#I have to have piss as a reinforcement trigger

[gonzodangerfeels]

She's like, come on I know you wanna see it...

you told me all of last fall

[inglourious-imagines]

practically begging for some george luz w/ enemies to lovers. everyone always writes amazing friends to lovers but there’s sm potential w e2l !!! love ur writing btw xx

Jokes on You (George Luz x Fem!Reader)

Requested by: anon

Summary: George Luz is a funny guy, there is absolutely no denying that. He likes making jokes, and he likes it even more when people laugh at them. So what happens when there comes a person who makes just as good jokes as George? Or maybe even better? Some enemies to lovers for y’all.

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars @nixoninc

Warnings: like two swear words, angst in the form of Bastogne

A/N: I so suck at endings.

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Cracking jokes and making people laugh is George’s thing and his only, that’s how it’s always been. He is the funny guy in the group, that’s how he likes to define himself, the funny one. But to define is to limit and George has made the mistake of limiting himself to clinging to one particular personality trait, humour.

And then Y/N came along; about four months into the boot camp Y/N got reassigned from Dog Company to Easy Company for reasons no one knew, except for Lewis Nixon perhaps. George did not start hating her per say right from the moment he met her, but ever since she beat him to the joke when watching his favourite movie he’s strongly despised her. From then on, the feelings only got stronger; she’s always making the whole Company laugh, some of the jokes even on his account which George does not like one bit, hell she even managed to make Blithe chuckle that one day after D-Day.

Y/N had no idea what she triggered by her naturally jokester nature until she had to face a very pissed off George after she blabbed some joke about some actress and then a very pissed off George is the only kind of George she has had the privilege of meeting. The woman has pondered greatly about what she could have possibly done to anger the man so, but nothing came to mind and she soon gave up. George continued and stubbornly continues to be rude to her so she should only repay his “kindness”.

After Carentan, the word of Operation Market Garden is in the air and the Allies are particularly optimistic. Easy is in the pub, celebrating its successes in the war, while some reinforcements are trying to mingle. Y/N is watching it all from behind, the old breed not wanting to socialize with the newbies at all and sometimes the situations can get truly hilarious.

Somehow, in a few minutes, she finds herself behind a table with Luz, Malarkey, Muck and other three reinforcements who are just drinking up George’s story about his valour in Normandy. Her lips itch upwards from now and then, George’s drunkenness making it all the more amusing. Y/N can tell the new guys are impressed and somewhat terrified as well and one of them puts a pin on it when he asks Luz, “And what rank are you?”

The table sits in silence for a moment, for absolutely no one expected such question, not even the other reinforcements, then Malarkey and Muck burst out laughing, almost tipping over their beers.

Y/N chuckles, reaches over, and pats the guy’s arm. “Oh c’mon, it is Private!”

That absolutely finishes off Don and Skip, Skip eventually falls off his chair, the reinforcements are now laughing too; the mood slightly more friendly and at ease than before. Not for everyone though.

George is red to his ears, as he frowns. “The joke wasn’t that good. And it’s not even true.”

Donald is hiccupping now but manages to answer, “A- a bit c- corny, yes, but f-fucking b-brilliant.”

***

At this point the Company is divided into two parts only, one part bets on the two of them killing each other and the other parts bets on them fucking; which it will be is truly in the stars for George and Y/N are face to face again, both of them red in the cheeks from all the anger, both of them shouting some incoherent insults, and as Penkala has put it, “See? Honestly I can really see both happening. They will either kill each other or fuck, there is absolutely nothing in between.”

But then Market Garden happens, an underestimated operation, that leaves behind too many dead than it should and when all of Easy is boarded on trucks, retreating, the company is two people short.

Bull Randleman and Y/N Y/L/N.

The officers discuss what can be done, and despite all of the men wanting to go and save the two of the best soldiers in the company, they know they can’t. And exactly that is making George Luz lose his mind. He can’t really understand why he is so restless, anxious, and downright terrified throughout the whole night; he tosses and turns, he is not able to bring himself to close his eyes.

But then in the morning he sees Y/N on the jeep next to Bull and suddenly he feels like he could fly and go to Berlin and kill Hitler, just so he could see the carefree smile on her face.

It clicks in him just then, and Malarkey pats his shoulder. “So, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”

George turns to him, confused. “What?”

Malarkey laughs, shaking his head, and says, “Don’t play dumb with me, you idiot, I saw it just now.”

As much as George would like to answer his friend, he truly has no idea what he is talking about, and when that dawns on Donald, he offers George a sympathetic smile.

“Okay, let me put your thoughts to words, ‘cause you’re such an oblivious idiot that you probably wouldn’t figure it out by the time this motherfucking war is over,” Malarkey continues, “you don’t hate her, do you, not really.”

It is not even a question, more of a statement, and George really wants to protest, more than anything, because it is ridiculous, right?

***

The plan to be home by Christmas isn’t really working out for the Allies but the soldiers of Easy Company have already forgotten about those false hopes, they aren’t the ones to be bothered with when you freeze your ass off in a foxhole in the middle of a forest where the trees blow up every now and then and the place becomes a tornado.

Y/N shares a foxhole with Muck and Penkala, the trio trying to lighten up their gloomy moods with laughter. But even Y/N is running out of jokes now, so when doc Roe runs up to them, asking for scissors, she’s more than happy to go look for them with him too, the need to stretch her stiff and frozen body overpowering her whole self.

She’s just a couple of meters away from her foxhole when another German artillery attack comes and the whole forest becomes a hurricane of explosions, splinters, and blood. The soldier throws herself to the ground, crawling her way, slowly, back to her foxhole, Muck and Penkala shouting something at her she can’t hear, encouraging her to hurry up.

Dirt is everywhere, she barely can see, she covers her ears and head with her hands as another hit comes; she continues right after the explosion, crawling, crawling, crawling.

Muck and Penkala are still shouting at her, she is getting closer; Y/N can hear another artillery attack coming but this time she doesn’t stop proceeding, she knows she has to get into the foxhole soon, so she keeps on pushing.

The explosion comes. Everything goes white for a moment. The pressure wave makes her stop moving, and she is forced to close her eyes and cover her head with her hands.

She opens her eyes. There is nothing.

Seconds ago, there were two people, now there is nothing, nothing left, not a single trace that there have ever human beings stood.

Y/N can’t bring herself to move, she stares blankly into the space before her, her limbs are stiff. But then some arms grab her body, she can hear someone shouting at her.

3 seconds. That’s all it takes her to get back. She holds on to George’s arms as they run together to another foxhole, jumping right in. He immediately brings her into his body, she wraps her arms around his torso instinctively, holding onto him so tight, her head resting on his chest. George shields her body from everything outside and when the bombing finally stops, they don’t let go of each other for another few moments.

It isn’t until a few years after the war and they are married to each other, when they finally talk about what happened that day in the forest of Bois Jacques, not a day sooner. Ever since then, their relationship has been changed, both very much aware of it, neither of them brave enough to bring it up just yet.

It is in Haguenau, where they finally share a conversation. George finds her on her own, behind some building, hiding behind some sacks, looking at the river. He throws a Hershey bar into her lap and when she looks up in confusion, he offers her a warm tired smile.

“What did I do to deserve the affection of the one and only George Luz?” she tries to crack up a joke and chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. George knows Y/N is exhausted beyond words.

He sits down next to her, as he opens his mouth to say something, but he rethinks it in the last second and nothing comes out. They sit out there for a few minutes, sharing the silence and strangely enough, it feels nice. George finally does not feel the need to talk all the time, the need to prove himself funny or worthy of other people’s attention.

“Have you ever been to Rhode Island?” he suddenly blurts out, surprising himself and her at the choice of the question.

Y/N smiles, doesn’t ask why or what. “No, never.”

“Then come with me.”

This time she asks what.

“After the war I mean, come home after the war with me.”

“But- but, you-“ she stutters, her cheeks slightly red, “but you hate me.”

George chuckles at that and looks at her. She has bags under her eyes that are a bit bloodshot (she hasn’t slept much in the last few days), her hair is dirty from dirt and sweat, her face has several scratches and marks, his eyes finds the most visible one just below her left cheekbone (he recalls that day in Carentan when a piece of shrapnel hit her and the wound looked way worse then it actually was for she had blood all over her left side of face, freaking out silently has never been so hard – he hadn’t known at that time what will come). He has never seen anything to maddeningly and purely beautiful as her.

“I thought I did, a very long time ago,” he says, “but actually I never did. I don’t hate you. How could I?”

Y/N looks at him and through all the pain, horror, and grief, she feels peace. It surprises her.

And so she responds, “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I will come home with you. How could I not?”

[ananke-xiii]

Rowena and the thick, bloody umbilical cord between choices and faults.

In a previous post of mine I’ve explored a little bit how Mary and Kelly represent a sort of “missed opportunity” for, respectively, Sam and Jack.

At the beginning of s13 Sam resents the fact that he hasn’t been proactive in seeking to create a relationship with his mother and now that she’s (presumably) gone he doesn’t want to deal with that reality. He had wasted his second chance. Jack, on the other hand, never even had a first opportunity to begin with but, unlike Sam, has experienced a sense of unity with his mother so extreme that one of the first things that he tells Sam is that he was his mother(!!!).

S13 reinforces the Mother-Son symbolism because, after Jack’s birth, a rift is opened in space (apparently not in time?): Kelly stays (dead, rip girl I love you) on one side of it while Mary crosses it and finds herself in Apocalypse World. To make things even more clear, this is no random parallel universe: this is the alternate reality where Mary didn’t deal with Azazel. So mothers and their choices/faults are a central theme in this season. Or, well, more or less.

To complete the mothers’ trimurti or, better, tridevi we’re missing the final mother, the destroyer who is, of course, Rowena. It’s therefore quite apt that Rowena reaches her highest potential this season and even confronts Death. What motivates her in an interesting blend of (missing)love and (lacking)power. Lucifer is as part of her story as Kelly’s and Mary’s. Unlike these two, though, she doesn’t have a son who resurrects her, nor a turned-benefactor cosmic being who offers her resurrection as a gift to her son. Rowena has to resurrect herself. Not once but twice. She is, perhaps, the loneliest character in the whole series.

This is actually quite ironic because, if we look back on previous seasons, her “choice” to kill Oskar, her putative son, was what triggered the whole chain of events (the freeing of Amara first and Lucifer second) that directly link Rowena with Mary and Kelly.

It’s only natural, then, that s13 Rowena keeps representing the reversal of the Mary and Sam/ Kelly and Jack relationships because there is no son who’s looking for her, rather she is the mother who’s looking for her (dead) child. Like Sam, she also needs someone who can access another dimension to bring Crowley back but, unlike him, she’s not successful. Now, ngl, this pisses me off to no end, like of course I can understand the real reasons why Crowley couldn’t be brought back, still I kinda hate how it was narratively framed.

When, in "Funeralia", Rowena says that life is unfair she is right but not in the general, pessimistic sense of the phrase: she's right because in-universe some deaths are more important than others and people get back on board depending on whether or not they're still a role to play for them. Rowena's faith in magic is actually justified because magic is the only thing that can help her. And the tragic thing is that it's also what damns her in the process because it's the only form of power she can have access to. There are no angels or cosmic entities looking out for her. She's just... alone.

