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hattedhedgehog · 16 days ago

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My (spoiler-free) thoughts on Dragon Age: The Veilguard

The review embargo has lifted and I can officially say that I've played through Dragon Age: The Veilguard early!

Here are my spoiler-free thoughts and personal opinions on the overall gameplay experience:

Narrative:

Rook's dialogue and decisions impact SO MUCH of the game, and come into play later on. From companions remembering your beverage preferences, to whether someone you spared shows up later to help or harm you, it feels like the game is paying attention and that you matter.

The stakes are unbelievably high. The Evanuris are utterly terrifying villains, in ways that Corypheus wasn’t. You really feel the magnitude of their power on a personal level as well as a worldwide level.

Whatever your thoughts on him, Solas is FUN as a character. He’s fun to talk to, fun to talk strategy with, fun to rile up and verbally spar with and fun to grudgingly ally with. Now that he can drop his former act and appear to you as the Dread Wolf, and you get to see his memories, you and he team get to decide how to utilise his knowledge and how far your trust extends.

The setup and payoff of the story beats are absolutely superb. The emotional turmoil as a player of being ensnared by things that was foreshadowed earlier in the game is utterly exquisite. Every thread of the larger tapestry has been woven with so much love by the writing team, and every character’s arc tie into the larger story in interesting ways.

The characters feel like they have full lives outside of the player character. You frequently go exploring their home turf and can meet their friends and family. They interact with each other on their own and move about the Lighthouse to spend time together, leave notes for each other, and talk about each other even when the other isn’t there. The team feels like they all really care about each other as well as you.

You can tell what your approval rating is with characters, but if you want to romance them you have to put some thought into it. Interactions and world events besides the heart on the dialogue wheel influence their attraction to you.

Gameplay:

The combat is very engaging, and I enjoyed how unique all the enemies were.

Abilities in the skill tree can be refunded so you can redirect to a different specialization, which is really handy if you’re indecisive and overwhelmed at first (like I get when choosing abilities). Most companions can get healing abilities no matter what class, so you don’t have to worry about balancing your rogues/mages/warriors (most of the time).

Climbing, balancing on ledges, using ziplines and sliding down slopes made environments feel more immersive. Additionally I like how each companion has unique abilities that let them interact with the world (fixing mechanisms, breathing fire, summoning bridges from the Fade, etc), and learning their abilities alongside them helps you grow closer.

The wayfinder light makes everything feel streamlined, so it's way harder to get lost while exploring an area. I hardly had to look at the mini map at all, and usually I’m glued to it! This meant I could actually look around at the beautiful environments and appreciate how lively they were, even without NPCs.

The upgrade system is far less overwhelming than in Inquisition; there are a finite amount of weapons/armour/accessories to be found, which are designed for each specific character like in DA:O and DA:2. There's also no longer crafting from scratch. If you loot an item you already have, it automatically upgrades the single item rather than giving you duplicates.

You know that frustration of coming across higher-level armour that just isn’t as flattering as your current one? Not to worry, you can collect “appearances” which you can toggle on as the visual for the armour while still retaining the benefits of the original.

I cannot stress enough how simple and easy to use the inventory is. It's heavenly.

Using the shops of specific cities increases your reputation within those cities, which is a good incentive to explore and use the shops. I usually hate in-world shopping but here it was simple, and thinking about it tactically worked pretty well.

Quests sometimes reach a point where you can't continue at your current place in the story, and must return to in later acts. When re-exploring familiar areas, everything feeling big enough to be fresh with each visit, and new loot and codex entires appear.

Edit: something I forgot to mention. In character creator, you get to make your Inquisitor after you make Rook. The build menus are all the same, so manage your energy accordingly for doing it all again immediately after for your Inky. I spent an hour and a half building my Rook and wanted to get right to playing, and had to re-wire my brain a bit to be patient and keep going with the CC. (Seeing my Inquisitor with new graphics was awesome though).

A couple little things I appreciated:

The control sounds are very pleasing. From the whoosh of opening the combat wheel to the clinking of upgrades to the subtle whir of holding the decision button, they're a nice touch.

If companions are interrupted in conversation by combat, they resume it afterwards with a "what were you saying before?".

Photo mode is so fun to play with, and you can adjust blur/brightness/lens/depth within the scene. You can also toggle on and off the visibility of your Rook, your party, NPCs and enemies!

Assan learns new interaction tricks at the Lighthouse as the game goes on.

Nitpicks:

Overall I had an incredibly positive experience. The gripes I had were tiny things like:

I genuinely like the new art style of the game as a whole. However, the blurriness of some of the features in contrast with some elements being very crisp was distracting.

When trying to sell valuables for faction points without using Sell All, it takes quite a long time to count up all the individual sales, and it isn't a live counter. So it's kind of annoying if you get +3 points for each item you sell, need 150 points to get the next tier of items, and over 10K worth of valuables that you want to sell to other factions.

If you do lots of quests without returning to the Lighthouse often, occasionally companions at the Lighthouse will have dialogue pertaining to the quests you've just finished as if you haven't done them.

You can pet the dogs and cats in the cities, but Rook turns their back to the camera to do it and it blocks most of the action unless you rotate quickly.

Gender stuff:

I was incredibly moved that not only can Rook be trans/nonbinary in the character creator if you so choose, but they get options to feel differently about their identity and journey, and it impacts their dialogue and how they relate to other characters! To access this make sure to interact with Varric's Mirror in your room in the Lighthouse. There are many conversation options throughout the game to discuss your identity with other characters, or relate your change of self to other situations. Crucially, it comes up when entering a romance and you have to communicate with your partner about it, which I never even THOUGHT of including in a game because it seemed impossible to even allow trans main characters to begin with.

There are also multiple trans and nonbinary characters throughout Thedas. What I found the most realistic was that just like in life, it is a consistent presence in any character's life, and comes up in conversation more than once. I have never seen a game this forthcoming and open about the topic of transitioning, and it was so validating.

Final thoughts:

I adore the other games in the franchise. Something about The Veilguard affected me in a way no other game has. I cried multiple times while playing this game, both from joy and sadness. What struck me most is that the people who worked on this game REALLY listened to feedback from previous games, and were very set on making a piece of art that meant something to people. Even during the last few years of me testing the game, things have been adjusted and changed in direct response to our reactions and suggestions. It's surreal and quite touching.

Mileage will vary, but my playthrough was 70 hours on very low difficulty and I haven't done every side quest yet. I could easily have spent more than 100 hours in the game if I wasn't pressed for time.

I hope you enjoy this game as much as I have. See you in Thedas.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age veilguard #harry plays the veilguard #I hope these are somewhat useful/interesting to people thinking about playing #I am so sorry if it shows up as a wall of text I don't know how to make the format more interesting

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askmrtorgue · 1 year ago

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HEY! YOU THERE! WANT TO PLAY A TABLETOP ADVENTURE WITH A PROFESSIONAL STORYTELLER?

I'M MISTER TORGUE, AND THE NERD WHO HELPS ME LOG INTO THIS ACCOUNT ASKED ME TO DO AN AD FOR HIS SERVICES. I TOLD HIM I WOULD, BUT ONLY IF I GOT TO WRITE IT MYSELF. SO STRAP IN, DUMPSUCKS. IT'S PRODUCT PLACEMENT TIME:

DO YOU WANT TO PLAY DUNGEONS & DRAGONS BUT YOU CAN'T FIND SOMEONE TO RUN YOUR GAMES?

ARE YOU FED UP WITH A GAME MASTER WHO WON'T LET YOU STRAIGHT-UP MAKE OUT WITH THE VILLAINS OF THEIR STORY?

DO YOU WANT WANT TO LEARN TABLETOP RPGS BUT EVERYONE WHO TRIES TO EXPLAIN IT USES THINGS LIKE MATH AND SPREADSHEETS AND YOU CAN'T STOP THEM BECAUSE FATAL SUPLEXES ARE ILLEGAL ON YOUR PLANET?

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NOT ONLY DOES BEN OWN A PAIR OF CAT-EAR HEADPHONES, HE EXCELS AT RIPPING YOUR HEART STRAIGHT OUT OF ITS RIBCAGE USING NOTHING BUT COMPELLING, ROMANCEABLE CHARACTERS AND BADASS EPIC ADVENTURES. IN FACT, EVEN HIS VILLAINS ARE SEXY AS F*CK. JUST CHECK OUT THIS VAMPIRE FROM ONE OF HIS CAMPAIGNS:

THIS DEATH DADDY IS ABSOLUTELY ABOUT TO KILL ME AND I DON'T GIVEN EVEN A SINGLE F*CK.

NOT YOUR STYLE? NO PROBLEM, PLAYER, HE ALSO OFFERS TERRIFYING MURDER MOMMIES!

THIS WOMAN COULD DRINK MY BLOOD AND I WOULD SAY "THANK YOU"

OR MAYBE IT'S TIME TO EMBRACE EVERYONE'S TRUE SECRET DESIRE:

BE A MAGICAL GIRL THAT'S BAD AT ROMANCE!!!

BENCOMPETENCE ALSO HAS THIRSTY SWORD LESBIANS, A GAME ABOUT BADASS SWORDFIGHTS AND WARFARE IN THE GREATEST BATTLEFIELD OF ALL: THE HEART

WHEN OH WHEN WILL THESE TWO INCREDIBLE WOMEN ADMIT THEIR FEELINGS FOR ONE ANOTHER!??!!?

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BENCOMPETENCE'S GAMES ARE INCLUSIVE AF AND BEGINNER-FRIENDLY, BECAUSE GATEKEEPING IS FOR SH*THEELS AND TRASHGUZZLERS. WHETHER YOU'RE BRAND NEW OR HAVE PLAYED A QUILLION SESSIONS, YOU WILL BE RIGHT AT HOME. ALL THAT MATTERS IS THAT YOU GET IN THERE AND KICK THE NARRATIVE'S ASS RIGHT IN ITS D*CK.

HE EVEN HOSTS SEMINARS THAT TEACH YOU TO BE A BETTER ROLEPLAYER OR GAME MASTER!!

HE ALSO ASKED ME TO TELL YOU THAT SESSION 0'S ARE FREE, AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT MEANS!

WANT TO JOIN A TABLE? THEN LISTEN UP, F*CKTRUCKS, BECAUSE IT'S LIST TIME:

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JUMP INTO THE BLUE BOX AND EXPLORE ALL OF TIME AND SPACE

SOMETHING ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO BE A BETTER ROLEPLAYER IN A PERSONALIZED LECTURE

THERE'S A LOT MORE TO SAY, BUT THE NERD WRITING THIS SCRIPT STARTED TALKING ABOUT CHARACTER SHEETS AND SOMETHING CALLED NARRATIVE AGENCY, SO I HAD TO BEAT HIM WITH A FOLDING CHAIR UNTIL HE STOPPED. YOU CAN HELP PAY FOR THE BODYCAST I PUT HIM IN BY SIGNING UP TODAY!

END OF ADVERTISEMENT.

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exhaslo · 11 months ago

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Corruption

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Warning: Minors DNI, smut, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship?

