#Like. Imagine he turns up at the league and the dead rock turns into a lush forest for the pokemon?

[minai28]

A dream gave me a cool idea. I have too many WIPs and am still not done with a long one... But N and Zekrom accidentally shifting the world around them into his ideal state because Reshiram only wakes up later in the game to balance them out?

The world shifting between Ns ideal and the main characters truth during their fight?

Thing going insane with the power of legend???

Cool concept, thanks dream!

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

10,000 Leagues Under Fontaine

Synopsis: The life of a guard of the Fortress of Meropide is mostly dull and structured, until a chance encounter with an otherworldly beast gives you a reason to smile again.

Foul Legacy x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Angst Warnings: Mentions of drowning, acid, burning, very slight mentions of blood

~ * ~ The Fortress of Meropide is always cold. Cold, but never quiet; the underwater complex is unmistakably alive despite being made of metal sheets and grates, the sound of machinery weaving with the chatter of both inmates and guards, sharing their days and gossiping here and there as good citizens of Fontaine always do- rumors spread fast in the Fortress, and there’s not a moment that isn’t exciting or entertaining in some way. Or so you like to imagine. Being one of the top guards of Meropide has its benefits- getting to choose your days off, occasional trips to the surface, even the Duke’s personal trust in your abilities. But with trust comes difficult, often tedious tasks, ones that Administrator Wriothesley only assigns to the most capable workers, and so you find yourself patrolling the space between the main prison and the ocean gates. The room is an odd mixture of metal and screws and a gradual incline towards the sea floor, a shallow puddle transitioning into a passage filled with water that someone could swim in. You keep wondering when Wriothesley will properly fix the gate at the end, and he simply responds that he’ll get around to it at some point. For now, keep watch- it’s almost a straight shot to the ocean, and we wouldn’t want inmates attempting to escape, now would we? And you just nodded, expression steady as stone and twice as unmoving; no prisoners would sneak in on your watch.

Not that they often do. Life at the Fortress is a new start for many and even a step up in comfort for most. Besides, the passage is much too long for anyone without a Vision to swim through without the danger of drowning- you’ve had to haul a few corpses out in the past, and that was enough to dissuade most of the other prisoners, it seems. Good for security, but boring for you, as there’s little else to do but watch water drip from the ceiling and skirt around the jagged bits and edges of metal left on the walls and floor. Occasionally a gardemek going through its initial testing will join you, and you’ll idly teach it to play rock paper scissors- so far, you’ve kept up a 50% win rate against the robotic soldiers- but nothing more. At least it smells of rain here instead of smoke and fire. You’re alone on the day that the noises begin, sitting on a crate and mistaking them for distant ocean waves and the clanging of hammers against metal. They’re simple at first- vague splashes and a faint scratching sound- but as you listen they morph into something else, like echoing cries, or perhaps a song through the sea. Something beautiful, for once, one corner of your mouth twitching up ever so slightly- what few friends you have call this expression your “almost-smile”, and know it’s as pleased as you’ll get. Something close.

Your almost-smile vanishes as your ears pick up the distinct sound of something swimming through water, the water that flows through this small passage, scrambling to your feet and snatching your weapon from its spot on the floor as whatever-it-is turns the corner, the water’s surface rippling. You really should’ve taken up on His Grace’s offer to get you a rifle. You’re expecting the aquatic thing to burst forth from the sea, attacking you first and asking questions once you’re dead, but instead you’re greeted with the sight of two crimson horns poking out into the air, the water stilling if not for slight movements. Slowly, steadily, your gaze follows the horns down as a head rises out of the water, a single crystalline eye blinking curiously and settling on your form. There’s a moment of silence, and then the creature chirps. You can only freeze in place, brows furrowed in deep confusion as the beast- Archons, it’s big- hauls itself onto shore, tilting its head this way and that as it cautiously approaches. The hand holding your weapon tightens, your heartbeat almost painful, and the monster’s eye widens as it pauses, glancing nervously from you to your weapon and back again.

With slow, deliberate movements, you watch as the beast lowers its head to your height, letting out a soft trill. It almost sounds apologetic, hunching its shoulders inward shamefully, and something in your heart, the one you molded and fixed into being cold and quiet, cracks. You lower your weapon, eyes narrowed, and you swear you hear the creature purr. Legacy is its name, his name- Foul Legacy, a monster from beneath your world. But he’s a monster only in appearance, you’ve learned, navigating the ocean with boundless curiosity and a demeanor sweeter than any Fontainian dessert or cake that you’ve ever eaten. Tell me everything, he begs, scratching his claws through the dirt in a language you only vaguely remember from an old book. Tell me anything and everything- about this world, about here, about there, about you. He likes you, you’re kind and caring and gentle, so unlike the countless stars he’s seen before. You try to protest. You’re not caring, or gentle, or kind- you’re a guard of Fontaine’s prison, someone who was stabbed through your spine and constructed walls around your fragile heart, watching the Fortress to make sure that no one could ever be hurt like that again. You’re not soft or loving, you’re not. But Foul Legacy merely chitters, fluttering those sparkling wings that you swore used to be fins and staring at you so sincerely that you’d think he adored you.

And he does adore you, loves you, even. Ah, if only he spoke your language, the language of mortals that his tongue can’t seem to wrap around, if only he could say three simple words and hug you close, showering you in affection. But he can’t touch you. The last time he tried you had clamped your teeth down on your tongue, a drop of blood falling from your mouth as your skin burned like acid, a sickly heat creeping up before you had jolted away, gasping for air. Legacy whined in concern, trying to nudge your seemingly-unblemished hand, but you’d simply shaken your head and stepped away, slightly feverish. Every person in Fontaine is born with sin. No matter how the Nation of Justice holds trial after trial, this sin cannot be absolved. He didn’t touch you after that, merely curling his body carefully around yours during your visits, hanging on to your every rambling word and always parting with the same question- Tomorrow? Yes. You’d return tomorrow, despite your chilly expression and flat words and tone. You always return tomorrow.

The Fortress has been buzzing with energy- not that it isn’t always- but the arrival of a certain golden Traveler has kept everyone on their toes, the dread and anticipation of something happening seeping into your bones, because it’s always something whenever that Traveler and their tiny, floating companion are around. You almost prefer your monotonous routine from before, but a small smile blooms slowly on your face when you watch Foul Legacy happily splash around in the water, shaking his head and cooing as the droplets rain down around him. He chirps at you curiously, your quiet, fond expression reflected back in his sapphire eye, and you just let out a small laugh and wave your hand as he stares at this new facet of you in awe. With a soft plink, a bead of water falls and lands on your cheek, a hiss of annoyance escaping you as you quickly swipe it away, settling between your nail and finger. It burns, and your throat closes up in horror. Not a minute later, Wriothesley’s voice rings out through the building. “All residents, evacuate immediately.” There’s a crackling pop and a split second of silence, before the alarm blares and your ears ring with pain. Until one day, the water levels in Fontaine will rise, and the sinful people will slowly be drowned.

Your hands slam against the barred door, tearing desperately at the metal that mercilessly rips into your fingers and closes off the room you always guard so carefully from the rest of the Fortress- they forgot you. They forgot you. They forgot you and left you here to drown and rot, and your eyes burn with repressed tears, fear enveloping your senses like a sticky, jagged web. No no no- you swore you’d never be this afraid again, that you’d never surrender so easily again, that you’d never cry ever ever again. A soft, concerned whimper snaps your head around, Foul Legacy standing behind you. His wings droop at your damp eyes, claws twitching and curling from the urge to hold and hug and comfort you as is right and proper, banish the panic away because it scares him to see you, normally so composed and quiet, this terrified; instead he shakes his head and trills, hastily beckoning for you to follow him, boots splashing in the water stretching into a long passage. Out. It leads out. It leads out to the sea and the surface, where you can breathe and cry and admire the sun, and your feet move forward before you can even think. You want to live- yes, finally you want to live. You want to live and be able to smile and laugh again, keeping the warmth that this strange, otherworldly monster brought to your life and never let go.

With a deep breath, you plunge into the water, kicking your feet and pushing yourself in the general direction of the path. Foul Legacy guides you with his chirps, now turned to eerie, song-like notes under the waves. His tail and fins- weren’t those just wings?- propel him faster than you could ever dream, yet still he slows his pace and stays behind with you, and your heart feels like it's joining in on his melody. The water swirls around you like oil, lungs burning as a few stray bubbles trickle out of your mouth and you taste salt on your lips. What little you can see in your murky vision flickers black, and Legacy lets out a sudden, terrified shriek. In the end, the people will all be dissolved into the waters, and only the Hydro Archon will remain, weeping on her throne.

It’s just salt in your mouth now, the taste coating your tongue in a horridly thick layer. Your fingers twitch as they burn, pushing through the water with arms heavy as lead. Foul Legacy whimpers and sobs in despair, grasping his claws around your wrist to try to pull you out, get you to the surface away from this sickened water only for the ocean itself to sink its teeth in and hold fast. What’re you trying to do, again? You’re having trouble remembering where you are, what you are, who you are, scrubbing your eyes again and again and swallowing gulps of salty seawater. This is where you’re supposed to be. This feels safe, comforting- you’re going home after all this time, see, somewhere less confining and fleeting. Finally, you’ll be where you belong, free from the bindings that hold all of Fontaine in their grasp. There’s a vague sense that someone has wrapped their arms around you, faint, anguished wails echoing through the depths, and when you finally open your eyes again you see stars dancing across ripples and tides. You return to the Primordial Sea, and Foul Legacy’s talons close on only foam and bubbles. Only then will the sins of the people of Fontaine be washed away.

[thats-the-teen-spirit]

Linkin Park - From Zero - Album Review

Well, a few months ago I didn't think that I would write such a review but here we go. So Linkin Park announced their return in September followed by a tour and an album, to everyone's surprise. The new singer after the great Chester Bennington's passing was announced to be the former Dead Sara vocalist, Emily Armstrong. The announcement was followed by many controversies which I'm not gonna touch on in this review, I'm just here, purely for the music, so take all my opinions with a grain of salt.

From Zero (Intro)

A very short, barely even 20 seconds intro is a Queen-like gang vocal/choir harmony followed by Emily asking about the name of the album. It sounds like they recorded her first reaction to Mike's idea for the album name, which is - as Mike mentioned many times throughout the promotion of the album - a double entendre. From Zero means from the ground up, a new beginning which is definitely true for the band after losing a beloved former member and a friend, but also From Xero which was the first name of the predecessor band of Linkin Park. It's genius if you think about it, and by the short and cut end of the intro Emily realizes this as well.

2. The Emptiness Machine

The first single and the song that started the return. The video and the song are both great, though it left a sour taste in some fans' mouth, expecting either a Chester-imitation or someone completely different (rumors were Amy Lee and Deryck Whibley). The Emptiness Machine opens up with a modern beat and Mike's rapping, he even sings the first chorus hinting at something new to come. The second verse starts with Emily singing and while at first I thought she lacks the power Chester had, by the end of the second chorus she proves her place is right among the boys. The lyrics are about an abusive relationship to someone or something which left people thinking about Emily's past (imo the lyrics definitely fit into Linkin Park's past catalogue as well). The passion of the last chorus and the "I only wanted to be part of something" bridge will leave you wondering though: how would this song sound with Chester?

3. Cut the Bridge

Already a non-single with a choppy hard rock riff and octaves, Mike starts rapping and you realize this is definitely a Linkin Park song. In my personal opinion this sound would have fit into The Hunting Party as well as this album. I'm not the biggest fan of the chorus but it's a fun song that might get a few headbangs at concerts. Emily definitely carries this song, the bridge melody by Mike is... not the best, a little jarring and does not fit his vocal style and range. We'll hear a few moments like that in the coming songs.

4. Heavy Is The Crown

Heavy Is The Crown was the second single and the anthem of this year's League of Legends championship which gave to already one of the biggest bands of the planet some extra boost of publicity. If I had to describe this song with old Linkin Park songs I would say this is a renewed version of Faint with the breakdown of Given Up. The beat and the melody throughout the song is very Meteora-era and the "THIS IS WHAT YOU ASKED FOR" breakdown pretty much calls out the fans who wanted a nu-metal banger. It's like they knew their return was controversial and they have to do the maximum nostalgia factor to appeal to the same audience that once loved them. Emily shows her real power in this one, letting out the beast and hinting at what's coming.

5. Over Each Other

A pure Emily song and the third single. Mike is not singing nor rapping in this one, and in the video we see Emily being in a relationship, breaking up and fighting with her girlfriend until the story takes a dark turn when she fakes her own death to get away from her now ex-girlfriend. It's a very honest and upbeat song that really arrives by the second half. The lyrics show a burnt-out relationship that seems to be over soon. This one I cannot even imagine with Chester's vocals, which is the first and the last time this happened during this album. The instrumentals in the second half are (in my personal opinion) very much Minutes to Midnight-like, almost as if Rick Rubin produced this one as well.

6. Casualty

Undoubtedly the heaviest one on the record, there's barely any clean vocals, (even Mike is shouting for most of the song) and there's even a hardcore punk beat in it. This is basically like their song Victimized was on The Hunting Party instead of Living Things. The guitars and drums are filled with rage and in the bridge we hear a new sound from Emily which is very In This Moment/Maria Brink. I didn't expect a hardcore song by Linkin Park but in 2024 even that could happen.

7. Overflow

After a very lengthy intro the song arrives to a space-y, flowy verse which is reminiscent of Deftones and I.O.U, the song Mike recorded with Chino Moreno off his solo record, Post Traumatic. The chorus keeps up the same slow pace and by the bridge I figured that this song would be very fitting to A Thousand Suns. Which is possibly the only song on this record that I can say this about. Like a more modern version of a medley of that album, strange sound and it's not gonna be my most listened song but I think it will find its audience.

8. Two-Faced

Ever wanted to hear a Meteora/Hybrid Theory song sung by a female singer? Well, here you go. Imagine if Figure.09, A Place for My Head and One Step Closer got together on a drunk night and had a lovechild. The verses are also very much like Nobody's Listening, another song from Meteora. The breakdown is so much fanservice to the HT fans that it's almost exactly the One Step Closer riff (even the turntables are there). This will be one of my favorites for sure, it gives me that Cure for The Itch for a old-new HT sound. The fans who can get over to be ready for the new era of the band and only love the first album will be happy to hear this one.