So, perhaps, it's not that I necessarily hate how her failure to bring Crowley back is described, I just see it as further proof that Rowena is the best example to show how in Supernatural the game is rigged from the beginning and we didn’t even need an interfering and pervy God to realize it. That's all we've been seeing it since S1. All those infinite, booooring talks about being good/evil or doing good/bad actually mean nothing because, at the end of the day, in this show what really matters is how useful you can be, to whom and why (and this is way less booooring, you learn a lot of interesting things about these characters if you go down this road, it's grim but it's more rewarding).

S13 is also when the final connection between Rowena and the Winchesters, Sam to be more precise, is established which is indicative of the fact that she will inevitably die. Before S13 her story was her own, after “Funeralia” it cannot be extricated from Sam’s. To some degree, it’s quite similar to what happened with Crowley and Dean. What’s more, just like Crowley’s powers and shrewdness are what really carry the plot from s6 to s12, magic and spells (and therefore Rowena’s role in the story) will be the key for many plot points from s13 to s15. But there is a big difference.

Both Crowley and Rowena’s sacrifices are described as heroic but, let’s be honest, only Rowena’s was. Crowley’s demise was a clean-up after his own mess at best. It also proved to be unnecessary. Rowena and that awful MBOL’s egg thingy would have managed to confine Lucifer, like, they actually did it. It was Crowley who perverted the spell for reasons that I personally find OOC. I would’ve liked the Crowley vs Lucifer power struggle but not the way it was done in s12 because it felt very nonsensical to me. As in: I can see you need a reason to keep Lucifer around and this is what you’ve come up with but it’s still quite illogical.

At its hidden and secret core S13 is the season of the “let’s reframe the sons’ stories and blame it on the mothers”. Just like Kelly is blamed for Castiel’s ideal vision of Jack and Mary’s "choice" is established as the most important point in the whole show, Rowena-as-Mother must face the same fate: it was her fault if Crowley, Fergus!, ended the way he ended. It’s a naaaaaaaaaaaaaah for me.

This is what we’re told in “Funeralia”:

Rowena: Oh, but it is. Death has something I want. Sam: What’s that? Rowena: My son. After you told me he was gone, how he died, I had an unexpected reaction. We had our differences, but it’s my fault he went down the path he did. I left him. Dean: We’re talking about Crowley-- demon, King of Hell? Rowena: We’re talking about Fergus-- a man abandoned and loveless, tricked by a demon, died in a gutter. He deserved better from the world. From me.

Now, just to be clear: yes, Rowena had the responsibility to do better; yes, she was the absolute worst; yes, she played no small role in her son’s story. However, I personally don’t like all these negative associations between “worlds” and “mothers” as if every fucking thing in the universe is dependent solely on them. How did we end up here? It’s almost as if absent fathers are, like, not THAT bad after all (and the show, as far as I'm concerned, ultimately approves of and absolves absent fathers). So I’m very suspicious of the way motherhood is portrayed specifically in s13 and Rowena’s attempt at redemption well demonstrates that there is reason to be so.

This dialogue in “Funeralia” confirms my gut feeling:

Sam: You know, what happened with Crowley? That wasn’t your fault. Rowena: He never had a chance. Dean: He made his choices, just like we all do. Look, every one of us has done something that we have to live with, that were trying to make up for. Every one of us. Sam: Even without all that extra juice, you’re still the deadliest witch around [Sam's flattering Rowena. He's gonna ask for her help in 3,2,1...]. Rowena: Flatterer. Sam: Yeah, well, we, um... we may need your help [Here we go!]. To save our family. To… hell, to save the world. Dean: You wanna be redeemed? This would be a pretty big step. Rowena: And do you think I still can be? Dean: Yeah, I do.

I mean, not to be rude, but who the fuck cares if Dean Winchester thinks that Rowena can be redeemed? Like, how is Rowena’s redemption (which is strictly connected to her being a bad mother and not, among other things, a zero-regret murderer, which she also happens to be, for instance) connected to saving the Winchester’s family? Don’t get me wrong, I understand that this is SPN and that Sam and Dean’s problems are Apocalypse-level problems (lol, they really did that, when I say that their story is like a cosmogony maybe I’m not that wrong) but, as I’ve said, I cannot help but notice the similarities between Rowena’s arc this season with Mary’s and Jack’s, i.e. you can be redeemed if you either do something useful for the Winchesters or... realize that it's not your "fault" that your sons suffered terribily because "choosing" to deal with Azazel was actually the right choice... for the world. How come fathers saving the world are framed as heroic while mothers actively creating worlds by making hard choices that benefit the greater good need redemption?

So to sum up: while fathers invade S13’s main storyline as solvers, restorers and fixers, mothers are the bones of the story, they carry its weight and its sins but get little if nothing in return: Kelly stays dead, Mary ends up helping out a world that absolves her of her Original Sin but that’s nevertheless a mess (you can never win lol) and Rowena can’t get her son back (but she can save Sam and Dean's family the world!). Looks good, right? Hurray mommy!

[purple-obsidian]

Your fic and your Ak Jason man, aaaaaauuughhh it's getting the brainrot even harder

I wanted to know your take on your ak Jason with a reader that treats him with the most gentle touch, the sweetest words (probably a reader with a savior complex). Cause I got the picture of Jason being defensive as hell as he feels like some kind of 'healing project' for reader or a charity case

thank you, my dearest anon <3 I am so happy that you enjoy!

i think you’re right, jay would get defensive and possibly angry at reader if he felt like he was being treated like a charity case. he’s very much in a state of mind where he’s trying to restore his dignity [after joker stripped him of it, to put it lightly.] I don’t think jason is the type to care too much about what others think, but he does, at this point, demand respect from his men and reader, even if he doesn’t give respect back. so being coddled or infantalized has the potential of pissing him off.

but in the same breath, i think jason would secretly enjoy being doted on in such a way. in my own au/storyline, i imagine him and reader were dating before he died, but they were like 16 or 17, super young and still in the honeymoon stage. they never really fought a whole lot, every real memory jason has of reader is a good one, filled with the excitement of being desired by someone for the first time and reciprocating love. having reader be extra gentle and accommodating to him and his needs would reinforce that idealized image of her in his head, and make him feel even safer with her.

the reoccurring theme here is the back and forth, the mood swings, the instability of his mental state and ego.

a lot of his reaction would depend on the context. in front of his goons or other criminals, he would be embarrassed and pissed at reader if they were to be all sweet and gentle with him. [in ‘say it back’, I briefly referenced a time where reader told jason she loved him in front of his militia and he just laughed at her, same energy here.]

if they were alone, i think he would tolerate it or even play along until reader said something to set him off. in ‘let go’, we see him stay calm and level-headed while reader is patching him up, but as soon as she challenges him and his way of thinking, he’s triggered and has an extremely emotional response.

i didn’t want portray reader in that ‘savior complex’ way, though. thats one of the struggles for me with doing reader inserts instead of oc’s. for complex storylines like this, it’s hard to not imbue reader with some personality or assume what they would do. but i wanted to show that reader is also very much at war within herself, knowing jason’s treatment of her is wrong but being so in love with him and worried for his well-being that she can’t bring herself to abandon him, even if it would be well within her right to do so.

remember, jason was robin. the best of the best. a shining star among the ever-growing darkness that is gotham. he used to be her hero, everyone’s hero, and she still sees him in that light, and hopes he will find himself, hopes that her love and support will be enough to fill the dark void in his heart. not because she sees herself as his savior, but because she knows jason won’t let anyone else get close to him or help him, and she just wants him to be happy. which is why i am trying to write her as extremely tolerant but still confident enough to challenge him or correct him on things. she wants to remind him who he is, and encourage him to be better. she’s also, of course, somewhat scared of him now too, which brings up a whole other topic. i have another ask in my inbox talking about that so i’ll save it for later.

tldr; having reader be extra gentle and sweet with him would probably confuse his emotions even more, adding to his ups and downs, resulting in more yelling but also open him up to some more moments of vulnerability. deep down he craves such gentleness, but he struggles with allowing himself to accept it because of his deep-seeded insecurities that were exacerbated by jokers torture and manipulation.

thanks for the ask!

xoxo sid

[blubushie]

your complaints about intersex pyro made me feel a little less insane because i think my most controversial tf2 take is that i genuinely see pyro as a cis male. idk why people get so salty and insist that nonbinary/intersex/etc pyro is law when his teammates only ever refer to him with male pronouns lmao. imo tumblr still has alot of backwards ideas of gender/sex, which is evident by the way they still perpetuate many stereotypes but in a "woke" way. oh, masked character whose face we never see and who often gets dehumanized by his coworkers? must be an it/they/whatever

I've never worked out in my head what Pyro is (honestly to me it doesn't really matter, Pyro is Pyro) except what he ISN'T, and that is intersex because I'm a grumpy, spiteful little intersex man who doesn't want representation if that representation is just enforcing shitty stereotypes.

I still use masculine pronouns for him though since it's what everyone else uses including Miss Pauling, and considering how he handled Soldier crossing boundaries in the comic (lopping off his hand) I don't reckon he'd have any issue enforcing his desired pronouns if he didn't use masculine ones. But nah yeah the whole "dehumanised masked character MUST be intersex" thing pisses me the fuck off. Like we aren't dehumanised enough. Like we aren't told to be ashamed of our bodies and change or hide them enough.

I also don't like "Pyro is covered in burn scars and wears his suit to hide them" headcanons for this reason tbh. I don't think scars are anything to be ashamed of, I don't think they should be hidden so as not to trigger people or whatever, and I don't think that reinforcing a stereotype of "character covers their scars because they're self conscious" helps burn victims to not be self conscious. I think it's just a dick move and tone deaf. I think if anything it encourages people who cover themselves out of insecurity or fear of copping shit to continue doing that. Signed a burn victim (who does cover his scar because he's insecure about it)—this shit doesn't help. Just reinforces that I have something to be ashamed about regarding my body.

[simplegenius042]

Late WIP Wednesday + Last Sentence

Sharing a snippet of The True Sinners. As well as a last sentence of What Are The Chances, in which John and Jacob get lost while going to have a meeting with Joseph and Faith in the woods.

Tagged by @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @g0dspeeed and @wrathfulrook

Tagging @shallow-gravy @strangefable @voidika @poisonedtruth @derelictheretic @jillvalentinesday @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @chazz-anova @ec-10 @vampireninjabunnies-blog @a-rose-in-a-garden-of-weeds @neverthesameneveranother @snake-in-the-garden @henbased @ladyofedens-blog @little-wolf-seed @deputy-morgan-malone @deputyash and @strafethesesinners + anyone else who wishes to join in.

WIP snippets under the cut.

Finally got a WIP snippet of The True Sinners to share. Presented below... some of Silva's thoughts before Jacob shows off introduces her to John (a meeting which will go about as well as expected when published):

[Trigger Warning: Mentioned kidnapping and being held captive against will. Nothing explicitly detailed though. Also some subtle obsessiveness coming from our beloved eldest Seed]

Jacob opened the door that led out to the courtyard of the hospital, holding it back for her to walk through, gesturing outside with a short jerk of his head. A chivalrous act that often never failed to lift Silva's mood coming from anybody else.

It was the kind of consideration that Silva had admired in Paul, before he changed. A courtesy that Kamski never bothered to adopt, either believing that he shouldn't waste his strength on opening a door for someone when they also have arms or because everyone was on his shitlist for one reason and another.

