I love the scary sea creature trying to mate x clueless human who’s just glad they have a new friend trope
You’re on a small holiday in a beach house you rented trying to get away from all the stress from your job, taking some space. Time for yourself to recharge your social battery.
You love every single thing about it. The long walks you take on the beach, no thoughts just the sound of the waves slowly washing up. The quieter peaceful nights with the cool breeze filling your room. You’ve even made a habit to wake up early each morning to watch the sunrise.
Your friends did offer to accompany you and you were grateful but you needed this alone time. As much as you loved them your social battery can’t even handle them sometimes.
So the days pass by with you lounging around, swimming, tanning on the beach without a care in the world.
Until one day when you sit down on one the houses wooden steps to watch the sunrise you notice movement in the water. You watch as the water splashes for a few seconds before it stills.
Slowly, very slowly, a head slowly emerges from the surface. Only the top of it though. Just enough for the eyes to be above water.
You never see people swimming this early, how long have they been here?
You don’t dwell on them for too long as your attention drift to the sun slowly rising. You feel your breath being taken away as the waters surface reflects the light almost glittering. You never get tired of it even after seeing it everyday.
It seems the person feels the same way as they slowly rise higher out of the water and watch the view. You feel a strange connection. Like it’s in intimate moment. This is a complete stranger but you both are the only ones here who are witnessing such a beautiful sight.
You tense up when you notice something moving under the surface near them. You’re sure they’re not the one causing they seem to be standing completely still.
You start moving, urgency in your step until your stepping in wet sand and the water completely soaks the bottom of your pajama pants “Hey watch out! I think something is-“ The person startles and whips around. Your words die in your throat as you take them in.
Long pointed ears. Pale almost translucent skin. Small slits on the sides of their neck that you normally wouldn’t catch if it weren’t for them aggressively flaring. White terrified eyes.
And the splashing around them was a tail.
Their tail.
You can’t take your eyes off of it. Dark green scales glittering in the light.
When they notice your stare they quickly duck their head underwater. Their tail splashing once before any trace of them is gone.
You took a walk in the morning. As well as in the afternoon. You kept looking out your window but there was nothing in the water.
You sat and watched the sunset and waited but nothing. For once the view didn’t have your full attention.
Even as the sky got dark and you started rubbing your arms from the cold bite of the air you didn’t move. You couldn’t. All you could think about was the creature you saw this morning.
You knew it was really early and maybe you weren’t fully awake but there was no way your imagination was that strong.
You hug your knees and rest your chin on your arms. You let exhaustion consume your body and your eyes flutter shut as you slowly drift to sleep. The sound of the waves lulling to you to sleep.
You wake up laying on your back with a weight pressing on your chest. You groan and slowly blink. You vision takes a second to clear up but when it does you’re met with white eyes looking into yours. You gasp and quickly sit up, scaring the poor creature in front of you as well and sending him scattering away.
He doesn’t jump into the water but he’s close enough to where he could make a quick escape. He looks at you with alarm and fear in his eyes as he nervously looks between you and the water, as if debating his options.
You try to calm your breathing even though your heart is pounding in your chest “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” You say in a hushed tone and he perks up. He seems to understand that you’re not a threat but you’re not sure if he understands what you’re actually saying “Can you..understand me?” Whether he does he doesn’t show but his body relaxes so you’ll take that as a good signs.
He simply stares at you not saying anything. Not afraid. Curious.
Since he’s not going anywhere you might as well get comfortable. You hug your knees to your chest and look up at the sky. A smile tugs at your lips “I fell asleep tonight but I always sit here and watch the stars and the moon. It’s beautiful isn’t it? especially on nights when the moon is full.” He probably doesn’t understand a word you’re saying but you continue anyway “I sit alone but when I watch the moon but I don’t feel alone. It’s weird, maybe.” When you turn to him he’s looking up at the moon longingly. The way you look at it. Maybe you’re similar in some ways.
Suddenly he tenses and looks at the water. You don’t see or hear anything but clearly something has caught his attention. He doesn’t spare you another glance before jumping into the water and swimming away.
The next morning when walk along the beach as the sun rises you find a seashell in your path. Big and beautiful. Not like the small ones you’ve been collecting during your time here. Clean and sitting on top of the sand almost as if it’s deliberately placed there. You don’t waste time in scooping it up. Inspecting it in awe. You knew the perfect place for it.
You make your way back to the house excited with the new addition to the little trinkets and shells you’ve collected so far not noticing the head that peeks out of the water and watches your retreating figure.
The next night a rock washes up. White and almost translucent shining under the moonlight. Simple but beautiful.
You hear the water splashing and look away from the rock to see the merman, his eyes on the rock in your hand. Your brows raise in shock “You’re back.” He looks at you and his lips twitch in a wobbly smile, almost like he’s never done it before “I thought I scared you away.” You chuckle “ He shakes his head “N-no..” He rasps “I’m not scared. Not of you.” He speaks the last part softly “I didn’t know you could talk.” You feel rude for saying it but he doesn’t seem to mind “I only learned from humans. I always like listening to them talk on their boats or when they’re swimming. I’m the only one though.” He looks down sadness clouding his eye “The rest don’t like humans so they never learned.”
“What about you?” He startles “Me?” You nod “Do you not like humans?” He shakes his head furiously “I do! My family thinks they’re vile but I’ve always wanted to spend time with them.” His expressions falls again “Most are afraid of me.” You shift so you’re sitting closer to him “I’m not.” He flinches when you place your hand on top of his before relaxing. He looks at it with an unreadable expression “Yes..You’re quite different. You aren’t afraid. And you accepted my presents.” You tilt your head “Presents?” You ponder for a moment “You mean the shell and the white rock?” He nods looking down shyly “I didn’t realize they were from you but now that I know..Thank you they were lovely.” You smile. He looks at your lips and his stretch into a clumsy version of a smile and you can’t help but think of it as endearing. He can talk like humans but perhaps he’s never gotten close enough to learn expressions.
For the next few days every morning a new item would wash up on the beach and be added to your shelf and each night you sat in the same spot and talked to him for hours. Caspain, you later learned was his name.
He didn’t show it at the beginning but he was very excited to talk to a human. You were the first human he was able to talk to. All the others ran away screaming when they saw him and they never showed again. Except for you.
One night when you showed up expecting him to be waiting for you like always you didn’t find him only an open clam with a big pearl in the middle. It’s decorated with shells and smaller pearls like someone made it themselves.
You remembered you didn’t get your usual present that morning. Smiling softly you crouch down to pick it up. You had told him many times he didn’t need to bother with so many presents but he didn’t seem interested in stopping.
Your fingertips barely graze the surface of the shell when a hand shoots out of the water and grips your wrist making your heart shoot out of your chest.
His head emerges out of the water “You accept.” He mutters, voice low “What?” Your voice comes out breathless “You accept.” He repeats. Fierce determination sparking in his eyes.
He harshly pulls your arm and your body falls into the water. Water rushes into your mouth and you kick your legs to try and swim up to the surface but it’s no use when his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you back down and presses you flush against his body.
You squirm in his hold but it doesn’t deter him. His body moves quickly as he takes you deeper into the water. Small fish life around becoming a blur of color as you both shoot down deeper.
