#There's gonna be some heavy discussion alongside of battle

[shibaraki]

THE KIDS ARE GONNA BE ALRIGHT ┊ AIZAWA SHOUTA

synopsis: teachers are like bridges, there to facilitate students on their ungainly journey through life. add a war, a new subject, a gaggle of traumatised children and a handsome coworker with an apparent sleeping disorder—see where the bridge leads.

tags: GN reader (referred to as 'Sensei'), coworkers to lovers, reader is a teacher at UA (quirk science), single parent aizawa (adopted eri), some workplace shenanigans, meddling kids (class 2A + B), mutual pining, fluff + angst, learning difficulties, references to PTSD, getting together, first kisses + making out, suggestive content + heavy themes, post war arc (heavily implied spoilers ahead), HAPPY + HOPEFUL END

wc: 19K

From: Principal.Nedzu@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: Welcome to UA! Message:  Good morning!  It is my pleasure to welcome you to UA — we are very excited to have you aboard! The files attached to this email are as follows:  

A map of the campus

The UA handbook and Emergency guideline

The Teachers Code of Conduct 

Please refer back to these regularly to familiarise yourself with everything. As we discussed in our prior phone call a place has been prepared in the teachers dormitory in preparation for your move. Your key and security badge are at the reception desk. Please bring identification to collect them. Do let me know if you require a reserved spot in the parking area. 

One last thing to note: 

The staff lounge and kitchen is located in the west wing of the first floor heroics building. It is regularly restocked with snacks and beverages. The coffee machine is also available to you at any time. Feel free to help yourself!

If you have any further questions you can email me or call me. I will get back to you as soon as possible. 

Kind regards,

Nedzu Principal of UA High School  〒123-4567 Ōikuyō, Shizuoka, Musutafu.  Go Beyond, Plus Ultra!

Your new world is bordered by a large imposing wall. 

It towers above your head, reinforced concrete and steel reaching for the heavens, housing weapons you could only imagine. Gone is the classic archway that once welcomed students with open arms. The public walkway leading uphill to the school is cordoned off. 

Even alongside global assistance progress was slow. A large chunk of Musutafu had remained levelled— debris and dust, unrecognisable. After the battle ended, rebuilding the country came first. Hospitals and emergency services were given priority; more shelters followed close behind, and once given the go ahead, individuals confined to UA were able to slowly integrate back into their own communities. 

One step at a time. Life stops for nothing, that is clearer than ever. 

You qualified as a quirk specialist, mainly working with college students, teaching science, history and philosophy of quirks. Principal Nedzu was an old acquaintance. You crossed paths at a conference or two, and you saw his name in citations of papers you read from time to time, but it never grew beyond professional respect. Thus, having him reach out to you through your private number had come as a big surprise. 

After the war a number of the current student’s quirks had evolved at an unprecedented rate, largely due to the trauma and strain they endured. He expressed his wish to include quirk study in the new curriculum and reasoned that having someone with your credentials on staff would not only ease the anxiety of the teenagers, but also that of the remaining teachers, who were inexperienced in dealing with stress manifestation. 

The call ended an hour later with a sixty three page contract in your inbox and a new job. You covered a broad range of subjects but your field of study was an elective, therefore smaller than you are used to. Even so it was your territory now. You tried to own it. The desks have been rearranged into a U shape, charts with interactive pieces affixed to the surface, and you decorated the space with Nedzu’s express permission in hopes of making it inviting. 

Over a month into the term and you can’t yet say you regret taking up his offer.

“Phyletic gradualism and punctuated equilibrium are the two extremes in a continuous model of evolution. The first kind is a far more uniform and gradual accumulation of changes that subsequently generate new species…”

Your mouth keeps moving as you scan the classroom for the fifth time, words muffled by the brief loss of focus. The students don’t notice the lapse; most eyes are still on you, some clouded and others intent on listening. It’s a true miracle that nobody has fallen asleep—though Kaminari is always a close call. Beneath it all is the soft, frantic scratch of Midoriya’s pen to paper and his low mutter, holding the attention of a bone weary Bakugo. 

“…Comparatively, punctuated equilibrium proposes that once a species appears, it becomes stable, showing little evolutionary change until an event triggers a rapid speciation process”.

Yaoyorozu’s hand flies up and startles Shinsou to attention. Her enthusiasm brings a slight smile to your lips. You point to her, “Yes, Yaoyorozu?”

“In that case, Sensei, would that mean that quirks are an example of punctuated equilibrium?” she asks. 

“That is the most agreed upon theory amongst the quirk science community,” you reply, directing the answer toward the entire class. There’s a scarce mix of Class A, B, and support students. Monoma straightens under your gaze. He’s flanked by Kouda, who returns a mousy smile, fingers idly petting Yuwai-chan, his pet rabbit. 

“Quirks are our reality—that much is undeniable. But with that comes a myriad of unknowns. How, why, and when did this happen to us?” Striding toward the board you uncap a blue marker with your teeth and write the phrase ‘theories’ down in large, neat penmanship. You cast a passing glance to the clock. Any minute now. 

“There is still no definitive answer. So for your next assignment I’m going to ask that you research and write an essay on a specific theory about the dawn of quirks,” you are helpless to the wicked grin that pulls across your mouth at their collective groan. “It’s due next Friday. That’s ten whole days to complete it! So generous, aren't I?” 

Overhead, a bell blares out an incessant ring to indicate the lessons end, and in a moment of synchronicity each student rouses from their chair. Bakugo shoves his hands into his pockets and makes a beeline for the door and ignores Midoriya’s aborted squawk as he shoves his notes into his backpack. 

“Thank you Sensei,” he stammers, rushing after the boy. “Wait for me, Kacchan!” 

Nobody calls attention to the seemingly tumultuous relationship. The 2A kids in particular watch their interactions with a trepid fondness. They’re always like that—or so Shinsou told you, once, barely audible over Bakugo’s incendiary growls as he hauled his childhood friend into a headlock. You understood it a little when you heard Midoriya’s bubbly laughter for the first time. And you let them be. 

The others file out slowly, lost in conversation or waiting on a friend. Iida stops at your desk and bows before leaving, bidding you an effusive goodbye, a habit he has steadfastly maintained no matter how much you assure him otherwise. In stark contrast the two subdued support students, Toma and Nakao, throw a simple salute with startling synchrony.

Just when you think you have some peace, a shadow crosses your peripheral vision. “Yo, Sensei,” Kaminari chirped. There’s an edge to his voice that draws your attention. Shinsou lingers nearby feigning disinterest as Kaminari fidgets with his blazer button. “About the—uh. About the essay…”

Blinking away your initial confusion you sit up in realisation. “Oh! That’s right,” Kaminari tenses as you lean across the desk, flicking through your copious bits of stationery. You peel off a cloud shaped sticky note and write down a date and time before handing it to the boy. 

“I scheduled a one to one so we can go over everything you’ve done before the deadline,” you explain gently. Kaminari takes the note between his fingers, grip delicate either end as though afraid it might tear. “Don’t worry if you lose that. I’m going to send the details to your student email, and I’ll remind you again on the day. That sound good?”

Had you been any younger your eyes might’ve stung at the clear wonder unfolding on his face; surprised and happy to be accommodated without interrogation. Now there is only a dull ache beneath your skull and resentment in your heart. His reaction spoke to the copious rejection he faced before UA. 

You’ve come to learn that children are only ever as brilliant as you allow them to be. 

“Y—yeah. That’s amazing, thanks Sensei,” Kaminari steadily brightens. His fist hits his chest with a quiet thump, “I won’t let’cha down!” 

“I’m sure you won’t. And please don’t forget to bring your overlays,” you call to them as they amble out into the hallway. Shinsou holds the door, nodding shortly in acknowledgement. The savoury smell of curry has already distracted Kaminari enough to have him forget your discussion. 

You sigh, hearing their laughter grow quiet in the distance. Another muted pang echoes through your skull. Expression contorted, you wince and gather your things, thoughts latched onto the lacquered bento box that awaits in the teachers lounge to distract from the pain. 

The once stream of bustling students becomes a mere trickle, stragglers hanging by the bathrooms, others cross legged in front of their lockers, grouped tightly together without causing obstruction. They appear wilted. An overarching air of despondency; grey against the brightly painted corridor. 

The muscles in your face twinge. You resolve to greet them all, offering a smile as sincere as you can muster despite the heaviness in your heart. For many of these kids, if not all, life would never be the same. So young, grappling with such unprecedented loss. 

You come to a halt. Lofty double doors loom. Your fingers curl into the recessed handle and you slide them open. Though the walls are bare, the windows are large, and into the staff lounge beams intrepid light. 

You’re met with a chorus of sluggish murmurs, few heads lifting to see who has entered. Of the faces present there are two you’re most familiar with—class 2A’s heroics mentor and their homeroom teacher. 

Yagi is hunched at his computer desk. A cardigan too large for his frame is draped across his shoulders and pools around his wrists. Cradled in one hand is a thermos covered in stickers. Steam pours from the open top, wispy tendrils curling into the air. You inhale and recognise the weak scent of bone broth. 

Those sunken eyes flicker as you approach, striking blue roving over your form. Whatever he sees must be cause for concern. “Are you feeling unwell?”

You had felt an immediate fondness for Toshinori Yagi when you first met him. The presence of All Might hung tangibly in the air, a stifling ode to his service that still unnerved those who did not know him, but you were different. Like his colleagues, you looked back and saw a well meaning, sweet but bumbling older man. 

“No, no,” you demurred. “It’s just a headache”. 

Yagi grimaces sympathetically, furrow etched into his brow. Hips slumped low on the staff sofa, garish yellow sleeping bag at his feet, Aizawa hums a low amused sound that draws your attention. You’re surprised he’s awake. “My kids will do that to you,” he murmurs. 