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Five months before D-Day

It was quiet. Something nearly unheard of in the city of Nueva York. Not even a whoosh of wind or a click of a heel could bring noise to this silent room. Especially not after the vulture of the lab had demanded everyone's silence.

You sat in the corner of the lab, quietly tapping against your tablet. You could not even hear another's breathing. That is how powerful the lead of this lab was when he demanded silence. That was how powerful-

"Miguel?" You whispered lowly.

Miguel O'Hara, otherwise known as Mike, due to his father's pestering nicknaming. Miguel O'Hara was the son of Alchemax's CEO, Tyler Stone, and the smartest scientist in the corporation. He was a man of power, and a man to be feared.

"This better be good, (Y/N)" He said with a hiss.

Oh, how you loved it when your name rolled off his tongue. If only he would have said it a little nicer. You raised your head from your tablet, looking ahead at the scene before you. A man, strapped onto a metal table with lights and strange liquid being entered into his blood. A twisted science experiment that never ended well.

Sometimes you questioned your job. You questioned how you found yourself seated as a secretary, recording each horrible experiment Miguel did. This was not for the faint of heart. You started working for Alchemax about two years ago thanks to a friend who helped you out of college.

You met Miguel a year ago, when you were assigned to be his personal assistant. Since, apparently, everyone else refused to take the job. Once you did your first report with him, you immediately found out why, but that wasn't going to stop you.

"According to my report, the subject purposely ate a peach before agreeing to this test." You explained.

"So?"

"So, the patient is allergic to peaches and is about to go into shock in a matter of minutes now." You huffed.

"Shouldn't affect the procedure."

Oh, how sometimes you wished you could enter Miguel's head and wonder what sick and twisted mind worked in there. Miguel was fascinated with genetic splicing. He always had a new test subject on his table once a week. He wanted to learn how to manipulate their DNA.

However, each experiment always ended in failure and death. The body count Miguel had was enough to lock him up a hundred times over. The man had not a single shred of humanity in him. It was always about the experiment.

"Begin,"

You rolled your eyes, wishing you could stop all of this. You had begged for a way to find the light in Miguel. How could someone so handsome be so evil? It almost made you sick the amount of times you had wet dreams about your monster of a boss.

"Another failure, sir. Perhaps we made a mistake-"

"I never make mistakes." Miguel hissed as he watched his now deformed monster patient lie dead on his table, "Get him out of my sight! Now!"

Right as you started to fill out your report, you noticed the patient's stomach start to inflate. You furrowed your brows before yelling out to everyone that the body was going to pop.

Your efforts were for not. Within the second, everyone in the room was covering in disgusting blood and body parts. You had wanted to throw up, but you did your best to hold it all in. Miguel was already throwing a fit about his lab being dirty, you didn't want to add to the mess.

----------

Once you were all cleaned, you made your way back to your office. You still had to finish your reports and send them over to Miguel for review. Miguel always demanded perfection. It was amazing how long you even lasted as his assistant. According to everyone, you were the more insane one.

"Oh, Miguel," You muttered, spotting the tall man in your office. Miguel lazily looked at you,

"Took you long enough," He spat. You placed your tablet down,

"Remember that time I told you that being a female requires more shower time?" You said with a smirk. Miguel scoffed as he placed himself onto your work couch, "Not even a smile," You huffed.

"Get working,"

"Yes, yes, oh chosen one." You teased once more.

The only thing that you could collectively agree on was that you were in love with the mad scientist. Giving Miguel a head massage, you stared down at his gorgeous face. You had been working with Miguel for a year. You knew what he liked, what he didn't like and how he worked.

It was safe to say that you were probably the only person in this whole building who understood Miguel. If only he wasn't evil. You would totally asked him out on a date long ago. Each passing day, you hoped that these feelings would go away.

"(Y/N), do my shoulders too," Miguel whispered in a low and sweet voice.

You folded far too easily. Doing what he asked, you knew that Miguel was using you. You had to be blind not to see that, but shit, you couldn't help it. That, and you physically could not quit your job. Both Miguel and his father made sure that no one would quit.

If you'd try, you'd be drugged.

Perhaps one day, you could bring this place to justice. You wanted Miguel to see the error of his ways. If there was any way to change Miguel to see the light, you would. Of course, taking Alchemax down was going to have to be the first step.

But, that was just a fleeting dream.

--------

Miguel inhaled deeply as you worked on his tense muscles. The only thoughts coursing through his mind were his experiments. How they could have been done differently. Perhaps he needed a different breed of test subjects.

"Let's resume our experiments with spiders," Miguel said with a low groan as you pinched just the right spot. He heard your small whine and scoffed, "We do this every other month."

"I know and you still torture me with it!" You cried softly, moving his to hair. Miguel closed his eyes, enjoying the massage,

"And as usual, I let you pick the next creature to study."

"A seahorse?"

Miguel resisted a chuckle since his first thought was getting males pregnant. How amusing that experiment would be, yet also horrifying. If he were to do that, then he would truly live up to his name as a mad scientist.

You had some dumb and ridiculous ideas. You weren't as smart as the rest of them and Miguel liked that. You were good for him to have around. Someone to remind him that there were those who were just dumb naturally. Of course, he could never say that to your face, or you would start crying.

"Like last time," He whispered ever so softly.

"Hm? Are you thinking rude things again?" You asked with a huff, gently pulling against his hair, "I can always stop this."

"But you won't." Miguel hummed and lazily opened his eyes, "Just be ready for tomorrow. I don't want another disappointment."

Getting himself ready to leave, Miguel fixed up his lab coat before giving you one last glance. He knew that you were attractive. Hell, he had to force his ignorant coworkers to get back to work since all they did was talk about wanting to date you.

Perhaps in another universe, where Miguel wasn't obsessed with his experiments, he would date you. Stepping out of your office, Miguel knew full well what he was doing. He got a rise knowing that he was keeping you all to himself.

Call it villainous, but Miguel enjoyed being selfish. That's how he always got what he wanted. Entering his private office, Miguel's eyes sparkled as he saw a case full of spiders.

"I'll make the perfect specimen, this I swear." He said with a wicked smirk.

----------

You squirmed in place, not ready to deal with today's experiment. You hated spiders. You wanted nothing to do with them, but Miguel loved them. He was so fascinated about the great hero age and about Spiderman.

Slowly making your way inside the lab, you gasped as scientists dashed past you. Everyone was running around in a panicked frenzy. Wondering what was happening, you gasped as you saw Miguel shaking with anger.

His spider enclosure was knocked over.

You wanted to jump and scream, but you knew that would only anger Miguel more. Hesitantly, you approached Miguel to try and distract him. As you did so, you felt something bite the back of your neck. You flinched and slapped your neck, praying that it was a mosquito.

You bit your lower lip, spotting a spider and nearly cried. Quickly shaking the foul creature away, you hurried to Miguel's side and gently tugged on his sleeve. Miguel hissed as he turned towards you violently,

"WHY AREN'T Y-Oh, (Y/N)," He growled. You were still biting your lower lip, glancing away from him,

"I know now isn't the best time, but why don't we-"

"Whatever it is, let's go while these fucking IDIOTS find my spiders," Miguel roared in anger.

You just nodded, leading Miguel out of the room as you quietly prayed for your fellow coworkers. Miguel was not going to let them rest until all of his spiders were found...including the one you just murdered.

"Why don't you tell me what you were going to work on while we go to lunch? I think a meal break would help," You suggested, tapping away on your tablet. Miguel stroked his hand through his hair, cussing lowly in Spanish,

"Sounds like a plan."

You smiled as you led Miguel to your lunch destination. You were proud to say that whenever Miguel was going to have a meltdown, you were able to calm him down someway or another. Call it talent, but you loved being reliable.

However, that talent seemed to be failing you now. You couldn't keep focus during lunch and Miguel seemed to be getting annoyed. You weren't sure what was happening to you, but your body felt like it was on fire. Could it have been from the spider bite?

"Sorry, Miguel...I just...need to..." You whispered before collapsing.

-----------

Miguel was growing irritated as he watched you waver in place. You were fine just a moment ago. If there was one thing Miguel hated, it was when someone lost interest in his conversation. This had never happened to you, so why now?

Right as you stood, you immediately came tumbling down. Like instinct, Miguel caught you and noticed that you had a fever. A small scoff escaped his lips as he carried you out of the restaurant and back into his company car.

"Take us to (Y/N)'s apartment. Fool got herself sick,"

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Next Chapter

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader

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thewertsearch · 4 months ago

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We should hurry this along. My visitor is beginning to set things on fire. […] TT: Who? Some guy. I was joking anyway. I am not in a hurry at all.

You said you should hurry, which is different from saying that you're in a hurry.

If the Alpha Timeline decrees that this conversation will be rushed, then it's still accurate to say it 'should' be hurried, even if Scratch isn't personally pushed for time.

TT: I thought you didn't lie. TT: Aren't jokes essentially humorous lies? Jokes are only temporary lies. If the falsehood is never exposed, there is no punchline. If the punchline is never delivered, the lie is sealed forever, regardless of initial humorous intent.

And this is just bullshit.

First of all, admitting that you lied doesn't retroactively negate the lie. That's not how any of this works. Scratch is just unilaterally deciding that falsehoods only 'count' when they're permanent, a rule he pulled completely out of his foamy ass.

Even if we accept his premise - which I don't - he could still wait arbitrarily long before revealing his falsehood, so that Rose doesn't realize she's been played until it's too late. This definition doesn't meaningfully restrict him from lying, and I think it's purely designed to confuse Rose.

[…] Lies are not funny. TT: I think if you're going to risk tarnishing your record of honesty, you should probably get better material. My joke was objectively funny. Who would know better than I?

And these? These are opinions, which don't have objective truth values. There are so many strings attached to Scratch’s ‘I don't lie’ shtick, I could knit him a better outfit.

Not that it matters, because Rose is in too deep. She's not going to back out now, no matter how suspicious this guy is.

TT: So you're saying an inaccurate statement doesn't count as a lie, as long as you say "just kidding" later? Basically. TT: What if it's much later? Is it still "just a joke?" No, that would be something closer to a prank.

I appreciate that Rose is trying, but her language is still too imprecise. Scratch is immortal, and it's impossible to know what ‘much later’ means to him. For god's sake, he's having this conversation in a single extended second! Give us some hard numbers, fucker!

TT: Are you allowed to lie about playing pranks? If I asked you if you were playing a prank on me, would you tell the truth? I am allowed to do whatever I want. I choose never to lie. I also choose to tell jokes now and then, and to play pranks quite sparingly.

See, the trap Rose is falling into is that she’s buying into the premise of the game. She's delving deep into the intricacies of Scratch's rules, and in the process, has completely forgotten to be skeptical of the guy who's explaining them.

Scratch tailors his manipulation style to whoever he's talking to - and if anyone's susceptible to a nerd-snipe, it's the Seer of Light.

But I can say that I have never played a prank on you, and no statement I have made to you thus far, or will make in this conversation, will contain any trace of falsehood for the sake of setting up a joke or a prank, with the exception of the joke I just made, and another one I will make very soon.