The amount of doors she's had to stop from slamming against her face when following behind him was more than the number of people she's killed. Though that might change soon, she noted, glaring at the ginger as she passed him and his small smirk.

She fought the impulse to thank the man, and deterred herself from outright stabbing the man with what ever she could find, as a thoughtful act she would find generous being reduced to an unspoken and mocking jab at her captivity by Jacob pissed her off to no end.

The courtyard was exactly how it had been left during her attempted escape; the dirt paths that spiraled around the center, tire tracks indented into the ground, evidence of years of vehicles coming in and out of the hospital's grounds. The fountain was void of water just as the grass was dry with little colour left, and the flowers that did grow were strangled by weeds. The brick walls, erect high and surrounding Jacob's fortress, was enough to dissuade any thought of escape, an intentional psychological tactic reinforced by the looming iron gates, which unlike yesterday, were closed. To add to insult, there were more Chosen on the grounds, some in guard posts while others supervised their captives trapped in the cages she had once been in, as well as the recruits training.

More evidence that yesterday was a fluke I fell way too hard in.

The only major difference from yesterday was the grey car with two dark stripes going from the hood to the back that was parked at the side of the fountain. An opportunity for escape? It was tempting, but she knew better. After yesterday, she couldn't afford underestimating Jacob.

"Better luck with cracks and loose screws than with open doors, piccolo boa," the advice Paul had once told her rang through her head, and she hated the heartache that came with it. Shaking away the bitter emotions, she focused on what was ahead.

She could see Alexander talking to the car's owner, or at least, the owner talking to Alexander, as he seemed to be barely listening. In fact, Jacob's second-in-command seemed to be doing his best in droning out the words of the man.

Silva could see a short-haired blonde woman in similar attire to Alexander, if only less vibrant, speaking to some other Chosen she seemed familiar with.

Silva could deduce that she came with Alexander's terrible conversationalist, having never seen the woman in her captivity.

"Thinking you can dispatch my brother and his femme fatale?" Jacob asked behind her. Silva could imagine that he was hulking over her in height, if only by a few lucky inches. Some would see it as a disadvantage, but she knew there were benefits she could use against a taller enemy.

Despite this, Silva had bemoaned over not inheriting Father's tall genes after encountering foes whose height were unfairly above average, though she would never be caught dead in admitting this wish.

Silva scoffed at Jacob's words, shaking her head. He hummed, and said with an irritably pleased tone, "Yeah, I knew you were smarter than that pup."

She sneered at the words, but didn't turn to give him the satisfaction of seeing her reaction.

A large hand planted itself on her shoulder and urged her forwards, towards their guests, "Now c'mon. John's gonna need to have words with ya."

"About?" Silva asked, grey eyes glancing to look at his blue, legs forcibly moving forwards. Though from his stoic expression, she knew better than to expect a straight answer.

"You'll see," he replied, and she swore she could see his lips almost curl upwards into a smirk.

Looking towards this "John" as they approached him and Alexander, Silva privately stewed in frustration over Jacob's words. Cease your deceptive games you vague shit.

Last sentence for What Are The Chances? an alternate universe WIP set in a timeline where Silva became the Judge from FCND pre- and during the events of FC5. In this scenario, John and Jacob are lost. And yes... it's all John's fault:

Jacob had never once thought that any harm to come to his brothers would be deserved. However, after his insistent complaining, Jacob could not help but be amused by John swatting a branch away, only for it to recoil and smack him in the face. With gritted teeth, his younger brother asked, "How did we "miss a turn"? And better yet, how come we haven't found our way out of here? One would think you knew the county's layout like the back of your hand, Jacob?"

Face and voice neutral as he continued forward, Jacob answered his younger brother, "I know the mountains terrain John, and some of the valley's. I never once touched the woodlands in the Henbane. That was the Chosen's job to report to Faith about. And you were the one holding the map and giving directions in the car. You tell me."

[archivedhellahell]

@pyramultimuse

The priest rolled his eyes and shook his head in denial when he heard that answer. He was in his bed reading a book calmly before he felt the other's presence. Which obviously already disturbed his nightly rest. "Other than wanting to ruin my night with your rhetorical question? I really wonder what?" He continued to sit on the bed not even bothering to get up. Sephiroth still pissed him off more than anything.

"I won't even ask how you got in here... Since I have magic barriers triggered as soon as I close this door. But it was good anyway. That way I know anyone can still get in here. I'll let Alice know to reinforce the barriers . Maybe that way I have some peace."

He adjusts his glasses before returning his attention to his book. "So are you going to tell me what you came here to do specifically or what?"

[kermitmentality]

today we had a kahoot about €ds at school to do. the whole school did it

as i was completing it, i was relieved at first because i thought it was going to be well made and just statistics

but it got worse, to the point where i could see questions being triggering, reinforcing reason to starve oneself, and giving a guidebook for how to have an €d. one was also incorrect

i am very very angry at my school counselor for not looking thru it before releasing it (apparently he didn’t even know some of the answers)

but i am more angry with the student who made the kahoot, who was an ex best friend of mine who had an €d

she should know fucking better than anyone else not to put those questions but she did and i am in disbelief. i have never been happier that i am no longer her friend

i want to say something to the school counselor so he never uses it again. but i denied to him multiple times that i had an €d. so if i go and am so angry he may be suspicious, esp if i know what is triggering

it scared me enough to have to go to my other friend (with an €d) after and ask if they were okay even though i was pretty much outing myself as an €der

anyways i am pissed

[thepariahcontinuum]

A cape with superfast running, where their visibility, audibility, and tangibility increase with speed.

While unmoving, they are invisible, inaudible, and intangible. While moving very slowly, they have some presence in the world, but can still do stealth and slip through some materials. While at a fast-walking pace, they are normal. While at their top speed, they are so visible their colours are oversaturated and seem to emit blindingly bright light, so loud their footfalls can shatter glass at short range and their yell can be heard across several kilometres, and so tangible they have a minor brute rating.

This power extends to whatever they're wearing and carrying.

They don't have to be at top speed. For example, half-speed is very bright, loud, and present, but not damaging to those around them.

Sorry for taking so long to get around to this, I had ideas as soon as I saw it; but it was a busy day.

Okay so it's a Mover with a Brute sub-class (Also arguably a pseudo shaker/blaster depending on range and application) but something about this made me think of a mental trigger, the kind of stresses that would normally create a Thinker.

I'm thinking very specific mental stress that was tied to and during a physical activity.

Specifically, this is a Ward age cape; a black mid growing up in Brockton Bay and an athlete (They might even know Sophia outside of the Wards if they go to Winslow).

Brockton Bay is not safe for them and they know that, it's proven every single day and there's no black gang that's really a competitor for E88 or ABB offering protection....Not that this kid would take it. They're poor, a star athlete for whatever teams they're on and straight A student raised by parents who are controlling and demanding who routinely reinforce the idea that it will never be enough because they will have to work twice as hard as a white kid to get half as far and the sad part is that they're parents are right and they know it.

There was a chance to get out, full scholarship through a sports team and talent scouts were watching; everything was riding on it....And they just couldn't deliver, they were more nervous than they'd ever been in their life and they cracked.

Their power is a manifestation of two conflicting needs: To be seen being incredible and exceptional, but also to just get away

They joined the Wards, because of course they did. Anything else would be letting their family down; transferred to Arcadia (Pissing off Sophia and leaving her as the only Ward in Winslow again) and managed.tk find their niche within the team really well despite the limitations of their power, they're fit enough to keep moving so that they're never actually fully invisible or intangible....Also fuck it, the team they were on was the basketball team, just because Dean introducing them to Victoria would be great.

Costume wise.... Something that's a cross between classic cape and team jersey (Also, definitely hi-tops, sponsored....Maybe go full Miles Morales and give em some Jordan 1s) in colours that are deliberately muted, but also an homage to a team in Brockton Bay; the dull pallette makes the moment they kick their powers into gear all the more eye-catching.

Outside of the usual patrol duties that Wards are limited to as much as possible they're used as a rapid response heavy hitter that's sort of a mix of Triumph and Glory Girl in a weird way.....Come in screaming and glowing to disorient them and then shoulder-check the nearest brute or striker at high speed, but then they need time to build it up again, provided they're not out of breath or stunned from an impact that left them open to a counter.

Also they combo really well with Vista with a trick they call the "Infinite runway".

As for their Cape name....A glowing mover who was a Basketball team "All-Star"

[totentnz]

V, #14 😈

Dark OC Asks

14. What is your OC's "villain song"?

now there is at least two answers for this, i have many many thoughts on the topics and i hope i can get em all out lmao

IM BETTER

i LOVE a good joker arc, some defining moment in a characters life that just breaks or changes them in some way, this doesn't fully happen for v but she stands on the precipice plenty of times.

namely the vdb debacle and when she gains control of the blackwall via songbird. (there might be more but it's been a minute since i properly played)

now what do these two instances have in common? netrunning/ hacking. this song (and others like it) always get me thinking about v getting lost in the power she holds with her quickhacks.

a cyberdeck wasn't even her first choice, she wanted berserk in combination with gorilla arms but viktor refuses to install them for her. she could go to a different ripper to get them obviously but he's the only doc she trusts and who won't rat her out to the authorities for having cracked soft. (this explanation is a bit underbaked i will admit) she also knows he's lowkey right, she cannot be trusted with that kind of chrome.

now one could argue that being able to kill people via command does more damage than a pissed off ape but maybe she can control herself better than vik gives her credit for. or maybe he's not too familiar with netrunning/ hacking.

there is also the aspect of v knowing exactly what happens when she uses a hack, she wrote the code herself. (i'm not saying she invented them but they are her own versions, either written from scratch or modified some way)

my favourite example for this is the suicide quickhack: v takes control of the target for a few moments, she has to raise the gun, she has to pull the trigger, she has to leave the person's consciousness before they die but not too early or they will flinch away at the last moment. she doesn't die if she stays too long but the repercussions can be dire anyway: she passes out, there is psychological damage etc. if the target is right and she executes it well it can be pretty fun though, sort of like playing russian roulette but without dying.

but to get back on topic: i LOVE the mental image of her just standing in the middle of a bunch of enemies, activating overclock to wreak havoc on them AND herself.

i also enjoy copy-paste - she makes herself an easy target for another runner just to pull this out of her sleeve and fuck them over so much more, she simply IS better.

this mindset is also reflected in her aversion to chrome, she doesn't need it or rather she doesn't want it. she is better than them, she is built different. now that is simply not true, she can tell herself that lie as often as she likes but she needs cyberware to keep up. (i actually have a background story for this, maybe i will even write it one day)

so she slowly begins to betray herself: she replaces her glass eye with kiroshis, she installs extra ram, she gets the reinforced tendons. these changes come slowly and her body is still mostly ganic by the end of the game but in quiet moments she hates herself for caving in and for enjoying it.

ultimately: power corrupts, nobody is immune to that.

EAT THE CHILDREN

any otep song tbh, since it's the band i chose to use for rotten (her band) and v turns into the worst version of herself when she's on stage. it's one of the reasons she decided to end the band in the first place, though everyone involved just thinks she was being asshole (they ain't wrong)

her whole band era was a double edged sword, on one hand she finally had a voice and was adored by some but at the same time she had never been more miserable. their songs are filled with her traumas and that puts her back into a powerless position, add the adrenaline of being on stage and you get a truly volatile concoction.

