lab until the first guard starts to wake, thinking about what he found. He steals all the files, deleting them as he goes. He doesn’t tell anyone. He doesn’t tell you, either. 

He never trusts another word the Director or the Institute says. 

For a while, he helps Nimona learn to control her shifts. First to shift into what she wants (they break into a zoo after hours and she shifts into every single one of them. (Where does a giant enclosed city get zoo animals, you ask? Don’t worry about it, that’s where.) Bal hasn’t laughed that hard in a long time), then to suppress shifts if there’s anyone else around. Not shifting leaves her drained and sullen. He makes her practice all the time, even when it’s just the two of them in the little abandoned tower near the Wall they move into. 

She’s maybe five or six when Ballister gives up on that. She shifts, and he scolds her. She throws a tantrum, and of course that involves more shifting. He checks that the blankets are still over the windows, that there’s no way anyone can see in. 

“Nimona, honey, shifting is dangerous,” he pleads. They’ve been lucky so far, but she’s just a kid, and she’s bound to lose control someday, unless he locks her up in the tower all the time. 

“But - I - have to!” she screams, little gorilla fists hitting the floor, then talons scrabbling at it. 

“Sometimes there are things you can’t do,” he says, carefully not thinking about himself, “No matter how much you want to.”

“But - it - hurtsssss!” she shrieks out of the beak of some sort of large bird. 

Ballister frowns. “It hurts?” he asks, “The shifting?” 

Nimona must sense the change in his tone, because she’s a human again, her big eyes blurred with tears, her face still red with anger. “Not shifting,” she says on a sob. 

A horrible little ball starts to grow in Ballister’s throat. “It hurts when you don’t shift?” he rasps out. 

Nimona screws up her face, calmer now that he’s listening to her, but her breath still hitching. “It doesn’t hurt hurt,” she says. “It feels - bad. Not like scraping my knee, or the dreams. Not like eating pineapple. But bad.” (She has absolutely horrid nightmares. She screams until his desperate efforts finally wake her, and then she sobs herself back to sleep in his arms. He has his suspicions about where the dreams come from, and he’s working on a sleep drug that’s safe for her. She’s also allergic to pineapple, it makes her sick to her stomach. He doesn’t think about where he learned how to monitor allergies.) 

Ballister sits on the ground next to her and opens his arms. She crawls into them and rests her head on his chest. He presses his face into her long red hair. The color had baffled him when she was born, nothing like any of the portraits at Ambrosius’s house or his memories of his parents. She turns into a snake and coils herself around his shoulders. 

“Ok,” he says. 

She hisses an inquisitive sound into his ear. 

“Ok,” he says again. “Shift all you want inside the tower. If you need to shift somewhere else, tell me and I’ll help you get somewhere safe.” 

The snake turns into a dog, wriggling in his arms and licking his face frantically. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughs. “The rules about keeping our mouths to ourselves still apply.” To punctuate this point, he grabs her and presses loud kisses wherever he can reach. She turns into a squirrel and scampers out of his reach, laughing along. 

He thinks, I’ll keep her safe, even if I have to tear down the whole kingdom to do it. 

~O~

Ambrosius doesn’t know any of this. From his perspective, Bal killed the Queen and ran off after Ambrosius chopped off his arm. No one knows anything about him. Ambrosius tries to remind himself that no one had found a body either, but that comfort is colder and colder as the years wear on. He doesn’t know what to do, what to think. He’s basically a robot for weeks after the knighting ceremony. They don’t let him help with the search, and he doesn’t argue. He isn’t sure if he wants them to find Ballister or not, but they never do. 

Then, years later, Ballister breaks into the Institute labs. The security cameras have a good picture of him, when Ambrosius manages to hack into them (he doesn’t want to see the look on the Director’s face if he asks to see the tape). Ballister looks older, more than just a few years should account for. He’s dressed in all black, with a cape swirling around him as he flees the scene of his crime. His hair is longer. His beard is gone. His face is set in furious concentration. 

He’s alive. 

And his right arm is made of wires and cables rather than flesh. 

A reporter asks him about it, while he’s out on Institute business. He gets out something about how Ballister should come in so he can face justice, but he’s heard what the other knights are saying. Would there be justice, or a quiet murder after an ‘escape attempt’? He tries to tell himself that he and the Director could ensure a fair trial. All he really wants is to know why Bal did it. Was killing the Queen his plan all along? Was any of their friendship or courtship real? 

Then Ballister breaks in again. This time he leaves a trail of unconscious scientists and knights in his wake. The Director confirms that he’s stolen some data, but no one knows how much, or to what purpose. 

There are more break-ins, at Institute labs and storehouses across the kingdom. Sometimes Ballister takes data, sometimes medical supplies, sometimes lab supplies. There’s always destruction. People die. The Director tells him that the death of one of the scientists will set their defense research back ten years. 

At first, the Director tries to keep him out of it, either out of respect for his prior relationship with Ballister, or not trusting him to do the right thing. Then Ballister robs a bank, and the people clamor for the descendant of Gloreth to protect them. 

The first time he sees Ballister face to face, they’re locking swords while another lab burns behind them. Ballister wins. Ambrosius doesn’t know if he held back, but Ballister sure didn’t. Ambrosius has never seen Ballister that angry. Was this the face hiding behind Ballister’s earnest smile all along? 

The next time they meet, Ballister is like stone, unstoppable, impenetrable, and cold. He barely speaks. He takes down every single knight the Institute sends, and only Ambrosius even slows him down. 

Rinse, repeat. 

Before Ambrosius knows it, it’s been fifteen years since he was knighted. It isn’t anything like he thought it would be. Everyone acts like his whole job is to be Ballister’s nemesis. He hardly ever gets to help people directly, like he used to. None of the other knights talk to him. The Director only calls him to her office to lecture him on his duties and how he’s failing at them. His skin care routine now involves covering the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and he keeps his hair long even though it’s against regulation because washing it is the only pleasant sensation in his life sometimes. All his happy memories are tainted by Ballister’s betrayal. 

Then Ambrosius meets Ballister’s new sidekick. 

The first time she shows up, Ballister clearly didn’t invite her. Ambrosius nearly catches them because Ballister is distracted by yelling at a pink-haired teenager in some sort of chainmail tunic. 

It hurts, a little, because he’s clearly worried about her. He used to worry about Ambrosius like that, when Ambrosius fought the other trainees who were cruel to Ballister. 

Then the kid turns into a dragon. 

Is this who Ballister would rather care about? Rather spend his time with? This is the life he chose over Ambrosius? 

The destruction is worse than usual. Civilians are too close. A little kid nearly gets crushed, but she picks up a sword and fends the dragon off all by herself. Ambrosius feels another stab of fury for Ballister. The Queen wanted to accept more common children into the Institute, but because of his actions, that little girl will never have the chance to become a knight. 

The Director calls Ambrosius to her office, and for the first time in years, she doesn’t yell at him. She takes him down into the Institute archives, where the really old scrolls are. She shows him a picture of the dragon, the same dragon, fighting Gloreth. While he’s wrestling with the idea of a thousand year old monster, she sends the rest of the guards away, and tells him something else. 

“The files about it must have been among the first he destroyed,” the Director says, her voice hard. “He didn’t want us to know what he had taken. If I hadn’t been read into the project, we might have no idea what we’re up against.” 

“Ballister took the monster…from the Institute?” Ambrosius asks. His mind has gone fuzzy. 

“It doesn’t die,” the Director says, taking him by the shoulders and shaking lightly. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him. “When she realized she couldn’t kill it, Gloreth sealed it away. We’ve been trying to destroy it for a thousand years, and Blackheart has Let. It. Out.” 

If Ambrosius could remember feeling warm, he might go cold. “But…if he’s had it all these years, why hasn’t he used it against us before now?” Maybe Ballister doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it had pretended to be that teenaged girl it had first appeared to be. You saw it shapeshift, he thinks, You saw Ballister see it shapeshift. Did he look surprised to you? 

The Director shakes her head. “We couldn’t destroy it, but we could keep it small. He’s probably been biding his time all these years, waiting for it to grow up enough to be really dangerous.” 

Something about that sentence seems off to Ambrosius, but before he can think about it too much, the Director catches his eyes and holds them. “It is imperative for the safety of the kingdom that we contain the monster. It cannot be allowed to hurt anyone else.” 

Ambrosius has never tried to talk to Ballister directly before. He’s played that first fight over and over again in his mind. Ballister had frozen, at first. So had Ambrosius, if he’s honest with himself. He’d wanted to beg Ballister to come back, to promise that they could fix it. He must not have phrased it well. Ballister had been so angry, and eventually Ambrosius had given up on words. But this time is different, he tells himself. Ballister must see that this is bigger than petty theft and vandalism. He didn't want the monster there. Maybe he knows it's dangerous. Maybe he regrets taking it. Maybe he needs help getting rid of it. 

He's still skulking around the outer ring looking for black capes (being a full time nemesis leaves a lot of time for skulking), when the call comes in. He's only too glad to abandon his original idea for the more elegant plan of waiting until all the other knights are moaning on the floor or evacuating the burning manufactory and he and Ballister have locked swords to lean in and hiss "Nachos?" 

Ballister looks at him like he's lost his mind. Then his monster crashes through the manufactory roof with a hunk of machinery in her claws, Ballister disarms (Ambrosius mentally winces, but he's used to it by now) him in three easy moves. There's a cascading crash as the monster (presumably) drops her prize. When the debris settles, both of them are gone. 

Ambrosius goes to the Antlered Serpent as soon as he's done debriefing with the Director. She's furious. The scientists have been working around the clock to produce something to stop the monster, and yet the knights, especially Ambrosius, failed to so much as slow it down. She tells Ambrosius that if he can’t recapture it cleanly he’ll have to start the containment process in the field. She describes enough of the process that he promises to catch it next time just so he can get out of her office before he vomits. He knows it’s a monster, but what if it tries to look like a person again? Can he do that to someone? (Can he even do it to a monster?)

He has to talk to Ballister. 

He sits in the Antlered Serpent all night, trying desperately to stay awake. He drinks coffee until he’s shaking. He doesn’t order any nachos. Thousands of possible conversations swim through his thoughts, but none of the opening words are right. The sun starts to rise. He thinks maybe he would wait forever rather than go back to the Institute, but the owner kicks him out when they close. 

What’s he supposed to do now? 

Only his knight training stops him from falling over when an arm snakes out of an alley and drags him in as he passes. He twists, slamming the assailant against the alley wall, but they dart out of his hold. His sword is drawn before he recognizes the facial hair peeking out of the shadow of the cloak’s hood. 

“Ballister?” 

Ballister’s expression doesn’t change, but he nods to a set of shabby folding chairs set next to a dumpster. There’s a take out container on one of them. “I didn’t want this conversation to be overheard,” he says, voice hard. 

Ambrosius hesitates for a moment, but it’s too late to back out. It’s been too late for a very long time. The sound of his sword sliding back into its scabbard scares a flock of birds off a nearby roof. He sits in the empty chair, his armor sounding like destruction in the silence of the early morning. Ballister huffs, just like he used to do when Todd said something annoying, and hands Ambrosius the take out container. While Ballister is settling into the other chair (no less noisily, Ambrosius thinks smugly), he opens it. 

“Nachos?” he asks, a little incredulous. 

“Don’t worry, there’s no olives,” Ballister sneers, “It’s not poisoned either.” 