9. Stained

Another song that is hard carried by Emily's vocals, I swear it's like they're doing this on purpose. Mike is one of my favorite songwriters and musicians but man, is he boring in this song. This is the first song where I felt like it's a filler. Chorus melody is alright especially in the last one where it's much more epic, but the verses, the instrumental and the overall vibe of this song is very forgettable. If I wanted to be really harsh I would say, this one is a more pop-ish song of One More Light got rerecorded with a different vocalist and distorted guitars.

10. IGYEIH

IGYEIH or I Gave You Everything I Had is another heavy banger. The riff is very nu metal, reminding me of Burn by Three Days Grace. It's another one that Emily is carrying on her back, her performance is 110% again. Mike's "the clock keeps tickiiiiing" call-ins are very much forced, and in my opinion lack chemistry with the rest of the song. The yea-yea-yea-s by Emily are also somewhat forced before the chorus, the buildup and the breakdown are great though. It's not as mid as Stained but I honestly expected better from the riff.

11. Good Things Go

Probably my favorite song of the album, straight up. The modern rap beat and Mike's work on the rapping and the wonderful vocals by Emily make this composition a pleasure to listen to. Some people I saw online compared it to Leave Out All The Rest, I don't think that is true. While this is a ballad of some sort having very emotional lyrics, it's an unfair comparison to LOATR. The delivery by both Mike and Emily is amazing though and the buildup is one of my favorites of this year, it's both relieving and cathartic. This is this album's take on Good Goodbye and this one undoubtedly wins both the message and the delivery battle.

Overall I'm not gonna lie, I expected more. Upon the second listen I realized that I lost recency bias already. Some moments turned out to be probably the worst in their catalogue while others were highlights of this year's musical journey for me. The singles are definitely the stand-out songs, though Good Things Go and Two-Faced are up among them. Emily carried most of the songs as I mentioned many times before and it's clear that the band's intention was to make the audience love her as much as they loved working with her, even if this effort cast a dark shadow on the rest of the bands' performance.

7/10

[rosy6maple6mothman6]

(Last one was Eaten by tumbls so here 2.0 I guess)

HELLO

I have both thoughts and feelings and I wish to share them.

I've fallen and I can't get up from digimon and I wanted to share who I'd like a Bruce Waynes partner digimon

Luxmon

I want him to have a sassy angel child who will not fuckin hesitate to call him out on his bullshit. Or snitch to Alfred.

We'll say this is a night that went poorly and he snapped at dick.

"hey Bruce, buddy pal boyo chum, I Will Not Hesitate,Do You Understand Me."

Walks in on Bruce stitching himself up after being EXPLICITLY TOLD TO STAY HOME AND REST.

Bruce:....

Lux:.....

Bruce: Please don-

"ALFREDO!!!!! BRUCE ISN'T TAKING CARE OF HIMSELF AGAIN!!"

At a league meeting after Bruce pissed lux off.

"WOW BRUCE! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU REALLY SAID THAT ABOUT WONDER WOMEN!!!!!!" and proceeded to lie though his teeth to get Bruce in trouble with Diana. It worked.

The batfam and co. And the league absolutely Adore luxmon,bc every time he's around they get a free showing of The Batman,one of the scariest heroes around, getting his shit rocked by a lil angel child.

It's glorious.

He also is very good at actually Helping Bruce Convey his Feelings to his family! He's a master in the language of Bruce and always lets them know that he does in fact love them: he's just shit at showing it.

It helps that he never pressures them to instantly forgive him, always telling them to take their time.

"Hey Dickie. I know Bruce was a cock tonight, and don't worry I'll handle him so expect an apology when ever your ready to hear it! I just wanted to let you know that he love you bud. I promise. Now sleep tight alright?"

Jason and Dick especially appreciated this.

Now initially the champion and ultimate stage gave me a hard time But since this is my second go at this I have them decided ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧!!!

For the champion I have chosen the unfortunately named:

Piddomon

One bc I want him to keep being the angel that looks after Bruce and his family and bc I like him have a holy fire theme. No real reason. I just think he's neat, and angemon is old.

For the ultimate I wanted to keep up the holy warrior thing,but couldn't find one I liked to you get a wizard instead:

Mistymon

Like I said this dude is Technically a wizard not a holy digimon But I don't care bc I feel like he still fits. Love piddomon staff turning into a sword and him getting stronger fire power.

Now the mega.

I knew immediately I wanted a royal knight for Bruce. He's Literally the DARK KNIGHT it would be a waste of he didn't have one, but the problem was Which knight? And I ultimately picked:

Gankoomon

I picked Gankoomon bc I felt he fit lux's personality best. Plain and simple. And bc he's fucking amazing like images Bruce doing some bad parenting while This mother fuckers around.

He dead ass has the power to turn the ground into a table made of the hardest metal in the digital world and then flip it.

That's just epic.

Now imagine someone trying to fuck with Bruce and/or the batfam and co.

There is no surviving it. He WILL curb stomp the joker.

Alfred approves.

And FINALLY we have what form he'd take with Batman. Bc I fully believe he should get something else for Batman vs for Bruce. And what better than an armored evolution:

Gargoylemon

This lil freak is fucking perfect for him. He's intimidating and fully able to swoop in to save an innocent or family and more than strong enough to fucking destroy and enemy who Tries Him. Do it. He dares you.

And he's perfectly used to hold Bruce like a baby.

And he does, quite often in fact. Literally anywhere. Bruce doesn't actually mind it he just wished he'd STOP DOING IT IN FRONT OF PEOPLE HE HAS A REPUTATION DAMNIT!

Anyway

Thanks for reading my ramblings I really enjoyed this

Even if tumbler made me redo it

Please ask me about other charters (Alfred)

Bc id love to keep talking about this and just thinking about it. It's fun

Anyways thank you

Have a good day

Bye

[redrobin-detective]

My one and only dream is for Billy to grow up in the League, he'd be the coolest guy and a legend.

He's just always chilling in his human form in the Hall or Tower and everyone has gotten used to the regular guy in the corner, kinda like a house plant, when Villians break in and evidently get jumped by some random 17 year old and no one believes em at all cause he's still scrawny.

I got kinda offended talking to my boyfriend last night because he was saying how Billy growing up defeats the point of his character, takes from the charm of a boy turning into an adult hero. But in the hands of a good author, I think it could be quite a beautiful story.

Billy grows up with the League, he's not there from the beginning but is there as it gets its legs under it and becomes a universal powerhouse. He's the JLA's darling, the unofficial little brother/psuedo-son/kid cousin that the members in the know just love and appreciate having around. They save lives every day but there's something about watching a life you helped save grow up alongside you, watching Billy go from a skinny but chubby cheeked 12 to a knock kneed, squeaky voiced teen to a confident young adult.

I imagine there is something deeply personal and fulfilling about that. For all the wrongs JLAers have done, they ensured Billy got to grow up. Because, as a streetkid without family, I bet there were times where Billy couldn't imagine making it to adulthood. That sheer sense of victory, of resilience, it makes me emotional.

Billy's 18th is a huge affair. Everyone's grinning, clapping him on the back or shaking his hand. And Bill is flipping Hal off with one hand while having a detailed conversation with Clark about his thoughts on schooling. He'd do online, community college classes while still acting as Marvel. I always envision his radio career is more of a hobby than a career, something he does for fun in an attempt to feel helpful even outside the cape and tights. Am I only one who thinks he'd be great as a counselor of sorts, helping troubled kids or even a social worker? Billy has some deep wells of compassion and wisdom that didn't come from the Wizard and I think he could make great use of it.

I always envision Bill has massive magical potential since he's so closely connected to the rock of eternity. He's trained enough to be useful in a fight outside of Marvel if need be but not much else. Even as a mortal, he has enough power to challenge the world's strongest sorcerers if only he tried. But he prefers doing things himself, he doesnt want to forget even as Billy how to be human. But so help some poor mugger who things the skinny young adult is easy pickings...

He remains skinny, a perpetually weakened immune system and slight frame a hallmark of his years on the street without proper nutrition and healthcare. He gets tattoos, tries and fails to get into reading like his dead best friend (who comes back a villain and almost shatters Bill), learns to cook and loves making food for his friends, he volunteers at shelters and soup kitchens because he will never forget that hunger, he tells adult jokes at League meetings and delights in their uncomfortable faces.

I just, in a way it's not fair that Billy hasn't been allowed to grow up. To say that he peaked at 10-12 when he was small, weak, beaten down by life. But there are good, meaningful stories to be told in the Peter Pan like boy rising from exhausting circumstances to find contentment, understanding and a fresh start in the way that only time can provide.

[baiyu-universe]

Bai Yu 2021/04/08 Bazaar interview

He is from the Northwest

Bai Yu said he is not very good at writing poems, but he uses poems to express his heart in the dead of night (x). Perhaps, poetry is the outlet of his emotions. At this late spring and early summer, together with Bai Yu, we arrived at the Chahar Volcanic Group, nearly 500 kilometers away from Beijing. The strong wind rolled up the gravel and dust, and he walked between the mountains and the earth, writing what he saw and thought into a poem (x):

石径埋火种，风卷尘飞扬。

上行路漫漫，山高天地长。

芭绿别春意，斯人何处去。

沙流金石停，吾心忆此方。

(Sorry, classical Chinese poetry is out of my league. If anyone knows how to translate them, please help!)

Bai Yu was born on the loess high slope in northern Shaanxi. This dignified and historical land has left an indelible mark on him. In the eyes of many people, he is straightforward, heroic, and likes to meet all unknown challenges. He is "the most typical northern Shaanxi guy".

His home was built in a traditional cave dwelling (yaodong) on the hillside.

"Half of it was in the earth, and the other half was built with stones. At that time, there was no glass, and all the windows were papered."

He showed us the photos on his mobile phone: "Look, this is me standing on the roof." There were two vegetable gardens in his house. They grew cucumbers, tomatoes, and a vegetable called soft ground (star jelly). It grew in moist soil, and it was also a wild vegetable that he and his friends often ate when he was a child. There was also a willow tree at the gate of the yard, which was planted when his parents got married. This willow tree accompanied Bai Yu through his carefree childhood. Today, the willow tree was cut down by later residents. Time passed by inadvertently.

Bai Yu often shares photos of noodles on social media. For him, noodles are a taste of home and an unforgettable delicacy in his childhood. As long as he can remember, there has been a fixed time every evening, when all the neighbors' children would run out of the house with their bowls in their hands, squat on the rocks, and everyone would chat and eat noodles at the same time.

Now when he is filming, no matter how hard and tired he is, being able to eat a bowl of noodles is his happiest moment.

A few days ago, Bai Yu shared a little-known noodle dish on Weibo: Ge Lao Cai Noodles (x). When he was a child, he would stop in Luochuan for a bowl of noodles every time he was on his way from Yulin to Xi'an. At that time, there were no expressways, and people used the national highway. This year, Bai Yu and his cousin went back to Yulin for the Chinese New Year. On the way, Bai Yu suddenly remembered that they were about to arrive in Luochuan, so he suggested, "Let's go down and eat a bowl of noodles." Although the location is out of their way, "we still turned around to the national highway, just to eat this bowl of noodles."

Good acting is better than anything

When he first debuted, Bai Yu experienced hardships too. At that time, Bai Yu only said one sentence to himself: "You're suffering because you're not good enough yet." He is a person who can easily look at problems from an objective perspective. At that time, there was only one thought in his mind: "If I can do it better, it will definitely not be like this."

There is no shortcut on the road to reconciliate with himself, and Bai Yu has an exclusive secret recipe for this - reading a script. In great contrast to his appearance, he has a very rich "inner drama", and he always likes to imagine various scenes before going to bed. "I would imagine how I would express it if I acted in this plot." At this point, he laughed a few times embarrassedly to hide his shyness, "Sometimes I cry while reading certain part of the script."

But in life, Bai Yu rarely cried. In his own words, these sufferings are nothing, "just carry it and it'll pass." He understands that one can never put himself in the shoe of anyone else, and ever since he realised this, he has carried many things alone like this. "I know that I can carry it, and I also want to see how far I can carry it."

What supported Bai Yu to persevere in such an environment was his consistent enthusiasm for acting day after day. It's not difficult to act in one play, but the difficulty is to be able to gain a sense of satisfaction and identity from the career he is engaged in . "Sometimes I feel an inexplicable sense of satisfaction in my heart after filming a scene. It may be a very important scene, or a less important one, or a scene where I cry my eyes out, or It's a laugh-out-loud scene, I don't know when it will appear, and I've been looking for it."

After becoming famous, what really made him happy was still the inner touch brought by acting. "For example, when I played Jiang Yang, maybe a scene that made me cry would not bring me this feeling, but a sideshow scene would give me a sudden sense of satisfaction. The feeling would make me very proud and I want to continue to enjoy it."

"We all have to find something addictive in our profession. I don't really understand why I feel a sense of satisfaction in acting. I can't control this, so I always seek for it. Maybe there is the day when I figure out why and I can get it under control, then maybe it's time for me to say goodbye to this industry."

"I've lived thirty years now, nothing is better than the satisfaction I get from acting. "

At the age of 30, everyone will undergo some changes to some extent. The biggest manifestation of this change in Bai Yu is that he has become more "selfish". At the age of 30, he has undergone considerable changes in his thinking and personality. In the past, he would worry a lot and care about the evaluation of the outside world. Now he cares more about his inner feelings: "I will strengthen my inner voice, please myself, and face myself bravely. This is where I have changed the most."

"At the end of the day, I am very grateful for my experience. I was born in Wubao, then I went to Yulin, then to Xi'an, and from Xi'an I returned to Yulin, and then back to Xi'an. From child to adult, I've met more people and experienced more things than peers of my age. Why can we tell what is 'good'? That is because we have experienced 'bad', and acting is the same. The reason why we can feel happy is because we have experienced sadness. Experience is really important to an actor."

Speak to my heart, I'll treat you to dinner.

"Poetry is an instant inspiration after encountering something."

Bai Yu described it like this. He doesn't update his social media often. After work, he shared his verses with everyone in the middle of the night. "It's just that I have feelings about something in my life. Those words appear in my mind, and I record them."

His inspiration usually bursts out in those seemingly ordinary and trivial moments. When he was looking at the moon while facing the river, he wrote down his insistence through "松问何几常青绿，唯有一答常似松". Visiting old place, he expressed his feelings by writing "细雨纷落新长安，旧人故游寻旧魂". Bai Yu interacts with fans. Sometimes he published the first line of a pair and let the fans to complete the second line. Or sometimes he asked fans for the horizontal scroll of a couplet. "Speak to my heart, I'll treat you to dinner," he said to fans jokingly (x).