The Erasure hero’s head is tipped to bare his throat, jawline shadowed by stubble. Dark curtains of hair fall across his shoulders. Aizawa is handsome. This you cannot deny. Before you met you’d heard him described as quite the opposite. Yet here you are, magnetised to him; to his callous humour, and the rough, rare instances of laughter; to the sturdy body hidden beneath baggy clothing and the deep, blasé manner in which he speaks. 

You swallow the sight thickly and pinch the bridge of your nose with a self deprecating laugh. It’s just a silly crush. “Nothing like that,” you assure him. The chair creaks slightly beneath your thighs as you recline. “I don’t think I slept well last night”. 

Admitting it invites a sudden wave of fatigue. Aizawa is no stranger to exhaustion. You think he could probably sleep anywhere—hell, you’ve seen him sleep standing up. He regards you thoughtfully, and the longer he stares the warmer your collar becomes. You feel his scrutiny even as you avert your eyes. 

Incognisant to the tension, Yagi continues to fret. “Ah, that’s no good. Let me make you some coffee,” he insists, brushing off his pants as he stands. Yagi sheds the feeble slope from his shoulders and you blink at the burst of energy. 

“Alright. Thank you, Yagi-san,” you reply, voice dwindling as he ducks into the modest kitchen connected to the lounge. Aizawa clicks his tongue. 

“You’ll regret that,” he breathes, ensuring the other man would not hear. “Unless you’re a fan of drinking tar”. 

“Don’t be mean. I’m sure it’s not that bad,” your trembling lips press firmly together, not wanting to to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh. He exhales and shrugs as if to say ‘it’s your funeral’. 

Yagi soon returns holding a cup of coffee and your bento box. “Here. I thought you might want to eat,” he gives a signature toothy grin. You say nothing of the shake in his hands as he sets them down on your desk and bring the hot drink to your mouth. 

The coffee is awful. You hold your breath and smother the urge to cough, swallowing it down with feigned enthusiasm. The astringent taste lingers. A shudder runs throughout your body and you inhale sharply. “That—will definitely wake me up. Thank you, Yagi-san,” you rasp, trying to smile. Yagi looks rather pleased and gives a thumbs up. 

Next you look, Aizawa has shucked the sleeping bag up to his midsection and burrowed into his capture weapon, leaving only bloodshot eyes visible above the fabric. They’re crinkled at the edges and full of mirth—you interlock and he lifts his chin to mouth, “Told you”. 

That shouldn’t be so attractive, you think.

On the next mouthful of your rice you subtly uncurl your middle finger from beneath your chopsticks and pointedly flip it at Aizawa. He snorts, amused. 

“Gesundheit,” Yagi chimed between sips, enjoying the warm broth in his thermos flask. From what you understood he had to follow a strict liquid only diet. He could hardly stomach solids anymore. “Are you getting sick too, Aizawa-kun?” 

Aizawa sighs at the obliviousness, though you think he’s a little glad for it. 

The conversation tapers and the lunch hour crawls on. Your mind drifts to the students as you idly chew, grains ground to mush, vision blurring out of focus. Thankfully it appeared to be one of their better days. Shinsou remained awake for the entire period. Yaoyarozu participated confidently. The shadows under Bakugo’s eyes hadn’t been as severe. Iida’s legs had not restlessly bounced under the table. Midoriya kept his hands to himself and felt no need to feel for his friend's heartbeat. 

However one of your more boisterous spirits, Monoma, had been noticeably withdrawn. Kouda’s rabbit—trained to detect and assist with anxiety—scrambled into his arms on numerous occasions. 

Your skin prickles, alerted to the weight of someone’s gaze on your back. Not a second later you hear the low call of your name. Aizawa slips into the chair opposite, disconcertingly silent in his approach, and leans his chin against his fist. 

“If you keep thinking so hard, All Might really is going to give himself a hernia,” he mutters. 

Yagi’s lighthearted chuckle devolves into a harsh spluttering cough. “Blunt as always, Aizawa-kun,” he jokes, voice muffled by his hand. 

“I’m not sure he could even get a hernia…” you muse, offering him a tissue. Yagi nods in thanks as he wipes the blood from his mouth. “I was thinking about the kids, that's all”. 

Aizawa tilts his head. The sun settles at her highest point and golden pleats stretch across his face. These are the rare instances that his artificial eye becomes observable. Light refracts in the iris, glittering crimson through graphene layers. 

“They’ve really taken a shine to you,” he says, and it comes like an accusation, softened by the slight jut to his lips. You smirk, shutting your bento box and setting it aside. How wonderfully petty. 

“Curious?” 

“Midoriya burst into class last week and asked Tokoyami if he had a twin that he ate in the womb,” he drawls, brow twitching. Yagi splutters. “So yes, I’m curious what it is you’re teaching my students”. 

A fleeting sense of exasperation comes over you. Trust Midoriya to abandon delicacy in his eagerness. “I assume it’s because we covered the genetics of chimerism and how it relates to quirk inheritance,” you say, bemused. Hopefully Tokoyami was not offended. It’s a wonder he didn’t ask Todoroki.

“And how does it?” Yagi blink owlishly as you turn to him in surprise. “I’m curious!” he defends. 

“Oh. Well, genetic chimerism is when an organism has multiple sets of DNA often originating from the fusion of different zygotes,” you recite. Instinctively, your posture straightens as though you were back in the classroom. “This can happen with twin embryos. One absorbs the other and as a result, they have two sets of DNA”. 

“O—oh…?”

“So,” you continue, fingers wrung together in your lap, turning to give him your full attention. Colour drains from the retired hero’s cheeks. “The question I presented was this: would it then be possible for the surviving twin to inherit an additional quirk?”

“I see,” Yagi swallows and his grin strains at the edges as he realises you are waiting for a genuine answer. “Ah, I’m not—”

The lunch bell abruptly begins to ring. You both startle in your seats. Unperturbed, Aizawa pushes to his feet. His hair falls forward as he sways in place and meets your gaze. “As interesting as this is, we need to get to gym gamma for basic heroics,” he says, tone laced with monotony. 

Yagi jumps at the chance to escape. You try not to laugh. He continues to nervously glance over his shoulder, worried that you might be disheartened, but you wave them off happily. 

Coworkers come and go throughout the afternoon. Kurose keeps you company during their free period, later joined by Yamada, who insisted on quizzing you about western rock music. With no classes left to teach you spend the remainder of your day planning quirk counselling sessions, printing worksheets and sending routine emails, headache persisting. 

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From: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  To: Kaminari.Denki@UAedu.jp  Subject: Reminder [High importance] Message: 

Good afternoon,

Please see the two files I have attached to this email. One has a highlighted version of the essay brief, and another detailing how to structure an essay. 

As I mentioned, I have booked a one to one session for us to go over your draft and any concerns next week on [x] September 13:00 — 14:00. However do not hesitate to email me with any questions you have before this date. 

Take care!

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After the final bell rings you linger a while, not wanting to be swept away in throngs of students making their way to the dorms. There are no stragglers as you leave and your footsteps reverberate unsettlingly throughout the main building. 

The sky bleeds into early dusk with disquieting rays of light. Gentle enough that you can look directly into the sun and see the canvas it paints. Standing in the middle of the walkway, balefully watching the far off horizon, the early autumn air makes you shiver. 

Living on campus was a big change. Even so you had little to complain about. The staff dormitories are larger and much more private. You’d been given a studio on the second floor, neighbour to Ishiyama, the rather withdrawn cement hero. While there is a bathroom and kitchenette in each apartment you usually preferred to cook in the shared kitchen, conjoined to an open plan common room. 

Another familiar face greets you as you enter. Powerloader is seated at the dining table, mulling over a mess of blueprints. Quirk science and quirk support often went hand in hand thus you had collaborated before, albeit very rarely. 

He lifts his head at your entrance, face obscured by long, spiked copper hair. Seeing him free of his big excavator helmet—much like with Kurose without their space suit—is still quite strange. “Hey, Maijima-san,” you skim over what looks to be a box buckle belt. “Working on anything interesting?”

“I’m designing an MMF induction system for Tetsutetsu in 2B,” he explained, sifting through the papers to show another preliminary sketch. You notice the ink stain on the heel of his hand. “I’m hoping with the belt and armbands acting as coils we could turn him into an electromagnet of sorts”. 

“Wow. That’s actually pretty cool. There are so many things he could do with that,” you mumbled. Flash bangs. Emergency power. Assisting in triage. The possibilities were endless. Awed, you lean forward to scrutinise the chicken scrawl dotted around the drawings, some characters smudged beyond your comprehension. “How do you plan to measure his tolerance to—?”

“Mochi?!” a small, giddy voice interrupts. 

“…Mochi?” you repeat, bewildered. You look toward the source, gaze falling upon two silvery pigtails. Eri rocks on her heels and excitedly holds out a curved plate full of rice cakes. The height draws her sweater sleeves down her thin, scarred forearms. She makes a droning noise to stress that you take one. 

Aizawa strolls out from the kitchen behind her. A dull clink accompanies his footsteps, slanted to one side. You immediately note the various colourful clips pinning his hair away from his face, tied into a similar pigtail style, though tousled and loose.

“Eri,” he rumbles. “It’s impolite to interrupt private conversations”. 

The little girl wilts a fraction as her expression pinches in worry. She lowers the plate, but before it is out of reach, Maijima stretches across the table to snatch one up. Eri brightens at the exaggerated happy sound he makes as he chews, “This is some good mochi, Eri-chan. I’ll forgive you this once”. 

“Thank you, Maijiji,” she chimes. At that Maijima’s jaw unhinges mid-chew, the corners of his mouth twitching in quiet shock. Aizawa’s nostrils flare. He turns his head from the scene. Similarly, you tuck your chin to conceal your smirk and pluck up a mochi for yourself. 