Your lungs burn and black spots dot your vision. The last thing you see is him glancing at you then looking around with panic in his eyes. You feel your body being tugged abruptly to another direction before your vision goes black
THIS FIC IS GOING TO HAVE MORE THAN TWO PARTS! ITS DIFFERENT THIS TIME! I SWEAR! *I scream as they drag me back to the white padded room*
You can find this dark-fantasy novel on Amazon as a physical copy, and on Itch.io as an Ebook! The first chapter is also available on Itch.io as a free demo. See the masterpost here!
Prince Syr and Royal Guard, Raoul, have faced an agonizing personal betrayal. They are fleeing Europa, amidst 10 other unsuspecting souls.
Rurik, a mage from the north, battles an undecipherable plague. Danon, whose home has been destroyed, seeks a world away from war and civil uprising. A man torn apart by love makes a horrible mistake. And within the bloodthirsty Empire of Gaule, a guard of five mages has been summoned to fulfill an unspeakable order by the Duc.
All will convene in the most Wretched of Lands, led by the gods towards an inescapable destiny. They will soon learn that struggle is futile, as fate always falls As the Gods Will.
* This novel features LGBT+ characters, alternate history, and realistically-horrific magic! But it also includes adult themes (gore, obsession, abuse, and sexual assault), and is 18+.
(I remembered sonic and the black knight game and thought of a yandere sonic medieval au so hopefully you guys like it.)
Since there's a world where knight versions of the sonic characters exist. Imaging y/n being transported into this medieval version of the sonic characters and just imagining y/n being a prince or royal in this universe and many suitors come to claim y/n's hand but y/n royal knights keep them away seeing the suitors as unworthy. But since our y/n has no idea what the hell is going on, they try to escape but stumble upon this version of eggman who is maybe a blacksmith and has a metal sonic that's just kinda armor that's the same color and resembles kinda like sonic.
Knight shadow: "My monarch, I wish to take your hand in marriage as so I can protect you from the corruption in this world."
"royal" y/n: "...I'm going to honest with you. I have no idea what's going on dude. Like I'm trying to get back to my world and don't know about this whole... knight thing you got going on."
Y/n doesn't remember what this royal y/n but everyone else in the kingdom thinks eggman had something to do with this as y/n was kidnapped and locked away in the wicked kingdom for a bit until their rescue. But I image y/n just trying to find a way home and thinks Amy could help but can't find her due to royal duties and other stuff but y/n is trying their hardest to find a way back home.
Or if it's taking place in the actual game if sonic and the black knight.
I love to image y/n is a prince or monarch of a kingdom that helps shelter sonic. Y/n is kinda more in Prince (or something similar to that.) status because they aren't married to another so aren't technical king or a full monarch but does still take care of the people and kingdom the best that the can. I do image y/n is kind alike princess peach and does get kidnapped by eggman as he's kinda like a evil kingdom I guess? And wants the power of his kingdom and y/n's kingdom to merge to create the most powerful kingdom in the world. I do image y/n still has their royal knights of shadow, blaze and knuckles but sometimes the chaotics who are kinda like mercenaries come around to the kingdom to try and pitch their services to y/n but if declined them goes on to the civilians to pitch their job services.
I like to image metal sonic is a knight or maybe a false king that y/n's knight mistake sonic of being but until y/n calms them down and sees sonic as not metal sonic.
(Anyways! Hopefully you guys like that! If you do and want more please don't be shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's you have! But for now please stay safe and drink water!)
If I had a nickel for every time I started fixating on a video game character that is a humanoid entity, has horrifying abilities/powers and that is also obsessed with the player, I would have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice-
Also for context, the guy in the first image is John Doe (from the game “JOHN DOE”) and the other one is Lenny/The Obsessed (from the Minecraft mod “The Obsessed”)
{This was supposed to be a kinktober but I had a rough week so it'll be weekly ones from now on :)}
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑ ‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑
Currently, your little king omega Casper was in heat. The poor baby was writhing in pain begging for your touch, your scent, your body. Poor Casper moaned and whimpered as he curled into his nest silently begging for you.
When you walked into the bedroom you stood in the doorway taking in the sight of your omega writhing in his nest slick dripping down his plump thighs…it was a sight worth admiring. Casper was moaning and whimpering as his fingers worked his slick hole. His face and chest planted down on the bed and his ass in the air putting him on display for everyone to see. You close the bedroom door gently and take off your clothes walking towards the bed, you get between his legs, the bed dipping with your weight.
Casper gasped, feeling you move his fingers out.
“I think you've loosened enough” you whispered in his ear.
“A-ah…m/n...please” He begged, shaking his hips lewdly.
You positioned yourself outside his hole gently pushing your tip in to test the waters. Casper moaned his back arching as he pushed back against you, taking your whole length. You didn't hold back giving your little omega what he wanted. His sweet sounds like music to your ears. It didn't take long for him to reach his high, whining as he cummed. His small dick spurting onto the bed, he moaned louder eyes rolling as he felt your knotting form catching his rim.
Before I start ANYTHING. I wanna say that this is NOT a fully original idea, I thought about it BUT it was already done by this (possible) human being. Check the original here:
💬 0 🔁 4 ❤️ 60 · ♡ Welcome Aboard… ♡ · Navi
About Your Captain
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——
Anyway, with the needed callout, let’s continue with your regularly scheduled writing.
——
Yandere Dead By Daylight x Male Reader
Killers edition
Warnings: Take a guess homie.
——
M/n, the infamous, entities servant, was currently preparing the shop. A shop that killers often visit. Either for outfits or weapons. It was a way for the entity to make them more… emotional. Killers using weapons they preferred, or wearing clothes they liked often led to more emotions in the trial for it to fed on.
Currently, a guest was in ‘his’ rather large shop. The onryō. The ghost never seemed to leave his side, always there, always nearby if not out right beside him. She never spoke, yet they’d have full conversations, and m/n could tell, with his excruciatingly limited knowledge on emotions, she seemed to like his presence.
M/n: Miss Onryō. I must ask you to leave. The guests will arrive soon, and only 4 may be in here at a time—
The door was slammed shut, and snapped locked. M/n turned to face the door, seeing the guests outside the door looking, at first, confused. Then enraged. With his genetically implanted stoicism, he turned to face sadako. A look of rage on her face. Rage mixed with possessiveness and obsession, dosed with a need to keep him for herself.
M/n: Onryō. I must ask you contain yourself. Their trial is next. Unlock the door.
He asked as she shuffled to him, then leaning against him. Her head on his chest. M/n stared down, he felt his hands struggle against something familiar, sadako’s powers. She tried to move his hands to do.. something. But, due to his eternal role as the entities servant, AND creation of the entity, nothing could harm him nor control him besides the entity.
This seemed to anger sadako further. Whatever she wished for him to do, she couldn’t do it. She looked up at his eyes, and her anger subsided, becoming a soft frustration instead. Her one visible eye holding an extraordinarily rare softness.
M/n did nothing. After all, if this is what it takes to calm her, she’ll be more effective in the trials. A note to keep for later. However, before anything else could happen, sadako was surrounded by a dark fog. Her one visible eye shooting open and staring at him as she reached out to grab him, but it was too late, she disappeared, leaving m/n alone.
The servant stared for a second at the spot the onryō was in, before turning around and walking to the door, opening it for his new guests.
“Yoooo! Took you a while man. Was someone else in here?” His new guest said as he waltzed in with his friends. “Hello, Frank Morrison of the legion. What can I do you for, and your fellow associates”
The legion. A close-knit gang of murderers in the entities realm. Frank Morrison, the leader. Julie Kostenko, the lover of Frank. Susie Lavoie, the empathic of the group. And joey Cadogan, the most normal out of this group. Frank wrapped an arm around m/n’s neck while Julie leaned against a glass case infront of them and the other two looked around the shop.
