#BUT LIKE ONE PROBLEM THAT HAD MUTATED INTO THREE OTHER PROBLEMS IS NOW SOLVED

[galwaygremlin]

STORYTIME PART TWO

well, part-two to this specific story

TLDR I fixed a car problem in a very Lise way

went to my old roommate’s house to pick up my mail and catch up with him, borrowed his drill while I was there to try and get the stripped screw out of my air filter housing; that Did Not Work and in fact we made it worse. he tells me to go to a junkyard to replace the whole air filter housing. I spend this morning calling every used auto parts vendor in Houston to find this Apparently Very Specific car part, only one place has one and it’s in Pasadena, I drive over there pleading with my truck not to break down on the highway, pick up the part, scoot to a mostly-empty parking lot to do my repairs, and discover the part I’ve picked up is about 90% similar to the one I already have.

The 10% difference ends up being PRETTY CRUCIAL. I can’t connect the box to the hose that like, sends air in there or whatever. I dismantle the one I already have and put my NEW mass air flow sensor on the new one, which fits, but just barely. I take the MAF sensor that was still attached to the new box and spray that (by itself) and the old one (still in the old box) with MAF sensor cleaner, hoping that helps at all. I then just kinda... start poking at the old box with a flathead screwdriver because I have, like, MOST OF A SOLUTION HERE but I don’t know what to do.

In the middle of this some guy in a van rolls up and asks me for directions to a post office but his Google Maps was set to, like, Virginia? So I tried to help him out, I hope he got where he wanted to go.

Poking things with screwdrivers has generally worked out well for me in the past and it CAME THROUGH FOR ME AGAIN as a viable plan of action, because I ended up brute-force-ripping the old MAF sensor out without damaging the air filter box.

I’m not sure how many times I’ve used the phrase “Well I’ll be damned” in my life, but this afternoon saw that phrase skyrocket into my vernacular, because I did not think that strategy would work out so well.

Put the new sensor in the old box, put everything in my engine block back together, rolled out, no more check engine light, HAPPY DAYS.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

How long was Mikey trapped in the EPF facility? And how fast acting were the mutations? It kinda sounds like the scientists put him through several rounds of injections over a period of time.

Are there multiple facilities? Did Mikey get moved to a different location or stay in the one he was captured at?

Mikey’s bros had to be losing their minds looking for him, or planning a foolproof strategy to break in and rescue him from the place they knew he disappeared.

Love the double mutated Mikey updates but GIRL! SLEEP!

So Mikey was trapped in the EPF building for one week, if I remember right. Maybe less... The mutations began the very night as he was captured. They were near instantaneous changes in his body, but they were spaced out. So one day he would get injections for a specific species, the next day he got a different species, etc. But the mutation operations mostly ended on day four or five.

In addition to the species mutations, they also added their own formulas and mixtures to try and enhance certain aspects of the species, such as a reptile's brumation and infrared vision, super hearing, how he can weaponize his tails and create exoskeleton armor or quills with his scales, the ability to make his bones be triple-jointed and flexible as a snake or rigid and immovable as iron, etc. I'm pretty sure that they reverse-engineered Draxum's ooze from a mosquito sample and used that on him as well as Krang DNA. Mikey has a lot of abilities now, some are obvious, others have yet to reveal themselves... I'm really excited to share one in particular.

There are probably a bunch of EPF hidden bases, but Mikey stayed at one lab, the one he broke into. He was in one of three rooms for the entire time he was there -- either the open labs where he was in a cage, the operating room where he was mutated, or what I'm calling "the Interaction room", which was an empty room with some strange devices and security cameras where the doctors could watch him "interact" with some of the vicious mutations they created. The purpose of the room was to see if any of the experiments could be trained or controlled, and see their new abilities in action. The machines in the room were weapons and mechanical training simulators, they would fire at Mikey and shoot darts and pellets and stuff at him to see his agility and strength and problem-solving skills. Sometimes drones or robotic arms would be placed in the room as well. (This is why Mikey often inspects the machines in the lair to see if they are "evil".) All the other experiments he met were incredibly savage and prone to insanity, so Mikey was forced to fight them to stay alive. Basically it was an evil scientist's version of a gladiator arena.

Mikey's bros would have probably gone in the very night he was captured, but knew that they needed a plan. Donnie spent the week researching, Leo spent it making strategies and contingency plans, Raph spent it stress-training and crying, April and Cass and CJ spent it scouting the place out.

@boots-with-the-fur-club

[positivelybeastly]

Have you ever wondered if Hank would be better of without the X-Men?

So, this is an interesting question, and I hope that this answer is similarly interesting - mostly because it starts, like most interesting answers, with, it depends!

I think that when Hank was just first starting out as an X-Man, as a member of the Original Five X-Men, it was a genuinely good environment for him.

Yeah, he was a seventeen year old involved in superheroics far beyond his logical grasp, but it was very much to his benefit that he was with people who understood what it was like to be ostracised for powers and gifts that you were granted by birth, that you struggled to control, that you had to hide to get by.

He wasn't really, truly fulfilled as a normal high school/college student - he kept having to hide just how brilliant he was, both physically and mentally, for fear of sticking his head up above the parapet and being kicked back down. For all his flaws as a mentor, Professor Xavier was an intellectual equal (at first, anyway) for Hank, someone who could meet him on that level and engage with and nurture him.

And it really can't be understated just how good it was for Hank to make friends his own age, because he really just did not have that many of them beforehand. I can name one, Jennifer Nyles. That's it.

So Bobby was obviously an amazing anchor for him, and Scott and Warren ended up being good, stable friends who, at least at that juncture, were good influences on him, keeping him focused - I also think that Warren, especially, would have been a very stabilising presence for Hank, as the only other physically mutated mutant he had seen up until that point (not counting Bobby, who can turn his Iceman form on or off).

Once he'd gotten over his thankfully brief period mooning over Jean (fuck off, Bendis), they ended up becoming extremely good friends, too - their shared emotional sensitivity and capacity for compassion and love made them really good friends, which is something you see come back quite a bit in the 90s and in New X-Men.

It's also telling that it's when he leaves the X-Men here, he ends up fucking up his life fairly quickly, falling into bed with a Secret Empire spy and turning himself furry in a fit of intellectual hubris - he needed them to occasionally drag him out of the lab and remind him, hey, Hank, the rest of the world still exists! If he'd had Bobby, Warren or Jean present to keep his head screwed on, he genuinely might not have done such a dumb thing to himself - or if he had, he would have been with people who could've helped.

Where it gets a lot muddier is when it comes to X-Factor in the 80s and then just the X-Men from the 90s all the way up to, well, now. The problem is that Hank is . . . Hank is really useful. He's often the heart of the team, so he's the guy that a lot of people come to for advice about their problems, or, at the very least, someone who feels the need to care for people who are having problems (you see this a lot in New X-Men, where he's constantly taking it upon himself to be there for people).

But he's also the big guy AND the smart guy - he's, like, three parts of the Five Man band group archetype all in one, which is honestly why you see him almost constantly on the flagship X-Men teams, like X-Men Blue in the 90s, the New X-Men in the early 00s, the Astonishing team in the mid 00s, etc, he's just useful on a team.

But the problem is that Hank has a really hard time looking at a problem and saying, no, I can't solve it, or, no, I don't have the time to do that, or, no, that's not something to do with me. He's just not wired that way. He's inclined to help. He's inclined to try. He's inclined to study and poke and prod and heal and learn. He's been like that since he was a child, when he was dismantling bus engines on the school lawn - this happens because that, that happens because this, because because because - he wants to know. He wants to solve.

So, what happens when you give him problems he can't solve?

He tried so damn hard to fix the Legacy Virus. He tried so damn hard to fix the Decimation. He threw himself into the problems, he pushed himself to his limits, he did things he knew he shouldn't be doing, he put himself in danger, he put others in danger, he didn't think clearly - because I need to solve the problem. I need to help. I need to fix this. Because if I can't, no-one can.

And the problem is, on the X-Men, that's generally true!

There is no-one on the X-Men who can do what Hank can do! The instant the news came in about the Decimation and just how real and far reaching it was, who did everyone look to? They didn't look at Cyclops or Emma Frost or Wolverine for solutions, they looked at Hank, and he thought, well, if I can't do it, who can?

Genuinely, back in 2005, who stood a chance of fixing the Decimation? Look at the X-Men rosters. Look at the list of the 198. Who the fuck can solve this? Maybe Mr. Sinister? MAYBE? And that's if you trust him to?

And that pressure is just so ugly and unpleasant and crushing for Hank, because Hank is a social butterfly. He loves to talk to people, he loves to make people laugh, he loves to get vocal, repeated affirmation that he's good, that he's a genius, that he's loved, that he's cared for, because he's so frightfully insecure and anxious and dysphoric. And the instant that you shut him in a lab or send him out on a mission by himself, it's like you're setting a pressure cooker on the highest setting to see how long it takes before it bursts. He needs a social life.

Even when the X-Men spurned him after the failed intervention (which, fuck, that could be its own post), they STILL had to go back to him! Ororo Munroe, goddess of the elements, mistress Storm, the leader of the X-Men, told Hank that she was contemplating giving him to S.H.I.E.L.D for crimes against time and space and nature in Uncanny X-Men #600. And yet, the instant the M-Pox happens, who does she turn to?

She turns to Hank. Poor, dependable, unable to say no, Hank.

You see it even again in Rosenberg's Astonishing X-Men. Havok doesn't know who to talk to about his weird dreams and tech problems, so who does he go to? Does he talk to anyone at the Xavier Institute? Does he talk to an Avenger?

No, he goes to Hank. Who's living a completely normal, happy, academic life at Harvard. He's trying to heal Banshee from the Apocalypse infection. He likes to eat Portobello Patty Melts.

Within five minutes, Reavers turn up and start shooting up the place, and Hank loses his job.

Because Havok, like every other X-Man, has a learned pattern of behaviour - if you have a problem, go see Hank. He'll fix it.

Suffice it to say, this is not a good thing for Hank. No wonder he fucking cracked. No wonder he just started losing it. No wonder the version of him we see in Battle of the Atom has lost his wits. He has to be the doctor, scientist, biologist, mechanic, engineer, armchair psychologist, pathologist, linguist, chemist, physicist, pilot, athlete, genius, to basically an entire community of people.

By this point? Yes, Hank would absolutely be better off without the X-Men. Hell, I feel like he was better off without them from 2009 onwards, where you can see an appreciable difference in how happy he is to be working at S.W.O.R.D versus how he is at the Jean Grey School or on any of the X-Men teams he joins after that point.

This also highlights why he's so different on the Avengers and Defenders, why he's so much happier and goofier and light-hearted - it's not just because his boyfriend Simon Williams is around (though that certainly helps), it's because they usually have, like, four geniuses on a team at any one time, and it lightens the load. He doesn't have to be every genius under the sun, he can afford to just be the big strong guy and take it easy a bit. The positive reputation and public affirmation that comes from being an Avenger versus an X-Man certainly doesn't hurt, either.

There's also a weird, distorting effect that Hank's years away from the X-Men has caused - he was one of the original X-Men, so he has tenure and prestige, and he's generally one of the oldest around, so he knows what he's doing, but he also missed out on a very long period of time for the team (1974-1991) where a lot of very strong friendships, like Kurt-Logan-Piotr, Jean-Ororo, etc, formed, so he doesn't have that bond with them.

There's a distance.

Everyone knows Hank, but not everyone knows Hank. There is such a clear, defined difference between how someone like Scott or Jean talks to Hank, versus how someone like Kitty or Ororo does. I really don't think it's a coincidence that if you look at who's around when Hank is dying in All-New X-Men, it's mostly people who know him but don't really know him - it's Logan, it's Ororo, it's Kitty - so when he says he's fine, even as his heart is bursting in his chest, they believe him. They don't know how to tell if he's really fine or not. If that had been Jean, or Scott, or Warren, that would not have happened.

But what about Bobby, you cry!

What fucking about Bobby. The guy has the emotional sensitivity of a brick, and I'm firmly of the opinion that he and Hank stopped being truly close friends during the Utopia era, when Hank tried to emotionally confide in him about his PTSD and Bobby just told him to sit and spin on it. You compare how they are in Defenders and X-Factor or 90s X-Men with how they are during the JGS era, and it's night and day clear that they're not close anymore.

But that's yet another discussion, for another time.

TD;DR: the X-Men were a good place for Hank initially, but as time has gone on, and the mutant community's problems have become increasingly more dire, they've become a profoundly toxic environment for him. He doesn't have fun, he doesn't have many close friends there, and they treat him more and more like a utility as time goes on. When we get our resurrected Beast back in a few months, I hope he goes back to the Avengers and never returns.

[curlsofsagesmoke]

TMNT (2012) characters as dysfunctional family roles

here I go again analyzing a kids show that ended four years ago. anyway, I saw a tiktok by user doinbigthink where they gave a quick overview of the six kinds of dysfunctional family roles, and I immediately thought of tmnt bc it’s my current hyperfixation. so I spent almost an hour doing research and writing up this analysis, as one does.

as a preface: dysfunction in a family can be caused by anything from someone struggling with addiction to a parent being abusive or unavailable/neglectful to someone having narcissistic personality disorder (npd) etc. etc. Usually there is one person who is the root cause of this (very deep seated) dysfunction and the others in the family (often the kids) fall into these roles in order to cope.

Leo: The Hero

The Hero is often the oldest child. They cope with the dysfunction in the family by being high achievers or perfectionists, and they need a sense of control in order to feel safe within the family. They are seen as very well-adjusted, balanced, and high-functional and are often used as an example of how well the family as a whole is doing. They may allow this misconception to continue (whether consciously or unconsciously) in order to hide the family’s problems. They may be parentified as children (that is, forced to take on a parental role for their younger siblings) and usually feel a lot of pressure to solve the family’s issues. With Leo in particular, you see these two behaviors in the way he approaches leading his brothers as well as the way he obsessed over bringing Karai into the family for Splinter’s sake after discovering her true identity. As an adult, the Hero is often drawn toward romantic partners who are emotionally unavailable (again, see Leo’s crush on Karai) and tend to throw themselves into their work (Leo’s obsession with ninjutsu)

Leo: The Golden Child

The Golden Child is not a dysfunctional family role but instead describes a relationship that develops between a parent/guardian with npd and one of the children in the family. In these cases, the parent tends to favor the Golden Child because the Golden Child exhibits all the traits the parent loves in themselves. In Splinter and Leo’s case, these characteristics are their devotion to ninjutsu, their general temperaments, and their more spiritual/mystic natures. There are MANY examples of this favoritism in TMNT canon; for example, Splinter teaching Leo his reiki technique (the healing hands) in “the deadly venom” because everyone things Leo is the most capable of learning such an advanced technique (in the episode, Donnie says that he doesn’t think anyone else on the team could’ve done what Leo did, i.e. using the healing hands on himself and saving the others from karai). The parent has a volatile relationship with the Golden Child and often their love is conditional (that is, the parent will favor the Golden Child as long as the Golden Child continues to act like the parent). Because of this, the Golden Child often has trouble establishing an independent identity (see: Raph calling Leo “Splinter Jr.”, though I can’t remember if this happens in 2012 or just in the 2003 version). The Golden Child may also participate in the narcissistic parent’s abuse against the other children in order to protect themself (this is less explicit in canon, but I think that Leo’s leadership style fits this bill)

Raph: The Scapegoat

The Scapegoat is often the second child. As the name suggests, they are often blamed for things that go wrong in the family regardless of whether it was actually their fault or not. Scapegoats are often very aware of their position in the family and as a result they may feel rejected, isolated, and unlovable. I think a good example of Raph feeling like this is the fact that, early in the show, he only openly expresses his emotions to Spike. Scapegoats learn that negative attention is better than no attention (especially from a parent/guardian) and they often engage in high risk behaviors such as sex, drugs, etc. (in Raph’s case, his reckless fighting style and the way he seeks out fights, and this also explains his temper and overall angry demeanor). Because of this, they tend to get into a lot of trouble and are often singled out as the child who needs individual help (aka therapy) even though the root problems lie with the family as a unit. In cases where the parent has npd the Scapegoat is often pitted against the Golden Child. This is called splitting and it is another way to distract from the family’s deeper issues. I feel like I don’t need to explain the way that Leo and Raph are pitted against each other.

Donnie: The Lost Child

The Lost Child, as the name implies, often fades into the background. Usually this is on purpose in an effort to keep themself safe, as they might be scared to draw attention to themself or rock the boat, especially in an abusive household. They may often feel ignored or neglected and are often described as loners who have difficulty developing social skills or self-esteem. Like the Hero, the Lost Child is often used as an example of the family’s stability and success because they aren’t causing trouble. They tend to struggle when forming friendships/romantic relationships, and they are usually praised for not needing a lot of attention/being independent. Because of this, they feel safer when they’re by themselves. Although Donnie does cause trouble sometimes (see: all the times he’s blown some shit up in the lab, the Mutagen man thing, etc.), he’s not seen as the troublemaker. Raph (and Mikey, to a certain extent) definitely takes that title. Donnie is often alone in his lab---working, admittedly, but he still tends to isolate himself, and he is often seen as the most socially awkward of the brothers (see: his relationship with April). There’s also this very interesting exchange from the episode “Enemy of My Enemy” when they’re in the Shellraiser and Leo is about to take the stealth bike to help Karai:

Raph: Hey, the stealth bike’s my thing. Leo: Now your thing is sucking it up. Donnie: Hey! That’s my thing!

Mikey: The Mascot

The Mascot is often the youngest child. They use humor and goofiness to diffuse tension and distract the family from their issues, though when this works, they feel increased pressure to continue to step in when things become tense or volatile. The Mascot acts from a place of anxiety and trauma, and they may have bouts of depression. They also tend to feel as though they cannot express their negative emotions (because they often see themselves as responsible for their family’s happiness). They tend to bend over backwards for people with little regard for their own safety/comfort, and they are drawn to intense and dysfunctional relationships (whether romantic or platonic) where they will be called upon to diffuse tension. This can be seen in the way Mikey approached his friendships with both Bradford (pre-mutation) and Leatherhead. Mikey is also very rarely shown as being sad, angry, or depressed the way that the other three are, and it’s only in times of extreme emotional distress (like the season two finale) where he drops his humor. Even in the midst of tough battles or tough situations, Mikey tends to insert himself into the middle of the tension and is almost constantly cracking jokes or trying to keep things lighthearted. When he does show more negative emotions, it’s in (mostly) one of two ways. One, giving comfort or seeking comfort, usually from Raph (again see the season two finale, where he hugs Raph to calm him down after Splinter “dies” and seeks comfort from Raph in the Party Wagon as they’re driving away from the city). Two, acting combative with Donnie.

Note: Mikey and Donnie acting combative

This second one in particular is really interesting to me because both Donnie and Mikey exhibit a level of comfort/feeling safe with each other that they don’t display with the other two. Mikey only ever gets physical with Donnie (their little slap fight in “Turtle Temper” or attacking him at the end of “The Creeping Doom”), while Donnie only ever purposefully antagonizes Mikey to get a reaction (slapping him in “Turtle Temper”, which prompts the slap fight, or teasingly insulting him at the end of “The Creeping Doom”, which prompts Mikey to attack him). Mikey likes to get under Raph’s skin, but he never retaliates when Raph gets physical with him. Donnie does occasionally argue with Raph and Leo, but usually backs down after Raph threatens him with violence (see “New Girl in Town”), and with Leo it never escalates past a verbal fight (see the season two finale, “the fourfold trap”). Actually, it seems that in Mikey’s and Donnie’s relationship, they take on the roles that you usually see in Raph’s and Mikey’s relationship. Mikey antagonizes Raph and Raph retaliates; similarly, Donnie antagonizes Mikey and Mikey retaliates, but neither of them would act this way toward their other two brothers.

Splinter: The Root of the Dysfunction

I’ve made a lot of allusions by now to Splinter having npd, or at least some narcissistic tendencies. There are many times where he shows favoritism toward Leo or acts in a very stubborn or even self-absorbed manner. In the season one finale, for example, he refuses to help the turtles fight and only leaves the lair after april is kidnapped by the shredder. In “the pulverizer returns”, he makes the turtles switch weapons (for literally no good reason), they almost die in a fight and switch back, and as punishment, he takes their weapons away entirely; this isn’t addressed in the episode, but i do believe that if they’d had their weapons, they could’ve prevented timothy from being mutated in this episode. (Admittedly there are times when he apologizes, admits he’s wrong, and changes his mind, which is why I hesitate to say he exhibits fully narcissistic behaviors). There’s also the physical aspect of their relationship. He’s teaching the turtles ninjutsu, so you can expect a very physical relationship in the form of training, but there are times when he causes the turtles pain for the sake of pain as punishment (e.g. randori, which we see a few times, or when he goes for their pressure points, or when he trips mikey in the episode “monkey brains”, or when he stabs raph with his cane in the episode “turtle temper”, and these are just the examples i can think of off the top of my head). There has been discourse in the fandom about whether these characters (splinter and raph in particular) are abusive, and i don’t want to get into that. However, i think it’s undeniable that splinter raised his kids with the intent to turn them into child soldiers, and also i fully believe that this (plus his parenting style) is the root of the dysfunction in the hamato family.

[bookwyrminspiration]

how would you change sophie's canon abilities?

okay okay okay I love this question!! I won't focus on the inflicting in this answer because I already talking about it in this post (which I'm assuming is what prompted you to ask), which leaves her telepathy, polyglot abilities, enhancing, and teleporting. I've talked about some possibilities for things she could do with her telepathy in this post. it's not exactly how i would change her abilities, but it is relevant!

because we don't see them as much, I'm going to focus on her other three abilities for this one, but if you'd like to talk about the others just send another ask!!!

(this is like three posts in one so it got long)

Enhancing:

Okay, so Sophie can give other people energy to increase their power and efficiency/capabilities with their own abilities. She's a boost. that's nice, but I think it's incredibly underutilized and just a convenient solution to a few other problems at times, not really like an ability in the way she uses it. Oh, she gives Dex a boost and then he can technopath a solution to something they've been dealing with for a while. Oh, she can boost Biana and that helps them decide how to get into Nightfall and whose going. To me it feels...underwhelming. If we're giving her five abilities they better be worth it, you know?

So I'd change it's use, make Sophie learn what every person in her friend group can do when they're given a boost from her, and then structure their fights and plans around that instead of using it as a Plan B when everything goes wrong. When enhancing Tam he was able to discover he could travel through shadows (in Lodestar). When enhancing Grady he was able to control an animal, a very angry mutated one at that. When enhancing Biana three people could be undercover at once. When enhancing Linh she held back the ocean. Those are big advantages that have only been used when they were discovered!!

I don't think the ability itself is bad, but I think it has untapped potential that's going to waste. We know the measure of power Linh can use while being enhanced, and we know it can be replicated. So the next step in their training could be everyone figuring out what they can do when being enhanced, and learning to control it. Right now it just...happens. But with practice it could become much more valuable of an asset and something to rely on instead of a Plan B when other things go wrong.

As an addition, I want it to have more of an impact on Sophie. We know that it drains her, that she's giving other people energy. But I think it could be more impactful. I want her to have trouble concentrating after she's drained, i want her other abilities to be impacted. She gave all her energy enhancing someone else? Well now she doesn't have enough left to inflict, to transmit to someone. that is a reason I could understand for her using her enhancing at the rate she has been so far, if it had a serious draw back that prevented her from being able to do other things. Right now I think she should be using it more than just when they have a problem they can't solve with something else

I think it'd be interesting as well if she was able to overload someone with energy, give them too much and send them out of control. She gives all her energy to Lady Gisela and her polyglotism starts malfunctioning, her thoughts in incomprehensible languages and grammars and makes it impossible for her to think. Or overloading Fintan and his flames spiral out of control. Something like that, I think you get the point.

Polyglotism:

Okay one of my biggest questions when it comes to her being a polyglot is what counts as a language. We know that spoken languages work, and that she can understand any language she hears. But sign languages are languages, so can she understand them even though they aren't auditory? Can she understand methods of communication that aren't languages like morse code? What are the limits of her ability?

This is another one that's use is more passive. She can talk to anyone, but what does that mean? It's a simple enough ability that changing it doesn't really have any appeal (to me) but instead what she can do with it. Sophie Foster has no language barriers except when it comes to the elven language--which is another thing that annoys me that she just accepts that. Like, even if it isn't instinctual she is still capable of learning another language. But I digress.

So I propose that she uses her polyglotism to become well versed in the parts of history that are inaccessible to the rest of us. Reading studies and texts in the native language to truly grasp it exactly as the author intended--for example, reading ogre reports in ogrish on different amoebas and bacterias. Or reading on dwarvish accounts of materials. She can acquaint herself with all the intelligent species cultures through her ability to connect with their language (language is a pretty big part of a lot of cultures!!), and from there using her notoriety, I think she could get some pretty powerful allies in various species. If she knows her shit, can talk to them appropriately, she could become dangerous for her political influence in more than just the elven world.

Knowledge is power, and she has a tremendous advantage when it comes to acquiring knowledge. i want her to use it.

Teleporting:

Okay so if you've read the wings au, you know that I've kinda altered Sophie's teleporting in it, so I'll use some of those ideas in this post. In the wings au Sophie does something that I named glitching, and it's essentially small, instantaneous leaps, teleporting place to place without the build up, but not as far.

With Legacy, we've introduced a change in Sophie's teleporting where it doesn't require as dramatic an event (falling off a cliff) to do it. And I want to lean into that idea of more accessible teleporting. Not necessarily what I did in the wings au with instantaneous movement, but that it happens quicker, both physically and emotionally. With jumping off a cliff there was a lot of mental preparation to jump, the whole build up in her mind.

I think it'd be interesting if she had a source of energy to draw from similar to her inflicting, something she can access whenever she needs to because it's instinct and not something that appears when she starts to teleport. Maybe psyching herself up and preparing can give her a larger reserve, but I think there should be something kind of stored for easy access. That easy access energy could be used for short distances, for manuvering around a battlefield, for getting away from people, for moving other people.

Maybe the Neverseen ambushes the crew and has the advantage of planning and a formation. Sophie could use that reserve of energy and teleport forward and move someone, break a hole in their front. Maybe she can't teleport through the ground, but in a cave she can teleport around within it.

Essentially for her teleporting I want her to think more creatively with it and to use it more often in less dramatic ways. Teleporting doesn't need to be this huge ordeal where she psyches herself up to go a huge distance, and the small things she can do could make a big difference. Shannon's started to go closer to this by making it so she doesn't need to jump off a cliff, so I'm curious to see what's next for her teleporting abilities!!

[tartrazeen]

Left 4 Dead 1+2: Tartra's Everyone-Is-Magic-Because-Zombies Headcanon

uwu

I've got a few chunks of my personal headcanons that I wanna share. They're all about my "everyone who's still alive has superpowers now" HC, and it breaks non-zombie humanity down into one of three groups:

- Pre-Infected: the people who haven't been exposed to the Green Flu yet

- Common Infected: people who are infected with a non-Special strain of the Green Flu

- Special Infected: people who are infected with one of the eight major mutations in the Green Flu

Pre-Infected folks are the single most dangerous group left in the world. They're a complete unknown, because they could - at any moment - suddenly be exposed and turn into a rampaging Tank or be completely asymptomatic. No one knows and no one wants to take that chance, so any survivor communities are built with the very clear understanding that they can't take any Pre-Infected in. It's a problem that's slowly solving itself anyway, 'cause the number of these guys is dropping hard and fast.

Common Infected are your typical normies. They are completely asymptomatic, or else so mildly mutated that it's basically a weird physical abnormality that could've totally existed before the Green Flu. In a world where Pre-Infected are disappearing, 'Carriers' and 'Immune' no longer hold any weight. You're not a zombie, so that's all that matters. This is obviously the bulk of every survivor; to borrow the game mechanics, the distribution of common infected to special infected is exactly what you'd see in a Normal campaign.

Commons don't really get any extra abilities, just like how the Uncommon construction workers simply happened to be wearing ear muffs. The most mutated aren't mutated enough to get a physical boost from it (sorry, Mudmen), so being one of these means you've got a pretty normal life ahead in the post-zombie apocalypse world. Technically they're all a bit stronger and more physically resistant than Pre-Infected, but since they all have that, there's no advantage if you compared them against each other.

And now we get into the Special Infected. :3

HOW THEY WORK

I made these up to borrow from the game mechanics, but also to keep things from getting way too overpowered. Part of my endless self-indulgence is keeping it from being too self-indulgent- except in the case of one, which I'll get to in a bit uwu

So each Special Infected gets the same abilities, with each person having a stronger or weaker variations based on just... well, people being different. But they also get drawbacks to keep them from being only "zombies but fully sentient and still hot" (by which I mean, up until they hit those drawbacks, they're literally just normal people with magical zombie powers uwu)

On average in this HC world, most survivors only survived because of one of two reasons:

1. They had a very large group of Common Infected survivors (like 40 or so) and simply powered through, losing numbers as they went, until they wound up somewhere safe

2. They had the right kind of Special Infected to help them survive

Because not all Special Infected are equally useful, and the very useful ones come with a hefty cost.

And that's my nod to the game: with only having four survivors on a team, the fact that we got to the end with seven out of eight still alive? That's the extremely lucky result of ALL our characters being Special Infected. When I have them finally show up to a community, they're hit with the standard bonding question of, "How many did you lose?" And hearing "one" or "oh, nobody" is absolutely mind-boggling, because not only is it lucky, but a lot of these Special Infected can be lethal combinations.