“These look delicious,” you tell her, diverting the topic from Maijima—who, in your periphery, is mouthing ‘old man?!’ toward Aizawa with some incredulity. Eri’s focus remains on your face. She watches intently as the sticky dough yields under your thumbs. 

You tear a piece away to eat. Softer, smoother on the inside. It begins to melt on your tongue. The red bean paste is sweet with earthy undertones. “Wow!” the exclamation comes warbled, muffled. Eri tugs at the hem of her pink knit sweater, her smile stretching wider. “You’re very kind for sharing these, Eri”. 

“Mhm. S’because Yama-san teached me a quote in English today,” she effuses proudly, “He said sharing is caring”. The foreign enunciation doesn’t quite fit, like the words are choppy in her mouth, but they fall easily from her lips as if she has practised them a hundred times.

“Taught,” Aizawa corrected, bending into view to take the plate from her hands and set it on the table. She blinks at him curiously, and he explains, “You should say ‘Yama-san taught me’, not teached”. 

“Oh,” she says. You watch fondly as he licks his thumb to wipe away a smear of bean paste on her chin. Her face scrunches up, lips pursed and air in her cheeks. 

“And now you’ve been taught a new word,” you add, pulling off a bigger piece of mochi. Eri bounces in place as you offer it to her and she shoves it into her mouth. “Thank you for the treat, Eri. I think I’ll enjoy this in my room”. 

“Ywor lea’win’?” 

Aizawa sighs and concedes defeat to her poor manners. He cradles the crown of her head with his palm, stroking her hair. “I’m a little tired so I really want to take a shower and get in my pyjamas,” you say, hoping to placate her with a smile. “But I’m sure I’ll see you again sometime tomorrow, okay?”

Eri concedes rather reluctantly. Her fondness for you, once a stranger from the yawning unknown, is warming. Though her dejection is short-lived, soon distracted by the late arrival of Yagi and Yamada. 

The soft hair on your neck prickles. Sensing his stare you meet Aizawa’s gaze, heavy enough to feel like touch. It stirs a fleeting sort of hope in your chest. He looks gentle, frame wrapped up in the gauzy evening lustre. You clear your throat, “Did heroics go well in the end?” 

His brow twitches and you get the distinct feeling that you’re being laughed at. “No broken bones. So I would say so,” he deadpanned. 

“If it were anyone else saying that I’d be concerned,” you smiled, knowing class 2A in particular was well renowned for incurring injuries in training. “It was their first one since… everything, right? I’m glad they’re doing okay”. 

He hums, eyes sliding toward his daughter when her laughter breaks the delicate quiet. You shift awkwardly where you stand, overly conscious of Maijima seated nearby, now engrossed in his work. Aizawa levelled his voice, “How’s the headache?” 

“Persistent,” you murmur. Acknowledging it invites another dull pang inside your skull. “Honestly I can’t wait to get in bed”. 

“Hear hear,” he breathes. The corner of his mouth curls as he looks at you and gravity vaults around your stomach, rendering you momentarily weightless. Just a crush, you think, half hysterical. “Get some rest. If you plan on missing dinner then take a jelly pouch or an energy bar with you”. 

Touched by his concern you sway toward the kitchen. Your teeth sink into your cheek, biting down a grin where he cannot see it. “Yeah, okay,” you laugh under your breath. Louder then, “But I’m going to take your favourite flavour”. 

“Don’t push your luck,” he dared. 

You retire to your apartment with a green jelly packet in hand and a clunky wave. Energy seeps out of you like water through a sieve as soon as your door shuts. Fatigue creeps in; the body needing rest yet the mind restless. 

The shower does little to shake you awake. Dragging your feet to your bedroom, pouch uncapped and held between your lips. Tepid air sticks to still damp skin. Your bed yields, thoughts slowing. You crawl across the mattress, cheeks hollow as you lazily suck the jelly until the foil wrinkles. 

Cocooned in plush fleece and linen, you tilt your head and let it loll against the pillow; exhaustion sweeps through you, consciousness waning. The ache behind your eyes lessens as they close. You sleep. 

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From: Kaminari.Denki@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: RE: Reminder [High importance] Message: 

Hi hi

The worksheets really helped!!! You’re the best, Sensei!

I was talking to Mido and he said some ppl think quirks are a genetic mutation from a disease spread by rats?? ? (◎-◎;) super freaky. Can I make that my essay topic? 

Thnx!

Kaminari Denki AKA ⚡️ CHARGEBOLT

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From: Midoriya.Izuku@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp Subject: An analysis of the Q-gene theory Message:

Sorry to email so late! Or early haha… I found some articles while I was researching that I think will be helpful to my essay but the journal is not open access. Is there any way that I cannnnnnnnvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvccccccccccccccvvvvvvccccccccccccccccvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Sent from my ePhone 

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Morning comes abruptly. The sound of your alarm cuts out as you stretch across the bed to hit snooze, limbless and heavy handed. You rise with a crick in your neck. Barely cognisant, the floor rises to meet you, cool against the soles of your feet. 

A mottle of pale blue and white blended into a grey low lit morning, flooding the common area. It’s no surprise to you that people are already awake. Snipe is seated on the couch meticulously cleaning his pistol while Kurose is clad in their gym wear, jogging in place where they wait for Yagi to zip up his jacket. 

Upright, he beams at the sight of you, “Good morning! You look much better today”. 

You do not feel much better. 

“Morning,” you return lightly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Snipe tips his hat in your direction with a quiet grunt. “Are the others still asleep?” 

The drooping blonde hair that frame’s Yagi’s face sway as he shakes his head. “Not everyone. I believe Yamada-kun is at his radio station. Ectoplasm is out walking the perimeter with Hound Dog. Though Aizawa-kun may be sleeping…”

“He got back from night patrol a few hours ago,” Kurose adds. They wave both hands at you, spacetime wielding fingers wiggling as though to entice you, “That aside, would you like to join us on our morning run?” 

Your expression immediately shifts, exhibiting strong disinclination. “I appreciate the invite, but I’d rather return to a horizontal position until my work hours start”. 

Kurose laughs warmly. Yagi, however, insists on reciting the benefits to early exercise while he ties and reties his shoes. You send them off, holding the door open to breathe in the morning dew, and spend a minute feeling the cool air prickle your cheeks. 

The day crawls on. You get to your classroom before the first period and review the lesson plans. The third years stagger to their seats. You can sympathise with their dead eyed stares—two hours of quirk regulation law is not exactly the most riveting topic—and take no offense to their spiritless attitudes. 

Third period is spent fostering discussion about politics with the business students. By the time lunch hour comes and goes you have barely left your classroom. Your next set is composed of first year hero students. This academic year both class 1A and B had been mixed into the same group. Hardly six months after a war steeped in blood and sacrifice, Japan’s citizens were not so eager to hand their children over to a hero school. Thus there were few applicants. Nevertheless, Principal Nedzu remained optimistic about their potential. 

Straight away you understood his judgement. In covering the quirk history module you saw first hand their iron willed determination to learn from the past and change the system. Hands are thrown high in the air—eager despite your intention to wind down—as you inquire their thoughts about the quirk classification system. 

“The whole thing is bull—brainless!” one of your more headstrong students, Higuchi, calls out. You can picture the lurid glare behind his blacked out glasses. His classmates murmur in agreement. 

“He’s right, Sensei,” Kaneko, 1B class president, adds quietly. The air distorts around her when she speaks and your jaw clenches, withholding a flinch as your ear pops. “Why are there only three categories? It makes no sense”. 

“I agree. The classification system is simplistic and outdated. Which is what leads me into my final question…” you hold out your hands in mock surrender, brows pointedly arched, and they settle down. In that instant, the door slides open and disrupts the peace. Every head turns to watch Eraserhead slip brazenly into the classroom, and after a pregnant pause, gesture for you to continue. 

Heat rises to the high point of your cheeks. His expression is soft in the artificial light, fixed on you with intent and sincere intrigue. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.  “Ah—What was I saying?” you joked nervously. Sensing your embarrassment the kids begin to laugh under their breath. “That’s right. My question is, if possible, what are some of the categories you would introduce to improve the quirk database? Brainstorm for me. There are no wrong answers!” 

Those eyes nag at you for the remainder of the hour. With another teacher present, heralded as a war hero no less, the motivation to impress increases tenfold. You bullet point their answers on the class board, prompting further explanation or examples and suggesting your own. It’s a welcome distraction—

And the outcome is far more comprehensive than you expected:

Generation describes quirks that allow the individual to create something from their body. Example: Creati. 

Manipulation refers to quirks that control what is pre existing. Example: Poltergeist. 

Users with a Transmutation quirk can change or alter the function of things around them. Example: Mudman.

Augmentation quirks allow the individual to improve their own body in some way. Example: Mount Lady. 

Information quirks classify those that can detect, understand and apply information. Example: Nighteye.

You watch them rush to scribble the list down. Murmurings carry through the classroom as they turn to one another, listing more examples, giving thought to how each quirk should be designated. Pride swells in your chest. 

“I have a question”.

Aizawa remained hunched in the corner, one hand deep in his pocket. The other is raised lazily above his head. This elicits some anticipation from your students. You motion for him to continue, “Yes, Aizawa-sensei?”

“Erasure is listed as ‘Emitter’ in the quirk database. This means I share a category with quirks which are fundamentally different, such as Hellflame,” he speaks with a calm, assertive cadence that holds the kids' attention. His gaze sweeps across the class and they squirm. “Tell me, what would you categorise my quirk as to draw that distinction?”

The long silence is contemplative rather than daunting. Higuchi fakes a cough. He lifts his fist, fingers unfurling as his wrist then falls limp, feigning indifference. It was made no secret that he admired Eraserhead, given their shared ocular abilities. Allure was a powerful quirk. Persuaded with a single glance, inhibited only by the specialised lenses in his glasses. 