Like – let’s take this statement as an example. We could review the entire conversation with it in mind, and try to puzzle out where the setup for Scratch’s second ‘joke’ is, if it exists at all. Rose is probably doing exactly that – and in the process, has completely forgotten that he just said that he’s fully capable of lying.

He’s literally telling her to her face that he’s deceiving her, but she's too caught up in his games to pay attention. This is what it means to play with your cards face up, and it’s as impressive as it is terrifying.

TT: I'm starting to change my mind. Oh? TT: Yes. I think your joke was funny in retrospect. Actually, your whole shtick is pretty good. I'm warming up to it.

It’s great! He’s a good villain! He’s a puppet who’s got everyone else tied up in strings!

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3627 #s140

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thejoyofviolentmovement · 7 months ago

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New Audio: Kai Tak Teams up with There's Talk on Ethereal and Brooding "Flood The Harbour"

New Audio: Kai Tak Teams up with There's Talk on Ethereal and Brooding "Flood The Harbour" @kaitakmusic @ALaCarteRecords @clarioncallpr @imtherealcb @TheresTalk

Born in Hong Kong and adopted by American parents, who worked at a camp for Vietnamese refugees seeking opportunity in the city nicknamed the Pearl of the Orient, the Los Angeles-based multi-instrumentalist and producer Chris King may be best known for his work in Cold Showers and his production work for a list of artists that include Tamaryn, House of Harm and Fearing. Led by King, the Los…

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#á La Carte Records #Chris King #Cold Showers #electro pop #Hong Kong #indie electro pop #Kai Tak #Kai Tak Blush feat #Kai Tak Blush feat. Dol Ikara #Kai Tak Designed In Heaven Made In Hong Kong #Kai Tak Jalen Rose feat. Draag #Kai Tak Villains In My Mind feat. Foie Gras #Los Angeles CA #New Audio #New Single #Single Review #Single Review: Flood The Harbour feat. There&039;s Talk #Single Review: Kai Tak Flood The Harbour feat. There&039;s Talk #women who kick ass

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

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compos mentis 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: cut my life into pieces, this is my worst villain.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Andy shows you to the guest room. It’s big. Much bigger than your own.

Rather, yours is overcrowded with collectible figurines of women in big gowns and books about vintage fashion. When you were less exhausted, you would cut out the pictures and make collages. It’s been ages since you did anything more than lay around.

He leaves you to take it in. The bed frame is birch, the bedding all white, without a single wrinkle, the nightstands match the bed, and there’s a beige rug across the floor. There’s a book shelf against one wall, a window in the other, and an armchair in the corner. Simple but nice.

You roll your tank across the floor as you hear Andy coming up the stairs. He peeks in as you turn to see him carrying your mom. He nods as he passes by. A door opens further down the hall. You feel too unsettled to lay down even if you are tired.

He returns and peers around the door frame as he taps with his knuckles.

“Here, I just realised you don’t have any clothes here,” he holds a folded tee. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks,” you keep your tank on the hardwood as you cross to him. You take the shirt and clutch it under your arm.

“The bathroom’s right across the hall,” he points with his thumb over his shoulder. “Did you need some water or anything?”

You shake your head, “thank you. No, I’m alright. Just need to... rest.”

“Of course. Any extra blankets? The AC too much?” He asks.

You shrug, “I’m fine.”

He smiles softly, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be overbearing I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“That’s okay,” you assure him and back up. “Really, I can handle it.”

“Alright, but please don’t hesitate to ask for anything, alright, sweetheart?”

You turn and put the shirt on the bed, “okay. Thanks.”

He lingers in the door. He’s watching you. His gaze hangs over you like a shroud. Slowly, he reaches for the handle and shuts you in. At last, you can breathe. Well...

You slip the tube from around your nose as you change. You sit as you pull on the tee, keeping your flowery cotton briefs on. You loop the tube around your ears again and set it right. You feel woozy from the effort.

You turn off the light and shuffle cautiously through the dark. You put your tank to the side of the bed and stretch the tube. You lay down and let your eyes close. Your fatigue descends faster than you expect.

There’s some noise from outside your walls, but you don’t think much of it as you drift off. You wake up still on your back. You’ve trained yourself not to move much lest you get tangled up. All the water you had with dinner has you squirming.

You drag yourself up and fix your tube. You stub your toe on the take as you get out of bed and groggily stumble around. For a moment, you go into autopilot and collide with the end of the bed, thinking it to be much smaller. You’re not at home, you remind yourself.

You wheel the tank behind you and open the door. You cross the hall to the open bathroom and dip inside. You park the wheels under the tank and do what you need to, the seat cold, the tile even colder.

You wash your hands and look at yourself in the mirror. You don’t do that often. Under your nose is chafed, your lips are chapped, and your eyes are sunken. You’ve never been pretty, just sick. You always wanted to be beautiful like the glass women you kept in your room. You don’t know why you’re thinking of that now.

You shut off the light before you open the door and step out into the darkness. You don’t get far as you hear a grunt and your tank lurches over a bump. You stop and squeak as the shadow backs up and grumbles. A switch flicks and the overhead light glows.

You face Andy in surprise, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise--”

“No, no,” he grimaces and wiggles his foot. “I shouldn’t be creeping around in the dark.”

He chuckles and pushes back his hair, it’s tussled, and his beard has uneven lines in it. More concerningly, he’s almost naked. He only wears a pair of grey boxers. His chest is thick with hair that trails down his stomach, and his shoulders are rounded with muscles. He somehow seems even bigger in that moment.

You lean back, about to tip. You’ve never seen a man like that in the flesh. You’ve never been that close to such a bare man. Even when you see it on screen, it makes you squirm and heat up.

“It’s... It’s... I’m sorry.”

You turn and hit your tank with your leg. It slips and wobbles before it clunks over. You trip over the wheels and tumble forward. You squeak as a tight vice closes around your arm and keeps you from hitting the floor.

Andy pulls you steady to your feet and you turn to stare at his hand. He’s touching you. No one touches you. Only your mom and she only does that when she wants to make a show. You stare at his knuckles and he slowly lets go.

You stand frozen. He bends down to lift the tank back to its wheels and he looks it over. He turns his ear towards it.

“I don’t hear a leak.” He says.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you insist and grab the handle. “Thanks.”

“Hey, but what about you, honey? You okay?”

“Yep,” you cough and veer the tank across the hall with you.

You don’t look back. You're embarrassed. Especially as you shut the door and realise you’re in little better state than him. You have the tee shirt and your frumpy underwear on. Oh gosh, that’s horrible. He saw you like that.

💚

You wake up and get dressed in the same clothes you wore the night before. All in all, you’ve been awake for most of the time there. Strange places make you wary. Even hospitals, as often as you’ve been there, keep you on edge.

After you get your meds from your belt bag, you sit on the bed and stare at the window. Your mom will be up eventually and you’re sure she won’t want to hang around unless Andy is there. He must have work, right?

You hear movement in the hallway. It could be her. You hope it is. You listen to the footsteps descend the stairs and minutes later return. There’s a back and forth in the hall and through the house once more. Yet you don’t hear voices.

A knock comes at the door and you make your way over. You’re not surprised to find Andy on the other side, only disappointed. He’s in a pair of slacks and a button-up. He must be near ready to go.

“Hey, checking on you,” he puts his hand on the door frame. You glance at it. You won’t be able to close it. “Everything okay? I put coffee on.”

You nod, “okay. I don’t drink coffee. Thanks. Too much caffeine.”

“Oh, I should’ve remembered that,” he puts his other hand on his hip. “Well, your mom isn’t doing too well. She’s hungover. I did mention about the wine.”

“Uh, I... I’m sorry,” you frown.

“Sorry? Why?” He tilts his head, “you don’t have to apologise for her. It’s the consequences of her own behaviour.”

You shrug. You guess it’s a habit. You’re always the one apologising to the nurses or the service workers or just the last person she decided to argue with.

“Yeah...” you murmur.

“Well, I can make you some breakfast? I have some muffins. You like blueberry?”

“It’s okay. I’ll just wait for mom,” you pick at the hem of your shirt.

“Alright, but I think she might not be up for a while. Even then, I don’t know if she’s going anywhere.” He glances over his shoulder. “How about, I’ll leave a muffin out for ya and you can have it if you get hungry? I got a short day, I won’t be gone very long but you get full rein of the house when I’m out. Keep your mom safe, huh?”

You blink at him. You can’t quite process what he’s saying. More his tone than his words. He’s talking to you in this sickly sweet voice. Is he trying to be fatherly? You don’t need a dad and he didn’t need you either.

“Right, I...” you shift on your feet. “I’ll just lay back down. My head hurts.”

“You sure you’re not hungry? I can get you some coffee before I go?” He offers.

You shake your head, “no thanks, “ you wisp out, “er, have a good day, Andy.”

“I’ll try, sweetie,” he surprises you as he moves his hand from the door frame swiftly. You can’t react as he reaches for you. He cradles around the back of your head and leans in to kiss your forehead. “You too.”

He pets your head before he pulls away. You’re too stunned to speak or move. You squeeze the handle on your tank and your chest starts to split. You have to breathe!

He steps back with a grin and turns to strut away. You watch after him. Was that... well, no, it’s... it can’t be anything. He’s just being him? He’s with your mom now so technically when they marry... that’s it.

You just don’t know any better. You’re stupid. You’ve never even dreamed of having a man interested in you that you confuse the most innocent things for more. It’s not that. He’s being nice. If anything, he just feels sorry for you like everyone else.

When he disappears down the stairs, you finally get some sense back. You shut the door and go back to the bed. You’re dizzy and a bit queasy. You lay down and watch the ceiling. If your mom isn’t up in an hour, you’ll have to go find her.

You can’t stay like that. Despite the shadow of exhaustion that always follows you, you’re restless. You get up and make sure the bed is tidy. You fold the used tee shirt and check to make sure you tank hasn’t left any marks on the floor or carpet.

Alright then, that’s enough waiting. You peek into the hallway before you emerge. You go down to the door where you think she is. You can’t remember which one now. You knock and wait. She doesn’t answer so you hit the door harder, making yourself flinch.

You hear a grumble. You stand in indecision. Should you just let her be? Well, you don’t want to be here all day. You rub your forehead then rip your hand away. Right there, where he kissed you...

You drop your hand to the door handle and push inward. Your mother is shrouded in darkness, the curtains are drawn, and she groans. You sniff and stay close to the threshold.

“Mom, are you okay? It’s almost nine--”

“Go away,” she gurgles.

“Mom, we have to go home.”

“Oh, shut up. Go. Fuck, my head is pounding,” she rubs her head and writhes.

“Mom?” You squeak. She can be harsh but she doesn’t swear at you like that. “Can I help--”

“Leave me alone,” she rolls her back to you, “you’re making it worse.”

You frown and look at her. You were just trying to help her. You know you’re useless but you don’t mean to be. You back out and roll the tank with you. When you close the door, you jump at the figure along the edge of your sight. You turn to Andy as he stands just down the hall.

How long has he been there?

“Told you, she’s in rough shape,” he says. “Well, good and bad news. My case for this morning got pushed. Lawyers put in a request so I’m gonna work from home so if you need anything, I’ll be around.”