There are also a few that come with personality 'adjustments', so as the Special Infected started figuring their abilities out, they also realized there was a bit of a 'type' to go along with them. It's not "everyone who does X is immediately Y," but more "You're a Witch? Yeah, you seem like it."

A lot of that has to do with what makes that mutation kicks in. There's a certain physiological combination that has to happen that makes the Green Flu mutate in a person (which is different from there being different variations of the Green Flu); you've gotta have the right chemicals in your brain or body to trigger everything. You don't just get the "Smoker Strain" and automatically get spat out as a Smoker. You get the Green Flu outright, and then depending on whether you've got the right stuff, you'll end up as a Smoker as the Green Flu runs around your system. It happens at the same time as that "is this person gonna be a feral zombie or asymptomatic" point.

That's how I explain any zombies looking different between the first game and the second (whatever's in your body is based on regional differences) and how I handwave any further mutations (everyone's hot and isn't going to suddenly shapeshift into something different or grow claws or transform in any way). And that's how I explain why our survivors still look like themselves despite all this.

THE SURVIVORS

Don't @ me over which survivor gets what Special Infected. This is *my* self-indulgent HC and it's my birthday. 😤

Anyway, here it is!

- Coach = Charger

- Rochelle = Hunter

- Nick = Witch

- Ellis = Jockey

- Louis = Smoker

- Francis = Boomer

- Zoey = Spitter

- Bill = I don't like Bill. He's dead. 😤

WHAT THEY CAN DO

I'm not gonna go in the same order, sorry 😅

I'm going in order of benefit/liability to a team. In my HC, it's been at least four straight months (at the earliest) before our survivors find a community. I also make them link back up with each other, but I've got different HCs around the when and how. Usually it's at the three-month mark, so they get a whole month to be a team but there's still a thin line of "immediate family" and "our group": L4D1 guys stick to each other like the L4D2 do. Even though they intermingle and everything, it's like, "I was with these guys first. If we ever go our separate ways, I'm going with them" and "Hmm. We need to think about this. Okay, everyone go to your family meeting and we'll talk in ten."

So since then, the other survivors in thene communities have had hundreds of people with nothing to do but fight zombies and make observations. While doing that, they came up with a general consensus on how 'good' each Special Infected was, and also what 'symptoms' or behaviours each Special Infected tend to exhibit if you had to make an educated guess about someone.

In my head, someone actually put those notes together and made like a field manual that they hand out to folks and dump off in different cities. It's meant to teach other roaming survivors how to use their abilities (if they have any) well enough to survive and reach one of these communities.

All the rankings are out of 10, with a 1 being "Average Common Infected". :3

BOOMER

Benefit - 2

Liability - 1

The physically least resilient and the least superhumanly powered. Damn near a Common Infected themselves, really, and in no way mutated enough to projectile vomit bile - or even make the kind of bile that'd attract zombies.

What Boomers can do - which is very much appreciated, all early-apocalypse-things considered - is not smell bad.

That doesn't mean they don't stink. It means that even when you can smell their BO, they just weirdly don't smell bad. It's like something that you know is gross, but in such an interesting way that you kinda can't stop sniffing it. Very weird, the embodiment of both "shit doesn't stink" and "everyone likes their own brand," but not super useful unless you don't have access to deodorant.

'Cause of this, Boomers tend to be notably more chummy and sociable.

At the time of their infection, Boomers were - to some degree - drunk.

SMOKER

Benefit - 2

Liability - 2

Also pretty basic. They don't have extra tongues, they can't shoot one of their head, so the only thing they have going for them is that they can cough up some smoke.

Some Smokers can't turn that off, so it's like a constant 24/7 vape cloud, which is a problem in the same way as blowing cigarette smoke into the face of someone that doesn't smoke. It might not be a super thick cloud - maybe just a haze - but it'll linger.

Some luckier Smokers have to actively choose and try to get a smoke cloud going. These ones are better, because then at least you can hang out around them without coughing. But none of them (so far) have been able to produce a cloud as heavy as the actual zombie, so even that isn't good enough to use as a smokescreen unless it's already kind of cloudy around them. They're truly only useful at irritating other people's throats and lungs.

Which makes them very, very, very useful when it comes to dealing with an uncooperative Witch, and very, very, very dangerous around any kind of Tank. :3

'Cause of this, Smokers tend to be a little more apologetic and alert.

At the time of their infection, Smokers were - in some way - gassy.

SPITTER

Benefit - 3

Liability - 2

The last of the less-useful ones (I swear, I didn't put them all on the L4D1 side on purpose), Spitters - again - can't do nearly as much as the zombie can. They aren't drooling acid, but if they did spit on a napkin, there'd be a hole burned in after maybe two minutes of leaving it there. It makes making out with them kind of interesting. Mostly they're a liability to themselves, because there's also a weirdly sour taste in their mouths, their eyes sting from always feeling dry, and the polite ones usually have holes in the elbows of their sleeves from sneezing or coughing into them.

They don't seem to respond to their own acid, on the bright side, so their teeth seem to be doing okay, and they don't get any indigestion, food poisoning, or poisoning at all. Their stomachs seem to be triple-lined from the max of their physical mutation, so even if it'd take ten of them spitting on a lock to burn a door open, they can get through any kind of foodstuff like it was candy. Will rotten food still taste gross? Yes. But if rations are low and everybody's starving, you can can always dump the worst stuff onto the Spitter, who won't get sick and wouldn't like how the good food tastes sour to them anyway.

'Cause of this, Spitters tend to be a little more resentful and bitter.

At the time of their infection, Spitters were - in some way - nauseous.

HUNTER

Benefit - 5

Liability - 1

Aaaand here we go. :)

Survivors with the Hunter strain are one of the 'core' Special Infected to have on a team. They're almost always pure reward, no risk, and clear-headed (compared to the effects that other Special Infected strains have on people). They're also one of the first to have had a clear 'type' of person to turn into one. Instead of their abilites leading them to change their behaviour (like a Smoker starts to be on guard to apologize for making everyone cough), a Hunter was already 'like' that.

Although they aren't mutated enough to ever get those sweet jumps, the Hunters take right from the game mechanics: they can see, they can track, and they can identify.

If they're around a person long enough to know how that person sounds, walks, moves, and wanders, they'll be able to see what's effectively an 'aura' (read: outline) around that person regardless of where they are. The better Hunters will see a perfectly defined silhouette that'll even change in intensity or colour depending on how stressed or injured their friend is, while the weaker ones might only see a vague light patch, but they can all see these regardless of weather, light, or physical obstructions (e.g. they can see you poppin' a squat even through a brick wall). The theory's that it's a mutation in their ears *and* their eyes, and possibly even their nose and other various senses.

The same goes for zombies. If they know enough about a type of Special Infected, the stronger Hunters can see right through a wall to warn others that it's there in advance. It makes them excellent for navigating safely around a zombie-infested city or for actively tracking something down to get rid of it. They're the most likely to survive on their own and often credited as the reason many groups can make it to a safe community. Field teams in the later months consider Hunters so necessary, they're simply assumed to be a standard part of every single one.

The main liability of a Hunter is - again - mostly for themselves: they can't exactly cover their eyes and stop seeing what it is their Hunter sense is picking up on. That makes waking up at night pretty damn awkward when it's to see what two of your inappropriately-happy-blue-outlined teammates are doing in the other room. The liability for the team is that - uh... well.

Hunters are pretty much the gossips of the Special list. 🤷🏽‍♀️ Wonderfully ironic for the quietest zombie, but very reasonable for a person who is constantly seeing everybody's business.

'Cause of this, Hunters tend to *be* in everybody's business.

At the time of their infection, Hunters were focused on a single task by willfully suppressing their suite of adrenaline-fuelled flight/fight/freeze/appease responses (read: distractions).

CHARGER

Benefit - 6

Liability - 5

Chargers have a different sort of benefit/liability rating. Where the others mean "This is how much they'll help " versus "This is the damage they'll cause in return," the benefit of a Charger is that they *will* bring the pain. The liability is "okay, and when does that inconveniently run out?"

On the plus side, Chargers physically mutated to have some kind of armour. Their muscles have become dense enough that things can't pierce or crush them like the others, and their skin has thickened to stop many of the cuts they'd normally get. Even better, the Charger's superstrength is second only to the Tank, and at a fraction of the price (i.e. having to deal with a Tank).

Sometimes.

That density and 'thick skin' only comes from actively flexing and holding it. Since Chargers haven't mutated as much as the zombie to have a permanent flex (to the point that all the blood rushes into one arm and beefs it up to the size of a cow), they have to build it up and keep up that effort for as long as they tap into that ability. The process of flexing takes energy and releasing it - like you were holding your breath - means having to do it all over again if they release it.

This would be great if there were only a handful of zombies to get through. Unfortunately, there's a planet of them now, and Chargers often run out of superhuman steam at inopportune times.

'Cause of this, Chargers tend to be a little strict about sticking to a plan.

At the time of their infection, Chargers were straining to physically exert themselves - and suddenly getting a second wind.

JOCKEY

Benefit - 7

Liability - 6 to 8

<3

Jockeys have one exceptional advantage over the other Special Infected: they have the most rounded, most complete package of abilities, and it is *always* in effect.

They aren't as strong as zombie Chargers - but unlike human Chargers, they always have that strength. Maybe they can't flip over a car like a Charger could (or throw it like a Tank), but they can lift up the front and keep it held for nearly a minute.

They can't jump as high as zombie Hunters - but unlike human Hunters, they can jump at all. The average height of a running jump is almost a full storey (yeah, a little under 14 feet), but the more practiced ones jump from wall to wall like they've seen zombie Hunters do. Even better, all Jockeys can land safely from a three-storey freefall. The better ones can land from four storeys. Five storeys is where injuries start to happen. That does *not* mean Jockeys won't do it.

They might not be so mutated as to have that infamous Jockey hump (or lipless grin), but they have fantastically solid hands and grip strength to rockclimb over any dilapidated building. In terms of getting around, that makes Jockeys unparalleled superhuman parkour wizards, who can scale a building, drop a rock to crush some threat, grab an injured friend for a piggyback ride, and then zip back out and over to a safe escape. They're an excellent combination to have with a Hunter, who can spot for them and talk out a route.

The drawbacks?

🙃

The drawbacks.

From here on out, the remaining zombies have what's called a 'feral state'. Technically every survivor has one, but many of the others' are hard to trigger or even stumble into. Jockeys have one, and it has to do with their strain's psychological effect.

Jockeys have an fairly uncontrollable attachment to one or two targets. With conscious permission, a Jockey can part with those targets for a few days. Beyond that, or taking those targets without that conscious permission, starts a quickly deteriorating state of paranoia, delirium, and exhaustion. This goes on until whatever's been lost comes back into their possession, or if it's finally been long enough that they can have their attachment redirected to something new. That can take days or weeks and is universally understood as a debilitating, miserable time - but also not much better than the frenzied, screaming, Jockey-hyena-laugh euphoria that comes whenever they get their 'stolen stuff' back, which can just as easily lead to destroying that very thing out of blind excitement.

The fortunate news about a Jockey accidentally destroying their own stuff is how it brings an immediate sense of feral closure; essentially, the Jockey resets and can pick a new target to fixate on. This does not, unfortunately, work for others destroying that stuff instead. At worst, it'll count as stolen and kick off the 'loss' cycle immediately. At best, it'll be done with the Jockey's permission, and kick off the cycle a few days later. And that's not getting into the very real, very human reaction the Jockey'll have towards that loss once they snap out of it. Fixating on and losing an inanimate object is one thing, but when that object was sentimental or even a *person*...

That was the good news.

The bad news is the feral state is not their liability. 🙃

When I said "the full package is always in effect," I meant it. Jockeys have serious attention issues - in that they've got way, way too much of it for whatever it is they're fixated on.

In the middle of a zombie swarm and running for your life and your Jockey notices they dropped their lucky keychain? "Oops - be right back :)"

Threw a pipebomb between your Jockey, a Tank, and their favourite, shiny rock? "NOOOOO *kicks the pipebomb out of the room and into another teammate's face*"

Have a Jockey at a critical moment of action at the same time that they notice you're leaving with their BFF? "🤔now where are they off to - *smashed in the head by a Volvo*"

The hugging is cute. Adorable even. And then it keeps going. And then it gets clingy. And then it's an anchor to wherever the Jockey wants their favourite thing in the world to be. The worst of the Jockeys will go full Rapunzel with their objects and keep it locked up - which is why they have quite a reputation among survivors as being threats. The 'reasonable' and less infected Jockeys will at least negotiate a schedule about where their stuff is allowed to go (and who's allowed to go with it). The 'good ones' - and all the implications of that term - will allow a clear, "Fuck *off*" to register in their head as, "I would like to borrow this please and thank you," buying everyone some time apart. Some.

In terms of awkward combinations, Jockeys and Chargers are a mixed bag. So long as the Jockey stays happy, the Charger has a perfect teammate on their hands. The instant that changes, every plan that Charger's made goes out the window.

Tanks, fairly obviously, are a bad choice.

On paper, a Jockey and Witch seem like a great pair. In practice, the Witch'll either have some company that can entertain itself or the nightmare situation of having to entertain *it*.

But yeah, beyond that, Jockeys are pretty good.

'Cause of that, Jockeys tend to be pretty active in exploring their abilities.

At the time of their infection, they were - in some degree - in withdrawal.

WITCH

Benefit: 0 or 9 to 10

Liability: 9

✨uwu ✨

Okay - bear with me. I said 'self-indulgent,' right? Here it is.

Witches can singggggggggggg!

And by singing, they get all the widdle zombies to synchronize their heartbeats to the song's intensityyyyyyyy!

And depending on the intensity of the song itself and the intent/delivery of the song, the zombies can be controlled en masse in an area to obey a specific urge that's being communicateddddddddd!

What kind of effects, you ask?

- Completely ignoring the Witch like they're invisible!

- Standing perfectly frozen so survivors can walk right through them!

- Clearing an area!

- Gathering at an area!

- Amplifying the song so more zombies from farther away can also be affected!

- Going into a frenzied state and killing each other!

- Death!

In terms of cutesy little details, Witches can be heard humming to themselves, only to insist that they weren't making any noise at all! And they're right! What they're doing is unconsciously ✨translating✨the sound of the zombies around them into a melody that resonates with them because it reminds them of a song they have a deep emotional connection to, and not necessarily a positive one!

And through their physical mutation of having many, many, many vocal chords, they can use that, the sounds of the zombies around them, and the power of ✨Tartra's Self-Indulgent Fuck You I Think It's Awesome✨, they can effectively create the sound of a studio recording with full instruments that sounds suspiciously like something off of Tartra's Spotify playlist and that has a magical effect on all the zombies who are synchronized to it! Not the humans though, of course, because they have the presence of mind to not get completely hypnotized by it but instead intentionally breathe at on a different rhythm so they can detach themselves from the effect!

my playlists are never just playlists ✨uwu✨

This is elaborating wildly on the game's musical cues. Witches can't use it like a Hunter can to track something down, but the first notes are enough to resonate in a way they can associate with a Special Infected and blah blah blah that's where it's from

Anyway, these are the important parts.

First, not all Witches are equal. They aren't just singing a random song, but specifically one that means enough to them to have any sort of effect - and then on top of that, one that has the desired effect, and then one that fits the rhythm of the zombies they're trying to affect. Either they piggyback off of that and force the zombies to lean into it (e.g. if they're all walking around, it's not that much harder to make them waddle out of the way entirely), or - if they're strong enough, have the right intent, have the right song, give the right performance, and maintain the right concentration - they can just plop a new beat into the mix and make all the zombies fall in line to this new rhythm.

That's why 'singing a zombie to death' is the rarest of the rare abilities; you'd have to all of that line up and be strong enough to have that brand-new urge come out of nowhere, since the zombies aren't currently dead and you're trying to sell them on that.

i know one witch that can do it uwu

It's also an extremely difficult ability to discover. I don't know if you folks are aware of this but - uhhhhh... L4D zombies are attracted to sounds. So if someone's randomly singing and that effect isn't kicking in sometime during it to convince all the zombies to do something other than rip your face apart, your face is quite likely to, in fact, be ripped apart.

Then there's the deal with zombie Special Infected, who are immune from many things the Common aren't. Again, there's a certain level of infection/power/intent/performance/concentration that has to line up, or else you're singing a Spitter a very nice tune to murder you to.

And then, after you find a way to make so much noise in the first place and have managed to practice enough to know what kind of song and ✨feeling✨ it needs, you then need to deal with post-singing crash that swoops in, which is roughly two-thirds of the way to a feral state.

That's right! If everything goes exactly as planned, Witches put themselves in their feral state - just for fun! Surprise, you get to deal with a temporarily-real-quasi-zombie Witch until they snap out of their funk and come back to reality!

Now - that may seem like a lot of limitations, and almost more work than it's worth. Almost, though. It's still someone who can effectively control zombies, and even though there are layers and layers of ifs and buts (and I haven't even gotten to the liabilities yet), you could still put enough precautionary measures together to get through it. Obviously, this is a 9 or 10 on the ol' benefit scale. The - uh... the 0 seems a little harsh, because that means "even less useful than a human Common Infected," but Common Infected zombies can't sing a song so sweet that a Boomer says, "Wow, a lot of emotions here, I'm gonna leave and write in my diary now, goodbye."

🙃🙂🙃

Here's the thing.

Witches, much like Boomers, Smokers, and Spitters, tend find their infection leads to a change in their behaviour. Their feral state is not something they enjoy experiencing, and as a result, they're a little reluctant to jump into it. Drinking helps to dull the aftereffects of singing, but at the cost of their effect's strength. A group of Witches (i call it a choir ✨uwu✨) can sort of pass the effect onto each other in a sort of musical chairs/hot potato of not being the last one to sing, because the next one singing effectively gives them something to distract from all their ✨feelings✨. Even so, it's still a band-aid over the emotional cannonball to their gut, so they shy away from it.

Much like Jockeys, the infection itself has had psychological changes on them. Witches are in a constant state of being sad. Some days are better than others, some days it comes out as rage and on others, apathy; and some days they don't want to think about it and turn to their attention towards how *fucking* ridiculous it is to have *these* many sewers to get through.

Unique to Witches, that singing is a face-to-face confrontation of whatever they're usually trying not to think about, ripped raw and made the centre of attention for how long it lasts. The post-song crash might be over in like ten or fifteen minutes, but the effects it has on the person themselves is why a lot of these folks now drink if they didn't before.

Last, and worse, much like Hunters...

... a *lot* of Witches had a certain 'attitude' from even before they got infected.

I think - uh...

I think you can kinda guess what sort of attitude I'd be referring to.

So take all of that - all of it, the reluctance, the sadness, the feral state, and their propensity towards being a dick when they're unhappy - and give them a power that could not only change the tide of whatever fight they're in, but is actively sought after as the single-most absurdly magical ability you could ask for, and you get a definitive Benefit™ rating of...

... a fucking 0. 🙃

"Yeah, screw you, what do I get out of it? No, no - I know what *you* get out of it, but what do I get? Really? That's your best offer? Haha - okay, I'm gonna hum a little tune that makes me invisible. Good luck, come back if you're not dead when you have something actually I want."

What are you going to do, ask another Witch? They're all like that. They're assholes. And out of hundreds and hundreds of survivors in a community, there's only like a handful of Witches there at all. Assuming they managed to get a handle on their abilities without dying during the practice, there's still the actual drawback they have to go through.

Yeah - we still weren't at the liabilities yet. That was *still* talking about the benefits.

Their liability is how long they get between feral states (spoiler: not very).

Witches are driven by emotion. Slap a poker face on it all you want, but underneath, there's a pre- and post-infection focus on their feelings. Specifically, bad ones. Specifically, ones they don't really wanna deal with 'cause it's a lot. *They're* a lot, so that makes sense.

Leave a Witch alone for long enough, and they'll have nothing to distract themselves. Without a distraction, the infection - and actual human reaction they have on top of that - makes all those bad feelings come centre stage. Leave those feelings on centre stage long enough, and their eyes start getting an oddly bright shine to 'em, they start getting a little dizzy and need to sit, they start breathing heavy as the anxiety kicks in, and come closer and closer to realizing that they are truly alone with their thoughts.

This is - pun very intended - pretty *startling* for them.

So now you've got a frenzied Witch running around and screaming. The good news is that if you - uh, catch them early enough after this, you can almost instantly 'distract them back' to reality again. You're gonna have to deal with a now very embarrassed Witch that lost control, who will absolutely turn their embarrassment into your problem, but something as quick as making eye contact as soon as they sprint into the room can reset their "Oh, haha, I wasn't abandoned after all :)" timer. Let them run off and continue being alone, and the longer they're away, the harder and slower it is to pull them back - until eventually, you can't. It's been too long. The full infection finally caught up.

For you, the not-Witch, this is the easier method, and an extremely good (if not equally dick-ish) answer to "What do I get out of it?"

Note: your Witch won't be too thrilled with this.

The harder method, and the true source of that 9 for Liability, is to check in on the Witch and reset their timer for 'how long it's been since I was by myself'. How is that harder than having to hunt down a Witch that panicked and ran screaming into the night?

Simple: 🙃 now the Witch is literally still there.

The less friendly, higher attitude, emotionally compromised mess that a Witch will be as they get closer and closer to the end of their Countdown Until They Snap can make for a distinctly unpleasant experience, as you're basically walking in on them while they're starting to hyperventilate. They might only have gone from 0 to 40 so far, and at the moment their timer runs out, they'll go from 40 to 100 in less than a second, but a Witch at a 40 is still in a shitty, stressed-out mood.

What about interrupting earlier, you say, before your Witch gets that bad in the first place?

I'll hit ya with the plot twist in a bit, but in short, that means checking in on them even more frequently. Now instead of dealing with a human Witch on the verge of going feral, you're dealing with a human asshole who's pretty goddamn sick of you showing up all the time.

What about just quietly sitting in the room with them? Would that work?

Yes! It would! And fun fact, that's the best and easiest way to stop the timer from counting down at all!

You now have to deal with this Witch on a continuous basis. And not just a Witch, but a Witch who is becoming increasingly more aware of just how trapped they are. Especially if up to this point, they were only ever *coincidentally* trapped by having to squeeze inside a tiny safe room with three other people to survive, and had been putting up with it under the assumption that it was all temporary.

You've gotta hope that Witch isn't someone who insists they prefer running solo and who doesn't hate relying on other people, or else they might get a little testy from how they're under even more surveillance than they'd be if they were just in prison. 🙃

(i sure hope no one in the group's a jockey uwu)

So on top of the risk that the everyone might just get trapped and separated for too long, and the power dynamic from knowing all the group has to do is lock their Witch outside to kill it, we've also got the kind of person who would very much like a *little* breathing space and probably will seek it out all by themselves.

Liability is a 9. Benefit is a 9 or a 10 or a 0.

Last little suckerpunch uwu

That timer? It's proportionate to how long the Witch can be by themselves without succumbing to the bad thoughts. On the bright side, a shorter timer means stronger bad thoughts and therefore stronger songs. On the not so bright side, the longest timer so far is four hours *with* drinking, and I gave Nick 37 minutes before he can't take it anymore uwu.

'Cause of that, Witches tend to be divas over every little minor thing.

At the time of their infection, Witches were experiencing the shock of grief.

TANK

Benefit: 2 or 0

Liability: 10

I don't have anyone assigned as a Tank so this won't be as long.

Tanks are... big. As a human Tank, they're the most physically mutated every time. Think Dwanye Johnson, and then think, "D'aww, that's cute." Pile on three more feet, disportionately large arms, and even though it's not as bad as a zombie Tank, a stupid amount of strength and muscle and bone growth to be a 'slighly shorter and still normal-faced giant.

Y'all ever seen The Umbrella Academy? Luther but bigger. Between that and a zombie Tank if its posture hadn't gone to hell.

The benefit of having a super strong monster like that on your side is hey, cool, lift this car for me. Smash open that door. Nice! The drawback and outright liability is, "No, no, no! Not too much! Deep breaths, deep breaths!"

That's right - we're working on Hulk rules here. Strap on your FitBit and hook up an EKG, because if you thought the Witch's feral state was complicated, you're in luck! The Tank's is super simple:

Heart rate go up? :)

Feral.

That's it.

There is no distinction between 'happy heart rate' and 'in danger heart rate'. Heart rate go up? Feral.

That's. *It*.

Lift a car? Yay! Lift it and got too impressed with yourself or someone said 'boo'? Feral.

Zombie Witches make you nervous? Feral.

Sex too good? Feral.

Hot guy over there? Feral.

Too spicy? Feral.

Technically, yes, having super strength on your side in a calm environment is great. But when physical exertion on its own to make heart-rate-go-up?-feral, there's probably a Jockey you can ask to help instead. Btw keep that Jockey away from the Tank in case it riles the Tank up too much oops too late i guess it's feral, it seems like the anxiety of potentially being riled up was enough to rile the Tank up anyway.

The good news is that unlike a Witch, who'll snap, run off, and then never come back, the Tank can use their rampage out into the wilderness to calm down, recentre themselves, and then meekly return to their group.

Assuming they didn't get completely lost.

Assuming they weren't put down in the midst of their rampage.

Assuming they don't heart-rate-go-up? while they're out there and feral even farther away.

Assuming they're allowed back in.

The Tank is not a welcome addition to survivor communities. If anything, they're welcomed even less than Pre-Infected, who have the potential of at least maybe *not* being a Tank.

'Cause of that, Tanks are unfailingly polite and forgiving in every social situation, and the ones that are anywhere in public have an undeniably relaxed, pleasant, and a cool-as-a-cucumber demeanor.

At the time of their infection, Tanks had hit their 'fight' button.

THE END!

That's it! This took like six hours to write on my phone, but hopefully that lays out everything you'd ever need to know about how I headcanon human survivors with distinct benefits from the Green Flu. Indulgences aside, I think it's pretty cool. The Witch is way overpowered, but that's just 'cause I find it personally hilarious.

And when I'm back for part two, we're gonna dive into why I specifically gave survivor their assigned strain - and wtf was going on with Nick uwu

[crab-instruments]

Dust in the Wind Part 7 (tbb)

Master <Part 6 Part 8>

Pairing: Hunter x Secret Jedi! Reader (GN)

Rating and warning: General audience, feelings

Words: 1.1k

a/n: On this episode of the Baddy Bunch, we get real deep and talk about stuff. It's that one episode the writers snuck in to have something different. Nothing happens, so I wanted to post it now.

The ship was quiet on the way back to Ord Mantell, everyone but you and Tech sleeping in their bunks. Tech sat in the pilot seat, you in the seat next to him. You found yourself here a lot during the journeys you took with the Batch; the expanse of hyperspace gave you solace. Even though you weren’t in trouble, per say, you were left with a feeling of uneasiness after the day’s events. You sensed it course through your body, using your veins and nerves to keep you awake. It was loudest in your brain, your thoughts unrelenting. You felt as if you needed to do something but nothing you could do would actually comfort you, solve the problem you seemed to have. You had your knees to your chest and your chin resting on them, in a tight wad of anxious, humming energy.

It was a relaxed silence in the cockpit, at least, with neither you nor Tech feeling the need to say anything. He focused on the holopad in his hands intently. You almost asked a few times what held his attention so tightly, more just for conversation than in an interest in the subject. Tech’s info dumping was something you found endearing. Having such passion in different subjects, enough to be overfilled with knowledge and then wanting to share it with others, it was obvious to you Tech shared his excitement with those he kept close to show he loved them. You’d never say that to him, though, he either already knew that or he would figure it out one day.

Echo’s voice cut through your thoughts, “Tech, you can go to sleep now, and I’ll take watch.”

Without so much of a movement, Tech replied to his brother. “I will in a few, I want to check all the files in this database first. You can go back to sleep, and I’ll wake you up when I’m done.”

Echo chuckled. “Yeah, sure, so you can fall asleep right there and I get in trouble for not taking my shift. Do you just like sleeping in the pilot seat?” At the accusation, Tech turned in his seat to face his brother, finally removing his eyes from the holopad.

“That has only happened three ti—” “Four.” “Four times yet you refuse to let it go. I’ll be done in a moment, sit down.”

Seeing the boys bicker brought a smile to your face and you loosened your grip on your legs. This really was a family, and you made the right decision in protecting this home, if only they could have moments like this.

“So, Maxis,” Echo switched his attention to you while taking a seat in the chair behind Tech, “you were a part of the GAR at one point?” I was wrong, I made a mistake, I should have run away.

You hummed in response, not wanting to give specific details. You did notice; however, Tech’s hands had stopped fiddling with the holopad, and his eyes seemed to be focused on you.

“What did you do, exactly? The army was big so it’s not likely we would have run into each other but—”

“We couldn’t have,” you shook your head.

“How are you so sure?”

“I… left not long after the Clone Wars started.”

Tech seemed to have decided something and went back to searching. Echo, on the other hand, had gone quiet for a moment to take in what you just said.

“You left? Why, if I may ask?”

Running your hand through your hair, you stared forward back at hyperspace. “I didn’t agree with how the Clone Army was being used, living beings made to be expendable. Disposable lives used to keep those in power safe to make decisions that will never affect them. It went against what the Or—… what the Grand Republic stood for. I did my best to push against the grain, treat each Clone— each soldier as an individual. But… it became too much.”