Thus you recognise the attitude change for what it is—a preemptive measure in the case that he slips in front of the man he admires. “Higuchi,” you warmly addressed. Aizawa centres his attention on the boy. “Do you have a suggestion for Aizawa-sensei?”

“Y—yeah,” he says. “I thought we could add something like ‘Condition’ to the list…?”

“Can you elaborate on that?” you try to encourage. Aizawa’s posture shifts, his interest piqued. 

“I was just thinking, Erasure doesn’t fit any of the shi—stuff we thought up,” Higuchi continues, his fingers knotted tight on the desk, knuckles white. “Condition would cover people whose quirks enforce a condition on others. Like an infatuation quirk or—or my own quirk”.

Everybody is seemingly waiting with bated breath. You glance back at Aizawa, now carefully regarding Higuchi. You know that look. “Not bad, kid,” he nods, quietly pleased. Higuchi grins. 

Smiling, you move to add ‘Condition’ to the list. 

You’re on edge after the bell rings. Aizawa’s presence brushes you like a breath of balmy air, biding his time while you send off your class, grunting in response to those who bow in his direction. When you finally turn his half lidded gaze is mellowed. 

“So,” you begin clumsily. “Is there any particular reason why you interrupted my lesson?” 

Aizawa hums. A sound so deep, so supple you want to lean into it. “I have a favour to ask. Is the rest of your afternoon free?” 

“The Eraserhead asking me a favour?” you tease, needlessly lining up your stationary before collecting your things. “I’ve got no more classes to teach, if that’s what you mean. Why?”

“All Might can’t assist supervising heroics training this afternoon,” he mutters, examining your display boards with absentminded curiosity. 

“You need to give me more than that, Aizawa”. 

He exhales, mouth pressed thin, ducking into his capture weapon. You see a shift in expression, the skin of his cheeks drawing up to crinkle around his eyes. The petulance brings a smirk to your lips. Aizawa had been mildly avoidant and emotionally reserved from the moment you met him, but for someone so motivated by logic he seemed to expect you to read his mind lately. 

“Two people are required to oversee the class”

“And you want that second person to be me?”

“If you’re going to be difficult I can ask Thirteen,” he replies dryly. The tip of his tongue wets his bottom lip, tempting your gaze. You feel yourself consciously resisting. 

The empty threat hangs lightly in the room. Your smirk gentles into a smile. He tracks your movement, standing aside while you tuck in the desk chair. “No, no. I’ll come,” you demurred. “I want to help. Let’s go”. 

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From: Shinsou.Hitoshi@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: — Message: 

Hisorrywoulditbepossibletogetanextensiononmyessay?Myspacebarisbroken. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

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From blue rafters to monochrome stone, the arched structure of Gym Gamma comes into view. Towers over you as you approach. Aizawa’s footsteps are purposeful and his legs carry him forward with a lumbering gait. You’ve changed into shoes befitting the outdoors—a pair of boots that hug your calves tight and keep your ankles warm as the afternoon wanes toward an inevitable cold evening. 

“The students participating today have been previously cleared for training in a controlled environment by their psychiatrist,” Aizawa says, breathing slightly visible in the autumn chill. His hands are buried deep in his capture weapon. “First they’ll start by sparring without quirks to warm up. If I see no risk they can then move on to using quirks”.

Allowing the kids to train again had been a sensitive matter. Not a single hero student came out the war unscathed; the first years especially, given the proximity to AFO, were dealt extensive physical and psychological trauma—a handful even undergoing  forced quirk awakening. Throwing them back into a battle environment, controlled or otherwise, needed to be handled with care. 

Aizawa did just that, and to your knowledge he always had. He exercised caution with his students. Even if it came across as harsh. Even if the chances of danger were nil. He was staunchly protective of his brood. You understood that to be the reason why their parents trusted him to lead them forward—

And you hoped it meant he would be open to your advice throughout the training. 

Your head bobs, nodding in acknowledgment. “During the latter half of the session, if I see signs of a student in distress—?”

“Inform me,” he cuts in firmly. A flash of crimson pools into his irises, gone between blinks, and you’re left to wonder if it was just a trick of the light. “I’ll erase their quirks and stop the spar before it escalates”. 

You ponder that as Aizawa shields his eyes and scans the beyond when a chorus of voices reaches your ears. An amalgamation of 2A and 2B are waiting by the gym doors, with the few that recognise you excitedly waving their arms and calling your name. 

“Understood,” a small smile pulls at your lips. You wave toward the group, donned in their UA tracksuits. “You’re the boss”. 

Iida graciously bids you both welcome, his hand chopping through the air as he speaks over the others and attempts to assuage them. Questions of All Might’s whereabouts are few and far, instead entirely focused on your unexpected presence—all the more surprising that Midoriya visibly brightens, unaffected by his mentor’s absence. 

You allow Aizawa to take the wheel while he makes introductions, rocking idly on your feet, nodding along when prompted. “I’m sure some of you are well acquainted, whether it be through individual quirk consultations or taking quirk science as your chosen elective…”

Yaoyorozu is poised beside a fellow student, Jirou, arms crossed over her midriff. Fingers wiggle by the crook of her elbow in another subtle wave, smile gracing her lips. Bakugo catches the movement and his eyes flicker in your direction. He acknowledges you with a short nod.

“Today is not about analysing the progression of your quirks. We will be observing how you apply them,” he continues. There’s a fleeting emphasis to his voice. It carries an underlying warning, the same way a parent might quietly reprimand a child. The class visibly stands straighter and Midoriya raises his hand. 

Aizawa exhales, a fond sort of exasperation shining through, “…Midoriya”.

“Will we receive individual feedback?” Midoriya eagerly questioned. “And can we get Sensei’s opinion on our own ideas? Because—!”

“Kid,” Aizawa drawls. Colour paints Midoriya’s face pink but he seems bashful rather than ashamed. “Once we move onto sparring with quirks, yes, you will be notified of anything we deem significant. After class”. 

Bakugo, Monoma, Shinsou, Tetsutetsu and Midoriya appear particularly motivated by this. You clear your throat, gaze sliding to Aizawa as you add, “And anyone seeking my opinion or reassurance is free to email me. We can set up a meeting. That’s what I’m here for, after all”.  

The hour wore on. Aizawa was happy to watch in comfortable silence, offering up any thoughts and observations as they passed. There’s a clear sense of pride about him. A softness. Comfortable showing it now he’s a distance from the prying eyes of his students.

Hand-to-hand warm ups progress to quirk use. Some have formed small battle royale type groups while the others chose to pair up. You scan the gym with a keen eye. The quick streak of Midoriya’s red sneakers as his left foot pivots on the mats catches your attention. His opponent, Todoroki, falls into a balanced stance. 

You watch their fight unfold. The intensity swells. Dread prickles down your spine. “Aizawa…” you cautioned. 

Green lightning pulses. One For All activates. A metallic taste sticks to the roof of your mouth. Midoriya’s body twists, and with it his right foot swings up in a singular, upward path. It cleaves through the air, a slice more than it is a swing, and the force lands squarely on the side of Todoroki’s skull—or it would have, if he hadn’t blocked it with his arm, encased in ice. 

There’s a split second in which everything stops. An immense, charged force bore down on your lungs. Your vision blurred. As quick as it came the lightning died out and a deluge of shattered ice fell to the ground. 

“Ouch,” Todoroki says, cradling his wrist. You think that probably doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Aizawa sprinted across the room without ceremony, his hair hung high in suspension and ready to step in. Todoroki interjects first. Presumably to defend his friend and assure them both that he’s fine. While Aizawa scans his forearm for any sign of major injury you watch Midoriya return to himself. Colour drains from his face. Chest heaving. There’s a violent tremor in his legs.  Between rapid blinks you hear the crack in his mumbled apologies. 

Aizawa settles a gentle hand on his shoulder. The rest of the students return to their matches, save for a select few who spare Midoriya a concerned glance—nevertheless, nobody is truly surprised. You can only wonder how often this happens. 

Midoriya broke himself for the sake of others more times than you could stomach, and you’ve been witness to how uniquely adept he is at hiding those splintered parts first hand. With the wound still so fresh, people needed the courageous, forthright, spirited version of him, the one with the beaming smile and the promise of safety. At only sixteen years old that is already his delegated role in life. 

There are not enough words to depict just how catastrophic the war had been. You suffered heart-wounds of your own but in facing the sacrifice these children gave you felt a contrite, shameful hole in your consciousness. This is victory; the only one on the table, and it is painful.

While Aizawa calms Midoriya, your focus returns to the rest of the class. Tetsutetsu is holding his own against Iida. Kuroiro is half steeped in shadow, reflexively sinking into his quirk as he wards off Bakugo’s punches. You note that Kaminari is unsteady on his feet, having already discharged too much electricity. 

Something about Monoma’s hesitance also holds your attention. Of the abilities he’s used there has only been four. Odd, given his ability to hold five at a time, and the plethora of quirks surrounding him. 

You chew your lip and it occurs to you that he must be keeping one on reserve from prior to the lesson. The next thought comes unbidden, inhaling sharply as a sudden, cold sort of clarity slides through you. 

The only quirk you imagine Monoma could still be intentionally holding onto is the one he took during the fight against AFO. Erasure. 

“What’re you thinking?”

You shake out of your stupor and find Aizawa closer than expected. Somewhere in between he had tied his hair up. He tucks a wayward strand behind his ear, eyes squinted and wrinkling the scar tissue high on his cheek. “What?” you ask dumbly. 

“You went somewhere,” he clarifies. You feel his knuckles lightly knock your temple. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Ah,” you smile, abashed, and rub the spot of skin he touched. “Just making mental notes. I wish I had brought something to write with”.

“Well?” Aizawa says, as though his silence was enough of an invitation. “Tell me about them”. 