Ambrosius is pretty sure that if Ballister was going to kill him, he’d have done it years ago. His stomach chooses that moment to remember that he’s had nothing but coffee all day. He eats a nacho. It tastes like better times. He flips the lid closed again. 

“It’s about your sidekick,” he says. 

“My daughter. I thought it might be,” Ballister says. His jaw is clenched tight. 

“Your what?” Ambrosius asks, thrown. 

“My daughter,” Ballister says. His eyes narrow. Ambrosius has a flash of how Ballister’s eyes used to look, wide and gentle and kind. He wonders if the warmth in them was only ever in his head. “If you can’t call her that, we have nothing to talk about.” 

Before Ballister can get up, Ambrosius says, “Your daughter then. Ballister.” He has to stop. The single nacho feels like worms in his stomach. Ballister’s daughter. Gloreth. That thing made Ballister see it as his daughter? 

Ballister doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t leave either. 

Once Ambrosius has pulled himself together, he manages, “They want me to kill her.” 

“You tried to kill her today,” Ballister says, voice cold. “Is killing children what heroes do these days?” 

Maybe if he’d slept sometime in the last 36 hours he could have stopped himself. Maybe if he hadn’t just sat through the Director explaining in exquisite detail what heroes are expected to do to monsters, he could have stayed silent. Maybe if Ballister wasn’t sitting here looking both like a stranger and like the man he’d once thought he’d see across the breakfast table every morning, he could have kept his words in the back of his throat where they belong. 

But all those things are true. So he says, “How would you know? You never even tried to be a hero.” 

He half expects Ballister to fly off the handle, but instead Ballister pins him with that icy stare, mouth tight. There are wrinkles around it that weren’t there 15 years ago. He wonders if they’re smile lines or frown lines. 

“The Institute was never going to let me be a hero,” he says, as if it’s a fact of life. As if it was carved into the stone of the Wall. As if he’s raged about it, cried about it, examined it from every angle, and finally accepted it. Fire is hot, water is wet, there are monsters at the gates, and Ballister was never going to be allowed to be a hero. 

It makes Ambrosius want to punch him. Who had accepted him into the Institute in the first place? Who had spent hours lecturing him on noble social etiquette even when he continued to make mistakes? Who had excitedly selected his second favorite sword to gift to the new trainee? “You can’t blame the Institute for how your life turned out! You made the choice to kill the Queen!” 

Ballister is on his feet so quickly the chair falls backward with a crash. “You really believe that? After everything, after all this time, you really think I killed the Queen?” 

Ambrosius stands too, the nachos scattering at his feet. His exhausted brain is sharpening with adrenaline, but everything seems to be moving a little too fast, as if his eyes are on a half second delay and his mind is trying to compensate. “I was standing right next to you Bal, I saw you kill her.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Ballister snarls. “And if I recall correctly, you weren’t standing right next to me. I very distinctly remember a sword’s length of distance, specifically, between your hand and my arm.” 

Ballister has never said anything about his arm. In all this time, all those meetings over flashing blades, he’s never thrown this at Ambrosius. Maybe he knew it would land true. Maybe all those fights were Ballister playing with his food. 

Ambrosius can’t stop himself. He looks at Ballister’s metal arm. He can’t look away from it. It’s oddly beautiful, with the pre-dawn light glinting off of it. Each finger is individually articulated, all the joints perfect and sanded smooth, at odds with the scuffed and scratched metal of the forearm. He wants to examine every inch of it. He wants to smash it to pieces. He wants to have never touched anything sharper than a butter knife. 

“I’m so…sorry.” He doesn’t mean to say that either. His mouth and his eyes have both betrayed him. Well, they’re in good company. “For your arm.” 

He doesn’t realize Ballister is moving until his back hits the other side of the alley. Dimly, he registers that he should be afraid. Ballister was always the better fighter, but Ambrosius was no slouch, he could defend himself. But with his current state of distraction and sleep deprivation, he doesn’t stand a chance. The fear never comes. 

Ballister is pressed against him, closer than he’s been in more than a decade. Their armor clinks softly where it rubs together. His face is so close that Ambrosius can make out every wrinkle, every gray hair. It hurts like a kick to the gut that he didn’t get to see them grow in. Time stops for just a second, just long enough for something in Ambrosius, something he’d thought long since starved to death, to wake up and roar its desperation. It’s all he can do not to reach out and pull Ballister closer. 

Ballister wouldn’t be receptive. He’s lost his icy calm, the way he hasn’t since that first fight. With his face twisted in fury, he somehow looks younger, just the way Ambrosius remembers him. 

“I don’t care about the arm!” he yells. It seems to echo between them, no place for the sound to escape to. “After all this time, that’s all you have to say? That you’re sorry about my arm?” 

“I am sorry!” Ambrosius yells back. He doesn’t mean to be yelling, they’re close enough that he could whisper, but the words come out at a yell anyway. “I hurt you, and I did it without even thinking! You! It shouldn’t matter what you’d done! I thought I’d killed you!” He’s going to cry. He hasn’t cried in years, and he’s going to break that streak in front of this man. Well. Better Ballister than anyone else, he supposes. 

Ballister makes a sound, like a roar of rage stifled by a sob. “You should have known me,” he says, quieter but raw, like it hurts his throat on the way out. “You should have known I wouldn’t do something like that.” 

Ambrosius barely processes the words, because Bal (and it is Bal now) slumps forward and buries his face in Ambroius’s shoulder, and Ambrosius’s arms come up on instinct (oh how he wishes he didn’t have instincts) to wrap around him, draw him as close as he can get.

His lungs are too tight. It’s been so long since anyone touched him, and it’s Bal, his best friend, the man he loves (still, he has never been able to deny in the privacy of his own mind that he loves him still), the person he has missed like a limb. Maybe they both left a part of themselves on that arena floor. 

Bal’s hair is as soft as ever when Ambrosius curls into him. The gray glints in the weak sunlight like silver threads. Bal’s breath puffs warm, wet, and ragged against his throat. Somehow the flesh hand ended up wrapped tight around his upper arm, the metal one tangled in his hair. He thinks he might explode. All this time he’s been a keg of blasting powder, and he hadn’t even known Bal is a match. 

Then the words trickle in. “Ballister,” he says, slowly enough to let the thought finish forming. “Are you saying you didn’t kill the Queen?” 

Bal goes completely still. Then he slowly withdraws his hand from Ambrosius’s hair, so careful not to snag any of the strands. He pulls back. His eyes are red but the fury has drained out of him. He looks as tired as Ambrosius feels, worn down to the bones. 

“No, Ambrosius. I didn’t.” 

It’s been so long since anyone has used his first name, he’d nearly forgotten what it sounded like. Ballister was always the only one who did. He used to love the way it sounded on Bal’s tongue, the way his accent hugged the last syllable. It doesn’t sound like it used to, but it hurts all the same. Not as much as everything else, though. 

Early on, he’d doubted. It hadn’t made any sense. Ballister loved the Queen, maybe not quite like a mother or quite like a goddess, but something like the two combined. Or he’d seemed to. He’d seemed excited to be a knight, open and affectionate to Ambrosius, kind to the street kids who sometimes came up to him on patrol. A years-long plot of deceit and infiltration culminating in assassination didn’t seem his style. And yet, the Queen was dead. His image of Ballister could never fit what he’d done, but he’d seen him do it. Therefore, it was his image that was incorrect. 

Wasn’t it? 

But he’d never managed to come up with a motive. 

Ballister holds his gaze, but his eyes are full of resignation. He doesn’t expect Ambrosius to believe him. 

Does Ambrosius believe him?

It would be insane to take the word of a man who has spent the last fifteen years terrorizing the populace, defying the Institute, and trampling the peace and order and safety that the Institute provides. It would be insane to take the word of a man he hasn’t spoken to in a decade and a half. It would be insane to take the word of a villain. 

But Gloreth help him, Ambrosius does believe him. 

His legs abruptly decide not to hold his weight, and he slides down the wall to sit on the ground. “But - why?” It’s not the question he wants to ask. He doesn’t know what question he wants to ask. Gloreth, if he accepts this as true, what does it push out of alignment? What parts of his worldview does he have to sacrifice to make room for Ballister being innocent? (If he’s innocent then Ambrosius cut off his arm for nothing.) 

“I don’t know why,” Ballister says. He hasn’t moved, and probably Ambrosius should feel vulnerable crouching at his feet. If it were anyone else, probably he would. 

“You don’t know why?” Ambrosius snaps. “It’s been fifteen years, and you didn’t investigate?” 

He doesn’t look away from the patch of concrete between Ballister’s boots, but he can hear the frown in his voice. “Of course I investigated. I know who, and I know how. But she didn’t exactly leave records of her thought process.” 

That snaps him out of it. The back of his head bounces off the wall, but the pain is nothing to the need to see Ballister’s face. “You have records? Proof? You could clear your name?” 

He’s seen Ballister frown plenty in the last fifteen years. Some were furious, some were intent, some spoke to a kind of focus that Ambrosius had to forget about until after Ballsiter had inevitably won the duel and Ambrosius was alone in his dorm. This frown isn’t what he’s used to seeing. It looks confused, unsure, lost like Ballister had been when he’d first started training. 

“What use would that be?” 

“Bal,” he coughs, the name sticking in his throat. He’s been saying it a lot, enjoying how it feels in his mouth, even if it hurts on the way up his throat. “Ballister. If we can prove your innocence, you can come back. Be a knight again, a hero.” Be with me, he doesn’t say. 

Ballister takes a long, slow breath. It whistles through his nose. He always did get sinus problems in the spring, Ambrosius thinks wildly. Ballister blows the breath out through his mouth, just as slow. Then he says, “I should have known this conversation was a mistake.” 

Ambrosius flinches like he’s been slapped. “What?” His legs are a little steadier now, so he pushes himself to his feet. Ballister steps back, putting distance between them. 

“I will never go back to the Institute,” he says. 

Ambrosius waits a minute for him to go on, but he doesn’t. “Why not?” It seems like a reasonable question. Bal had been happy training to be a knight, hadn’t he? He’d been the best of all of them. The last fifteen years have certainly proven that. 

Ballister scrubs his hands over his face. “I don’t know if I have the energy to take you through it all,” he says, and his voice sounds like he honestly is just tired, rather than trying to keep secrets. 

“Can you…give me the quick version?” Gloreth, anything. This has made no sense since the moment that sword turned green, and Ambrosius hadn’t even known how much he needed to understand until it had his chest in a vice. 

Ballister’s laugh sounds strangled, not at all like the restrained chuckle he used to have. Ambrosius thinks he might like it, under other circumstances. “I’m not sure there is a quick version.” But he rights his folding chair and sits down, motioning to the other one. Ambrosius takes it. “Might as well start with the proof,” he says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Ambrosius’s armor doesn’t let him access his pockets. He’s a little jealous. 

When Ballister passes over the device with a video queued, he has to stop himself from grabbing it like a starving person might grab bread. Instead he takes it carefully and presses play. 

“Where did you get this?” he asks quietly when it’s over. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He’s feeling a lot of things, or nothing. All the emotions are crowding together and preventing any from getting through, like commuters boarding the subway. 

“From the squire,” Ballister says, taking the phone back. “I needed to know what had happened, even if I already knew it wouldn’t change anything.” 

“Why wouldn’t it change anything?” It’s hard to get the words out. He’s feeling things now. He’s feeling that Ballister could have come back to him right at the start and he’d chosen not to. 