“Oh, uh, right,” you hunch and shrink toward the wall.

He nods and smiles softly. You’re both silent, stuck in a strange valley of uncertainty. He clears his throat.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that, you know? I’ll... I’ll tell her that.” He says.

You shake your head frantically, “no, don’t do that.”

“But she shouldn’t--”

“Please. She’s just not feeling good,” you insist and roll toward him. “It’s fine. Just... I need to sit down.”

He lets you pass and you dip back into the guestroom. You click the door shut and heave out a long breath. You just want to be at home. Everything here feels so weird.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #compos mentis #defending jacob

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kkanabel · 2 months ago

Text

façade ❃ twoshot ❃ chapter one

prohero! bakugou x prohero! reader

you and bakugou have been broken up after he "cheated" on you with a coworker at Endeavor’s Agency in your third year. seven years later, you both have to go under disguise as a newlywed couple to gather intel against a crime syndicate in a small town.

directory/m.list

next chapter ⇨

Words: ~5.8k

t/w: cheating (but it was a misunderstanding), angst with a happy ending, alcohol use, cursing, fluff

Your steak was partially-eaten at the restaurant next to the hardly touched side dishes. Across from you was a person who was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Watching him was like listening to a once-favorite song you no longer enjoyed. The words that came out of your mouth were sugared.

“Love, your food is getting on your face!” You giggled, light and sweet, a performance for everybody else in the room, but your appetite shriveled. Just looking at him was enough to ruin it.

His black hair might’ve been part of the disguise, but it was his eyes that truly twisted your stomach. That fiery intensity in his look hadn’t dimmed, no matter how much he tried to blend in. His physique was no different. Broad shoulders and strong arms were all wrapped up in a get-up that he’d usually never wear— polos and khakis hardly fit his personality, but they fit his arms and shoulders damn well.

Though you’d never admit it.

You were hungry earlier, truly. After an entire day of scouting the town with Bakugou, both of you memorizing the layout and studying the locals, you were ready to devour anything. But you’d forgotten one critical detail—you’d have to share a meal with him. Now, Bakugou sat directly across from you, his damn eyes watching you, piercing through your every thought with a single glance.

You were so hungry earlier, too. After an entire day of scouting the town with him to discreetly memorize and study the surroundings and the locals, you were ready to eat anything and everything. But you’d forgotten one critical detail—you’d have to share a meal with him. Now, Bakugou sat directly across from you, with those damn eyes piercing through and analyzing your every thought with a single glance.

It made you sick. These eyes were the eyes that ruined you when you were younger. More stupid, more naïve.

Bakugou—disguised under a different name—grinned in a way that was so unlike him it almost made you laugh. Almost. “Thanks, honey. What would I do without you?”

The sound of his voice, those saccharine words, made your skin crawl. He was acting, just like you. But knowing he didn’t mean it—knowing he never would—made it worse. It twisted the poisoned knife he’d left in your heart all those years ago.

Your target was at another piece of steak, sawing at it until the knife clattered against the plate. The small bite tasted like cardboard in your mouth. It wasn’t the restaurant’s fault—you were just in bad company. The restaurant reviews were beaming even though the only reason you came here was to memorize the faces of the workers, who were all suspected to be working with the villain organization you were targeting.

“Pfft, I know. Just like when I fixed that old shirt of yours the other day. You’re welcome, by the way,” you replied, snark dripping from every word, as if you really had been together for years.

He paused mid-chew, his jaw tightening for just a moment before he forced another smile. This one was all teeth. “I’m lucky to have such a talented wife.”

It sounded wrong coming from him, hollow. He never said things like that, not genuinely. You forced your lips into a lovesick smile, but it was hard to keep the bitterness from bubbling to the surface.

If you had your way, you would’ve never spoken to him again. But fate, cruel as ever, had other plans. A mission had dragged you back into his orbit, this time forcing you into the role of his newlywed wife of all things. Your agencies had decided you two were the best fit for the job in this small town by the edge of the mountains—because apparently, everyone else was too busy.

However, the reason why you decided this wasn’t exactly for the “better of the world” or for some selfless bullshit reason. It was him. It was all Bakugou. He was the reason why you used work as an excuse to run away from life in the beginning.

You both work in the same field in neighboring towns. How did you not expect to have to work with him in close quarters again? You had to do it a couple times in the past, of course. But in those cases, you never had to utter more than a polite greeting or a quick debriefing to him.

But heroes don’t disobey orders. You couldn’t choose anything else. This was a month-long mission, so you’d both have to concentrate and act like the world’s best couple while you two secretly worked and played right next to the villains.

After almost a decade of working in the pro hero field, you were able to eat your restaurant food while listening in to conversations between the world’s most disgusting people. It never got rid of your appetite. But sitting here with a simple coworker was like torture.

Even after seven years, he wreaked havoc on your emotional state. Sure, his existence was like listening to an old favorite song. But that song that you once enjoyed became corrupted with bad memories—memories of him kissing a coworker that he told you “not to worry” about while drinking.

Bakugou looked at you, his fiery gaze softening for a moment, like he could sense the storm raging inside you. But he said nothing, just smiled that infuriating, fake smile.

You pushed your plate aside, hunger long forgotten. Even after all this time, he still had the power to wreak havoc on you. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to move on, how much you tried to bury the memories. The song you once loved had been tainted—ruined beyond repair. And now you were trapped in this duet, pretending for the sake of the mission, pretending for the sake of the people living in this town. But no matter how well you acted, every glance from him chipped away at the facade, like a scab being picked off a wound that refused to heal.

The restaurant's warm lighting reflected off the metal utensils on the table, your plate of half-eaten steak a reminder that some things, no matter how familiar, could never taste the same again. His voice, a mockery of normalcy, grated on your ears, each affectionate word laced with a layer of tension you couldn’t ignore.

As Bakugou stood, you noticed he was two paces ahead of you by the door. He turned slightly, waiting, and extended his hand as any good husband would. You hesitated for a fraction of a second before slipping your fingers into his. The warmth of his hand, once comforting, now felt suffocating.

"You okay, honey?" he asked in that low voice reserved for public ears, his eyes softening just enough to sell the act. But then his tone dropped further, meant only for you. "I know you hate me, but you need to commit."

The subtle squeeze of his hand sent a warning up your spine, anger sparking in response. You glanced away, biting back the retort that hovered on the tip of your tongue. He was right, and that made it sting more. When you looked back at him, his expression had morphed into something bright, affectionate. Disgustingly fake.

With a soft, practiced smile, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple, your lips lingering just long enough to sell the charade. "Sorry," you murmured sweetly, "I'm just exhausted from today."

The two of you walked out of the restaurant hand-in-hand, each step weighed down by the tension between you. Onlookers would see a couple perfectly in sync, fingers intertwined like a newlywed pair lost in their own world. Only you knew the truth—the burning desire to be anywhere but here, holding the hand of the man who shattered your trust years ago.

You heard whispers about him from time to time—rumors swirling like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind. Bakugou was popular among the female heroes, and his name was often accompanied by a chorus of giggles and teasing remarks. “Dynamight totally hooked up with so-and-so last night!” they'd say, exchanging knowing glances and coy smiles.

You knew. You were at the same party that he was at, and you saw him with a random woman seated on his lap, all proud that she was there. The way he looked at her sent disgust through your stomach.

You didn’t know that his eyes darted to you as soon as you sent your attention back to your partner.

Your coworkers would drench the office in gossip, speculating about his encounters, claiming he still refused to settle down with anyone, despite his countless admirers. At the moment, you brushed it off, telling yourself it was just idle chatter—nothing more than the usual buzz of workplace gossip. After all, you were in a relationship, and Bakugou was just an ex, a chapter of your life you thought you had closed for good.

But beneath that confident facade, a knot tightened in your stomach each time you heard his name mentioned. You tried to shake it off, burying your feelings under layers of indifference. Yet, deep down, the echoes of those conversations stirred up memories you thought you had forgotten, rekindling the doubts and insecurities that haunted you.

Nobody at this office knew that you and him used to date in your UA days. Even within your class, only a handful of people knew about it out of fear that villains would try and use you against each other.

Even as you forced a smile and participated in the banter, a part of you was always wondering: Did he really move on, or was he just pretending?

And now, with every step you took together, the countdown to your next "date night" loomed, an event you dreaded more than the mission itself.

Walking hand-in-hand, you left the restaurant together, keeping up the facade. Every step felt like it dragged you deeper into the pit you thought you had clawed your way out of. The town’s dim-lit streets were quiet, a peaceful contrast to the storm inside you.

As you approached the small cottage the mission had forced you to share, you tugged your hand away from his. The weight of his touch lingered, a reminder of how easily he could still reach you, even if you despised it.

The two of you had been sleeping in the same bed, despite how much you hated it. The first night you arrived at the cottage, you’d tried to sleep on the couch—anything to avoid the shared space that felt far too intimate for what you were capable of handling. You thought you’d been quiet, moving around pillows and blankets in the dim light of the living room. But of course, Bakugou had noticed.

“We’re married,” he said, the words like a shot to the chest, each one punctuated with a venomous reminder of the act you both had to maintain. He stood at the doorway, arms crossed, his silhouette barely visible in the shadowed room. “Come to bed.”

It wasn’t a request. His voice was low and laced with a touch of irritation. You knew why. There could be eyes on you, even now. Someone could be watching from the shadows, waiting for a crack in your performance—waiting to tear down everything you were working to accomplish. The mission was clear: gather intel, take down the villains, and do it without drawing suspicion. And part of that required playing your part as the loving, newlywed couple.

The perfect, unblemished duo that could never be doubted.

You stood there, clutching the blanket in your hands, torn between what you wanted and what you had to do. It felt like a cruel joke. You and Bakugou, sharing a bed, pretending like the past years hadn’t carved a canyon between you. But you knew he was right. He was always right. No matter how much it stung to admit, he now had a way of pushing aside personal feelings, of locking away anything that might distract him from the mission.

You, on the other hand, weren’t that strong.

The memory of his voice—so sharp and cold—lingered as you made your way back to the bedroom that night. It was a silent truce, but you hated the way it felt. Like you were once again trapped in his orbit, dragged back into the center of something you thought you had escaped. You slid under the covers beside him, the bed too small for the space that stretched between your bodies. You could feel the heat of him, so close, and yet miles away. It was suffocating.

It didn’t help that Bakugou played his part so perfectly. He’d initiate the small touches, the easy smiles and kisses in public, all with that infuriating ease of his. It was like he had no problem pretending you were still the couple you once were. As if the memories didn’t hang over him the way they hung over you. Every kiss in public, every affectionate gesture was a jab, a reminder of how effortlessly he could turn his emotions off. He was so damn good at his job, not letting anything—especially not the past—interfere with his focus.

But for you, it was different. Every time he reached for your hand or pressed his lips to your temple, it cracked something inside you. He wasn’t kissing you—he was kissing the role. You knew that. He was just following orders. And yet, there was something about the way he could act like nothing had changed that left a pit in your stomach.