Your confession hung heavy in the air, the uneasiness settling back in like a thick fog.

“We were trained to fight and were honored to give our lives for the Republic.” Yeah, but that’s how you were raised, your life was taken from you. Didn’t know any different.

“Programmed.” Tech still has his attention on the holopad. “We saw that especially with Order 66.”

Order 66… is that what they called the Purge?

“How did you…”

“Not kill every Jedi on sight? Not join the Empire?” Echo finished for you. “The event that… turned me part droid… damaged the chip they put in us. For the rest of the Batch, they were just too annoying to follow orders.” Echo had such a way in changing the mood.

“Actually,” you didn’t have to look, but Tech held one finger up to make his point, “our mutations made the order ineffective, the same desirable mutations that allow us to disobey orders. Well, except Crosshair for a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, same thing.”

You looked at Tech. “Wait. Mutations? I knew you were… different… but…”

“Yes, each original member of the Batch has an enhanced skill. I collect and digest knowledge faster than any, Wrecker is incredibly strong and good with explosives, Crosshair is the most accurate sharpshooter and marksmen you’ll ever meet—”

“What about Hunter?” Your enthusiastic curiosity got the better of you, which did not go unnoticed by the two Clones. Echo had a slight knowing smirk cross his face, which you did not appreciate what that could lead to.

“As I was saying, Hunter can track anything using his enhanced senses.” As the knowledge sank in, all the bits and pieces about how Hunter knew things made sense.

Kriffing stars. You couldn’t stop the pout on your face as you realized why it was hard to keep things from Hunter.

“Omega never had a chip, but she is a different type of clone.”

“Putting that all together, the seven of you make a real wacky family traveling the galaxy in a beat-up ship. Could make for a great holoshow,” you said with a slight smile.

Echo stood up. “But don’t forget the mysterious rogue mechanic who hid in the ‘fresher. It’ll make for a great story arc,” the smirk on his face was back, but softer. “Tech, go to bed. Maxis, you can take my bunk since it’s free. You really should sleep on something that isn’t a chair, especially since you exerted yourself today. Otherwise, you’ll really regret it.”

You stood up and gave an exaggerated salute before turning on your heels to the bunks, no point in arguing with mom. He rolled his eyes, understanding the joke you were making but was happy you weren’t putting up a fight like you had previously. Tech followed closely behind.

Part 8

________________________________________________________________

Tag List: @rintheemolion @xxspqcebunsxx

If you want to be added to the tag list, just ask in the most convenient way for you or by faxing me a picture of a crab

[negasonicimagines]

Revelation; Part One

warnings/kinks: a/b/o (if you’re penis-repulsed this isn’t for you), smut (duh), brief daddy kink, even briefer mommy kink, cum-eating, cum-marking, cockwarming? (does it count if it’s a/b/o?), light bloodplay, borderline somniphilia (consensual), poisoning, suicidal ideation, allusions to cheating, mentions of conversion therapy, vague mentions of s*xual ass*ult (it doesn’t actually happen in the story, it’s just referred to a lot due to the nature of this universe)

uh… this is another one of those stories that’s just kinda Heavy, please be careful & don’t continue reading if doing so is unsafe for you. I have a variety of other works that don’t have such intense themes, which you can find on my masterlist!

request (+details): Omegaverse: Alphas Yukio and Ellie with a beta reader, but it turns out that reader is a late-bloomer omega who goes into her first heat unexpectedly. / Omegaverse: The setting could be anywhere. The three of them waking up with reader burning hot, believing to be sick but is actually going into heat. The reader could be by themselves when it happens and her alphas come home to a omega in heat / I can’t get this omegaverse idea out of my head, and I hope you don’t mind me telling you this. Reader being alone and confused when her heat came, her alphas gone on a mission. During the time they were gone, Reader made a nest of her alphas’s clothes out of instinct on their bed. By the time Yukio and Ellie returned, Reader is a hot mess from trying to get off, moaning their names and begging for her alphas to help her for she don’t know why she feels like this and is scared.)

synopsis: After Wade discovers you're dealing with suicidal thoughts, he takes it upon himself to help you out, leading to one disaster after another.

author’s note: thank you so much to the lovely anon who requested this for spending so much time with me & making sure everything was juuuust right! Fun fact: we pined, started dating, and broke up, started dating again, and broke up again all before this was published 🙃 sorry everybody, it’s been a rocky road for the past… forever.

Standing guard after school for a few extra bucks is a pretty sweet deal, you have to admit. You mostly just sit around with a pair of binoculars munching on your snack of choice, using a gun loaded with tranquilizer darts to drop anyone who threatens the safety of the school and its residents. If given permission, or an order to do so, you can use your bow and arrow to really take down your enemies.

You’re pretty lucky in life overall, you also have to admit, with two alpha girlfriends and a variety of friends and acquaintances, not to mention the advantages your mutation gives you.

It makes you feel even more guilty for what you’re really thinking about right now. Not Ellie, not Yukio, not keeping an eye out for threats, nothing but a simple question:

Would it be more efficient to slit your wrists with the point of one of your arrows, or to fling yourself from the top of this turret? Which would hurt worse? You look from the sharp arrow you hold in your hand to the plush grass below, managed by some of the other students.

It’s far cheaper to pay students to maintain the yard and house, not to mention it gives students like you a way of earning the kind of spending money that other students receive from their parents or from jobs in town. Your post would be snatched up in no time if you were to pass.

Speaking of parents.

Your father’s exact words to your mother were “I hate that you use a highschool mistake to keep me trapped with you forever!” the last time you happened to hear them argue. They were no longer invited to parent-teacher conferences after that.

It’s a fine reason for him to be angry, but, unfortunately, you’re the highschool mistake he was talking about. The one he’s always talking about whenever they fight. Maybe if you were gone, he’d finally be free. Maybe you’d finally be free from his resentment. He, fortunately enough, rarely lashes out at you directly; however… There’s always been a distance.

Would he love you more if you were gone? If you saved him from… Well, you? You’ve always wanted him to love you, to look at you with something other than anger or resentment. Would he finally be proud of you, for owning up to every horrible thing you are and have done by paying the ultimate price? Would everyone?

You’re holding the bladed tip of the arrow right against your wrist, almost like a normal person might hold a bracelet to their wrist -- trying it on for size, without really thinking about it.

Suddenly, though, Wade’s here. And he’s definitely thinking about it. He yanks the arrow out of your hand, accidentally snapping the wood that makes up its length.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I- Uh, I don’t know,” you mumble, embarrassed, because you honestly don’t. Being alone with your thoughts gives them the space to grow from their poisoned roots into something dark you don’t really recognize as yours.

“You- You don’t know?!” Wade questions, and the unusual severity of his tone stuns you to the point of laughter. “This isn’t fucking funny, what the hell is wrong with you? Why were you-?! What were you-?! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m standing guard. What the fuck are you doing?” you echo dryly, resorting to quips to avoid telling him any more than he already knows.

“I’m freaking out! I can’t kill you for apparently wanting to kill you, so that’s all I can do! I thought you were on antidepressants!”

“I am. Have been for years. They don’t cure depression, they make it easier to manage.”

“Apparently fucking not! Come on, let’s go talk to somebody and get you an appointment with a psychiatrist. You’ve been on the same prescription all these years, right? Maybe you just need your dosage upped.” Wade’s not asking, he’s telling, his hand wrapped around your bicep to pull you along, although his grip isn’t as tight as you’d expect for a man of his stature, let alone an alpha.

Why does he care so much? He’s always so gentle, even when you piss him off like this. Tears well up in your eyes but you blink hard. You know he’s been through worse. That most people here have. You have no right to cry.

Wade yells at a surprised Charles Xavier until an appointment is set up, which goes pretty well. Four days after that incident, you meet with the psychiatrist who agrees that upping your dosage is the smartest decision, frankly, she’s surprised it wasn’t done sooner. And, after about a week of your new dosage level, you’re feeling better than ever.

Way better.

“You… You’d really wanna do that? For everyone to know I’m yours?”

Ellie nods, cheeks darkened. You’re straddling her, and the two of you have been trading heated kisses with Yukio. Who would’ve thought more of the medication you were sure killed your libido before you could even develop one would be what rescued it?

“Of course we would. I know you don’t like to stereotype, but some of the stereotypes have truth to them. We’re… Territorial,” Yukio reminds you.

“I’m… A beta,” you remind her in a teasing echo of her tone.

“Our beta,” Ellie cuts back in. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Even if I’d rather not let you guys, y’know…” Your hand rubs at the space between your neck and your shoulder - where they’d likely mark you with their teeth - nervously. “...today? Or go farther than what we’re doing right now?”

“Of course, baby! The fact that you’ve even done this much…” Yukio trails off, looking over you. Your lips are swollen and still slightly parted as you continue to pant a little. The top few buttons of your (well, borrowed from Ellie) flannel are undone.

“We’re so grateful, and so proud of you,” Ellie continues, drawing your attention back to her. “We’re willing to wait as long as you need, even if that waiting only ends because you’ve decided that being with us like that isn’t something you want.”

“I do. I always have, I just… I don’t know.”

“The feeling’s still there, in your stomach, right?” Yukio wonders.

“Yeah, a little. It’s like… I know it’s not wrong, but something doesn’t feel quite right. Maybe I should just try to ignore it, I mean, you two have needs-”

“Hey. You know better than that, Y/N. We don’t, okay, babe? Not like that. We wanna have sex with you, not- Not hurt you. You understand that, right?” Ellie reassures you.

“I do, I just feel bad for being such a- I don’t know, a tease?”

“We love you. As in, you. If you forced yourself to do something you didn’t want to, just for us, how would we forgive ourselves?” Yukio says what she’s said a million times, but every time it surprises you. You tend to see yourself as only being valuable in what you can offer others— protection, a laugh, some good advice every now and then —you never expect anyone to care for you outside of that. But here they are. Absolutely perfect.

And you were thinking of flinging yourself off a tower a couple weeks ago. Should you tell them? They just think you went for an overdue checkup, which is technically the case. You don’t know what’s worse, hiding it or telling them. You’ll have to talk to Wade, he’s good at giving advice. Might not be good advice, but he’s definitely good at giving it.

“Everything okay, sharpshooter?” Ellie hands gently squeeze your hips to get your attention.

You blink back out of your thoughts, smiling a little and blushing at the nickname.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I just zoned out. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Everything okay?” your alphas ask, again, in unison. Your alphas. They probably couldn’t handle it if you had a problem they couldn’t solve, the guilt of not being able to provide for you would overwhelm them.

“Yeah, totally,” you reply, because it is, now, especially here with them. Ellie starts to button up your flannel.

“Oh, we don’t have to-”

Ellie gives you a pointed look, then looks down at her crotch, then back up at you. Your blush deepens.

“Yeah, I’m guessing a cold shower’s in order,” Yukio agrees. “El, you can go first.”

“We can’t go together?” Ellie asks.

“Well, I don’t wanna leave Y/N alone. Our brave little beta did a lot more than usual. Don’t want you to feel used, baby,” Yukio explains to you both.

“Oh, duh,” Ellie agrees. You give her a quick smooch on the forehead before dismounting her and allowing yourself to be pulled into Yukio’s arms. Ellie grabs some clean clothes and heads off. As soon as the door shuts, Yukio giggles, and you look to her with a curious, confused expression.

“Now you’re all mine to cuddle.” Yukio gloats, kissing the top of your head. “Mm… You smell really good, babe. New shampoo?”

“Ish, yeah,” you agree, despite the fact that you started using it nearly a month ago at this point. Maybe the body heat you built up from the makeout session made it smell stronger, though.

Yukio keeps sniffing you, but you don’t call her out on it. She’s a little bit quirky, sure, but there’s no need to make her feel self-conscious about it when the tickling sensation feels kinda nice. She tosses in a few soft presses of her lips against your skin, too, so it’s not like she’s the only one who benefits.

Yukio eventually stops this, though, instead requesting to scent you. You’ve told the girls before that they don’t have to ask, but they— especially Yukio —seem to prefer to. You figure it’s likely to reassure them that you not only tolerate but appreciate their alphahood.

“I love you, you know that? Not just ‘cause you make me smell like petrichor. I’m surprised Ellie doesn’t spend all day huffing your scent, I… I know I would, if I could smell it.” You didn’t mean for the sad envy to ring so clearly in your words, but it’s as sharp as a knife, cutting deep enough to make Yukio gasp softly with sympathy as she rubs your wrist against her scent gland, eyes snapping open.

“Well, next time it’s about to rain, we’ll go outside, then. Every time it’s about to rain,” Yukio insists. “Who- Who told you?”

“Wade. I was just curious. He said Ellie smells like a campfire, the scent even clings like it. He even said I smell a little weird. Most betas smell like something, but I’m just… A blank canvas.”

You feel her rumble a bit with a growl, and her arms wrap tightly around you… Protectively? You blush.

“Y-Yukio?” you nervously ask, caught off guard. Ellie’s usually more of the growling type. Yukio’s pretty good about keeping her possessiveness and any other “negative” alpha traits in check. This side of her doesn’t come out often.

“What was he doing that close to you?” she snarls protectively, and if the growl wasn’t enough to get your heart racing, that was. “Sm- Smelling you?”

“Yukes, Wade’s the same age as my parents. Honestly, he’s- He’s kinda- He’s nice to me. We’re friends. I think if he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done it by now. You two keep forgetting I’m just a beta. No one wants a piece of this pie except for you and Ellie.”

“You’d be surprised at the way some alphas… It’s sick, but they- Because betas, you know, they don’t really produce slick like omegas do, and they don’t have quite as much give, uh… So, some alphas, um, they… Just let me hold you, okay?” Yukio requests. “I can’t talk about it, it’ll make me too mad.”

“I respect that. Thank you. I, uh, I didn’t realize that at all, so thank you for helping me be even safer,” you reassure her. She’s trembling. “Do you want me to hold you, instead?”

“No, no, this will make me feel better. I just… I love you. Can you just…? Just- Just say you’re mine.” This is a request Yukio has semi-often. When she feels weak in comparison to other alphas, when she feels overshadowed by Ellie, any time she needs reassurance or is just feeling bad, she’ll probably ask. You get it, being hers (and Ellie’s, of course) makes you feel better, too.

“I’m yours, Yukio. Always yours. You make me so happy, both of you. Happier than- You make me feel so-“ You get a bit choked up. These girls, these alphas… They’re so important to you.

“Oh, no, baby, please don’t cry,” Yukio implores, watching your eyes water. You turn so that your face doesn’t just rest on her chest but is buried in it.

“It’s just that no one ever loved me before you two. No one, ever. Not my parents, not my ’friends,’ no one. I don’t know why I’ve been so emotional lately, I’m sorry.”

“No one at all?” Yukio questions, but that’s the missing puzzle piece, she realizes. You’re always treating hers and Ellie’s love for you like it’s something you have to earn, no matter how much they insist being yourself is enough. She fully grasps now that it’s never been enough before.

She holds you even tighter.

“Mm-mm,” you confirm, shaking your head a little. “You and Ellie just mean the whole world to me. And- And… Wade’s my friend, too. Can I still, y’know, spend time with him?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I just- He’s a nice guy, but… I don’t want him to put you in danger. You can handle yourself, though. Can’t you, sharpshooter?” Her fingers trickle up your ribs as she says the nickname, making you giggle and squirm.

“Absolutely, but it is nice to have two strong, sexy alphas take care of me instead every now and then,” you admit, albeit a bit teasingly, blushing softly. You turn back so that you can see her adorable face.

“Really?” Yukio asks, but she knows.

“Really,” you agree with a smile.

“I’m yours, too. You know that, right?” Yukio checks, fiddling with your hair a bit.

“Mhm. It’s nice to hear you say it like that, though.”

“I can think of other ways you might like to hear it,” Yukio flirts.

“Yeah, you think so? Show me,” you tease back.

“I will…” Yukio trails off as she trails her finger along your jaw, tipping your head up to the perfect kissing angle and- “Eventually, little beta.”

“I- I’m taller than you,” you weakly protest.

“Your breath still hitched,” Yukio reminds you with a giggle and a gentle tap on the tip of your nose.

You stutter a little more before giving up, burying your face again and whining.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I just can’t help myself. You’re too cute,” Yukio half-heartedly apologizes, still chuckling to herself as she strokes your back.

Ellie returns from her shower, inky tendrils of hair ruffled around but with no product in.

“She’s asleep?” Ellie asks, sounding a bit disappointed, but there’s still a significant amount of fondness in her tone.

“She’s not,” you mumble back, and both girls chuckle, Yukio untangling herself from you. You can’t help but pout a little, already missing the bubblegum-haired alpha.

“I know Yukio’s your favorite, but you could at least act a little bit happy to see me,” Ellie half-jokes, and you smile, pulling (though she doesn’t give any resistance) the girl back into your bed. She holds you the same way Yukio did, but you don’t really mind the lack of variety.

“You’re both my favorite,” you argue. Ellie takes a deep breath, likely taking in the way you’re completely embraced by Yukio’s scent.

“I don’t think that’s how favorites work,” she chuckles.

“Out of all the people in the world, you two are both my favorite,” you insist. She takes the hand you have resting on her ribcage and holds it inches from her scent gland. “Please,” you say, before she can even ask. Ellie takes a whiff again.

“Did she leave anywhere untouched?” She wonders.

“N-not really,” you stutter, because now you’re thinking of where she didn’t touch you.

“Well, she’ll have to share a little, then,” Ellie says.

You hum with delight as she scents you.

“You make a new friend?” Ellie questions.

“Huh?”

“You smell… Different,” she responds, looking at you… Well, differently. “Like roses.”

“I have a new-ish shampoo?” You offer, but that just seems to intensify the look.

Your phone rings. It’s Wade. You wriggle out of Ellie’s loose hold on you, answering.

“Hey, you know how I’m your academic advisor?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well, apparently, thwarting your suicide attempts isn’t my only job. I also have to tell you when they need you in the office, which is now.”

“Seriously?! I didn’t even throw that pencil at Richard, and even if I did, he deserved it for being such a-“

“Oh, right! Should’ve opened with the good news. Your parents are here to visit.”

“What?! That’s-“ You sigh, not wanting to alarm Ellie any more than you already have. “Okay. I’ll be there. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

“Wow, no shame at all. I salute you. Toodles!” Wade hangs up before you realize he misunderstood you.

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asks.

“Nothing, just… My parents are here.”

“Your… Parents?”

“Kind of have to have those to exist, usually,” you remark, and she snorts.

“I know- I- Well, we’ve known each other for a while, and you don’t really talk about them, so I sort of assumed…” Ellie trails off.

“Oh, um, yeah, no, they’re very alive,” you confirm with an awkward chuckle.

“Right. I’ll go get ‘Kio, and we’ll all go, okay?”

“Uh- Um- Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“My parents, they kind of… They- I love you. And I’m not ashamed of you.”

“But they’ll be ashamed of you,” Ellie understands.

“I haven’t seen them in so long, they don’t even know that I like girls, let alone that I’m dating two, or that they’re both alphas… I want you and Yukio to come with me, but, if they start to- If they’re how they are, I-“

“Give my energy to helping you instead of hurting them,” Ellie uses Piotr’s words.

“Perfect,” you agree, and Ellie smiles back, but it falters. You didn’t mean to worry her so much.

“I’ll go get Yukio. You get changed, okay?”

“Mhm,” you agree, and she heads off to the bathroom. You steal one of Ellie’s band tees and an oversized cardigan of Yukio’s for comfort, finding a pair of high-waisted bottoms to tuck the tee shirt in. You throw on a pair of sneakers, and when the girls emerge from the bathroom, you pop in to freshen up.

Once you’re done, Yukio’s caught up on the situation and the three of you make your way to the front offices.

Wade meets you outside.

“Oh em gee, Y/N, you’ll never believe it, I actually went to high school with both of your parents.”

“Uh… Cool?” You respond, because you’re not entirely sure how to.

“Yeah, uh, I get now that it’s probably not really good news that they’re here, huh? No wonder I found you doing that the other day.”

“Doing what?” Yukio and Ellie ask, though for some reason, Ellie’s is tinged with suspicion, maybe even anger.

“I- Listen, it’s not a big deal, I got my prescription updated and all that good stuff, okay?” You prime them. “I was thinking about killing myself the other day and Wade caught me.”

“Thinking?! You’re gonna call holding the fucking tip of an arrow to your wrist thinking?!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ellie sounds as angry as Wade does, but she looks pained. This is why you didn’t tell them.

“Hey, she doesn’t need this right now,” Yukio argues, but she looks hurt, too.

“I mean, I was just considering if it would be more painful than jumping off of the turret,” you mumble, your defense embarrassingly weak.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Ellie decides, and Yukio nods. You three follow Wade to Xavier’s office. Wade breezes in, but you’re practically stuck in the doorway, nervous to look at even the backs of their heads, before they turn around.

“Y/N,” your mom says with a grin, but you know all too well how fake that is. She approaches you, pulls you into a hug, and you want nothing more than to push her away and scrub yourself clean. She doesn’t really love you. The second you speak out of turn, or make a mistake, or give her any excuse, she’ll remind you of your worth. (Or, rather, the lack thereof.)

She slips back into her seat next to your father, in front of the desk where Xavier sits, simply observing.

“It’s been so long,” your father says, but his smile is almost blatantly fake. “Your hair, it’s different.”

“Like you said, it’s been a while,” you say, giving a grimace and an awkward chuckle.

“I don’t think I like it,” he says, like he’s giving his opinion on a sculpture in an art exhibit by some long-dead artist who doesn’t care what he thinks. Like it’s something just… Objective.

“Not sure what to do about that,” you reply sheepishly.

You don’t fully realize that you’re holding Ellie��s hand until she squeezes it reassuringly, three times. A secret code. You step further in to make room for the girls.

“So, uh, I have to ask… Why the sudden visit?”

“Well, we got an e-mail about your medicine, and we wanted to come check on you. Make sure this is the right environment for you,” your mother explains.

“You weren’t sure before you stopped talking to me for two years?” You half-joke, playing dumb.

“Has it really been two years?” A normal person would be asking this rhetorically, and they’d be embarrassed. Your mother, though, is simply trying to gaslight you.

“Longer,” you assure her.

“I thought this place was supposed to provide conversion therapy,” your father says, eyeing your hand, then Ellie’s other hand. “You’re such a fucking liar,” he hisses to your mother.

“Wow, maybe my mom dying when I was young was for the best. Better than this for sure,” Wade jokes, gently elbowing your side. You chuckle, grateful for even the slightest ounce of comic relief.

“You’re even more of a freak than you were in high school.” You squeeze Ellie’s hand tight as your father’s expression darkens even further.

“Funny you should say that, considering-“

“Wade,” your mother cuts him off.

That’s weird, to say the least. You just file that away for later. You have bigger fish to fry, like surviving this visit.

“Y/N, why’d you go for a check-up at all? You barely needed the anti-depressants in the first place,” your mother wonders.

“Because it wasn’t barely. Why else would they raise the dosage?” You ask, and the expression on her face is as stupid as the question she asked.

“Don’t speak to her that way,” your father scolds, like he didn’t just call your mother a fucking liar himself. “You are so ungrateful for everything we’ve done for you, do you realize that?”

“I’m sorry, what have you done for her, exactly? Answer quickly, please,” Ellie retorts.

“El-“ you start, but realize this isn’t anger, but advocacy.

“Well, we sheltered and fed her for over a decade,” your father remarks, smirking like he’s won.

“That’s your job!” Wade argues.

“Mr. and Mrs. L/N… I politely asked that you refrain from visiting the campus, and while I appreciate your concern for Y/N’s well-being, I must ask that you remain respectful of her, her fellow students, and my staff. Causing unnecessary conflict is exactly the reason you were almost banned when you last visited,” Professor Xavier finally speaks.

“Almost banned?!” Wade wheezes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, and Wade’s laughter immediately ceases. “I was cheating in school, according to- To Dad.” The word is poison in your mouth.

“Come on, we all know you’re not smart enough to get those grades on your own. Probably screwing some teacher, just like Mom.”

“That’s enough,” Ellie snarls, eyes glowing orange.

“I never screwed a teacher!” Your mother protests at the same time.

“Oh, that’s right, you just blew Mr. Morin. My bad. Wow, Y/N, you really must be something special for all these alphas to be fawning over you. Maybe I did fuck up once or twice, after all, I’ve heard daddy issues-“

“Well, you visited! Now get the fuck out,” Wade chirps.

“Mr. L/N, must I repeat myself? I know you and Mrs. L/N were interested in a tour. Perhaps a less crowded area would help ease your minds,” Xavier reminds you all of his presence once more.

“That sounds like a great idea,” your father agrees.

“I’m starting to get a bit of a headache, maybe you could show us your room first and I could lie down for a bit in there?”

“I-“ You look to the girls, not wanting them to have to deal with her alone.

“Actually, Miss Phimister and Miss Kitsuna would be perfect additions to a rescue team. The orphanage your friend Russell came from was actually part of a network for mutant trafficking, and we found another hub in Maine. The jet takes off in fifteen minutes, and you two will be back in time for dinner. Better get ready and briefed.”

“But-“ Yukio starts, looking to you.

“Go, be superheroes,” you tell them, and they head out. “Uh, how about we swing by the library first, to give them time to change, and then to our room?”

“You share a room with them? Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“We were roommates before we started dating,” you correct him.

“Dating… Aw, I bet you really think that’s what it is, too. Having parents in a sham of a marriage really did a number on you, huh?” Your father condescends.

“You know, it’s pretty fucked up how fixated you are on her sexuality. Do you like to picture it, you goddamn creep?” Wade defends you, and your skin crawls. You’d never thought of it that way before.

“Let’s just get that tour started, ‘kay?” You squeak. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner they’ll be on their way, hopefully.

“Good idea, Y/N,” Wade says. “Come on, Textbook, let’s go.”

“You didn’t just call me-“

“Oh, but I did, Textbook. Hey, Y/N, did you know that was your dad’s nickname in highschool? ‘Cause he was so fuckin’ easy to shove in a locker.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh and failing.

“Just show us the library already, Y/N,” your mother says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You take your parents to the library, as requested. Wade keeps pace with you while your parents fall back. You can’t hear their exact words, but you know your parents are bickering.

“You never said it was this bad.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s definitely been worse,” you admit, busying your eyes with the paintings that line the walls so that you don’t have to meet Wade’s gaze. You might just cry if you do; you can feel the sympathy radiating off of him.

In these past few months, Wade’s been more of a father than your dad, even more of a mother than your mom, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel more justified in how you feel about your parents. In fact, it just makes you feel worse, and even if you’ve never actually expressed it, you’re still ashamed of the fact that you wish Wade was your father instead. He actually cares, while your parents are simply legally obligated.

From the day you met, Wade’s always been there for you. If you were to tell your parents what you almost did the other day, they’d just call you attention-seeking and insult you in other ways. All they’d do is make you want to try again.

You and Wade stop at the entrance to the library and wait for your parents to catch up. They do, and you open the double doors to reveal the room.

“It’s like Beauty and the Beast,” your mother gapes.

“I thought so, too,” you agree, attempting a smile, but your parents just ignore you, wandering around the large room. Your mother excuses herself after a few minutes of spinning, saying that the dizziness is making her headache worse.

“All these books and you’re still… The way you are,” your father comments, looking at you with such disdain.

“Winner of the science fair with her loving partners, three years in a row?” Wade questions. “Oh, or maybe you’re talking about the fact that she’s a published poet. How embarrassing for you, I’m sure.”

“Wade,” you protest under your breath, embarrassed. They don’t even know that stuff. After middle school, you stopped telling them about your accomplishments. You figured out that all they’d do is ruin them for you.

“No, no, trust me. It’s more about the fact that she’s slutting around with alphas and won’t even save us the embarrassment of them being girls,” you father spats.

“That’s enough,” Wade snarls.

“Oh, that’s right, we can’t forget that she’s yours, too. I guess anything with a dick is daddy considering I was too busy putting food on the table to play dollies,” he remarks, and you suddenly feel light-headed.

“Seriously, Textbook, I really don’t want to hurt you, especially not in front of Y/N, but I fucking will if you make me.”

“Just go,” you urge Wade, starting to feel a bit dizzy, surely from the stress. You brace yourself on him, disguising it as a touch meant to comfort him. He looks concerned as the edges of your vision start to darken a little.“I- What you’re doing, I appreciate it, but-“

“You appreciate it? You appreciate him disrespecting me, disrespecting our family?!”

“Our family?!” You finally snap. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me, and you couldn’t do that. You just couldn’t. And now we’re a family?! No. No, you…” You start to pant, your face feeling even hotter than before. “You… I hate you,” you manage to get out before your world goes completely dark.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N! I’m so prou-“

But when Wade turns to you, you’re halfway to the ground. He catches you, though, and he catches a whiff of something… Familiar.

Lavender. It’s not just the Wilson scent, sure, but it’d be too much of a coincidence. You smell just like him. You are him, or, rather, made of him.

He’s torn between ecstatic and furious.

“Hey, can we get some help over here?” your father calls out to no one. It’s not a school day, and lots of students are out on missions. He reaches out to you for once in your life, but Wade’s now sitting on the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“No,” Wade argues. “Not yours. Mine.”