Ballister looks at him for a long time, or at least it feels like it. A thousand years, maybe. Or fifteen. Then he seems to come to a decision, breathes deep again, and says, “Because I already knew I was pregnant.” 

The words don’t make sense, like a bad translation from another language, and then they slot into place. “You were - you -” It’s hard to get his head between his knees with the armor on, but he manages. The roaring in his ears doesn’t stop, but the edges of his vision start to fade back in. 

“Yeah,” Ballister says, “That’s how I took it, too.” 

“What happened?” he chokes out. He wishes he could take the words back. He really doesn’t want to know. He can’t bear not knowing. 

Ballister shrugs. “You tried to kill her.” 

A wave of horror swamps him, like a thunderstorm rolling over the Wall. He gags on the single nacho, on having hurt his family again. Why does he keep doing that? He shouldn’t be allowed to have family. If he keeps this up, he won’t. 

"She’s our daughter?" Oh, this is going to come back to haunt him. If he has nightmares about killing their kid before he even met her, will they replace some of the old nightmares about cutting off Ballister’s arm? Or will it be cumulative? 

Ballister makes a noise, but Ambrosius can't look up to see what his face is doing. The nachos are spread out beneath his feet like disposable toy soldiers. There aren't any olives. 

“She’s my daughter,” he says, firmly. “Genetics be damned.” 

Is that worse? To discover he has a child, fifteen years too late to be of any use to anyone, and then be immediately denied any claim on her? By the man he still loves, the man he had wanted to raise children with back when he saw the world with rose-tinted glasses rather than bleak fluorescent clarity? 

He knows this isn’t really a defense, but he says it anyway. “If I contributed half her DNA-” Oh Gloreth, if he contributed half her DNA then she’s a descendant of Gloreth too. Is that why Bal never told anyone about her? He could almost forgive that. 

But no, Ballister immediately shakes his head. “You didn’t.” 

Ambrosius shoots him an incredulous glance over one arm. “Come on, I know you didn’t cheat on me.” 

Ballister makes a noise again, this one more like a strangled laugh. There was a time when Ambrosius had known all Bal's noises, when they were as familiar and comforting as birdsong outside his window. He wants to hoard them, catalog every single one, compare them to the old sounds. He keeps his head between his knees. “You can believe regicide but not that I’d cheat on you?” 

“Well, did you?” Ambrosius hasn’t. Not for all these years, even though their relationship was clearly over and his parents have given up on him contributing to the bloodline the usual way and started talking about surrogates. Probably they’ll want to raise their hypothetical grandchild, since he’ll be too busy losing sword fights with Ballister. 

There’s a pause. “No,” Ballister says, sullen. Then, “She doesn’t have any of my DNA either. That doesn’t make me any less her father.” 

Ambrosius isn’t going to argue that, but he does say, “Where did she come from, then?” Parts of his conversation with the Director creep back into his thoughts. She’d said the Institute had her. Oh no, what if some action of Ambrosius’s (the searches? He could have pretended to search the city and led the knights in the wrong direction but he hadn’t. But how was he to know which direction was wrong?) had caused Ballister to lose the baby and then he’d snuck back into the Institute for something (to talk to Ambrosius?) and found baby Nimona there and in his grief, decided to raise her as his own? 

No, that’s a soap opera. Also, why would the Institute have a baby sitting around? 

Ballister sighs, long and noisy. “I thought she was ours, biologically I mean. She didn’t look like either of us, but what do I care about the chances of someone who looks like me and someone who looks like you producing a red haired, light skinned baby? She’s my daughter, and I was too busy trying not to get caught while keeping her fed and dry to worry much about her looks.” He pulls in another long, noisy breath. Ambrosius thinks he could sit up, but maybe this conversation is better had without eye contact. 

“Then, she started shifting.” There’s a rough sound, like Ballister is rubbing his flesh hand through his facial hair. “I knew what the Institute, what you, would think about her, the life she’d have to lead to stay safe, to keep her secret. I’d have done anything to spare her that. But she is who she is, and I wouldn’t change her.” His voice is laced with fondness. It’s as familiar as the ache in his muscles after a hard day training, and the pain of it feels good in the same way. He’s glad Ballister hasn’t been alone. “I don’t know why I was so sure the Institute would have information on people like her. I’d never been allowed in the labs. But if they did know anything, that’s where it would be. So I broke in-”

“I saw the security tape,” Ambrosius blurts out. 

Silence. Then, “Oh?” 

“From the first break in,” Ambrosius clarifies. “You looked-” his voice cracks. He coughs. “I didn’t know, before that, that you had survived.” He used to have the most vivid waking nightmares, about Ballister’s corpse rotting in some back alley or forgotten basement, unidentifiable except for the missing right arm bones. He’d been afraid both that his love did give them some psychic connection and those visions were because Ballister was dead, and that they didn’t and he’d grow old and die without ever knowing. His mother taught him some grounding exercises, and he’d stopped letting the visions take over. Ballister was alive. He had to be. And then he saw the security tape. Ballister was alive! But he was as lost to Ambrosius as he ever had been. 

He wants to demand to know why Bal never tried to talk to him back then, but he knows the answer. Would he have believed him? He’d never stopped believing, deep down in the very bottom of his heart, that Bal wouldn’t do something like that, but that was exactly why he could never give it any weight. It had been made very clear to him that he couldn’t trust his own judgment. If he was asked to choose between the love of his life, who he may have never known at all, and the life that was still shiny around the edges, what would he have done? He doesn’t know, so he stays quiet. 

Ballister is quiet for long enough that he thinks about raising his head to look, then says, “You didn’t kill me,” in the quiet, low, rumbling voice that he always thought no one ever heard but him. Maybe he uses it with Nimona. 

With a cough, Ballister says, “We’re getting off topic.” 

“I see what you mean about there not being a quick version,” Ambrosius says. His neck hurts, so he sits up. The roaring in his ears doesn’t come back, but one look at Ballister is too much for his heart. He looks resolutely at the wall across the alley. 

“This is the important part, probably,” Ballister says. 

“You did find her in the Institute, didn’t you?” He remembers the Director telling him just the day before that Ballister had stolen the shapeshi - Nimona - from the Institute. That doesn’t fit what Ballister is telling him. Who does he believe? He forces himself to be skeptical. This whole mess happened because he’d blindly believed too many people, and gone into a tailspin when they conflicted. 

“Yeah,” Ballister says, biting off the words like he could crush them between his molars. He sighs. “It turns out they had a lot of information on her.” 

Did the files talk about what you had to do (what they did) to contain someone like Nimona? Was Ballister forced to read about the uncaring, impersonal torture of his infant daughter? Ambrosius doesn’t let himself think about it. He sort of understands why Ballister might blow up a lab or two after that. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ambrosius sees Ballister working his jaw to contain his anger, just like he had when Todd and the others went after him and he knew he couldn’t do anything about it. His voice is low and defeated when he says, “I don’t know why the Director did it. This can’t have been her plan. Maybe she hadn’t come up with the sword idea yet. Maybe they needed an expendable test subject. Maybe she thought the pregnancy would kill me. They’d done it before with that result. Maybe she intended to use Nimona for some purpose and she switched my sword so I’d be in a convenient dungeon. Maybe the scientists acted alone. Probably I’ll never know. It isn’t important in the long run.”

Isn’t important? How could Ballister look at the event that changed his life, stripped his hopes and dreams away, left him alone and injured and pregnant and on the run, that took him from Ambrosius, and say it isn’t important? 

Ballister huffs a little laugh, just like he used to, nearly silent so no one but Ambrosius could hear. “I guess I can confirm one of my suspicions. That medical exam a few weeks before the knighting ceremony. It wasn’t…weirdly invasive for the rest of you, was it?” 

Ambrosius curls his hands, wishing the gloves weren’t there so he could dig his nails into the meat of his palms. He wants to hurt something, even if it’s only himself. “No.” 

Ballister nods grimly. “That’s when they did it, then.” 

Why? Why would anyone do that? He never liked that he couldn’t come up with a motive for Ballister. Is there a motive for the Director in this turn of events? 

“She’s been leaning pretty hard on you being a commoner and reaching above your station and putting us all in danger,” he says, slowly. Is that a motive? It’s absurd. She saw how hard Bal worked just like the rest of them. She knew how good he was. Would she really do any of this? Would Ballister do what she said he’d done? Ballister had proof for the sword being switched. Did he have proof for this too? “You deleted all the files about Nimona.” 

“I stole them,” Ballister corrects. “And then I tracked down every scientist who had ever been a part of her project, and I killed them. I destroyed the labs, anywhere there might be evidence, anywhere they might try to hold her. I’ll keep doing it.” 

So Ballister really had killed those scientists. Some of the deaths attributed to him couldn’t have been part of the original project, they were barely out of the Academy. Had they been collateral? Did they know something? Did Ballister care? 

“Why are you telling me this?” It scrapes in his throat, catching on every day that Ballister hadn’t told him this. “What do you want me to do?” 

For the first time in his retelling, Ballister catches his eyes and holds them. “Because you tried to kill her today.” His eyes slip away, never letting anything tether him to Ambrosius for long. “And I thought that if you knew, knew that she was just a kid, you might not kill her next time.” He looks up at the slowly lightening sky. Has this whole conversation fit in the space it takes the sun to clear the walls? It feels like this conversation has stretched forever, back to the beginning of time. Like this conversation has been happening in the background for their entire lives, just waiting for this alley, these rusted chairs, this dawn. “Stupid of me, I suppose.” 

“Of course I’m not going to kill her!” Ambrosius bursts out. “I’ve been clinging to hope all night that you might have some way for me to not have to kill her!” He has, hasn’t he. That’s what this whole thing with the nachos was about. He knew he couldn’t do it and he wanted an excuse. But there isn’t an excuse, not really. It’s the same question he’s been asking for fifteen fucking years. 

What will he choose; Ballister, with all the moral uncertainty and broken trust that comes with him? Or his duty, and all the moral uncertainty and broken trust that comes with the Institute? He’d thought, once, that he could have both. Now he knows for sure that he can’t, that they’re opposing chess players and he can only wear one color. A knight can only have one king. 

If he chooses his duty, this legacy that will crush him under its weight, he’ll have to admit that he’s a coward. 

If he chooses Ballister, the man he loves, the teenager he never got to raise, he’ll have to admit that he made the wrong choice fifteen years ago. 

Ambrosius Goldenloin is a lot of things, but he isn’t a coward, and he isn’t afraid to admit to his mistakes. 

He asks, again, “What do you want me to do?”

[cyberdragoninfinity]

so the thing with the Three Pure Nobles' routes in Tag Force 6, they all are effectively the same set up (same set of WRGP duels, same 'endgame' (i.e. the Ark appearing)) but their Team 5D's opponents in the last round are all different, and then once you GET on the Ark Cradle these three just start saying the most harrowing shit at you and you can't leave and it's been in my brain for like 6+ months

they each make it very very clear to you how aware they are that theyre like.... not people, they're mechanical Things born from a moment of Agonizing Despair. Created by someone else.