Frank: Come on~ drop the formal bullshit man. Told ya to call me frank.
M/n: Very well. My apologies Frank. What can I do for you?
Julie: Can’t we visit our favorite servant?
Julie said with a chuckle as she also leaned against him. Susie came up to him and showed off a mask from ‘his’ shop.
Susie: Hey, I think this’ll look good on you
Joey: Pair it up with this jacket and he’s practically one of us!
Frank: What’re you talking about dumbass? He already IS one of us.
Frank said as he pulled out a legion smiling pin and lightly stabbed it into m/n’s clothes. Officially making him a member of the legion.
Julie: Now he just needs the get up!
M/n: …These items are meant for the killers who participate in the trials. Not for me. Do you wish to purchase these items?
He asked as everyone’s faces fell into a slight frown, clearly displeased with this answer. Frank rolled his eyes, ever the delinquent he placed the mask on m/n’s face.
Frank: Well? What do we think?
He asked as he showed off the now masked servant, as if he were a prize he just won. M/n simply stood there, sighing. The things he had to do to keep killers emotional. M/n moved to remove the mask, but was stopped by Julie grabbing his wrist softly.
Julie: It looks sick as fuck!
It was a dull colored mask, same color as Frank’s. Blood dripped from the top and stopped below the eye holes. A crooked smile carved onto it and black voids in place of where the eyeholes would be on the mask, with a white dot on both black voids.
Susie: Yeah! It looks good on you m/n!
Joey: Now all he needs is a knife and jacket!
Julie: I’ll pick out the outfit with Susie.
Joey: Frank, let’s find this guy a knife.
M/n: Your trial starts in 2 minutes. If you so wish, we can continue this AFTER your respective trials end.
He announced as he snapped his fingers. Putting the mask back where Frank got it. Everyone groaned, clearly disheartened by their short time and annoyed by m/n’s continuous robotic responses. This was a way of torture, it had to be. Making something so… eye catching yet never being able to make him react or act how they want.
Frank: Fine. Whatever. Best believe this ain’t over pretty boy.
Frank said as he left with a wave of his hand. Julie and Joey patted his back and Susie left with a wave. Leaving the servant alone in the shop. M/n turned and flicked his hand, clearing the shop from all of the legions outfits and replacing it with other killers outfit. He turned and walked out of the shop.
He walked, seemingly aimlessly. Heading towards a different location in the realm, only to be stopped by yet another killer. The Huntress and The Trickster
Trickster: Hey hey, pretty boy~ headed somewhere? We could use your help.
M/n: Hello trickster. Are you in need of more targets?
Trickster: Read my mind~
He said with a smile. M/n conjured up multiple dummies that had life inbued into them, making them bleed, wiggle, and run. The huntresses eyes gleamed with a sadistic high as she ran towards them. The trickster followed suit, his own eyes wide with craze. As he turned, he saw black. A black outfit, slightly down up he saw a xenomorph.
The alien hissed at him, making him kneel down and lay his hand on the xenomorphs head. A thing m/n learned it liked. However, it only seemed to like it when he did it. The alien wrapped its tail around his leg and walked around him, making m/n sit down.
M/n: What is it you want, xenomorph?
He asked as it hissed. M/n could usually understand it, as he had practice with other killers that don’t or can’t speak.. that and the implanted understanding of these types of killers by the entity.
The xenomorph turned back and hissed, making the servant look up and see other xenomorphs approaching. The four began to communicate with each other while cuddling close with m/n, like a bunch of cats. The first xenomorph walked up, handing him a bundle of flesh. Food, for them, and they’re giving it to him… interesting. Do they view him as one of them?
Nonetheless, he took it and thanked them, in his apathetic voice and dead eyes. He noticed that they hadn’t moved, simply hissing quietly and watching him. They wanted him to eat. So, he did, opening his mouth and placing the flesh in it and began chewing.
Wet. The flesh was wet. And raw.. at least, he assumed it was. He never needed to eat, so he doesn’t know how or what this is supposed to taste like. Nor who or what the ‘donor’ of this flesh was. He swallowed and looked down at them, and they looked pleased… as pleased as a xenomorph could look. They walked away, pleased that ‘one of their own’ was fed well.
M/n blinked and turned around, continuing to walk to his desired location. As he walked, he was waved at by multiple killers, and he simply nodded. He looked ahead and saw a sickly looking woman. The plague, either wise known as adiris.
Adiris: My great greetings, messenger of god.
She said, bowing with respect. Her body moving with nothing short of perfection. Adiris, a loyal killer and devoted religious woman to the entity. And as m/n is a servant… well, more so an extension of the entities in adiris’s eyes. Much like her devotion to the entity, it was the same for m/n, she was obsessed with him and even protective of him. Weather it’s his physical, mental, spirit, or reputation. Anything about him, she would defend without a question.
M/n: Adiris. How am I be of assistance?
Adiris: I wish to assist you in whatever you find me wiling to do. Anything, please. How may I be of service? May I grasp upon thee?
M/n: …sure
He said as adiris grabbed his hands, her thumbs caressing his inner hands. Her thumbs moved ever so slightly, her hands grasping his with a mixture of soft yet obsessive roughness. Treating him like the last diamond in the universe.
M/n: Adiris. I’m needed at the survivors camp.
The plagues hands twitched ever so slightly. Other killers that heard this, turned and faced him. M/n going to the survivors camp means he won’t be HERE for a while, a LONG while. And they sure as shit didn’t like the idea of that. A few approached him.
Chucky: Hey, relax there kid. Why the fuck would you bore yourself by going to them?
Knight: The doll speaks true. You aren’t needed to be around the patheticness of those lesser creatures.
Amanda: I could use your help. I need to test out my new traps—
Adiris: Enough!
She said, her voice slightly raised.
Adiris: You will not stop my gods messenger for completing his task! Any attempts to do so and I’ll kill you all!
She announced, her eyes glaring down with a threatening promise of murder. However, in her attempt to protect m/n’s task, she forgot that she speaks an ancient language, one that no one but m/n and the entity understands, but the killers understood the glare she gave them.
Knight: Stand down priestess. Or I shall cut you down!
M/n: I do not have time to assist you today Mr Young. I must make haste.
Chucky: Oh come on kid. Why are you possibly even going to them? They’re just a bunch of brats! Well.. except Nicholas and ash.
Chucky said, fanboying ever so slightly. 
M/n: Survivor Quintin Smith. He has trouble sleeping alone.
The knight let out a disgusted ‘tch’. Obviously annoyed and.. well, disgusted at such weakness
Knight: why do you concern yourself with such patheticness! Let him wheep in his tears and drown in them alone!
M/n: I am unable to allow that. All survivors must be a peak physicality and mentality for the entity to feed on emotions more. Therefore, I must trouble myself with him.
Pig: And how will you possibly help him? You’re not gonna sleep with him, right?
M/n: That is the plan, pig.
Everyone fell silent. Staring at m/n with disbelief. No way right? No fucking way a survivor gets to sleep with him!!
Chucky: What the fuck was that?!
M/n: Quintin smith is able to rest peacefully whenever I am in the same room. I merely sit on a chair and let him talk his way to sleep.
Oh.. well that was better than what they thought. But still. Unexpected. However, m/n left, disappearing in a thick black fog. The killers stare at where m/n stood, a look of disgust and hatred in their eyes.