“What?” You father asks incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“She’s. Not. Yours,” Wade repeats, and the more he inhales your scent, the more out of control yet calm he feels. Like he’s in the eye of a hurricane. “My baby. Mine.”

“You’re not saying…” your father trails off as Wade gets up, still cradling you. Wade has to take you to your room; help make you a nest, now. He can smell it on you.

You’re in heat.

He gets to your room quickly, practically tossing you onto your bed. Wait… Isn’t your mom supposed to be here?

And that’s when he hears the sound of pills spilling onto the floor.

He nearly rips the bathroom door off of its hinges. Luckily, your mother spilled what Wade quickly realizes is suppressants, and not your prescription.

“You. You could’ve killed her. You are very, very lucky that my baby-“

“Our baby,” your mother corrects.

“No, you take pills, you can’t even smell her, let alone feel her like I can. It- It’s so much it fucking hurts. I’ll say it again, you’re very lucky my baby is in heat, or your arteries would be emptying in that shower. Now, go. Don’t come back.”

You groan in pain, stirring, and your mother takes Wade’s advice. Wade calls Yukio. Then Ellie. Then Yukio. Then Ellie.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“You need to turn around. Now. I don’t have the time to explain. It’s Y/N.”

“Is she okay?” Ellie, always skeptical, asks.

“Obviously fucking not, or I wouldn’t be calling. She’s in heat.”

“But-“

“I said that I don’t have time to explain, fucking turn around! I’m on the verge of going fucking feral, Ellie. You both need to get here, now.”

“Wade, get out,” Ellie immediately demands.

“I can’t,” he admits.

“Get out! Shit, Wolverine! We need to turn around!”

“I can’t. It’s not like that I swear, it’s… I’m going fucking crazy, just one of you will do, but someone needs to get here.”

“Wade, go.”

“I would never hurt her! Come home!” Wade barks before hanging up. He returns to your room to find you’ve made a nest instinctively - thank goodness for Yukio’s affinity for pillows and blankets - and now you’re curled up in pain in the center of it.

“Wade,” you whimper. He’s scared to step closer, not sure if he’s what you want, even if you despise who you thought was your father. “What’s happening to me? Everything hurts.”

“I really don’t know how to say this, but… You’re in heat.”

“But I’m a beta,” you argue, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“That’s what we all thought. But… Remember how you didn’t smell like anything before? Uh, let me start over. When did you start on your anti-depressants?”

“I was about twelve,” you confirm, not sure what that means.

“Yeah, I think those were suppressants. That it’s always been suppressants, no matter what the bottles said. Until you got a prescription without your mother knowing. Do you understand why your mother would do that?”

You shake your head, and he approaches the bed, sitting down carefully as not to disturb your work.

“Her boyfriend around the time she got pregnant with you was a beta. We know him as Textbook,” Wade teases, before continuing: “But, what no one realizes is that he was at Niagara Falls on spring break around the time when you were conceived, and she was hanging out with her next-door neighbor the whole time. Her next-door neighbor was me.”

“Oh, so I’m your highschool mistake,” you say, connecting the dots.

“Huh?”

“Ha, well, whenever my parents- Well, I guess not my parents, but that’s beside the point, uh, whenever they argue and it gets really bad, my father- Well, not my father, but, uh-“

“Continue,” Wade urges.

“Basically, sometimes he uses ‘a mistake I made in highschool’ as code for ‘Y/N,’” you explain. “But the truth is, I’m the mistake you made in highschool.”

“You’re not a mistake,” he disagrees. “You’re- You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Lots of things are made by accident, but that doesn’t make them mistakes! Penicillin, potato chips, Post-It notes, popsicles! They were never supposed to exist but they do and the world is much better off with them in it.”

“You really do have a lot of useless knowledge,” you realize.

“So do you, that’s why our team always wins trivia night.” Wade slips off his boots, joining you in your rearranged bed. “C’mere,” he suggests, guiding your head to his neck.

“S’really you,” you mumble, already weary, and Wade worries for what’s to come. He almost doesn’t even want to let the girls in. He could get you pain medicine, he could probably even find sedatives. Then no one would ever be able to even touch you, let alone hurt you. “Lavender. You never mentioned the lavender, just the sandalwood.”

“I didn't think you’d be impressed,” Wade admits.

“It’s relaxing,” you tell him. “It’s nice to have things in common with someone.”

“You smell like roses, too, not just lavender,” he makes sure you know.

“Yeah, but I think that’s mostly concentrated in an area I’d rather not discuss with you.”

“Well, just make sure that if you do decide to do anything more with them than cuddle, which I can gladly go through the rest of my life without knowing, bee-tee-dubs, that the girls are wearing alpha condoms, especially if one of them knots you. Standard condoms work in a pinch if it’s just for one, y’know, go, but for heats they’re basically useless because of everything I just said. If they hurt you, I will make their deaths look like accidents.”

“S’not like I can get pregnant anyway…” You mumble, embarrassed. “I’m- I’m really glad it’s you. I- I wished so many times that it was you instead of him. Ow, ugh, that one was bad,” you groan, massaging your stomach.

Meanwhile, on the jet, Ellie is furious with herself.

“Yukio, you don’t get it, I smelled her. She smelled like an omega, but I thought- I assumed she was cheating on us. That maybe she didn’t want to be with us like that was because she wanted to- I don’t know, to be on top? It seems so stupid now.”

“Hey, I noticed she smelled different, too. There were other signs we both missed, anyways. Think about how emotional she’s been lately, or how much farther we’ve been going in other ways. How clingy she’s been, too.”

“I guess I didn’t really notice it because I liked her being more open and needing us more,” Ellie admits. “She- She almost fucking killed herself. And I thought cheating was what she was hiding. I- I just-“

“You can’t beat yourself up over it,” Yukio insists. “We’re on our way back, and Wade’s there to protect her.”

Speaking of Wade being there to protect you, he continues to comfort you as the pain gets worse.

“S’too hot,” you complain, and he releases you from his hold, rising from the bed. He knows he’ll have to leave you soon, because you’re likely going to need privacy before the girls get home, but it’s hard to part from you knowing you’re in pain.

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay? And after that, I’m just gonna stand guard outside the door until your girls get here. I know there’s some stuff you need to do, and that’s only gonna get worse.”

“It’s already awful,” you admit, and he chuckles.

“Good luck, kid. I love you.”

Wade gets a case of bottled water from the school’s industrial-sized pantry, bringing it to your room and tearing it open for you before leaving once more. You take one, immediately guzzling it down.

In privacy, you take off Yukio’s cardigan and your bottoms, leaving you in Ellie’s tee shirt and your underwear. You decide to go ahead and free yourself from the constriction that is your bra, feeling a bit embarrassed that you’re not leaving much to the girls’ imagination for your first time together. You eventually decide to undress completely, wondering when the hell your girls are gonna get here.

[burnedbyshoto]

taoreta

— The world is in ruins, but there’s beauty in everything. Shouto is reminded of that when he crosses paths with a survivor who kisses him at the first meeting. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, apocalypse!au, cursing, violence, first time writing fight scenes, death, angst, fluff, blood, gore, vomit, & kinks (sexual frustration, hairpulling, biting, marking, scratching, desperation, breeding)

word count: 18,119

a/n: so the thing about apocalypse aus I found out is that the world building is so fucking fun that I forgot that this was an nsfw thing........ so I sincerely apologize if this feels rushed I tried to make this feel solid but like with enough world building to satisfy me. anyways, this is for the bnharem collab, you know the drill. this was not edited at all im so sorry.

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The world was in chaos.

Or well, it once was but still a hundred years after what could only be described as an apocalypse; well, there was still an apocalypse. 

Many years ago, well before Todoroki Shouto could remember, quite frankly well before he was alive there had been the introduction of something within the human genome. It was a mutation of sorts, a new gene that allowed individuals to unlock and evolve into these powerful beings that for years longer people used to write about.

People who could breathe fire, emit ice, and fly through the sky! For years it had been a glorious step forward for humankind, a hopeful promise that maybe things would be better — that all things would end better. If Shouto looked hard enough he could still see scattered newspapers in the abandoned streets; nearly destroyed papers from well before any of his parents or grandparents were born indicating the glory days of quirks.

But what was once thought to be a step forward in human evolution ended with a sickening twist. 

Those with quirks went on rampages the moment they turned twenty-five, slaughtering and killing everyone in their path. Their mind overtaken by their quirks with the single thought and decision to kill everyone who dared to stop them, who were weaker than them. It must have been terrifying back then, to be so meek, powerless, and afraid seeing people you had once cheered on in acceptance and grace kill off the population in the millions.

Humankind could never survive this.

Those gifted with such powerful feats were granted the ability to live on as immortals, that is until humanity decades later learned it was not true immortality. It was a mere obstruction that was solved when the quirk-given was killed by man. Other than that… they lived on, and on, and on. The false immortality yet another edge against humanity.

People with quirks — better known as the Taoreta today — were the modern-day zombies except there was no rise of the dead, no mass groups of people who craved your flesh and your blood.

No.

They were once users with quirks who appeared just like normal people, sure some of them had distinct quirk features, but for the most part, unless they were distinctly different you couldn’t tell until it was too late. 

Todoroki Shouto was different though.

He was apart of the few lasting survival groups in Japan, in the world. 

His group was called Yuuei, a collective group of nearly two hundred people who occupied a deserted boarding school entitled U.A. They were apart of the population that was considered to be quirkless, and well, no one had been born with a quirk within this base yet.

This boarding school, but what Shouto had been able to piece together after spending his entire livelihood in the confines of the barbed wired, specially scented gates they lived in. The Gladiolus flower was the worlds saving grace. 

By planting these flowers among bases and fragrancing them along borders and barriers, your area was both ignored by those with quirks or smelled so disgusting to those with quirks they would never dare cross. Of course, this wasn’t always true — Shouto had seen too many times the few outliers of this truth stumble towards the base. 

Eyes power-hungry, quirks blaring a kilometer away and that horrific silence before a battle. These monstrous onslaughts had decimated his entire bloodline, leaving him only by himself with his friends and chosen family. Everyone had still thought him lucky, he was born around the same time as twenty other babies. His entire life he had grown up in an environment where he always had someone to play with, to learn with, to practice with. 

Children were forced to grow up fast in this time and age, no longer was the world of coddling and gentle love. If you loved your children you would teach them how to be resourceful, teach them how to fight, how to kill. By the time you turned fifteen within Yuuei, you were expected to pitch in to survive. Formal classroom education continued on all the way until you were eighteen, but it was known that everyone needed to maintain some sort of educational standard so that Yuuei would never fall internally. 

Everyone had a part to play, a piece to do in order to keep things running smoothly.

There were the low-risk jobs within Yuuei starting with the janitors. They were in charge of making sure the school grounds and indoors remained safe and tidy. They applied the Gladiolus flower extract to the gates daily during the fall and winter as the flowers died out by then. It was an easier job, one that was given more to the young children and the elders who could no longer do much else.  

Then there were the chefs. They were in charge of the grand garden the community had created many decades ago. They harvested and cooked plenty of vegetables throughout the year, always managing to make just enough so that no one went hungry or starving for more than a day. As recently as thirty years ago, they had introduced their form of animal raising too. Mostly raising and killing deer that had stumbled within their main gates.

Then there was the government. The main part of the government consisted of three people — the president, the vice president, and the one training to one day become president. They took these jobs seriously, meeting every day to see what the community’s latest problems were, discussing to the hundreds of civilians working within this base to make sure civil conflict never broke out. There was also a council made of one member of each residing family member — Shouto remembers that it was his mother who was apart of the council when she was alive… he had assumed this role after she tragically passed, but it was not his only job.

Then there were the educators. These were the ones who dedicated their lives to learning and studying everything they could within their limited, never truly evolving standards so that each younger generation could have a solid foundation within this new world. Shouto remembered how Fuyumi had been so excited to finally reach the end of her second year as a teacher, her eyes delightfully hopeful, ever so clear and bright despite the life they lead. 

You could never forget the engineers and the mechanics here — after all, they held one if not the most important job. They were the reason why there was still energy and electricity running through the base, why running water was able to be used by members twice a month, why truly life on base hadn’t erupted into a complete dystopia, and of course, keeping the seekers and the medics alive.

Medics were a given. They were the true saving grace of the camp, Shouto thought so at least. They healed physical injuries, as there were always plenty of those, and they smoothed over mental trauma which was prevalent in every corner of this base. Without medics, they would have never survived this long. Shouto still frequents them aplenty, his trauma from the death of his family still weighing heavily on his chest, his lips always dry and cracked when he remembered how his older brother Natsuo had been ecstatic to join the medical line. He was so big and intimidating in size many had always questioned why he wasn’t a seeker, but Shouto knew his brother had the kindest heart, he wasn’t a fighter unless he had to be. 

And finally, there were the seekers. Seekers were by far the most pivotal, most dangerous, and least rewarding role within the base. Twice to three times a week, seekers were to leave the base and go out and search for survivors, resources, anything that may be useful. While for the past hundred years that people have resided in U.A. the local town had been their saving grace, always relying on the abandoned town for their needs, but they had cleared it years ago. Now seekers went out further to get items, all while still doing their basic patrols, and of course fighting off any Taoreta. When they weren’t out running around the country, they were doing patrols around the base to ensure they were always safe. This is the job Shouto has — a job that most of his friends held too. His father and Touya had also held this job long ago, but he had never been able to accomplish a successful run with them…

No… he had to block out that memory.

“Oi, Todoroki!” a voice clipped through his headspace, and Shouto looked away from the cabinet he was once rummaging through. “Get your head outta your ass and do something already, dammit.”

He turned to look at Bakugou who was as grimy and dirty as he was, only that his bag was full of crap and Shouto’s only had dust. Shouto nodded, an apology leaving his lips when his eyes returning back to the already pillaged cabinets and scoured what he could, collecting what he thought to be useful for the base.

It took fifteen minutes for Bakugou and Shouto to pillage all the abandoned homes on this street, they were a great duo together, often working together due to their abrasive and deadly styles and intellect on the field. They had a kill list of three Taoreta together, and an individual score of one on their own, it didn’t seem like much, but coming from people who held no power over these god-like humans, it was incredible. Most people never survived more than one attack from the Taoreta.

But it wasn’t anything to be relieved over, especially not when each survived victory landed them both in hospice care for months. 

“Sector five has been cleared,” Shouto spoke into his telecom the moment Bakugou and he emerged from the final house, his eyes glancing at the setting sun in worry. “How’s everyone else doing? Sun setting.”

“We’re all on the car already, waiting on you guys!” came Midoriya’s instant reply.

“This is all your fault,” Bakugou grumbled bitterly while the two of them turned on their heel and began running towards the car they had taken here. “Last as always!”

“We had the most houses to loot, Bakugou, it’s a given,” was Shouto’s easy response, not at all affected by the huffing annoyance of his friend while they reached the car.

Easy and grateful smiles were exchanged between the six seekers when Shouto and Bakugou rejoined the group, a whole day of running this block had left them with zero casualties. On top of all this, they all had full bags of taken items; Shouto considered it a tremendous victory. 

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“And what are we checking in today, Todoroki-kun?” Iida asked while Shouto dumped his bag onto the table.

“Toilet paper, paper rolls, canned peaches, flour, rice, medication formula for birth control, expired condoms, and some water,” Shouto listed off, pulling out the items one by one to the nodding Iida.

Iida was a member of the council, and also a seeker much like Shouto was. He was objectively the fastest seeker they had, often clearing out entire rows of houses in half the time it took everyone else. Iida was someone Shouto appreciated very much in this doomful life, a clear leader, and a promising candidate for the presidency one day.

“Oh! The canned peaches could make an excellent addition to Momo’s birthday coming up soon! Kirishima-kun and Sato-kun hit the jackpot with sugar yesterday! This would be a great celebration!” Iida announced, partitioning the different items into different baskets, each one placed into appropriate bins. Shouto remained silent, but he nodded his head, a tired sigh pushing through his lungs while Iida finished putting away his found items. “Momo will also be glad to finally have this formula in her hands, she’s been trying so hard at cracking the code for birth control! But alright! Now for checking in weapons, what do you have for me?”

Shouto’s hands immediately moved to the holsters strapped to his legs.

By being born into this madness, he was never given the right to using any of the guns they held. Guns and ammunition were scarce to come by, they were even more scarce than some of the items they were consistently running out of. When they turned eighteen, each member was given three bullets to attempt to sink it into a target 100 meters away, sink two bullets in, and you were given the right to carry a gun, miss and you wouldn’t.

Of Shouto’s graduating class of forty-one students, only three of them were granted that ability — and two of them weren’t even seekers.

Shouto handed over the knives he had strapped to his muscled thighs, the katana that was strapped to his back, and the brass knuckles that sat on his fists. He remained silent while handing over the fire and ice bombs he had managed to perfect under his parent’s original formulas. He never understood why he wasn’t allowed to keep those bombs, he was the only one who ever checked them out after all, but again, civil disputes could occur at any time, and if the seekers had weapons the rest of the base would be doomed.

“Everything’s accounted for, Iida?” Shouto asked watching while Iida placed everything away.

“Yes!” Iida confirmed, a smile on his face while his hands placed onto his hips with confidence. “Go and get dinner and take a shower!”

Shouto smiled softly. If there was one good thing about being a seeker that wasn’t just experiencing the outside world, it definitely was the fact that being a seeker meant you got to shower more regularly than everyone else.

Dinner was plain as always, a bowl of rice, a slice of deer meat, and an egg. There were a lot of hens here.

Shouto sat with his friends while he ate, quietly adding on to conversations, contradicting his friends whenever he could. It was the little things in life that kept him going honestly, and little things were having Bakugou trying to reach across the dining tables to strangle him while Midoriya and Kirishima intervened. It never failed to make him smile.

“What’s your new schedule for the week, Todoroki?” Kirishima asked, his head dodging Bakugou’s flying elbow with a sharklike grin.

Kirishima was an odd person within this base, he had sharp teeth that reminded everyone of a shark — most people had always assumed it was a side effect of a quirk that had been hidden for ages, but it turned out that while humans evolved quirks for the worse, they were evolving still. Shouto’s own naturally bicolored hair was a testament to that. 

“I go on runs Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday,” Shouto spoke with food chipmunked into his cheek. “Council meets on Tuesday, Thursday as always, so I have patrol at night those days. Weapon checkout and morning patrol Monday. Saturday’s my day off.”

“Oh, nice! Looks like all of us have Wednesday and Friday together!” Kirishima cheered, his arms finally letting go of Bakugou who had… calmed down. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a good stash and other sur— OW!”

Kirishima’s eyes narrowed onto Bakugou who had deliberately slammed an elbow into his ribcage, but his face softened at the thought of the word he was going to say. 

Shouto smiled softly, his head shaking despite it all and he stood up.

“I’m going to go and shower, one of the floors gave through today so I’m a bit exhausted,” Shouto explained, gathering the reusable plate, cup, and chopsticks he had assigned to him. He would scrap any residual food off it and wash it tomorrow — about twenty years ago the mechanics had managed to figure out a reusable and self-cleaning water system used to wash dishes. It was a game-changer for this community.

The echoing goodnights followed after Shouto while he left the dining hall, his hands fisted into his pockets while he climbed the ten flights of stairs to get to his room’s floor. 

U.A.’s building was very unique by the looks of it, even for its time when it was first built. It was created with four separate towers, each tower connected with a single walkway to its adjacent tower. From a ways back it looked like an H — at least to Shouto it did. It was to Shouto’s understanding that each tower was designated for different professions for the once Taoreta thriving society. One tower was for hero-in-training students, one tower for general students, one tower for support students, and one tower for business students — at least that was what was understood by the textbooks found in these old classrooms. Of the four towers, only the support student tower was uninhabited because there were always modifications and major systems running there and they needed all the room. 

Shouto, along with most of his friends, resided in the hero-in-training tower. Because he had once had such a large family his room — something that was greatly unappreciated by the other members of the community — Shouto had to climb all the way to the top of the building.

No one else resided on this floor with him, which was often nice because it had once meant he and his family could do whatever they wished. But with their passing, it was so lonely, so offputting that Shouto only returned to his room to sleep and that was it.

The shower was comforting tonight, the gentle smell of the soap drafting off his body along with thick suds eased him. His shower lasted only a whooping two minutes; they had been taught how to efficiently shower, wasted water was always a downfall. Even with the major technological advances they made, running water was still a problem they had yet to solve. His dirty grimy skin that hadn’t showered in three days sang in relief with the dirt gone; his last seek was that many days ago after all. 

With a towel around his waist, he walked back to his room, the suffocating darkness strangling him when he stepped into the room. Shouto paid no attention to the way his skin crawled in loneliness, his attention focused on placing the toothpaste pill on his tongue and grimacing at the sharp, minty taste. It seemed that Mei was messing around with the flavors again.

Finally satisfied with his clean-smelling breath, Shouto wasted no time in crawling into his bed, his eyes concentrated on his journal that read practically what was the same thing it always said every day he wrote an entry into it (the medics said that these entries were healthy for his mental wellbeing):

September 16, 2XX1

It’s been eight years since everyone died, and another day spent working. I’m not feeling any different from the day before, but I am looking forward to celebrating Yaoyorozu’s birthday this coming Saturday. It won’t be any different from last year, but it should be fun.

Signed, Todoroki Shouto

It took some time, but eventually sleep consumed Shouto, his mind restless despite his slumber.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Shouto paused when the blood on the door handle easily transferred onto his fingers. He pressed his fingers to his palm, the padding on the fingerless glove shining dully with the slick of blood across the material. He could only make one conclusion from this: it was recent.

“I just made contact with fresh blood,” Shouto spoke into the radio system, his eyes concentrated on the door he was supposed to enter through. “I’m going in, if I don’t respond in five minutes, assume the worst and leave.”

“If it’s an injured Taoreta—” Bakugou warned, his voice the first to respond over the com system, but Shouto already knew what his best partner would say to this.

“Can’t have me having all the glory, I know. Besides, I don’t think it’s a Taoreta, there’s no major damage anywhere and well… if it’s injured there should be some fight scene.”

Shouto’s lips tugged into a small smile when Bakugou began to argue back about how he noticed there was no major destruction around this part of the block, and he dropped his scavenger bag onto the floor. If this was a survivor there was no saying if they were good or bad, and well, Shouto wasn’t about to fight a bad one with 10 kilograms on his back.

The door creaked loudly when he entered, his hand pulling out the hunting knife he had. The other day his typical go-to katana had been broken during a brief battle between a weak Taoreta and a veteran seeker. It had been a hard loss, Shouto wouldn’t lie, but it was manageable because his knives had been salvaged. 

He crept in silently, the soles of his combat boots nearly silent against the floor while he walked in, his concentrated on the scene around him, all senses on high alert due to the insane anxiety from this all. His eyes dragged across every crook and nanny of the entrance room, not quite sure what to expected from this until he saw something ruby red smudged on the floor.

With a small nod to himself, Shouto proceeded forward, following the light trail of blood until he stopped into a room where the trail ended and no one was. He frowned looking around the abandoned room, old and long faded drawings covered the walls, the bed hastily made, and crayons scattered on the floor. 

Maybe the person had already left, he thought glancing down at the crayons figuring that they would be good to take back. But the moment that he turned to face the door, was when he finally saw someone, and it was a good thing too because he ducked out of the way of a quick, most definitely life ending swing of a bat that held multiple nails in it.

Shouto’s eyes were wide while he dodged and weaved out of the way of the swinging bat, strong elbows bashing into his ribs, and the occasional nail tearing into his skin. He could barely focus on his attacker, his concentration heavy on the way that this person was tirelessly fighting for their life despite the exhaustion in their bones. 

He weaved and dodged the flying wood, cursing at the way it nicked his skin in multiple places, and how their foot slammed into his stomach. It knocked the wind out of Shouto as he fell onto the floor, the wild look in their eyes as the bat arched downward only to miss him, embedding into the floor. Shouto took that as an initiative to slam his foot onto the hilt of the bat, the weapon clanging onto the floor while he tackled his attacker onto the floor.

“Let go!” you shrieked, your eyes in a panic while you attempted to twist your body out from under Shouto. “I’m not going to let you fucking kill me, you stupid fucking Taoreta!”

Now that bothered Shouto.

“I’m not some damn Taoreta!” Shouto spat back, his eyes narrowing down onto how you were struggling against his hold. Blood was dried and matted onto your forehead, dirt, grime, and soot-covered every exposed millimeter of your body, and blood-soaked your arm. 

With that simple sentence, Shouto watched in almost confused annoyance when you snapped up to look at him. Your hair was matted, it was obvious that while you weren’t horrendously smelly, you hadn’t bathed in days. Your lips were cracked and pale, and your eyes looked so scared, lost, and still… excited? The tears that poured down your face highlighted the clearer skin that was covered by the dirt.

“Are you okay? You’re smiling pretty weir— mmph?!”

Shouto’s words were stolen from his tongue for you had reached upward in this desperate, frantic glee and kissed him firmly on the lips. It wasn’t often that Shouto froze, and honestly, he could count the number of times he had been frozen to the core, but with this desperate, longing kiss on his lips that exploded fire onto his cheeks, he was unable to move. He was only able to feel the wet streaks from your cheeks pressed onto his, focus on the heavy frantic breathing that passed through your nose.

His eyes blinked rapidly while you pulled away from him, a starstruck look on your face.

“It’s… it’s been a year since I’ve seen anyone who wasn’t a Taoreta,” you awe, fingers pressing onto his cheeks in an attempt to make sure this was actually real. “Are you real? You’re real right? Please don’t tell me you’re—”

“TODOROKI, ARE YOU ALIVE!” a voice bellowed, the door being kicked open, and both Shouto and you looked at the entrance of the room to see Bakugou standing there with his weapons drawn, teeth bared in a silent cry of war. 

Shouto didn’t know what to do, feeling as if the world’s gravity was crushing onto him while he gathered the confused, appalled look in Bakugou’s eyes while he looked down onto the interesting position he was in. You, on the other hand, felt more tears forming in your eyes at the sight of yet another survivor. 

“The fuck you playing hooky for?!” Bakugou yelled, his face contorted with disgust and something unreadable when staring at the position the two of you were in. “Who the fuck is this?!”

Shouto remained speechless, his mind still stuck on the fact that you had kissed him like separated lovers and not the strangers that you were. Worse off he was caught in an embarrassing position by Bakugou of all places who was quite frankly the meanest guard dog they had. You weren’t given a second to speak, to try to clarify who you were and why you were here because Bakugou clicked everything together far faster than you could defend yourself. 

“Don’t tell me this is a fucking Taoreta with a damn love quirk!” Bakugou snapped, grabbing Shouto by the collar and throwing him off you.

Your eyes widened in a panic, the sickening sound of unsheathing steel ringing venomously in your ears while Bakugou drew dual arming swords. You scrambled backward immediately, hands finding the hilt of your bat and spinning up to your feet in a readying position. Like hell you were going to be murdered. 

“Bakugou, stop!” Shouto yelled, pushing himself up onto his feet while the blond-haired man shot forward at you. 

He cursed annoyedly, unable to intercept or intervene Bakugou’s explosive fighting style with just his knives. But he also realized that you weren’t failing at keeping Bakugou away with just a bat in the small room. Swings of steel and wood whistled in the air while the two of you went at it, useless battle soaked insults being thrown left and right while Shouto could only watch as the swords embedded into the bat, and then into a wall.

Shouto acted quickly, his arms circling under Bakugou’s armpits, his hands locking around his head and yanking him away. 

“She’s not a damn Taoreta, she’s a survivor!” Shouto yelled again, both of them stumbling backward and landing on the floor while you remained frozen by the wall. Both the weapons stable in the wall despite the horror of what could have been the end of your life. 

“How the fuck would you know that?! She could be brainwashing you for all we know!” Bakugou yelled, his body twisting and turning, trying to get out the larger mans hold. “Slimy little shit got you didn’t she?!”

“I’m not a Taoreta!”

“She’s not a Taoreta!”

You and Shouto yelled in synch, your fingers thrusting up to your eyes. “Do you see my sclera?! They’re not fucking red!”

The two men froze in their struggles to get the other to obey their commands, both raising their attention to you, shocked by what you said.

“What do you mean?” Shouto asked, his arms still holding Bakugou in place, his eyes landing on you confused. 

You, on the other hand, froze. Your eyes blinked owlishly, fingers curling into a weak fist and placing onto your stomach, “Have you guys never noticed? Taoreta always has their scleras turn red and they grow darker with prolonged quirk use… that’s how you know how strong and how long they’ve been around. The stronger they are, the redder the sclera.”

“Get the fuck off me,” Bakugou growled, his body twisting against Shouto, but Shouto was too busy thinking about what you said, his mind sucked into his memories of that fateful night. “Bastard, I’m not gonna attack her! Let me fucking go already, dammit!”

Shouto let go immediately, watching as his friend rolled over onto his knees and stood up without a single hitch. Bakugou yanked his swords from the wall letting your bat fall onto the floor with a loud crash. His eyes burned into you, watching you with a borderline sneer until he walked away.

“Figure out what the fuck we’re doing with her, five minutes until we have to leave,” was the only thing Bakugou uttered before leaving the building.

“What to do with me?” you echoed, your fingers twitching down towards your bat. “Don’t tell me the first people I find in a year are cannibals!”