“It’s obvious the student’s have made incredible progress when compared to their first year quirk assessments. But there are some minor adjustments that I think will help considerably…”

You go on to list ideas for development and support tech. Things like regularly involving parkour into all their training routines. Or having Iida request smaller engines along the front legs of his costume for faster braking, or sharper turns. Or experimenting with Mina’s quirk, testing how precise her control is over her acid’s viscosity and if she could potentially create gaseous forms.

Your awareness wanes periodically, pausing open mouthed to discern the skill of each group, weighing your thoughts. To his credit Aizawa does listen to you ramble, mellowing the longer you speak. Tension seeps from his shoulders as though pulled down by gravity and that look of contentment returns. 

“In terms of wielding their quirk the one I’m most concerned about is probably Kaminari,” you hesitate, chewing your lip as your voice lowers. “I believe he still views his quirk as a final move”.

Aizawa leans forward, attentive to your opinion, and hums. The dulcet melody is warm by your ear—

You become conscious of his proximity. The air retains his heat, the indistinct woodsy notes that always clung to his clothes. 

—and your throat constricts as you swallow.

“Because of that he immediately jumps from zero to one hundred. I’ve seen his files. It results in mild cranial nerve lesions which then induces temporary impairment mid battle,” you continue soberly, staring ahead with lips stretched into strained assurance as some of the students begin to notice your proximity. 

Monoma strikes the back of Tetsutetsu’s leg as he makes a suggestive gesture, making him collapse on one knee. You close your eyes as embarrassment floods your body, “I have to wonder if he ever worked with a quirk counsellor in the first place”. 

Aizawa signals his agreement and moves back a fraction. His expression remained unchanged. He is by no means an unfeeling man, but you can’t help being jealous about how unshaken he is. All the while you probably look like a spring bouquet. 

“So, how do you suggest we help him?” 

His genuine countenance tempered your short lived frustration, and the word ‘we’ echoed in your mind. You knew what he meant, but it still brought a pleasant flutter to your chest. “I think we should start by having support give him a multimeter,” you reply. “Atleast that way we can discern the point that he begins to lose cognition and work upwards from there”. 

“Alright. I’ll ask Maijima-san once we’re done here,” he nods. There is a tentative pause. “Anything else you think needs to be addressed?” 

“There is…Monoma,” you add. His head turns in your peripheral vision, visibly taken aback. 

“Monoma?” he repeated. 

“This is just speculation on my part,” you grimace, sparing a glance toward the students. As the session winds down they’ve gathered in the centre of the mats, talking to one another. “But I have a hunch that he might still be holding onto your quirk”.

Aizawa’s face becomes pinched. The apparent frustration grows as his expression shifts. Mouth twisting, jaw moving with gritted teeth. “I should’ve noticed,” he mutters. 

“Monoma is primarily in Kan-san’s care, not yours. If anything he should be the one to notice,” you say, subtly detailing his side profile as he continues to observe his class. “Between the media circus, your physiotherapy, teaching and being a father—you can hardly blame yourself”. 

The bridge of his nose wrinkles at that. “Shit, sorry. Did I overstep?” you fret. 

Aizawa’s expression smooths out, reluctantly. He exhales. “No. I’m just not used to the idea of being a parent, I suppose”. 

“Guardian, then,” you amended with a flippant wave, hoping to lighten the sullen atmosphere. “Though I guess teaching is like a sub-branch of parenting in itself”. 

“How so?”

“Good or bad, a teacher plays a big part in shaping a child, right?” For a strange, short moment, you’re hyper aware of how closely he watches you as you speak, and you deal with it by finding great interest in the gym floor. “Y’know. Their self confidence, beliefs and ambitions… didn’t you have anyone like that?” 

That gives him pause, and while he thinks you drink in the line of his jaw, angular and shadowed by stubble, the wispy strands framing his face as his haphazard ponytail slowly loosens, and the faint crease formed across the bridge of his nose after grimacing so frequently. 

Aizawa’s brow arches. Caught, you quickly cast your gaze to the gym floor. “Well. There is the man that made me realise I wanted to go underground,” he says, graciously ignoring your ogling. “His purple highness”.

“His purple highness?!” you echo, voice clamouring through the now quieted din, diverting the students attention from their post training stretches. “Fuck, sorry. Of all the heroes I wasn’t expecting you to say him”. 

Nakaoji Tenma, now retired hero ‘His purple highness’, was the polar opposite of Aizawa. Widely renowned for flamboyance and theatrics, his notorious vibrant two piece suit and frilly open chested jacket sporting vibrant epaulettes on each shoulder was particularly unforgettable. 

“You wouldn’t be the first. I thought Nemuri was absurd for recommending Oboro and I during her work study,” he reminisced. 

“Surely it wasn’t that bad”.

Aizawa cracks a rueful grin. “His highness quickly recognised that I would have poor media presence and tried to teach me ‘how to smile’ properly. As you can see, it didn’t work out”.

You weren’t so sure. Aizawa’s amusement always started behind his eyes, a mirth that flashed across a grey midwinter and trickled into his chest to create a brief, reserved huff of laughter; though you sense underlying melancholy as he recounts his internship and lost loved ones, his smile still curled sincerely at the edges. 

“I don’t know. I like your smile. Even if it can be a little…”

“Disturbing?” 

“Disarming,” you return, nudging his side. Without intention your fingers brushed against the rough skin of his knuckles, fine hairs prickling—and then a sudden, shrill whistle cuts suggestively through the mood, shattering it. 

Kaminari stands proud a few feet ahead of his snickering classmates, lips closed around his middle fingers. Aizawa rolls his neck with an indignant sigh. The joint clicks. He raises his voice and impassively announces, “For that you can all do ten laps”.

A chorus of objections fills the gym. One by one, the students drag their feet toward the outer edge and break into a jog. You bite back a smile, “You’re awful”. 

“Never claimed not to be,” he tells you. “All Might has another hospital appointment at the end of next week, if you want to join us again”. 

A nascent fondness unfurls in your chest. “Sure,” you murmur. “I’d like that”. 

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From: Aizawa.Shouta@UAedu.jp To: Maijima.Higari@UAedu.jp Cc: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp Subject: Request [High importance] Message:

Our resident quirk scientist has advised us to provide Kaminari Denki [ID: 16XXXX] with a multimeter to assist in his training. Do we have one on campus or am I going to have to do more paperwork?

Aizawa Shouta 2A Homeroom Teacher, UA High School Private number: +81 (03) 1234-5678 Do not call unless you are dying. 

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From: Yagi.Toshinori@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: An email is here! Message: 

My friend,

Young Midoriya informed me that you took my place alongside Eraserhead in training this afternoon. He found your input very impressive, and even expressed the desire to have you look over his notebooks. That is quite the privilege! Ah, but please don’t tell him I told you that…!!!

Thank you for your hard work today. I will see you at dinner.

Yagi Toshinori Heroics Department, UA High School └（★ｏ★）┐ 𝓹𝐥𝔲ｓ Ǘ𝐋ⓣ𝔯𝓐 ┌（★ｏ★）┘

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Something indiscernible has since shifted. 

The work week is long, and when you crawl your way out of the mire of trepidation that decidedly hung over you, the source becomes clearer. 

The kids are being weird. 

Heroes in training, absolutely, but masters in subtlety they are not. Less than innocent, mischievous whispers would reach your ears, and silhouettes duck behind the nearest corner whenever you look back. Above all else they’ve taken to closely observing your interactions with Aizawa—sometimes going as far as forcing them. Kaminari even deems it appropriate to be nosey about your love life—or rather, your lack thereof—during your supplementary one-to-one. 

“That is not your business nor is it relevant to your essay,” you told him, tapping the end of your marker against the desk. The gentle reprimand did nothing to placate him. Scratching his cheek, Kaminari simply laughed and returned to reading the annotations you’d left on his work. 

Aizawa doesn’t bat an eye to any of it. While he presented himself as an extremely private man with clear boundaries drawn between home and work, it was obvious to you that that line had been trampled. He was accustomed to their harmless meddling. 

“Believe me. It’s worse if you tell them to stop,” he said, as if they were toddlers and would eventually tire themselves out.  

You have the pleasure of teaching their final class that Friday. If you’re lucky, come Monday they’ll have forgotten whatever it is they’re hatching.

Their focus wanes with the hour, your lesson structure a little looser to lead them into the weekend. Eri had joined unexpectedly, hidden behind Midoriya’s legs and teetering on her tiptoes to peek around the room. Kouda let’s Yuwai-chan rest in her arms as she sits on her very own chair beside Shinsou, mumbling small delights. 

“Focus, guys. We all have something called a Plus Alpha Mechanism in our DNA…”

Your pen glides along the board. The quiet repetitive sound of Bakugo’s tangle fidget matches your meridian rhythm, and you could almost forget the nonsense that has shadowed you since the training session. 

“…Here. The simplest way to think of it is like this,” following along with a finger, you read the written equation. “For example, if somebody has a tail—”

“Like Ojiro-kun!” Midoriya chirps. Bakugo gives him a sidelong glare, and his cheeks fill with air. 

“Correct, Midoriya,” you smile at his sheepishness. Your finger moves along to the latter half of the equation, “But the mechanism to move and wield his tail comes from the Plus Alpha. Added together, this forms the Quirk Factor”. 

“Sensei, is it then possible that quirklessness can occur when the Plus Alpha gene expression is not activated?” Iida inquires. Midoriya’s pencil stutters. 

“That’s right,” you flash him an encouraging smile, wider as he preens. Bakugo’s hands, too, have notably faltered, the tangle fidget balled up into a knot. “It’s a popular explanation amongst fourth gen members of the medical community. Older generations tend to prefer the whole archaic toe joint theory—but I don’t have time to cover that today”. 

Midoriya and Bakugo exhale in tandem. Monoma observes their behaviour closely, chin cupped in his palm. He seems well rested which alleviates the heaviness in your chest a fraction. You hope Aizawa has had the chance to speak with him. 