Did he still care? Or had he buried the past so deep that it was nothing more than another file in his mind like you thought you did?

Even after dating multiple other people, you thought you were fully over him, but this mission just opened up this rusty can of worms.

The thought kept you up more nights than you’d admit. You stared at the ceiling, the weight of it pressing down as you listened to his steady breathing beside you.

How could he pretend so well when you were struggling just to breathe in the same room?

You hated that he could compartmentalize everything, lock it all away as though nothing between you mattered. It felt like you were the only one still caught in the wreckage of what you once were—while he had moved on so easily. There were times, especially in the quiet, that you almost wanted to confront him. To throw it all out there, demand answers, demand something. But the mission hung over you both like a guillotine, ready to drop the second one of you messed up.

It was worse at night. The bed felt impossibly small, the silence thick between you. Your shoulders would brush sometimes, and every accidental touch sent a jolt through your body that you hated yourself for. The memories of the past—the good ones, before everything fell apart—would trickle in when you were lying next to him, and it was impossible to shut them out.

You’d catch yourself remembering what it felt like to sleep beside him back then. The warmth of his body against yours, the way his arm would drape over your waist in a protective, possessive way. Those nights, you’d feel safe, wanted.

Now, lying beside him in silence, you felt the exact opposite.

The worst part was knowing that you truly still weren’t over it. Over him. Even after all the hurt, all the unresolved anger, he still had that power over you, and you hated him for it. And maybe, somewhere deep down, you hated yourself more for still caring.

It was a cruel twist of fate that had thrown you into this mission together. Forced to act like you were happy, like you were still in love. Because, no matter how much you resented him, there was a quiet, bitter truth that gnawed at you—a truth you didn’t want to face. Some small part of you still was.

The people you dated after him? They were nothing more than distractions. Fleeting attempts to erase the mark he’d left on you. But nothing could ever compare to the way he made you feel during those two brief years at UA. When you were together, he made you feel like you could conquer anything. He brought out a side of you—someone confident, strong, capable. You’d grown, both as a person and a hero, because of him.

And then he destroyed it all.

What happened at the end of your relationship had shattered you. His betrayal had torn through everything you thought was real. He ruined your trust, your sense of self-worth, everything you’d built with him. In one moment, all of your confidence—your certainty in yourself and your place in the world—was obliterated.

You still remembered how it felt, that crushing weight in your chest when you saw him with her. The girl he told you not to worry about, the one who was nothing but a friend, according to him. The image was burned into your memory, an ugly scar that you couldn’t heal. How could you ever trust anyone again after that? How could you believe that you were enough when the one person who made you feel like everything had turned around and made you feel like nothing?

You spent years trying to rebuild yourself, but the cracks remained. No matter how far you’d come in your career, no matter how many missions you succeeded in, there was always a small, insidious voice in the back of your mind that whispered doubts. The kind of doubts that made you question whether anyone would ever see you as more than just a temporary convenience.

Listening to the steady rhythm of his breath while he slept beside you each night made your stomach twist. The peace he found in sleep was maddening, as if he could slip into unconsciousness so easily while you lay there, trapped in the turmoil of your own thoughts. It was cruel, really, how he could do this so effortlessly.

The next morning blurred into a haze. Sleep had eluded you, leaving your body heavy with exhaustion and your mind thick with unrest. You and Bakugou went through the motions, keeping up appearances, going to your fake jobs—tasks that were merely covers for gathering intel on your target. But the mission wasn’t the only thing that weighed on you.

It was the end of the week. The day you had been dreading.

Date night.

The two of you walked through the park, just like a real couple. His hand fit securely in yours, his grip firm but relaxed. It was all for show, you reminded yourself. This was just a role he was playing, nothing more.

The air was damp and cool, the scent of rain still lingering from yesterday’s showers. Autumn was settling in—the breeze carried whispers of the coming cold as orange and red leaves fluttered through the air. You watched as they drifted down, spiraling slowly before landing at your feet.

You stole a glance at him, studying his sharp profile as he stared straight ahead, expression unreadable. His jaw was tight, betraying nothing, but you knew Bakugou better than anyone. He was never oblivious. He simply chose not to show it.

"I overheard this couple the other day," he said suddenly, his voice light, laced with an artificial sweetness. It was code, meant to sound innocent to any passerby. "They were planning a trip to Kyoto. Like our honeymoon."

It was a message. A meeting would take place 14 kilometers away, in a forest. His words, however, stung for different reasons. The mention of Kyoto dredged up memories you had tried to bury. Of stolen moments, of the days when you believed him. When his words weren’t tainted by lies.

Your gaze lingered on his lips—lips that had once promised forever, now nothing more than a vessel for deceit. "Sounds nice," you said, keeping your tone light. "I miss it already. Maybe we should go back sometime." Your answer was clear—affirmative. You would assist him.

His eyes widened, just for a moment, caught off guard by the weight in your voice and the look in your eyes. Then, he stopped in his tracks, pulling you into his arms as if this were just another romantic stroll in the park. He kissed you, soft and slow, his lips sending a confusing warmth through your veins.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice gravelly, low enough for only you to hear. It was too rough, too raw—too close to something real. And for just a second, you questioned whether this was still part of the act.

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. When you finally forced them out, they sounded hollow. “I love you, too.”

He stiffened ever so slightly, his expression shifting into something hard that was more like him, before his face softened into that easy, charming smile he wore so well. A passerby would have seen a happy couple, sharing a sweet moment in the park. But you weren’t a random passerby. You knew him.

You hated it—the way his touch still sent heat curling through your chest, the way your heart betrayed you every time he got too close. You couldn’t stop the growing blur between the facade and the truth, and that terrified you.

As you strolled through the park, the memories of your time at UA flooded back, weaving through your thoughts like the golden leaves swirling around you. You could still remember those late-night study sessions, the way he would pull you close while you both tried to catch some sleep in your dorm after a long day of training. Bakugou was always warm, a solid presence that made you feel safe, even when the world outside was chaotic.

But there were moments that cut through that warmth like a winter chill. You recalled the time during your third year when everything had gone wrong. The mission had turned sour—dangerous and overwhelming. You had been curled up against him, your head resting against his shoulder, the two of you trying to find solace in each other. His warmth wrapped around you like a blanket, a comfort that made you forget the world for just a moment.

Then the call came. His phone rang, breaking the fragile peace. It was a female coworker of his, voice laced with panic, relaying urgent news about the mission. Without a second thought, he’d shot up, leaving you behind with a “Babe, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. It’s the agency.”

The way he’d jumped into action had shaken you, the sudden absence of his warmth leaving a hollow ache in your chest. In that moment, you had brushed it off, convincing yourself he was simply doing his job. You understood, or at least you wanted to believe that you did.

But now, as you walked hand in hand with him, that memory gnawed at you. You felt a pang of regret for not stopping him, for not looking back and saying something. You had let him go, thinking it was the right thing to do, thinking it wouldn’t matter.

This mission was nearing its end. Soon, you’d be pulling down the entire crime syndicate together, all the pieces falling into place. But each step you took beside him tightened the knot in your chest, making it harder to keep the lines between your past and present clear.

You both walked home as the sun set, painting those same oranges and reds everywhere. A color that suited Bakugou too well.

You couldn’t fall for him again. Not after everything. But despite all your efforts, you were slipping.

And you didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending.

“We’ve got another date tomorrow,” Bakugou said, his tone measured as he unlocked the door.

You nodded stiffly, the thought of another evening like this one making your skin crawl. “Yeah. Can’t wait.”

But just as you turned to head inside, his voice caught you off guard. “(Y/N)—” Your real name slipped from his lips, so casual, as if the past years hadn’t driven a wedge between you. The sound of it froze both you and him mid-step.

You hadn’t heard him say your name in years, and it hit you harder than you’d care to admit. When you turned, his eyes were locked on yours, an expression there you hadn’t seen since before it all went wrong. Something raw, maybe even regretful.

“I mean—” He caught himself, the moment of vulnerability quickly masked with irritation. “Forget it. Just… whatever.”

But the damage was done. That one slip cracked through the walls you thought you built. You both knew it.

Your phone buzzed with a message from a number you had blocked for the past seven years. You had unblocked it for the mission, but part of you had hoped he wouldn’t reach out.

1 New Message from Bakugou Katsuki:I’m outside.

No other explanation, just like him.

The mission was over; the crime syndicate was dismantled, and both of your agencies had everything under control from here on out. You didn’t have to talk to him anymore. Yet here you were, standing at the threshold, opening the door to the man who had shattered your heart.

Bakugou stood there with two meals and a bouquet of flowers, the sight both comforting and surreal. He was no longer in disguise—this was him, the real Katsuki, stripped of the masks he'd worn during your mission. You accepted the flowers, their scent pulling you back to memories you had tried to forget, and sat down to eat, but the air felt heavy, thick with unspoken words.

“You’re quiet,” he muttered, eyeing you with that familiar intensity. “What’s going on? You’ve been actin’ weird since I got here.”

You swallowed hard, knowing he’d pick up on it. He always did, whether you wanted him to or not.

“I’m fine,” you lied, the words catching in your throat. Suddenly, you stood up, desperate for distance, but his hand shot out, gripping your arm gently but firmly, halting you in your tracks.

“Don’t pull that bullshit on me.” His voice was low, thick with concern. “You’ve been off for days now. Spit it out.”

Your heart raced, pulse hammering in your ears. You couldn’t keep this bottled up any longer.

“I can’t do this,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can’t do what?” he pressed, brows furrowing in confusion.

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely between you. “Pretending. Acting like everything’s okay. It’s not. You—” Your voice cracked, but you forced yourself to continue. “I can’t let myself fall for you again. Not after what you did.” Regret seeped in, laced with self-loathing for letting him affect you this deeply.

His expression twisted, a mix of bewilderment and concern. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You felt the dam inside you break, the flood of emotions you’d been holding back spilling over. “I saw you, Bakugou. Seven years ago. You kissed her, that girl on your mission. You ruined everything, and now I’m—” You clenched your fists, struggling to keep your voice steady. “Now I’m falling for you all over again, and it’s killing me.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Then, slowly, he let go of your arm and stepped back.

“Wait,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, tinged with disbelief. “You… you think I cheated on you?”

“I don’t think,” you snapped, bitterness flooding your words. “I know. I saw it with my own eyes, Bakugou.”

His gaze widened, processing your accusation, then something clicked, and realization washed over him. “Holy shit,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really thought…? That kiss wasn’t what you think.”

You blinked, confusion swirling inside you. “What?”

“I didn’t kiss her,” he said, voice rising slightly, desperate to clarify. “She kissed me. I didn’t want it. I pushed her away and never talked to her since.”

Stunned, you stared at him, grappling with the weight of his words. “But… you never said anything.”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “I thought you knew. I thought… damn it, I thought I didn’t deserve to fix it.”

The air around you felt charged, heavy with emotions that threatened to explode. Could this entire mess really be a misunderstanding?

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you asked softly, the hurt spilling over into your voice, memories of your pain surfacing anew.

“Because I’m an idiot,” Bakugou admitted, his voice thick with regret. “I thought it was too late. Thought I’d already lost you.”