——
The end.
Was this good? If I continue this, how should it continue?
Now they're trapped in a room with her sleeping body—and a host who's about to show them everything.
The Jester has been playing the fool since the day she arrived.
In the garbage wasteland of Gachiakuta, she cartwheeled into the Pit with painted smiles and jingling bells, annoying everyone she met while secretly healing their wounds and whispering their deepest traumas into their ears. The Cleaners thought she was a nuisance. The Raiders thought she was a joke. Now she's gone—vanished to the Sphere to play princess—and they'd burn the world down to get her back.
In the hero-saturated world of My Hero Academia, she crashed into U.A. with glitter pens and stolen pudding, determined to fail the entrance exam and disappear into obscurity. Instead, she became the Symbol of Balance. The human heart of heroism. The quirkless girl who stared down All For One and laughed. Now she's unconscious in a hospital bed, and the villains who want her blood are standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the heroes who'd die for her.
Neither realm knows the other exists.
Neither realm knows the truth about her.
Maria knows.
She's the blonde-haired, red-eyed menace who dragged them all into a pocket dimension—past selves and present, heroes and villains, Cleaners and Raiders—and stripped away their powers. Now they're trapped in a theater in space, forced to watch the Jester's greatest hits on a massive screen.
The 90%: her chaos. Her silliness. The mask she wears so well.
The 10%: her fury. Her menace. The death glare that makes gods hesitate.
And the one thing she's never shown anyone: her bare face, peaceful in sleep, looking like an angel who fell too far and forgot how to fly back up.
They're not ready.
But they're about to find out
Welcome to the Observation Deck.
A reaction fic like no other. Two universes collide. Fifty-plus characters. Past and present. Obsession, chaos, and a sleeping girl who has no idea she's the most dangerous thing in the room.
THE FALL
The first sign that something was wrong was the silence.
Not the quiet of a hospital room at three in the morning—the beeping machines, the distant squeak of rubber soles on linoleum, the soft rustle of someone turning in a chair they weren't supposed to fall asleep in. No. This was a different silence. The kind that pressed against eardrums. The kind that meant the air itself had been replaced with something else.
Izuku Midoriya felt it before he saw it.
One moment, his hand was wrapped around the Jester's—cold, too cold, her fingers limp and pale without the usual paint that covered every inch of visible skin. The next moment, the floor gave, and he was falling through light that wasn't light, through space that wasn't space, through a scream that died in his throat because there was no air to carry it.
Katsuki Bakugo hit the ground like a bomb that forgot how to explode.
He landed in a crouch, palms slamming against a floor that felt like polished stone but hummed like something alive. His first instinct—the instinct drilled into him since he was four years old—was fire. Quirk. Explosion. Move.
Nothing happened.
His palms itched. They sparked. A pathetic, damp fizzle that wouldn't have lit a candle.
"What the—" He whipped his head up, scanning. Hospital gown? No. He was in his hero costume. The same one he'd been wearing when he walked into her room. When did that— "HEY! WHERE THE HELL IS THIS?!"
His voice echoed. Too much. The walls were wrong. The ceiling was wrong. Everything was white—not the warm white of U.A.'s hallways, but a sterile, infinite white that stretched in every direction like the inside of a cloud that had been dead for a thousand years.
And the windows.
The walls weren't walls. They were glass. Endless, seamless glass that showed a sky full of stars that didn't match any constellation Bakugo had ever seen. Stars that swirled. Stars that bled into each other. Stars that hung in a void so deep and black it looked like the universe had swallowed its own tongue.
They were in space.
Shota Aizawa's eyes snapped open.
He hadn't realized they'd closed. The fall had been disorienting—not painful, but wrong, like his body had been folded through a dimension it wasn't designed to survive. He was standing. When did he stand? His capture weapon was wrapped around his neck. His goggles were pushed up on his forehead. His feet were planted.
All of them. Class 1-A. Scattered across the white floor, picking themselves up, checking for injuries, reaching for quirks that weren't answering.
"Everyone stay where you are," Aizawa said. His voice was flat. Controlled. The voice he used when he was calculating exactly how many bones he was willing to break to get his kids home safe. "Don't move until I tell you to."
"Eraserhead." All Might's voice. Toshinori Yagi, gaunt and hollow-chested, was climbing to his feet near the glass wall. He was in his hero costume too—the silver age suit, the one he rarely wore anymore. "The students—"
"Are accounted for." Aizawa was already moving, weaving through the group, a head count running behind his eyes. "Nezu?"
"Here!" The principal's voice came from somewhere near the back. Nezu was sitting on a floating tray of snacks—snacks—that hadn't been there a moment ago. He was holding a cup of tea. His whiskers twitched. "Fascinating. We appear to have been transported to a pocket dimension with artificial gravity, breathable atmosphere, and..." He sniffed the tea. "Chamomile. My favorite. Our host knows me."
"Host?" Todoroki's voice. Quiet. Dangerous. He was standing apart from the others, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on something across the room. "There are other people here."
Aizawa turned.
The room was divided.
Not by walls or barriers, but by time.
Above each section, floating in holographic light, were labels that shifted between languages everyone could somehow read:
LEFT SIDE — THE PAST
GACHIAKUTA — BEFORE THEY KNEW HER
MHA — BEFORE SHE ARRIVED
RIGHT SIDE — THE PRESENT
GACHIAKUTA — AFTER SHE DISAPPEARED
MHA — THE HOSPITAL VIGIL
On the left side—the Past—stood the versions of these people who had never met the Jester. Or rather, who had met her but hadn't yet understood her. They wore the same clothes as their future selves, but their eyes were different. Less haunted. Less hungry.
The Past Cleaners stood in a loose cluster near a set of salvaged-metal benches. Rudo Surebrec—younger, angrier, still wearing the gloves he didn't fully understand—was staring at his own hands with confusion. Enjin stood beside him, arms crossed, his easy smile not quite reaching his eyes. Zanka was gripping his staff that wouldn't work. Riyo was watching the room with sharp, calculating eyes.
Near them, the Past Raiders kept their distance. Zodyl sat on a crate, legs crossed, watching everything with the patience of a predator who hadn't decided whether to strike. Jabber Wonger was laughing—a high, sharp sound—and spinning a coin between his fingers. Cthoni perched on a stack of debris, her legs swinging. Noerde stood apart, her arms folded, her expression unreadable.
And on the far left, the Past (more like—ahem.. nevermind.. you'll know soon enough why this realm is a jit different) MHA cast huddled together like lost children. Class 1-A in their gym uniforms, fresh-faced and untested. Aizawa with both eyes still functioning properly. All Might in his muscle form, still the Symbol of Peace, still whole. The villains—Shigaraki, Toga, Dabi, Twice, the rest—were scattered in their own section, separated from the heroes by an invisible line that everyone respected and no one questioned.
On the right side—the Present—stood the versions of these people who had lived through the Jester.
They were the same people. But they were not the same.
Present Rudo stood with his back straight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes were fixed on the center of the room—on the sleeping girl none of them had ever seen without her paint—and his expression was territorial. Hungry. He looked like a man who had lost something precious and had just found it again.
Present Enjin stood beside him, his easygoing smile long gone. In its place was something harder. Something that said try me without a single word.
Present Zanka was holding a staff that wouldn't activate, but his knuckles were white. His jaw was tight. His eyes never left the Jester's face.
Present Riyo had tears in her eyes. She wasn't trying to hide them.