Shouto’s face twists while looking up at you, your hands once again grabbing your bat raising it up in an act of self-defense; agony and disbelief overflowing in your face. It was bleeding obvious now that you had been alone for ages, the already emotional polar ends of yourself revealed to Shouto even before he knew your name. 

“You need to calm down, we’re not cannibals, Bakugou literally walked away. If we were, you would have been dead already,” Shouto reasoned, his hands held up in a signal of surrender while he stood. His words were calm and steady, his “We’re a part of a surviving group, and we have a base up on the mountain north from here. You’re the tenth person we’ve found out here, and if you would like, we can offer you a place.”

“How can I trust you? You could be some cult group for all I know! Using me as some breeding whore to bring the second coming of the taoreta!” you panicked, your eyes wild with the fabricated lies you were drawing in your mind. “I don’t have the hips to have a child! I won’t bear your dumb cult a child!”

Shouto blinked, a low headache forming behind his eyes while he looked at your heaving form. He studied you closer now, your bat was frozen in place while you stared back. Your cheeks were sunken from lack of nutrients, your lips pale and cracked, and your eyes (once you ignored the savage glint to it) were like glass. You were not okay, even if you had managed to fight both Bakugou and him, there was no doubting that you hadn’t eaten in days.

Shouto sucked in his cheeks, by the looks of it you were running on pure adrenaline at this point — not actual energy.

“Meet back at the car in five,” Kirishima’s voice rang in the headset, and Shouto’s mouth pursed. 

“We’re not cannibals, or a cult, or whatever weird groups of people you’ve run into. We’re just… people trying to live to see the next day. Come with us, or not, I can’t convince you, but we have shelter... food, water, showers. If you want, we can be a place for you to stay, if you want.” Shouto speaks softly, his hands are lowered at his waist, trying to show that he wasn’t a threat to you. It didn’t matter to him if you went with them — you were just a stranger after all — but he wouldn’t feel right letting you go without trying to save you. 

You hesitate, your eyes looking down at your feet while you contemplate. He remains quiet, the voices of his friends ringing in his ears while they communicate on their way back to the car. But finally, he saw something that confirmed he would take you back by force. 

Blood dripped down your leg and fingertips, seeping into your clothes, staining the floor. 

“I don’t want to die,” you confess, your voice small and scared. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“I promise you won’t be alone; you won’t die on my watch… but you’re hurt,” Shouto reasoned, his body instinctually moving closer to you. You pressed against the back of the wall, the aggression in your body long having died out. “We can heal you, and if you don’t feel safe you’re welcome to leave—” his eyes hold yours, and he swears the world stills at this moment, he can hear nothing but your hammering heart and his own, “I promise you.”

You would later claim that you gave in because you were injured and exhausted, but your hand reached out with a tremble and took his steady one. It was weird, feeling his hand in yours, so calloused and worn. Even if all you felt were his fingers, this was the first time in forever since you had human contact. Despite everything going on, the own swinging egos in your mind that screamed at you to kill him or to kiss him more, sudden ease came over you. You didn’t trust him, you couldn’t — you weren’t that big of an idiot — but his dual colored eyes held yours steadily, warmly, safely and the only thing you could do was agree with him. Despite being brought up on one principle, one defining law, you broke it when it came down to this stranger before you.

No matter what happens, never trust anyone.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto, by the way,” Shouto finally introduced himself, his words breaking the silence that had fallen over the both of you while he guided you out of the house. “I’m apart of a surviving group called Yuuei, and we’ve been around for about a hundred years.”

“Y/l/n y/n,” you return with a grimace.

When was the last time you ever had to introduce yourself before? You had no memories of the last time you had to tell someone your name. His face lifted into a gentle smile, one that you couldn’t see as anything but being polite before he turned and began walking. His strides were long but quick, far outpacing you despite the obvious worry to your bleeding wounds.

You had been attacked earlier by some dying taoreta, and even with its dying breath, it was otherworldly powerful. The person who had nearly managed to slay the taoreta had been decapitated when you had accidentally stumbled on the screeching monster. Its fingers were blades made from its bones, and it had stabbed you before you could even fight back. The taoreta had destroyed the machete you had used as your main weapon, the splintering metal being what ended up killing the savage monster.

A ragged breath escaped you in the realization that you had survived that.

There was no stopping the onslaught of tears and sobs that ripped through your throat while Shouto pulled you after him. The stabbing blistering pain in your side and arm was throbbing while you tried to keep up. You had survived, the pain an undeniable testament to that, the bat dragging against the floor a reminder that you weren’t done just yet. Shouto’s eyes grazed over you, and you were grateful he didn’t say anything while you continued to cry, emotions, and relief washing over you.

Shouto’s face remained neutral if a little bit uncomfortable while he dragged you back to the car, his voice low and quiet while he informed the rest of his group that he wasn’t coming back alone. 

Still, it was to no surprise that the moment Shouto stopped in front of the car four of the five others were on edge, looking down at his crying companion. 

Midoriya, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Iida stood on the trunk of the car, their weapons were drawn towards you; hesitation and concern heavy in their eyes. Bakugou, who was driving the car, couldn’t even be bothered to look at you — after all, he had already okayed you. Well, Shouto thought he had okayed you, he wasn’t exactly clear on things like that. Besides, it wasn’t as if they came across many survivors to okay in the first place.

“Who is this?” Iida asked first, his eyes unwavering while you rubbed streaks of blood onto your face. “Is she dangerous?”

“I wouldn’t have brought her back if she was,” Shouto lifted an eyebrow, unamused with the stiffness in all their postures. “We disagreed earlier, but she thought I was a taoreta at first glance, it’s all good now.”

“And she’s okay now? She’s bleeding like a fuckton,” Kaminari squeaked, his fingers thrusting out to your blood-soaked clothes.

Honestly, it surprised Shouto just how weird his group of friends were. They were all unbelievably strong, each possessing the ability to have already successfully killed one taoreta, yet they were cowering in fear over you.

“Does she come from a group? Is she being followed?” Kirishima cautiously asked, his eyes leaving your body to scour the surrounding buildings. “Is she sick?”

Shouto looked behind him, his eyes taking in your paling and sullen form, you looked terrible. 

Pressing his hand to your forehead, he felt your temperature with both his left and right side. 

“No fever, but she’s bleeding obviously. I’m not sure if she obtained any injuries from fighting Bakugou or me,” Shouto explained clearly, only being able to answer one of those questions for you. “I can’t say if there’s a group around — or if she’s with one, but she said she’s been alone for a year.” His calculating gaze met the stubborn stares of his friends who could only stare at you, and a rush of annoyance flooded him while he ran a hand through his hair. “We don’t have time to argue though, the suns setting and we need to get back to base.”

“Put this on her,” Midoriya was the first to pull back, something that did not come as a surprise to Shouto, and he threw a bandana he typically wore around his wrist at Shouto. “If she’s not being followed, at the very least we can prevent her from relaying how she got to base.”

Shouto nodded, moving quickly to tie the green fabric around your eyes and piling you onto the trunk. Midoriya moved into the car with your new addition and sat next to Bakugou who floored the pedal and took off into the mountain. 

UA truly was a blessing of a fort, not only was is incredibly huge, but it had natural barriers to act in their favor. And Shouto relaxed on the bed of the truck, his head pressing against the cold plastic, a hand resting on the items he had recovered for the day, and the other one still holding onto yours. 

He tried to ignore the way they continued to stare at you in distrust despite having all your weapons inside the car so that he could sleep, but eventually, he gave up. His eyes continuing to glare back at his friends until they dropped their gaze on you. He knew you weren’t a threat, and like hell he was going to let them treat you like one.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

When the bandana-blindfold came off your eyes, your hand in Shouto’s began to sweat profusely. Your wounds had stopped bleeding thanks to the green-haired boy’s ministrations, but you definitely felt lethargic from the loss of blood.

Blinking rapidly, you looked around, freezing when you saw that the group of six men had expanded to much larger numbers of only men. Breeding cult, your mind hissed and you felt your hands twitch, a nervous thought to grab the weapons you no longer had.

“You’re scaring her!” a voice yelled, and your head snapped towards a voice you couldn’t see. “Who wants to wake up to a sea of scraggly, ugly men?”

Your jaw slacked when you saw a pink-skinned woman shove her way through the crowd to stand before you. No way in hell was she not a taoreta!

“Hi! My name is Ashido Mina, and I know what you’re thinking,” she spoke, her arms crossing against her chest while a prideful smirk spread across her face. “How is she so hot?”

Maybe if it had been a day where you weren’t half dead, lacking a needed amount of blood, and much more in control of your emotions, you wouldn’t have burst out in laughter. Your dirty fingers pressed onto your mouth while you tried to play off your peals of laughter to no success.

“Oh, I like this one already,” Mina grinned, her hands pressing onto the edge of the truck to look at you closer. “However, my skin is pink because of a dying accident gone wrong when I was a child. It was as permanent as permanent can get so… please don’t think I’m a taoreta!”

You nodded your head, your body wincing with the stabbing pain, and Shouto was quick to notice that you were still in pain.

“Mina, can we walk and talk?” Shouto asked, his hand pressing to your spine in order to get you to start moving, even without permission to do so. “Y/l/n has three wounds that need to be tended to; she already lost a lot of blood. You can do your welcoming thing and interrogation while she gets patched up by Shuzenji.”

Mina pouted; a sound of discontent with the arising situation, but she nodded. Shouto’s lips pressed into a thin-lipped smile, and with Mina’s help, they guided you off the car and onwards towards the infirmary.

“I’m not going to be killed, am I?” you ask, knowing it was far too late for your cold feet to be kicking in. “I never thought I’d be killed by humans.”

“God, no! Shuzenji is the best medic in the world, hands down. She’s gonna patch ya up, and I’ll talk with you while she does that, and then we’ll find out our best course of action afterward!” Mina exclaimed, her hand repositioning your weak arm around her shoulder. “I swear it won’t be that hard!”

True to her word, you were not killed.

In fact, the only scary thing you were met with was an angry, just woken up from her slumber, elder woman. After she had yelled at the crowd of men who had followed after you to leave you alone given that you were her patient, she had taken you inside with Mina. But you had panicked when she tried to get Shouto to step away, your hand which had not separated from his since the moment you had left the house unwilling to let go of him. So, he was permitted to stay.

You sat on an old infirmary bed, your pinky still touching Shouto’s while Shuzenji — nicknamed Recovery Girl by the surviving group — tended to your wounds. You answered a whole lot of questions from Mina while trying not to let your pain bleed into your voice.

You told them your birthday, your age, the last time you were sick, how long you’ve been alone (you couldn’t say why you were alone), and how you got those injuries of yours. 

They had been impressed with your confession that it was from killing a taoreta, even a critically injured one was monstrously powerful after all, and Shouto would argue the ones on the brink of death were stronger than when fully healed. Mina, however, was a great conversationalist and did exceptionally well at making you feel comfortable despite everything. 

They took your height, weight, blood type, and hell, Recovery Girl even tested your blood for infections you might have not known you had. She was a medical genius — a true benefit to being in this base. Despite her previous anger, she ended up being a very sweet woman, caring and charming while she fixed you up — cleaning and bandaging your wounds before leaving by giving you a homemade sweet and an orange to eat.

“Alrighty, y/n-chan,” Mina chirped, her hands pulling out a clipboard which seemed to come out from nowhere while she scribbled things down with a series of successive nods. “You have checked out perfectly in our first-day system, of course for you to be implemented in our system — should you want to do that — there will be voting on Thursday! Well, tomorrow really! In the meantime for tonight we would have to find you somewhere to sleep…” her voice trailed off while she contemplated your options. You continued to stare up at her with unknowing confused eyes, trying your best to keep the storming anxiety in your stomach at bay. “We have a few rooms that are open, but… no offense we can’t trust you yet, so we’ll have to put you somewhere with someone. I can ask Tsuyu?”

“She can stay with me,” Shouto spoke, his face expressionless, but his eyes soft. “I have one of the biggest rooms; it’s not that big a deal.”

Your anxiety lessened while you looked over at Shouto, unable to keep yourself from staring at him. Mina had no objections to this, a grateful smile falling over her features while she nodded, “Okay! I’ll send up a clean change of clothes if you need any? I have quite a lot.”

“That would be appreciated, thank you.”

“If she showers, you won’t be able to tonight. Mei destroyed a pipe by accident while trying to create a useable water source — it worked for two hours before breaking, so I think Yuuei will have constant running water by Momo’s birthday!” Mina chirped, her hands pressing the clipboard to her stomach. “But you’re good to go! Please still be mindful of any diseases though, just because you were cleared of the basic ones doesn’t mean you’re clean.”

You nodded watching as she too left you alone with Shouto. 

“My room is on the fourteenth floor, do you think you can handle walking up that many flights of stairs?” Shouto asked, his hand steadying you while you slid onto your feet. 

Despite everything, you were already feeling better. Your head while feeling a bit light was nothing compared to the groggy headache you had once had. 

“I might need some help, but I think… I think, for now, I should be okay,” you inform Shouto, and he nods in understanding.

So the two of you in a weird silence, eventually made your way up to his floor, your body shaking by the time you walked onto the floor, but your hand never leaving his. He showed you the room the two of you would be in, and true to his word, it was large. There were two tatami mats, one by a window, and the other by the door. Random items littered the walls and the floors, most of which were toys and things to pass time with, but it was so unnaturally domestic to you, you didn’t know how to react. It was now that he let go of your hand altogether (an action that made you realize just how touch-deprived you’d been), leaving you to take in the state of his room while he walked around.

“You… you don’t have to give up your shower for me,” you spoke while watching Shouto rummage through his things, procuring a dry and clean towel for you. “I haven’t showered in some time, and I don’t want to make you be in your dirt for longer than needed.”

Shouto looked at you, his head tilting slightly before he shook his head. He walked over to you with his shower things, handing over the shampoo, conditioner, and soap. “You need to clean up because you have wounds, I’m fine. Besides… you stink more than me anyway.”

The truth to his words made your cheeks burn, but there was no judgment in his eyes while he leaned against the wall. You stood there by him unable to think of anything to say until Mina’s fist knocked against the opened door.

“Here are your clothes! Some PJs and extra clothes! I didn’t know if you had any extra clean clothes or your size but with your measurements, I took a wild guess. I hope they fit! I took the liberty of bringing you what I could spare!”

“There are way more clothes than that,” Shouto commented, his eyes judging the pink-skinned girl.

“Sorry that I’m assigned to clothes and have to follow code!” Mina huffed, her cheeks brightening with embarrassment before she stuck out her tongue and ran away leaving both of you alone once again. With the clean set of clothes and the ability to finally fo what you must, you asked where the shower was, and Shouto brought you to where the shower was located on the floor.

You hated to admit it, but you were sincerely grateful he let you shower. Your fingers worked out the many day’s old dirt from your hair, the soap sudding against your skin while you scrubbed weeks old layers from your skin until it throbbed in its rawness. You left the shower with a wince from your now healing wounds, but feeling a sense of freshness you hadn’t known in a while. 

The PJs you were given were just a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, something you were grateful for, especially as the material was soft and warm against your cold skin. When you pushed into the room, you noticed that Shouto was sitting on the mat nearest to the door — leaving you with the one by the window. 

A small lamp was by Shouto, and you couldn’t tell what he was writing while you piled onto your tatami, your fingers immediately grabbing the blankets that sat at the end of the mat before pulling it over your body. You stared at Shouto in silence, unable to simply fall asleep, your thoughts much too fascinated with him. Why had he done this all? You had attacked him and his friend; yet here he was, doing much more than what you could have ever asked from him.

“Will I fit in?” you ask quietly, your eyes concentrating up onto the ceiling. “Will I be voted out?”

There was a prolonged silence, a bit too long for your own liking while serious doubts threaded into your pool of anxiety.

“You’ll fit in,” Shouto spoke, his words clear and confident. “I promised you’d be okay, didn’t I?”

Your head nods, although you are unsure whether or not he saw you doing so.

“So it’s always perfect in here? There isn’t… there isn’t any dangerous taoreta lurking around, is there?”

“No,” Shouto softly says, and you turn your head, your wet hair pressing onto your cheek while watching as he puts a journal down. “To both questions. We’re human, drama and issues always arise, but things always end up okay. UA is also on a mountain surrounded by woods, most taoreta don’t bother making their way up here, especially since we have traps up. But dangerous ones tend to appear during rainy days — especially during winter.”

“Why’s that?” you ask in a small, small voice. It was fall right now after all.

Shouto met your gaze, his eyes swimming with emotions you couldn’t read, but thoughts that screamed that he was unsure whether he should tell you. Was there a reason to make you worry right now?

“During the winter we don’t have any protection. We have Gladiolus flowers planted all around the mountain just to keep taoreta away, and while they die during the fall, they’re still not decayed entirely so… they’re still useful. We can only use Gladiolus oil on the barrier of UA during the winter, meaning that taoreta can climb the hill and find us if they’re lucky enough. But when it rains, the oils washed off, and with the Gladiolus all dead, we’re exposed.” he explains to you in earnest and you nod numbly, your heart already hammering away. 

You wished you had known that months ago…

“You okay?”

The tears in your eyes refused to stop falling down your face while horror consumed your bones. One year alone, countless nights spent in fear that someone would discover you while you were asleep, and hatred for the world burned in every cell of your body pouring over as bitter, useless tears while you gasped for air. 

“W-Will you… can you hold my hand?” you gasped, your body burning in your embarrassment and fear. “I can’t stop thinking that I’m… am I safe?”

You couldn’t see anything, the tears in your eyes blinding you completely. 

It had been such a hard, difficult, death-defying day and you were finally processing it all. 

A hand held onto yours mid muffled sob, and comfort washed over you slightly but not enough.

You would fall asleep shortly afterward, your body rattled with your hiccuping sobs, and your face puffy and swollen from your tears. Shouto could only stare at your slumbering form, the tension, and anxiety heavy on your face despite passing on to the land of dreams. With a soft ache in his heart for you, he turned off the light, his hand still in yours, his tatami mat pressed next to yours.

And as sleep consumed him too, his journal which was the most unique entry he’s written since his adolescence rang clearly in his head:

September 20, 2XX1

It’s been eight years since everyone died, and another day spent working. Today was different, something new happened today. I found a survivor who tried to kill me, her name is y/l/n y/n. I don’t know much about her, but she’s different. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I hope she’ll be happy.

Signed, Todoroki Shouto

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It was Momo’s birthday today. 

It was also the fourth day since you had entered the base, and with your entrance, things had become different around UA. During the first morning, people had hung on your every word, blatantly fascinated with you even if they were a bit apprehensive. The council also allowed you to stay, which had left you an emotional mess.

With you being new and injured, it was proclaimed that you could have a week to rest and adjust to the society found within the barriers of the old school. You were to be placed with the janitors the moment your allowed rest was over. You were given clothes, plates and utensils, and bathroom items, all of which you took with a watery smile.

As for your living situation, you were to stay with Shouto until he thought it was best that you left. It wasn’t something you were against at all — right now he was the only person you sincerely trusted and got along with. Shouto also did not mind, in fact he rather enjoyed having someone else fill the emptiness of his room.

Overall, it was going well, but the most important thing was happening today.

You would be put into a group of Shouto’s closest and best friends. 

He had briefly explained to you who they all were because you had asked the night before, your stomach twisting in thought that maybe they wouldn’t like you. 

But with Momo turning twenty, Shouto immediately warned you the type of party it was going to be. With the mass majority of their friends being seekers and therefore getting to claim first dibs on items, alcohol and weed were going to be used. 

So there you stood three hours into a pretty fun party, your nose twitching at the nasty but sweet smell of marijuana and the bittersweet smell of alcohol on all of their breaths. You stood by the group of girls watching as Momo bashfully chugged a bottle of wine with the dignity of an extremely classy person and not the trashiness that was actually true of this all.

Your hand waved in front of you, once again denying the joint that was being passed around and the bottle of liquor trying to be handed to you. Recovery Girl had appeared before you earlier today while you were exploring the campus only to warn you what would happen should you participate in these actions while healing still. To say the least you wouldn’t even tempt the idea.

“So how is Mr. Todoroki?” Mina asked, her arm slumping over your shoulder while she chugged her bottle of who knows what. “Didya know he was the only one no one could ever get to date!?”

Your brows furrowed while you continued to try to find Shouto yourself. He had sort of left you alone and your anxiety always bayed with him in sight. 

“We all dated around the circle of friends,” a girl with the palest skin you’ve ever seen before — Hagakure — explained. “The only one none of us could crack was Todoroki-kun, which lemme tell you seemed much more possible than Bakugou!”

You recognized and was able to put a face to the name Bakugou, but that information didn’t really surprise you. In your old group, it wasn’t that much different. There wasn’t anything to help you meet anyone, and so dating was something you did with everyone in your age group. But Shouto seemed very sweet, a genuinely good person that had you unbelieving of him never having dated.

“He’s still never had his first kiss!” Uraraka, a girl with a permanent blush on her face even without liquor in her blood, slurred with a wink. “Most girls just make him so nervous.”

Never… he’s never had his first kiss?! You took his first kiss?!

“Fucking shit!” you exclaimed, your hands pressing to your cheeks while you shook your head, your heart hammering away while you stepped away from the group of girls whose attention was captured by a frog impersonation by Tsuyu.

Shame and guilt sat heavy in your stomach and you walked away, the memory of you first meeting with Shouto replaying over and over in your head. You wanted to go sleep now, your heart hammering in your cheeks in past embarrassment for your actions. It had just been so long since you had seen a friendly face, and you had gotten overexcited. 

Shouto, who had been slowly sipping from his cup of sake, saw your retreating form and instantly downed the rest of his sweet liquor. He had been pleased you had gotten along with his group of friends, most especially the girls. Through the past four days he had tried to introduce you to them all so that this party wouldn’t overwhelm you, and seeing that you had managed to stay in a conversation with them without him being there seemed like a positive improvement to him. 

That is until you turned on your heel and walked away from the group, your eyes glass, and your steps quick. 

He followed you out of the gym which is where they had all been in, his hands shoving into his pockets while he waited for you to turn around. But it seemed that you were deep in thought because you didn’t even seem to detect his presence. So, he opened his mouth, his lips quirking upward in amusement. 

“Are you going back to the room?”

“Shit!” you jumped, your eyes wide and nearly crazed while you turned towards him, but a wave of regret his your face and Shouto knew you overexerted your injury. “Sorry, Shouto, I didn’t see… I didn’t hear you there.”

“Are you going back to the room?” he asked again, his head tilting in curiosity.

You nodded your head, your smile soft, “I was really tired, and I didn’t want to drag you away from your friend’s party. Don’t worry about me, you can stay, I’ll be fine!”

Shouto shook his head, moving so that he was standing right next to you, “It’s getting late and I’m seeking tomorrow. I have to rest, can’t do my job correctly while fighting a hangover.”

“It would really suck to know that you died on the job, I can’t imagine what I would do with all that space you would leave for me,” you tease, your smile small while he rolls his eyes. 

“We’ve known each other four days and you’re already trying to kill me off? That’s a bit cruel, isn’t it?” Shouto asks, his hand sticking out for you to hold on to should you want to, and you do without question. It was a habit the both of you had quickly formed within four days, but it wasn’t going to die anytime soon, not with the night terrors you had at least.

“It’s the perks of being my friend,” you insist, your head nodding in finality, and Shouto begins to walk. You follow him swiftly and surely, but the same thoughts that plagued your mind began to resurface in your temporary silence. “Was I your first kiss?”

Shouto looked down at you, his eyes unable to be read by you, but the slight perk in his mouth let you know that he was amused and not offended.

“Why do you want to know?”

You sigh, your thoughts falling onto the giggling group of girls before.

“Well, your friends said you were the only one who never…”

“Yes?”

“Never took their advances, and they all said they haven’t kissed you before!”

Shouto opens the door to the building, letting you in. “You were my first kiss.”

You shudder, the horror of a story that would be with him for the rest of his life. An injured lunatic laying one on him without a second thought. 

“Why was I your first kiss?” you ask, unsure as to why you were so curious about needing this information from Shouto.

“Because I never dated anyone before,” Shouto simply stated, his hands holding yours gently while you climbed the stairs that still winded you by the tenth flight. 

“But why?” you find yourself pestering for more, your thoughts unable to figure out why he wouldn’t. There was no denying that he was incredibly handsome, stupidly so — even you had to admit that from the first glance you had of him. The girls also saw that — it was very obvious, so what was missing?

He was silent for some time, and it was something that you had already grown used to. His pauses happened when he didn’t have a clear thought, and while it didn’t happen often, it was enough for you to have already picked up on. 

“During my school years I was more focused on other things,” Shouto confessed, pausing on a stair to allow you to gain your breath. “Something happened with my family and it took a lot of my time and energy away.”

While you knew that his family wasn’t in the picture anymore, you had no idea what had happened to them. You contemplated asking about it or not, your teeth tearing into your bottom lip while he stared down at you. The question was evident on your face though, most definitely screaming on top of your lungs despite you not uttering a single word.

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet, sorry,” Shouto confessed, and you nodded your head, you understood the feeling.

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you about my story too, one day we’ll both be ready, right?” you asked, your feet already making its way up the staircase even before he did. 

Shouto smiled just the tiniest bit broken, and he nodded his head, continuing up the stairs after you with a sense of relief rushing through him 

“Of course.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Oh my god, it’s freezing.”

“I told you it was going to be cold, its November!”

You pressed the winter coat to your body even tighter, somehow you wanted the threads to become even closer than a second skin. 

It had been two months since you had managed to find yourself in the same area as Todoroki Shouto, and so far, not a single day went by where you regretted it. Hell, even the wounds on your body had become purpling scars and eventually disappeared altogether. In two months the two of you had become quick and strikingly close friends, the both of you naturally growing closer due to sharing and living in the same quarters.  

All in all the relationship sprouted between the two of you was genuine and different from other relationships in the base. 

While most of each other’s past was still relatively unknown, both of your abilities to open up about what had happened in the past faulty and fell flat more often than not. It was honestly weird just how unable you both were able to talk about your past: the mile-long stare in your eyes, the tears, the anxiety-ridden dreams. Shouto had no idea that he still screamed for his family at night before you moved in, and you had no doubt that you would wake up shrieking.

Of course, these terrors had subsided by a landslide the second you both decided to try something new out: holding hands at night had become sleeping side by side. It was definitely a weird new inclusion by both of your standards. Most mornings you woke up utterly tangled in each other’s limbs, the person who woke up first being the one in charge of detangling and denying that they had become that entangled. But hey, that’s sort of what happened when both he and you were desperately trying to deny the softly burning embers of a beginning relationship. 

But how could you begin to forget that you had been integrated into the Yuuei community very quickly, and nicely at that? After Momo’s birthday, you managed to earn a spot in the girl group, most meals having them coming to find you and sit with you. That was something you appreciated especially on the days that Shouto wasn’t on base.  Even the guys who had once been wary of you entering their car had accepted you wholeheartedly. Although you hated being a janitor, you had to admit it was the only job you were capable of handling at the time. 

You weren’t handy with machines to be an engineer, the only first aid you knew wasn’t even good enough to land you as medical assistance, your education wasn’t anywhere near as thorough as the one implemented here, and your cooking skills were subpar. In all actuality, you longed to be a seeker, but the outdoors were still something you weren’t ready for. 

Shouto and you had learned that old habits died hard, and well, until you were ready to be a team player and no longer thought about your survival and your survival only, you would remain in your janitor position.

But you found yourself climbing onto the rooftop floor with Shouto for one reason and one reason only. 

Despite his lavish education growing up, he had stupidly asked you what the hell a constellation was.

While you hadn’t known that there was a difference between a meteoroid and an asteroid, you were pleasantly surprised and leagues excited at finally being an expert on something that he wasn’t. Stars and constellations had been your only guides and stories for quite a while after all. 

But with Shouto’s judgmental eyes on you, and the shifting of your weight to keep warm, you tilted your head back to look up at the painted night sky. 

“Not all of us are abnormally super-weirdo hot all the time,” you accused, the fur lining of the jacket pressing onto your cold lips. The jacket had been a gift from Shouto, a clothing item that had somehow survived being eaten by moths that he had presented to you on your first month anniversary of being on UA.

“That just sounds like you’re jealous,” Shouto countered, his body moving to stand next to yours. He was in a light sweater and regular clothes, you had no idea how he wasn’t cold at this point. But you chose to ignore it, your lips pouting while the both of you sank to the ground, the soft blanket beneath you doing little to cushion your head against the concrete roof. “So… which constellations are in the sky right now?”

“Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Cepheus, Cetus, Hydrus, Phoenix, Pisces, Sculptor, and Tucana,” you listed without a hitch, the names meaning nothing to Shouto but didn’t stop the impressed look on his face. 

“Do they had stories behind them?” he asked, his warm breath misting in the air while you adjusted closer to his left side, your frozen hand held tightly by his warm one. He shifted his gaze back down to you, his eyes focused on your wandering ones that drank in the beautiful night sky. 

“Only the best stories,” you grinned, your attention shifting over to Shouto while a glint sparked in your eye. “They’re a bit western and a lot of years old if you want to hear them?”

Shouto nodded his head. There wasn’t anything more than he would like to do except be by your side and just listen to you talk and talk, especially if that meant you would forget what you were saying or your instructional material would become a sidetracked rant that he would listen to with clear fascination and teasing intrigue. 