The truth of his words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings. As tears began to well in your eyes, you felt the walls between you shatter, leaving behind only a fragile, flickering connection.

Tears blurred your vision, and before you could process it, he stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he murmured, voice cracking. His grip was tight, as if he was afraid you’d slip away. “You’re the only one— fuck, you’ve always been the only one.”

The tension between you dissipated, but the weight of everything you thought you knew hung heavily in the air. His eyes were bloodshot, reflecting the pain and regret etched into his features, tears spilling over. It was a sight you’d never thought you’d witness—the strong, brash Bakugou Katsuki, reduced to this vulnerable state.

Just how deeply had this affected him? The thought lingered, and as the truth hung between you, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the beginning of a new chapter or just another cruel twist of fate.

Bakugou’s grip on you tightened, as if he feared the moment would slip away, just like the years had. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. It was a comfort and a reassurance, a silent promise that he was here now, willing to fight for this connection.

“Just let me in,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Please.”

And with that simple plea, the dam holding back your emotions broke. You stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest, every insecurity and doubt crashing against the newfound hope. You needed this; you needed him.

In that moment, you surged forward, pressing your lips against his. The kiss was tentative at first, a gentle exploration, as if both of you were afraid to break the fragile spell woven around you. But as his lips moved against yours, the urgency of everything unspoken flooded the space between you.

He kissed you like a man starved, lips tangling into a kiss that held all of yours and his pain for the last seven years. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, regret, and an undeniable desire that had been buried for far too long.

You responded with fervor, deepening the kiss as his hands tangled in your hair, anchoring you to him. Every hesitance melted away, replaced by a passion that ignited every nerve ending in your body. It felt like coming home, a feeling you had both craved yet feared to admit.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the weight of the past slowly lifting, the pain of misunderstandings giving way to the warmth of reconciliation. You lost yourself in the moment, surrendering to the feelings that had been pent up for seven long years. His lips moved with a fervor that mirrored your own, igniting a fire that blazed brighter than anything you had experienced before.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, your foreheads rested against each other, hearts racing in unison. He searched your eyes, looking for confirmation that this was real, that he wasn’t just dreaming.

He felt himself overheating from the passion of your kisses, each one igniting a fire within him that he had thought long extinguished. His mind soared in high heavens, finally basking in the warmth of your presence after years spent in the cold shadows of longing. He had followed your social media from behind an alternate account, feeling like a ghost haunting your life, a silent spectator filled with regret every time he clicked on a photo that showcased your happiness without him.

All the weight he had carried—the suffocating pain of feeling unloved and unwanted—began to lift, like a storm finally breaking. He regretted even talking to that female coworker, ever. In hindsight, he would have quit his job at Endeavor’s Agency in a heartbeat if he had known it would cost him the chance to be in your arms. The memory of those years was a constant ache, a reminder that he had let something precious slip away.

He had tried to move on, but the moments replayed in his mind like a cruel movie reel. He remembered the nights when Kirishima had dragged him to parties, urging him to loosen up, but the moment Kirishima disappeared into the crowd, all he could see was you and some guy—glowing with laughter, surrounded by people who didn't understand the depth of his heartache.

Then he saw it—the news flashing a photo of you with that actor. “A fucking actor this time? She’s fucking an actor?” The bitterness clawed at his throat. “They lie for a living. They’re just damn frauds.”

You looked so damn happy, smiling up at that guy as if he hung the stars in the sky—just like you used to smile at him. It felt like a knife twisting in his gut, a searing reminder of what he had lost. He was consumed by jealousy, the bitterness so overwhelming that he downed shot after shot, trying to drown out the memory of your smile, the way it lit up his world. He found a random girl with the same hair color, desperate to fill the void, but it never worked. She didn’t talk like you; her voice didn’t hold the same warmth, the same inviting tone that wrapped around him like a familiar blanket.

He replayed the same mantra every month when you posted another photo on Instagram or when he saw you on the news with someone new. “You’ll never be mine again.” The words echoed in his mind like a painful lullaby, lulling him into a false sense of acceptance while simultaneously ripping his heart apart.

Yet here you were now, in his arms, and for the first time in years, he dared to hope. But the memories lingered, haunting him, the ghost of every moment he had let slip away swirling around them. Bakugou knew he had to confront the past he had run from, and as he kissed you, he resolved to do everything in his power to make sure you never felt that emptiness again.

a/n: smut coming for the next chapter in this two-parter! i realllllllllly enjoyed writing this one! it pulled at my heartstrings WHILE writing it. i had to pause from time to time and just take a breath lmfao

thanks for reading! anywayy, taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just bakugou/bnha chars or if you want news on allll my fics. i plan on writing haikyuu characters eventually, too!

btw. not beta read, pls lmk if there are any typos or inconsistencies <3 stay safe & hydrated as always!

taglist: @kalulakunundrum

directory/m.list

next chapter ⇨

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #reader insert #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #fluff #bakugou x you #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha au #katsuki bakugo x reader #katuski bakugo #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugou smut

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theloganator101 · 3 months ago

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The Great BNHA Review: We Live in a Society

The world of fiction! The place where everything in the story happens. So when you're worldbuilding there are many things to take into consideration to make the world of your story feel alive.

From the people that inhabits it, the cities, towns, villages, and locations the characters live in. And even having a set of rules to follow to avoid plot holes and help the world they live in make sense.

Much like how despite technology being more advanced compared to real life, yet still not being able to have flying cars or advanced robots. Those kind of things can sometimes break immersion in the story, and as a writer you would want to avoid that as much as possible.

HOWEVER! The world BNHA takes place in doesn't make a lick of sense when you think about it for more than thirty seconds, and the foundation of the world breaks the more you think about it.

Case in point, UA!

I think at this point we all can agree that UA wasn't an actual school and instead a glorified boot camp to train child soldiers to fight. And for a series called MY HERO ACADEMIA!! There's hardly any academia in it at all.

Apparently Hori didn't wanna bother with that part of the series and being forced to write "boring" scenes and just get back to the exciting battles. Like where're the scenes of the class studying for their latest tests? Where're the scenes of the kids doing their favorite activities? Where're the scenes of them bonding with their superiors?

WHERE'S THE FUCKING ACADEMIA PART OF THIS GOD FORSAKEN SERIES!?!?!

You can't just name it My Hero Academia and only give us 20% of what the show is called! It just feels like false advertising at this point!

Also about the whole child soldier thing? Yeah let's go deeper into that.

Why are we relying on TEENAGERS to fight in these big battles and save the world when they've only been in hero school for a single year? That's literally like forcing teenagers to discover a cure of a disease when they've only taken a year of biology class!

And yeah, I get it, it's an anime so it's expecting you to suspend your disbelief, and they already had experience with fighting villains before so it would make sense to recruit them. But again, these are fucking teenagers and we shouldn't be relying on them to fight battles the adults should be able to handle!

This is one of the biggest problems of having your story take place in a world similar to modern real life, because here adults actually gives a shit as to what children go through and knows it would be fucked up to send them to fight in war! And the excuse of it taking place in Japan and thus how they do things is different compared to most countries is NOT GOING TO CUT IT!

These grown ass adults should KNOW bringing kids to fight in a war is fucked up and should NOT be encouraged! But since they're so desperate they choose to get them involved! The only exception to this is Rock Lock since he already knows this!

Okay, let's step away from the whole child soldier thing and focus on something the story never gave us introspection of... the fact that we never got to see how quirkless people are really treated.

It's explained that 20% of the population is quirkless, so almost a quarter are born without it. And from what we saw of Izuku's life with it, discrimination must be a common thing in their society. So it would make sense to explore that since it's tied to the main character's backstory and how he's going to make things better for others like him.

... Except that's not how it goes.

We never get to see how the life of a quirkless person is like, we never get to canonically see Izuku interacting with someone like him with the only exception being Melissa. But the thing about her is that she grew up on an island and her father a respected scientist, so it's kind of difficult to tell how the quirkless life is like if this is the only example we get... and it's not a good one.

But wait! There is a canon major character that was also quirkless like Izuku! And it's Yuga Aoyama. And how did the story treated him?

Oh it was revealed real late into the story with no awareness and treated him like shit for being an unwilling traitor, then replace him with Shinsou who whined and complained his way into the Hero Course.

Uhh, what the fuck?

And the worst part about all this is that Izuku has no reaction or acknowledgement whatsoever! He doesn't sympathize or feel less alone, he doesn't comment or say anything about this! So it's like what's even the point!?

Oh don't worry, we'll come back to this whole Izuku not acknowledging his past later in the review! But there's one more thing I wanna talk about in this world.

Is how blatantly biased society is to the Heroics occupation.

From what we've seen and learned, people are not allowed to use their quirks in public. And that the only way would be able to legally use them is to have a provisional license... which is only obtained if you're training to be a hero.

Uhh, but what if you don't wanna go into heroics? What if there is a person who wants to be a comedian? A layer? A construction worker? What if they have quirks that they think would help them in their jobs? Would they get in trouble if they tried using their quirks on the job? Is the Provisional License exam the only way to be able to use your quirk freely? Is there another test people can take to get one if they don't want to go into heroics?

Yeah you see what I'm trying to say here?

Since Hori's so focused on getting to the next big battle that he barely thinks about the world BNHA takes place in and leaves holes in the process. The world of BNHA feels more like a dystopia where heroics is all that matters and that anything else is boring and not as interesting. And since the world itself is so flawed, that I don't feel immersed into it at all and all I have are these questions on how things are run.

So in the next part, we'll be taking a look into the themes and messages the story tries to tell it's readers... but oh boy, did it really fumble with it's messages.

#bnha critical #mha critical #horikoshi critical #anti horikoshi #horikoshi why #hori is a bad writer

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damnfandomproblems · 1 month ago

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Fandom Problem #6016:

When a reviewer and/or critic refuse to recognize when their own personal opinions and biases they leak onto their criticisms.

For example, twist villains and redemption arcs. Now twist villains and redemption arcs are not inherently a good or bad thing (like most other tropes). They are merely things that can be used to tell a variety of stories.

But a lot of these critics have this idea that if they've seen these tropes used in something that they thought was bad, than those tropes in of themselves must be inherently bad. Which is not true in the slightest? If you seen a redemption arc/twist villain done poorly in a work, then you've seen it done poorly in that particular work. Just because a lot of people didn't use certain tropes in a good way, doesn't mean that trope can't be used for good things at all.

And even if you dislike those tropes in general, fine. But that doesn't mean you get to hop around acting like certain movies and shows don't get as many gold star stickers because they used a single trope that you personally don't care for. If you can't separate your criticisms from your own personal tastes, then what's the point of doing a "review" when you could just state your opinions by themselves?

TL;DR "I personally don't like like it, so it must be bad" is a shit criticism, quit using it.