[javaghoul]

Can it make Akira or Amon having a bad day? Or Nishiki?

Yeah, I'll write all 3 💪

This is my first ask. Thank you for sending it 🌠

Akira

First off, Akira is one of those rarities that handles stress incredibly well. She switches off from work easily, and once she is home in her apartment, work-Akira is left at the doorstep, and relaxing-Akira steps in

Alas, she is human, and sometimes things get to her. It just takes a lot

She's the suffer in silence type. She doesn't believe in making others' miserable because she feels pissed off. To the untrained eye, nothing is wrong. She keeps her composure

There are a few tells though: Akira is an eye-roller, she also snaps back quickly without considering her words first. She's also one that can't eat/drink when she's feeling pressured or angry

I don't think there's any particular trigger for Akira, rather a culmination of small things that have built up over time. She tends to deal with problems head on, but if she's very busy at work, they may get put on the sidelines until a later date. That's what tends to trip her up, and she's more annoyed feeling like she created her own problems rather than the issue itself if that makes sense? She holds herself to an unnecessarily high-standard

Hormones don't help either

In terms of getting herself out of the bad mood, Akira is a list maker. She'll make a list of everything bugging her, and tackle it one by one

She doesn't want to waste any more of her life feeling grumpy, so will endeavour to change her day around ASAP

CCG staff will be going about their day, when out of the blue, Akira marches up to them -

"*Name*. Three weeks ago, on Tuesday afternoon, you said *this* to me. Well I do not appreciate it, and I would prefer for it not to happen again. Thank you."

It makes Akira feel better, and confuses (scares) the heck out of her colleagues

She'll promise herself a treat after getting through her "problems list". A lady who appreciates the value of positive reinforcement

Amon

Whenever he wakes up knowing that ghouls have not spontaneously eradicated themselves is a bad day for Amon

This dude is the opposite of Akira; he feels things quickly and deeply and it is apparent for all to see that he's having a bad day

Amon is the type of guy to turn hatred/anger/annoyance into a powerful motivator. Whenever he hears about ghoul attacks, rather than being "That's terrible! I hate this! 😭", Amon is more -

"That's terrible! I hate this! I AM GOING TO STOP THIS RIGHT NOW 😤💪"

So those situations aren't enough to put him in a bad mood. I think what'll cause him to go into a slump, are things completely out of his control such as office politics involving the higher-ups

Amon having a bad day isn't an angerfest. Rather, he's sullen, melancholic. A very gloomy fellow indeed

He struggles to break out of it. This man is a ruminator: one bad hour will bring back a bad memory, and so it continues

The best remedy for this is for him to be around others, although he isn't aware of this. Fortunately, his colleagues and friends are, so when they suspect he's on a downer, he gets dragged out for food/drinks and is forced to hear Akira bickering with Seidou or Suzuya terrorising Shinohara/everyone until he at least has a tiny smile on his face

Nishiki

This guy is an absolute party to watch when he's having a bad day

The insults/language that come out of his mouth are savage af, and the more he swears, the angrier he makes himself...

... and Nishiki gets clumsy when he's angry which is comedy gold for those around him

Anyway. Nishiki having a bad day

Nishiki needs sleep. He doesn't do well on little rest, which is problematic when you're a student and also when you can only acquire food stuffs at night. And working part-time. And having a girlfriend

He also gets hangry

And he's doesn't handle being sick well

So it's more likely an underlying physical problem that's affecting his behaviour -and tolerance for things- rather than a particular event that's made him unhappy. When you've lived a life like his, not much can bother you 🤷‍♀️

It is clear as day that he's in one. Everyone knows it, even the campus staff that walked -swiftly- past his room knows it

He's shitty with everyone, whether they're at fault or not. He'll take out his bad mood on Koma (who Nishiki wrongly believes is too soft/weak to snap back), he'll mouth off to Yoshimura... He's a petulant brat

And like most petulant brats, the best way for them to get over their tantrum is to let them ride it out. Everyone at Anteiku (bar Touka, who is also a fiery idiot) has learnt to ignore him

As soon as he's caught up on sleep/eaten/got over the manflu, he may give an awkward apology to Yoshimura and Koma

But Touka can go screw herself.

[bruhstation]

Could you explain Duck's backstory I am not familiar with the movies it's based on?

fyi duck’s character and family is heavily based off the puppingtons from moral orel! it’s a pretty great show but anyways! backstory time. this one was fun (strained smile)

(cw: alcohol, gun, not sure what this one is called but “father traumadumping on his kid”)

montague collett:

montague collett is the youngest child of the economically influential collett family. he has four older sisters but his family told him that he only has three (one sister ran away from the family due to the pressure from it and later married a man with the last name “avonside”) and montague never knew about this. he’s also the only son so he automatically became the next to inherit the family’s “great western” legacy.

history books say that his great great grandfather was one of the people that were heavily involved in the implementation of the great western railways in the 19th century. he was also a wealthy businessman and a brilliant engineer. he then decided to use the phrase “great western” in his ways of living and eventually, his family. this so-called ways of living can be seen in montague’s bio:

as the years change and new generations bloomed, the “great western” way that his family kept reinforcing upon him has been altered and twisted several times to their personal tastes. what was once the name of a british railway had been exploited into something much more biased. yet little montague wasn’t aware of this. he adored and loved his family. he respected the great western way. he’s polite, well-mannered, smart, and charming. he went to church every sunday and honored the 5th commandment. he greeted all the neighbors and respected his teachers. a lot of people said that montague was the ideal child. montague took all of this to heart and made sure to bring glory to his family’s legacy. little did he know that this is all building up to become a pressure upon him.

a day before his 12th birthday, montague’s father took him to a coming-of-age hunting trip. he said that it’s a collett family tradition to see if a man is truly worthy of continuing the lineage. to be honest, even if the hunting trip didn’t go as planned the boy will still be the heir but there’s the inner shame and embarrassment… you get it. 

little montague didn’t hurt a single animal. every time he came across a deer or a rabbit, he always pretended to miss or get tripped, followed with a meek “sorry, dad. I’ll do my best next time”. what was once dotefulness from his father is now agitation. that night, they ate their packed meal in uncomfortable silence. he spent the night scolding montague about his incompetence, which shortly evolved into him reprimanding him with a loud voice. this has never happened before. his father then resorted to drinking, something he always did every night by the fireplace.

montague’s father then went on a preach about how everyone always expected things from him, how he gave everything for his family, how he sacrificed everything he ever wanted just to continue the lineage. he dumped all his frustrations on the boy. little montague didn’t fully understand what his father was talking about, but one thing for sure is that he was scared. 

his father got quickly pissed off at how meek his son the hope of the collett family was. he then decided to show montague how to properly handle a gun. montague froze in place out of fear. he tried to tell his father to put the shotgun down, but he didn’t listen. he pulled the trigger.

montague got shot in the right ankle.

the next morning, montague and his father went to the clinic. he got his leg in a cast.

his sisters, mother, and other family members scolded montague and told him that he’s way too clumsy. if only he wasn’t afraid of landing a shot, his father wouldn’t have gotten angry at him. if only he had been more careful and paid more attention, he wouldn’t have gotten shot in the ankle. if he had noticed his father getting agitated and moved out of the way, the bullet wouldn’t have hit him. little montague constantly thought of these during his 12th birthday celebration in a hospital room. bummer, dude.

montague felt like he has disappointed his family. he loved them dearly, but deep down he felt like they’re actually disappointed in him. this became the start of his constant devotion for his family and how he’ll go to extreme lengths to make them proud. he also made sure to properly and wholeheartedly pay attention to the great western way (hence his constant saying of “there are two ways of doing things”). he doesn’t like seeing them sad. montague will make sure that he won’t do anything to stain the family legacy ever again…

… until giovanni vin diesel came into the picture.

[ina-nis]

You keep on finding triggers after triggers, huh...

How to tell people “I don’t care about your life because I’m not in it” without dealing with the drama that will incur?

“I’m so happy for you (and I don’t care or wanna hear about it. It makes me miserable).”

It’s like people just... reinforce that role of yours. This is your importance in my life and this is just how much I’m willing to share (from a distance, of course). I want to tell you all about it because I like and trust you, and we’re friends (but I’ll remain blissfully ignorant about everything going in your own life and not mind the impact that I have since it’s none of my business).

You are in their lives and yet, it feels meaningless. You might stay in their lives for 1 more day or 10 more years, it doesn’t make a difference. You know there’s an end to everything, your feelings don’t matter, theirs? They’ll move on and live without you just fine, as if you were never there in the first place.

Their small or big victories are your loss. If you feel happy for them, you’ll feel miserable about your life. If you say nothing too. Of course, you will not do anything rude because that’s exactly how you drive people away and make them hate you, and you don’t want that, so you suffer in silence.

Their loss annoys you too, you’re a loser yourself and even then, they want nothing to do with you. Just what they already have, that is not enough for you.

It’s understandable that you’ll be pissed out of your mind, and you have to keep to yourself.

You know the rules and you follow them. You have agreed to things to be and stay that way, and anything more you might want, will ruin everything. It doesn’t stop you from feeling like this is so dysfunctional and incomplete, and you’re so terribly lonely and unhappy.

But stick around like an addict.

Because any crumbs of attention soothe your wounds (while making them worse overtime).

Ah, it’s so cruel... the longing... desiring... love and hate, that you never let out, not again, not anymore.

You keep second-guessing yourself... hate being in this role of a helper or a second choice, or an afterthought, or a footnote, or stepping stones... you’re sick of being transitional, you’re sick of everything being conditional. you’re sick of feeling like you’re disposable...

But you suffer in silence, you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings anymore. You’ve done enough harm.

You keep hurting though.

Until when?

People grow roots and build their lives. You wither, your roots are rotten, you build nothing.

People take it day by day and maybe make plans. You take it day by day too, you don’t make plans because you are lost and don’t know if you’ll be alive.

People struggle and yet, they keep on going, there’s something or someone (maybe even themselves) that helps them focus. You struggle and keep on going, your life feels meaningless, and you keep on looking for and trying all things and someones, but nothing helps.

People eventually will have a strong foundation, a place to call home. Your foundation is brittle and you constantly have to start over, there’s no place to call home.

People grow older and settle. You grow older and your despair grows with you, together with the indifference and cynicism. You’ll end up hating people, won’t you? Even if you fight hard and never give up, there’s so much you can do to stop the inevitable, and all paths and options so far have showed you... absolutely nothing that can change that outcome.

[thisdreamplace]

Hi dream :) It’s 😵‍💫 anon.

The last few days have been tough, but somehow I feel better. Things feel ok, but there are some big changes I need to happen. I’m honestly a little scared because I’m not sure it’s even possible, but I don’t want to give up on it.

I have also discovered the roots to all of my problems. Like why I get triggered, why I speak or react a certain way, and even my coping. I know my previous anon messages seemed like I was on the right track….but I don’t think I was. I was doing what I used to do with the law, force feed positive thinking. Eventually I spiraled a day or 2 ago. But don’t get me wrong, I still learned from that as well. I depend on other people so much when it comes to the law that I don’t know how to function without checking blogs or just living. I say I have this mindset to keep going regardless but I don’t think I’m going forward as I truly should :( I’m moving, but I still feel so low. I move as if I am already defeated, but I have hope that maybe I can live this life I’ve dreamed of. That’s why I eventually fall every-time. I’ve just been so honest with myself.