Poetry is not only a language, but also the most beautiful imagination that human beings can describe as a unique individual. “Every time I write a poem, it’s like a flash of lightning suddenly flashes in my mind, and then I can start to write something. When a person has no inspiration in his mind, he cannot write a good work, and things written by racking his brain have no soul." For Bai Yu, poetry is the reflection of the soul, and the soul is the key to poetry.

"We can only write down poems when some events or things really touched us."

Bai Yu's professor once told them: "You can only guard prosperity if you are able to endure loneliness."

"All your prosperity needs to be repaid with loneliness." Bai Yu said.

One role after another, one script after another, this is the "prosperity" in Bai Yu's heart. "I have played so many roles and dramas that I like. For me, this is prosperity." In this world, there are so many people with dreams, but only a small number of them can connect their love with their careers. About this, Bai Yu signed, "I think I have been very lucky since I was a child, especially after stepping into this industry. I'm lucky and I'm feeling happy."

The writer Mu Xin once said: true maturity is that you can still separate your heart from the world after you have experienced many things. This is why Bai Yu remains simple in the face of the complicated world, "I can see many things quite clearly, but I don't want to be blunt about them nor do I want to go with the flow. I can think about all things in a complicated way, but when I do it, I will still do it in my simplest way.”

Enduring loneliness and guarding prosperity in this complicated world, the hard part is that Bai Yu can still keep it simple. He accepts all honors, disgraces and disputes. He doesn't worry too much, but focuses on the present moment. Now Bai Yu is enjoying every moment of his life, because life itself is the source of poetry.

Q&A

Q: What do you usually do at home?

A: Recently, when I stay at home, I tend to lie down on the sofa, think about things randomly, watch dramas, play with my mobile phone, read scripts, and listen to music.

Q: You have been snowboarding recently, for a long time.

A: Yes. Snowboarding is my old hobby. After so many years, I finally had a relatively long vacation to immerse myself in it. This year, I have been in the ski resort for almost a month. I went there three or four times intermittently, and each time I went for about five or six or seven days, and I stayed for more than twenty days in total.

Q: What is the reason for liking this sport?

A: Freedom. Because I am really relaxed in the ski resort, I need to wear a helmet, goggles, and wrap myself up, which makes me feel very safe. I can play what I want and as I want, and I don't need to care what other people think of me. More importantly, I like snowboarding, just like I like riding a motorbike. When you slide, there is a sense of freedom similar to riding.

Q: Between freedom and feeling at ease, which one do you yearn for more?

A: You can't have the feeling of freedom all the time. It's enough to have it when riding a motorbike or snowboarding. It's very important to feel at ease, especially when acting. Only when an actor is comfortable at performing can it feel realistic.

Q: Which character do you feel more comfortable and more at ease in the process of playing?

A: Every role has my comfortable side and my real side. But after all, the role needs to be shaped by the actor: If I am completely at ease, then the role is just me, not a work completed by me and the character. You must and need to be at ease, but you can’t feel very comfortable all the time, unless you have completely integrated the character with you in the later stage of the performance, and the logic and behavior of the entire character have been symbiotic with you. By then It's okay to be completely at ease, but the actors can't be feeling so comfortable in the early stage of the acting.

Q: Is there anything you haven't tried but would like to try?

A: Many, there are too many things that I haven't tried in my life. I really want to be a civil servant for a day, an anti-drug policeman for a day, and a doctor for a day. For example, when I was filming "Grow Up", we went to the hospital for an internship. Just one meter away from me, there was a real person lying in front of me. He was anesthetized, had his chest opened and pleura cut. With a pull, the patient's heart was revealed, and I could even smell the burning smell of the chainsaw sawing human flesh. The best cardiac surgeons in the country finished the heart surgery calmly. What a strong mentality and confident professional ability! Usually we need a (leaning and adapting) process when acting, but what is the real process (of this profession) like? What kind of environment do they face? I actually want to try and understand these things. I also want to try to be a world traveler and navigator. I have so many things I want to try. Maybe I will accomplish them step by step after I retire.

Q: Have you ever done anything romantic? What state or thing do you find romantic?

A: For me, I think one of the more romantic things I did recently was a few days ago when I went to Sanya with my family, I sat by the sea in the middle of the night for a while, alone. I didn't think about anything at the time, just sitting there, completely in a state of emptiness, and I don't know how long I sat there, and it's quite strange in retrospect. The next day I even thought that I had never been to that beach, it was like a dream.

Q: Have you thought about what career you would choose if you were not an actor?

A: To be honest, I haven't thought about it. I wished I was an e-sports player or an extreme sport athlete before (becoming an actor), but I didn't really think about what I would do if I wasn't an actor. I can't think one as I am already an actor. Even if I decided not to be an actor now, what I would want to be must be different from what I wanted in the first place.

-END-OF-THE-INTERVIEW-

Some poems/verses Bai Yu has posted on Weibo:

Hello my 31th: x (rough translation: Let the flesh grow, leave the soul to walk. Hello, my thirtyfirst.)

Verses written in 2016 with a photo: x

Asking fans for a title: x (To this, Yao Chen answered: "A Drunken Night" 🤣)

Classical poem written for wrapping up The Long Night: x (the last line contains the phrase "White Snow in the Sunny Spring". The Chinese phrase is used to refer something very high in aesthetic but in the the novel of The Long Night it refers to the characters of Jiang Yang and Zhu Wei)

To Jiang Yang: x

Classical poem written for wrapping up The Wind Blows from Longxi: x (each line of this poem starts respectively with the word "Lu" (as Lu Yang), "Kun" (as Chen Kun), "Yu" (as Bai Yu), "Long" (as Longxi)

Classical poem written when on vacation while looking at the moon along the riverside: x (Note: "Someone asked me why do I like writing poems... I can only say I have the soul of an Old Qin people.")

Classical poem written when visiting hometown city Xi'an (aka Chang'an): x

Again, if you know Chinese and how to translate classical poems or if you find poems that Bai Yu has written but I didn't include, please help me.

[40orangecuck]

Love Walks In — Close to Me (Pt.1)

In which Eddie graduates in ‘86, gets a job at Hawkins’ record store, and is a bit of a perv down horrendously for a girl who’s way out of his league. 

Eddie’s slow afternoons at the record store usually consisted of him leaning on the counter and daydreaming. He would build the narrative of the next Hellfire campaign in his head, or sometimes he’d pop on some headphones and listen to the latest release from Metallica or Sabbath, imagining Corroded Coffin performing the music. On this particularly slow Sunday afternoon, Eddie found himself daydreaming again as he mechanically unboxed some tapes. But instead of pondering D&D and rock, he let his mind slip back to a month ago: to graduation day. The last time he’d seen her. Probably the last time he would ever see her. 

She’d worn some big pearl earrings and a strapless dark green dress. Her smile was so wide as she clasped her diploma, her gown billowing behind her as she’d trotted excitedly off the stage. The sun in her wild hair and the flowing fabric of the gown gave her a truly ethereal glow: an image Eddie couldn’t forget if he tried. For a moment, he’d caught her eye from his place in line, her smile infecting him as he watched her go. Then she’d disappeared into the crowd, swept away by her proud family and her goodie-goodie friends who would have run away if he’d approached them. 

He’d wanted to say something, but what was there to say? “Thanks for not treating me like a freak when we were partners in bio?” “Hey, that one time you covered for me in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class was the coolest thing anyone’s ever done for me?” “I know we never really hungout but I think you’re smart and hilarious and so nice and drop-dead fucking gorgeous and I hate the idea of never seeing you again?” It would have weirded her out if he’d just come up to her out of the blue; she probably didn’t even remember him. Or if she did, he was just some dude who’d been held back twice who she’d been nice to out of pity. No, it was better to let her go. She was one of the few people who hadn’t treated him like a freak. It was better to remember her like that than to say something to make her realize he was a freak after all. 

Lost in the bittersweet memory and fiddling with the box of tapes on the counter, Eddie had barely registered the dinging of the front door. He could hear the sound of heels clicking on the linoleum over the radio faintly playing “Close to Me”. The clicks called to a memory he couldn’t place, eliciting subconscious excitement. He had just gathered an armful of tapes that had to be stocked when he looked up and was frozen in place. 

Her back was turned to him, untamed hair sweeping her shoulder as she surveyed the rock section. She turned her head slightly, revealing two oversized chain links dangling from her ear. They jingled lightly as she walked. A bit of lapis blue shimmer adorned the center of her eyelids, black smudging the corners. Her lips were stained a dark crimson. She flitted her fingers over some Talking Heads, completely oblivious to his awestruck presence behind the counter. That was, until the tapes he was holding slipped out of his grasp. 

“JESUS CHRIST!” he squawked, dropping to his knees behind the counter to collect the rubble of Madonna that surrounded him. He heard the clicking of heels again, realizing why the sound sent a shock down his spine. She always wore those wide heeled boots; they stopped a few inches shy of her knees, belt straps crossing the ankles. He’d watched them bounce impatiently against her desk in biology almost every day, perked up when he’d heard them announce her arrival to class. Sometimes, when she wore a shorter skirt, she’d cross her knees and the black leather of her shoes would rest perfectly against the soft skin of her thigh. He couldn’t explain the beauty of that sight, the thoughts it gave him. Thoughts he should not have been pondering while he was at work and she was mere feet away for fucks sake. God, he felt like such a creep for how he thought about her. Her mane of hair, the freckle on her collarbone, her soft pink lips. That one denim skirt of hers that showed off her upper thighs. Her legs. Fuck, her legs. 

Eddie shook his head and blinked hard, trying to physically derail his self-destructive train of thought while regathering copies of True Blue from the floor. Inhaling sharply through his nose, Eddie reminded himself of the reality of the situation. He was just her weird former classmate and she was just minding her business, looking at some music. If he was lucky, she might smile at him while he rang her up before skipping out the door. There was no way a girl like her was itching to be around the town freak. Accepting his fate and bracing himself, Eddie stood up and immediately let out a yelp. 

“bAAAH GOD DAMN IT!”

“Woah, hey Munson! Did I scare you there?” she giggled, her face leaning over the counter just inches from his own. 

“Yeah! Sorry, I—Wow ah—you fucking got me there,” he stammered, playing off the amazement as surprise. He totally hadn’t been blown away by the fact she remembered his name, addressing him with the same ease and friendliness she had in class. He had very normal emotions about the fact her face was inches from his. His knees hadn’t faltered at all when he caught a whiff of her sweet citrus perfume. 

“I’ll try to announce my presence next time. Maybe I should wear a bell like a cat,” she joked. Eddie grinned at the remark while the self-destructive gremlin in his brain imagined her wearing nothing but a black silk choker, a single bell dangling from the middle. Fuck he hated his mind. 

“You work here?” she inquired, pointing around vaguely. 

“Y-yeah! Like, selling music,” he mustered, recollecting himself a little. 

“Nice! Lot of Madonna, huh?” she gestured to the tapes in his arms. 

“You have NOOOOOO idea,” he hissed, eyes wide. The smile tugging at her lips widened. 

“It seems like they’re trying to bury you in it.”

“That’s actually my worst fear, being buried alive in Madonna. How did you know?” 

“Here, I’ll save you, just let me take a few,” she chuckled, reaching towards Eddie. 

“Good GOD woman, are you MAD? This is HAZARDOUS MATERIAL!” he hollered, jumping back dramatically. “Please, for your own safety, leave the handling to the professionals!”

She let out a fit of giggles as Eddie walked out from behind the counter, stretching out a hand in front of him to keep her away. As he did so a tape fell off of his stack and she picked it up, prompting Eddie to let out another exaggerated cry. 

“Now you’re INFECTED! Your music taste may NEVER RECOVER!”

“Never?!” she exclaimed with a wide smile, tone rising to match his. 

“Well, perhaps if you received the best treatment available,” Eddie muttered, stroking his chin as he walked to the new releases shelf. “There’s still a chance you could enjoy real music again.”

“Oh? And what’s the treatment?”

“Only the very best harmonies the human race has to offer,” he quipped, snapping back to face her after sliding the tapes into their shelf. “And luckily for you, I happen to have my very own secret stash.”

Hopping over the back counter, Eddie motioned over his shoulder for her to join him. She jumped to sit on the counter and swung her boots around to the other side, skirt shifting up her thighs as she did so. It was the denim skirt. Eddie swallowed hard and briefly clenched his left hand into a fist behind his back. Heaven help him. 

Crouching to reach, Eddie tugged hard on one of the bottom drawers behind the counter. It wouldn’t budge. He tried jiggling it side to side and up and down without success. With a knowing nod, Eddie gave the drawer a good kick with the back of his heel. It shot open, revealing about a dozen tapes scattered inside. 

“Behold! My sacred crypt of metal.”

“Holy shit!” she mused, crouching next to him and reaching for the 5150 tape. “I’ve been looking for this one for ages! Guess it was hidden back here, huh?” she teased. 

Brows furrowed, Eddie whipped his head back to stare at her. Did he hear her right? “You listen to Van Halen?”

“Just since 1984 came out, but yeah.”

His brows raised and a wide smile started in the right corner of his face. A breathy chuckle escaped his disbelieving lips. He shook his head slowly.

“What?” she asked, studying his response. 

“I just never would have pegged you as a metal fan,” Eddie mused. “You’ve got more of a…what’s the name of that girl in The Breakfast Club? And Pretty in Pink?”

“You mean Molly Ringwald?”

Eddie snapped his fingers, pointing in agreement. “Yes. Her. That’s who you’re like. You’re more of an American darling than…well, a metal-loving freak,” he gestured to himself.

She grinned shyly, looking down at her feet. Did Eddie see a blush in her cheeks? Had he made her uncomfortable? Shit, he shouldn’t have admitted he thought she looked like that actress chick. It’d just slipped out. She did dress like her, and her big eyes were even more captivating.

“Well, not all of us chose to show off our eccentric tastes like you do, Munson,” she teased. “Doesn’t mean I enjoy good music any less.” A smirk tugged at her lips as she gazed at him through her lashes. He breathed out a chuckle, face still plastered with awe. 

“Well, in that case,” he said, stepping back and slapping one of the huge stereo speakers lined against the back wall. “I’ll let you choose an album to play on these bad boys.” She rubbed her hands together, wearing a mischievous grin and biting the corner of her bottom lip. Eddie licked his lips at the sight. 