^I wonder if him talking in first-person pronouns when describing the past is a fan translation choice or if this really is a situation of him being so distressed that Aporia's memories actually feel like something tangible and real he was There For. 8( (since it's established that Emperors learning theyre parts of someone else is a fairly recent happening--those memories were sealed off in their programming prior to Primo getting ripped in half)

Anyway with Primo you see how this burdened knowledge of being built from Literally Some Guy's Trauma is bleeding into his entire belief system (which is already kind of scrombled to begin with)

GOD. GOD!!! I feel like too often I see people characterize Primo and his cohorts as 1:1 copies of Aporia's various life stages (or literally them having been once human and "made" into robots later,) and/or as beings completely separated from Aporia entirely, and neither of those takes are really all that correct!! The Emperors are more like slightly off photocopies of Aporia, gijinkas of the worst moments of his life. They're not him, BUT, his memories are what made them, they're vessels for carrying his despair, and Aporia's themes and motifs are still baked into them at the very core. I've gone off before about Apo's ouroboros motif and this is one of the rare times YOU SEE IT SHOW UP WITH PRIMO TOO!!! IT'S CYCLICAL SUFFERING ALL THE WAY DOWN WITH THESE GUYS

You also get this really moderately distressing glimpse into how dedicated to the Emperor's 'God' (Z-one. Just Some Guy.) Primo is (and also how he considers his sword to be a great power Z-one has blessed him with, which i just think is cool. (^: archangel moment !)

he is SO hyped about purveying God's will with you!!! Immediately after this is when he starts revealing he's ALSO really hyped about getting to finally die in the name of Iliaster's mission, which I talked about in my other post about this route.

aahhaha...that's real cool buddy <:)....... <8,)

Anyway since this story event starts with Primo just killing Yusei in front of Akiza, she's then apparently approaching fast on Primo's location with the rest of the Signers, and it's all but stated that you WILL be taking care of that with him.

JUST. HIS GNARLY LITTLE SMILE SPRITE GETS ME HERE SO BAD. THE CACKLING. guy who was programmed to go to the ends of the earth for another man's cause. guy who fully believes in inflicting the despair that he's made of upon his enemies (suffer just as I have <;/3) mechanical avenging angel. God's specialest living weapon. there is NOTHING in TF6 that indicates finishing Primo's heart events will culminate this. he's so fucked up. it rules

[yuri-is-online]

Dark knight is the most romantic job, huh? Maybe you should elaborate 👀

Oh well if I must~

notes: contains spoilers (very vague but yk still there) for the Dark Knight job quests, Shadowbringers role quests etc. Please play critically acclaimed mmrpg Final Fantasy XIV (now on xbox) with a free trial I am so normal about it and I promise you will be too. I need someone to grind gemstones with next expansion it only makes you want to die a little I swear.

I want to start by bringing something up I don't see discussed a lot (if at all) in discussion of the Dark Knight questline, and that is the background music used. When dramatic or poignant moments occur in other questlines, even the other two that were introduced in Heavesnward (machinist and astrologian), the cutscenes stick to the default/expansion appropriate sad music. This doesn't happen in the DRK questline though, instead the sound designers chose to play Dragonsong during what are some of the most emotionally charged moments in the whole game, and generally stick to the Heavesnward background music even through the Stormblood cut-scenes. The choice of Dragonsong is really what makes me think of the job as "romantic" more than anything; the song is in a lamentation of lost love and trust between dragon and man certainly, but you could also apply some of those lyrics to the separation between the Unsundered and the Warrior of Light, or the separation between the warrior's darker half and their willingness to shoulder their duty.

This musical choice becomes especially clear when you speak to Count Edmont at the end of the Stormblood job quests, as a very specific part of the song begins to play as the Warrior of Light is asked to reflect on what could have possibly caused their heart to break and crack their jobstone:

Not that I point this out to suggest it's cannon the Warrior had romantic feelings for any one person in particular, but to hammer home exactly what the Moogles try to tell you:

Dark Knights get their power from their love; that ugly, hard work, painful, your heart is trapped in a rib cage desperate to leave type of bleeding love that is desperate for somewhere to go and doesn't have it anymore.

"Love is grief with nowhere to go." Is a quote that can more or less apply to every Dark Knight we are introduced to in game. Fray is literally dead, we never truly meet him at all, Sidurgu had already lost his whole tribe only to then lose Fray and their master, Granson lost his wife, and Emet Selch... well what hadn't he lost? And they are all angry, burdened by their grief, and desperate for somewhere to put their love because the people they want to give it to are gone.

idk I just think the concept of taking your love for your fellow travelers and using it as a focus to overcome the worst parts of yourself (from your doubts to your anger and resentment) so you can use all of those emotions as fuel to protect them, even from themselves is just so romantic to me. You don't have to be happy about it to do the right thing, and you don't need to be nice to be good. Love isn't always cute, sometimes it is very ugly and raw and I love when stories play with that.

So yeah. The most romantic job. I could get more specific but it has been a long time since I played through these quests ;-; I should fix that

[hummingbird-of-light]

Round 2: First story for @badthingshappenbingo ~

Title: Getting To Know Each Other

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)

Character(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott, Original Alien Character(s)

Relationship(s): /

Rating: T

Words: 2,036

Prompt: Cave In

Warnings: Accidents, Earthquakes, Blood and Injury

(You can also find this story on AO3)

~ Getting To Know Each Other ~

Robert "Robbie" Scott didn't know what hit him at first when, out of nowhere, everything around him moved and people started screaming.

His eyes, which he had closed only a moment before to relax on the subway after a long day at work, quickly opened and before he could grab hold of anything, he was thrown around and to the ground.

A pain shot through his body when he hit the floor and he gasped, startled.

The shaking didn't stop and only a second later Robbie realized what was going on.

An earthquake!

He had been warned that there was an increased risk of seismic activity on the planet he had been sent to for an assignment, but he had also been promised that it was rare at this time of year.

Apparently the company he was working for had been wrong.

Robbie cupped his hands over his head to protect himself from any falling rumble and pressed himself firmly to the ground.

He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to God that this wasn't the end.

When the world finally came to a halt again, the Scotsman realized that the subway had also stopped.

Of course it had. What else had he expected?

Robbie cautiously lifted his head and looked around. His heart sank and he felt his stomach twist.

Oh no. No, no, no.

In the light of the flickering lamps, he recognized pure chaos. People were lying all over the floor, some of them injured and bleeding. The ceiling above them was caved in and windows were broken.

But the worst thing Robbie realized was that what only the most horrible nightmares could be about, had actually happened.

They were buried alive!

~

It didn't take long for Robbie to get back on his feet. The arm he had fallen on hurt like hell and he was pretty sure that it was broken. From his seat at the back of the wagon, the Scotsman could see the locals helping each other up and talking to each other. Luckily, not too many people had been traveling by subway at the time of the day. It was already quite late, after all.

However, no one seemed to see or care about him.

Robbie had already noticed during his work over the last few days that the people on the planet were not particularly hospitable. They tolerated visitors from other species, but preferred not to interact with them too much.

The Scotsman's gaze fell on a female figure who was still lying on the floor and not moving. From her appearance, she did not appear to be of the native species.

The Trugeans were humanoid creatures with a very large head, yellow fur and four eyes. They also had six arms and a split tail.

The woman on the floor, however, had purple skin and snow-white hair, which she wore in a now rather disheveled bun. There were spots on her face and neck that shimmered in a darker shade of purple. Robbie discovered a laceration on her forehead.

Knowing full well that no one would probably take proper care of her, the Scotsman stepped over to the woman and shook her gently by her shoulder.

"Ma'am?"

At first, he got no answer. If he had known the best place to look for a pulse, Robbie would have felt for it, but he knew nothing about the violet figure's anatomy. So he shook her shoulder again, a little harder this time.

It took a second, but finally the woman moved her head, her face contorted in pain.

"Hey there, that's right. Look at me."

Gently, Robbie placed his hand on the woman's cheek and he gave her an encouraging smile as she opened her blue eyes flutteringly.

"Well done. How are ye feeling? Where does it hurt?"

For a moment, the woman stared at him with wide eyes and Robbie feared that she didn't understand him. Was her or his translation device broken?

But when the woman finally spoke, Robbie could understand her very well.

"You?"

His counterpart blinked in disbelief and Robbie cocked his head to one side questioningly. He laughed uncertainly as the woman sat up carefully and ran her long, pointed fingernails over his cheek, her eyes still wide.

"Ma'am?"

Only a few moments later, the lady shook her head.

"No... you're not... Pardon me... I've mistaken you for someone else."

Robbie just smiled gently as he helped the woman up so they could sit together on the long bench seat.

"That's all right. Ye've got quite a bump on yer head. Ye are allowed to be confused."

Irritated, the woman moved her hand to her forehead and felt the laceration.

"Does it hurt anywhere else?" Robbie asked worriedly, but his counterpart just shook her head.

"N-no... I don't think so. What... happened?"

Robbie sighed heavily as the woman looked around.

"There... There was an earthquake. The tunnel collapsed."

The woman nodded understandingly. She still didn't seem fully present.

Her eyes fell on a local woman who was holding her communicator in panic.

"But I have to call her! My little girl needs to know that Mommy is coming to pick her up from Daddy's soon. Otherwise she'll worry!"

"We don't have reception anyway."

"We can only wait for help."

Was Robbie mistaken or did the purple-skinned woman suddenly look incredibly disappointed and sad?

His heart tightened at the thought of a possible explanation.

"Do... ye have children too?"

Confused, the woman turned her head towards him, then laughed weakly.

"Me? No, no..." She hesitated for a moment and seemed to look Robbie up and down for a while. "And... You?"

There was something in her gaze that Robbie couldn't describe. It sent a strange shiver down his spine, but he put the feeling down to the predicament they were in.

He nodded.

"Aye. A son."

Again a shadow of disappointment flitted across the woman's face and Robbie suspected that perhaps she wanted children herself but couldn't have any. Perhaps it was envy.

"But luckily he's already all grown-up and studying. So... No child waiting for me at home."

His counterpart gave him a gentle smile. Maybe she was realizing that he was trying to cheer her up.

"I see."

They were silent for a while before Robbie realized they had no idea who the other was.

He quickly extended his intact arm and offered his hand to the lady.

"Oh, um, I'm Robert, by the way. But most people call me Robbie."

The alien woman eyed his hand for a moment and Robbie blushed, embarrassed. Was it a rude gesture on her home planet?

But eventually a smile crossed her lips and the woman took his hand and shook it.

"Miss Fa- Nomira. My... My name is Nomira."

Robbie nodded understandingly.

"What a bonnie name. Well... It's a pleasure to meet ye, Nomira."

"Oh, believe me, the pleasure is all mine."

~

Robbie didn't know how long they sat there waiting for help. He just did his best to keep Nomira happy and alive. She often showed signs of falling asleep and since Robbie didn't know if that was a good idea with her head injury, he tried to keep her awake.

Nomira asked him a lot of questions. She probably hadn't had much contact with humans. The things she wanted to know were all the more peculiar.

How tall and old and fat people grew on average. How they ate. How they lived.

There were a whole lot of things that Robbie had never consciously thought about, because for him, who had always lived on Earth, it was completely normal.

But he answered all the questions conscientiously.

Nomira also asked him a few questions about himself. About his friends and family. About his lifestyle.

Robbie wasn't sure if she was really interested in all of it, but as long as she was awake and occupied in this way, he was fine with it. He talked about his family in Scotland, about his son, about his girlfriend - blushing once more, of course - and also about his brother who worked for the fleet.

"A... brother in Starfleet?"

Nomira stared thoughtfully out of the window. And Robbie remembered the first reaction she'd had when she'd seen him.

"Oh, maybe ye know him? His name is Montgomery Scott. He's an engineer on the USS Enterprise. Maybe the ship visited yer planet sometime?"

Slowly, Nomira just shook her head, smiling gently. There was something strange in her gaze, but Robbie didn't notice it.