One of the craziest things is, I see the negativity I hold inside reflected in my outside world. I’m not confident in my driving skills, and so people are scared to drive with me (this initially pissed me off so bad but then I thought, are they wrong tho? Look at what you think about your skills as well.). I get so snappy and down when certain people come around because I expect them to do something I don’t like (I have a negative perception for some people), and so other people have a negative perception of me. And you know what’s funny? There’s a person in my life who doesn’t believe in me, but they still force positive reinforcement when they don’t mean it….. but thats exactly what I do to myself. I don’t believe in anything good for me, but I still try to force positive words when I don’t mean it. I see me in everything that I don’t like. I was frustrated with it all but I started thinking “this is showing you what you should stop doing”. It’s helping me step out of this negative box I’ve built.

When it comes to Manifesting my dream reality, I’m not sure how I feel about it now. Well, I do know, but I just hate to admit it. For some reason, it’s so hard for me to step into this mindset that I am open for positive things. I’m not sure where to go from here, sadly. It feels like I’ll never be able to manifest. I don’t know why it’s so hard to believe in myself and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. I don’t think I can manifest and I guess that’s what holds me back. That’s the only thing I haven’t been able to get to the root of, why can’t I manifest my dream reality? Idk. It’s frustrating. So I’m still moving forward regardless, but it doesn’t feel good at all.

I wish I could’ve given you a positive update today, dream. I’m learning & growing, but extremely stuck at the same time. Although this is not a happy message, it still feels like a little bit of good came out of this time. I truly get what you mean when you said you can’t fool yourself. It’s about within. We cannot run away from the problem that keeps coming back.

I’m just at this point of feeling down, but also letting everything be. Idek lol.

hello again wonderful anon <3

tbh i understand you entirely, and it's a thing i have to tell myself a lot as well. but the truth is... this is where you just keep moving forward in trust. i get it, you feel you could be doing things differently or maybe you're not doing something right but. this is the patience and grace we must afford ourselves in all of this... i think a thing not talked about is how happiness doesnt come overnight. because this community is obsessed with instant results, so we don't acknowledge the fact that the difficult times may not just end in a couple days all because we found our way. these things linger, way more than even i'd like to admit. i think that though,.. the most important thing in all of that is moving forward anyway. sure you feel like something is off, but why not begin practicing some trust in yourself then, along this path ? you'll lead yourself where u need to be. but thats smth you have to allow. let go of the need to over analyze yourself.

i'm glad u noticed that reflection of yourself in your world, and thus are able to being letting go of those things that aren't helpful for you.

when it comes to the manifesting and everything, tbh, i say put it on the back burner. this is the easiest way to move forward, at least for me it has been. when i stop relating everything to manifesting, and just seriously live life in the best way i can, everything falls into place. this is because manifesting isnt actually something to figure out or effort at. it's just a natural effect of being alive. so let it be natural and forget about it. focus on these things instead, that have to do with you. for example, see if it feels easier to believe in yourself when youre not relating it to manifesting anymore, but just simply living your daily life doing the little things you need to do for you. suddenly, you may see its actually not that hard to slowly allow in more real positivity for yourself, when its not based on manifesting anything but just based on you.

this will be a cycle you have to break, slowly but surely. when you put all of your faith into the law or manifesting or whatever, it's hard because you saw it as your savior. slowly, transition to seeing how only you can save yourself and you can start right now, waiting on nothing. working with life as its presenting itself and not as you wish it was, making you feel against it.

its a process, dear 😵‍💫 anon. and the truth is you never need apologize for a more difficult ask... its part of the process and its a process i know well. i wouldnt expect you to be perfect and bursting with happiness overnight. or even in a week. instead, all i hope is that you continue to wake up and give yourself a true chance. thats what really counts, little by little. ❣️

[neuroprincess]

Just a rant here...

I was just talking about a subjetc that triggered many memories of when I was a teenager, WHY THE FUCK DO WE NOT TALK MORE ABOUT SEXUAL PREDATORY WOMEN? As a teenager I fell into the trap of "you look too mature for your age" or "you're so smart, so this and that, etc", not phrases spoken by men but women, I was just a 14/15 year old girl finding out about my sexuality and thinking I was in love with a 24 year old woman because she was the only one who "validated" me. So I ended up in tears feeling like shit when she got tired of me, then along came 24, 28 and even 33 women who used the same clichéd phrases, giving me some attention and I really felt special about it (mostly because I was a child prodigy and thought no one my age understood me, yes, I was a teen shit), they reinforced. At 16 I deprived myself of several things of being a teenager because according to the woman I was with "this is not mature", are psychological reinforcements for the shit that I already faced from the teenage crisis. Male teen predators suck as hell, but I think female predators have more emotional manipulation over teenagers, easily.

I also largely blame the fanfic media tsc tsc especially wattpad tsc tsc, teenagers read this, fanfics that basically romanticize female teachers with much younger students, mature women sleeping with girls. I wasn't the only one who find such a story while researching lgbt+ history, was I? In 2016 it was the theme that had the most in this niche, the stories are still there and have new ones. And unfortunately there are still stories, fanfics and the like that normalize this. And it's all very beautiful, romanticized... Protective, for being with a woman. When not so. It becomes a relationship about power when there is a big difference in age and one is an adult and other not. I'm going to have to use myself as an example again, sorry, but I was 16 and I was with someone aged 24 (almost 25) who always used her age in her favor, like "I know I'm doing it and telling you to do it because you're just a teenager and I'm an adult, don't do shit" and acted as "boss" in the relationship in every way because she was the "mature" one. It was about her being able and I not, about her knowing I wasn't, it was about how she attacked my self-esteem with small and big things, and I know a lot of girls go through something similar. I am very afraid of those who use their gender to get away with this type of psychological abuse (and other types of abuse) in same-sex relationships with teenagers. It's not talked about enough, about women looking for teenagers who don't know what they're doing or are in fragile moments for their own pleasure (and sense of power). Making it clear that I am talking about the age difference between ADULTS AND TEENAGERS, age difference between adult people is totally okay when are healthy and don't have this question of power. It pisses me off that there are still female writers who normalize this shit, I think I've seen three or four one shots with Wanda or Natasha with teenage readers, girl, TOTALLY NOT. And even though it has some dark tags, it can still be considered fucking pedophilia, it's a 16 teenager being coerced by adults to have sex. Dude, it's ok to write dark (I respect those who do, I'm not judging, everyone has their own tastes), but at least don't put teenagers in it. And damn, this content is so accessible to minors on multiple platforms, I bet there's a 1Xs year old reading this and thinking "Oh, an adult can be interested in me like this? Okay, sounds... Interesting?", sometimes they just get into things like that and don't experience anything healthy until adulthood. I have a friend 3 years younger and at 17 she was with someone almost 30, she read these fanfics/stories, idealized a mature and experienced woman as in what she read, at the end of the relationship that bitch stalked and used her until I had to intervene. Now she's having to recover from all the shitty emotional abuse.

Idk, I'm just rambling, but in conclusion I condemn anyone who puts and fetishizes teenagers and children (I love and hate AO3 at the same time), who normalizes relationship between women and underage girls as if it's something beautiful, just tell the truth, they are sexual predators as well as older men who prey on teenagers. Internet is a trap, there is no control, we just have to guide and protect these kids. Sorry for the rant, but I just got mad when I realized it still happens and hardly anyone talks about this shit. If you're a fucking teenager, don't think that's normal, they are adults wanting to take advantage of you just like men. If you have a teen sibling or relative or friend watch out for female predators too, not just males. They are still not fully formed people and need protection, especially lgbt+, we don't know their reality, how they see themselves or see the world, in the end they can be really fragile prey for these women.

[vannahfanfics]

Walk With Me

Word Count: 7130

Friendship, Character Study

Summary: Throughout his time at U.A., Katsuki has grown used to Eijirou often being the one to walk at his side. So used to it, in fact, that there soon comes a time that he can't imagine him not being there.

Hello, all! Here is my story for the KiriBaku Bang! My partner UntimelyRose made some incredibly beautiful art to go with the story, so be sure to check it out!

“Oi! Shitty Hair! What the fuck was all that about, huh?!” 

As Katsuki ranted angrily at Eijirou, the redhead just turned around to blink owlishly at him, which pissed Katsuki off even more. With a jab of his thumb into his sternum, Katsuki declared adamantly, “I didn’t need you to butt in! I totally had that guy!” 

Katsuki had been so ready to demolish the villain bastards who had crashed their little training party at the U.S.J., starting with the crappy butler guy. Not only had Eijirou totally stolen his thunder, but he’d also been warped away from the big fight. It was so frustrating that Katsuki wanted to yank his hair out!

“Look, Baku-bro, I get that you’re irritated about getting warped away from all the action, but instead of taking it out on me, maybe you should focus on getting back over there, yeah?” 

Eijirou just shrugged in the face of Katsuki’s ire. It was totally not the reaction that Katsuki had been expecting, and the fact that Eijirou so effortlessly saw through the fact that he was projecting his annoyance threw him for an even further loop. He was so stunned by the redhead’s reaction that all of his aggravation evaporated at once, replaced by wide-eyed bewilderment. 

However, Katsuki didn’t have the luxury of being baffled for long. Suddenly, a series of purple-black portals materialized all around them. About a dozen villains stepped through, all sporting an assortment of fierce-looking Quirks and blunt weapons. On instinct, Katsuki and Eijirou sprung toward one another to establish a back-to-back formation. 

“Humph. Focus on getting back over there, huh?” Katsuki smirked. His shoulder blade nudged against one of the gear-shaped shoulder pads encircling Eijirou’s upper arms when he adjusted his offensive stance slightly. “Fine with me. I’m gonna blast my way through these extras, so if you want to be a part of the action, keep your ass up and don’t get in my way!” he commanded as he splayed out both of his arms, small explosions crackling over his palms. 

“Heard ya loud and clear!” Eijirou cried enthusiastically, and when he slammed his hardened fists together, sparks flew from the colliding edges. 

“You cocky little punks!” one of the villains fumed. “This’ll teach you!” With a resounding battle cry, he charged at Eijirou; like the first domino setting of the cascade, his rush triggered the rest of the villains to follow suit. In his peripheral vision, Katsuki saw Eijirou cross both his arms in an X over his face to block the swordsman’s diagonal strike; sparks danced at the collision point of the sharp blade and Eijirou’s reinforced skin. Eijirou then snatched up the blade with one hand and punched the swordsman in the face with his other. All of this occurred in a span of maybe three seconds. 

Hah! Well, he’s not a weakling; I’ll grant him that, Katsuki thought with a widening grin. 

Certainly not one to be outdone, Katsuki lunged at the nearest villain and grabbed his face with his gauntleted hand. The man’s squeal of surprise was quickly overtaken by the small boom! of the explosion that Katsuki activated upon impact. It immediately rendered the man unconscious; his knees buckled, and Katsuki felt him go as limp as a fish in his grasp. With a derisive snort, Katsuki unlatched his fingers from around his smoking and soot-dusted face. Before the subjugated villain even hit the floor, Katsuki had sprung at the next. 