He watched her as she crouched next to the cache of tapes. Her messily-painted sparkly blue fingernails hovered over them, dancing lightly as she made her decision. A squiggly copper ring with a single, large red bead hung on her right middle finger. There was one of those little gold rings with two hands holding a heart on her pinky. He’d seen other girls wearing them, but he never knew what they meant. Was it some kind of promise ring? He wasn’t surprised by the thought she had someone, but it made his chest feel like a hollow cavern. His eyes darted away from her hands and were immediately met with the sight of the skin between her thighs and ass, right below the hem of her skirt. Turning redder than her lipstick, Eddie turned his head sharply and covered his mouth with his fist. He began counting ceiling tiles like his life relied on it. 

“This one,” she piped up, confidently holding Powerslave out to him.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Eddie chuckled, giving into his yearning to look at her again as he reached for the tape. His fingertips brushed hers as he clasped it. She glanced at the tape and then up at him with an unassuming smile. Blinking profusely, he turned away from her and busied himself with the stereo quickly. He didn’t think his face could feel any hotter, and he was all but certain he looked like a tomato.

With the press of a few buttons and a satisfying *click*, the shrill guitar and building drums of Aces High’s intro began to play. Eddie air guitared for a moment, head banging in time with the slow beat of the drums. Turning around, Eddie found her sitting on the counter, legs crossed and t-shirt hanging a bit off her left shoulder. Just like him, she was banging her head with the slow drum beats. Then, both of them paused as the intro slowed. Locking eyes and raising their brows in anticipation, they waited until the tempo sped up and the guitar resumed, and proceeded to head bang furiously, in sync with the new beat. Eddie kept going for a few seconds, but found himself stopping to admire her hair as she moved enthusiastically. He’d thought his hair was good for head banging. It was nothing compared to the storm on her head. It was completely unfair how sexy it was. 

She stopped after a few seconds, giggling at herself and grinning ear-to-ear as she pushed hair away from her face. As he drank her in, Eddie couldn’t keep a grin from creeping up his face. She was downright infectious. 

“Seems like you got a pretty good gig going here,” she remarked. “Access to good music and a bitchin’ sound system? I’m jealous.”

“Yeah, I just wish I could play this kinda stuff more. Boss man gets mad when I play it around customers.” The store owner, Frank, wanted music on the speakers to be “family appropriate”. But as long as Frankie boy wasn’t around and the store was empty, Eddie could play whatever he wanted. When he got a closing shift he would practically sprint to put on some Def Leppard after turning the front sign to read “closed.” He would jump and sing along while sweeping, twirling the broom around like a sword or a microphone. On one or two occasions, he had danced with the broom while imagining it was her. He had dreamt up the vague toss of her hair and the crinkling of her eyes, but every inch of him yearned to see the real thing. If he had one dance with that woman, he would be able to die a happy man. 

“Ugh, tell me about it! My manager gets so bitchy when I—,” 

Suddenly, her gaze fixed on the clock above Eddie’s head and her eyes widened. “Shit, I’m almost late!” she hissed, tossing her legs over the counter and hopping down on the other side. 

A dull panic hit Eddie as he saw her preparing to leave. There was too much he wanted to say and nothing he actually could, but he knew he needed to try. He let the pounding in his chest spur him towards her, grabbing the 5150 tape as he did. 

“Wait, here, take it,” he sputtered, arm jutting the tape over the counter. “You, uh, said you were looking for it? I feel like an asshole for stashing away the last one.”

“Eddie, that’s so—thank you!” she beamed, pressing the tape to her chest. “How much you want for it?”

“You kidding me? Your money’s no good here!” he exclaimed, batting the air. “I always meant to, uh, to thank you for your help. In O’Donnell’s. This is the least I could do.” 

“That’s…that’s really sweet. Thank you.” Her eyes softened as her gaze met his. 

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie muttered through a soft smile. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, eyes wandering to her slightly-smudged red lips. The rhythm of his heart jumped as he traced the glossy shine of her lower lip with his gaze. Eddie had to force himself to look away, suddenly becoming very grateful for the counter hiding his lower body.

“Ah! I—I’ve gotta run, but I’ll see you around!“ she called over her shoulder, smiling as she jogged towards the door. 

“Y-yeah! See you,” Eddie called, waving as a dazed smile grazed his lips. After watching her dash down the street, Eddie threw his hands over his face and groaned.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groaned. “I am sooooo fucked.”

Notes: Been working on this for a while and I've got plans for upcoming parts. Stay tuned ;)

[moss-covered-thoughts]

OOOOO YALL BEEN UP TO SOME GOOD SHIIIT

totally behind the reveal gone bad/ don't trust adults thing

Imagine they eventually send bats over, who yeah, is big dark and scary but the best with noticing little details/ very very very good with judging character. And comes to kneel where danny is on his phone playing candy crush. Danny ignores him but batman can tell he's watching of course, notices the sweat building and the way he scooches a little further away, still pressed against the summoning barrier.

Batman sighs like "can you tell me what you're doing?' he nodded to the phone.

"compartmentalizing." A short, subdued voice. Very different from the screeching demon sounds from earlier. Could still be part of the manipulation though.

"what do you mean by that?"

"pretending I'm not here obviously, what do you mean what do I mean?"

"... If you would just negotiate with justice league dark over there, we will let you return to your realm."

That made Danny snap, and he suddenly looked up to batman, looking straight into his masked eyes. "Oh, you mean if I just do exactly what you tell me to? Yeah right. You guys think you're the good guys, which is really much worse than just admitting you're a bad guy."

He glared. Bruce was startled.

"we are here to ensure the.protection of our world."

"by destroying being not from your world? Yeah, been there done that. Gets old. Fuck off, I don't need your propaganda"

This was devolving fast.

Constantine stepped in, and Danny flinched (he could feel the multiple contracts and enchantments on the man, this man dealt with demons and bartered in souls. Danny didn't want to be anywhere near him. And.he we trapped).

"we just need to clock the new king and ensure entities like you won't be passing through to wreck our dimension"

Dannys nostrils flared. "Entities" he spit the word out "like myself only have access to this world when YOU pull us through. We don't make ourselves" someone had to kill them, went unsaid.

"untrue mate, ever heard of demons?"

"ever heard of minding your own business?"

They all blinked at the child-like response. They still didn't believe he was a child though.

"plus, demons aren't ghosts. I really feel like someone like you should know that already."

Zatanna stepped over, and Danny impulsively shot out an ecto blast. it collided with the barrier harmlessly. None of them even flinched

"you're the ghost king. You have control over the dead"

"have you ever met a dead person? They have a nasty habit of not giving 2 shits who's in charge, actually"

"Listen kid, that binding circle you're in means you have to listen to us, acrually" Mr lung cancer spoke again. "We won't release you until we've come to an understanding."

Danny paled, looking between them. He pulled out his phone again, sitting back to rock back and forth. He definitely definitely wasn't thinking about.his parents, how they were never going to let him go-- strawberry down, that's one row gone--

Then a green portal opened somewhere behind him and he heard British guy curse and several other 'heroes' instrinctually react.

Danny felt his shoulders relax as the spectre speeder came barelling through, Dani and Val on their heel.

A short fight ensued, which consisted of a great number of very inappropriate name calling and insults. Dani in particular caused a lot of damage and we as fast enough to keep the others from catching her. A goth girl has come out of the vehicle to run over to Danny, pulling out a green and orange gun before shooting the edge of the circle and ran to Danny as they hugged. Danny was definitely still shaking. they turned to leave, to be met with a dark and looking Bruce.

"let me go"

"we need information from you"

So had his parents. They needed to know how they worked, after all. For research.

"I said. Let me GO"

Danny let out a wail. All of the heroes dropped, his friends having devices for blocking it. They all loaded up and boom portaled outta there.

The league members all compared notes later and agreed none of the entities looked physically older than 15. But that couldn't be true. Right?

DP x DC summoning

So a classic staple of this crossover is some poor schmuck trying to summon Pariah and getting Danny

How this usually goes is Danny either flexes on them or nopes out of there

So in Hellblazer one of the things you want to summon a powerful otherworldly entity is not only their ritual, but their name. The ritual brings them there, the name is used as part of the binding that provides a summoner protection against the thing they just summoned

So just a thought

Danny has that happen a couple times, he’s summoned and he just nopes out of there and either assumes it’s just a halfa thing or just doesn’t notice it’s weird

So imagine the first time someone actually properly summons him

Be it Zatana or John who have or course heard about the change in management and have properly bound the spirit they’ve summoned. Hell maybe it’s someone like Felix Faust and he’s been summoned by a villain

Danny just peace signs and then immediately flies right into an invisible wall and nearly breaks his nose

[shig-a-shig-ah]

LAYING CLAIM

» pairing: dabi x fem!reader

» cw: dubcon, revoked consent, noncon (we’re going on a journey, okay?), rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, crying, gratuitously fanon characterization. 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: Started this months and months ago, and since I’m finally getting around to wrapping some WIPs, I guess you can have it now. Thanks @thebiggergroove​ for beta-reading!

» wc: 5.3k

» ao3 mirror

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The thing about Dabi is he's not usually a possessive guy. Fucking is fucking, as far as he's concerned—it doesn't really matter who is doing it with whom as long as everyone is getting off on it. But goddamn if there isn't something about you that makes him want to make you his.

And he's gotten that, more or less. It took some sweet talking and cajoling, and a few late nights where he made you come until you couldn't see straight, but you agreed not to go sleeping with anyone else. Sure, you've made him promise the same, but that's fine. Not that he's going to actually stop, of course, but he goes out on recruiting missions alone and he figures what you don't know won't hurt you.

That's all enough to satisfy him, at least for a little while. But then a few weeks pass and there it is again: that stupid jealousy and all those unbidden thoughts about the people you were with before him. People he knows. You never talk in too much detail about your past hookups, but he's not stupid, is all too aware that he's not the first one in this ragged band of miscreants that you've crawled into bed with. You've fucked Jin, and Shigaraki, and probably even Magne, god rest her soul—Dabi hadn't missed the way the two of you had huddled up giggling in the corner of the old bar one night, disappearing together unusually early, making those bedroom eyes at each other. And in theory that's fine. Nothing wrong with two girls having fun together, after all. Hell, bi chicks are hot and Dabi wouldn't mind taking advantage of that someday.

But first he needs to find a way to get the image of you with your legs spread for half the League out of his goddamn head.

If he's being honest, it's Shigaraki who bothers him the most. Magne is dead. Jin is a decent dude and, Dabi has to imagine, tame as a kitten in the sack. But Shigaraki, well...Dabi can tell just by looking at the guy that he's a freak, and the idea of you riding Shigaraki's dry, crusty dick, of letting him do who-knows-what filthy shit to you? It just gets to him.

And then Toga has to suggest that stupid game and go putting ideas in his head.

You're all sitting around the crumbling office space that passes for a hideout, drinking to celebrate the League's first successful double-amputation (because fuck that germophobic, transphobic prick), and blondie is just begging to play a drinking game. Normally Dabi doesn't go for that shit—why anyone needs an excuse to get wasted is beyond him—but he's in a good mood, and you make that adorable pouty face as you tell him that you played in college, that it's really fun, and somehow he finds himself sitting in a circle on the dusty floor with the rest of you losers playing 'I haven't' or whatever the fuck it's called.

It's all bland shit to start. Toga's never driven a car, Shigaraki's never gone to school. But, after you've made your way around the circle once, everyone seems to be loosening up and Spinner takes one for the team by getting to the interesting shit and admitting he's never slept with a girl. It spurs a moment of awkward silence made all the worse by his red face and obvious self-consciousness about being a virgin, but then Compress stage-whispers "Neither have I," before winking salaciously at the blushing lizard and taking a dramatic pull from his beer bottle. It's enough to lighten the mood.

After that, Dabi's forced to admit it's a decent game. There's not much he hasn't done sexually or criminally, and since those are the two topics everyone focuses on, he finds himself getting hammered faster than usual. It's a good thing too—his buzz makes it easier to ignore the look you and Shigaraki exchange when Jin announces that he's never tried watersports, easier to pretend his gut isn't twisting at the knowing smirk on your leader's face as he raises his beer bottle to drink and you follow suit.

That particular moment makes it all the more surprising when, on your next turn, you hide an embarrassed face behind your hand and announce that you've never taken it in the ass.

Dabi can't stop thinking about it the rest of the night. Obsessing over it, and the idea of being your first, your only, even if only in some less than conventional way. The thing is, it's downright tame in comparison to a lot of what you two get up to, so barely even kinky that it's almost impossible to believe you've never tried it. Sure, you've never done it together, but he'd just figured neither of you were all that into it, since it hadn't come up when you were doing lewd shit to each other.

That kind of sex is fine from his perspective, but only fine. He doesn't actively seek it out because in his mind nothing beats the feel of being balls-deep in a warm pussy, but that doesn't mean he hasn't done it. He's hooked up with plenty of girls that were into it and has always been happy to oblige; hell, he's even taken it more than once, on account of the fact that when it comes to the bedroom he's willing to try anything twice.

But doing it with you? Well, that thought sticks. The two of you finally go to bed and Dabi's so turned on by the idea of your virgin ass that he can't help testing the waters, prodding teasingly at that tight hole with one spit-slicked finger until you're squirming away and whining. He doesn't manage to convince you right then, but he makes those puppy dog eyes that are far more effective than they have any right to be, and you agree to give it a go in the future.

"Not here," you specify, the words fuzzy on your drunken tongue. "Someplace nicer, with a real bed." You already have your reservations, and you certainly don't relish the idea of undertaking that particular venture now, on a worn mattress in this falling apart building, with its paper-thin walls and complete lack of hot water. Between your booze-fueled haze and the seeming interminability of the League's poverty, you mostly forget about that casual promise by the following morning.

But Dabi doesn't. He picks up a small bottle of lube the next day and carries it around in his pocket shamelessly, a little reminder that he has something to look forward to besides roasting that prick Endeavor, and he strokes himself off to the idea more than he's proud to admit as he waits for the League to move on to better things. He can be patient, when he needs to be.

That patience takes a toll though, and the minute the League settles into their new digs in Re-Destro's sprawling villa, where there's actually privacy and clean, comfortable beds, Dabi shows up at your door with a cheshire grin and every intention of finally getting something from you that's just for him.

You grimace when you remember that promise, try briefly to talk him out of it even, but he isn't so easily dissuaded. It's made all the harder by the fact that you can't give him a specific reason why you've never tried it, beyond that it seems uncomfortable and you hadn't particularly enjoyed the couple instances when you'd allowed someone to slip a finger or two in there.