“Any other questions before I start to wrap up?”

Shinsou goes to raise his hand, stopping midway. Your brow arches and he indicates to wait. You watch on as he leans down to whisper something to Eri. Her doe-eyed gaze snaps from Yuwai-chan to his face, meeting an expression apologetically soft. And whatever it is he says, she pats his cheek in response. 

Sufficiently reassured, Shinsou once again raises his hand above his head. And as he relays his question a sober atmosphere befalls the class. 

In a roundabout manner—and refusing to name him—Shinsou asks about the Quirk erasing bullets used in the Shie Hassaikai case. You, like him, immediately seek Eri’s permission to speak on it. She gathers Yuwai-chan closer and nods. 

“Despite the name, the quirk erasing bullets did not technically erase any individuals quirk genes. They were engineered to directly attack the Plus Alpha,” the tip of your pen squeaks as you write out the words below the previous equation, underlining them twice. “Therefore the quirk could no longer be activated, making them functionally quirkless”. 

Shinsou accepts this, cheek sunken where he chews the flesh. Between blinks the pensive downturn to his mouth begins to curl into a faint smirk. “What about Aizawa-sensei’s quirk?” he asks, feigning innocence.

Your benevolence tapers as the class titters. Eri giggles, muffled by Yuwai-chan’s fur, and her shoulders hunch to hide in the little neck she has. 

“While I understand why you might conflate the two, Aizawa-sensei’s ocular quirk, Erasure, deactivates the Plus Alpha temporarily,” you answer at the end of a short sigh, taking a step back to lean against the wall. You skim the room with a pointed look, “As I’m sure you have all experienced first hand”. 

A few shudder at that. The whiplash of having the connection to your quirk severed must be alarming. You imagine it’s not something one can ever get used to. 

“Oc-u-lar?” Eri repeats. You feel your expression gentle as you meet her curious gaze. 

“Ocular means it’s connected to his eyes,” you explain simply, pointing to your own. “That is why his left eye glows red when he uses his quirk. Cool, right?” 

Accepting this, Eri’s cheeks swell with her smile and she chirps in agreement, “I like his eyes. They’re pretty”. 

“She likes his eyes,” Kaminari repeats with a faux-solemn nod. “Do you think so too, Sensei?” 

Iida sits ramrod straight in his seat. The abrupt jolt knocks his glasses halfway down his nose, “That is hardly appropriate for the classroom!” 

The electric blonde waves in surrender, “It’s just an innocent question, Prez! Not like I asked if he was United States of sma—”

“Kaminari-kun!”

Something snaps. Yuwai-chan yips. A litany of orange curved pieces spray across the table. Bakugo slumps, wearing a scowl dark enough to silence the chaos, debris from the broken fidget between his fingers. “Who gives a fu—” he spares Eri a quick glance and releases a long, deliberate exhale. “Who cares. Bunch’a nosey losers”  

Worry paints Momo’s features. Somewhat uncharacteristic of her, she readily rolls up her sleeve to offer the creation of another tangle. “Bakugo-kun, do you need me to…?”

“Don’t worry, Yaoyorozu-san!” Midoriya interrupts with a sunny complexion. He lumbers his backpack into his lap, zips it open and pulls out an identical fidget. “Kacchan breaks them a lot”.

You stifle the urge to groan into your hands, or gather them all into an uncomfortably strong hug, or both. For as much as you could tease Aizawa for allowing the students to bulldoze through his work-life boundaries it is becoming clear you're just as guilty. 

Bakugo lingers after the bell rings. The others file out, some with apologetic smiles, and neither of you speak until the classroom is empty. “Is everything okay, Bakugo?” you ask lightly. 

He itches his neck. Shoulder jerking as he shrugs, giving a stiff nod. Looking a little frayed around the edges, Bakugo mutters, “Sorry about the mess. M’staying to pick it up”. 

“That’s not necessary,” you objected. A slight pout works its way onto his lips. You know well enough that for all his posturing, Bakugo respects the word of his teachers. “I assure you it’s fine, Bakugo. But I really appreciate the sentiment”.

“Whatever,” he says, barely above a mumble. He shoves his hands into his pants pockets and motions to leave. “See ya Monday, Sensei”.

“Take care, Bakugo,” you call after him. Your ears latch onto the leaden echoing of footsteps until they disappear down the hallway. Silence creeps in while you pick up the small curved pieces.  The little moment of peace you had sought all week does not arrive. There are still emails to attend to, assignments to mark and future lessons to structure—

Your stomach rumbles and interrupts that thought. Again, evermore persistent while you attempt to ignore it. Eventually you dump the collected orange pieces into your desk drawer and make for the staff lounge, switching off the lights as you go. 

All Might and Present Mic are the only two in the room. Yamada spots you first. He’s yet to remove his costume, and the leather sleeves creak as he lifts his arms, waving loosely. Yagi spins on his axis for the source of the fuss. There’s a spoon in his mouth, and his lips stretch into a smile around it. 

A smile that dims as soon as you land in your chair with a heavy sigh. “I feel that,” Yamada says. His comically tall hair reaches high above your computer monitor, face peering over the frame. “Kiddos run you ragged today?” 

“I don’t know how they do it. It’s not like we’re sparring,” you snort lightly and rest your chin against your hand. The muted scent of Yagi’s greek yoghurt lingers in the air. You wrinkle your nose, “Have either of you noticed them behaving…oddly? I feel like they’ve been scheming”. 

Yagi pauses mid scoop, bewildered. He looks from you to Yamada, who appears infuriatingly in the know. “Odd?” he asks. The shadows around his eyes darken in concern. “Is there anything we should be looking out for?” 

“I wonder,” Yamada titters, tapping a finger against his nose. Green eyes smile at you over the top of his tinted lenses. “Could it have anything to do with Mina asking me about your blood type?”

“Blood type? Whatever for?” 

Covering his mouth, Yamada bends and covers his mouth, amplifying his cryptic whisper, “Romantic compatibility”.

Chewing your inner cheek, you shake your head and insist, “It’s just a popular theory about personality types from the pre quirk era”. Yagi’s expression clears. He accepts the explanation easily. You wished it were that simple. “I’m sure it’s nothing…” your attention wavers as you notice movement out the window. 

A distant black figure grows larger the closer it gets. Eraserhead is coming back from his afternoon patrol. He sweeps up onto the roof of a nearby building and dashes along the eaves before leaping off again. His capture weapon lassos the adjacent dormitory building and he swings in a perfect arc that vaults him upwards. The movements flow into one another naturally, without thought, nimble as he twists through the air. You can’t take your eyes off him. 

“No, you’re right. It’s definitely nothing,” Yamada quips lightly, his voice drawing you to the present. The implication behind his tone rings loud and clear and it shakes you from your reverie. 

Embarrassment sours your expression; it feels like you’ve swallowed the sun. “It’s not like that,” you insist, laughing nervously. Your gaze settles on a heart sticker Eri pasted on the desk. An old coffee stain has blurred the colour, cheap ink smeared into the wood. Your fingers come away stained pink. 

“Young love is exciting! There’s no shame in it. You can be honest with us. With me,” Yagi’s large hand comes down on your shoulder to give a reassuring pat. “I may be old but I’m not that dense. I think”. 

“You’re hardly old, Yagi-san. You’re only fifty”.

Yagi chuckles in that signature All Might fashion, a blush glowing bright on his cheekbones. “Thank you. But that is beside the point,” he says. The laughter mellows into a contemplative hum and you fidget while he watches you closely, warmly, “…It’s just, Aizawa seems a bit more alive when you’re around”. 

Yamada leans forward to rest his chin in his palms, held open like a flower in bloom, and murmurs his agreement. 

“What…do you mean exactly?” you ask. 

Yagi exhales, wringing battle worn hands in his lap. “He has been through a lot,” he begins. “Of course we all have but as I’m sure young Yamada here can attest, Aizawa shoulders more responsibility than he needs to”. 

“Lotta unnecessary blame, too,” Yamada nods. A bittersweet tone pervades the air. “Always has, ever since we were kids. Reckon that’s why he doesn’t sleep”.

“See, there’s the kind of exhaustion that usually just requires a good night’s sleep,” Yagi’s face is sallow, and his gaze flickers to Aizawa’s empty desk. “But there is also another kind that asks much more—and I see that in Aizawa. Like he’s wearing a heavy coat that became heavy bones”.

Despite the clumsy metaphor you feel his words weighing on your heart, notably shared in a way that makes you think that he, too, wore a similar heavy coat of blame. And you thought: such is grief. 

“But!” Yagi suddenly blurts, restoring his former enthusiasm. “Since you started here it’s like…” he gesticulates with his hands then, searching for the right thing to say, stalling as seemingly he does not find it. “All that is to say Aizawa has a fondness for you and I think you should go for it!”

Self conscious, you pick at the skin around your thumb. Yagi’s encouragement was appreciated. With the quintessential All Might optimism unintentionally bleeding through it almost felt like you could do anything. But your head shakes and you laugh breathlessly at the thought, “You’re actually quite a gossip, aren’t you, Yagi-san?”

Yamada’s cackle reverberates around the lounge as Yagi splutters his shock into a tissue. You pat his shoulder. Pressing your lips thin you try not to smirk. 

“What are you doing?” 

Simultaneously, the three of you freeze, voices converging the instant you three blurt, “Nothing!” 

Aizawa frowns, displeasure framed by windswept hair tousled in all directions. He loiters in the open doorway a moment longer and his scrutiny pervades the air. You tightly cross your ankles under the legs of your chair and maintain an innocent look. 

Feigning obliviousness Yagi attempts to redirect the subject, “Did anything interesting happen on patrol, Aizawa-kun?”

Ultimately, Aizawa let it go. He shut the door behind him and the tension slipped from his shoulders as he shrugged and accepted the deflection. “Nothing significant. A bit busier than usual,” he replies.  “Seems like the commercial district has finished being rebuilt”.