Thump. Thump. Boom! Thump. Ka-boom! Thump. Thump. Katsuki and Eijirou rocketed around the small, dilapidated room, and one by one, the villains succumbed to their overwhelming power. To Katsuki’s great disappointment, not one of them put up any semblance of a fight; he and Eijirou were able to defeat every single one of them in less than thirty seconds. As the last villain standing crumpled to a heap at Katsuki’s feet, the blond snorted in disdain and nudged his unconscious body with the toe of his boot. 

“They call themselves something as pretentious as ‘The League of Villains,’ but this is all they got? Either they’re a joke, or we’ve been so severely underestimated that it’s fuckin’ criminal,” he whined. 

“Well, they are villains,” Eijirou pointed out while flashing Katsuki a shark-toothed grin. “Kinda makes sense that they would be doing something criminal, right?” 

“Your puns are as shitty as your hair,” Katsuki scoffed with a roll of his eyes. There was no time to waste, so he started marching toward the door, shoving aside any incapacitated villain that obstructed his path with his feet. “If you can make a joke as bad as that, then I guess ya ain’t hurt.” 

“Aw! You care!” Eijirou trilled while scurrying after him.

“Do not!” Katsuki snapped, screeching to a halt so he could whip his head around and shoot Eijirou a pointed glare. He didn’t have his mask, however, so he had nothing to hide the faint haze of pink that rose to his upper cheeks. “‘S just that if your dumb ass got hurt, then ya’d be useless, and I’d tell your ass to stay here!” Huffing haughtily, Katsuki whirled back around and resumed stomping toward the exit. 

“Don’t you think we should go help everyone else, though?” Eijirou asked, hurrying to keep up with him. Though he initially tried to walk by Katsuki’s side, the door wasn’t wide enough for them to walk abreast, so he fell in step behind Katsuki as they walked through. 

“Think about it, dumbass,” Katsuki countered without looking back at him. Instead, he was glancing up and down the hallway to locate the stairwell. He spotted the broken neon sign reading EXIT hanging by a single wire in front of an old, rusted metal door; he began stalking purposefully toward it and continued, “That villain is their gateway. He warped them all here, and he can warp them all out if shit hits the fan. We take his ass out, and they’re stuck. Losing their escape route will send them into a panic, including that punk wannabe supervillain leader of theirs. We can clean house before the pros even get here.” 

“Wow, you’ve considered all that?” Eijirou beamed, practically radiating golden light and sparkles with how admiringly he was regarding Katsuki right now. “That’s impressive! Still, I’m worried about everyone else.” 

“You shouldn’t be,” Katsuki huffed as he kicked open the stairwell door. He wasn’t worried about anyone surprising them, so he marched right on through; they’d most certainly been underestimated, and all the villains that had been sent to deal with himself and Eijirou were currently passed out in the dingy room. 

Except for one, evidently. 

Katsuki whirled around just in time to grab ahold of the two-by-four on a collision course for both their skulls with one hand; his other whizzed past Eijirou’s head to blast the tenacious villain to kingdom come. Eijirou looked over his shoulder to see the villain shooting down the hall like a missile; he crashed into the concrete wall at the end, which immediately collapsed at the impact and buried the villain under chunks of gray concrete and other debris. Eijirou slowly turned back to face Katsuki, his eyes owlish. 

“We’re all students of U.A.!” Katsuki asserted while clenching his gauntleted fist. His vermilion eyes weren’t on Eijirou but focused on the crumbled wall at the end of the hall. They blazed with a fierce fire as he barked, “If they can’t handle villains as crappy as these, then they don’t deserve to be here! That goes double for that damn nerd, Deku!” 

Katsuki then whirled around to start plonking down the stairs. Without looking back, he snapped at Eijirou, who was still standing in a shocked stupor on the landing.

“Walk with me, Shitty Hair!” 

There was a momentary pause, followed by the sound of Eijirou’s footsteps rapidly descending after him. 

“Right behind you, Baku-bro!” 

“All right, looks like everyone’s assembled,” Aizawa-sensei frowned while sweeping his weary gaze over his gaggle of students, who had all changed into their hero uniforms and piled into the spacious training gym. Based on the way almost everyone was fidgeting, they’d spent their very short remainder of summer break just as tense as Katsuki had. After enduring such a chaotic summer, everyone was apparently keen on jumping back into hero training. Katsuki supposed that watching your classmates drop like flies—and one of them be kidnapped—could do that to you. 

Thinking about the incident made Katsuki flex his fingers with impatience. 

Stronger… He wasn’t nearly strong enough yet if he let a bunch of villains get the drop on him like that. 

“It’s only been a day since you moved in, so we’ll take it easy—just for today,” their instructor continued. “You can practice your techniques individually or spar in small groups; just don’t overexert yourselves. I’ll be monitoring.” 

He said that, but he immediately stretched out his bright yellow sleeping bag and wormed his way into it. 

Katsuki just rolled his eyes; whether Eraserhead was watching or not really didn’t matter to him. He didn’t need a goddamn babysitter. He crossed his arms as he stood there, mulling over whether he should blast a boulder to smithereens or spar with one of his classmates. While he was debating, Eijirou skipped over to him with a broad grin. 

“Hey, Baku-Bro! I got a proposition for ya!” When Katsuki nodded at him to indicate he was listening, Eijirou explained, “I wanna see how my Quirk holds up against Mina’s acid, and Fumikage’s itchin’ to get a rematch with you.” 

The redhead jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to where the bubbly pink girl was waving cheerily at them while standing next to the brooding “Prince of Darkness,” prompting Katsuki to snort. He’d been waiting since the Sports Festival to have another go at him, huh? Well, far be it from Katsuki to begrudge him that. Katsuki was definitely still sour about how his match with Shoto went. 

“So, I was thinking that you ‘n me could team up against them. Two-on-two is way more fun than one-on-one, and we make a good team, yeah?” Eijirou continued while nudging Katsuki repeatedly with his elbow. 

They did make a good team, Katsuki could admit. He didn’t have to worry about limiting his explosions thanks to Eijirou’s Quirk, and the guy’s iron-wall tactics complemented Katsuki’s more agile and dynamic fighting style. Plus, Eijirou trusted his judgment and would therefore listen to his commands without giving him any annoying lip. Sparring was honestly much more interesting than blasting a buncha rocks all afternoon, too. In summary, Katsuki really didn’t see any good reason to refuse. 

“All right,” he agreed with a nod and uncrossed his arms. “Let’s get to it.” 

The four of them secured a nice open area in the corner of the gym for themselves. Momo, who’d chosen to spend the training period working on her endurance, agreed to be their moderator. She stood on the fringes of their “battlefield,” matryoshka dolls cascading from her body and slowly piling at her feet. She waited until both the duos had taken up their positions, then sliced her arm down through the air with a shout of “Begin!”

“Here I come!” Katsuki roared. He splayed his palms out behind him to discharge several large explosions that sent him rocketing across the field. Fumikage didn’t flinch at his rapid approach, but rather braced himself to dodge. Right before Katsuki collided with him, however, Mina lithely skipped into the small space between them. 

“Not so fast!” she cried while slinging acid from her body. 

Katsuki barely managed to change direction to avoid being splattered by the substance; he lurched himself to the side using his explosions, aiming at a downward angle so that he could fall into a rolling dodge. The ground rumbled as Dark Shadow plowed into the space he’d landed only seconds before. 

“Yahoo!” Eijirou crowed and leap-frogged off of Katsuki, prompting the blond to bark out a complaint as he jumped to his feet. 

“Oi! I ain’t your springboard!” 

“Sorry-not-sorry!” the redhead laughed, then grinned wickedly. While still in mid-air, he hardened his entire body and snatched Dark Shadow into a fierce grapple before the amorphous being could slither out of reach. Once Eijirou locked his arms around him and planted his feet against the ground, he slung his entire body around, thereby whisking Fumikage right off his feet and hurling him in a circular path toward Katsuki. 

“Special delivery!” Eijirou called as he released his hold on the angrily writhing black shadow. He then hurled himself into a rolling dodge just in time to avoid the glob of gooey acid that Mina shot toward his feet to try and immobilize him. “Oi! I haven’t forgotten about you!” 

“Buckle up, Bird Brain!” Katsuki shouted, then blasted the still-airborne Fumikage with a massive explosion. Despite the intense light generated by it, Dark Shadow managed to dig its claws into the rocky ground and yank Fumikage away at the last second; Fumikage emerged from the billowing smoke cloud with his arms crossed in front of him and his legs tucked in, a little sooty but otherwise no worse for wear. 

“Woo! I knew this would be a workout!” Eijirou laughed as he landed in a crouch beside Katsuki, flicking globs of acid from one of his arms. 

But Katsuki wasn’t laughing. No, he was slipping, irises shrinking into the whites of his eyes and his breathing hitching. Stronger, he needed to be stronger; this wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. His entire body shook as black emotions swirled inside of him—anger, frustration, desperation, fear. He had to be sure, be sure that no one could get ahold of him like that again—

“Hey! Look lively!” 

Eijirou grabbed Katsuki by the arm, then threw himself sideways to avoid the oncoming rain of acid bullets, thus dragging the dazed Katsuki with him. When Katsuki landed in a clumsy squat, Dark Shadow loomed up behind him with a screech; more on instinct than anything, Katsuki drop-rolled onto his back to blast the shadowy creature with a large explosion. Through the smoke cloud, he saw the disgruntled bird hastily retreat back into Fumikage’s cloak to momentarily recuperate. 

As he lay there on his back, panting and wide-eyed and halfway between reality and nightmare, Eijirou dropped down onto one knee next to him.

“Hey, man, are you good?” he asked, holding up a hand to indicate for the other two to stop. 

Katsuki blinked several times; with each one, the shadowy image of a dingy, abandoned bar room that had been overtaking his vision faded until it was no more. Instead, it was replaced with the image of Eijirou leaning over him, his crimson eyes wide with concern. 

“Katsuki?” 

“‘M fine,” Katsuki mumbled. Before he could pull himself into a sitting position, Eijirou offered him his hand. 

Katsuki stared at it for a second. Then, with a grunt, he grabbed onto it and allowed Eijirou to pull him to his feet. 

“I’m just fine,” Katsuki said again, this time in a murmur. What was he stressing about? No one would ever be able to get ahold of him like that again. Ever…

“Come on, Baku-bro,” Eijirou smiled and patted his back. “Let’s take a walk.” 

“Yeah,” Katsuki mumbled unenthusiastically but started walking nonetheless. 

Side-by-side, they walked out of the training hall and into the adjoining hallway. The first thing Katsuki did was walk over to the large stainless-steel sink, flip on the faucet, rip his mask off, and dunk his head under the gushing stream of ice-cold water. The chill seeped through his sweaty hair and skin, through his skull, and into his whirling mind, freezing over the gears to finally bring his runaway train of thought to a groaning, shuddering halt. 

Katsuki let the water run over his head for at least a full minute until he could no longer ignore the way his nerves screamed at the freezing cold. He flipped the tap back off, then straightened up with a long sigh. He kept his head down, though, watching the water drip from his soaked hair down into the thin layer of water puddled in the sink’s silvery bottom. Within it, he could see his ripple-distorted reflection. 

He didn’t quite like what he saw, so he tore his gaze away with a disgusted growl. He turned around to see Eijirou standing right there, smiling kindly as he offered a towel. 