"C'mon, baby girl," Dabi coos, his breath hot in your ear as he pins you to the wall, working two unnaturally warm fingers into your cunt. "I'll make sure it's good for you. Be gentle, get you nice and warmed up first, all that sweet shit."

It really is unfair how persuasive he can be when he fixes those pleading turquoise eyes on you. The way the pads of his fingers are curling just right deep inside isn't helping either, and he teases you like that until you give in to his cajoling, though you still insist on waiting a couple nights so that you can do your research and make sure you're entirely prepared. Dabi demonstrates his appreciation by burying his face in your cunt and not surfacing for air until you've come three times and are begging for a break.

When the night finally arrives, Dabi's feeling positively giddy. He slips into your bedroom with a bottle of wine and a couple glasses he's brought, a little something to help you relax because he's a gentleman when he wants to be. It should be good booze too—he lifted it from Re-Destro's private stash, and he's certain baldy doesn't drink anything that costs less than ¥30,000. Of course, Re-Destro doesn't love sharing either, but the uptight prick is too scared of Shigaraki to complain about anything the League does. They all take advantage of that, because they can and because it's fun to watch him bite his tongue when they piss him off.

You don't make it easy for Dabi to focus on pouring the drinks though, not when you're reclining in that armchair by the window, freshly showered and fidgeting nervously. He was half-erect before he got here from just thinking about what he was going to do to you, and the sight of you acting like you're some blushing virgin spurs him all the way to rock-hard. By the time your glasses are close to empty, he's straining uncomfortably in his pants, and can't fight back his impatience any longer.

"What do you think, doll?" he murmurs, setting his glass to the side and standing up, shrugging his jacket off before leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. "You ready to move this to the bed?"

The way you chew at your lower lip anxiously before nodding makes his dick throb.

You empty your glass with one final, large swallow, your heart racing as you rise. You know it's stupid—you and Dabi have fucked countless times and a lot of it hasn't exactly been vanilla—but it's been a long time since you've actually tried anything new. His obvious excitement doesn't help either, paradoxically; it leaves you fretting about what will happen if you're somehow bad at this, or if you can't take it and have to stop. You've never really worried about disappointing him before, but now the thought weighs acutely on your mind.

It's with halting steps that you approach the bed and then, when you can't realistically drag your feet any longer, you finally tug the nightgown you're wearing off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor to reveal what's underneath.

"Damn, baby girl," Dabi breathes, looking you up and down. You'd figured that since it was a special occasion you might as well dress up, donning a strappy bra and panties. They're little more than elaborate, crisscrossing pieces of lace, all white since he'd seemed so fixated on this pseudo-innocent, first-time act. His reaction doesn't disappoint, eyes lighting up as he stares at you hungrily.

You let yourself fall back on the bed, nestling against the many pillows. The look on his face has your stomach fluttering, and the wine has helped you to relax a bit despite your nerves, a pleasant warmth spreading throughout your body. It's joined by a different kind of heat when you feel the mattress dip beneath Dabi's weight as he positions himself over you, one knee resting between your thighs, just barely brushing against your center, a hint of what's to come.

"You look so good I could just eat you up," Dabi whispers hotly against your ear before tracing his lips over your jaw. Even though he wants to take his time, let himself savor this, it's taking every ounce of patience he has to keep the promise he made to get you worked up and ready for him, to not to tear those pretty bits of satin and lace off and have his way with you right then.

You whine eagerly when his mouth slants hungrily over yours, savoring the feel of those mismatched lips, the way the rough skin of the bottom one contrasts so deliciously with the top. Hot hands run over your sides as the kiss deepens, your tongues tangling together, and you moan against him.

When you finally break for air, Dabi moves his lips to your throat, his tongue lapping at your pulse before he sinks his teeth into you. He loves to mark you up, loves making sure everyone can see that you're indisputably his, and it's even hotter now that he knows he's going to fuck you in a way no one else has. You're shivering beneath him as he works, your hand tugging insistently at his hair, and Dabi lets out a low, throaty growl.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's eager, huh?"

Your hips tilt in response, pressing needily into his firm thigh, and Dabi can feel the skin on his cheeks straining against his staples as he grins. He traces one hand up over your ribs, cupping at your supple breasts, teasing your hardening nipple through the flimsy fabric of your bra. Those deft fingers work under the seam of your lingerie as he shifts his weight, increasing the pressure against your center while he pinches and tugs at the peaks of your breasts until you're whimpering, spreading slick along his leg even through your thin panties.

Dabi pulls away abruptly, rolling onto his back and tugging at you to change positions, shaking his head when you move to mount his hips.

"Come here, baby girl," he says, his tongue tracing over his bottom lip. "Like I said, I wanna eat you up."

The promise in those words sends a bolt of heat straight through your core as he guides you to straddle his face, hot breath tickling your inner thighs. One calloused thumb brushes your clit lightly through your underwear, blue eyes sparkling when your breath hitches at that soft touch. When he pulls that useless fabric to the side and runs his tongue over your already-damp slit, you shudder.

Dabi lets out a pleased groan at your reaction and gets to work more earnestly, lapping at your sensitive nub, licking and sucking until you're moaning and only then shifting a little so that he can lap at your insides, that same rough thumb replacing the pressure of his tongue on your clit. It strokes firm circles as he buries that hot, wet muscle inside you, the metal barbell there teasing your inner walls as you grind involuntarily against it. You can't help but whine when he withdraws it, but that disappointment is quickly replaced by you startling as that same wet muscle extends further back to tease at your puckered entrance.

"A-ah, Dabi, wait," you protest, your face heating up self-consciously almost at once.

Dabi pauses, shifting just enough to keep his reply from being muffled as one warm hand runs reassuringly up your thigh. "I don't think I can help myself, doll," he says, his slick-coated lips splitting into a wide grin, "you just taste too good."

That heat in your face worsens as he dives back in, not even waiting for you to respond before he's flexing his tongue to poke at that tight ring of muscle. You still try to squirm away, feeling unprepared for this. You hadn't even considered it among the possible activities were volunteering to participate in, but Dabi is holding you firmly in place with the hand not working at your clit, and when another whine of protest escapes you, it's weaker than the first. The foreign sensation of his tongue against your neglected hole has you hyperaware of the press of his thumb at your apex, and you can feel tension building in your core even as you writhe in embarrassment.

It's as though he knows, too, and you suppose maybe he does; after all, he's the one who's done this before. He thrusts his tongue a little deeper, rolling your clit between two hot fingers with enough pressure to cut off any further protests. A long moan is the only sound you can muster as you spill over the edge, your thighs clenching around his head and your hips jerking shakily as you ride out your climax with his tongue still buried obscenely in your rear.

Dabi's face is covered in your juices by the time he slides from between your thighs, and he wipes it away carelessly with one arm as he repositions you again, pinning you on your back and wasting no time peeling away your now-soaked panties. He grins at the sight of your glistening folds and swollen clit before stripping off most of his own clothes, kicking them unceremoniously to the side and relaxing between your legs, kissing at your still-trembling thighs.

He teases at your sensitive cunt with his fingers, coating them in your juices as you whimper. "Ready for a little more?" he asks, and you nod despite the fact that your cheeks are still burning from before and your stomach is knotting with nerves.

"Just...go slow, okay?"

"Of course, baby girl," he promises, "I told you I'd take good care of you." With that, he starts to work you open, dipping one finger into your tight hole just until he reaches the first knuckle, working it in and out slowly. His other hand toys at your clit, stroking and rolling that puffy nub again, making you mewl.

Dabi waits until you're relaxed before trying any more, pulling away from you just long enough to dig the lube from the pocket of his discarded pants, coating his fingers with it. He works that lone finger deeper this time, in and out until it's buried to the last knuckle.

The sensation is strange, but not entirely unpleasant; even if you think you'd rather have that finger curling in your cunt, the slight stretch is still adding to the faint throb already growing inside you, the one that worsens when his thumb returns to your apex.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Dabi growls when one well-placed stroke of his thumb has you clenching lightly around his finger. He ruts his hips against the sheets, trying vainly to find some relief for his aching member, but it's not enough—he needs to feel you, needs the vice-like grip clutching his fingers to be wrapped around his cock, and he needs it soon.

You feel him withdraw to add more lube, and then he's fingering you again, adding another digit to stretch you wider. It comes with a stab of discomfort when he forces his way past the second knuckle, and you reflexively try to pull back. "Dabi, that's too much."

He abandons his soothing attentions to your clit, one warm palm pressing you tight against the mattress to keep you in place, stroking soothingly at your hip. His breath tickles over your inner thigh as he chuckles softly. "If you can't take this, how are you ever gonna take me, hmm?" he says teasingly. "You're doing great, baby, just relax."

You will yourself to unclench, trying to picture Dabi's satisfied face once you're taking him, that adoring look he sometimes gives you, the one that you relish. Your efforts are only marginally effective, but Dabi keeps pushing deeper, fucking you slowly but insistently with those fingers, and when you don't complain again, his thumb returns to caressing your sex.

"That's a good girl." Dabi picks up the pace, cursing under his breath. "You're doing so good."

You're wriggling against his hand now, trying to increase the friction at your center, not quite minding the foreign sensation of his fingers and the uncanny fullness they bring so much now that there's heat thrumming in your core. "Y-yeah, like that," you pant encouragingly, and Dabi grins.

"That doing it for you?" he purrs. "Think you can take more?"

You start to shake your head—the stretch now feels like all you can handle—but Dabi's already adding a third slick finger, shoving it in with less restraint than before. You feel more than discomfort this time when three knuckles breach your asshole, and it quickly dampens the arousal that had been steadily building. "Dabi, slow down," you gasp.

"Aw, are you sure you can't handle it?" His blue eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide with arousal as he looks you over with the hungry gaze. "'Cause if I'm being honest, it feels like you're trying to suck me in. Like this greedy little hole wants to get fucked."

The huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, even as another whine of discomfort escapes you. For just a second his expression darkens slightly, but then he's slowing his movements, twisting his fingers instead of thrusting them in and out.

"Better?" he asks, and you think you catch an edge of impatience in his voice.

It is better though, a little at least, enough that you can focus on the way your cunt flutters every time his thumb strokes over your clit. So you just nod; it's not like this wasn't bound to be a little unpleasant at points, right?

Dabi's smile stretches wider, his thumb working faster. A mewl slips from between your lips and Dabi takes that as encouragement, his fingers resuming their persistent thrusts. It's still uncomfortable, though not quite as bad as when he started, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to bite back your complaints. You let your eyes fall closed instead, trying to focus on his attentions to your hooded nub, on the heat that's pooling in your lower belly. You're inching towards another release, and you let a hand lift to your breast, tweaking at the pebbled flesh of one nipple to help yourself along.

"D-dabi, I'm close," you stammer, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Yeah?" His movements speed up, his voice breathy and excited. "Do it, baby girl. Come for me and then I'm gonna fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You swallow hard, trying not to dwell on those words for now—you can tell you've loosened up more, tolerating the jab of his fingers, but his cock is substantially larger than those, all too intimidating. Thankfully, it's not hard to remain distracted, to focus only on your approaching peak.

Dabi can feel that orgasm rip through you when it hits, your asshole clenching around his fingers as you keen, and it's then that he reaches the limits of his patience. He needs you now, needs the thrill of burying himself in your tight ass and claiming you for his own, of reaching his own release deep inside and then watching his seed spill out afterwards. What a satisfying sight that will be.

He scrambles up from between your legs to catch your lips with his, fumbling his boxers off as his tongue invades your mouth. When he pulls away, his eyes are bright, needy. "Ready for me?" he asks.

You're not, not really, but you can see the fervor in his eyes, hear the urgency in his voice, and you convince yourself that he won't be able to work you open much more with his fingers no matter what. Your agreement doesn't matter anyway—he's already rolling you onto your side and slotting his chest against your back, his straining erection poking at the cleft between your thighs.

"Like this?" you ask, surprised by the choice of position.

"Just like this," he pants in your ear. His teeth nibble at your lobe as he slicks his cock generously with lube. "Want you spooned against me so I can see those cute faces you make, feel you squirming when you take me."

And fuck, when he slips one hand back down to finger your asshole one last time, it doesn't disappoint—your body ripples against him when that invasion catches you off guard, and he can see the way your lips part obscenely as you gasp at his touch. His fingers abandon your tight hole almost as quickly as they'd entered, and then Dabi is aligning himself with your entrance, using the last of his restraint not to slam his hips forward and bury himself inside with a single thrust.

You can feel the spongy head of his glans, and the slick coolness of the ring that adorns his tip, prodding at your rear. One of his arms worms its way under your side, his hand groping distractedly at your breasts as you tense in anticipation.

"Relax, baby girl," he murmurs, but he doesn't wait for you to even try. He's already slipping in, moving slowly until he encounters resistance an inch or so inside, and then pausing.

He has to struggle to keep his composure. Even like this, with not even the full head of his cock in your ass, his balls are tightening, just the thought of what he's doing nearly enough to send him over the brink. He waits until he's sure that won't happen and then starts moving, pushing insistently to work you open around his length with shallow thrusts.

"A-ah, Dabi, g-go easy," you stutter, already squirming. You can feel your body resisting the intrusion, so much larger than his fingers, and it aches slightly every time he tries to breach that inner ring.

"I am, baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you." His cheek is nuzzling against yours, his lips kissing and sucking wherever he can reach, but his motions don't change at all even as he murmurs so sweetly. He only slings one arm over your hips, toying lazily at your clit. That attention helps you relax, helps distract you a little, but it's not enough to prepare you for when he drives himself in further, finally surging past that taut band of muscle.

The invasion brings a sharp pain, one that has you crying out. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your body reflexively contorting to try and escape the cause of that hurt, but his arms tighten around you, holding you in place as he continues to work himself deeper with every thrust.

"Dabi, that hurts." Your words are sharper this time as each stroke sends another unpleasant throb through your overstretched hole, but his only response is to plunge the fingers rubbing at your clit into your dripping cunt.

"Shh, you're doing great." He curls his fingers, stroking against that spongy spot deep inside. It makes you writhe, but that does nothing to address the pain between your legs as he fucks you.

"Dabi, don't, that's not helping, I—"

"It's okay, baby girl, you're taking me so well," Dabi coos. You'll adjust, he knows you will—you're usually up for anything, of course you can take this. And fuck, there's no way he can stop now, not when it's even better than he'd imagined—hotter and softer, your pillowy walls enveloping his length every time he plunges into you, the exquisite tightness of your entrance massaging his shaft with each thrust.