“Okay, I guess I’ll start with Andromeda!” you nodded your head, your finger thrusting towards the masses of stars that Shouto had no ability to piece together to become the young woman who was sacrificed to the Cetus. 

Still, he pretended he could see the constellation because you wouldn’t begin any tale without making sure he could point them out. But there was no denying that he was baffled and in love with every part of your stories. It really wasn’t the fact that the stories were interesting to him, as a matter of fact, Shouto was rather bored with the dramatic Greecian tales for the constellations in the sky, but it was you that made it interesting. 

Even with your hand in his, your arms threw around animatedly as part of your dramatic reenactment of these tales and myths. Your passions being felt without mistake while you taught Shouto about the night sky. 

No matter how passionate you were about teaching Shouto about the constellations, the cold won out, in the end, sending the both of you back into the room before you could explain the story you knew about Tucana. 

“Did you learn anything new tonight?” you asked, your body curled up into the blankets of your tatami, waiting for Shouto to finish his journal to come and provide you extra warmth.

“I guess I did,” Shouto confirmed, his head nodding while he continued to scribble down his thoughts. But there was something to his tone that you found suspicious, your eyebrows narrowing when you saw the slight crease in his cheeks from the smile on his face. 

“Why you smiling like that for!” you whine, your cocooned legs thrashing in your childish tantrum. “Was there something on my face the entire time?”

“There was something on your face the entire time, but it wasn’t anything embarrassing,” Shouto promised, his hands gathering his journal, light, and pencil and putting them aside before coming to lay beside you, his body pressed behind yours, his warmth already sinking through your blankets.

“That’s what you said when I had a sticker on my forehead for an entire day,” you pout, your eyes already feeling heavy with his warmth pressed against you.  

“You were cute,” he admitted, his voice that was heavy with exhaustion tickling the exposed skin of your neck. He closed his eyes, allowing for sleep to consume him while he uttered his last words of the day. “I don’t care for stars and such… but if you’re gonna do stuff like that… who knows, maybe I’ll grow to love them.”

His words sank a hot stone in your stomach, and the goosebumps and butterflies that raised against your entire body refused to subside until you finally managed to fall asleep yourself, one final thought passing through your swollen bitten lips. “You can’t just stuff like that and expect me to not have feelings...”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

March was the first month of spring, and while you had survived a full winter without a taoreta attack at UA there was no denying that you felt like you had gotten away easy. The uneasy feeling in your stomach was heightened today before Shouto had left for his typical job as a seeker. You had barely managed to wake up that morning to see him off, but the moment he had left, you were unable to stay asleep, a pit of worry growing cancerously in your stomach.

You spent the rest of your morning tidying up the room, cleaning and organizing the “chaos” of the room because there wasn’t anything better you could do until on your day off. 

As a matter of fact, you went on to join Mina at her checkout position today. The pink-skinned girl had recently begun to wear a horned headband which really pulled together the taoreta vibe she already gave off, but she was nice to distract yourself with while a haunted feeling gloomed over you the entire day. She had talked through your fear, pinning your anxiety on your recently admitted to affections towards Shouto and noot wanting him to be injured while on his job. You had agreed it was most likely that but even as the day continued you couldn’t tear your gaze from the entrance. 

But as Mina was cleaning off a weapon that had been used yesterday she froze.

You looked up at her, your eyes studying the way that her hand pressed into the radio that was placed in her ear, relaying a message you only wished you could hear.

“How far away?!” Mina yelled into the system, her body moving to grab another radio set. “How many were hurt?!”

Just like that, a nausea heavy anxiety rocketed through your body, your limbs trembling while Mina seemed to keep her own panic under control.

“Medics,” MIna yelled into the com system, her voice projecting all over the school grounds. “Come in medics, this is Mina. Report to the main gates immediately. We have an incoming group of four hurt seekers from a taoreta attack. I repeat we have an incoming group of four hurt seekers. Three are minimal, one is critical. Ready blood type O immediately.”

Your skin crawled at that information, Shouto was the only one with blood type O going out today.

He wasn’t the critically hurt one, you thought, watching as a crowd of medics rushed to the gate, no doubt readying to take the critical patient to Recovery Girl the moment the car crashed through campus. But as the car you knew as the same one that brought you here slammed to a stop by the entrance, nausea hit you when you saw that it was Kirishima and Iida who were driving.

Three slightly bleeding friends of yours were pulled from the truck and you felt the world go silent when none of them were Shouto. The screams and shouts of medical instructions went unheard by you when you saw Shouto’s bloody, torn up body being transported onto a gurney, a bloodline immediately hooked as they ran away.

You couldn’t hear anything or see anything but the sunken dip in Shouto’s cheeks.

Was he going to live?

You weren’t even aware of your own hyperventilation until Mina shoved you onto the floor, her golden-yellow eyes wide with worry and distress for you, but her words remained deaf on your ears, unable to pierce the stress ringing in your ears.

Was he going to leave you too?

~

Shouto’s eyelids felt heavier than lead when he finally woke up.

The bright white light of the hospital room almost blinding him while he groaned. What had happened?

A fuzzy memory of running into a taoreta with savage storm powers replayed in his head. He had almost sacrificed himself to save the group, the damn monster had the strength of Hercules and slashing wind that he cut Shouto up on numerous occasions. He had sworn he had gone under multiple times, but each time it felt like there was something stopping him, keeping him from leaving.

He wouldn’t have minded leaving, there wasn’t much here, to begin with. At least not after the demise of his entire family. 

“So you’re finally away, Todoroki,” a gentle withered voice intercepted his thoughts, and Shouto turned his head with a pained grimace to see Recovery Girl checking his vitals. “I’m glad to see that you’re conscious of whats going on. You’ve woken up multiple times already but would seize before passing out.”

“Am I... am I alive?” Shouto asked, his tongue feeling like sandpaper in his mouth.

A folder of papers crashed against his already throbbing head, and Shouto cursed while Recovery Girl fumed. “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m kicking the bucket any time soon!”

Despite the pain, Shouto smiled softly, his head nodding in understanding.

“Besides, if you died I would have personally prayed for your soul because it looked like y/n-chan would have appeared on death’s door herself to bring you back,” she mused, her gloved finger pointing at your passed out figure on the other side of the bed. 

Shouto’s eyes widened at the sight of you, something warm curling in his stomach seeing you there. But he frowned at the way your face was exhausted and thinner from the last time he had seen you.

“How long was I—?”

“A bit longer than two weeks.”

Holy shit that was a long time.

“We almost lost you a few times, but for some reason you always did better when she was holding your hand… it’s weird, but it worked — saved your life even. You owe that girl a big thank you, she’s done a lot.”

Shouto nodded numbly, his mind moving faster than he cared for while Recovery Girl finished her tendings to him before eventually leaving him alone. He had done better when you held his hand…

He looked down at his wrapped arms, now beyond grateful that they had been stockpiled on medical supplies because had they not they would have most likely decided saving him was a waste of resources. His hand moved to rest on your propped elbow, but the moment he touched your skin, your head popped up.

Shouto stared at you, and you stared back.

Bloodshot exhausted eyes meeting sullen ones, and Shouto barely had time to smile before tears sprung into your eyes.

“You almost died,” came a bitter hello, and it shocked Shouto. He hadn’t expected such a cold greeting from you. “Y-You promised you wouldn’t get hurt on these expeditions.”

You knew promises like that one were childish — it was a promise that couldn’t be kept in this society, but it was one he had still made to me.

“I promised I wouldn’t die,” Shouto countered, his hands pulling to rest on his lap, knowing that having contact with you was probably what wasn’t needed at the moment. “I didn’t, by the way.”

“You died three times while they were saving you!” you spat, angry heavy tears rolling down your cheeks. “You died and all I could do was watch! You l-lied!”

Shouto wasn’t sure how to react, on one hand he wanted to snap back at you, his own frustrations at you just not being happy to see him awake and functional made him upset because he was beyond relieved to see you here, but on the other hand, he wondered why you were so shaken at this “lie.”

“Why does it matter if I lied?” Shouto whispered, his attempt to keep his voice from showing any signs of anger passing. “It wasn’t something I did out of self-sacrifice, but because it’s what the group needed.”

You remained silent, your nostrils flaring with your uncovered emotions and thoughts, but Shouto wanted to know your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings. Despite the lengths the both of you had made in understanding each other, there was still so much hidden from both of your pasts, the thought of hurting so much more when being honest about them prohibiting the both of you from sharing.

“Y/n… come one, speak to me…”

“My parents said the exact same thing before they died,” you spoke with emotions tight in your throat. Your tongue passed your lips in an anxious matter, and you shook your head. “My group was murdered by taoreta a year before you met me. I had been sick at the time… the flu had gotten to me, so I was always left alone at our base while they all went out hunting. It was my family and twenty others… I had… I had a bad feeling the morning they died, but no one believed me because I was sick. I made them promise they’d come back alive, and they did! But while they always returned a bit after dusk, no one ever showed up.” Shouto’s stomach curled, already guessing the rest of your story, but there was no need to guess, you were finishing the tale that still haunted your life. “The next morning I was essentially fine, so I packed up my things and went to search for them. My group always left a rock trail to get back… I was going to follow the trail to find them. And I did find them… but… they were all dead. I saw my mom's torso here, my dad's head there. I couldn’t even recognize anyone's bodies, but the smell… I still smell it at night sometimes… rotting flesh and the whimpers of one of my friends who was still dying when I got there!”

The tears on your cheeks rolled down unashamedly, but your body shook with emotions, your breathing shallow and sparse, most definitely not intaking the needed amount of oxygen you needed. But with this insight, so many things made sense to Shouto. Weird personality traits of yours for the first time having reason for their rhyme. 

“I don’t want to be told you’ll be okay and find you dead one day… you were dead and I thought… it felt like I was back there again! I haven’t been there since January and… god, Shouto, I can’t have you dying like that!”

His heart hurt for you, and his eyes found yours again.

“I lost my family eight years ago,” Shouto confessed, his hand stretching out for you to take, and he relaxed when you accepted his offer. “My father and oldest brother had found a group of survivors who were harboring a taoreta who was only twenty-four at the time. We didn’t know they were a taoreta, and we didn’t know that they were turning twenty-five the next day. My family brought them back to base and took them into our room because we had the largest one. I was with… I was with Midoriya, Bakugou, and Kirishima that day, the four of us had decided that we were going to camp out on the track… I didn’t get to even say goodbye to anyone. The next morning there was an explosion in the cafeteria and my family along with the surviving group and taoreta had been killed. It was… horrible… and even though it was years ago, I still feel like it was yesterday. It could have been me there with them — and I felt… I felt like for the longest time that I should have died with them…”

“Shouto,” you whispered, your tears no longer angry but so sad for the man you had fallen for. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Shouto smiled painfully, his shoulders shrugging while he exhaled, tears trailing down his face while a weird sense of relief washed over him. “It’s okay. It’s hard and all, but it’s comforting to know that I wasn’t the only one fucked over by a taoreta.”

Your eyes softened and a snort left your nose while you shook your head, “I think we’ve all been fucked over by them, wouldn’t you agree?”

There was an agreeing noise that passed Shouto’s lips that died as quickly as it had started when your lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, not quite a kiss, but close enough to a kiss that had skyrocketed his heart rate.

“I’m glad you’re still alive though, Shouto,” you whisper, pulling away from him, your lips forever imprinted onto his skin. “I don’t think I would be able to live in that big old room all by myself.”

Shouto cleared his throat, his eyes glinting everso mischievously, “I definitely would had stuck around to haunt you.”

He wouldn’t confess to it at this moment, but his heart definitely skipped a beat at the sight of your glowing smile, and the laugh that escaped your lips.

“I’m sure you would’ve.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It was raining.

The chaos of the outside world had once again found its way into Yuuei’s safezone, and everything was going to shit. You had woken up to the sound of rain, your body curled onto Shouto’s and your mind not thinking much of the pittering rain that fell from the sky. You were content in his warm embrace, just grateful to have more time with the sleeping man. It had taken him five months to fully recover from his attack, and he had just recently resumed his job as a seeker two months ago. 

Right now it was December, it had been past a full year since your arrival here, and you definitely were content here.

Your relationship with Shouto has definitely become… muddied in the past few months. Kisses had been exchanged on multiple occasions, the both of you practically acting like a couple despite not having coined your relationship. Despite the both of you coming clean with your past, there was still hesitation to make things official, with both of you not wanting to hear that either one of you had died (you had become a seeker during his time of recovery just so you could get him more shower times, plus you missed scavenging in the outdoors). Secret kisses were exchanged between you like blackmarket deals, but still the hesitant riding heavy in both your bones prevented anything from happening.

But that was okay for now, as long as you were the only one Todoroki Shouto was kissing, you were okay with that. Burying your nose into his chest, you allowed for sleep to consume you into its clutches. Today was both your days off after all.

Seconds before sleep could reclaim you, a long three part bell was heard that instantly had both you and Shouto rocketing upward. A long bell was a part of the warning system, and each part meant something.

One long ring was a storm.

Two long rings was a group of survivors.

Three long rings was a taoreta.

Both you and Shouto scurried to your feet, throwing on the first set of clothes you could find, and desperately putting on your shoes while your heart hammered. You hadn’t fought a taoreta since the year before, and with the explosion outside you could only begin to imagine what this was going to mean for you all. 

“Y/n!” Shouto called for you while you pulled on your jacket. You looked at him, your hands mid-pulling your hair out of your face. “Come back alive.”

You didn’t say anything, his clothes and shoes already on; ready to go out and fight. But in a kiss akin to that of your first one, he pressed his lips against yours in a heated, fervor passion. An action that spoke of desperation between two lovers who longed to see the next day, and you heard it loud and clear.

Survive.

It was an order, it was a promise.

He left before you, and you soon followed after. The weight of the future falling heavily on your shoulders, but a personal fury to survive pushing you through.

It was a long and a hard battle. 

The taoreta had blade wings and mowed down everything in its path. Bodies littered the floor around you, your body in pain and sore while the taoreta lay twitching on the roof of one of the pillars of the campus building. In what was considered to be a lucky shot, you had managed to pierce a major artery of the taoreta with a gun you had taken from a fallen member and he was now bleeding out.

There were multiple cuts all over your body, the slices from the knives doing nothing but harm to your body while you collapsed on the roof, your breathing heavy and your body exhausted underneath the pittering rain. You overlooked the tower, down at the people below and gave a thumbs up, signaling he was dead.

A silent scream of victory came from the surviving members of Yuuei, no one able to actual muster a sound of victory because defeat still stung with every bleeding cut on their bodies. But this wasn’t your job anymore, a successive three short rings alerted the medics that it was their turn to work, and you hobbled down from the roof back to your room.

Your hair was plastered to your face, bloodied water dripping after you while you returned to the room, and you stood at the door unable to walk in until you saw Shouto.

It felt like you were standing there forever, your eyes focusing on the stairway in hopes of seeing the red and white haired boy emerge from a lower floor to you. And finally, finally he appeared. 

There was a cut on his face, a bandaid on his chest, and you realized that he had been treated before coming up. He stared at you from the distance, both your bodies frozen with adrenaline induced joy.

But it was over just as fast, Shouto ran towards you, and there was nothing for you to do except leap into his arms, and press your lips against his. Shouto’s words of gratitude for seeing you alive were stolen from his tongue for you had reached upward in this desperate, frantic glee and kissed him firmly on the lips. His tongue curled and moved against yours, his hands moving frantically against your back in this desperate, longing kiss that exploded fire onto his cheeks and loins. But unlike the first kiss ever exchanged between the two of you he was able to move. He was able to feel the wet streaks from your cheeks pressed onto his, focusing on the heavy frantic breathing that passed through your nose while he entered the room, the door slamming closed behind him.

His lips are passionate against yours, your jaw drops and your mind spins from the intensity he was returning into the kiss. Your gasping moans stir him on as his hands grasp your ass without fear, your body melting into his grasp while he continues to strive ahead, and your hips in their glee of both being alive and knowing what is happening ground against his crotch. Your breathing is uneven, your feelings and nerves overload as you put in the same amount of intensive passion into the kiss.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, allowing for your tongue to invade into his mouth while your hands manage to pull his shirt from his body, throwing it who knows where. 

A low mewl escapes your mouth when your fingers trail down his rippling muscles, the curves of his muscles and the scars on his body making you shake with anticipation. While you busied yourself with memorizing his body with your hands, his hands trail down your legs, softly trailing the underside of your thighs. The sensation of his hot fingers against the wet jeans sent shivers down your spine as your hips swivel against his, a desperate attempt to feel more from him. You hummed in increasing excitement when he cursed your name, the growing bulge in his pants making you sing to the heavens.

Tongues once more crash in the middle, neither one of you entirely dominating the other in this passionate affair. Moans escape your mouth as he lowers to the ground, pressing your back against the tatami. Your fingers fisted into his hair, his hips grinding down into your heated, desperate core. Synchronized groans are exchanged in this slowly maddening exchange, his body very receptive to the hair-pulling.

His hands trailed down onto the swell of your breasts, squeezing firmly around your soft and tender flesh, and you arch into his hands. His tongue furthers into your mouth in your brief distraction, and he trails his tongue everywhere in your mouth, letting nothing go untouched until you were unable to do anything but expel hot, passionate breaths with just the slightest bit of a whine. Your increasingly satisfied moans make him chuckle. You watch with heavy lids as he pulls away, his face deliriously close to your own as you pant.

From this distance, you can see the fire burning in his eyes. A sight that makes you shiver with growing need, but the thought disappears when his mouth attaches onto your neck. His canines sink deeply into your skin catching you entirely off guard in this desperate claim, but you rewarded his actions by screaming his name, the feeling of his hot tongue soothing the burning flesh too sweet and wanton. It’s a new sensation and one that you rather liked seeing that your hips buck up against his; your body craving more friction.

His canines continue tracing against your skin, biting and marking you more and more with the increased vocal praises pouring from your lips. You wanted more, you needed more.

“Oh fuck!” you gasp while Shouto hastily removes your wet clothes from your overheating body, the cold air hitting you, but goes ignored because he presses back down against you, his mouth recapturing yours, and your nipples pebbling with his chest against yours.

The two of you are lost in the kiss, your lips pressing and pulling against the other in a desperate act, your fingers burying crescents into his skin all while your clothes still continue to be stripped from both of your bodies until theres nothing between you but a flimsy set of underwear.

Your nostrils flare as you pull away, a need for air too much for you to continue your kissing endeavors, but as he now remains in just his boxers, your breathing nearly stops while you take in his form to the maximum.

You really were fucking lucky…

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teases you, and he captures your lips with his own again.

You gasp sharply at the feeling of his heated toned body pressing against your cold yet flushed skin. Your hands sliding down his muscular back were intoxicated with the way his body felt, an overwhelming need to get more from him was undeniable.

“I don’t need a picture of something that I can have every day,” you shudder as his fingers graze the pool of heat in your panties.

“Oh really? Everyday?”

“You think I — oh shit — you think I can’t?!”

You watch as he chuckles against your skin, his fingers trailing over the curves of your breast and into the valley between them before rutting his cock against the place you needed him most right now. “So you just want me for my dick? Nothing else?” he asks you, his cock rubbing against your panties applying a dizzying pressure against your pooling heat.

“I want you, all of you,” you confess, unable to even kid around with the need between your legs being as strong as it was while your hips pathetically grind into his fingers. He chuckles as he pushes your thighs up, and pulls the fabric of your panties to the side, his finger teasing your building heat.

“Such decisive words from a girl who just wanted to kiss me with no relationship in mind,” he mutters sinking two fingers into your unsuspecting heat.

The helpless and needy scream that pours from your mouth interrupts your denial makes him laugh.

“Tell me, y/n,” he says as his fingers slowly pump within you.

Slowly.

Teasingly.

“Do you want my dick in you?”

Your harsh pants keep you from speaking as Shouto increases his speed. His fingers curling within your walls stretching you out in a thigh shaking way. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re vastly affected by his intruding fingers, your body violently trembling with his curled appendages, your mind unable to form sentences because god how was he doing that with his fingers?!

“Yes, fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, oh my god Shouto!” you shriek as your hips slam against his fingers with every crashing movement.

“How about dating me? You think you’ll finally let me be your boyfriend?” he muses as his teeth come to bite against your exposed nipples, relishing in the way your head nods pathetically, so desperate for him to do moore. The neverending noises of approval expelling from your mouth only grow when his tongue flicks your nipple. Your fingers digging into his shoulders in wild approval. “Are you going to try and find someone else?”

“No! I just want you, Shouto! P-Please fuck me!” you beg as you try squirming away from his fingers. Your fingers scratching their way down his back, leaving bleeding marks on him in attempt to get him to do more to you. You watch in growing glee and excitement as he slips off your underwear, and his cock spreads completely against your dripping cunt.

A satisfied and slightly horrified moan escapes your mouth at the sight of him carding his cock between your folds. His fingers remove from your sopping wet cunt as he licks you clean from his fingers. “Maybe I’ll have some dessert later,” he wickedly grins as he slowly fists himself. “Now lay back and legs out.”

He accentuates every word, and you feel yourself heeding his command. Your hands quickly gather your thighs in your hand, and you stretch backward as you watch him draw near your spread legs. The tip of his hard cock teasing your entrance.

“Fuck me already!” you whine as he continues to only coat his cock with your juices, uncaring of both of your throbbing sexes.

He looks up at you, a smirk on his face as he shrugs.

“Sure.”

A shriek crashes through your mouth as he pushes his cock completely into your awaiting cunt without mercy. His girth stretching you out in an unimaginable way. Stretching you out in ways you were not prepared for, your back arching off the mat in your silent scream. Your walls rippled as they attempted to relax and grow used to his size. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cry, absurdly unprepared for his cock in you as your body trembles as Shouto leans forward.

His own head is buried within your neck, his breathing trying to reign back in.

“Shit, princess,” Shouto cockily rasps, but his words feel powerless as he is obviously affected by the tightness of you around him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

You mewl as the painful throb in your pussy lulls and you writhe your hips against him, “Please do something, fuck me right. Please fuck me.”

Shouto smirks, small and knowing, and rightfully so as he adheres to your demand. His hips position to a better angle, his hand pressing against your thighs and you can only watch with your face buried into his neck he begins slamming into you. Your hips move in time with his. 

Both of you desperate under your nearing orgasms and this heightened state of pleasure brought by the desperation of this fuck. You had both survived the attack, something that the both of you had been so scared of eventually happening given your records, but you had lived. You had lived and became insanely horny at the first sight of Shouto. 

His hands gripped your hands while he pounded into you. His grip nearly cracks your hands as he slams his body faster against yours, stretching you out with every move, and by god does he know how to use his cock that dragged against your spongey puffy walls. His hands shift as they drag out under your ass, clenching your supple flesh as this difference stretches you out in unimaginable ways.

His hips crashing into yours is mind jolting, and your cries only fuel him on.

Your body feels as if it is turning into jelly as he shifts your two legs over his shoulders. His cock bottoming out into you making your back arch off the mattress as you wail out his name. Shouto’s heated fingers press against your throbbing clit. You suppress a wail as he rubs harsh and delicate figure-eights onto your puffy nerve. Your pussy is clamping down on his hammering cock, not at all slowing him down, and yet he still grunts and increases his speed and strength.

Your noises of pleasure silences as his cock hits the back of your walls, your legs thrashing around as he drilled into you the same way.

Over and over.

Again and again.

Harder and harder.

His cock smashing against your walls until he tilts his angle and crashes down hard against your g-spot.

“Shouto!!!” you scream as he continues pounding into your g-spot. His alias a prayer on your lips as he continues fucking your brains out.

You shoot up off the mattress, your screams muffled through a kiss as you wrap your arms around him. Even though your legs were on his shoulder, you held on. The angle allows Shouto to drive his cock against your g-spot over and over again. Your body bouncing with every single slam. His body is giving you exploding sensations, your tightness making Shouto moan and curse.

“I needa – fuuuuck, baby do that again – I needa come!” you squeak as your body rocks against his own.

“Come for me, princess.” Shouto sighs into your mouth. “Come around my cock.”

The built-up pleasure in your belly is profuse, it’s built up so fast, and your toes curl in electrifying pleasure. You can’t handle it anymore, the pleasure being too much.

Your orgasm slams through you, your vision nearly turning white as your jaw drops as your screams go silent. Shouto’s mouth continues to move against yours, kissing sloppily against your teeth as he chases his own orgasm. His teeth digging into your bottom lip as his jaw slacks.

His hips continue slamming into you. They’re brutal as they slam over and over again. He’s chanting your name as your stimulated cunt continues clenching around his length. His pace is making you grow numb in his arms, although your hips still continue to desperately roll against his. His breathing is heavy and tense. Panting as he struggles to keep himself composed.

“Come inside me…” You whine into his ear, desperate to feel his hot seed within you. “B-Breed me like the bitch I am, sir!” Your cry, wanting nothing more than his cock to bury all nine inches in you.

“Come for me one more time, and I’ll make sure to fill you until you’re dripping with my semen for an entire week,” Shouto promises, and his hips slam within you.

Your knees are buried within the mattress by your head, your feet curling and pressing against each other.  Shouto lays on top of you, the penetration deep, and his hands gripping yours. The weight of having him on you is exhilarating, and for the first time this night, his lips press hungrily against yours while deep within you.

His cock slams against the wall of your cervix repetitively while his lips overwhelm you. Each slam into you is massive and powerful. Powerful enough to have you sobbing into his mouth while he kisses you, his hands clutching your smaller ones in his.

Again and again, he slams into you. His thrusts knock the wind out of you until you release his hands and find yourself digging your fingers into his back, crying out his name desperately while his teeth find a home on your neck, sinking into flesh he had long ago broke. The powerful pounding of his cock makes you keen, your hips jerking up to meet his, but you’re useless against his downward thrusts.

“Impregnate me, sir,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, “breed me! Please fill me up!”

“You’ll be full of my fucking kids in no time,” he snaps, his cock throbbing within your pussy, and loud echoing slaps fill the room. Your nails claw into his back, marking him in multiple places with clean four bloody red lines.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved perfectly within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises reasonably similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, princess?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh. “You like the way my cock fills your pussy the same way it did that pretty little ass?” You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. Your sanity was lying on a string, his actions the reasons for your downfall.

His leverage was small, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. Before he drilled back into your pussy. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot throbbing cock. The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically under your fingernails, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“You like the way I fuck your pussy? The way that Imma fill you with my seed for days to come?” he growls into your ear, his hips slamming inhumanly faster into you.

“I need you to breed me,” you sob, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have noticed the clamping of your inner walls as he continues drilling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You sob against his mouth, your nails tearing into his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he only continues to fuck you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

“Cum, sir,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Please, fill me with your seed!”

His cock stretches you out in a new way as he presses your back onto the mattress again. The protruding veins on his cock creating insane friction against your walls. Shouto fucks you mercilessly, his fingers clenching your ass as you come apart for him. Shouto curses loudly as he finally loses himself within you. His hips drilling forward one last time as a heavy load shoots into your throbbing cunt.

Shaky breathing fills the air as he pulls out of you.

You whine at the lack of him within you, and your body relaxes as he falls beside you. You whimper as you feel your combine cum seeping from your clenching pussy.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, his hand moving to find yours again, and you can’t say anything but nod in agreement.

“Holy shit is right,” you chuckle and his snort makes you warm inside.

“So… we’re dating now, right?” you ask softly, moving to look at Shouto’s closed eyes.

“We’re about five months late on that, but yes, yes we are.”

[davids-cartoon-corkboard]

I have said a Lot about the “Raph is a system” theory over the past several months, so this is something of a compilation post. It’s got some new stuff, it’s got some old stuff. (You’re reading Part 1) (Part 2 is here) (Part 3 is here)

---

Firstly, “system” is the term for someone with Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID. (The term can also apply to some folks with OSDD.) Someone might develop DID after experiencing long-term trauma at an early age- roughly five or six years old. To paraphrase the DSM-V:

1. We’ve seen three (possibly four) distinct personality states who speak, act, and perceive others differently.

2. The personality states, or “alters”, don’t necessarily share memory, and Donnie insinuated in “The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle” that Raph has a bad memory in general.

3. Problems arise when alters don’t get along or aren’t on the same page. That none of them seem to be quite aware they’re a system doesn’t help either; it’s hard to work on communication and cooperation when you don’t know they need to be worked on!

4. This whole situation isn’t a normal part of a broadly accepted cultural or religious practice, or just Raph playing make-believe. (Though I wonder if he had “imaginary friends” when he was younger...)

5. It’s also not because Raph’s been smoking the devil’s lettuce or whatever. “Pizza Puffs” was one long weed joke and he was the only one “sober” (not poisoned) throughout! We don’t see this happen to other mutants, so it’s not a bizarre side effect of mutagen either.

(I’ve seen a few people joke that Mikey has “multiple personalities”, but that’s a tad yikesy and also just plain incorrect. His “doctor” personas are something he does deliberately, and youngest siblings are just Like That.)

So yeah, Raph is pretty heavily DID-coded. We’ve seen four alters so far:

“Host” Raph (HR): He’s our everyday Raph. A “host” is an alter who fronts most of the time and takes care of “business as usual” situations. They are often unaware of past traumatic events, such that they can appear “normal”. (Ex: the host of a child who lives with an abusive parent could be unaware of the abuse. Otherwise, they might cry or be uncooperative whenever the parent is near, further invoking their wrath. This unawareness allows them to be a “good child”, and stay under the parent’s radar sometimes.) Some systems have more than one host, but that the others have shown up so rarely in this story suggests HR is the only host (for now?).