"No, I... I don't think so."

"What about ye? Where are ye from? Do ye have a family?"

When he saw the sad look on the female alien's face, he instantly regretted the question.

"Well... only if ye want to talk about it."

A wry smile crossed Nomira's lips.

"It's... it's all right. I'm from a planet whose name your race can't pronounce. I run a restaurant; a dream I've worked long and hard for. I... I had a family once, but... my parents are dead and my older brother..."

Her expression darkened and she swallowed hard, seeming to try not to lose her composure.

"He left me and my family to live his own life. Away from my kind."

Robbie nodded understandingly.

"I'm... I'm very sorry about that."

"You know, back in the day, my brother and I were one heart and one soul. I... I never understood how he could just give us up for a life that wasn't going to take him anywhere. He went behind my back."

Robbie thought of his own brother, who had left Scotland back then to pursue his big dream. Quit often, Robbie had felt alone back then, but in the end he understood that it had made Scotty happy.

"I... I dinnae think it was his intention to hurt ye. Sometimes our loved ones do things we don't understand. Things they have to do. But just because we go different ways doesn't mean we love each other any less. Maybe... maybe ye should try to contact him. Maybe ye just need to talk it out. As adults."

Nomira looked up and Robbie recognized tears in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"Maybe. But... for that to happen, we have to get out of here alive first."

Robbie swallowed hard. Aye, of course he knew that the air was getting tighter and tighter, which they were all not entirely innocent of with their conversations. And he also knew that their chances of survival were diminishing by the second. But he had hope. This simply couldn't be the end.

"The life support systems of these subways are very good. It... It's gonna be okay."

Nomira said nothing.

~

They had long since stopped talking when something finally happened.

Robbie flinched as he heard noises and his heart jumped as lights shone through the rubble.

They were being freed! People were finally getting them out of here!

Relief spread through him and he grabbed Nomira's hand and squeezed it gently.

"I told ye everything would be all right."

His counterpart gave him a tired smile and squeezed his hand back.

"Thank you, Robbie. For keeping me awake. And... for the conversations. You... really are a valuable human."

Robbie just laughed and shrugged.

"Trying my best."

It wasn't long before they were back out in the fresh air and getting medical attention.

One last time, Robbie went to Nomira, who was lying on a stretcher.

"Well, I... I really hope ye'll learn to get along with yer brother. And... it's been a pleasure getting to know ye. Even if the circumstances could have been different."

A peculiar smile formed on Nomira's face.

"Oh, believe me, Robbie, you wouldn't have wanted to meet me under different circumstances. How else would I have seen what kind of being you are. A being who deserves a long life."

Nomira squeezed his hand one last time, then she was pushed into the ambulance.

Robbie just smiled. Maybe Nomira was right. It was precisely in emergency situations that one really got to know others.

At least he was grateful that he had met her and saved her life.

[platinumsim]

The first day of women’s history month and PCOS is trending. I love to see it for me and my cysters but it’s nothing but a reminder of how we are still untreated in the medical field (they still won’t fund the research) and told that birth control is going to save us when it continues to do more harm to our already dissembled womanly system.

My person story 4 in a half years of prolonged bleeding (I’m not talking light bleeding either, VERY HEAVY AND CLOTTY WITH SEVERE PAIN, lost so much blood I was pale and developed pica, I was eating talc powder, chalk, tide washing powder) , cystic acne everywhere, losing my hair, cyst on both of my ovaries, male hair growth (chin, chest etc), all of my hormones out of wrack, and suffering with depression. The list goes on and at one point I couldn’t even see my obgyn till months out because “ expecting mothers was more important”. Gosh I still remember the day my grandmother had to come to high school to get me after just dropping me off an hour ago, the pain was so damn bad… I could barely walk and make it to the office, when I finally did I started crying so damn hard that it triggered the entire administration because they thought something had happened. I actually dropped out of high school my senior year because things had got worse and doctors wanted to start testing me for cancer.

I sit here today still suffering with so many of my symptoms but just grateful that during my worst of time I did not develop any of the multiple heart and stomach disorders/ diseases pcos CAN LEAD TO!!!! It’s very harsh in your endocrine and reproductive system. I hope I am not one that’s affected by infertility but I have a good feeling I am one.

[69constellationsinatrenchcoat]

🔥 has been encouraging us through messages to post as ourselves on here.

So hello! I'm.. not meant to say my name? Eh, name's Link, but I go by Wild too. Introject from, Surprise-surprise, the Legend of Zelda, specifically breath of the wild/tears of the kingdom, however I have been around in our system since...well, it was Twilight Princess and Link's Crossbow training on the Wii and the body was much shorter!!

Please bear in mind I have had time to come to terms with being an introject and have had a significant amount of time to research DID to understand it better (isn't the human brain fascinating?), and to research and learn what is considered fact/fiction to this world.

Do what you will with these

Introject thoughts and stupid things I've done

- I miss home. Always. Constantly. I have a constant longing for a home that... supposedly doesn't even exist. And no one to talk about it with.

- doubting my legitimacy because home feels SO real, but it not being real here.

- finding my source is not only a video game but a whole bunch of stories written by random strangers who..know too much about me- I picked up an eating disorder and sexual trauma from a fanfiction someone in our system read! (Apparently the system already has them, but still..)

- I shut down incredibly hard when I was told I'm not at home originally..

- having to mask who I am, more than just being a system. I've had to change my phrasing of "that reminds me of that time at home" to, give or take "that reminds me of a game". It's the worst stab to the heart I've ever experienced.

- Body tolerance for exercise: if you know anything of Zelda, I spent a LOT of time running around Hyrule, and my fitness levels were.. well above what our body is. I get winded and wheezy so fast now! And I hate it! And hylia forbid I try to climb something!

- I feel terrible for every time I made comments on periods being "not that bad". Now I've experienced one first hand, I can understand why Zel got emotional and desperately clingy if she was bleeding (I started calling periods the blood moon and our system has picked up on it!)

- chronic pain is terrible. I always had slightly achy joints, but experiencing chronic pain, even with the number of injuries I had, is still dreadful.

- ........please, I forget I don't have a p3n1s. Standing up to pee is not going to happen, at least not tidily. Same with literal toilets.. I still- don't- like them. 😅

- Not knowing what memories are body memories and pseudo memories built by story origins

- discovering not only do I have memories from home, I have memories of trauma that happened within the body.

- seeing sculptures, posters, art, etc made and owned by people who you don't know is incredibly disconcerting and uncomfortable

- I'm autistic (..🐚 says {he's also autistic, and my doting boyfriend..} I'm 'very autistic, it's painful to watch'). Learning what Autism is has been interesting! And explained so much!

- the body's mother, when she realized who I was, told me not to try jumping off cliffs as "I can't respawn" ????? In some worlds do you mean to tell me you can die more than once??

- i miss my friends and found family

- being both an interject and an age regressor. Normally I'm 18, almost 19 years old, but on occasion slip as young as 3 years, it has been..very strange, and terrifying.

- one of my first thoughts when I turned up here was that I'd have lost the age regression, ED, PTSD, and OCD tendencies, but no, they got worse.

- Non-binary has a name here. It's amazing.

- No one knows who I am here. I adore it.

~Link 🗡️

[jedi-hawkins]

Hawkins Rambles: Personal Story, not related to Fandom content

TW: MDNI please!! piercings, mentions of blood, cis female anatomy, healing process, body modifications, tattoos, IUDs/process

My body guys, but I'm so happy with my choice I just have to share. Mutuals or followers, please feel free to send me an ask if you want to know more, but please be respectful.

So yesterday I went and got my nipples pierced and i dont regret it one bit!

I made sure to do my research on the artists in my area and I was very observant when I went for my consultation/piercing to make sure they were using proper STERILE equipment. My artist in particular used at least ten pairs of gloves for me alone and even stepped out of the room when she got a tickle in her throat and had to cough. She was so respectful and calming through the whole process and she even expressed that it's totally okay for a client to walk out of an appointment if they aren't vibing with their artist. My roommate came with me and it was such a good experience.

I already love how they look. Looking down, it's still a bit of a shock, but in the mirror I absolutely love them. I've been tatted a couple times and I'd say the shock is comparable; the 'oh I forgot that's there' type surprise. The biggest thing I'm already liking is that this is a little secret for myself, it's a big confidence booster. I'm currently single, so I really did get pierced for myself. Just a fun "F it we ball" move.

I will not lie, they hurt like a mofo, but they weren't the worst pain I've had in my life. For context: I am a cis female and I've had two IUD insertions. Those two I would consider the worst pain of my life (I literally dissociated during both to the point the nurse thought I passed out). I would consider these the second most painful thing I've had done. The thing about an IUD insertion is that the pain lasts for multiple minutes, whereas the piercing is extreme pain when the needle goes through for 2-3 seconds, but then adrenaline takes over and you go kind of numb.

My piercer started on the left. Gave me ~10 break, then did the right. She said in her experience, people react worse to the left than the right, but for me the right felt worse. I didn't bleed a whole lot, just a bit of 'crusties' afterwards, my piercer was pretty diligent in rinsing me with saline during the process. I didn't pass out or flinch really badly (piercer said I sat really well and was shocked that my heart rate was only 76bpm after), but I did get a little woozy after the second piercing (just fuzzy in the head and pins and needles in my hands). I chilled in the seat for a bit and finished an iced tea I got from Starbucks beforehand and I was good to go in ~15 minutes. I brought a comfy bralette with my to the appointment and chose to wear it home which helped with the car ride. I stayed in the bralette for the rest of the night and slept in it. For me, I'm a member of the itty bitty titty committee and the slight snug pressure was comforting for me. I also took some acetaminophen (avoid advil/aspirin since these can affect blood clotting) for the residual pain and I'm feeling good today, almost like I'm not even pierced. I'm very careful and body-aware, so I haven't knocked them or caught them on anything. I also do kind of like they they're a piercing, so if I get tired of them, I can just take them out, but that's not happening any time soon!

As always RESEARCH when you're looking to get body modifications to make sure the one you're considering is the one for you, find a shop and artist that makes you feel safe and comfy, bring the supports you need (snacks, fluids, moral support) and enjoy the experience!

[moxleys-darlin]

2: Am I So Hard To Love?

Summary: Marcus goes too far and Grace knows she has to leave before she can't. 

TW: severe child abuse

Disclaimer: This story is gonna have abuse in the beginning. I used a lot of my own experiences for this story so a lot of what Grace's stepfather, mother, and siblings do is my personal story that I exaggerated a little (but not much). THERE IS NO SA; it's all physical, emotional, and mental. I was very lucky to be saved.

I'm only borrowing José Lothario.

(Pictures are not mine)

The next few weeks are relatively calm in the house, and she only has a few new bruises on her arms from where Marcus had grabbed her. She checks to make sure they aren’t visible with the shirt she’d chosen for the day before heading to her bookshelf. She listens for a moment for movement around the house, clocking each member of her household, before pulling the book she hollowed out and opening it. The tips at the restaurant for the last week had been amazing and, with summer break officially starting today, they will only get better. 

She doesn’t hear the footsteps behind her as she grabs the money out of the book and rifles through the bills quickly. “What is that?” She stops breathing for a moment when she turns to see Daniel smirking in the doorway. “Are you hiding money?”

“Daniel please-.” His smile goes evil for a moment and his next words strike terror into her heart.

“DAD!” He crosses his arms and stares at her. 

“Daniel, I am begging you, please. I am your sister, don’t do this.”