Near them, the Present Raiders were vibrating. Present Zodyl was leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, his dark eyes fixed on the sleeping girl with an intensity that made the air around him feel heavy. Present Jabber was pressed against the railing of his section, his fingers curled around the metal, his grin too wide and his eyes too bright. Present Cthoni kept flexing her fingers, testing for powers that wouldn't come. Present Noerde stood with her arms crossed, her jaw tight, her gaze flicking between the Jester and everyone else in the room.
And on the far right, the Present MHA cast was a study in exhaustion and obsession.
Present Midoriya had dark circles under his eyes. His notebook was clutched to his chest, pages and pages filled with notes about her—her habits, her secrets, her safety risks. He hadn't slept in three days. Not since she collapsed.
Present Bakugo stood with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders tight, his ears red. He wasn't looking at anyone else. He was looking at her. Only her.
Present Todoroki had been researching tarot for weeks. He understood The Fool now. He understood The Hope. He understood that she had been trying to tell them something, and none of them had listened.
Present Aizawa looked like he hadn't slept in a decade. His capture weapon was wrapped around his neck, useless. His eyes were fixed on the Jester's sleeping form with an expression that was equal parts exhaustion and fury—not at her. At himself. For not protecting her better.
Present All Might sat in a chair that seemed too small for him, his gaunt frame folded in on itself. He had brought her strawberry milk in the hospital. He had cried when she told him he was still a hero. He was still crying now, just a little, just silently.
Present Nezu was very still. His whiskers didn't twitch. His paws were folded in his lap. He was watching the Jester with the expression of someone who had made a miscalculation and was trying to figure out how to fix it.
Present Shigaraki sat in the villain section, his fingers curled into claws, scratching at the armrest of his chair. His eyes were dark hollows beneath his father's hand. He was staring at the Jester like she was the only real thing in the room.
Present Toga was vibrating. She was perched on the edge of her seat, her hands pressed together, her eyes wide and sparkling. She wanted to touch. She wanted to taste. She wanted to become.
Present Dabi leaned against the back of his chair, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. But he wasn't relaxed. He was watching. He was always watching.
Between them all, in the center of the room, was the floating platform.
And on it, curled on her side with her hands tucked under her cheek, was the Jester.
She was asleep.
Her face was bare.
No paint. No bells. No cards clutched in her fingers. Her hair—dark, longer than anyone had ever seen it, spilling across the velvet like ink—was free of its usual messy buns. Her costume was gone, replaced by something soft and white and simple. A nightgown. She was wearing a nightgown.
She looked young.
She looked tired.
She looked like someone who had finally, finally stopped running.
THE HOST
A flicker of light at the front of the room.
A stage materialized—black lacquer, curved like a crescent moon, surrounded by floating screens that displayed static and spinning question marks. At the center of the stage stood a control panel covered in buttons, levers, and stickers of smiling animals.
And behind the control panel, hopping up onto it to sit cross-legged, was a girl.
She was young. Maybe twenty. Maybe younger. Her hair was blonde—pale, almost white in the strange light—pulled into messy pigtails that stuck out at odd angles. Her eyes were red. Bright, sharp, hungry red, like fresh blood or polished rubies. She wore a dress covered in question marks that seemed to shift and change every time someone looked away. Her boots were covered in doodles. Her smile was too wide.
She was holding a microphone.
She tapped it.
Tap. Tap.
The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot.
"HELLO, OBSESSED WEIRDOS!"
Everyone flinched.
Maria—for that was her name, though no one had said it yet—grinned. Her red eyes swept across the room, cataloguing, enjoying.
"Welcome to the Observation Deck! I'm your host, Maria, and I have been waiting for this." She spun in a circle, her heels clicking against the stage, her pigtails flying. "Oh, don't give me those looks. You're all confused. You're all scared. You all want to know why you're here and when you can leave and why your powers don't work." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the control panel. "The answer to all of those questions is: you can't."
Bakugo lunged forward. "THE HELL WE CAN'T—"
"SIT." Maria pointed at him. The word wasn't loud. But Bakugo sat. His body moved without his permission. His eyes went wide with fury and something that might have been fear.
"What did you do to me?!" he snarled.
"I told you to sit," Maria said. "And you sat. Because in this room, I'm the one with the power. Not you. Not All Might. Not your weird trash scavenger friends." She gestured at the Gachiakuta side. "None of you have any control here. So let's get that straight right now."
She pressed a button on her control panel.
The massive screen behind her flickered to life.
"Here's how this works. You're all here because of her." She pointed at the sleeping Jester. "She doesn't know you're watching. She can't see you. She can't hear us. She's just... sleeping. Dreaming. Being annoyingly peaceful while the rest of you lose your minds."
Maria hopped off the control panel and walked to the edge of the stage, her boots dangling over the void.
"Your job is to watch. To react. To finally understand who the hell you've been obsessing over." Her smile widened. Her red eyes sparkled. "And my job is to show you."
She pressed another button.
The screen split into two sections.
On the left: a video file labeled "GACHIAKUTA — PAST."
On the right: a video file labeled "MHA — PAST."
Above both, in massive, neon-pink letters: 90%
"Let's start with something fun," Maria said.
The screen flickered.
And the Jester—painted, bells jingling, eyes sparkling with mischief—cartwheeled into view.
GACHIAKUTA — THE PIT
PAST TIMELINE — BEFORE THEY KNEW HER
The footage was grainy, like it had been recorded on a salvaged camera or pulled from someone's memory. But the Jester was sharp. Clear. Impossible.
She was dangling upside down from a pipe.
Rudo Surebrec was standing beneath her, trying to read a piece of paper. His jaw was tight. His shoulders were tense. He looked like a man who had been dealing with this for hours and was about five seconds from losing his mind.
Jester (on screen): "RUDO. RUDO. RUDOOOO."
Rudo (on screen), not looking up: "What."
Jester: "I'm bored."
Rudo: "Not my problem."
Jester: "I'm going to make it your problem."
She dropped from the pipe, landed in front of him, and poked his cheek.
Boop.
Rudo's head snapped up. "WHAT—"
Boop.
"STOP—"
Boop.
"I WILL THROW YOU INTO THE TRASH—"
Boop.
"I'M SERIOUS—"
Jester: "You're adorable when you're angry."
Rudo's face went red. His hands clenched. His mouth opened and closed like a fish having an existential crisis.
Rudo: "I am not adorable."
Jester: "You're right. You're aggressively adorable. There's a difference."
She cartwheeled away before he could grab her.
In the theater, the Past Cleaners stared at the screen with varying degrees of confusion and horror.
Past Rudo (the one who didn't know her yet, the one who had just been teleported into space and stripped of his powers) watched himself get poked in the cheek and felt something strange twist in his chest.
"Who is she?" he asked again. "Why am I letting her touch me?"
Present Rudo (the one who had searched for her, who had bled for her, who had watched her disappear) didn't answer.
He was watching the screen with an expression that made the people around him uncomfortable. His eyes were dark. His jaw was set. And when Past Rudo spoke, Present Rudo's hands tightened into fists.
"Shut up," he said. His voice was low. Rough. "You don't know anything. You don't know how good you have it. She's annoying you because she wants to annoy you. Because she likes you. Because she's trying to make you feel something other than rage and grief and the weight of the world."
He took a breath.
"I'd give anything for her to annoy me like that right now."
The Past Cleaners went quiet.
Past Enjin (who had been watching with a small, amused smile) stopped smiling.