Savage Raph (SR): Debuting in “Man vs. Sewer”, he’s a survival-oriented alter. HR probably could have defeated the Sando Brothers on his own under normal circumstances, but being in the middle of a breakdown doesn’t do much for your fighting skills. SR got pulled to the front to deal with them instead.

“Red” Raph (RR): “Red” is just a placeholder since we don’t actually know his name yet (or even if he has one, not all alters do), though I’ve also heard folks call him “Angel”. He’s got a “tough love” approach to problem-solving, which was probably a helpful thing in the past. LDM were no doubt rowdy children! We were (officially) introduced to him in “Pizza Puffs”.

Mind Raph (MR): MR could just be a manifestation of HR's thought process via Cartoon Goofery, but that possibility doesn’t give me anything to work with so I’m ignoring it. He’s pretty similar to HR, maybe a tad more upbeat. We (officially) met him in “Raph’s Ride-Along”.

When “Pizza Puffs” first aired, I was like “ah yes, this is the alter who has the cranky edgelord tendencies we’ve seen in previous iterations of Raph. He probably broods on rooftops in the rain when he’s in a bad mood.” Combining that with the whole “Red Angel” thing gives off some Batman vibes. And, of course, SR is similar to the Hulk. Those two heroes are pretty different, but they do have one major thing in common...

A sudden, violent loss. Given how prevalent rushing water is throughout “Man vs. Sewer”, I’m thinking a flood came through and separated Raph from his family. (You could probably argue that turbulent water symbolizes a turbulent subconscious? 🤷) Again, DID stems from long-term trauma, so Raph must have been gone for... a while. A couple of months, maybe more? It’s hard to say exactly; we have a little wiggle room when applying human developmental psychology to a human/turtle mutant. Since Splinter still needed to care for the other three, he wouldn’t have been able to devote much time to searching for Raph, and the New York City sewers go on for miles and miles. The longer Raph was alone, the more convinced he would have been that the others had drowned and he was the only survivor.

How old would he have been? I know the turtles are “different ages”, but they were all mutated at the same time so I’m pretty sure Splinter was just like “the littlest one is the youngest, the biggest one is the oldest, and the medium-sized ones are the middle children.” They’re all probably fourteenish by “Finale”. Back in “MvS”, Leo said, “You know how savage Raph gets when he’s alone”. He didn’t say anything like, “You know how savage Raph gets when he’s alone ever since such-and-such an incident happened”. This suggests that LDM straight-up don’t know something traumatic happened to Raph; they were too little to retain concrete memories of that time. In their minds, Raph has always been like this. Draxum isn’t known for his patience, so even though he wasn’t able to immerse the hatchlings in mutagen for long, they probably mature a bit faster than humans. And since humans usually can’t remember anything from before four years of age, three sounds about right for the turtles, though they would have been stronger and steadier on their feet than any human toddler. I doubt Raph would have survived otherwise.

I think he’s sort of... “stuck” back in that trauma. Catching food, building a fire, making a weapon, and getting camouflage aren’t the behaviors of someone who’s only been gone for a few minutes.

When SR called for help, I don’t think he was expecting anyone to answer.

But Raph did manage to hang onto something as he was swept away! It wasn’t much, but that little ragdoll gave him comfort while he was scared and alone.

(The rabbit design on Bruce’s pajamas is probably a coincidence, but...)

Raph seems the type to have sympathy for odd-looking toys. His knockoff Mrs. Cuddles plushie was the emotional crutch he needed back then.

And then he was separated from that as well. Lowkey associating Mrs. Cuddles with this traumatic event would explain why HR was so scared of her. That he doesn’t remember the trauma means he has no context for this fear, making it seem silly and baseless to him (and to the rest of his family), which is why he denied being scared at all in the first part of the “Mrs. Cuddles” episode. It would also explain why he collects teddy bears instead these days, they are a “safe” toy. (The moral of the story is to not make fun of triggers that seem silly.)

(I wonder what would happen if Mrs. Cuddles encountered Savage Raph? Perhaps he’d be quite sympathetic towards such a lonely little raggedy thing! Timestuck as he is, he probably wouldn’t question why a stuffed animal can talk... and it wouldn't be hard for her to persuade her “new bestest fwiend” to get rid of some “mean ol’ nasty sewew monstews” for her.)

That whole “sewer monsters” thing suggests Raph ran into... something while he was wandering alone. Y’all have heard those rumors about alligators living in the New York City sewers, right? Encountering Leatherhead could trigger a flashback.

It would be pretty easy to introduce Leatherhead into the narrative. One of the episodes the Rise crew had planned was titled “The Island of Dr. Noe”, and alligators have very impressive teeth. The Mirage comics had a story where Leatherhead and several cryptids were brought to an island to be hunted for sport.

Noe seems to have quite a few cronies/friends/rivals he could entertain this way. Since he’s got that obsession with Raph, Noe captures him as well, knocking him out with those darts so he can’t waste his energy trying to escape too soon. (Let’s just assume everyone’s powers are glitchy because they all hit another wave of puberty, meaning they can’t just curbstomp the lower-level villains lol.)

HR wakes up on the island and, of course, starts to panic because he’s lost and alone. While wandering, he runs into Leatherhead, which would trigger a flashback to getting attacked by that alligator all those years ago. But Leatherhead doesn’t want to fight! He’s just as scared and confused as HR is, and could really use a partner to help him survive this island.

HR and SR come into conflict because Leatherhead is/isn’t/is/isn’t/is/isn’t a threat. HR eventually wins out, reasoning that even if Leatherhead is that alligator, it wouldn’t be fair to judge him for what he did back when he was an animal.

But time and dissociation can make memories unclear. That our first look at Leatherhead was in Draxum’s “bluh bluh I’m gonna mutate all the humans” bit in “Bug Busters” means he’s a human-base mutant. He wasn’t the alligator back then, but the hunter tracking it. Leatherhead isn’t one of Noe’s targets, he is one of Noe’s guests! And he wants no one to interfere with his quarry, so he’ll play nice long enough for him and the snapper to take out the rest of the hunters and the freaks. Then the two of them will have the island all to themselves...

Years and years ago, Jack Marlin was a big game hunter prowling the New York City sewers in search of an alligator. He did manage to find and kill one, only to realize it had also been hunting! He had inadvertently saved the strangest little turtle creature.

Marlin had become too skilled at this point, the hunt held no challenge for him. This turtle sounded very young, and he was quite big and strong already. An adult could be tough and intelligent enough to entertain him. Marlin tried to get Raph to lead him back to “the others”. But Raph had been lost for some time, and as far as he knew, his family was dead. Hearing that put Marlin in quite the sour mood. A little mutant snapper is a better catch than none at all, so Marlin tried to haul Raph off. Raph fought back and bit off Marlin’s hand. He escaped, but lost his rabbit in the scuffle. Marlin retreated as well, taking some time to recover, scheme, and hunt other game. (And to pocket that rabbit. The blood loss had made him woozy, and he wanted to have some kind of proof he hadn’t just hallucinated the snapper.) Perhaps he turned that alligator’s hide into a vest, which provided the genetic material for his mutation when he eventually got bit by an oozesquito. Like his Mirage counterpart, Marlin didn’t take losing a limb as a sign he should retire, and instead got a tricked-out prosthetic. Who knows what he could do with it in such a mystic setting as Rise.

Raph eventually reunited with his family, but those distrustful, high-strung survivalist traits he had picked up weren’t helpful anymore. He once again had to be the good and patient big brother who didn’t bite when someone play-tackled him or shook him awake at three in the morning because they’d had a nightmare. Those two states gradually got partitioned off more and more, and now they know little, if anything, about each other.

So Leatherhead and HR are chasing away some mothmen or whatever, and things are going pretty well... until one of them knocks Leatherhead over and a familiar ragdoll rabbit falls out of his pocket. SR realizes that Leatherhead is Marlin and switches in to fight him off again. They’re evenly matched, or perhaps SR is even in danger of losing, when LDM arrive to provide support. Leatherhead is enough of a tactician to know that he should retreat. Donnie and Mikey pursue him while Leo stays behind, placing the rabbit in his stunned brother’s hands. “Remember when Pops made this for you? You were always really gentle with it, ‘cause he wasn’t good at sewing back then...”

(This thing really needs patching up, he’s got sewing stuff for whenever he needs to fix his bears/Blue isn’t a threat on his own/Wasn’t he just back at the lair?/Blue gave back the rabbit/Why does he feel like he got hit by a train?/Blue doesn’t want to fight?/ ...Leo?) And that’s enough for HR to switch back in. He’s probably missing memory from his whole time on the island, so while Leo does his best to tell him what happened, they don’t have enough puzzle pieces between them to truly figure out what's going on.

They defeat the bad guys, release the cryptids, save the day, etc. (Leatherhead managed to lose Donnie and Mikey in the woods. A battle for another day.) Once they return to the lair, HR gets help from Draxum to modify the memory spell from “E-Turtle Sunshine” so he can try to fill in the gaps. Surely he wouldn’t get rejected by his own subconscious... right?

Cue part three in the saga of Raph Punches Himself In The Face. SR isn’t happy that HR is essentially trying to poke at an improperly-healed wound, and attempts to chase him off. HR assumes that SR is just a psychic white blood cell like the Lou Jitsu constructs in Splinter’s mind, and retaliates.

But, of course, fighting is not the answer here. All that accomplishes is giving the body bruises. Eventually HR realizes “stay away” and “back off” are a little different than “get out”, and that SR is just scared. So HR tries another tactic. Over the following days and weeks, he tunes in to calmer memories and just sort of... talks. About what happened yesterday, about his teddy bear collection, about how he finally managed to get a good picture of that pizza pigeon. It takes a while to establish a connection, and even then, it’s spotty at best. Using the spell too much can cause headaches and nightmares. There are days when SR is nearby, and days when he’s not there at all. But he shows up when he can.

And then there’s awkward, stilted conversation and questions neither of them know how to answer and questions neither of them want to answer and more scrapes and bruises and strained silences and apologies, but they finally, finally reach a compromise. SR still doesn’t let HR near those memories, but he tells HR what happened as best he can. (The audience would see those memories, with SR as a voiceover.) Afterwards, HR still visits the mindscape that’s starting to become more solid. They talk some more, they watch light and shadow flow around them, they listen to half-forgotten lullabies on scratchy old cassette tapes. Eventually, HR doesn’t even need to use the memory spell, meditation is enough.

They’ll never get along all the time. But it’s a start.

(SR is going to be so clingy when it finally clicks for him when he finally lets himself believe that his family is alive.)

---

This took eight million years lmao. Parts 2 and 3 will come out eventually, they’ll focus more on MR and RR. Let me know if I need to tag this stuff as anything.

The usual disclaimer applies, I am not a system or a mental health professional so if you’re one or both of those things then feel free to give me some of that good good constructive criticism.

[rosegardenofeden]

Not Too Familiar Chapter 1: Out of Nyacessity

When a pair of catgirl wizards must find a familiar in order to move ahead in wizard college, they decide to team up and become each other's familiars.

Inspired by this post by @transjade

“What do you mean I need a familiar to move to 3rd year?” Sara was livid, her tail swishing back in forth as she stood in front of her academic counselor. A catgirl by birth, and a wizard by trade, Sara had been attending Zabathor’s School of Wizardry and Warlockisms for two years now, in hopes of becoming a top tier nekomancer.

Ms. Bartleby sighed. “Sara, we discussed this in our first meeting. To move from first or second, you needed to be able to cast ten spells without aid of a book. For third year, you need a familiar. And a living one.”

“That is not at all fair! I’m a necromancer! And I’m… really not good with animals!”

Ms. Bartleby adjusted her thick glasses. “Ah yes, your ‘death aura.’ You need to get registered with the school’s department of Magical Disabilities and Curses before you can get an exemption.”

Sara stomped her feet, ears twitching through the brim of her wide hat. “They won’t give me an exemption, it’s slow acting!”

Her counselor leaned forward. “Well then, it seems you have one month to procure a familiar, or else you’ll be held back a year.”

Sara looked mortified. “I can’t get held back, I have an apprenticeship set up with Xanthor the Unscryable when I graduate, and I can’t do that on time! Please, I’ve done excellent in all my studies, but I can’t do this one! Please!”

Ms. Bartleby sighed. “I’m afraid my hands are tied, Sara. Good luck.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of campus, in a cramped room in the Alltowers dorm, a building made exclusively of tall, crooked towers, another wizard was hoping to solve the same problem. Xanthippe bunched her hair under her hat, worn crooked and floppy, and wiped the sweat off her forehead, glancing from a boiling cauldron, swirling with arcane energy to her spellbook at her side. Unfortunately, due to a number of potion spills and errant fireballs, the page was near illegible.

“Um, oh dammit, uhhh m-mutare… hoc… in felis!” She finished her incantation, sneezing as she threw in the last ingredient, a bundle of cat hair. Xanthippe was intensely allergic to cats, bats, frogs, turtles, and most forms of life. And hypoallergenic cats were in very short supply at Zabathor’s, so she had to work with what she had: lots of miscellaneous ingredients that would hopefully come to resemble a familiar, however temporary. However, Xanthippe had forgot three key rules of potionmaking: One, always keep your cauldron on a steady tripod, not balanced on your stovetop. Two, do not hesitate in your incantations, and three, never introduce any part of yourself to the potion. She failed all three as she sneezed, throwing the cat hair in, and tipped the cauldron’s contents on to her. A cacophony ensued as last nights takeout boxes, the cauldron, and her, all crashed to the floor, where she lay groaning. After a few painful moments, she straightened up, and began checking herself for any magical burns, injuries, or limb mutations. Feeling nothing on her arms, legs, or torso, she sighed in relief, her tail flicking happily.

Her tail. Which she now had.

“Oh fuck.”

Sara decided to go get coffee like she always did when she got worked up. The campus coffeeshop, the Howling Hex, was famous for its wonderful variety of spelled and cursed coffees. She collected herself. She would find a way to get a familiar. She had always overcome every academic challenge before her: in 5th-grade, when she had won first place in the Spelling Bee, using Baleful Polymorph to turn her opponent into a toad, when they had tried for a simple Disintegrate; in high school, when her talent show had wowed everyone by commanding everyone’s skeletons inside their bodies to dance (admittedly there was more pained screaming than praise, but everyone agreed it was a very impressive performance); or her entrance exam into Zabathor’s, where she had stolen the soul of a god and used it to rip a hole in reality, sending most of the judges screaming into utter madness, their dying words being in praise to her. Needless to say, she had cultivated somewhat of a large ego over the years, and that was really taking a hit with this whole familiar business. In fact, she was so absorbed in thought, she didn’t notice when a woman, tugging her floppy wizard hat over her eyes, plowed right into her, scattering spell scrolls and reagents all over the cobblestone.

“Oh fuck, I am so, so sorry.” The mysterious woman knelt to the ground, scrambling to pick up her things. “Hard to see ‘n all that.”

Sara sighed, kneeling down and helping to pick up the papers. “No, I’m sorry, I should have been paying more attention. I’ve got a lot on my mind.” She grabbed a tincture that screamed the day that the universe would die when she touched it, at the same time the other woman did. Their hands brushed, and as they did, the brims of their hats touched.

“Oh, my stars I am so so sorry!” Sara whipped back, blushing furiously. The other woman simply picked it up, brushed herself off, and started to walk away. Sara called out, “Wait! I am so sorry, at least let me get you a coffee.”

The other girl looked back, raising the brim of her hat slightly, revealing a pair of beautiful, dilated eyes, sharp triangular ears, a few errant whiskers, and a lovely tan face. Xanthippe sighed.

“You know what? Yeah, I could go for some coffee right now.”

“So, you were born a catgirl?” Xantippe asked, swirling a straw around her boba tea. Each boba that she popped between her now much sharper teeth released a different flavor of mist out of her mouth. Blueberry. Taro. Pure Evocation. Vanilla.

“Yep! Mom was a catgirl, mama was a catgirl you know. Big catgirl lineage, apparently we’re descended from the Great Sphynx herself.” She fluffed her hair as sipped her bright blue iced coffee, which caused the fur on her arms to be coated in a light layer of snow. “So, were you not born a catgirl?”

“No, and not just because I wasn’t really born a girl,” Xanthippe said.

Sara perked up. “Oh, same! But how long have you been a catgirl?”

Xanthippe checked the arcane sundial on her wrist. “Since 11:30.”

“So… wait, you just became a catgirl today?” She stood up a bit, swishing her tail. “Congrats!”

Xanthippe took a long, slow sip of her boba. Concrete. Mathomancy. Green Tea. “Actually, it was more of… an accident.”

“Oh!” Sara’s ears folded back. “I am so sorry. Is that why…”

“Yeah, I was heading to the library to find a reversion spell. No offense, this catgirl stuff is all just a lot,” Xanthippe said.

Sara nodded. “I get that, you have to take things at your own pace. You can’t cast the Power Words without learning your cantrips. But what sort of spell were you doing that caused it? Polymorph gone wrong?”

Xanthippe rubbed the back of her hat. “Not exactly. I was trying to summon a familiar, you know, for the graduation requirements. I’m super allergic to like, everything, so I was trying to make a hypoallergenic cat to be my familiar. I know, I should have gotten it done sooner, but I just—”

“Holy shit, you too? The reason I was in a funk is because I can’t keep a familiar! Unfortunate long-term death aura, incurable. Doesn’t work on humanoids though, don’t worry.”

“Oh good, that seems like a hard existence. And hey, at least I’m not allergic to you!” Xanthippe smiled.

Sara laughed. “Yeah! God, if only we could be each other’s familiars.”

Xanthippe laughed back. “God, right? Like, two catgirls being each other’s familiars?”

“Right? Like, I read the rulebooks, there’s nothing against it, what if?”

They laughed loudly together, raising the noise level of the café even higher, amongst shining thaumaturgies and illusions, until their humor died down, and they took a long second of silence. Then they both leaned forward and said in unison: “Hey wait, why don’t we just do that?”

Xanthippe exclaimed, “I’m not allergic to you, and I’m not affected by your death aura!”

“We can both be each other’s familiar for the exam, then we don’t have to look for other familiars!” Sara said.

“Well, hell yes! Let’s do it!”

Sara smiled and held out her hand. Xanthippe took it and shook it.

“Nice to meet you, Familiar. My name’s Sara.”

“Good to know you, Familiar, my name’s Xanthippe.” Read Chapter 2 Here

[appledotcodotuk]

why the hive fckin suck at its job: a rant

spoilers for tgwdlm ahead!

first of all, it's important to consider what exactly the hive's job is. my answer is... who the fuck knows. literally. what is the hive's aim. what do you want Paul? more like, what do you want hive? let's find out!

it kinda evolves, as the play progresses. the intial aim of the hive, and one that does actually remain consistent is the constant burning need to grow and devour and gain more and more (insert capitalism metaphor here).

however, this is distorted by the people it possess who influence that aim, as we'll see later.

also the fact it crashes into a theatre displaying Mamma Mia gives the hive the motive it need to fit the world around it to the structure of the musical. having no originality of its own, the hive instead just picks up what is given to it. kinda like an evil baby.

it wants uniformity, that is indeed its ultimate goal and desire, no duh. it thinks it can achieve that through musical theatre, shame that the hive is dead wrong. cause the hive fucking sucks at its own job / aim / ultimate purpose / one concrete goal that motivates all its actions.

can't maintain control over its subjects

okay, so, the hive wants uniformity. it wants everyone to be dancing to the beat of its own tune. right? yeah. shame it literally can't keep its own possessed subjects in line at all. at the risk of sounding like the 10th doctor waxing lyrical abt humanity for the 50th time, humans are really difficult to control cause we're not really motivated by an altruistic allegiance to one primary good. we've got icky emotions that often move us to do stupid unpredictable stuff way more. it makes me wonder if the reason the hive wanted to use musical theatre to try and persuade ppl was cause it seems to think that is how theyll get emotive humans; through emotive songs. anyways. let's look at some examples shall weeeee?

Mr Davidson:

so, Mr Davidson. funnily enough, he's the guy whose in part acting as the hive trying to figure out what it wants through his interactions w/ Paul. every person it possess gives it just a bit more humanity and curiosity abt the world it is currently taking over. at least I think so. hence why as the musical develops u get character's like possessed!Alice wondering 'why does it hurt to love?' - the change in music and mood to something much more introspective really suggests to me that the hive is beginning to question the thoughts and emotions of its human hosts.

Mr Davidson is a family man through and through, he loves his wife Carol. she's his muse, his source of light. his feelings for her are not concrete or easy to explain and solve - hence why his sudden ahem demand of her is so hilarious and also jarring. it completely clashes with the 'I want song' which is simple, and often pushes forward a wider cause. not so with Mr Davidson, he just really loves his wife man. enough to break a frickin alien possession.

tbh I think its hilarious that (at least to me) the hive has to force him to forget and continue with the song, like, he straight up is just talking to his wife in that phone call, talking, not singing. so, no possession until he reverts back into song. ergo, the hive cannot maintain the uniformity it wants. even from the get go when theoretically its control should be stronger cause it has less ppl to co-ordinate. bad. at. its. job.

Paul:

this one hurts folks. yes, I know it's generally agreed, though somewhat debated that the state of Paul by the end of the tgwdlm is not purely possessed. I agree. once again, the hive is unable to truly enforce uniformity.

at this point, the motives of Paul and the hive are kinda just mixed, neither fully human nor fully alien. hence the constant shifts between pleeing for her to get away, to hide, to stay safe: 'what if the only choice is you have to sing to survive' and just full on old style hive nastiness 'let me puke in your mouth and just open your food bin girl' (so romantic 🥰 /j).

the hive has gone away from its original aim, and become something... different. no longer stuck to just one type of genre or style of song, it's really clever to show the developing complexity of the hive by showing how it is now juggling lots of different motifs with references to all the old songs from before recontextualised in a new way - its learning. evil baby... no longer uniform.

general miscommunication:

there are several instances of the hive not fully having uniform control over its subjects. for instance, right after not your seed with the three teens having to like... calibrate. they aren't just completely connected then?? also, this is a very small thing, but uhhhh at the end of inevitable when Paul is about to say the apotheosis is upon... the chorus interrupts him with USSSSSSS. interruptions??? not very in sync of u hive.

I think this inability to exert uniformity is also shown in the contrast between genre of musical theatre. my alien abomination cannot decide whether it wants to be the more modern edgy rock musical (join us (and die), not your seed ) or super happy go lucky old style musical theatre (lah dee dah dah day, and inevitable). it tries to do both, even while trying to encourage union, and sticking to one thing. hypocrite!!!!!

2. aims are guided by the people it possess

so, I mentioned this a bit already, but the hive isn't only mutating the humans, the humans are mutating the hive right back. this is more an interesting observation than any actual analysis but let's goooo.

greenpeace girl:

I think it's very likely that greenpeace girl is one of the first to be possessed. This is probably easily debunkable but whatever this analysis is flying by the seat or its pants anywayyyyy. why? cause where else would it pick up that whole 'this planet needs fixing' thing? it's interesting too, cause it morphs from expressing the desire to join hands and sing together, unity and peace with no actual action behind it. this then goes right to the other end, with the hive going 'fine I'll do it myself' and trying to save things by enforcing a dictatorship on the world. it develops and changes, and strays from its original means of accomplishing its aims! speaking oooooof...

3. inconsistent in means of accomplishing aims

okay, ur an evil hive mind. u think musicals are the way to win over these silly humans cause they're all weak and emotive and seem to respond to them. but, wait! schwoopsie! you haven't realised that for emotional depth and growth to mean anything, you need there to be established development and well... growth. otherwise the sentiments are as vague as the ones expressed in What Do You Want, Paul?

this show has genuine emotional moments, just not really during the musical numbers WITH EXCEPTIONS. any strife is smoothed over quickly, and so the development and change that would have to go into such growth is just gone. (see, You Tied Up My Heart) all so it can achieve its own desire to grow and grow and grow, maybe a metaphor for art being killed under late stage capitalism??

what actually matters is the impact the songs have afterwards, in causing a death - because we have a bond and care abt these characters. those short scenes between Paul and Emma are actually way more resonant than any song. except... inevitable, and also not your seed a bit. at this point the hive has learnt a thing or two, and can actually twist human emotion a little. but for it to do that, it has to reject the uniformity it prizes, and be adaptable. point towards being more human than it first thought? methinks so. and yet it's just not enough...

it's also why let it out, to me, feels really ingenuine. Paul has expressed himself in much better ways already. what they're doing is clearly paining him, and hurting the guy. he's terrified bless.

you can't force someone into being emotional vulnerable, man.

it's why all the deaths for the characters who are forced to express themselves are really violent, involving them being ripped open - literally forcing them to expose themselves from the 'inside out' as Alice reflects in Not Your Seed. you can't force genuine emotional connection, it has to be fostered, shown in the much more affecting relationship of Paul and Emma. the only reason the hive actually has power over our characters is because of these genuine emotional connections, which it tries and often fails to take advantage of, resulting in just resorting to brute violence. messy hive, very messy.

at the core, the musical's a kinda attack on that toxic positivity mindst: trying to force people to reach the sort of easy solutions by sharing feelings in a way that feels pretty invasive and deciding you are instantly fixed. the problems these characters face are jarringly not really what you'd expect a character in a musical to face, cheating, a lot of it, mid-life crisis. problems that are bland, or wayyyy too real. this is purposefully done, to reveal just how silly the hive's aim to use musical theatre to solve everyone's problem is. life is more complex than that smh.

4. a human can write a much more expressive, and genuine song than they ever could lol

u know which song I'm talking abt. what more is there to say. so much for making persuasive songs to tempt people over.

5. make me sad cause they took some perfectly nice ppl and funked them up 😭

this was a stupid point lol. basically I'm just bitter that this hive took a bunch of perfectly okay ppl and gave them hive brain. screw u hive. I swear I'm gonna watch Black Friday soon, cause I'm sure it's gonna completely destroy every thought I've had so far, but whateve,,, just take this as a look at tgwdlm like it's a stand-alone piece.

these guys are supposed to all be 'individuals' on one level, but also 'appendages of a much larger organism'. there's a little too much individualism and fracturing to be cohesive enough to do that I feel. the hive to me is not an infallible, unstoppable force, in fact, every human it takes over only brings it closer to understanding us. so that's maybe a slight positive note??? idk ?! I just have lots of thoughts and feelings abt this musical even if this doesn't make sense I'm proud i wrote it down hehe.

[astersofthesky]

BNHA "End All Quirks" Ending: A Meta-Theory

(Eversince I read @firyfox opinion regarding this particular series endgame possibility, my dumb ass decided to create a teeny meta-theory 😅)

Personally, I don't prefer everyone losing their quirks in the end, although Izuku has a high chance of returning to being quirkless once AFO gets defeated and OFA vanishes alongside it.

The eradication of quirks may seem farfetched and like a cop-out at first, but I don't think it's impossible. For me, this ending would only work if Izuku does return to being quirkless in the end.

So, if ever Hori decides to end all quirks, in my opinion, it can go three ways:

1. Quickly through quirk erasing drugs

2. Slowly by creating a drug that stabilizes a human's ability to pass quirks to the next generation

3. Quickly through a Deus ex machina (I highly doubt this one, I trust Hori)

The most plausible option I can see happening is the second option.

To elaborate, I would like to bring up Overhaul's theory that "Quirks are a virus that came from rats that somehow got passed to humans". From then on, it had continuously mutated into more different quirks.

It is important to remember that the world of MHA didn't have quirks at the beginning, it only started with the emergence of the luminescent baby. During the beginning of these meta abilities, it's not a stretch to say that a lot of people must have seen this as a sort of defect/illness. But since more people emerged with these "abilities", the world slowly experienced a societal change. It became a place where people with quirks are the perceived normal humans and quirkless people are the outcasts.

Another point I want to bring up is the plot of MHA World Heroes' Mission. While it isn't canon, it's still intriguing to not be ignored. It revolves around the group "Humanize" that believes in the Quirk Singularity Doomsday theory. To an extent, they also believe that quirks are a disease and just like Overhaul, wishes for the eradication of quirks.

The reason I brought this up is because the only explanation I can think of why society would be willing to remove quirks is if it will be seen as something dangerous and destructive, and the closest negative words we have gotten to this are "disease/illness". (The Quirk Singularity also plays a huge part in it's removal.)

This can lead us to the question:

Will the eradication of quirks truly solve the issues of the society?

Conflict arose due to the existence of quirks. While quirks aren't inherently evil, it is a tool that can be used for evil or good. Take Spider Man's quote for example, "With great power comes with great responsibility". The thing is, all of them are given power, but not all people are responsible, not all people are willing to do good. An individual is bound to selfishly use these quirks for theirself. Also, the chaos "villains" had created is the reason why heroes (vigilantes when there still isn't a fixed system) even existed in the first place.

If so, by removing quirks (the root of the problem), then everything should be resolved. That is the plan. The problem is it wouldn't work (not now at least)

Why?

Because quirk is not the only root cause of these issues. It is also the people's views and ideologies and how everything is built and based on a fragile quirk and hero-based society.

Still, my answer to that question is yes.

You're probably wondering why. Well, it's actually simple.

Who said that "eradication of quirks" should be applied to this generation?