His smile turns smug. “DAD! I need you in Grace’s room!” 

She hears the heavy boots of her stepfather’s, and she backs up toward the closest wall as she tries to make herself smaller. “What’s going on, son?” Marcus asks as he fills the doorway.

She’s shaking her head back and forth quickly, but she knows it’s no use. “Grace is hiding money from you again Dad, it’s in her front pocket. I saw her grab it from that book there.” He smugly points to her hollowed book and a tear runs down her cheek when Marcus whips his head around and glares at her. 

He holds his hand out. “Is this true, Gracelynn Rose?” She slowly pulls the money from her pocket and places it in his hand, watching him count the money. “What did I say would happen if I caught you hiding your money from me again?”

“P-please Marcus, I’m sorry, I-I needed it.” She tries to swallow her stutters but she’s too terrified. 

She shakes as he unbuckles his belt, and she knows the punishment that’s coming. “Daniel, why don’t you take Adam and go to the park.” Her brother sends a smirk and wave her way before leaving and she knows her mother is at work so there is no calvary to save her. 

She throws her hands up. “Please Marcus, I won’t do it again.”

His chuckle is as evil as the man himself. “That’s funny, Grace, I remember you saying that the last two times when I went easy on your punishments.” As if you could call a concussion and dislocated shoulder going easy. “Remember sweetie, this hurts me more than it hurts you.” She can never understand why the first hit always hurts the worst. 

Grace is thankful that Marcus’s work called and begged him to come in so that she could finally have a break. She takes a second to catch her breath and make her body work again before she gets up and grabs a duffle bag. 

“When I come back, I’ll finish what I started.”  

The cut above her mark is bleeding from where he started to cut and scare her. She shoves clothes in the bag as fast as she’s able with the pain in her wrist, ribs, and throat. She hopes that her new injuries are easy fixes, but she pushes it all aside for now. She fits the last bit of clothes that she can in her duffle bag before emptying her backpack and grabbing a few important things. She listens for any movement before sneaking into her mom’s room and going to the safe. 

“Come on, come on, unlock already.” 

She sighs in relief as the lock disengages and she grabs the folder with her name on it. Rifling through it quickly before shoving it into her backpack, she quickly runs through the house and makes sure she has anything she may need. She shoves her feet in her shoes and leaves the house, hoping that her brothers aren’t on their way home because she knows she’s in no shape to fight them. The sight of the gym’s front door makes her cry, and she has to stop and hold her ribs for a moment before entering. 

“Welcome in!” The girl at the desk looks up and gasps loudly when she sees her. “Gracie! Oh my God, what happened? José! Ven aquí y date prisa!” Grace is thankful that the gym is mostly empty as Maddie rushes over to her and grabs her bags from her. 

“Madison, why are you yell-? Grace, mija, ven conmigo.” José doesn’t hesitate to grab her gently and lead her to his office. “Madison set her things down and see about getting the gym closed down for an hour.” He sits her down on his couch and goes to grab the first aid kit. “Tell me what happened, mija, and be honest.”

She hesitates and flinches as he cleans the cut on her wrist. Dropping her head so she won’t have to look at him, she spills everything; every injury, every bit of abuse, and every bit of sadness in her life, until she’s crying too hard to continue. 

“I’ve been hiding money here because I knew that he would find it eventually if it was in the house.” She wipes the sleeve of her shirt across her nose. “I can’t do it anymore, José, I need to go, but I don’t know where I’d be safe.”

She feels his hand cup her chin gently and lift her head. “I will help you in any way that I can. For now, you are safe but I’m afraid I must check your ribs. Can you lift your shirt for me? I’ll be quick.”

She nods quickly and winces at the pressure despite how gentle he is. She watches as he wraps her wrist and ribs before sitting back and letting her drop her shirt. “I have to leave tonight, José, soon if I can. My brothers will be home soon and when they see I’m gone they’ll call Marcus. His first stop will be here, and I can’t let you be hurt because of me, and he will hurt you, sir.” He hands her some Tylenol, and she doesn’t even wait for any water before swallowing them dry. 

“We will figure things; sit here and rest while I will make some calls.”

“Jose?” She calls out tiredly.

“Yes, mija? What is it?”

“Am I so hard to love? Mom never stuck up for me and he’s hated me since she met him because I wasn’t his.” She sniffs to keep the tears at bay.

“No Gracie, you’re not hard to love; none of this is your fault, okay?” He places his hand on her head for a moment before going to the desk and picking up the phone. 

She rests her head against the back of the couch as she listens to the soothing voice of José. She picks up some Spanish, but he is talking too low and too fast for her to completely understand. She flinches violently when she feels a hand on her shoulder. 

“Lo siento pequeña, I have set up some short term plans for you but you must get up and we have to go.” He hands her an envelope, a first aid kit, and a piece of paper with writing on it. “This is your money, and you are going to El Paso to connect with an old friend of mine. He and his husband will take care of you.”

She looks in the envelope when she notices that it is much heavier than it should be. “There’s too much money in here.” She states confused. 

“I’ve been adding money over time and so has Shawn and Mark. We thought it was for something like a car or something personal, so we wanted to help out. I’m sorry that you have to use it for this, but if you’re going to leave you have to go now. There is a bus that leaves in thirty minutes so I will walk you there and get you on the bus but after that it's up to you to make sure you make it to El Paso. Por favor ten cuidado, entendido?” 

“I understand, José, thank you.” 

“Now come on, let’s get you on that bus, mija.”

José takes her bags, and they make it to the bus just as it is pulling up. She grabs her bags from him and hugs him tightly as tears well in her eyes. 

“Buena suerte pequeña.” He pulls back and kisses her on the forehead gently.

“Te amo, José.” She whispers.

“I love you too, Grace. Good luck and we will talk to you soon. Go on now.” He hugs her one last time and nudges her toward the bus. 

The driver takes one look at her and smiles sadly. “Heading to El Paso?” 

“Yes sir.” She gives him a small smile and pays for her ticket before sitting directly behind the driver. 

“Whatever you’re running from, dear, you’ll be safe on my bus.” 

She blushes and drops her head. “Thank you, sir.”

Spanish: Ven aquí y date prize: come here and hurry up Ven conmigo: come with me Lo siento pequeña: I’m sorry little one Por favor ten cuidado, entendido: Please be careful, understand? Buena suerte pequeña: good luck little one Te amo: I love you

Here's Chapter Two! I really hope y'all enjoyed it! Much love to everyone that reads! ❤️

[blubushie]

14, 19, 27 for Jesse and/or Mundy? From the OCs ask game

THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT THEM!!! I love when people ask about them, you have no idea.

14: Do they have a hard time opening up to people?

Jesse doesn't. There's obviously some stuff she won't admit to (<cough> Craig Donovan <cough>) or stuff about her family that she'll keep secret (her relationship with her father, her mother's alcoholism, the fact a part of her still resents Tommie for leaving) but generally she's the type to just babble about whatever is going on in her life at the time.

Mundy is the exact opposite. If Jesse hadn't already seen the "rougher" side of him, it would've taken her upwards of a year to actually get him to talk about his life and family and his own past. The main reason he does open up to her is because she's already familiar with the worst parts of himself and is still receptive to him despite that. She's seen the worst of him and he knows that she won't judge him for showing the gentler parts that everyone else called him a sook and bleeding heart for showing as a child. That said, it's still difficult for him to open up about and if you read/have read the fic you might/might have caught that when he's opening up about something he's unable to make eye contact! ;]

19: How easy is it to become their friend?

For Jesse it's incredibly easy. Just talk to her. She's never had an instance of hating someone off the bat (up until what happens in chapter 12 but we're not there yet). Jesse even tried for a good year or two to get on Craig Donovan's good side despite him being a constant arsehole to her. Jesse loves people, is a massive extrovert, and hates the idea of anyone being her enemy so it's very very easy to become mates with her.

Mundy is the complete opposite. He's reclusive so first you'd have to find him, and then it's a matter of winning his trust like a stray cat. Look but don't touch. If you want to be mates with him the best thing you can do is either be silent and simply share in his presence and let him come to you first, or be like Jesse and do most of the conversation for him. As he warms up he'll eventually start chiming in with little thoughts and comments instead of one-word answers, and if you keep at it you'll eventually get whole stories out of him.

Also, offer him expensive whisky. He opens up much better with some good Scotch and when he's loose he relaxes and starts talking more, but don't expect to get him drunk because the bloke can really hold his liquor (what would you expect, he's been drinking bushshine for half his life).

27: Has a chance encounter ever had an unexpected effect on them?

Honestly the entire reason Jesse and Mundy are a thing is from a chance encounter. Charles was paid on behalf of the Italian mafia to kill Her, who just so happened to be Mundy's favourite person at the time. He found out about this after the fact, went for a drive to clear his head, and just so happened to encounter Jesse on the road. Victim/crime of opportunity, a chance encounter that happened to chance both of their lives forever (good thing it's [probably] for the better!)

Also Mundy's encounter with the English woman in Rhodesia left a very sour taste in his mouth regarding dating and commitment, so there's that. On the plus she taught him half the things he knows about the fairer sex so it wasn't all bad, but he's not sure he'd do it again if he had the option of rewinding time.

Also also, Mundy's chance encounter with a drunk bloke in January of 1963 resulted in him taking his first job as a hitman, and the circumstances of why he was hired to kill that target irrevocably changed how he views emotions and the role they play in people's actions. It also gave him his first standards of being a professional hitman: no women, no one under 25, no getting involved with clients or targets. Especially targets. These have since been tossed to the wayside as he's grown more cold (and been offered more cash).

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

what would the lion do?

ironically I never really liked lions

does leo really mean lion?

I should look up some of the ancient texts

there's likely something there to see

and even though they were in my bible story

I didn't like how the male just lied around

while the ladies pretty much did everything

just another harem like community

though I understand it and it's the way of horses

I like the solitary way of tigers instead

they get what they need and then

they fuck off to do what they want

luckily I'm a human so I get to do what I want

I'm no longer in the cave of my own limitations

not quite used to the sun yet either

so I'm blinking rapidly until I adjust to it

what a wild and beautiful world it's going to be

I saw family of turkeys today crossing the road

when I turned the circle at Hunter Church

past a path to my right called Love Road

I drove past and blew it a kiss

I drove back home to see a doe and two fawns

one of them was so scared to cross the road

but I waited and watched and those spots were so cute

the sunlight was golden as it fell on summer flowers

a sign tells you as you drive by not to mow

you can't lose anything not meant for you

but you can borrow it a bit hold it close

see what it can inspire in your blood

but that blood always stays yours

like your life you get to choose what you do with it

in past lives I'm sure I didn't have that kind of freedom

so I should make the best of what I have now

already I can see how far I've come in even the last month

when the worst happens you realize how easy it is

actually to survive it but you have to let it hurt first

engage with the pain as a motive

use that energy to propel you forward

don't really have another choice, do I?

my god it was fun to dream for a bit though

and my future will give me plenty of opportunities

to do more of it as long as I give myself

the opportunity to see myself through and become

whatever it is I'm becoming and will become

have I mentioned how much I fucking hate transitions?

the cycle of birth and rebirth, of dying and becoming

existential crises after existential crisis

if I can't have your eyes I'll steal someone else's

the universe moves for me and not against me

my frequency and vibration will attract what I need

I won't call myself an idiot this time

everything I did was with an open heart and mind

a willingness and passion that I will admire in myself

not scold in myself just because things changed

far outside my range of control and ability

how am I going to be an optimist about this?

how am I going to be an optimist about this?