Katsuki momentarily debated saying something surly, but the water had cooled him too much. So, instead, he just took the towel with a soft mutter of “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

While Katsuki toweled off his hair, Eijirou just stood there, whistling as he rolled his weight back and forth from the balls of his heels to his toes. Normally, Katsuki would probably find it irritating. However, it drowned out the noise threatening to start back up in Katsuki’s head, so for once, he found himself grateful for it. 

Once his hair was dry enough not to be annoying, he looped the towel around his neck and frowned at Eijirou. 

“You’re not gonna ask?” 

“Hmm?” Eijirou blinked, looking at him with wide, curious eyes. He then processed what Katsuki had said, and he smiled. “Oh, well, I didn’t wanna push. If you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears. But if you don’t, that’s fine, too. I’m here in whatever way you need me to be here, Katsuki.” 

Katsuki’s cheeks flushed a little bit at that, but it wasn’t from anger. He really couldn’t describe the feeling at all—some mixture of embarrassment, gratitude, and validation that had his thoughts jumbling again. He sniffed, fiddling with the ends of the towel before he looked back down into the sink again. 

“... I just need to get stronger,” he mumbled after several seconds. “Strong enough that nobody’ll ever snatch me up like that again. And I can’t do it fast enough.” 

Katsuki didn’t look at him, but he knew that Eijirou had that almost patronizingly sympathetic look on his face. Almost, because it didn’t really feel patronizing for once. Katsuki just felt… relieved. Relieved that Eijirou didn’t laugh at him for having a panic attack in the middle of a training session. Not that the guy would; he wasn’t like that. But Katsuki feared a lot of things these days, apparently, even things he had no reason to fear at all. 

“I understand that, Katsuki,” Eijirou said. After a second, Katsuki felt the redhead’s hand on his shoulder. “This might just make you mad, but… you’re not alone, you know? Just like you don’t want to end up in a situation like that ever again, we don’t want to be powerless to save one of our friends again, either. So let’s all get stronger together and have each other’s backs. Maybe it’ll be more slow going than you’d like… but a bundle of sticks is stronger than just one on its own, right?” 

“A bundle of sticks, huh?” Katsuki echoed thoughtfully. As the water dripped from the faucet, it rippled across that puddle in the bottom of the sink; bit by bit, Katsuki found his reflection a little more bearable. He smiled slightly, then looked up at Eijirou. “Yeah, all right. I guess I can throw in my lot with you extras for a little while. I’m still gonna be number one, though, so don’t get any funny ideas about riding my coattails.” 

“I’d never dream of it, Baku-Bro!” Eijirou snickered and flashed him a big, shark-toothed smile. “Let’s get back in there, yeah? We’ve got a sparring match to finish.”

“Hell yeah, we do.” 

Katsuki tossed the towel down into the sink. It soaked up all the water, taking his reflection with it, but that was fine. Katsuki would never look that way again. Katsuki would never feel that way again. Because Katsuki was going to become stronger. 

And, to grow into a mighty oak tree, you had to give the sapling a scaffold to lean on when the winds picked up. 

As Katsuki blasted that prick Seiji Shishikura to kingdom come, he made a mental note of his latest addition to his list titled “Things That Will Never Happen to Katsuki Bakugo Ever Again”: Get turned into a fucking meatball. 

“Look alive, guys! You aren’t the only ones that guy turned into freaky meatballs!” As he shouted it, Denki took a nervous step back. They were suddenly surrounded by several angry-looking Provisional License Examinees. On the other hand, Katsuki and Eijirou took eager steps forward, both of them cracking their knuckles threateningly. 

“Hah! We know, Pikachu,” Katsuki sneered and licked his lips in anticipation. Truth be told, his pride was a little slighted after such a sorry display against Shiketsu High on his part, and so he was eager for redemption. An all-out brawl was definitely more his speed. He slammed his fist into his palm, making several mini-explosions pop off against his gauntlets. “All right, Shitty-Hair! You ‘n me are about to let loose. You’ve got our backs, right, Pikachu?” 

Denki looked startled for a split second; then, he grinned brightly and whirled on his heel to take up a defensive position at Eijirou and Katsuki’s backs. 

“You know I do! Let’s smash these guys and join the rest of our classmates, yeah?” 

“Yeah!” Eijirou and Katsuki cheered simultaneously. Their confidence, rather than rattle their opponents, instead seemed to stoke the flames of their anger. Their show of bravado was all it took for them to spring at the group of U.A. students with a resounding battle cry. 

“Come and get some!” Katsuki taunted, then brought his hands together to start forming a sphere of light between them. He and Eijirou had fought together plenty of times now—more than enough for him to know what Katsuki was about to do. The redhead activated his Quirk and crossed his arms over his eyes, which he also squeezed shut, just before Katsuki discharged his Stun Grenade. The opposing students recoiled with pained screams at the searing light and stopped in their tracks; Katsuki heard Eijirou dash toward the closest-sounding one, followed by the unmistakable sound of him delivering one of his Red Gauntlet punches to their gut. 

Before the incapacitated student even hit the ground, Katsuki blasted himself through the rapidly-fading light burst to land in front of another unsuspecting victim. All the older boy could do was watch in half-blinded panic as Katsuki’s fist rocketed toward the bottom of his jaw. Katsuki’s uppercut brought him clear off the ground, and the eyes that had been looking down on the blond in infuriated panic were now rolled back to the whites. Katsuki left him to drop like a felled oak and deal with later, too busy blasting his way back across the battlefield to grab ahold of a girl who’d teleported behind Eijirou and was poised to tap one of his targets. 

“Oh, no, ya don’t!” the blond roared when he snatched up the back of her uniform. He didn’t know if her teleporting had a time limit or what, but he didn’t give her the time to reveal so one way or another. As soon as Katsuki had ahold of her, he whirled on his heel and flung her at one of her peers, wrenching the ball away from Eijirou’s target with only a few millimeters to spare. The girl wailed as she sailed through the air. Her shrill scream cut off with a pained “oof” as she crashed into her classmate, and they both crumpled to the ground. 

“Duck, Baku-Bro!”

Katsuki obeyed Eijirou’s shouted command without even thinking about it; as the blond dropped swiftly into the crouch, several sticky webs sailed over his head to splay harmlessly over the nearby concrete wall. Eijirou vaulted himself over Katsuki’s shoulders, caught one of Denki’s conductive discs in mid-air, and jammed it into the wall to trap the unsuspecting girl in the path of the electricity that Denki discharged from his finger. 

“How many times do I gotta tell ya to quit it with the leapfrog move?!” Katsuki snapped angrily while tossing a grenade nonchalantly over his shoulders. It exploded a couple of yards behind him, sending the small group that had been trying to sneak up on him scurrying for cover. 

“But it works so well!” Eijirou whined. 

“It’s lame as shit!” came his aggravated reply. “If we’re gonna have a combo move, it’s not gonna be a goddamn children’s game!” 

“Ohoho, so, you want us to have a combo move?” 

“That’s not what I said!” 

“That’s totally what you said, Baku-bro,” Denki cut in. 

“Stay out of this, Pikachu!” Katsuki snapped back. 

As they bickered back and forth, they made a circuit of all the defeated examinees and tapped their targets. Once they’d done so, their own targets started blinking red, and little speakers within stated for them to proceed to the coliseum’s waiting room. 

“Come on, let’s get walkin’,” Katsuki huffed and started walking. 

After a minute or so, Eijirou pranced up to Katsuki and elbowed him lightly in the ribs. 

“What, Shitty-Hair? I told ya, it ain’t happenin’—”

“No, I know, this isn’t about that,” Eijirou smiled, and Katsuki quirked an eyebrow at him. “I just wanted to make sure you were good.” 

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I be?” Katsuki blinked. 

“Well, you know,” Eijirou frowned with a sideways glance at Denki, who was skipping along ahead looking awfully pleased with himself. Katsuki supposed it was warranted; the electro-dunce could pull through when it came down to the wire, and he’d saved their behinds. Eijirou lowered his voice when he looked back to Katsuki and said, “I know it still bothers you, kinda—people getting the jump on you.” 

“Humph. That’s all?” Katsuki sniffed. “Well, you’re worrying is unnecessary. I’m fine.” 

And Katsuki was, really. He was different than he was back then. He was stronger—but that wasn’t all. No, there was something else that made it a lot less frightening to be caught unawares, to find himself at somebody else’s mercy.  

He wasn’t alone. 

“I knew that Pikachu would pull through. Simple as that.” 

“Yeah?” Eijirou smiled crookedly at him, and Katsuki huffily pulled up the collar of his hero uniform as he felt heat rising to his face. “I’m glad to hear it, dude!” They walked on for several moments more, and then Eijirou looked at him again with a big, stupid grin. “But seriously, about the leapfrog move—” 

“I said no, dammit!”

“Oi, Shitty Hair! Leapfrog!” Katsuki shouted, then dropped down into a squat with his hands against the cracked asphalt of the ruined highway. He heard the slap-slap-slap of Eijirou’s boots against the uneven ground, then felt his hands push down on his shoulders to vault himself over Katsuki’s back. 

“Red Riot: Unbreakable!” Eijirou shouted as he did so, and Katsuki felt the redhead’s fingers and palm turn as rigid as rock the instant before they left his shoulders. With a tremendous roar of “Red Gauntlet!” Eijirou delivered a devastating punch to the car-sized piece of rubble hurtling toward them like a meteor. His fist drove a crater into the rock, from which cracks rippled out in all directions; in the next second, the large piece of concrete shattered into thousands of stones no bigger than Katsuki’s fist. 

The blond tucked his head under his arm while the rubble and chalky white dust rained down upon him, using it to shield his crimson eyes as they searched the dust cloud for their target. 

Where are you, villain?

Like almost every other hero student in the country, Katsuki and Eijirou’s hero training had been overhauled in the wake of All for One’s latest move. By now, almost every prison had been destroyed, and villains were running amok everywhere. The time for theory was long gone; it was put their training into practice or risk the deaths of thousands of innocent lives. To that end, the two second-years had been sent on patrol to scour the apocalyptic devastation for stranded civilians and offer them sanctuary at U.A. 

It had been less than an hour before they’d happened upon a ten-foot brute ripping apart the highway ramp and flinging the abandoned cars and concrete pieces willy-nilly into the surrounding buildings, apparently just for fun. Eijirou had recognized him as a fellow dubbed “Wrecking Crew” who had the ability to turn his hands into wrecking balls. He was a self-proclaimed artist who believed destruction was an aesthetic and had found himself a niche in a demolition company. Well, he’d apparently found only performing government-sanctioned demolition work unfulfilling, and he had been arrested some years back for bulldozing his way through several architectural marvels for the sake of his “art.” 

His haphazard demolition work had flushed out the nearby pack of hunkered-down survivors like mice fleeing their smoking mouse hole, and he’d shifted to playing some sort of twisted target practice with the scurrying civilians. Of course, the two boys would have acted anyway, but the fact that lives were on the line made it all the more imperative for them to put a stop to his wanton destruction. 

Katsuki heard the shrill scraping of metal against asphalt before he saw the white-yellow sparks dancing in the settling dust, so he had blasted himself well away by the time the crumpled, totaled-out SUV came careening through the spot where he’d just been. He landed next to Eijirou, who was brushing concrete bits from his hair with a disgruntled frown. A large, hulking shadow materialized in the fading dust cloud. It slowly solidified into the form of Wrecking Crew lumbering toward them, the splintered remains of the overpass quaking with each of his thundering steps. 