Present Enjin (who had seen the Jester bleed, who had watched her heal his team, who had stood in the garden she built and realized she was trying to give them a future they wouldn't need her for) said nothing. But he moved.
Subtly. Quietly.
He positioned himself between the Present Cleaners and the rest of the room. A wall. A barrier.
No one was getting near the Jester's sleeping form without going through him.
The footage continued.
A montage. Fast cuts. The Jester annoying everyone.
Clip: The Jester stealing food from Zodyl's plate. Not subtly. She reached across the table, grabbed his bread, and took a bite while maintaining eye contact.
Past Zodyl (in the theater) raised an eyebrow. "She stole from me?"
Present Zodyl smiled. Does this person even smile???? Jester what did you do the raiders leader??"She brought me fresh bread the next day. Said the cockroach I was eating was 'beneath my station.'" His smile sharpened. "No one had ever spoken to me like that before."
Clip: The Jester teaching Noerde a card game. Noerde was losing. Badly. Her eye was twitching.
Noerde (on screen): "This game makes no sense."
Jester: "It makes perfect sense. You're just bad at it."
Noerde: "I am not—"
Jester: "You're aggressively bad. There's a difference."
Noerde: "That doesn't even—"
Jester, laying down a winning hand: "Read 'em and weep, sweetheart."
Past Noerde (in the theater) snorted. "I would have killed her."
Present Noerde (who had died, who had come back, who had felt the Jester's fingers brush hers as the hole ripped open) was quiet. Her hands were folded in her lap. Her eyes were fixed on the screen.
"She reached for me," Present Noerde said. Her voice was soft. Barely audible. "At the end. When the trash beast was collapsing. She reached for my hand."
No one replied.
They didn't need to.
Clip: The Jester trying to "help" Shikage clean his weapon. She dropped it. It skidded across the floor. Shikage stared at it. Then at her. Then back at it.
Shikage (on screen): "..."
Jester: "I meant to do that."
Shikage: "You dropped it."
Jester: "I strategically dropped it. To test its durability."
Shikage: "It's a weapon. Not a science experiment."
Jester: "Same thing, sometimes."
Past Shikage (in the theater) pinched the bridge of his nose.
Present Shikage (who had watched the Jester heal Zanka, who had seen her collapse, who had carried her out of the trash beast) said nothing. But his eyes were soft.
Clip: The Jester falling asleep in a pile of fabric. She'd been "organizing" for hours. Actually, she'd been building a nest. When the clip started, she was wrapped in so many layers of cloth that she looked like a caterpillar in a cocoon.
Bundus (on screen): "Is she... sleeping?"
Bro Santa (on screen): "I think so." Who surprisingly agreed to join the jester's adventure to the underground world of the pit... Some future later lmao.
Jester, from inside the cocoon: "The burrito cannot walk. The burrito demands to be carried to the next location."
Bundus: "You're not a burrito."
Jester: "I'm whatever I want to be. Now carry me."
Past Bundus (in the theater) laughed. A genuine, surprised laugh.
Present Bundus (who had watched her cook for thirty-six hours straight, who had eaten her food, who had seen her smile) didn't laugh. His face was soft. Wistful.
"She never let us carry her," he said. "Not really. Not when she was hurt. Not when she was exhausted. She always said she was fine."
He paused.
"She wasn't fine."
MY HERO ACADEMIA — U.A. HIGH SCHOOL
PAST TIMELINE — BEFORE SHE ARRIVED
The screen shifted.
Bright hallways. Clean floors. The smell of disinfectant and youth.
And the Jester—same painted face, same bells, same chaos—walking backward in front of Aizawa.
Jester (on screen): "But Sensei, if you just let me fail the exam, I could go live in a cave somewhere and bother absolutely no one. Think of the peace. The quiet. The—"
Aizawa (on screen), dead-eyed, voice flat: "You're not failing."
Jester: "What if I fail on purpose?"
Aizawa: "Then I'll fail you harder."
Jester: "That doesn't make any sense."
Aizawa: "Welcome to U.A."
In the theater, Past Aizawa (the one who had just been teleported into space, who was still trying to figure out how to protect his students) watched himself on screen and felt a headache forming behind his eyes.
"Is she always like this?" he asked.
Present Aizawa (the one who had watched her collapse in hallways, who had found her training in secret, who had threatened to hunt her down if she didn't stop almost dying) sighed.
"Yes," he said. "And worse. She stole my sleeping bag once. Used it as a blanket during a movie night. Refused to give it back for three days.
Past Aizawa: "And you let her?"
Present Aizawa: "She looked comfortable."
The montage continued.
Clip: The Jester sitting on Kirishima's shoulders during training, yelling "CHARGE, MY STEED" while Kirishima, laughing, ran laps around the gym. Aizawa was yelling at them to stop. The Jester was throwing peace signs at the camera.
Past Kirishima (in the theater) blinked. "Is that... me? Why am I letting her ride me like a horse?"
Present Kirishima (who had cried over her bunny room, who had called her the manliest person he'd ever met, who had watched her stand against All For One) smiled. It was a sad smile.
"Because she asked," he said. "And because she looked happy. She doesn't look happy very often."
Clip: The Jester drawing mustaches on the Class 1-A photos in the hallway. She was using a permanent marker. Mineta was standing beside her, laughing, holding the marker caps.
Mineta (on screen): "This is the best day of my life."
Jester: "We're going to get caught."
Mineta: "Worth it."
Aizawa's shadow fell over them.
Aizawa (on screen): "..."
Jester, without turning around: "Sensei, I can explain."
Aizawa: "You have thirty seconds."
Jester: "Mineta did it." She pointed to mineta no hesitation.
Mineta: "WHAT—"
Jester: "I'm just an innocent bystander. Look at my face. This is the face of innocence."
Her face was covered in marker mustaches. She'd drawn them on herself too.
Past Mineta (in the theater) was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe.
Present Mineta (who had been in the hospital waiting room, who had refused to leave, who had cried when the doctors said she might not wake up) wasn't laughing. He was staring at the screen with wet eyes. His still part of UA even if I didn't like him that much in the past.
"She framed me," he said. "And I let her. Because it was funny. Because she made everything funny." He wiped his nose with his sleeve. "I miss her."
Clip: The Jester falling asleep on Todoroki's shoulder during a movie night. The lights were low. Everyone was scattered across the common room couches. The movie was some action flick no one was paying attention to.
The Jester's head drooped. Her eyes closed. Her breathing slowed.
She slumped against Todoroki's shoulder.
Todoroki froze.
He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't even blink.
Two hours passed in the clip. Two hours of Todoroki sitting perfectly still, one shoulder supporting the weight of a sleeping girl, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on the screen like he was watching something sacred.
When the movie ended, someone—Kaminari, probably—said, "Uh, Todoroki? You know you can move now, right?"
Todoroki didn't answer.
He didn't move.
Past Todoroki (in the theater) watched himself on screen with an expression that was impossible to read.
"Why didn't I move?" he asked, staring intensely at his future self.
Present Todoroki (who had been researching tarot to understand her, who had recognized the rabbit as The Hope, who had seen her exhaustion and her gentleness and her impossible strength) didn't look away from the screen.
"Because she was sleeping," he said. "And because she looked peaceful. She never looks peaceful when she's awake."
Clip: The Jester stealing Kaminari's pudding. She replaced it with a note that said "SORRY NOT SORRY" in glitter pen. Kaminari found the note. Screamed. Chased her through the dorms for twenty minutes.