I breathe myself in and I give myself life

I started bleeding today

yeah, that sounds about right

[puff-mmd]

I read an lgbtq+ manga and it made me think some things.

Hoping it's not out of place or too much, since Ciro and Kaisei's story is generally light-hearted (even if before they get together, Kaisei makes it a bit sad). Like, it's not a super serious story, but I was thinking of a scene that is more serious to explore some of the themes that manga brought up.

TW assault and violence.

--

It starts out with them at a bar, just drinking and having a nice date together. The bar probably isn't far from their apartment, a good half hour walk in nice weather. As the night goes on, Kaisei starts wanting to go home - he's feeling a little promiscuous, and Ciro isn't about to decline. So they gather themselves a bit before heading home.

On the walk home though, Kaisei starts having to use the bathroom, as it happens when one drinks alcohol and water like they're dying of dehydration. Fortunately, there's a few convenience stores on their walk home and Kaisei slips inside one of them. Before he does, he asks Ciro to come in the store with him, to which he replies something like, "You're a grown man Kaisei, you don't need me to hang around while you go piss."

It wasn't that he needed Ciro to go to the bathroom with him, he just had this weird feeling...but he chalks it up to the alcohol and goes while Ciro waits outside.

He's standing by the window on his phone, there are barely any people out this time of night. Even for a Saturday evening, most people are in bars or at home by now He closes his eyes and leans back - he's tired, but he can't wait to get home himself and spend some alone time with Kaisei.

A hand grabs his shoulder, and Ciro's eyes pop open, wondering why Kaisei is gripping him so hard - only to have an arm shoot around his throat and face, another holding him tight around the waist. He tries to yell, but the thick fabric around the person's arm muffles his sounds.

The stranger takes Ciro into a nearby alleyway, the man behind him still holding tight and backing up against a wall next. Another shorter man, dressed similarly with a dark hoodie and mask, appears from behind them and stares into Ciro's eyes. He has no idea what's going on, who these men are, or what they're going to do.

When the man in front of him pulls out a small knife and starts talking about what a disgusting thing he is along with other crude remarks, it's suddenly clear to Ciro what's happening, and his heart drops into his stomach. His breathing gets harder and he feels like a caged animal.

He's fucking terrified.

--

Kaisei comes out of the store and is confused by the lack of Ciro standing around where he left him. He thinks maybe he went in the store and he just missed him, when he hears a distinctly Ciro-sounding yell coming from a nearby alley. A surge of adrenaline rushes through him, and before he can think, he's already at the entrance to the alley and seeing the worst possible sight in front of him.

Ciro is being held against a man, with another in front of him - his sleeve pushed up, and a knife carving a cut into the exposed skin as cries and struggles to get away.

His only thought that pushes him to move is, "Get away from him".

In a moment, Kaisei slams into the man holding the knife, clawing at his neck and shoulder while reaching for the weapon. It clatters to the ground, and the man is gripping his now bleeding neck in pain. The man holding onto Ciro throws him aside and rushes for the knife, but he's too late. Kaisei grabbed it as the shorter man fell to the ground, and was now holding it up towards the two hooded and masked figures.

"Get the fuck out of here, NOW," he growled.

They scrambled to their feet, the taller man shouting expletives but not sticking around as he held up the shorter man on his shoulder and carried him away from the alley.

Kaisei stood, knife still in his hand and panting, watching until the men disappeared around the corner. A whimper from his left snapped him out the trance, the red draining from his vision as he dropped to the ground next to Ciro. He saw the cut on his arm was bleeding, and he had scrapped his temple when he was thrown to the ground, but other than that he could see no other injuries.

He slumped into Kaisei's arms, still breathing heavily and crying but nodding when asked if he could stand. Kaisei insisted that they go to a hospital, but Ciro simply asked to go home - they could take care of this themselves.

"What if there was something on that blade?"

"The freak cut his own thumb with the knife to scare me, I don't think he'd have done that if there was something on it."

"What the fuck was that..."

--

They get home and Kaisei immediately brings Ciro into the bathroom to look for antiseptic and bandages. The blonde sat on the closed toilet, exhausted and still a little shaky. He took care of the scrape on his temple, while Kaisei focused on his arm. Ciro winced as the liquid disinfected the cut. It wasn't deep, but it ran from his wrist almost to his elbow. Once the burning sensation started to subside, he looked down at the man between his legs.

Kaisei's face was dark, the white light from the bathroom mirror casting a harsh shadow over his face. His eyebrows deeply furrowed and eyes barely held back tears. After wrapping Ciro's arm in gauze, he sat still for a moment before wrapping his arms slowly around Ciro's waist and burying his head into his stomach. Ciro used his left hand to stroke his hair, the other resting along Kaisei's shoulder, and he bent down to kiss the top of his head. All at once, the sob that Kaisei had been holding back let go.

"I'm so sorry, Ciro."

"It's not your fault."

Silence aside from Kaisei's quiet whimpers.

"I think I've gained a new fear..."

"Yeah? Join the club."

They both chuckle weakly. Kaisei pulls away just enough to look up at his boyfriend, and holds Ciro's hand against his cheek.

"I can't ever lose you, Ciro, or I'll lose my mind too."

--

A sidenote, the two men were probably other bar goers who didn't quite intend on being assholes, but they were probably drunk, already bigoted? and decided to fuck around (hence why the guy with the knife was acting weirder than expected).

Absolutely no excuse for what they did, just explaining why they did it. It wasn't a planned contempt kind of thing, it just sort of happened.

I could never kill either of them, but I wanted to know more about their rarer emotions and what might trigger them. In this case, what do blind rage Kaisei and scared for his life Ciro look like?

The answer is I feel a pain thinking about it but it is interesting to explore something like this, and it gives me a little insight as to what the social acceptance of their world is like. For the most part it's better than ours (they can legally get married), but there are still dangerous people with twisted ideals.

[animeyanderelover]

May I ask Happy death day for Kaneki, Haise, Ayato, Karma, reaper(?? Well human Koro sensei) and Juuzou?

We’re going back to that concept, huh? For your information, there was once a request for Happy Death Day where only the Yandere and the darling can remember what happened. This plays either in an established relationship or after the kidnapping.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, paranoia, manipulation, controlling behavior, kidnapping, death of the s/o, suicidal thoughts, sadism, mutilation of corpses

Happy Death Day

Ken Kaneki

🔲He literally just dies the moment you died because this boy turns positively suicidal and homicidal after he sees his darling dead, should anyone be near him there is the severe danger of Kaneki attacking them and killing them since he stops using his head. He’s always been ever so paranoid about your safety since your life is basically the reason for him to exist. Now it’s been taken from him, you’ve been taken from him. His life, his heart, his feelings are shattered, cease to exist as a pain worse than Jason’s torture overcomes him and a chilling scream spills from his lips. He screams and cries his sorrow and agony out until he feels like his throat is bleeding but even that can’t stop him from continuing to scream. He wants to keep your corpse, not to devour it but to keep you in this house, to continue his life as if you’re still there.

🔲Instead of having to commit suicide or turning completely delusional and thinking that you’re still there, he awakes with a terrified scream. Shaking, covered in sweat and tears and in your and his home. The poor boy is completely disoriented at first, not able to recognize his own house. Anger, madness and the wish to die blinding his senses…until his eyes land on you. And then he has another full-on meltdown. He bursts out in tears, starts to sob loudly and instantly latches himself on you, blabbering and crying apologies and shaking in utter fear. He doesn’t even want his darling to leave the bed. More like he can’t because the moment they seem to want to get away from his grip he suffers from a cardiac arrest and slams them back into bed. It’s impossible to reason with him and it takes hours for him to think clearly and realize that his darling needs to eat and go to toilet.

🔲So the worst thing is telling him that in fact this might have happened since you’ve had a dream about dying as well which is unavoidable the more he starts freaking out when events from what he thought to be only a dream start repeating. Even without telling him he would have already seen it as real with his paranoia, your little story only makes it worse though. He’s the whole day over the edge and even the slightest sound has him going over in a violent attack mode. He can’t let you die over and over again, even if there are no words to describe how euphoric he is about at least you being still alive and him knowing what is about to happen. If you were murdered that person is screwed because Kaneki will be beyond murderous. He won’t even feel any pain if his limbs would be ripped away from his body, he just wants to stab and hurt that person until they’re long dead and he’s mutilated the corpse beyond recognition.

🔲His previous respect for privacy in moments where he felt more peaceful vanish completely and he is left with a wound in his heart that can’t be healed even after years. He follows you anywhere, even to the toilet or when you wish to shower. Kaneki completely stops functioning without you in his sight, loses all his shit and lashes completely out. Grows paranoid to the point where he crushes and kills even the smallest insects that hurt you mildly and you can only watch and protest as he completely takes over your life. Nothing is allowed anymore and in the worst nights where he dreams about your death, you’re left with a broken pile of a man who cries gibberish and screams and shrieks in anxiety and terror if you don’t touch him or calm him down somehow.

Ayato Kirishima

🌌Rage, utter and complete rage takes over his entire mind and body to the point where all of his surroundings turn blurry and only your dead body remains clear in his vision. He hears a ringing in his ears as he can almost imagine hearing his heart breaking and bleeding inside of his chest. He stands still a few moments longer. Then he explodes instantly, his Kagune and his fists and legs destroying everything and everyone close to him. It’s like watching a wild animal going mad as he doesn’t even seem to notice in his frenzy what exactly he damages as his knuckles turn bloody before the skin regenerates instantly. The only thing spared from his lunatic wrath is darling’s body. It’s only after he has destroyed his entire surroundings and shouted at a corpse that everything hits him and he releases a scream of utter anger and heartbreak, accompanied by a few stray tears.

🌌Awakes much like Kaneki completely distorted as the feelings of resonating rage and the confusion of where he is only infuriate him further. With plenty of willpower and desire to go off a second time and hurt someone in his fury, he’s that close to going on a rampage once again before you finally make your presence known, skittish what you should do and how he’ll react. When his head snaps at you, his eyes are still clouded with fury and the wish to hurt which has you flinching back and apologizing instantly. Instead of mean words, he just freezes completely, eyes widened and a dumbstruck and disbelieving expression on his face as some choked noises come from his throat. In the next moment he just grabs you, shakes you and seems to frantically search for injuries which he can’t find. When he pulls back, he stares at you for a while longer with too many emotions to recognize before he just silently leaves.

🌌His interactions with you for the following hours are strange to say the least. He keeps coming back to you only to stare at you with furrowed brows, grab you by your arms once again to scan you as if trying to spot something he can’t find. His remarks are gruff and mean, have lost their sharper edge as he appears to be almost nervous and hesitant, afraid to say something wrong. He grows visibly more guarded and paranoid the longer the day continues and so do you yet you refuse to tell him, expecting to be mocked and not taken seriously. It isn’t until the hour of death is close that Ayato completely snaps, unable to ignore and play down the uncanny sameness this whole day had to what he doesn’t believe to be a mere dream anymore. Ayato…he won’t admit that he dreamed of this since it’s ridiculous in his opinion. Not unless you admit it first which earns you a alarmed and shocked long glance.