“You good?” Katsuki asked Eijirou, who just grinned and gave him two thumbs-up. 

“Totally, bro! Gigantomachia makes this guy look like a toddler kicking over his blocks,” the redhead snickered. 

“Yeah, well, he’s got an impressive fucking kick,” Katsuki growled with a gesture of the devastation around them. Granted, this guy had probably only contributed to a small fraction of it, but still—if they let him have his way, he’d be kicking “blocks” until the sun went down. 

Katsuki heard Wrecking Crew grunt in exertion, followed by the sound of creaking metal. They both turned to find him bending a light pole and snapping it at the root. He brandished it threateningly, then gripped it in both hands. 

“Batter up!” Wrecking Crew laughed darkly, malice gleaming in his eyes. He then swung the pole like a baseball bat, roaring like a freight train all the while. That light pole would probably hit like one, too—not that Katsuki had any desire to confirm. 

Katsuki blasted himself into the air, while Eijirou tucked and rolled; the light pole crashed into the overturned car that had been situated behind them, and it struck so hard that it indented the undercarriage and lodged there. Wrecking Crew tugged insistently at it several times, but when it proved that it wouldn’t be going anywhere, he released it with an aggravated huff. 

“Three strikes and you’re out!” Eijirou grinned as he sprinted across the overpass toward him. 

Wrecking Crew narrowed his eyes and started toward the redhead. His fist morphed into a spiked ball attached to his body by a long chain; he kicked it into the air and started whirling it around his head. The heavy ball made intimidating whoomp, whoomp, whoomps as it cut through the air, slowly becoming a blur as it rapidly picked up speed. 

“Oi! Up here, Blocks-for-Brains!” Katsuki shouted down to him right before he lobbed the weapon at Eijirou. Katsuki used a series of small explosions to shoot himself through the air like a missile. When the villain glanced up, Katsuki dropped down onto his head and grabbed it to deliver a large explosion straight to his face. He swiftly sprung away before he could be squashed by Wrecking Crew’s meaty hand slapping his burned, blistered skin.

“OOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!” the villain howled in agony, and the half-collapsed overpass shuddered with each of his stumbling steps as he tottered backward. The wrecking ball slammed down into the overpass, forming a crater where it landed. The concrete structure groaned, then collapsed inward on itself, sending Wrecking Crew fumbling down the slope that formed as a result. He landed in the pile of rubble with an “Oof,” but he wasn’t dazed in the slightest; his eyes gleamed maliciously through the gaps in the fingers still plastered over his face as he started sitting up, bits of rock and chalk dust raining off of his massive, muscle-bound body. 

“Take this!” Eijirou roared as he slammed his hardened body into the cab of a wrecked cargo freighter. The impact sent the cab careening down the overpass, dragging the attached shipping container with it. The shrill screech of metal-on-metal sliced through the air as the eighteen-wheeler jack-knifed; then, with a tremendous series of clangs, bangs, and crunches, it slipped down into the hole in the overpass and tumbled down the slope. Wrecking Crew’s angry roar was cut short by the thundering boom! of the freighter crashing down on him. 

Katsuki landed at the edge of the collapsed section and peered down. It took half a minute for all the dust to clear, but when it did, he saw Wrecking Crew pinned beneath the cab of the eighteen-wheeler, tossing his head slowly from side to side, and groaning in half-conscious pain. 

“Well, that takes care of that,” Katsuki huffed when Eijirou trotted up to him. 

The redhead peered down into the hole and whistled appreciatively. 

“Man, what a brute! I can’t believe he’s still conscious after that.” 

“Well, I certainly don’t wanna be here when he wakes up. Let’s call the extraction team so they can sedate him and dump him back in the cesspit he came from,” Katsuki snorted and fished a cell phone out of his pocket. Even with the heavy-duty protective phone case and reinforced glass, the screen was cracked in several places. It was just a testament to how rough things were these days. 

After ensuring Wrecking Crew’s capture and securing the safety of the civilians, Eijirou and Katsuki’s patrol time had all but exhausted, so they started on the long and desolate road back to U.A. Katsuki walked with his hands laced behind his head and kicking a stone in front of him, while Eijirou walked silently alongside him. After several minutes of nothing but silence, Eijirou hesitantly piped up, “Hey, Kats?” 

“Yeah?” the blond asked while giving his stone another hefty kick. It skittered several yards down the cracked pavement, then fell to a rest awaiting the toe of Katsuki’s boot. 

“Do… Do you think things will be like this forever?” With a sad frown, Eijirou gestured to the ruin around them—the empty houses with shattered windows and busted doors, the abandoned wreckages of cars and bikes, the overgrown flowerbeds and yards… all the lifelessness that was their new normal. “Do you think we can actually win?”

“‘Course we can,” Katsuki huffed without a second thought, prompting Eijirou to look at him with wide red eyes. Rather than kick it again, Katsuki stooped down to scoop up the rock; he continued walking, tossing it up and catching it as he did so. “First, we’ll find that shitty nerd and drag his ass back home. Then we’ll get our shit together. And then we’ll hit Shigaraki and All for One like a fucking battleship. Easy as one-two-three.” 

“You make it sound so easy,” Eijirou sniggered, and Katsuki smirked, glad that his almost narcissistic confidence had raised Eijirou’s spirits. Katsuki knew damn well that it was far easier said than done, and the truth of it was that he didn’t know for sure if they could actually win. But they had to try, or else what the hell was all of this for? 

“Well, Shitty Hair, let’s just say that I enjoy our little games of leapfrog way too much to let those crusty bastards make me give it up,” the blond smirked and elbowed Eijirou lightly in the ribs. 

“I knew you’d come around eventually!” Eijirou laughed and nudged him back. 

“Hey, I still think it’s lame as hell, but these days, I’m in no position to gripe about aesthetics. If the shit works, it works.” 

“You just said you enjoyed it!” 

“I sure as hell did not. You misheard me. Are your ears as shitty as your hair now?” 

Their laughter bounced off the abandoned cars and buildings as they trekked on, playfully pushing and shoving one another while they traded jibes. No, the future was more blurry to Katsuki than ever before—but he’d take it back, make it that clear vision that he once had, bring back the tomorrow that he’d always fought so hard for. 

The tomorrow that all of them were fighting so hard for. 

“Hey, Eijirou, walk with me.” 

“Huh? What’s up, Kats?” Eijirou blinked in confusion as he scrambled off the sofa to follow Katsuki, who was already walking toward the dorm door. He caught up with the blond as he walked through, and together they stepped out into the fading afternoon sun. 

Katsuki walked to the far end of the courtyard, and Eijirou followed without pressing him any further. For a second, Katsuki just stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing up at the painted yellow-orange sky. He could feel Eijirou’s gaze burning into his back, burning much brighter than the scarlet sun that was sinking ever closer to the horizon. Tomorrow was upon them, at long last—the tomorrow they’d fought so hard for, the tomorrow that they nearly lost, the tomorrow that Katsuki had dreamt of for so long—and yet, different than what he’d imagined, way back in the beginning. 

“So… we’re graduating tomorrow,” the blond said finally, turning back to the redhead. 

“Yeah,” Eijirou acknowledged with a small nod. His eyebrows were knit together and his brow wrinkled in confusion, and the familiarity of the expression made Katsuki smirk. “What about it? Are you in your feelings or something, dude?” he guessed, and the way he phrased it made Katsuki snigger in laughter. 

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” Katsuki admitted with a smile. He wasn’t immune to it, either—the feeling that he was about to pass through a door through which he’d never return, the feeling that everything was about to be different. It had him nostalgic, for better or for worse—and so here he was, on the border between today and tomorrow with the guy who’d gotten him through yesterday. 

“I wanted to thank you, Eijirou.” 

“Huh? Thank me?” the redhead asked, getting that owlish look on his face again. 

“Yeah, ya big dumbass,” Katsuki smiled crookedly as he punched Eijirou lightly in the shoulder. “Isn’t that a thing? Thanking people for being their best friend? Come on, now, I’m never this gracious. Enjoy it while it lasts.” 

“I-I mean, I am enjoying it,” Eijirou sputtered, reaching up to rub at the shoulder that Katsuki had just tapped because he seemed unsure of how else to respond. “I just… It’s not something I really need thanks for, I don’t think.” 

“Well, I’m grateful, regardless,” Katsuki smirked. “Without you, I think I would’ve turned out to be a real asshole.” 

“I mean, you’re still kind of an asshole,” Eijirou grinned, and Katsuki could only bark out a laugh. Yeah, he was still kind of an asshole, but that was all a part of his charm, right? 

“I appreciate the sentiment, honestly,” Eijirou smiled and put his hand on his shoulder. His expression then turned a little unsure again. “There’s just something I don’t get, I guess. What brought all of this on?” 

“Well…” Katsuki frowned and scratched at the back of his head as a blush rose to his cheeks. Fuck, why was this still so hard for him—saying what he meant? His frown deepened as he struggled to find the right words, and he looked down at his feet as he put a hand on his hip because he’d start flailing it about otherwise. 

“I was just—thinking,” he said, figuring that if he just started word-vomiting like Izuku then he would get to the point eventually. “Thinking about, you know, the past three years. And—I realized that—you’ve always been there, you know? More than All Might, more than Deku, more than anybody. You’ve always had my back. You’ve always walked with me, and—I don’t—I don’t—

Argh, why is this so fucking hard?!” he suddenly ranted, now red-faced and scowling. He straightened up, clenched his fists at his sides, and looked Eijirou dead in the eyes though it mortified him to do so. “What I’m trying to say is—is—” After several sputtery attempts, he finally forced out, “Let’s go pro together! Start an agency with me!” 

Eijirou just stared at him in stunned silence for several seconds. Each one that passed made the blood flood to Katsuki’s face. Just when he felt like his head was gonna explode, a beaming smile split Eijirou’s face. 

“Dude, I thought you’d never ask.” 

Katsuki released a half-huff, half-laugh at that, honestly unsure if he could believe what he’d just heard. Part of him had always wondered when the pin would drop—when he’d looked to his side to suddenly find that the redhead wasn’t there anymore. But Eijirou continued to plaster that big, stupid, cheesy-ass grin on his face that had shifted something in Katsuki on day one, and then suddenly it wasn’t so hard to believe after all—the notion that Eijirou had no intention of going anywhere, ever. 

“You look like you’re about to cry, dude,” the redhead teased. “Did you really think I’d say no? You’re my best friend in the whole world, my guy. Ain’t nobody I wanna walk into the future with ‘sides you.” Eijirou snickered, then held his arms out for an embrace. “So c’mere, partner!” 

And damn it all, Eijirou knew Katsuki too well, because he choked on a sob as he fell into the hug. Eijirou reached up to cradle the back of Katsuki’s head as the blond pressed his face into his left shoulder, and Katsuki gripped the other one tight to hug Eijirou close. 

“You asked me to walk with you, remember?” Eijirou murmured, and Katsuki felt him smile against the side of his head. “And I promised to, every step of the way. That’s what friends do, yanno? They walk together, they get strong together, they fight together. Road doesn’t end here, Katsuki.” 

“It’s just started.”