Past Kaminari (in the theater) was grinning. "She stole my pudding?!"
Present Kaminari (who had watched her bleed, who had carried her to Recovery Girl, who had sat by her hospital bed and talked to her even though she couldn't hear him) nodded.
"She did," he said. "And then she bought me three more the next day. Said she 'felt bad.'" He laughed. It was a wet sound. "She didn't feel bad. She just wanted an excuse to talk to me."
THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS — FUTURE TIMELINE
PRESENT TIMELINE — THE HOSPITAL VIGIL
The screen shifted again.
Darkness. Concrete walls. The smell of decay and desperation.
The League's hideout.
Shigaraki was hunched over a screen, watching news footage. Toga was perched on the back of a couch, kicking her legs. Dabi was leaning against a wall, arms crossed. Twice was pacing. Spinner was sharpening a blade. Mr. Compress was doing card tricks in the corner.
Toga (on screen): "She's so funny. I want to see what her blood looks like. Do you think it sparkles? She seems like her blood would sparkle."
Dabi (on screen): "You're obsessed."
Toga: "I'm curious. There's a difference."
Dabi: "There's not."
Toga: "There is when I'm the one saying it."
Shigaraki (on screen), not looking away from the screen: "She knows things. Things she shouldn't know. About me. About him." His fingers twitched. "I want to know how."
Twice (on screen): "She's probably just guessing! NO, SHE'S DEFINITELY NOT GUESSING, SHE'S TOO ACCURATE—"
Spinner: "Can we focus?"
Mr. Compress: "I think she's delightful. Theatrical. I respect the showmanship."
In the theater, the Present MHA Villains—pulled from the same hospital-timeline as the heroes—were watching with varying degrees of intensity.
Present Shigaraki (seated in the villain section, as far from the heroes as possible) didn't blink. His fingers were curled into claws, scratching at the armrest of his chair.
"She laughed at him," Shigaraki said. His voice was quiet. Almost reverent. "At sensei. She looked him in the eye and laughed. And he—" He stopped. His throat moved. "He hesitated. I've never seen him hesitate."
Present Dabi (leaning against the back of his chair, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded) said nothing. But he wasn't relaxed. He was watching. He was always watching.
Present Toga was practically vibrating. She was perched on the edge of her seat, her hands pressed together, her eyes wide and sparkling.
"I told you," she said. "I told you she was special. She's perfect. She's chaos. She's everything I want to be."
Present Twice: "She's terrifying! I LOVE HER—"
Present Kurogiri: "Quiet."
Present Mr. Compress: "Theatrical. I told you. Theatrical!"
NEZU'S OFFICE
The screen cut to a cozy office. Bookshelves. A chess board. Tea steaming on a low table.
The Jester was sitting across from Nezu. Her posture was different here. Softer. Less performative.
Nezu (on screen): "You knew. About everything. The USJ. The Sports Festival. Stain."
Jester (on screen), setting down her cup: "I knew."
Nezu: "And you didn't tell anyone."
Jester: "Would you have believed me?"
Nezu: "...No."
Jester: "Exactly." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "So I did what I could. Changed what I could. Let the rest happen."
Nezu: "You're carrying a lot."
Jester: "I'm a clown. We're built for heavy loads."
In the theater, Present Nezu was very quiet.
His paws were folded in his lap. His whiskers were still. His beady black eyes were fixed on the screen with an expression that made the people around him uncomfortable.
"She never told me that," Nezu said. "Not in those words. She told me she knew the future. She told me she was trying to change it. But she never told me why she looked so tired."
He was quiet for a long moment.
"I should have asked."
The screen went black.
The neon-pink "90%" vanished.
For a long moment, there was nothing. Just darkness. Just silence. Just the breathing of two dozen people who had no idea what was coming next.
Then the text appeared.
Cold. Bleeding. Crimson.
10%
The screen flickered.
And the Jester stopped smiling.
GACHIAKUTA — THE AMO INCIDENT
PRESENT TIMELINE — THE INCIDENT EVERYONE REMEMBERS
The footage was dark. Chaotic. Threads—Tamsy's threads—were everywhere, binding, hurting.
The Cleaners were scattered. Injured. Riyo was on the ground, clutching her arm. Zanka was pinned against a wall. Rudo was struggling against silver strands that cut into his wrists.
And in the corner of the frame, half-hidden in shadow, was the Jester.
She wasn't moving.
She wasn't joking.
Her painted face was frozen. Her eyes were dead. And she was staring directly at Tamsy with an expression that made the temperature in the theater drop ten degrees.
Jester (on screen), voice flat: "Stop."
Tamsy (on screen), still smiling, still weaving his threads: "I'm helping."
Jester: "You're hurting them."
Tamsy: "Same thing, sometimes."
And the Jester moved.
Not her usual flailing, chaotic movement. This was controlled. Predatory. She crossed the space between them in three steps—three silent steps—and got in Tamsy's face. Her eyes were wide. Unblinking. Her lips were pressed into a thin, bloodless line.
Jester (on screen), quiet enough that the microphone barely caught it: "If you touch them again, I will unmake you. Do you understand me?"
Tamsy's smile faltered.
For just a second.
Tamsy (on screen): "...Understood."
The theater was silent.
Past Tamsy (the one who didn't know her yet, the one who had just been teleported into space) watched himself on screen with a pleasant smile. But his eyes were sharp.
"How interesting," he said. "She looks at me like she knows something."
Present Tamsy (the one who had watched her, studied her, waited) had the same smile. But his eyes were darker. Hungrier.
"She does," Present Tamsy said. "She knows everything." His fingers twitched. "And that glare... I've seen it before. Only once. When she looked at something she wanted to destroy."
He tilted his head.
"I wonder what she sees when she looks at me."
Arkha Corvus (watching from the Cleaners' section) narrowed his eyes. He'd always had suspicions about Tamsy. The way he moved. The way he watched. The way he smiled when no one was looking.
This footage just confirmed a few of them.
"You pulled a stunt that triggered that side of her," Corvus said, his voice low. "I knew you were hiding something, Tamsy."
Present Tamsy: "Everyone's hiding something, Arkha. Even you."
Corvus didn't reply. But his hand moved to his weapon—a reflex, nothing more. His power was gone. But the instinct remained.
Past Enjin (watching from the Cleaners' section, his easygoing smile long gone) was frowning.
"Who is she protecting?" he asked.
Present Enjin (who had seen her bleed, who had watched her heal his team, who had stood in the garden she built and realized she was trying to give them a future they wouldn't need her for) answered quietly.
"Everyone," he said. "She's always protecting everyone. Even the people who don't deserve it."
Past Zanka (watching from the corner of his eye, his arms crossed) grunted.
"She looked like she was about to kill him," he said.
Present Zanka (who had trained with her, who had pushed her, who had watched her collapse and kept going) nodded.
"She would have," he said. "If she'd had to."
Past Rudo (who still didn't understand, who was still watching the screen with confused, angry eyes) spoke without meaning to.
"She's not just a clown, is she?"
Present Rudo (who had searched for her, who had bled for her, who had watched her disappear) didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
MY HERO ACADEMIA — KAMINO WARD
PRESENT TIMELINE — THE BROADCAST THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
The screen shifted.
The sky was dark. Smoke was rising from a dozen fires. The wreckage of a city stretched in every direction.
And in the center of the frame, standing in front of All For One—
Was the Jester.