"I'm not— I don't— I don't want to do this anymore." You can hear the desperate edge in your voice now. Your heart is racing and there's a cold sweat forming on your skin as tears of pain and confusion start to leak down your cheeks. "Dabi, stop."

"Shh, shh, you're fine. You—fuck—you feel so amazing. 'S never been this good with anyone else, fuck."

"I don't care, I don't want this." You can't understand what's happening, why he's not listening. You twist your head to look at him, pleading with your eyes, but he's barely even focusing on you. His blue eyes are glazed and half-lidded as his lips wander over your shoulders and your neck, all the while murmuring those useless reassurances against your skin. You're thrashing now, your feet scrambling for purchase on the sheets as you try frantically to pull away, but he keeps his tight grip on you, one of his legs hooking around your own to hold you in place. "Dabi, I said stop!"

He shushes you again, rutting into you harshly, and a choked sob escapes you when he bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your backside as you struggle against him. You feel sick to your stomach, and it only worsens when he pulls out until nothing but his tip remains, then drives himself back in with one agonizingly rough thrust.

You keep begging, pleading, wracking your brain and trying every past safe word you can recall, but he only continues to pound into you, his breathing erratic as he pants in your ear. "It's okay, baby. You're taking my cock like such a good girl. You're—ngh—making me feel so good."

The ache between your legs is diminishing slightly as you adjust to his girth, your body entirely unconcerned with whether you want that or not. He's still fingering your sopping cunt too, his palm grinding against your oversensitive clit with each plunge of his long digits, the lewd squelching sound of those attentions mingling with the sharp slap of his hips against your ass as he fucks you.

"You like this?" he asks, but you know he's not really asking. "You like knowing I'm the only one? That I'm making you mine, just mine, just like how it should be?"

"Dabi, stop. Please stop." Your appeals are feeble now, far more for yourself than for him as you continue to utter them between quiet sobs. Dabi's somewhere far away, awash in the tight heat of your ass and the satisfaction of finally staking his claim on you, aware of your supplications but not hearing them, not really.

You slump, still sobbing, and let him take what he wants. His attentions to your cunt have a coil tightening in your gut, but when your climax hits it's perfunctory and mechanical, no real pleasure to be found even as your hips jerk and your holes spasm, a joyless whine passing from your lips.

No real pleasure for you, at least. But fuck, the feel of you squeezing around his cock as you come is what Dabi has been waiting for, your insides massaging his length as though desperate for him to decorate your walls with his cum. It's a gift he's glad to grant—he rocks his hips more urgently, keeping his thrusts shallow now so that he's sure to get it all deep inside.

"Fuck," he groans against your neck. "Gonna make me come, baby girl. That what you want? Want me to fill you up?" You shake your head, but his movements are already growing spurtive and erratic, his grunts louder and throatier, and then you can feel his cock jerking inside you, a hot rush of cum flooding your guts.

Dabi doesn't stop then, either, keeps fucking his seed into you until he's softening, not quite able to work himself in and out of your tight, abused hole any longer, and only then does he finally pull out, a dribble of cum leaking obscenely down your thigh.

You're sniffling, drawing shaky breaths, and you try to pull away the moment his arms relax around you. They only tighten again, his lips planting soft kisses along your temple.

"Shh," he murmurs. The sound of his shushing makes you want to scream. One hand lifts to wipe at the tears on your cheeks. "You were so good, baby girl, there's no need to cry. You were fucking incredible." He means it too, doesn't think he's ever come so hard in his life as he did now, making you his.

Dabi can't wait to do it again.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

um

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

[paladin-blog]