#ask box submission #fandom problem 6016

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scary-grace · 3 months ago

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Opposites Attract (Chapter 2) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your quirk lets you capture almost anyone with ease, and you can't believe you let Shigaraki Tomura escape. Shigaraki can't believe it, either, and according to the League, there's only one possible explanation -- you let him go because you've fallen in love with him. He decides to find out if it's true. You decide you won't fail to capture him again. You both get a lot more than you bargained for. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 2

It’s been two weeks since the League of Villains vs Kamino Ward: Round 2, and there hasn’t been a single day that somebody hasn’t read you the riot act. It wasn’t enough that Miruko did it on-scene, well within microphone range of every single news crew who swarmed the park – every senior hero in Yokohama got in on it, too. And as if it wasn’t already your worst week ever, the HPSC called you in for a formal review of your pro hero license. You didn’t sleep at all the night before, and when you got to the hearing half an hour early with sweat stains already oozing through your one nice blouse, you found out that they’d done the review already, and the hearing was just to present the findings. One of the members of the committee mentioned that you looked a little pale. In hindsight, you’re amazed you didn’t have a heart attack.

You found out that the review of your license was a PR thing more than anything else – although your choices weren’t popular or flashy, nothing about how you handled the incident fell outside the hero code. Not that it matters to the general public. If you had an agency, they’d be booking you on podcasts and talk shows so you could explain yourself, but you’re underground, so you’re stuck listening to TV presenters who’ve never met a villain and podcasters who’d piss themselves if they came face to face with even the pettiest of criminals, all talking about how badly you blew it. There was even a petition circling demanding that you make a public apology for what happened to the All Might statue – one apology to the sculptor who made the statue, and one to All Might himself. When that one started making the rounds, you set your social media accounts to private and hid from your phone for the next three days.

Things are starting to die down, you think, but you’ve still got one stop left on your humiliation tour, and it’s the one you’re dreading the most. Your alma mater is always looking for learning experiences to offer their students, so you’re spending this afternoon at UA, listening while the first-year hero students pick apart every action you took in Kamino Park.

It’s an open forum, so everyone who wants to run their mouth gets a chance to do it, and you sit stonefaced in your chair, praying for your composure to hold. Eraserhead said he’d give you chances to respond, and he does, every time a student sits down. But you don’t want to get into a back-and-forth with a bunch of kids. You did what you did. You can’t go back. Maybe they can learn from what you did wrong.

What did you do wrong, actually? The HPSC cleared you. You’re so unpopular right now that they’d seize any chance they got to strip your licenses, but they cleared you – and you’re still here, listening to a bunch of teenagers take shots at you. The unfairness boils up inside you all at once, and when the next kid sits down, you stand up before Eraser invites you to.

“You all think you could have done better than me out there,” you start. “Maybe you’re right. There are always things that could be done better. What did I do wrong?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Are you stupid or something?” Bakugou asks you. “They got away! That’s what you did wrong!”

“Is it? Kurogiri and Shigaraki got away at USJ, and again at Kamino the first time. I don’t see you lighting All Might’s ass up,” you shoot back. Bakugou makes an affronted sound. “Answer me for real this time. What was my actual, quantifiable mistake?”

It’s quiet for another beat. Eraser opens his mouth, but Class B’s teacher speaks up first. “That’s the more interesting question,” he says. “We’ve talked about how Skynet could have done better. What actual mistake did Skynet make that led to the final outcome of the incident?”

You know what it was, deep in your heart, and you also know that the only person who could call you on it is somebody you hope you never see again. A hand creeps up, and Vlad calls on the student – one of Eraser’s. “Yes, Midoriya?”

“I don’t know if I would call it a mistake,” Midoriya says, “but I was wondering – why didn’t you use more of your quirk?”

That’s a new one. You wait quietly, and Midoriya elaborates. “I mean, Magnetism has dozens of applications. You’re sort of known for being creative with how you use it. And r/herojapan did a power ranking of every active hero and you ranked the highest out of all non-charted heroes.”

That’s news to you. “So I guess that’s what I want to know,” Midoriya concludes. “If you have a quirk with a lot of applications and a lot of power to work with, how could the League of Villains escape?”

“Uh –” You glance at Vlad King, then at Eraserhead. They both gesture for you to go on. “What you said about my quirk – you’re right. I can go big with it. But the bigger I go with it, the less control I have, and I’m not creating magnetic fields out of thin air. I’m enhancing and altering what already exists. Every magnetic field I alter is touching another one, and my alterations affect those fields, too. If I want to use my quirk safely on a large scale, I have to alter some magnetic fields while stabilizing others simultaneously, and I have to do that while protecting civilians and assisting my fellow heroes and trying not to get killed. Using my quirk on the scale I would have needed at Kamino just isn’t possible.”

You can tell Midoriya doesn’t get it. Nobody else does, either. “Maybe you should demonstrate,” the girl from Class B who can make her hands enormous says. “Show us what would have happened if you used your quirk the way Midoriya is talking about at Kamino.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Vlad says. “Ground Beta should be open right now. Let’s go.”

Vlad was your homeroom teacher in your first year at UA. You’ve been struggling not to call him sensei since you set foot on campus, and you know he knows how much you’ve struggled with your quirk. You also knew he was going to support you, but you’re not sure you like how he’s doing it – proving that you’re right, sure, but proving it by proving that you can’t handle your quirk at even partial strength, when the way you were using your quirk wasn’t even the real problem. If you had reacted faster, gotten a solid grip on Shigaraki through other means instead of getting distracted by how not-okay he is, you’d have held all the cards by the time the warp villain came to play. You’d like to see the warp villain try to back you into a corner when you’ve got a piece of rebar wrapped around Shigaraki’s throat.

But you didn’t have your shit together, because you were too stuck on just how shocked Shigaraki looked when you asked if he was okay. Not fake-shocked, not mocking-shocked, not look-at-the-hypocritical-hero-pretending-to-care shocked – truly, honestly shocked, like you’re the first person who’s asked him that question in a while. You flatly refuse to entertain the thought that you’re the first person who’s ever asked him that, because that would be too goddamn sad and you’re not into woobifying villains. You know more than a few heroes who have those romance novels about getting captured and ravished by a not-bad-just-misunderstood villain hanging out on their e-readers, and that’s not your style at all. So why did it bother you, seeing that look on Shigaraki’s face? Why are you still thinking about it two weeks later?

You shake it off as you, Eraser, Vlad, and the students reach Ground Beta. If you don’t want anybody to guess how you actually messed up, you need to do a good job proving that their idea of your mistake is the right one.

Vlad sets up a target a quarter of a mile down Ground Beta’s main street – the distance from one end of Kamino Park to the other – then makes his way back to you and the others. Eraserhead ushers everybody away from you. “Okay,” you say, projecting your voice, “I’m going to show you what it would have looked like for me to use my quirk to drag the League of Villains to me from across Kamino Park.”

Part of you is tempted to just blow it. Use your quirk recklessly, without worrying about consequences or property damage or anything but how it feels to finally let loose. But you’re a hero. You need to set a good example, not give the students even more reasons to question why you still have your license, and even here, there’s a chance that using your quirk at full strength isn’t safe. You get set, feeling the stabilizers in your boots anchor you to the ground. You tap into your metal sense, identifying the target a quarter mile away. Then you extend your hand, activate your quirk as precisely as you can manage, and pull.

The practice target starts moving. Unfortunately, so does everything else. No matter how hard you try to keep your focus on the target and only the target, metal fragments in the concrete lurch upwards, responding to your shift in the magnetic fields, pulling the street apart. The buildings on either side crumple inwards as their steel frameworks tear free. Lightposts bend into impossible shapes. Manhole covers lift from the street and fly towards you, forcing you to employ your other hand to stop them from striking the students behind you. The air vibrates. And sure, the practice target is flying towards you at high speed – but the destruction you’re wreaking on everything in between you and it is worse than what anyone but Shigaraki could have done to Kamino Memorial Park.

You let your grip on the magnetic fields fall when the target’s within thirty feet or so, and let momentum do the rest. Then you turn back towards the students. “This looks bad, right? If I’d done this at Kamino, it would be even worse. Anybody want to guess why?”

“Water mains,” the girl from 1-A with the Creation quirk says at once. You nod. “Cities are full of underground infrastructure, and most of that is made of metal. If your quirk is hard to focus narrowly at a distance from the target, you could do billions of yen worth of property damage.”

“What about people?” the electricity kid from 1-A says – the electricity kid who, if you remember right, also has a wide-range quirk. “Do they get caught when you do that?”

“No,” you say. “I have to be at close range to manipulate the iron in someone’s body. And they have to have enough iron in their bloodstream to make it possible.”

You say that, cringe, and brace yourself for what must be coming – one of the students, probably Midoriya, realizing that Shigaraki’s weapons-grade anemia is what kept him out of your reach at first. Followed by one of the students, probably Midoriya, asking why you didn’t use any of the other means at your disposal to capture him. “Oh,” the electricity kid says instead. “I get it now.”

“I have a question, Skynet,” Bakugou says loudly. “Couldn’t you do all that without destroying everything if you trained your quirk harder?”

You asked yourself that question a lot when you were a student at UA. The theoretical answer was always yes. “No,” you say, without getting into all the reasons why. “Does anyone else have a question?”

A Class B student named Honenuki has a question about what types of property you should avoid damaging if possible, and a Class B student named Monoma wants to know whether you were in Class A or Class B when you were at UA. He looks pretty happy when you say Class B, which is weird. You’re persona non grata among heroes right now. It doesn’t make a ton of sense that he’s excited that you were in the same class as he is. Vlad doesn’t ask you how things have been going; he just pats your shoulder and walks off. You try to escape before Eraserhead can talk to you, and make it exactly five steps before he calls out. “Skynet.”

You grit your teeth. “Do you want me to apologize, too?”

“For what?” Eraser looks irritated. “I asked you to look after my students. You looked after them. I’d be asking you to apologize if you’d let them fight.”

“Oh.” You weren’t looking forward to making that apology. “Then, um – what did you want to talk to me about?”

“My students are used to having their quirks temporarily canceled, but my quirk is unique. They’re much more likely to run into villains whose powers serve to restrain them,” Eraser says. You get where he’s going with this and try to interrupt, but he talks right over you. “I want you to come back for at least one of our basic training sessions. It’s rational to give them a chance to practice against a power set like yours, and it’ll also allow you the chance to work on fine-tuning your quirk.”

You knew there was a backhand somewhere in there. “My quirk’s as fine-tuned as it’s going to get.”

“We’ll see,” Eraser says. “The next basic training where all my students will be present is next Thursday. Come in.”

You recall making a promise to yourself, one which included telling Eraser to go to hell if he asked any more favors. But you still need to rehab your image. A lot. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

You change out of your costume before you leave campus – everything except your boots, which you wear almost all the time – and while you’re waiting for the train, you get a text from the group chat you have with the three other female pros who debuted in the same year as you. That’s about the only thing the four of you have in common, but that’s not stopping Yue from messaging in all caps. I MISSED MY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY! WE NEED TO CELEBRATE <3 <3 <3

Yue was the last one of the four of you to debut. Her agency held her back for maximum press impact, whereas you just picked a day at random to quit working as a sidekick and strike out for yourself. Kagura, another member of the debut class, texts back before you can. Spa night?

That sounds good to you, but it’s not Yue’s speed at all. GOING OUT! I CAN GET US INTO CLUB 100 IN TOKYO!