All people have been deeply engrossed with their quirks. It's literally a part of their life, so suddenly removing it would feel like losing a limb and likely cause fear and confusion (unless ALL are willing to remove theirs)

Besides, this generation harbors the set of people who have experienced both the terror and greatness quirks can bring. It is their right and responsibility to fix, acknowledge, and mend the wounds the "war" and "society" had inflicted upon them.

Together, both heroes, "villains", and civilians alike should help each other and reach a hand out as they start once again to rebuild a new and better society in preparation for a quirkless one.

It can also make Midoriya Izuku the perfect person to stand in the front lines and lead them as he himself had both worn the shoes of being quirkless and being a person blessed with a very powerful quirk.

Izuku, who once thought that he can't be a hero because he was quirkless, will come to realize that what makes him a true hero is his will and desire to help and save people with a smile. It would also be an impactful ending for his character and BNHA. (Since Hori loves parallels and apparently full circles I can see this happening)

It will not be a repeat like before because he wouldn't be like All Might who became the lone pillar and glue of a hero biased society.

Izuku will not be alone in his journey as he and his peers become the greatest heroes and guiding light in a beginning of a quirkless-based society.

[vampire--dad]

Let The World Come At You, Love - Part 2

Part 1

Part 3

——————

Having eaten what little they can spare from the rations the innkeeper provided, Jaskier checks over Geralt’s wounds one more time before they settle for the night. The witcher had never allowed himself to appreciate how nice Jaskier’s warm hands felt on his skin before. Now he leans into the touch, wincing slightly as Jaskier rubs a salve over a wound on his back. The bard mumbles out an apology but continues to work.

“Geralt?” he chirps. “Can I ask you something?”

The witcher has never told him much about what he went through to be who he is. Jaskier has never had the courage to ask… well, he had, once. He asked what made his eyes such a beautiful colour. Geralt didn’t speak a word to him for about three days. But now… he feels as though maybe, just maybe, he’ll tell him some of the secrets he holds. Geralt hums in affirmation, relaxing once again into Jaskier’s warm touch.

“Why are you always so cold?”

The witcher is quiet for a moment. He can’t blame him for being curious. Without a word, he gently takes the hand Jaskier rests on his shoulder and pulls it across his chest, placing it over his heart. The bard leans against Geralt’s back carefully, feeling his heartbeat against his palm. The pauses between strong thumps in his chest are eerily long.

“It’s one of the mutations,” Geralt says. “Our heartbeats are much slower than a human’s, so our bodies aren’t as warm.”

“I see…”

“Does it… bother you?”

Jaskier frowns softly and leans further over Geralt’s shoulder.

“No. Why would it bother me?” he asks gently.

Geralt pauses.

“I never told you about any of what made me… what I am because I was scared you’d think I was what they say I am.”

His voice is tinged with fear. Jaskier isn’t used to Geralt being so… vulnerable. A pair of golden eyes stare at him, filled with worry. He kisses Geralt’s temple gently and shakes his head.

“No. No, Geralt, I’d never believe what they say about you…”

The bard smiles softly and cards his fingers through snow white hair.

“Geralt, I’ll take you for all that makes you who you are, if you’ll have me.”

Geralt smiles. Jaskier’s heart melts. He rarely sees him smile.

“Well… you’ve followed me around for so many years, what difference does it make if I kiss you every now and again?” His smile only grows wider as he turns and leans over Jaskier, who laughs softly.

“I wasn’t finished, you brute,” he says with a chuckle. “You better be planning on kissing me much more often than that.”

Geralt captures Jaskier’s lips in a kiss, silencing any further complaints.

To the bard’s surprise, it’s Geralt who first suggests they share a bedroll. Truth be told, he misses having another person next to him— without having to pay for it— and Jaskier is always so delightfully warm. He can’t help himself. It’s a tight fit, but that problem is quickly solved by wrapping his arms around Jaskier and pulling him as close as he possibly can. He’s almost grateful for the lack of space on the bedroll and the need to hold him close. Jaskier doesn’t mind how cool Geralt’s skin is, it’s actually quite comforting. Sleeping next to someone as warm as you gets sweaty after a while.

They lay together quietly for a while, Jaskier gently running his fingers through the witcher’s hair, and Geralt starts to… purr. Jaskier feels it more than he hears it. His chest vibrates gently, rising and falling slowly. The bard lifts his head and props himself up on his elbow, much to Geralt’s disappointment, and it stops. Geralt’s eyes search Jaskier’s face, both confused for entirely different reasons.

“What was that?” Jaskier asks.

“What?”

It’s an involuntary response. Geralt has grown so used to it that he tends to forget that others aren’t aware of it. Half of the time he doesn’t even notice, it only really happens in his sleep, if he is comfortable enough.

“You… purred…”

“Oh. Oh, right. Witchers do that. It’s a side effect of the mutations. We can’t explain why it happens, but all of us do it.”

Jaskier looks at him incredulously.

“You… purr? Seriously?”

Geralt frowns softly.

“I can’t help it. It happens when I’m comfortable.”

The bard takes a moment to process the notion of the man sleeping next to him purring, but eventually he lays back down.

“Alright,” he says with an air of playfulness, snuggling up against Geralt again. “I suppose I can get used to it.”

Geralt chuckles and pulls the bard back into his arms, closing the space between their bodies. The bard smiles to himself. It’s endearing how affectionate a man with such a hard exterior can be. Their noses are almost touching as Jaskier shuts his eyes again. Geralt begins to purr once more and Jaskier finds comfort in the low rumbling in the witcher’s chest. It’s soothing, both the sound and the thought that Geralt is so comfortable next to him to warrant such a reaction. It doesn’t take long for him to be lulled into a deep sleep.

Jaskier wakes to find Geralt kissing along his jawline. He’s used to getting a prod in the back with a boot and a shove if that doesn’t work, but he can definitely get used to waking up to the cool feeling of Geralt’s lips tracing the curves of his face. He hums and wraps his arms around Geralt’s shoulders as he dips his head into the crook of his neck. A soft, sleepy smile spreads across his face.

“Good morning…” Jaskier says tiredly.

Geralt hums, running his hands up Jaskier’s sides and nibbling the tender skin on his neck. Jaskier is tempted, so tempted to hook his leg over Geralt’s hip and pull him closer, but the bandages wrapped tightly around his chest remind him that it wouldn’t end well. Nonetheless, he chuckles and lets his head fall back.

“You know you have to wait till I take those stitches out,” he says, earning him an impatient grumble. “I’m all yours when we reach the next town, dear heart…”

Geralt lifts his head, his voice somehow even lower and rougher in the early hours of the morning.

“What did you call me?”

“Dear heart. It’s something an old friend and I used to call each other.”

The witcher smiles softly and presses his lips to Jaskier’s forehead.

“I like it.”

It takes a while and some bickering, but the witcher eventually convinces Jaskier to get up. The bard has never liked getting up at the crack of dawn as Geralt does, but the brute insists. They break camp as the sun begins to shine through the trees, hanging low on the horizon. Geralt heaves himself onto Roach’s back as he always does and holds his hand out to Jaskier, who looks at him with confusion.

“What?”

“Take my hand. I’ll help you up.”

Jaskier narrows his eyes.

“You always told me Roach couldn’t carry the both of us,” he says, folding his arms. Geralt shrugs.

“I lied. She’s a big horse, she can carry us both. Perhaps not all the time, but she can.”

“I knew it. You’re a terrible liar.”

Jaskier shakes his head as he takes Geralt’s hand and is lifted onto the saddle. The witcher’s chest presses into his back. He slides an arm around Jaskier’s waist, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek gently. He forgets how tall Jaskier really is sometimes, but he likes that he can rest his head on his shoulder comfortably. Geralt digs his heels into Roach’s sides and she sets off at a lively pace. This is significantly better than trying to keep up with a horse with a grouchy witcher on her back. Jaskier leans against Geralt’s chest, but he’s careful not to lean too heavily into him. He doesn’t wince as much as the day before, but he can tell he’s still hurting more than he’ll ever let on.

Geralt has grown used to Jaskier’s tendency to ramble. At first he hated it. The bard was constantly talking, singing, muttering, constantly making noise, and nothing seemed to shut him up. It wasn’t until Jaskier stopped singing, when the sweet white noise Geralt had grown so used to stopped, that he realised how much he had grown to not only want, but need, his company, rambling and all. Jaskier had gotten hurt, by no fault of his own. Geralt should have known better than to think he’d be able to defend himself from an endrega with naught but a silver shortsword. He’d been silent and miserable all night from the pain. Broken ribs were never fun, he couldn’t blame him, but Geralt couldn’t stand it. Never mind blessed silence, now a world devoid of honeyed words and singing was his worst nightmare. Come to think of it, that was the night he realised how much he cared about Jaskier. From then on, he no longer ignored Jaskier’s voice but listened intently, fascinated by his verbal thought processes and finding solace in the blessed noise.

“Geralt?”

“Mmm?”

Jaskier grows tense after a moment of pause.

“You said you always knew how I felt… how?”

Geralt sighs softly, “This is going to sound strange…”

Jaskier chuckles, “Honestly, after watching you sniff trees for two days tracking a forktail, I don’t think much else will surprise me.”

“I could smell it.”

“What?”

Geralt shakes his head slightly.

“I told you it was strange. It helps to know if something is agitated while you’re tracking it, so… witchers can smell… feelings. It’s odd. But I knew when you started smelling sweeter.”

He leans over and mumbles into Jaskier’s ear with a small smirk.

“And you were never as subtle as you thought,” he teases.

Jaskier flushes with embarrassment. Geralt chuckles and kisses his cheek.

“I can’t believe you knew for all those years…”

“Don’t fret about the past,” Geralt says softly, guilt hanging low in his sweet tone. “I know I made a mistake, but I’m here now.”

They sit in silence for a while, Geralt’s arms wrapped tightly around Jaskier’s waist and his head resting on his shoulder as Roach plods through the lonely forest. He can tell that another question is on the tip of Jaskier’s tongue but he seems hesitant to ask, his shoulders tensing under his head

“Just how keen is your sense of smell,” Jaskier asks eventually, a hint of worry in his voice. If Geralt knows, then he knows what he’s asking. The witcher is quiet for a moment, lifting his head and looking out into the forest for a moment. He knows this has to stay between them.

“I know you have elven blood.”

Jaskier sighs softly.

“No one knows that. Not even my father… My mother told me when I was a boy. It’s what keeps us looking so young. Her grandmother is over a hundred now, still going as far as I know, but we keep her hidden so as to not raise suspicions. If my father ever found out…”

Geralt hums.

“Your secret is safe with me, just as mine are with you.”

Jaskier lets out a soft chuckle and his shoulders drop before he could notice they were dragged up to his neck.

“How poetic.”

They reach the next town within a few days. The townspeople watch them as they walk through the gates, Jaskier walking beside Geralt. Jaskier has grown used to the looks they get. It’s usually somewhere between fear and disgust, sometimes more of one or the other and it’s never sat well with him. The witcher doesn’t deserve such judgment. Geralt has learned to ignore it. He’s here to work, not to make friends. He stops by the stables and comes down from the horse’s back, petting her nose. He takes the pack off of her back and hands Jaskier his things. They don’t say anything, but the look in Geralt’s eyes reminds him of what they keep locked away from the world. As much as Jaskier would love to be all over Geralt, it’s safer if what they have remains hidden. Jaskier being seen as a point of weakness for the witcher could end badly.

A girl emerges from the stables and offers to take their horse, commenting on Roach’s size. Geralt hands her a few coins and the reins before setting off to the inn for a drink and a room. Jaskier follows quickly after him, his lute slung over one shoulder. The innkeeper is quick to accept Jaskier’s proposal to perform for their patrons. It pulls in some extra coin, which they could always use. He checks the tuning of his lute as the barmaid welcomes him further into the inn, running his fingers across the strings softly.

Geralt watches him from the corner, a tankard of ale in hand. As much as he adores the sound of Jaskier’s voice, the cacophony that joins him as he sings rakes on the witcher’s ears and he must admit, hearing Jaskier play ‘Toss A Coin To Your Witcher’ five times over becomes… tiresome. Even he doesn’t enjoy playing the same thing over and over, but if the crowd demands it, he must oblige. Geralt hones in on the sound of Jaskier’s sweet singing as it carries over the raucous crowd and gazes out the window, finding a surprising amount of peace in the moment.

“Maybe I should leave the bandages on, just to be safe…”

“That’d be a waste of cloth. I’m fine, Jask.”

Jaskier sighs, running his fingers over the wounds as he sits in Geralt’s lap. They’re over a week old now, the stitches removed and all but closed, but he’s still worried. Geralt places his hand over Jaskier’s, pressing his palm to his chest.

“Julek, I’m okay,” he says softly.

Jaskier is taken aback, cocking his head and gazing at the witcher skeptically.

“You’ve never called me Julek,” he mumbles.

“You don’t like it?” Geralt asks, a worried crease forming between his brows.

“No, no, I… I love it, I just didn’t think I’d hear that from you. You’ve never seemed like the type for pet names.”

Geralt smiles softly, slipping an arm around Jaskier’s waist, his eyes filled with warmth and love.

“I have plenty of pet names for you, songbird,” he says.

Jaskier laughs softly and lowers his head into Geralt’s shoulder, feeling like his chest is about to burst. He has wanted this— wanted him— for so long. Now that he has him, now that he’s dropped the stoic and grouchy act and proudly shows the softer, warmer side Jaskier has always known lay underneath, it’s almost too much. Before he knows it, tears are welling up in his eyes. He sits back with a soft laugh, trying to find the humour in how emotional he’s being. Geralt frowns.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks, wiping a tear from Jaskier’s cheek with his thumb.

“Nothing, dear heart, nothing,” Jaskier says. “And that’s just it. Everything is… perfect. You’re perfect.”

“I’m far from it,” Geralt scoffs.

“Not in my eyes.”

“Perhap you’re going blind then.”

“Geralt.”

The witcher chuckles and relents, pressing a kiss on Jaskier’s cheek.

“You’re right,” he mumbles, nosing into Jaskier’s soft hair as he rests his head on his shoulder once more. “This is perfect… I should have let this happen sooner.”

Jaskier’s fingers find his lips, silencing him before he gets the chance to wallow in his own guilt.

“Hush. We both know this could have happened sooner but it didn’t and that’s that. You said it yourself. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Geralt sighs and presses a gentle kiss to the callouses that brush over his lips. He lays back on the bed with Jaskier sprawled across his chest, holding him as close as he can. His hands roam across Jaskier’s back, tracing the surprisingly muscular swell of his shoulders, the curve of his spine, the narrow shape of his hips. They come to rest on his thighs, giving a firm squeeze as a smirk forms on the witcher’s lips.

“Now… I believe you promised me something a few days ago.”

Jaskier chuckles, propping himself up on his elbows and kissing Geralt, slow and deep.

“I did. I’m all yours.”

—————

Tags: @jaskierswolf @lovelyeskel @patchwork-doublet @feral-jaskier @in-love-with-writing002

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[firstagent]

Review- Digimon Adventure: (2020) Episode 36: Operation Satellite Sniper

In this episode, Koshiro waits until the very last minute to deal with his pet crisis in order to make sure BlitzGreymon gets a random cameo.

We interrupt your undersea hunt for the remnants of the closest thing we have to a main villain for something completely different! With the story having some direction and the intriguing Tailmon drama, the show’s flashed promise of getting its act together and giving life to these characters. So naturally it derails everything for a balls-to-the-wall action fest filled with a gratuitous Digimon appearance to appease the fanboys, a lot of screaming, and the ever-popular countdown clock of doom. All to resolve the subplot they’ve tried desperately to get us to care about the last several episodes. A surprise bit of character introspection at the end spares it from being a complete waste, but even that is riddled with problems. For someone who claims to have always preferred solitude, Koshiro sure couldn’t shut up about the International Space Station. While the occasionally amusing cut ins to Yamato, Joe, and Mimi gradually slowed down and stopped completely, every episode had to be interrupted with an update on a situation that was very far away and nobody could do anything about. Tokyo’s destruction should automatically arouse concern in anyone, but that concern is taken for granted. The characters never internalize it, nor are there shots of family members looking up in worry. With most of the real-world cutaways inside control centers, and after several previous over-the-top crises diminishing its impact, it might as well be threatening to blow up the moon.

Koshiro takes his sweet time waiting for Taichi and company to get out of the water, high-tail it over there, admire the scenery, speculate on who won a fight between ancient Digimon fossils, and listen to a long explanation of the pillar of light and why it connects to the network. If he only told Taichi “we need to go up there and fire a crack shot in the right spot at the right time,” MetalGreymon would be in the air before he finished. Even still, the only reason time becomes an issue at all is because the path goes through hostile locals again. BladeKuwagamon and MetallifeKuwagamon aren’t there to stop them from executing their plan. Most of the enemies encountered over the last ten episodes have been along this line, and in moments painted as critical as this one, it makes the show feel especially rudderless.

Even worse, they can’t even beat this token opposition! Considering how little trouble they’ve had rolling over some tough enemies, three Ultimates, Pegasmon, and Tailmon struggling against MetallifeKuwagamon and company is embarrassing. Especially when they keep two more evolutions in their pocket. That’s what makes BlitzGreymon’s appearance so meaningless. The idea of the environment affecting how a Digimon evolves holds some promise, but Koshiro poses it as some Darwinian mutation uniquely designed to get them out of this jam. Trouble is, there’s no reason to accept they were actually in a jam to begin with, at least not one that WarGreymon (and Angewomon) couldn’t have gotten them out of just as easily. Without that, BlitzGreymon’s appearance screams gratuitous cameo, just as shameless as Masaru and Taichi running in the last time MetallifeKuwagamon caused problems. The real concern should have been over random environmental effects making their evolutions unpredictable. To them, BlitzGreymon should be a cause of concern, not celebration.

Taichi makes the tactical decision to hold off the pesky residents and leave the actual shot to Koshiro. This shift in focus, and the introspection that goes with it, is the most redeeming part of the episode. Even then, the introspection is misplaced. His claim of being the quiet observer rather than the active participant in life echoes his introduction, but in no way recognizes the Koshiro we’ve experienced all this time. We’ve never seen Koshiro hiding in the corner of his class, or hesitate to speak up, or interact with his classmates or family in any way. When he’s not online being the information dealer, he’s been the same headstrong action kid all of the others are.

In fact, his constant interruptions about the crisis the last several episodes suggest someone who insists on being heard, and he’s already taken point and solved multiple problems on his own without feeling this kind of pressure. If they really wanted to call out his alleged unwillingness to deal with something by himself, they would have leaned harder on the fact that he wasted critical hours forcing Taichi to derail Tailmon’s shard hunt for a mission Koshiro had every reason to think he could have done on his own! Once again, we see everything wrong with the series on full display. Even with some promising elements like the prospect of the  environment forcing alternate evolutions and whatever was going on with those fossils, the priority on nonstop action and showcasing certain Digimon will always make even well intentioned character spots fall short.

My Grade: D+

Loose Data:

Tailmon isn’t wrong about battles happening for reasons other than good vs. evil, but it doesn’t suit her portrayal as this hardened paladin fighting for the light. Better to give this kind of commentary to someone like Piyomon as a throwback to the days when she used to do all the explaining, and let Tailmon stick to the fights that really are black and white.

In a mission that Koshiro says that the closer they get, the better chance they have, but time is preventing them from getting closer, he spends an ungodly amount of time explaining the situation. From the moment Taichi asks “Koshiro, what’s that” to evolving Agumon, they waste almost three and a half minutes. And in the end, Taichi didn’t care about any of it other than the actual objective.

One reason why it’s hard to buy the threat MetallifeKuwagamon faces is that while he’s certainly a nuisance, his lasers hit MetalGreymon and Garudamon several times and seems to have minimal effect on them.

The International Space Station weighs 450 tons and is the size of a football field. If we accept that it didn’t burn up in the atmosphere, there is no way it smashes into Tokyo Bay without causing a massive tidal wave, a searing fireball, and a blast large enough to shatter every window in Tokyo and probably level some buildings. It’s better than the alternative, but don’t pretend that wouldn’t have a devastating impact on the city.

On top of all that, at the end of the day they still destroyed the International Space Station! That is considered the single most expensive object mankind has ever created!

It’s suggested that the specific landing point was destined to be Odaiba. Of course it was.

This is now three miracle interventions in a matter of days. The suits that are watching all this have to be just as suspicious about what’s solving all these problems as they are about what’s causing them.

Knowing this series, it’s about even money right now that a future network incident will in fact threaten to blow up the moon.

See reviews of every Digimon episode at Digimon: System Restore! Support the site by joining our Patreon!

[addercharmer]

Izumi had slept next to Keigo again, he had woken just after midnight with a scream and both Izumi and Nezu had raced their way into his room to find the boy curling up as small as possible under the desk in his room. 

It took half an hour for the stoat to coax Keigo out and back into his bed, where the elder had shuffled around blankets and pillows until it felt more like a true nest. 

Nezu then had Izumi climb into the base of the bed, Keigo had quickly snuggled into her side, Nezu then climbed into the nest and settled above their heads. They had all fallen back asleep and no other nightmares had woken them. 

Izumi's inner alarm woke her and she groaned a little at the weight that was sprawled on her chest. A squeaking laugh from near her head had Izumi sighing at the fact that Nezu now would have photo evidence of them sleeping together. 

"Morning dad." Izumi croaked out, then she started to wiggle her way out from the nestling. 

"Bathroom, then we gotta talk." She tells him, there hadn't been any time the night before. Nezu had gotten an emergency call to do some analysis on a well known villain group of this time. 

Izumi stumbled to the bathroom, she emptied her bladder and washed her hands, before making the snap decision to take a shower. 

She didn't let herself linger under the spray no matter how much she wanted to, she washed her hair and put in the conditioner to soak in as she washed her body, then rinsed out the creamy substance. 

Wrapping her hair and body in towels she then scurried to her room. Izumi had no plans to do anything today unless it involved her rosefinch so she pulled on a pair of black leggings and a lightweight sweater dress. She stopped in the bathroom long enough to grab a brush and hair ties, and hang her towels up to dry. 

Skipping down the stairs Izumi was greeted with the mingling smell of coffee and tea, in the kitchen there were cereal boxes and a half liter of milk already on the table, along with bowls and spoons. 

Izumi sat quickly and combined the cereal and milk into a bowl, she dug in with a hum of enjoyment at the sugary meal. Nezu slipped a large cup of coffee on the table by her elbow before taking his own seat. 

"I didn't get to tell you, but some stuff happened at the mall." Izumi started the conversation after they had both finished their food. 

"When we got the preening brushes I suggested we look at the ones for hawks and Keigo flinched pretty hard." Nezu's eyebrows scrunched a little and he let out a hum. 

"The specialty stores for physical mutations had hardly anything for winged people, but when I was little originality my mom was friends with fashion designers...if you were okay with it I could try to make contact, they were family friends and I could maybe tell them that Inko is my sister, aunt Mitsuki never had the best memory, and if we could find and doctor some photos it would work as evidence." Izumi rambled, she was a little nervous about suggesting this, but at the same time she believed it could be good for the future if she could put herself in an older sibling or aunt role for some of her friends. 

"Good idea, what would you say about wanting to get back in contact?" Nezu asked her. 

Clearing her throat a little, Izumi thought carefully as she sipped her coffee. 

"Aunt Mitsuki has always had a huge soft spot for kids, not that anyone could tell. Inko from what her medical history says had been in and out of rehab for the last four years, it's caused a lot of problems with her mental health. It would make sense to say that you adopted me after you found me bleeding from being bullied at a foster home, and not in Inko's care." 

Izumi sighed deeply. "But that's more the in depth story, in reality I could simply explain I am Inko's sister trying to get in contact with Mitsuki because I remember she was into fashion and I need help with my newly adopted siblings wing mutation." 

"Hmmm, good good." Nezu's tea cup clacks when it's put back on the table. "Let's go braid your hair and we can work more on the back story and get those photos ready." The stoat directs already moving to the living room.

Izumi followers close on his tail, sitting in front of him after putting the hair brush and ties on the couch. She's also pulling the coffee table and her laptop closer so she can find pictures as her dad works his magic on her hair. 

"Lay out your life as Inko's sister." Nezu tells her as he starts running the brush through her hair. 

"Well, I was a sickly child, I spent most of my early life in hospital. It wasn't until I was ten that I got better, I was back in my parents care for a year and a half before the accident that took their lives happened. I was quickly placed into foster care when Inko refused to take me in, five months later you found me and adopted me. Then we can just say the truth from there. My quirk developed under extreme stress, I had a lot of healing, I finished school within six months of living with you, I have several degrees, I am a fashion disaster, and now you are adopting a severely abused boy." As Izumi speaks she's hacking through Inko's computer, phone and cloud account for photos.

Nezu is finished braiding her hair into twin tails when there are feet thumping their way down the stairs. Nezu gets up and goes to help Keigo in the kitchen as Izumi starts doctoring the photos to include her. 

She can hears dishes flatted as Nezu loads them into the dishwasher, then he's dragging a box into the kitchen, it's one of his case file boxes that he gets from the police force to help solve crimes. 

 

It takes two hours for Izumi to doctor the photos, replace the originals with hers in both Mitsuki and Inko's devices and cloud account. When she's done Keigo is just sitting down next to her with his hair and wings still wet and a towel in his hand. 

"Let me help rosefinch." She laughs lightly. 

Gently she rubs the towel through her hair, it's not as thick as her own so it takes less time to get it only damp, with his wings she carefully runs it down in the same direction that his feather go, it takes time but soon they are only slightly damp as well. 

"Give them a fluff and a shake for me." Izumi tell Keigo, she had looked up some care tips before she first went to bed last night. 

Keigo follows her direction without any hesitation, when he's done he looks like a fluffy baby bird and Izumi falls a little more in love. 

"Go get your oil and comb, I'll give you a preen before we figure out what to do today." Izumi drops the towel she had been using over Keigo's head and it earns her a laugh before the boy is sprinting away.

He's back faster than Izumi thought he would be, just before he sits again Keigo fluffs his wings and Izumi spots his hair fluffing up with the feathers, Izumi has to work hard to stop herself from laughing. 

Once the oil is in her hands and the comb is sitting on the couch between them Keigo stretches his left wing out, Izumi opens the bottle noticing it's a light vanilla scent as she posts some out into a cupped hand. 

Snapping the bottle shut again she puts it beside the comb and then runs her hands together. 

Making her hands into loose claws she starts at the joint where wing meets skin, she takes her fingers through the feathers twice just to be sure she has them all coated before moving on to the rest with the same care. Izumi needs to recoat her hands with oil three more times before the whole wing is finished. 

Next she picks up a wide toothed wooden comb and starts to drag it through the feathers again, realigning any with her free hand as she goes. Izumi does this twice before she and Keigo switch sides to do the right wing. 

The longer Izumi presents Keigo's feathers the more relaxed he becomes, little chirps and coos leaving him. 

"All done." Izumi tells Keigo, she hands him back the preening items and gets up herself to clean off her hands. 

"Nee-chan, what are we going to do today?" Keigo asked Izumi from the stairs. 

"What do you want to do?" Izumi asks right back, as she starts pulling out things to make sandwiches. "Lunch first though. You too dad." 

Izumi quickly puts the sandwiches together and on one big plate. Keigo had come and grabbed smaller plates for each of them to use. 

"Can we play a game after?" Keigo asks as he grabs a sandwich. 

"What kind of game? I know my friends picked a few out, those should be in your room. But we can go outside too." Izumi eyes Nezu who still hadn't taken a sandwich, as he hits to reach for another paper Izumi taps his paw and pointed looks at the food. 

"Really?" Keigo asks, sounding more excited about being outside than he had about playing a game. 

"Mmmyep, I even know where the park is." Izumi tries to sweeten the deal, and with all the cyber stalking she has done on Endeavour she knows that Rei takes the kids there every Sunday afternoon. 

Nezu must hear something in her voice that has his head snapping towards her, she lets her grin turn a little feral. 

"Mmm dad will even come, I saw a family there, two children had ice quirks and one had a really powerful fire quirk, the fire user looks about your age." Nezu's answering toothy grin is enough for Izumi to know she was understood. 

"I haven't been to the park since I was taken." Keigo says with a sad sniffle. 

"Why don't we make it even better and I can invite my friends too, then you can meet Oboro and Nemuri." Izumi offers, she knows that it's going to be hard, Keigo had been deprived of so much that everything was going to be a new experience again. 

"Shō-nii and Zashi-nii?" Keigo perks up a little, and Izumi is so happy that her little rosefinch liked them. 

"Yep!" Izumi says back just as chipper. "I just have to message them and ask, dad has to clean up his papers and the dishes."

Mouse?Bear?Human?: My rosefinch hasn't been to the park since the commission took him, he would like to play with you all. 

IBreakGlass: be there in under 2 hours gotta finish my chores ಥﭛಥ

FemFatale: shō and I will be there in 30

LoudAssCloud: u sure? 

                           : I just mean what if were 2 much?

Mouse?Bear?Human?: He will be fine, he loves Zashi and Shō. 

                                        : He's already dubbed them Zashi-nii and Shō-nii, and I'm sure you will be Obo-nii soon enough. 

LoudAssCloud: (　-_･) ︻デ═一 ▸

                           : (*ฅ́˘ฅ̀*) .｡.:*♡

                           : be there when I can

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