No shade to the OPs but I kinda hate this post. There's a lot more to Waddell's life than some whimsy - baseball was his third love, behind fishing and drinking. His alcoholism was so bad he was kicked off/traded from multiple teams, brutally assaulted his parents, married three times in a decade, and destroyed any and all relationships he had. To ignore this and use the funnier parts of a violent drunk's life to argue with idiots about an already infantilized and stigmatized condition is infuriating and unhelpful. The "idiot savant" trope oozes from the tweet, somehow ignoring the simple truth that an athletically gifted farm boy who grew up throwing rocks at birds and doing hard labor would be a gnarly pitcher in the dead ball era. Sure maybe he was autistic, maybe he had ADHD, maybe he was just dumb, maybe it was all three - but it's wildly speculative and frankly irresponsible. This is where the soapbox gets kicked out from under me, but you can keep reading if you care to learn more about Rube and baseball history.

~~~

Described as a "kid at heart", Waddell was indeed assigned a handler during his tenure on the Philadelphia Athletics (ie. a babysitter), not due to his fleeting attention but due to his drinking. The handler was a trained fighter, and was there to make sure he didn't and couldn't drink, by holding onto his money and fighting disgruntled bar owners trying to collect tabs.

While team owners owned everything including their players until the 70s, early 20th century baseball lacked the whole indentured servitude type beat that the draft and federation brought along. Players, especially pitchers, fucking off between starts or traipsing around New England wouldn't be nearly as much of a problem if it happened today. Waddell was a pitcher, an insanely good pitcher, and considering drinking didn't impact his performance (except passing out on the mound in 1907) it's not impossible to surmise he would've been drunk/hungover on the mound as well.

This isn't to blame everything on his drinking, but to frame any potential postmortem diagnosis. Without context, being easily distracted makes you imagine a batter staring off as a ball whizzes past him into the glove, going down on strikes. Being a pitcher, there is no split second decision making, or plate decisions, to worry about. He could easily look off into the stands, coo at the puppy or whatever, turn back and deal another nasty curve. He was an extremely confident pitcher, known for shooing his team off the field during exhibition games, to prove his dominance on the mound. As I mentioned, this was the dead ball era. Pitchers ruled the game, as new rules, uneven and heavily reused balls, and slightly better fields and fielders put batters in a tough spot.

Anyways, my overarching point is to label Waddell as autistic or ADHD without mentioning his alcoholism is ignoring a very relevant cause and effect. His health suffered immensely because of it, and like many people of that time, he died of pneumonia. He was 37.

Rube Waddell was inducted into the Hall of Fame via special committee in 1947. Rube played against and even rivaled the great Cy Young, but unlike him, would not be revered for his historical feats, due to, surprise surprise, alcoholism massively shortening his career and professional image. Rube was the first pitcher in history to have consecutive 300 strikeout seasons, which is a club now shared by only five other players. Rube led baseball in strikeouts six straight seasons, and earned a Triple Crown during this dominant stretch (led the league in Wins, ERA and Ks). He didn't play during the Athletics' world series run, and like many other great pitchers, never won it all.

[waywardtakami]

- don't leave me

✦pairing: hawks x gn!reader

✦c/w: language, slight mha manga spoilers, 16+ only , angst

✦a/n: hello!! I'm very excited about this fic, it's my first gn one! It's been sitting in my wips for so long and I'm finally happy with it. hopefully people will still read this without there being smut. thank you! <3

✦summary: hawks gets hurt during a mission...

✦w/c: 2k

Keigo had left you again to fight in another mission. He had only been gone for a few days, but you wished he was with you instead. You missed him so much. He hadn't been physically by your side in so long, causing your heart to ache again. Times like these were practically torture. Waking up without him by your side was agonizing, but you were used to it.

His job was all-consuming and you knew him being away for large amounts of time would affect you when you committed yourself to this relationship. There was a constant worry for his life and maybe a little for your own. 

You and Kei decided to keep your relationship as private as possible so no one would go after you. He didn't want anyone to kidnap or hurt you. 

Even though his musk scent was flooded throughout your shared home, you still tried distracting yourself the best you could.

After making your favorite food, you plopped onto the couch and turned on the TV to try and take your mind off him. 

As the TV flickered on, your boyfriend's face flashed across the screen. A gruff voice played over what was being shown. You assumed it was just something about his stats or a recent interview per usual. It didn't help the feeling in your heart subside by seeing him.

You changed the channel, again and again. But every channel had been taken over by the same broadcast. You eventually fixated and listened.

Your heart dropped.

Hawks had been accused of murder. 

"Murder...?" you mumbled to yourself. "No..he...what?" Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was about to thump out of your chest. You were stuck in a pool of emotions of confusion and immense shock, it was like your head was on fire. 

Dabi...one of the League of Villain members was behind this. All the information you received was from Keigo's colleagues and the media. 

Keigo had been hurt bad...real bad.

The fact that you couldn't do anything about it had you overwhelmed and panicked. When you finally found out which hospital he was brought to through FatGum, you drove yourself there.

Of course he was brought to one one of the furthest ones from where you guys lived. On top of that, traffic was horrendous. With everything that had gone down, the citizens of the city were frantic and trying to get home to their families.

Your hands and entire body practically trembled while driving. Your eyes pricked with tears at the thought of Keigo's wounded state. "He's fine he's fine he's FINE!" You kept telling yourself over and over. 

When you made it to the hospital, there was a large number of people in the waiting room. The sounds of people clamoring in and trying to get a room were deafening. You hurried over to the front desk. 

"Hello Ma'am I need to see Hawks, he should be here." She wouldn't let you in his room. You wanted to see him, no you needed to see him. You started crying, pleading, begging for her to let you go in his room. But the front desk lady apologized and insisted he needed to rest and isn't accepting visitors. 

You knew it was really because she probably thought you were just some fan of his. Or maybe even a reporter trying to sneak in photos. But no, you were his baby, his life, and they weren't going to let you in.

"I'M HIS DAMN PARTNER FOR GOD SAKES!" You yell while slamming your fist against the counter. You didn't realize how much impact you put into your fist until you felt pain in your hand. The waiting room goes almost quiet and heads turn to look at you. You glance back to see all the faces turned to you. 

Your voice softens from embarrassment. "Please...just let me see him." Your fist still against the counter looking at the nurse with tears streaming down your face. 

She stands up and moves closer, "I'm so sorry, I believe you…" She slides a clip board with a few papers attached. "...but we can't let you in just yet he's still recovering from his injuries, he needs to rest right now. Please fill these out while you wait." She looks back up with you with a faint smile. She really does believe you. She can see it in your eyes, the pain, she understood.

You release your hand, and pick up the clipboard. Looking at her on the other side of the counter you give her a face flustered nod and mouth a quick "thank you."

You go sit down comfortably in one of the empty chairs to wait for keigo to wake up...

The news of your wounded boyfriend was already half across Japan. After filling out the forms you scroll through your phone to calm yourself down. You kept seeing post after post about him. Almost all news headlines had his name. 

You think to yourself about how much of it is all bullshit and that he's fine. Deep down you weren't sure if the words your brain kept telling you were true. You click on one of the posts about him that reads: 

"THE NUMBER TWO PRO HERO DEAD" 

Your heart skips a beat, but quickly you realize it's just a fake. You scroll through, lightly skimming the bullcrap you were reading. You scroll and see a photo taken of him the night he was brought to the hospital. You wonder how the press even got a photo of him. You focus on the photo, he does look dead. It only showed his upper body, completely covered in burns. More tears forming at the corners of your eyes just seeing him in the photo. Oh and his wings, his big bright vermilion wings...gone.

You were a complete mess at this point but your sniffles and choked sobs were interrupted by the front desk lady waving to you. "He's awake." 

Quickly following her into the room you see him. As you stand in the doorway for a moment, your heart sinks. You hurry to him. He had bandages wrapped around his head. His hair was short and mostly singed off. And his wings...they really were gone. "I'll leave you two alone," the nurse walks out and closes the door behind her.

You turn back to him.

"Kei?" you whimpered out.

His half lidded eyes look at you. His formerly bright, charming and yellow pupils have become dark and filled with anguish. He was wearing a mask over his nose and mouth with two tubes coming from the sides of it. He couldn't speak or breath himself, due to his throat being burned. 

Of course he knew it was you. Tears welled up deep inside and coursed down his cheeks. Seeing him like this had your body nauseas. You move to cup your hand on his face, feeling the material of his mask rather than his soft subtle skin. You graze your thumb against his cheekbone to wipe away his tears.

You pick up one of his hands to hold it in yours. "Kei….I'm so glad you're okay." You were sniffling through each word. He slowly raises his arm to point to the phone sitting on the table near his hospital bed. Handing it to him, you watch as his calloused fingers type out what he wants to say. 

"Angel, I've missed you so much, please never leave my side." You faintly smile at him, wishing you could hear those words come from his mouth and not the AI voice. 

"I won't leave you Keigo, I'm here, I won't go anywhere."

He types again. "I'm pretty beat up, but I think I'll make it."

Your ears focus on "think" for a moment. "Yes Kei you'll be fine, everything's gonna be okay. You felt a bit better being in his presence but you still couldn't bear the sight of him. Your eyes began to prick with tears once again and this time Kei was the one who bought his hand up to brush your tears away just like you did moments ago. 

You try your best to wrap your arms around him without causing him anymore pain. You could feel him wince when you laid your head against his chest. "Sorry Kei I didn't mean to hur-" He waves his hand and shakes his head, signaling that it's okay.

Your body looked calm despite how tangled your mind was.There were many questions that flooded your mind. So many things you wanted to say. But you could worry about the details later. Right now you were finally with him again, there was no way you were letting him leave you ever again.

You were bent over, upper body on top of him at an awkward position. You didn't want to hurt him, so this had to work.

Despite the position, you took in the moment with your boyfriend. Feeling his chest slowly rise up and down. You close your eyes and imagine you were back home with him in bed. Just snuggling on a weekend afternoon, light shining in on him making his wings light up beautifully against the sun. His golden locks and glowing skin, his scent washing over your senses. Your warm bodies practically glued together. You wanted that again, you wanted everything back to normal.

He moved one of his scarred hands to your back, slowly rubbing up and down. He knew he wasn't going to make it. He was fighting so hard on the inside. So damn hard...for you. He didn't want to leave you, he couldn't. His mind wandered about the life he had planned to have with you.

He faintly smiled under the mask when he imagined you walking down the aisle...holding your first child...sitting in little rocking chairs growing old together. That's all he wanted.

Both of your tears never stopped. You were both silent. The only sounds to be heard were each other's quiet sniffles and the monitor Keigo was attached to, making a faint beep to his heart beat. Still laying on his chest, his breathing started to slow and so did the beeping, being lost in the moment you didn't notice really but he knew.

He waved his hand signaling for you to stand up and brought his hand to take off his mask. He couldn't hold on much longer. Every aching pain inside him felt like knives stabbing his insides and with each stab more time from his life was taken.

"Kei, you need to keep it on to breath, please." He shakes his head and takes it off anyways. The beeping still started to slow. The mask hung off the side of his face. His honeyed voice now husk from the burns. 

"Baby...I love you so...so.." He coughs making him hiss at the pain.

"No..fuck..Kei stop, you're going to be okay just put the damn mask on." 

"I'm too..far..gone, I have no more fight left." 

Holding his jaw in your hands,your face inches from him. "No you have to stay strong for me, please don't leave me again, I can't do this without you." 

"Kid...please...when I'm gone...find someone else and-

"NO- I ONLY WANT YOU!" You cry out, holding his head to your chest. Long-lasting sobs leaving your mouth.

"I love...you" His breathing is heavy from trying to speak. He needed to tell you this. He needed you to understand how much he loves you.

Moving his head from your chest. "I love you too...kiego." You manage to say through your choked sobs. 

You move to have your lips brush his, softly, delicately, like butterfly wings, just long enough that he could inhale your breath, feel the warmth of your skin. He closes his eyes and connects his lips to yours. It was deep and passionate, like you were kissing him for the first time. You held one side of his face with one hand, and held his hand with the other. 

But when you pull away, his eyes don't open. It's like that's all he wanted, no needed. One last kiss, one last touch. To feel you. 

His breathing completely slows, and you're left with the prolonged beep of the monitor. He was gone. The man who was always too fast for his own good, had left you and the world too fast.

✶tag list: @levithestripper @sleepysnk @conniesspringersgf @regretfulfairies @miyanom @sashatotie @romeoandjuliet96 @strawberry-pp @megvmi-s @cinnamonnn-roll @gooddayzarerare @kkodzvken

[ground-riot-jack]

Number 1 |k. bakugo| chapter 2

ok so chapter 2 is here!! Please enjoy and feel free to give feedback or just come say hi in my inbox!!

summary: you’re pro hero Angel, you work at an agency your boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugo, created. When you finally hit number one your world seems to crash around you.

"Angel? You have a case,"

You look up from your desk and see your secretary standing there with a case file pointed towards you. You stand from your reports and walk towards her.

"Give me the run down," You say opening the file and looking at it.

"The Hero Commission has been surveilling an underground group of villains, their mission is plain and simple destruction, to cause mass panic. The commission believes it's a much smaller and less organized branch of the league of villains since some members have been seen communicating." She begins as you walk to the conference room where the agency's team goes over cases.

"It says here their preferred method is mass shootings? Why hasn't the police already handled this?"

"Because the leaders' quirk is gunfire, hands made out of guns and as long as he can breathe he can make bullets" Kirishima interrupts, joining you in your walk to the conference room.

"So this is an open and shut case? Stop the bad guys before they get a chance to shoot and take them into a quirk-free facility?" Why do we need the whole team?" You question as you walk into the room.

"Because while the leader is the one doing all the shooting the rest of the group is inciting the panic, taking out police on the scene, killing victims who manage to survive, and making things a lot more complicated" Kiri sighs, taking his seat. You nod in understanding and take a seat beside him.

"Have you talked to him?" Kiri whispers as the rest of the agency's team begins filing in their seats.

"I'm not sure what to say Eji, if he wants to make things better he will apologize, until then, I don't know how we can go on." You sigh, you hadn't gone back home even though it's been 3 days, of course, you still go to work but today will be your first time seeing Bakugo since the fight. He hasn't reached out to you and you know it's because of his ego, but you weren't here to get into a pissing contest with your boyfriend.

"Y/n he is sorry, you know-"

"Alright, everyone here's what we know" Kirishima is interrupted by Bakugo's thundering voice entering the room. His eyes quickly scan and land on yours, but you look away.

While he goes over basic intel, you stare at the pictures of the group in your case file, trying to avoid his glare. You can feel it but trying to combat Katsuki head-on in a large setting like this will cause nothing but trouble.

"Angel, you, me, and red riot will be second. Once our target is in sight, we get him. I want that bastard in custody alive, can you handle that?" You pipe up at the mention of your hero name. You give a quick yes and shut off your feelings. You had a job to do, people to save, you can’t let your relationship drama jeopardize that.

"RED, He's heading towards you, me and ground zero will cut him off on the right!" You speak into your headset as you fly into action with Bakugo.

"Copy"

"I can get him, watch my back."

"Wait, I have a better vantage point, he won't see me coming."

"I said-"

"Now is not the time Katsuki, your explosions are too noisy, he’ll know who's coming and from where if you go.'

"Damn right, gives him time to be scared" He growls

"Just cover me and when I give you the signal, blast him. That's an order Ground Zero." You both hated when you ordered each other around, but you don't have time for Bakugo's pettiness when it's the middle of a battle.

"Whatever angel."

You fly up and head in the direction of the alley where Kiri is waiting, there one entry point but 2 exits so it's important you do this right. You watch as the leader of the group runs into the alleyway, you slip into the right exit and blast him with light. He fires his guns at you as you dodge them. Then he does something unexpected, he runs into a door in the alleyway.

"Ground Zero! He just entered a door that leads down somewhere, I'm going after him.

You hear Kiri say wait in your comms but focus on chasing the villain. You stop in an empty room, you can hear the rumbling of the battle going on above you on the street. You look around cautiously trying to find him.

"Oh angel, for a number one hero, you sure are naive." You hear a disembodied voice. You blast light from your hands like flashlights to look around

"Come out coward, we don't want you dead, but ill do it if I have to." You keep searching the room but can't find anything.

"Oh, feisty, that's not very holy of you angel." You spin around at the voice but find nothing. You hear an explosion back from where you came, you turn around to go find bakugo but as you're running you're snatched from the side.

You begin kicking and moving your wings as much as possible, causing the attacker to drop you. You spin around and find the Gunman with 2 other men, where had they come from. You decide to attack the gunman first and dive into a heavy fistfight. You’re flying around dodging not only his hands but the bullets that fly from them. You hear another explosion and the ceiling begins to crumble, you look for an exit but can't find one, where did you come in from anyway? You fly away from the men firing at you and try to exit from a rusted door but the stairs have been blocked by rubble. You try to radio someone, anyone but the lines have gone dead.

Another explosion goes off and the room begins collapsing, you look up and see light, an exit. You fly quickly but a large price of rubble falls and smashes your wing in between rocks. You pull and pull as the room continues to crumble finally ripping a large piece of your wing off. You scream in agonizing pain but try your best to fly towards the hole that’s getting smaller. As you approach it smaller rocks fly at you, hitting your face and body, some leaving scratches and others staying lodged in your skin.

You manage to exit and find yourself in another alley. Your legs hurt too much to stand so you try to crawl but your arms fail you. You lay on your back and let a tear fall, this isn’t how you end, is it? Bakugo would find you, he always does. Your vision blurs and your head is pounding, you let out a final deep breath before falling unconscious.

Muffled sounds stir you from your sleep. You open your eyes and sigh. Maybe someone’s come to help you, your heart begins to pick up at the prospect of being saved. You attempt to move but still seem to hurt to move more than your toes and fingers. Your tired eyes move back to where you heard the sounds but you can’t see anything other than the hidden alley you’re splayed out in.

“T-That’s her wing!” It’s Katsuki! You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Finally, your love has come for you, you’re already imagining the warm bath you’ll take when you get back to the comfort of your home. You begin to speak, but your voice won’t rise above a raspy whisper.

Then as if the nightmare wasn’t bad enough, another voice speaks.

“You’ve done the right thing Ground Zero, you belong in that number 1 spot, and to get there sometimes you have to do bad things for the sake of the greater good. Angel was a threat that needed to be eliminated, and the commission will not forget your assistance and continuous efforts. Congratulations” You hear the man pat Bakugo and walk away, before another set of footsteps, presumably Katsukis, follow after.

Tears fall from your eyes as you whisper scream in intense agony. It couldn’t be true, he would never do that, would he?

“It’s best you try to speak” A voice whispers beside you. You turn your head too fast and your vision blurs.

“W-who are you?” You whisper, gasping for air in between waves of pain.

“Don’t worry. Just rest, you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

[batboyimagines]

Cold-blooded part two [Damian Wayne x Male Reader]

You will want to read the first part of this! And another note, I feel it’s important to say I haven’t actually seen the movie this is loosely based off of? I only know it’s vague plot. So heads up, this will definitely be deviating from that plot!

“So first things first, I’m gonna need supplies for this.” Your dad says.

You, Dad, Robin, and the rest of the Teen Titans have regrouped in the living room. After much planning and replanning, there’s finally a plan.

“I’m going to have to swing by an old flame’s to get some extra muscle for this ritual we’re setting up. It’s not made for a single person to do.”

“My ma?” You ask. Dad makes a constipated look.