Your heart beats and blood rushes to the tips of your fingers—dark eyes do not leave you as Aizawa slinks past to the kitchenette, taking with him a brush of cool fresh air. Yamada ducks between the computer monitors. Mouth puckered, he begins making an exaggerated kissing face at you. Oscillating between flustered and irritated, you reach for the nearest thing and throw it. A pencil bounces off his forehead, clattering to the floor, and he yelps. 

Aizawa returns holding two nutritional jelly pouches. “I don’t doubt you deserved that,” he comments, blasé as he passes you one of the colourful packets unprompted. It takes great effort not to gawk at his fingerless gloves, the once buttery leather now weathered. 

“Wow. Where’d my best friend go?” Yamada laments. He makes a dramatic show of the betrayal, long limbs sagging across his desk. “And no jelly for me, either. For shame! What happened to brothers before lovers?” 

Twisting off the cap to the pouch with his teeth, Aizawa sucks out the gelatinous innards until the plastic flattens. A smile plays on his lips as you stifle your amusement. “Hizashi, you know I flunked English,” he deadpans. 

The voice hero deflates. He turns to wave the previously thrown pencil at you, “Here. You left this knife in my back”. 

“You’re ridiculous”. 

“Et tu, Brute?”

The interaction does nothing to ruffle Aizawa. Like water to a duck's back. He merely saunters over to his desk, discards the empty pouch in the small bin beside his chair, and scoops up a thick binder of papers.  

“And now he flees,” Yamada pouts, holding the pencil between his top lip and his nose. 

“No, I need to wash up,” he dismisses Yamada and indicates toward his prosthesis, then dryly adding, “And I’m not sticking around to listen to you recite Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar simply because I didn’t bring you a jelly pouch”.

“Aw. That’s cold, Sho”. 

You bask in their back and forth. A friendship built on open hearts and feet that bleed. They share jabs, opinions and hardships without worry because there’s unequivocal trust there. Watching them together unearths a fraction of envy; stuck between wanting someone like that at your side, to wanting it to be him. 

Aizawa leaves not long after. He casts you a sidelong glance that you can’t read. One job to another, the work is patently endless, though you can’t help but to notice that it is self imposed—being stagnant is never in the cards. 

You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Yagi clears his throat in the prolonged pause. “So. What is your blood type?” he asks with little tact, avoiding your look of betrayal. “If I had to guess, Aizawa-kun must be type B. He is quite honest and unconventional…”

Yamada cackles again. 

You put your head in your hands. This is hell. And it is largely populated by the UA heroics department.

The three day weekend couldn't come any quicker.

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From: Yamada.Hizashi@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: Check this out! Message: 

HEEEEEY 😎

[HYPERLINK: myquirkyintrovert.jp//11-introvert-friendly-activities-perfect-for-a-first-date/] Figured you might need this. ROTFL !

(Rooting for you)

Yamada Hizashi English Department, UA High School Put Your Hands Up Radio 81.3FM QOTD: If music be the food of love, play on 🎵 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The morning spills over your senses like a heady fog. It obscures your vision, sleep-sand still tucked into the corners of your eyes. Dust fairies dance in the spotlight cast through the room and you turn into your pillow, away from the performance. 

You’re caught in a web—linens tangled around your ankles, anchored to the bed, suffering through cottonmouth and haze. According to the time you slept plenty. According to your body, however. 

The floor is cold against your feet. You yawn, joints clicking as your limbs stretch. Meander through the typical morning routine without a second thought, or a third. Only when your face is washed and you’re significantly more awake do you wander out of your apartment.

Cushioned by a set of fluffy, foam soled slippers, you stumble into the common area, welcomed to a languid, warm atmosphere. Surprisingly, a few people are already there. Yamada is dressed in his civilian clothing, waist length hair braided back into a ponytail that mimics a mohawk. Eri is seated on one of the kitchen stools, squirming as his fingers work through her hair in gentle twists, styling it to match his own.  

She’s wearing a denim overall dress dotted with embroidered cats over a long sleeved shirt, matching the subtle pattern on her white tights. Her legs kick happily under the island. A smile pulled at your mouth as you watched the homely scene. 

A familiar sleep-worn voice murmurs your name and you try to look more alert than you feel.

The smell of percolating coffee reaches your senses. You retreat from the stinging heat that brushes your knuckles as Aizawa nudges a freshly poured mug toward you. “Oh, shit. Thanks,” you mumble. The surroundings are still gossamer soft and blurred at the edges; you’re impassive when your fingers slip through the curved handle and overlap his. 

Faint, coarse hair on his knuckles. Dull nails. Rough skin. You take the mug and bring it to your face. Steam kisses each cheek, billowing as you blow across the tawny surface. Aizawa’s throat bobs. Your stare lingers over the rim longer than appropriate, dragging down his body to take in the rare casual appearance. 

“You look nice”. 

His jaw ticks, eyes fixed on the button of his loose knit cardigan as he rolls it between his thumb and finger. Black, like most of the articles in his wardrobe, but stylish. The hem falls below the hip, hung over a pair of dark slacks. It’s flattering on his frame despite being oversized.

“Contrary to popular belief I can actually dress myself,” he says. 

“Colour me surprised,” you sip the hot coffee in a poor effort to conceal your grin. Even as the remaining dregs of sleep subside you can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. “Are you guys going somewhere?”

Before he can respond Eri is bounding over. She crashes into your legs, chin above your knees as she looks up and chimes, “Good morning!”

“Good morning sweetheart,” you say, holding your hot coffee out to the side. Eri’s eyes squint with the force of her smile and sunlight pools through tall standing windows, highlighting the glittery clips in her faux mohawk braid. “Your hair looks beautiful”.

“Thank you,” she delicately pats the top of her head. “I wanted it to look pretty today. We’re going to the com-mer-cial dis…”

“District?”

“District,” she nods excitedly. “Have you ever been to a district? Deku said there are lots of fun things for us to do. Will you come with us?” Then looking to her father for permission, she clutches her dress and asks, “Please?”

You blink. The coffee mug begins to sting the skin of your palms. “We can always use an extra chaperone,” Aizawa offers slowly, eyes sliding over you from head to toe, making you all too aware of the ratty old pyjamas you’re still wearing. “You can accompany us if you want to”.

The next words leave you in an instant.  “Do you want me to?” you asked. They’re clumsy and your voice fractures, bringing with it a flood of warm embarrassment. “Sorry. I think—I’m still half asleep”. 

Shouta suddenly appears to have swallowed a lemon. 

“Of course he wants you to,” Yamada strides over. The absentminded tapping of his phone’s keyboard echoes amidst the awkwardness. A smarmy grin plays on his lips and he tucks his chin to peer at Eri over the rim of his yellow tinted glasses, “Ain’t that right, Eri-chan?”

Eri nods insistently. Aizawa settles his hand atop her crown, careful not to disturb the braid, and stops the bobble head movement. “I don’t need you to speak for me,” he sighs, and the sound is fond more than anything else. “We’re meeting the students by the bus in thirty minutes,” He meets your gaze. A red-gold hue catches the light against the dark limbal ring around his iris. “You should come”.

Your chest flutters and you put his tone down to imagination. “I’d love to,” you reply, patting down your pyjama shirt. “Let me just get ready”. 

Quiet bickering follows you upstairs. You rummage through your wardrobe at a frenetic pace. There’s really no time to spare to worry about what you should wear. Once dressed you cram a water bottle, a lightweight fleece, sun protection, recovery gummies—

You pause, eyeing the unnecessary bulk in your rucksack. No doubt the kids were old enough to bring their own bags. Your tongue smooths over the teeth marks inside your cheek and you set the thought aside. No harm in being prepared. 

The clock on your phone screen blinks. Five minutes to go. You slip it into your pocket and hurry out the door, bag strap drawn over your shoulder. Kurose looks up from the couch as you stumble through the common area, navy hair flattened to one side, a few stray golden strands upright and reminding you of an antenna. 

“Hi Kurose-san,” you huff, jogging past and giving a quick wave. “Bye Kurose-san”. 

“Have fun out there,” they cheered. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“That really doesn’t narrow it down by much,” you call back from the genkan, slipping into your shoes. Laughter bleeds through at the faux wounded look Kurose sends your way before you leave. 

The crisp morning air bloats your lungs on a deep inhale. Not a cloud to be seen, the sky a pleasant blue canvas. You descend the steps and follow the path toward the staff car park. Ushered into a single file line, a modest flock of hero students wait beside the minibus. You can’t help noticing how much younger they seem without their uniforms. 

Eri locks onto you instantaneously. Her lips move, and you think she must’ve called for you, but her voice was too small. Still it beckons the attention of the teenagers around her. One by one they shout your name, their clamouring coming together in an ill practised chorus.

Yamada ducks out from the minibus. “Yeaaah!” he beams, leaning against the folded door. “Right on time, my friend. We were just discussing the buddy system”. 

That reminder elicits a quiet groan from the class. Yamada laughs good naturedly, “I know, I know. But safety comes first, kiddos. Have you picked who you’re stuck with today?”

There are various nods and shrugs. Numerous heads turn to Bakugo, including both Midoriya and Todoroki, and he appears indubitably unimpressed that he’s spoiled for choice. Yamada’s focus lands on Eri. “What about you, mini me?” he pokes at the swell of her cheek. “Gonna be my buddy today?” 

Her anxious eyes flicker between you and him. You’re admittedly flattered that she’s torn. But the doubt is short lived, decided by an inconspicuous wink from Yamada. A toothy grin brightens her face. “Okay,” Eri chirps, holding out her hand for him to take. 

“We get to be passenger princesses today,” the voice hero whispers excitedly. You do well to restrain the coo building in your throat as his palm dwarfs her fist and her lips form an ‘o’. 