Right – Yue’s number 25, as of the most recent billboard chart update. Mayuko, the member of the class you get along with best, texts next. It might be nice to see what it’s like?

Kagura gives a thumbs-up, and Yue sets the celebration date for tonight – and orders you all to come to her apartment to get ready. She has a special message for you. NO BOOTS, SKY. THEY’RE TOO CLUNKY FOR DANCING.

You send back a frowny face, and Mayuko chimes in. You can borrow my shoes. It’s been so long since we got together! I can’t wait!

That’s true, and you’ve missed them – but right now you’re a liability. Are you sure you want to be seen in public with me? I’m sort of radioactive right now.

Nobody will recognize you out of costume, Yue says, instead of what you were hoping she’d say, which is that it doesn’t matter and she has your back. Be at my place at 6!

There goes your quiet night. You board your train and lean back in your seat. If you have to go dancing tonight, you’d better catch some rest now.

Shigaraki refreshes the page, frowning. Then he refreshes it again, getting the same message. What the hell does ‘set to private’ mean? He googles it, learns that only approved followers can see an Instagram account that’s set to private, and feels a surge of annoyance. It figures. He spent two weeks debating whether or not to look you up, and by the time he’s finally decided it’s not creepy to look up the weird hero who has a crush on him, you locked all of your stupid social media accounts.

Part of Shigaraki still thinks everybody’s messing with him – everybody except Toga, who’s delusional, and Twice, who’s probably never touched a girl who wasn’t in the process of arresting him. But something about it keeps bothering Shigaraki. Something about you keeps bothering him. Thinking about it makes him itch, and not thinking about it isn’t working. After two weeks of trying both, Shigaraki decided to look you up and find out what you’ve said about him and the League of Villains, so he can finally delete the mental save file with you in it.

But you haven’t said much about the League of Villains. Shigaraki can’t tell if that’s because no one’s asked you or because you don’t have anything to say – or at least not anything you’d say publicly, which is why he went looking for your personal social media accounts and found them all locked. Shigaraki scratches with one hand and looks you up on Reddit with the other. He has to be pretty specific in his search query. Just looking up “Skynet” brings up a lot of stuff about movies.

The Reddit threads about you are a mix of obsessive hero fans and people who think you’re hot. The latter group spends a lot of time bitching about the fact that you don’t post enough thirst traps. It doesn’t seem like you go for fanservice. Good. Shigaraki hates heroes on principle, but he hates the ones who don’t showboat ever so slightly less.

You used to work with Eraserhead, which is probably why he let you supervise his class. You went to UA. There are links to all your Sports Festival performances, and Shigaraki bookmarks them for later, in case you’ve got skills you didn’t show in the fight at Kamino. You’re not very well-known, and none of your arrests have been of big-time villains. And as far as Shigaraki can find, you’ve never said a word about the League.

It’s not like Shigaraki was expecting to find a whole essay about why you don’t hate the League and why you have a crush on him. He wouldn’t have liked that. But he also doesn’t like the fact that you apparently didn’t think about the League at all before you fought him at Kamino. Maybe you did and you were just keeping quiet about it. Or maybe you didn’t care at all until you met Shigaraki in person, and then you – what? Worried about him? Cared about him? Wanted him to live? Do people actually fall in love at first sight?

Toga would say yes, but Toga’s seventeen, and also insane. Shigaraki can’t take anything Toga says at face value.

There’s one other spot on Reddit where Shigaraki finds you – in a thread on the weirdest hero names. He remembers the movies that kept popping up in his earlier search results and finds one of them on his favorite pirating site. He’s bored. There’s nothing to do right now. He’s decided not to do anything else until the dust has settled. He has time for a movie.

The hideout is quiet right now. Dabi’s been gone all day. Toga and Twice left this afternoon, either to scout things out or to steal more supplies, and Spinner, Compress, and Magne are all napping in the next room. This afternoon, Shigaraki sent Kurogiri to ask the doctor for help. He didn’t want to do that, but with Sensei gone – gone, and it’s Shigaraki’s fault, because it was his stupid plan – the League is out of Nomus and running out of money. They need backup, and Kurogiri’s better at convincing the doctor to do things than Shigaraki is. A scarecrow with a paper bag over its head is better at convincing people to do things than Shigaraki is. If Shigaraki was convincing at all, he would have won Bakugou over, and none of this would have happened.

The movie is sci-fi, or maybe horror. It’s also really old, from some time period where all the movies were set in a world where quirks don’t exist. If quirks existed, this movie would be over before it even started. Probably. Shigaraki wonders if you’ve seen this movie. If you liked it. What other things do you like, in addition to him?

A few minutes later, he gets an answer to at least one of his questions. You’ve definitely seen this movie, and you must have liked it, or you wouldn’t have named yourself after the evil supercomputer that nuked humanity and started building killer robots to take out anybody who survived. Now Shigaraki gets why you were on the list of heroes with weird names, and he’s pretty sure you should be at the top of it. You must have at least a couple screws loose. That’s probably why you took one look at Shigaraki and decided to fall in love with him. If you have fallen in love with him. Have you?

Shigaraki needs to stop thinking about this. He presses play on the movie again. Now that he’s got at least an answer or two, maybe he can focus on something else. Something other than the fact that he’s tired and hungry and has a headache and will probably get dizzy if he stands up too fast, just like he always has. And the fact that none of those things were a problem until you asked if he was okay.

He must fall asleep or something, because the next thing he knows, the screen of his phone’s gone dark, and someone is hollering at him from the other room. “What?” Shigaraki shouts back.

“Get in here,” Dabi says. Dabi’s back. “Your girlfriend’s on the news.”

“All over the news,” Toga adds gleefully, before Shigaraki can argue back that a) you’re not his girlfriend because b) he doesn’t even like you. “She’s even cuter when she’s covered in blood!”

What? Shigaraki stands up too fast, comes close to blacking out, and scrambles unsteadily into the other room. Magne has the TV on, and Shigaraki elbows his way past Compress and Dabi for a look at the screen. It’s the national news, a special report. Something about speed brakes failing on a Shinkansen headed through Tokyo and a catastrophic derailment. Or what would have been a catastrophic derailment, if it wasn’t for you. Before Shigaraki can tell somebody to look up what happened on their phone – his is dead – the news broadcast plays a video of the incident. All Shigaraki and the others can do is stare.

“Damn,” Spinner says into the silence that falls afterwards. “If she’d done that at Kamino, you all would have been toast.”

No kidding. Shigaraki didn’t go to school past kindergarten, but every idiot knows that trains are heavy, and knows that the faster something is going, the harder it is to stop. In the video, you’re on the tracks behind the speeding train, hand outstretched. Shigaraki sees the train shudder when your quirk catches it. It yanks you off your feet about three seconds later, and you get dragged out of the frame facedown, one hand still extended, still hanging on. Whoever’s holding the camera pans left, following the train, and it’s pretty obvious that the train is slowing down. Shigaraki thought your quirk was good for paralyzing people and pulling wires out of the ground. He’d never have guessed you were capable of this.

“Why didn’t she do that at Kamino?” Dabi asks, baffled. “She could have made it big as the hero who took down the League of Villains instead of getting dragged by the press for letting us go.”

“Which do you think dragged her harder, the press or the train?” Magne cackles, and Dabi snorts. “She looks like roadkill –”

“Don’t be dumb,” Toga says to Magne. “She’s got blood all over her. It’s cute! And she let us go at Kamino because she loves Tomura-kun.”

“Oh, right.” Magne nods. Dabi’s still snickering. “The train isn’t half as cute as the boss is!”

Dabi’s snickering gets worse, and Twice is guffawing in the background. Shigaraki yanks the remote out of Magne’s hand and turns up the volume on the TV to drown them out. “ – pleased to report a lack of severe injuries to the passengers, courtesy of the gradual stop achieved by what was first believed to be a civilian acting without authorization,” the newscaster is saying. They’re on the scene. There’s an ambulance in the background. “We’ve since confirmed that the individual responsible for the save is an off-duty hero by the name of Skynet. We have her right here –”

The camera zooms in on you, just in time for you to spit a mouthful of blood into the gutter. Magne was right – you look like shit – and Toga was right – you’re covered in blood. You’re not wearing your costume, and your clothes are pretty shredded. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand and stand up straight, grimacing. Shigaraki’s taken his share of hits in battle before. He’s impressed against his will.

The interviewer is asking you a bunch of questions, and Shigaraki listens carefully. Now that he knows how powerful your quirk actually is, he needs as many clues as possible about how it works. He picks up things here and there, but he keeps getting distracted by you. By the blood dripping from the corner of your mouth. By the big, bloody scrapes across your torso. By the way one of your shoulders is pretty obviously dislocated, and the fact that you’re standing there doing an interview when you should be getting help. Shigaraki doesn’t need to ask a stupid question about whether or not you’re okay. He knows you’re not. Why does he care?

Because you were off-duty. Because this wasn’t your job. Because you got in trouble for letting Shigaraki go at Kamino and still jumped onto the tracks to get dragged four hundred yards behind an out-of-control train. The heroic system is bullshit, and there’s nothing defensible about it, but that train probably had hundreds of people on it, and they’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. Being a hero is idiotic at best. But if it’s possible to do an idiotic thing the right way, you’re doing it.

The interviewer is asking you why you stepped in when you weren’t on duty, and you’re getting pretty visibly annoyed. Spinner is the only person other than Shigaraki who’s still watching. “She’s underground, right?” he asks. Shigaraki nods without looking away from the screen. “She acts like a true hero. Stain would approve.”

Shigaraki doesn’t give a shit what the Hero Killer thinks about anything. But he has a really bad feeling that he’s starting to give a shit about you. What the hell is he supposed to do about it?

Turn you, obviously. The League could use a quirk like yours, and it would be a serious blow to hero society for an established hero to join forces with Shigaraki. You probably weren’t trying to get Shigaraki’s attention by stopping a speeding train, but you’ve got his attention now, for a good reason instead of a stupid one. The thought of your feelings for him is a lot less uncomfortable now that they’re something he can use.

Kurogiri gets back from the doctor with bad news – the doctor can’t help them right now, because they’re taking too much heat. It sounds like bullshit to Shigaraki, but he has something else on his mind. He talks to Kurogiri away from the others. “Find out where Skynet lives.”

Kurogiri looks surprised. “Why?”

“She’s stronger than I thought. We can use her.”

“I see,” Kurogiri says, but he’s giving Shigaraki a weird look. “Why do you need to know where she lives?”

“So I can let her know I’m interested,” Shigaraki says. Kurogiri’s expression doesn’t shift. “I don’t have to tell her what I’m interested in.”

Kurogiri’s still making a weird face. As much as Kurogiri can make any kind of face. “Right?” Shigaraki prompts, and Kurogiri nods. “Right. Once we know where she is, what should I do?”

“Something subtle,” Kurogiri suggests. “Consider it while I seek the information you requested.”

Something subtle. Easy enough. Shigaraki feels better about the whole thing than he has since he ran into you for the first time. You’re in love with him? That’s fine. If you love him so much, you can help him destroy the world.

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