🌌Ayato doesn’t want to talk about this, not even after he’s teared apart viciously the killer who killed you once before. Something inside of him has just been deeply unsettled by this paranormal phenomena. He’s never been someone to be superstitious yet there is no logical explanation for this. Even you had the same dream and remember vividly the pain and the terror of dying. Maybe that is why he freaks out a little bit whenever he dreams about darling’s death again which isn’t unusual after having seen them dying already once. It affects his behavior around you as well. Still a rude and arrogant ghoul, he seems to obviously pay more attention to you now and hesitates when he’s about to truly spit out cruel words. He fears for yet another death of yours from which both of you won’t wake up from, leaving his last words to you as those of the degrading kind. He…doesn’t want to be the indifferent and mean guy in your mind all the time.

Juuzou Suzuya

🔪Juuzou has never been one to exactly grasp his emotions well yet when he is aware of his own feelings, he connects deeply. His connection with his s/o was the deepest bond he’s had so far and with them gone, he has basically just lost half of his heart and soul. The realization doesn’t hit him instantly, his body and brain ceases to function the moment he sees their corpse. The world completely breaks away under his feet and as slowly everything hits him, a searing pain starts to pound in his body and tears force their way in his eyes. A guttural scream, capturing all of his pain and confusion as he kneels down next to you. Just like that he grows quiet, as if this screams cleansed him of all his energy as he just sits there silently. This pain is a unfamiliar one for him, this hole in his heart is new for him and before he knows it, a broken laughter spills past his lips as he grows overwhelmed with grief and rising anger.

🔪I don’t cannon him as someone who is a good sleeper so it’s a sort of raw experience to wake up from his slumber, though he definitely wishes he wouldn’t have slept at all because of this dream. Before Suzuya can do anything though, he has to get a grip on his own emotions as they’re still swirling around inside of his chest. Especially when he sees darling, he goes into another state of shock and a slower process of proceeding informations. The first thing he does is pinching himself, hard. To the point where his darling worries that he’ll actually tear his skin off. The next thing he does is slowly, as if in trance, walking over to s/o. Only to pinch them as well. Not nearly as hard as he did himself, just enough to feel their warm flesh and skin and observe their very lively reaction right before he throws himself on them, another series of broken laughs escaping his lips.

🔪The problem with Suzuya is that he is such a honest person. The dream is still stuck in his mind so it is very likely that he’ll tell you about his strange experience shortly after having seen you alive again. That is going to lead to some sort of reaction out of you since it is disturbing to be reminded of your own dream, especially since Juuzou apparently had the same dream and one look at the calendar tells you which day is today. Even if you try to brush it off or attempt to hide it, if Juuzou notices your strange reaction, he will start pestering you. The boy is a persistent guy so you either cave in or Suzuya himself comes to draw conclusions himself as more and more things starts to repeat themselves and the feeling that he’s already witnessed this day kick in. Whilst he can be quite childish, Juuzou isn’t dumb and since only he seems to recall this day, you have little choice but to turn to him.

🔪He has fun torturing and killing the person who murdered you, it doesn’t exactly matter if it was a human or ghoul in this case. They’ve killed you once and they’ll die ten times themselves for it. It’s a really twisted game he plays with them, a creepy grin on his face. If that person is a ghoul it’s even worse since he’ll inflect a lot of damage that is nearly lethal but not enough to kill them yet so that the regeneration abilities can do their job. Eventually he just kills that person off, gets rid of the body and leaves, feeling happier and better. On the outside he seems to keep the hyperactive and childish personality, he’s actually matured from the experience though and takes some things more serious now. There is a darker and duller glimmer in his eyes when his thoughts wander back to that day and he grows uncannily quiet.

Haise Sasaki

🔳His ears start ringing painfully and his breath starts shaking at first before he goes into full hyperventilation, tears already blurring his vision and cascading down his face as he starts feeling sick and about to throw up his lunch. The world grows smaller and smaller until it just shatters, crushing his heart with it as his world was his darling, his beloved. Memories of you flood his mind as a indescribable agony starts spreading inside of his chest, cutting his breaths shorter and shorter until he is choking and causing his whole body to shake violently. A voice deep inside of him is fuming, yelling, traumatizing him even further as a searing pain shots through his head and leads him to cover his ears in terror. Everything just hurts in that moment as Haise sobs and begs for it to stop, wobbling around on his legs before he’s forced down on his knees.

🔳Tears are still streaming down his face when he wakes up, disconnected from his surroundings and reality as his head is still filled with the fuzzy and dizzy pain. He needs to take a few deep breaths to slowly gain consciousness again, to start to use his head again. The first thing he does is checking on you instantly, heart rate spiking up in fear again as he vividly recalls images of your dead body. Incredibly relieved to the point where Sasaki feels his knees weakening again when he sees that you’re still with him, alive and healthy. He’s speechless, staring at you with wet eyes before he pulls you into a strong hug and starts chanting how much he loves you. Haise makes it a point to not worry you about that stupid dream, decides to not leave you out of his sight either. He’s surely going to feel better once he’s witnessed you fully alive for a whole day to leave that dream behind him.

🔳Unfortunately that does not happen as he comes to realize which date it is and as he recalls events happening exactly as they were in his dreams, leading to him dropping something out of shock as he feels cold terror washing over his every limb. Maybe he is paranoid, maybe not but how many coincidences can there really be? What about you then? Are you aware that you’re going to die today? That is the question Haise asks himself and he observes you throughout the day intently, noticing that you seem far more skittish and anxious than normally. That only seems to grow and increase the more hours pass by and your anxiety is transferred directly to Sasaki who only turns more paranoid himself until he eventually can’t hold it in anymore and has a talk with you. You know something, don’t you? Did you have the same terrible nightmare as him?

🔳Once you’ve told him, it’s over. He’ll most likely place you under security somehow, is on the borderline of begging his team to lend him a helping hand and watch over you and is against leaving you at all. He stays, constantly glances out of the window and has a small heart attack whenever he sees someone watching your house. He wants his darling to survive this day, their safety comes always first. That doesn’t mean that he can leave darling’s murder all alone and free either, he’ll start an investigation of his own and even if it is painful and traumatizing, you have to tell him as much as you can remember about your killer. Sasaki won’t react in the same hysterical way that Kaneki does, even if he wants at least two people he trusts around you in the future. He’s able to slowly relax after some time has passed and nothing else has happened though.

Akabane Karma

🔴Karma is usually a relaxed guy who loves to tease his darling a lot, that never changed the fact that they were a light of his life, someone who meant a lot to him. He keeps a blank face, completely void of the mischief look in his eyes. Something is hurting him inside his chest, something that takes over more and more the longer he gazes at his darling's corpse and together with the pain comes a rage, thirst for revenge that boils his blood. He doesn't cry, not now. Instead he starts laughing out loudly, a crazed and whimpering fit cackles expressing all of his emotions at once. The more the pain sinks in, the more the laughter turns to broken sobs though until the first tear drops down his face. Soon after the first one follows another one and another one until he breaks down crying, devastated giggles still escaping his throat in between.

🔴​He's bewildered, almost insecure once he opens his eyes, panting heavily and having broken out in cold sweat. Tired, irritated and still fuming with the wish to hurt someone to hopefully feel a bit more alive again now that part of his joy and life has been taken from him, he gets more emotional than one might imagine when he lays his eyes on you. He almost gets dizzy since he is so relieved, hesitates to show it openly though since he concludes for now that he was just having a bad dream. It would be sort of embarrassing to act all panicked and paranoid now only because of a nightmare, right? Really, he almost acts all casual when he greets you the next morning with his usual teasing greeting and the chaste kiss pressed against your lips. If it wouldn't be for the only subtle way he seems more on edge and is only a bit more clingy.

🔴​Karma is a very smart person though so he already starts being suspicious when he realizes that today is the day in his dream. A coincidence or two can happen, your own behavior is quite...weird as well though and that has him drawing new conclusions. It's most likely not even an hour later that he starts bugging you about it and he will get his answers. If the normal question won't do it, Karma will simply use fear and manipulation to force you to concede that something is wrong. He can become quite terrifying the longer you don't answer, he has the best value behind his motives now and you should know that too. It's your life that's most likely on the stake here and he's not risking it. Once you've admitted to having had the same dream, he locks you inside his room and refuses to let you leave. He has to go on a little hunt in the meantime.

🔴​If you want to get to know his truly sadistic side, watch him killing the killer because Karma has zero mercy. He's always been ready to be violent and cruel when it comes to defending those close to him and this is taken to a new level because that scumbag was just about to murder his little s/o. The body isn't even cognizable by the end of Karma's torture yet he feels very lighthearted by the view, mocking them even long after their death with sadistic remarks. He's in a better mood when he returns back home and his darling knows what he did already without seeing his smirk. Feels like if he would have just been able to monitor you better the first time in the dream, he would have been able to safe you and so he starts taking more control over your life. It's for your own good, he tells you. It's better if you stay locked in his house and don't go anywhere without him watching you.

Koro

⚫​The one time he decided to do his job as an assassin and not stalk his darling and the worst had to happen. It's not like The Reaper didn't play with the thought that his presence could bring you in troubles if someone who knows him finds out. Such emotions are a first for him, he's never quite experienced such a stinging and burning pain like this one even if this plays after the whole experiment thing and losing Aguri. He imagines that this must be the feeling when someone is being shot right into the heart as he confirms over and over again if your heart has really stopped beating, clinging on a pointless hope. The wetness flowing out of his eyes is close to startling him when he touches his wet cheeks and stares at the tears on his fingers for a while before he bursts completely out in tears and silently cries. Especially if he's gotten his power but can still contain his human form he will suffer a small breakdown and end up destroying everything in his nearest surroundings.

⚫​He’s probably the calmest of all when he bats his eyelashes open, heart still beating in horror and a single tear escaping his eyes. Koro is someone who needs to think fast and analyze quickly though so after a few moments, he remembers what just happened. Now, he isn’t one to believe in superstitious stuff but that dream was the borderline of frightening and unnerving since it was way too detailed and felt way too real. He can still feel your cold skin under his fingertips, can still smell the scent of blood and still feel the wrath throbbing inside of his temples. Little time is wasted after he’s completely recalled everything that has happened before he decides to do something he wanted to do for a while now but held back so far. That is kidnapping you. His paranoia has taken over, you’ll be safer with him instead of living defenseless.

⚫��Koro feels the final relief wash over him when he sees you just fine, erasing his last worries that you really died. He’s not completely without a plan, he doesn’t go blindly into actions though there might have been a factor that made him hurry up a bit. It isn’t only his paranoia, it’s also the fact that today is the day he felt like he already witnessed once in something he believes to be a dream and it doesn’t do wonders to his patience. He still manages to take you away in a more professional manner and it’ll go especially fast if he has his superhuman strength and speed already. He’s as polite and nice with that practiced and friendly smile of his as possible whilst attempting to explain himself. His feelings, long period of stalking and he even is honest enough to talk about the dream which elicites this shocked reaction out of s/o. He sees this as well and in the next moment he finds out the unpleasant truth.

⚫️To the murderer, you’re screwed either way. Koro is the best assassin known to mankind and it’s either him killing the person whilst still being a full human or him killing them after he’s been the labor rat for a while and gaining amazing powers thanks to it. In this scenario they’re even more screwed because nothing beats him at this rate anymore. He’s fairly cruel himself, he lets the victim feel the true horror of their mistake they have yet to do before he just kills them swiftly and cleanly without much of a mess. The body will either be left behind or he’ll dispose of it before Koro returns to his freshly kidnapped darling. They’re safe now is what he tells them when he returns. He’ll keep them from now on always safe, nothing like this should happen again. You’ll get used to it after a while, you just need to acclimatize and deal with the overbearing assassin.