Her cards were everywhere. Flying in razor-sharp orbits around her body. Her staff was glowing—a warm, golden light that seemed to push back the darkness. And her face—
Her face was terrifying.
Not angry. Not scared. Determined.
The mask was gone. The silliness was gone. The girl who drew mustaches on school photos and stole pudding from her classmates was gone.
In her place was something else.
Something old.
Something that had stared down monsters before and would do it again.
All For One (on screen), amused, his voice echoing through the ruined street: "A quirkless girl. Standing against me. How quaint."
Jester (on screen), voice steady: "I'm not here to fight you. I'm here to make sure you lose."
All For One: "Bold words."
Jester: "I know your name. I know your history. I know every secret you've ever buried." She took a step forward. Her cards spun faster. "And I know that you're lonely. That's why you created him. That's why you can't let him go."
All For One's smile faltered.
Jester: "You're not a god. You're a ghost. And ghosts don't get to win."
The MHA side of the theater was reeling.
Past All Might (the Symbol of Peace, the man who had faced All For One twice and nearly died both times) was pale. His gaunt face was drawn. His hands were trembling.
"She... she stood in front of him," he said. His voice was hoarse. "Without a quirk. Without anything."
Present All Might (who had brought her strawberry milk in the hospital, who had cried when she told him he was still a hero, who had watched her fall and get back up and fall again) nodded slowly.
"She did," he said. "And she won."
Past Endeavor (the Number Two Hero, the man who had spent his entire life chasing All Might's shadow) was staring at the screen with an expression he couldn't name.
"That's the Symbol of Balance?" he asked.
Present Endeavor (who had been trying to live up to All Might's legacy and failing, who had seen the Jester's broadcast, who had realized he would never be what she was) didn't answer.
He was thinking about his son. About the Jester. About all the things he'd done wrong.
Past Hawks (watching from the pro hero section, his wings twitching uselessly) whistled low.
"She's got balls," he said. "I like her."
Present Hawks (who had seen her stand against the darkness and felt hope for the first time in years) smiled. It wasn't a happy smile. It was a knowing one.
"Yeah," he said. "She does."
Past Dabi (from the villain section, his burned skin hidden beneath his coat) was very still.
His eyes were fixed on the screen. On the Jester's face. On the fire in her eyes.
Present Dabi (who had watched the broadcast, who had recognized something in her exhaustion, who had kept her secret for reasons he didn't understand) was watching with an expression that was impossible to read.
But his hands—his burned hands—were trembling.
Past Toga was practically climbing over the couch, her fingers curled into claws, her eyes wide and sparkling.
"She's beautiful like that," she said. "Angry. Fierce. I want to see more."
Present Toga (who had wanted her blood, her smile, her everything) was already standing. She was pressed against the railing of the villain section, leaning as far forward as she could without falling.
"She's everything," Toga breathed. "She's everything and no one sees it—"
Present Twice grabbed her arm. "We see it! NO, WE DON'T, BUT WE'RE TRYING—"
Present Shigaraki (who had watched the broadcast with obsessive fascination, who had fixated on her knowledge, who had felt something crack open in his chest when she called All For One lonely) was silent.
His fingers were curled into claws. His eyes were dark hollows beneath his father's hand.
"She sees through him," Shigaraki said. His voice was quiet. Almost reverent. "She sees through all of them."
The screen split.
On one side: the Jester, staring down Tamsy in the dark. Cards flickering at her fingertips. Eyes dead and cold.
On the other side: the Jester, staring down All For One in the burning street. Staff glowing, cards swarming. Eyes burning with golden fire.
Same expression.
Same menace.
The woman who played the fool—
Was not a fool.
The screen went black.
The harsh red light vanished.
And for a long moment, there was nothing. Just silence. Just the sound of people breathing. Just the weight of what they'd seen pressing down on their chests.
Then Maria spoke.
Her voice was soft. Gentle. Human. Her blonde pigtails hung limp against her shoulders. Her red eyes were no longer sparkling with mischief. They were sad.
"Look at her."
Everyone turned.
The Jester was still asleep.
She hadn't moved. Her hands were still tucked under her cheek. Her hair was still spread across the velvet like ink. Her breathing was still slow and steady and peaceful.
The unhinged menace who had stared down gods and monsters—
Was sleeping like a baby.
She looked young. Younger than any of them had ever seen her. The paint was gone. The mask was gone. The chaos was gone.
All that was left was a girl.
A tired, exhausted girl who had finally stopped running.
Past Rudo stared.
His angry posture had melted. His fists were unclenched. His jaw was loose.
"She... she looks so quiet," he said. His voice was strange. Soft. "When she's not yelling."
Present Rudo didn't answer.
He was already moving.
He stepped off the platform where the Past Cleaners were seated and walked—slowly, deliberately, inexorably—toward the floating couch where the Jester slept.
No one stopped him.
No one could.
He stopped at the edge of the platform and stood there. Not touching her. Not speaking. Just... watching.
"Keep your voices down," he said. His voice was low. Rough. "She's finally resting."
Present Bakugo was already walking.
He'd been standing at the edge of the MHA section since the first video ended, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his eyes fixed on the Jester's face. He hadn't moved. He hadn't spoken. He'd just... watched.
But now he was moving.
He walked down the theater steps, his boots clicking against the white floor, and stopped beside Rudo.
"Get away from her, trash-boy," Bakugo said. His voice was quiet. Dangerous. "I'm the one who handles her when she's done with everything."
Present Rudo didn't look at him.
"I'm not moving," he said.
Present Bakugo didn't look at him either.
"Neither am I."
Present Shigaraki stood up.
His boots clicked against the floor. His hands were at his sides, fingers twitching, nails scratching against his palms.
"Both of you are loud," he said. His voice was soft. Almost gentle. "She belongs in the dark. Where no one can bother her anymore."
He started walking.
Present Toga followed.
So did Present Dabi.
So did Present Twice and Present Mr. Compress and Present Spinner.
The villains moved as a unit—not coordinated, not organized, but inevitable. Like gravity. Like the tide.
They stopped at the edge of the platform.
They looked at the sleeping Jester.
And they waited.
Present Enjin was standing now.
His easygoing smile was gone. His eyes were sharp. He moved to stand beside Rudo—not in front of him, not behind him, but beside him. A wall.
Present Zanka followed. His hand was on a weapon that wouldn't activate, but his stance was ready.
Present Riyo stood with them. Her face was pale. Her hands were shaking. But she didn't step back.
Present Jabber was laughing.
It was a high, sharp sound, like glass breaking.
"Oh, this is perfect," he said. "This is exactly what I wanted." He stepped onto the platform, his boots silent, his grin too wide. "She's going to wake up and see all of us. And she's going to have to choose."
Present Noerde grabbed his arm.
"She's not choosing anyone," Noerde said. Her voice was flat. "She's sleeping. Let her sleep."
Present Jabber looked at her. His grin didn't move.
"Make me."
The tension in the room was unbearable.
Heroes and villains. Cleaners and Raiders. Past and present.
All of them standing at the edge of a floating platform.
All of them staring at a sleeping girl.
All of them ready to fight.
Maria floated above them, eating popcorn.
Her blonde pigtails bounced as she chewed. Her red eyes sparkled with barely contained glee.
"Oh, this is getting so good," she said. "Go ahead, boys and girls. Fight for her. She won't wake up anyway."
She popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth and crunched.
"She never does." Or will she? The author prefers if she shut up for a bit.