“No,” He says, “her name is Zatanna. She’s helped the Justice League before and I’m sure she’d be willing to help them now.”

“Oh, okay.” You say sinking back into the couch, arms crossed. Though you know they’re in danger, you still feel a bit weird about helping them out. It’s a bit ridiculous, only Wonder Woman and Aquaman really have ties to the gods. And Aquaman’s not in any danger, so you don’t have to worry about him.

But you know your Ma, and you know how bitter she is over what they did to her. Which is totally fair. It’s just that you’re not sure how she’d feel about you saving one of the god’s pet projects.

“... and that’s that. So, when do we need to leave?” Your dad finishes. Oh shoot, you spaced.

“It would be best if we went right now.” Nightwing replies. He pushes off the wall and his team follows suit, readying to depart. Your dad turns to you.

“Listen, bud, do you think you’ll be fine holding down the fort while I’m gone?” He asks. You hesitate.

“Uh, actually, I was wonder if... I dunno, I could come along?” Your dad reels a bit.

“Kiddo, this isn’t a safe ‘Bring your kid to work’ deal, this is dangerous. You could get hurt.”

“I know, but I feel weird hanging out here while you’re not around. And I’m a bit worried that some rando could come to the door and I won’t know what to do. Also I’m an all magic half snake being with unknown powers sooo.” 

Your dad thins his lips, looking thoughtful.

“Really, Dad, I’ll be fine. I’ll stick out of the action and whatnot and if I think I’m in any danger I’ll run as far as possible.” You plead. “I’ll have my phone with me? I know how to call now.”

“... alright. But you stay out of trouble.” He relents. You push to your feet with a grin and go to get your coat.

Under your breath, you hiss, “Hell yesss.”

The great thing about living with a magic user is that they have the best modes of transport. In your somewhat short life, you yourself haven’t traveled very much. When your mother is exiled and has no way of getting off her small prison of an island, you tend to not go anywhere. 

Being passed between your Ma and your Pa is a pretty recent development. This is the most traveling you’ve done in your entire life, and the option to go to different places is still a marvel to you. Really, the average person can just walk down a street, hop on a train, and go to an entirely new place, no fuss? What a concept.

An exciting, and sort of terrifying, concept.

“I’ve got a short cut to hers down in that alley,” Your father explains, leading you and the Titans through the empty streets, “though I try not to use it much.”

“Why not?” You ask from his side, shivering a little and shrinking into your coat. Though you’re thankful that early mornings mean that only the occasional jogger is awake, they are unfortunately very cold. And you are part snake. With cold blood.

“We didn’t exactly part on good terms.” 

“Are you sure she’ll help us?” Koriander asks.

“Oh she will, she’s not my biggest fan, but she wouldn’t leave you lot to the wolves just because she doesn’t like me.” He finally comes to a stop in front of the alley. You, more focused on not letting your teeth chatter, bump into his back. 

“This is it right?” You say, muffled into the collar of your coat. Man, you wish you brought a scarf. 

“Sure is.”

The alley is a dead end, entirely ordinary and bland. There’s not even a dumpster shoved against one of its grimy brick walls. 

But your father walks in, as if it leads somewhere, and you and the Titans follow. As you approach the bricked end, you expect your father to do, well, something to open the wall or whatever. But no, he just walks straight through the bricks.

You blink a bit. Since you’ve come to the modern world, you’ve been getting into video games. Shitty, old video games that your Pa bought from a thrift shop in panic before you had arrived for the first time. And your father walking through the bricks sort of reminds you of when you clip through walls.

Even so, you don’t want to be left behind. So even though that looked really weird, you walk through too.

The other side is much darker, and much, much grimier. And the air is stuffier. Your eyes water and you hack a bit.

“You alright there bud?” Your Pa asks in concern, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“The air here sucks!” You wheeze, blinking  tears from your sensitive eyes. 

“I agree.” Robin grumbles from your side. Looks like the Titans made it through fine as well. Your father raises an eyebrow.

“This is your city, isn’t it?” He asks. His city? 

“Just because I protect this wretched place, does not mean I enjoy breathing it’s polluted air.” Robin gripes. Nightwing makes an amused face at that. 

“Whatever,” Pa shrugs, “Zatanna’s down this way.”

Down that way, a quaint, hole in the wall magic shop glows. Back home with Ma, your light sources are either the sun, fire, or a magical doodad that somehow wound up in your possession. So no matter how many times you see light bulbs or neon lights, you don’t think the marvel will ever wear off.

The door rings a cheery jingle as your Pa pushes it open and you hit a wall of hot air when you enter. You revel in its heat. Living with cold blood is such a drag. Sometimes you miss the warm beaches of your mothers prison, though the nights leave warmth to be desired. 

After soaking in the warm air, you take a moment to survey the inside. It’s... a bit cluttered. And dusty. For some reason, magical items are always old and it seems like old things are always a little dirty. 

You brush a finger on one of the wooden tables displaying merchandise, yep, that’s some dusty stuff alright. You stick your tongue out. It smells dusty too. And like books and perfume. Flowery perfume. You hate flowery perfume. You tuck your tongue back in your mouth and grimace. 

It’s one of the worse human inventions. One time Dad came home from what you gathered was some sort of fling, stinking like someone’s nasty perfume. Though you sort of feel guilty for it now, you couldn’t stick around in his presence for more than two minutes. 

“Zatanna! You in?” Your father calls out into the maze of tall shelves. If you’re not imagining it, he’s making his voice just that bit more obnoxious. 

Robin looks at you and catches your eye. He makes a face at your father’s behavior that has you stifling a snort.

“Zataaaaannaaaaaaa, aaaare yoooou heeeeereeee?”

Wow, he’s laying the annoying on thick.

“Zataaaaaa-“

“Yes! Oh my god, I’m here!” A dark haired woman gripes as she appears through the shelves.

“Zatanna! My good friend,” your father grins, “how’ve you been?”

“Great, until you waltzed back into my life.” She says flatly.

“Good, good, anyways,” you zone out at your father says things. 

You’re distracted by the displays of magical items that you’re not totally sure are real. There’s not doubt in your mind that this Zatanna lady is a magic user, she totally is, but would she actually sell magic items? That stuff is no joke, your Ma’s told you plenty of horror stories about magic gone wrong. And you fell asleep in the middle of half of those!

“See something you like?” Oh shoot, she’s talking to you.

“Uhhh,” fuck, how do you respond? Well, there’s nothing catching your eye you guess, “uhm.. no?”

“It’s just that you seem so interested in the display,” she says amusedly gesturing towards the general space you just staring at.

“Well, I was just wondering if any of this stuff is real, cause, magic stuffs... dangerous usually.” 

“I have real items, but I keep those in the back. This stuff is for the common folk.” 

“Oh cool.”

“So,” Zatanna turns back to the others. You take that as a sign to go back to spacing out. 

Heaters are awesome. They’re the best invention of the modern world, in your humble opinion. All the hot air is coming from a vent in the wall next to you. You scooch in front of it. Hot airrr, hell yeahhh. This rocks. You could stand right here for hours.

“C’mon kiddo, we’re off.” 

GOD. DAMN IT.

Dejectedly, you trudge to the open door, where your Pa awaits. Ugh, that chilly breeze is not welcoming. 

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

Ok but like... In some weird alternate universe... Would Hero!Shiggy become childhood friends to enemies to friends to lovers with Villain!Dabi?

Absolutely yes because hero!Shiggy would never leave a friend behind, specially if that friends is suffering and needs someone by his side.

I can imagine it like this:

Dabi was a lonely kid, not because he didn't had friends, but because somehow he felt like he was not really seen. Like everyone saw what they wanted to see, but no one could break the walls he put there. He had a shitty childhood. He was pretending everything was fine all the time, but it was not. No one knew, no one saw.

And then Tomura found him.

Even when he was a weird kid with a dangerous quirk, it was impossible to ignore him. He was kind and stubborn, the only one who never backed away from an adventure or a dare. Dabi liked that. Eventually, he learned that Tomura has a shitty childhood just like him. Around that time they became a team. They'd run away from home some days, they'd train and study together, they'd talk about their plans and dreams. Dabi was not scared of Tomura, neither he was afraid of his hands. Tomura wanted to become a great pro-hero and Dabi wanted to beat the future pro-hero #1 in a fight.

But one day, Dabi died. At least that's what they told him when he asked. That's what he learn in school, that his friend had died and he hadn't been able to save him.

Tomura grew with that weight on his heart. His mindset changed after that. No, he didn't want to be a normal pro-hero. He wanted to be a rescue specialist, someone to save those who were low and hidden, who were lonely and left behind. Others could fight with villains, but him? He was there to save lives, not take them.

His years studying to be a hero were not exactly remarkable. Yes, he went at UA, but thanks to his nature he was always getting ignore. He was insanely smart and fast, had good strength and flexibility, but his quirk was, once more, too dangerous to be a hero quirk. He graduated the best he could and started working on tiny agencies, helping wherever he can. It was in his 19th birthday when he saw Dabi again.

The building Tomura was in was coming down.

Outside, heroes and villians were crashing against each other, like waves hitting the rocks of a beach. Tomura was running running running through the building, carefully decaying with his quirk a path for him to break through. Behind him, following close, at least three families cried out. He needed to take them to the ground before another big attack. There were kids with him. He couldn't fail them. He couldn't—

A blast occurred, followed by an object collided the side of the building and coming through right in from of them, hitting the wall hard.

Tomura waved the families to keep going. He swallowed. “Just one more floor, stay close to the walls. There's more heroes waiting for you, okay? Now go! ”

The person in front of him was a villain. He knew it in his heart, that's why he shielded the families with his body and pushed them to quickly pass by the body, straight to the next exit. The villain grunted, breathing heavily as he pushed himself up. Black ripped clothes, dirty dark hair, blue—

Blue eyes. The same blue eyes he had adored as a child. The same nose and bratty smile, the same spiky hair.

“ Dabi. ”

There was a moment between them, when none of them moved or blinked or breathed. They only started at their childhood friend.

And then Dabi attacked him with a blast of blue fire straight to his face.

All over Tomura, faked hands were grabbing his body. Their mechanisms were specially designed to give him the extra mobility he needed, with fine ropes inside them that he could shot and retract at will. Tomura dodge the attack, shooting one of those hand to Dabi's feet and tugging the rope, making the idiot fall to the ground.

The fight was short and fast. Dabi tried burning the rope of the hand, Tomura took the chance to run to the hole Dabi had left on the side of the building. The last thing Tomura saw before jumping, using a hand to slide him safely to the ground, was Dabi incredulous face as he watched him go.

From that point on, as a cruel joke, they kept finding each other in the oddest of situations.

Tomura was always submerging himself in big fights scenarios, because he was always risking his life to save others. Dabi, on the other hand, was always there to bring support to the villain side. So they kept clashing and interrupting the other.

And of course, arguing tension.

That was probably the most frustrating fact about it all. Every time, Tomura tried to make Dabi explain how he was alive, where had he been all those years, why he never went back to find him. Every time Dabi tried to make Tomura turned his back to the heroes.

“ Come with me. ”

They went back to their respective places alone, feeling defeated and tired.

But not always. Little by little, in between fights and attacks, they found themselves smiling again to each other. Well, yes, there was also a bit of sexual tension, mostly because Tomura needed to get close to Dabi in order to capture him, so sometimes Dabi would found himself pinned to the ground and other times Tomura would find himself trapped against Dabi's body and a wall. It made them dizzy, addicted even. The shot of adrenaline after learning there was a new mission, so they could see the other again. The feeling of the fight, of being totally immersed in another person's breathing, saying, moving. It was the heat and the danger, the familiarity, the joy of finding a friend and a rival, an enemie and a possible lover.

Little did the know that another twist was about to shake them to the core.

A year later, Tomura was kidnapped by a big bad man Dabi was working for. They called him AFO. Imagine Dabi surprise and concern when he found out that Tomura was on their base, alone with who was probably the worst person alive. Dabi was only a distraction, apparently. Something to drag Tomura closer and closer, enough to have him exactly where AFO wanted, like a moth in a spider web. He wanted to break Tomura, turn him against the heroes, against All Might.

Dabi saw him only once before making his decision. It was late, he sneaked pass the guards to the lab where Tomura was being kept. And what he saw, the way he saw the boy he had missed and loved and hated and longed for, floating in a giant capsule filled with water... He had heard the rumors about Tomura screaming his throat raw, the level of suffering he was putting up with.

For the first time in years now, Dabi felt the bitterness of his behavior climbing to his mouth. He had let that happened. Tomura let him scape again and again, he had covered him, lie for him, he was there because of him.

Dabi couldn't let him die for him too.

He smashed the glass. Tomura was heavier with muscle, he couldn't— he—

Just in time, he felt a friend of his lift Tomura up. Twice.

“ Is this the boy? ”

Dabi didn't reply, dead eyes sparkling among the darkness of the room. Behind him, Compress read his face and let out a tiny approval, telling the others to hurry up. They needed to get far really fast if they wanted to survive the night.

Tomura hadn't met them yet. The League of Villains. His somehow friends, even when he refused to called them that. Would he like them? As he ran, he came to think that yes, Tomura would probably adore them. It was impossible, but the League was fighting like Tomura was a part of them too, barely knowing the guy.

Everything was fine until Toga shouted at someone to make room for the boyfriends.

Oh, they were dead, they knew it. It was either the heroes or the villains, two sides where they didn't belong. So why? Why risking it all for a dude?

Maybe—, Dabi thought to himself as he watched Tomura wake up with rage as pure as his white hair on his eyes, a look he had never seen on him. Tomura only touched the ground and in seconds, a road of dust was opened to them. No more bodies or walls or trees, just a gray path with nothing in it.

In the distance, he heard someone calling out Tomura's name, a hero, a girl.

Spinner mumbled something and pointed at the rising sun. The rest started running towards the horizon. Dabi stayed back, holding Tomura up with an arm on his waist. The hero let his head rest on his shoulder and fell asleep again.

Maybe because he's our hero.

[yandere-daydreams]

since its may, you know what that means mermay, imagine being a fisher person that some how gain the attention of giant shark mermen, always following you no matter how far you go, just to get you're attention

I did make this a bit of a Pirate AU for My Hero Academia, if only because I can’t resist the temptation to shove Siren!Todoroki into every oneshot I can. Roll with it. The ends justify the means.

Title: Stranded.

TW: Implied Drowning, Blood, Physical Violence and Mentions of Canabilism. 

~

Loneliness could do strange things to a person.

A month ago, you wouldn’t have considered yourself much of a dreamer. You would’ve laughed off the idea of sea monsters and fairies and anything could only be verified by a handful of eye-witnesses. You weren’t the type to talk to the walls or gaze out into the sea with anything more than mild loathing, and yet, you’d only refused to acknowledge Shoto’s existence for a day or two, three at most. Maybe he was a figment of your imagination, maybe he wasn’t. At the moment, he was real to you, and that was all that mattered.

If he was a hallucination, he was a lovely one. In the dim light of dusk, rays of orange and pink spread across his scales, just beginning to glow in the soft darkness. He was a predator, judging from the fiery red dotting his otherwise stark-white form, and a rather efficient one at that, the sharpened teeth poking out from thin lips always varnished with the blood whatever he chose to bring you, that day. Mindlessly, you leaned over the side of your lifeboat, letting your fingers skin through the surface of the water, drawing Shoto’s attention. You watched as he began to circle the disruption, a strong tail propelling him ever-closer. He wouldn’t attack, you knew that, by now. You almost wished he would. An injury would be proof of his existence, even if it came in an unpleasant way.

Just as Shoto was about to break the surface, a voice drew you to the other side of the rig. “The minnow’s back, isn’t he?”

You frowned, slightly, scanning over Katsuki. He was leaning against the opposite side of the lifeboat, eyes shut and head tilted back, his white tunic unbuttoned to escape the heat. Back on Izuku’s ship, the two of you hadn’t been the best of friends, but relationships didn’t matter when you were fleeing a sinking haul, attempting to escape a water-logged grave by whatever means necessary. He wasn’t bad company, either, just… quiet. Skeptical. You couldn’t blame him, you were a stranger as much as he was. “You really shouldn’t call him that,” You mumbled, turning your attention back to the swirling colors. “He hunts for us. It’s the least we could do to be nice to him.”

That got you a glance from the corner of his eye, but you were preoccupied, by then. Shoto had gotten over his initial shyness, and after a thorough investigation of your raft, he was making himself comfortable in the palm of your hand, rubbing his cheek against your skin in a sloppy attempt to gather as much affection as he could. You guessed he had to be partially human, in that aspect, desperate for intimacy from any source that would be willing to give it up. You just smiled, petting through long, wet hair as Katsuki shifted behind you. “It’s an animal who found someone to scratch behind its ears. It probably thinks it can, like, lay its eggs in you or something.”

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes towards Shoto. He mimicked the gesture, poorly, and you ruffled his hair as a reward. “Do mermaids lay eggs?”

“Hell if I know,” He grunted, beginning to sit up. “And hopefully, we’ll be rescued before either of us have to find out. If the fucker’s even real.” The boat rocked as Katsuki stood, carefully making his way to your side. The lifeboat dipped, but the wind was dead and the waves were calm enough for him to lean over with you, watching as Shoto temporarily drew back, slitted eyes flickering momentarily towards your companion. The bioluminesce below his pale skin grew a little brighter, and clawed hands came up to take your wrist, clinging to you protectively. You laughed, and Katsuki bristled, as put off by this action as any other Shoto had taken. “Because we are going to be rescued, soon, and your little pet isn’t coming with us.”

You didn’t respond, not verbally, but he must’ve seen the concern that spread over your expression, the doubt. There was a sigh, exhausted and drained, but soon, Katsuki’s head was resting on your shoulder, a small, reassuring sign, one that went further than any words of affirmation he could summon ever could. “It’s going to happen,” He assured, that mocking drawl absent from his weighted tone. “I know this trade route like the back of my hand. Eventually, a merchant is going to pass by and we’ll be on-track for the nearest island. We can figure things out, from there.”

“That, or our supplies run out, and we have to draw straws to figure out which one of us gets eaten first,” You counter, only half-joking. “I’ll even give Shoto one of your kidneys.”

“Fuck off,” He spat, but he was grinning, an elbow soon jabbing at your ribs. “You’re eating the fish before you’re eating me.”

Something in Katsuki’s voice must’ve bothered Shoto, the creature’s tail beginning to move a little faster, churning the water around him. He let go of your arm, sinking just below the surface, but he didn’t move to swim away. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was pouting, getting ready to throw a fit like an unattended toddler. You nudged Katsuki’s side, nodding towards Shoto’s oncoming tantrum, hoping his goodwill would last. “You should try comforting him, this time. I think you two would get along, if you made an effort.”

He grunted, shooting you a glare, but with only the slightest bit of reluctance, he was rolling up his sleeves, mimicking the way you traced your fingertips over the surface, trying to lure Shoto upward. There was a moment of stillness, Shoto looking towards the display wearily, and you opened your mouth, prepared to tease Katsuki for the cold dismissal, only for your breath to hitch in your throat before the words could ever make it off your tongue. Without warning, Shoto lunged forward, his jaw closing around Katsuki’s wrist and jerking him over the lifeboat’s wall, or attempting to, at least, Katsuki barely catching himself. Reflexively, you scrambled backward, attempting to keep the raft balanced, but there was little you could do to help Katsuki as he grappled with the creature, cursing and clawing blindly, fighting, only inspiring Shoto to be more bold with his efforts. There was a hollow thud from the bottom of the boat, a final, wordless scream from Katsuki, and he was dragged into the sea, a cloud of something cloudy and dark following the pair as they spiraled downward.

You were too stunned to act, for a moment, but reality hit quickly and it hit hard, your heart racing as you frantically searched the water for a sign of either man. There was a faint light in the distance, but it was distorted, deep, already leagues away from the surface, and the only traces of Katsuki were scraps of clothing and strips of disembodied flesh, torn loose in the struggle. Time seemed to slow, your breathing labored, halting completely as Shoto rose back to the surface, alone.

Painfully, painfully alone.

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, but Shoto didn’t seem to care, staring up at you expectantly. If he could smile, he might’ve, but you couldn’t seem to focus on the thought.

Not when those jagged, awful teeth of his were coated in a fresh layer of red.