Suitably organised, the kids begin to climb onto the bus in their pairs. Iida and Todoroki sit in the spaces in front of Shinsou and Bakugo. There’s a soft pout to Midoriya’s lip but he happily joins Kouda, fingers moving in graceless strokes as they sign to one another. Yaoyorozu joins Jirou, taking the window seat. Tokoyami listens along to Kaminari’s aimless rambling while Sero, Mina and Kirishima sit behind them at the very back. 

Aizawa is already aboard the bus discussing safety policy, capture weapon draped around his shoulders. He pauses conversation with the driver and smiles as Yamada ushers Eri into seats positioned at the very front. Languid, his focus slides to you, the very last to enter. Heartbeat quickening. There’s something there, you feel it existing on the fringes. 

“Enough. Settle down,” he says, voice rough and commanding authority. The commotion dwindles. You nod before shuffling through the aisle to the remaining spaces. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that this trip is a privilege. I am trusting you to behave, follow instructions and stick together. Understood?”

“Yes, Sensei”. 

“Do you all have your phone notifications on? Your monitors activated?”

Yamada throws up a peace sign and jumps in, “Yes, Sensei”. 

Aizawa rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment. With the polite incline of his head to the driver the bus doors whirred on their hinges and began to shut. He tucks a curtain of hair behind his ear, adding, “Any questions before we leave?” 

Shinsou clears his throat. His elbows rest on the back of Midoriya’s chair. He lazily points towards Aizawa and drawls, “Does Aizawa-sensei have a buddy?” 

You immediately become conscious of a tangible weight. Their stares fall to you, his included. Dark eyes like flint to your very core. You grin and bear it—grimace through the tension and hope his sharp intellect does not extend to your thoughts.

Aizawa pressed his lips thin, “Any actual questions?” 

The figures in your periphery all shake their heads, biting back amusement in the face of their teachers' chagrin. The pressure does not dissipate when Aizawa takes the spot next to you, nor when the engine sputters to life and the looming barrier bordering the school entrance lifts to allow passage. 

The destination isn’t far. A fifteen minute drive at best. Still, as the journey progresses the air grows notably sombre. While much of the city has been restored, ghosts will remain. Skeletons of buildings sit on the landscape. Once a sprawling metropolis now made a uneven scar tissue terrain. 

That twinge of concern has you looking over your shoulder and scanning the bus in a less than subtle way. Everyone seems fine. Kaminari waves when you catch his eye. The only student that gives you pause is Bakugo, who has taken to staring hard out the window, discomfort etched into his features.

Or perhaps it’s your overactive imagination. The frown smooths into contentment and you realise he’s sharing a split earphone jack with Shinsou—maybe it was a song he didn’t like. 

You try to shake off the trepidation hanging over your mood. Aizawa notices but doesn’t pry and you find yourself grateful. 

Your concerns become minor the moment the minibus pulls into the commercial district. Standing prominent against the skyline, the building is sun drenched and unsettlingly clean. Inside, light pours through the high domed ceiling and reflects on the shiny tiled floor. There are three upper levels visible on spiralled balconies, each dedicated to different departments. 

Ground level is rather miscellaneous. Record stores, hobby crafts, tech booths and things of the like. Soothing music plays in the background, gentle melodic notes. Being somewhere that brought a sense of normalcy boosted the students morale. You’re warmed by contagious excitement—Aizawa too, lacking his usual force and a smile in his tone as he tells them. “Remember, you’re not to leave this building. If something happens you contact one of us”. 

They split off in opposite directions with the promise to meet at the food court in two hours. Eri and Yamada linger a few minutes longer. She tugs at her fathers sleeve and when crouched to her height she plants a short kiss on his stubbled cheek. 

You are then gifted a sparkly clip for keepsake, as though she were giving part of herself to take with you. “Thank you sweetheart,” touched, you attach it to your bag strap. “I’ll keep it safe”.

Satisfied, Eri thrusts her hand up for Yamada to take, and she comically leads him to march in the direction of a children’s store. The crowds are unexpectedly thin. Though you supposed a majority of the general public did not yet have the confidence nor the funds to make leisure trips to the mall. You’re only thankful they are respectfully giving your class a wide berth. 

Left alone together, Aizawa puffs an indignant breath, “…I think we’ve finally been set up”. 

Fondness surges deep in your chest and you bite back a grin. There’s urgency to it that you can’t satisfy. “Glad I’m not imagining things,” you wet your lips, moving to match his stride. “Does it not bother you?” 

“Which part?” he asks. He’s looking anywhere but you. There’s a playful lilt in his tone that equally settles and ignites your nerves. You would search his face for answers if the lower half were not obscured by his scarf. 

“The ‘clearly trying to get us to date’ part”. 

“There are worse people to be lumped with”. 

Aizawa’s profession rarely left time for indulgence. You’ve heard him discuss it before. He never thought it sensible to involve another person in what he had presupposed would be a tumultuous relationship. For that reason, you wonder if he has much experience in romance at all.

“Ever the charmer, Aizawa”. 

“Shouta,” he says. You blink, narrowly caught in a stupor. The erasure hero sinks to burrow deeper into his capture weapon. Warmth rises to the tips of his ears in spite of his efforts. “Just call me Shouta”. 

Very eloquently, your response is, “Oh”. 

“Or don’t,” he grunted. 

There’s a wealth of unspoken meaning behind that. A single name, a confession. Your heart feels full, stuttering in a way it hasn’t in a long while. “So. What should I tell my friends?” you pick up speed, giddiness spurring your pace and taking you a few steps ahead. “‘This is Shouta. We work together. He has twenty-something kids and our first date was spent patrolling the Musutafu mall’?”

“I have one kid—” Shouta falters, though fleeting, as if he hadn’t realised he’d begun to walk the perimeter. He arches an unimpressed brow, any scorn decidedly betrayed by the mirth in his eyes. “Did you have somewhere else in mind?”

An hour rolls into another. You meander various stores together, occasionally bumping into the students and ignoring their playful looks. He buys some things for Eri—or so he claims, now in possession of three different cat themed gel pens—and you pick out new books to keep in your classroom. 

In the grand scheme of things it’s a paltry affair. You’re looking around a newly built mall with a man you’ve known for close to two months. Simple, comfortable, as most things are with Shouta; yet it feels like a path you’ve walked more times than you can count. Fastened by mattress stitch seams, shoulder to shoulder, you share conversation written in passing glances, so many possibilities etched into a handsome crooked smirk—

Suddenly, three message alerts come loud and in quick succession. That alone is enough to shatter the atmosphere. They feel frantic, and Shouta’s expression is explanation enough. 

“It’s Shinsou. Something happened with Bakugo,” he mutters. In one fell swoop he is dashing ahead and you are not long behind. He turns a corner. Your kids are bunched together, seemingly bickering and distraught. Midoriya’s frantic voice can be heard above them all. Civilians have parted, tucking themselves against walls and waiting at security’s instruction. You’re comforted by the fact that they are not rushing out in droves. 

Bakugo is absent. The air smells like smoke but there’s no notable damage. Shouta flashes his hero license and steps into the shoes of a guardian so naturally you wonder if he ever takes them off. The officers standing nearby offer sympathetic smiles, allowing you through, too, after seeing your UA badge. 

While Shinsou is relaying what happened to Shouta you approach the others. A chill spikes the air, colder as the distance lessens, and you realise it must be Todoroki’s quirk. He’s standing at Midoriya’s side, exhaling visible breaths, laying a cold hand on his friend's neck to allay the panic. 

“Hey guys,” you greet gently. “Aizawa-Sensei is just clearing things with Shinsou. Do you know what happened?”

Midoriya snaps to attention, “Sensei—Kacchan, he’s—!”

Kaminari closes in, careful as he drapes his arm across Midoriya’s back. “It’s alright, man,” he murmurs. Todoroki nods. There’s a helplessness in his expression. “Kacchan’s okay. He just needed to blow off some steam. Or smoke, I guess”. 

A repetitive sound loops above your heads. You realise then that there’s a jumbo multi screen hovering in the centre of the ceiling. Clips depicting Gigatomanchia's rampage fade one into a title card, the words ‘twenty city rampage’ highlighted across a sepia backdrop. Your stomach churns at the sight, inhaling sharp between your teeth. 

“It’s that new bullshit documentary,” Jirou interjects. She fiddles anxiously with the jack hung from her earlobe. “They—uh. There were pictures of…”

“I understand. Thank you, Jirou,” you say. They needn’t relive it again—but they had. They will. Bakugo had raised his head and saw his worst experiences pilfered for television. 

You exhale, taking with it the abrupt anger and frustration. They’re looking to you for reassurance. “I promise we’re going to find Bakugo,” you tell them. “I’m sorry that any of you had to see those images again. As Kaminari said, I imagine he got overwhelmed and needed some space”. 

Midoriya swallows thickly and he nods. The motion is unsettlingly lifeless. His blank stare passes over your shoulder, and a silhouette of bodyheat settles behind you. 

“Shinsou explained everything,” Aizawa says. His presence visibly untangles the knots in their posture. “Security informed me Bakugo is still in the building. I need you all to wait here for Yamada-sensei—” he holds his hands out in a placating gesture as Todoroki begins to interrupt “—you will wait here while we look for him”. 

“I’ll start heading that way,” you point where the wide walkway narrows towards the southern exit and hard turns left, not wanting to remain still for longer than necessary. Aizawa regards you with a meaningful look and nods. 

You take off. The air retains a faint smokey smell. It grows thicker, more prominent as you pass the various hero merch stores, meeting the eyes of a Edgeshot cardboard cutout. Acrid nausea rises unforgiving in your stomach. 

It guides you to a fire door slightly ajar. Through the door is a dreary stairwell, presumably to be used by customers on the upper floors during an emergency. Bakugo’s hunched figure can be seen through the crack. He’s sitting on one of the steps, head cradled in crossed arms. 

You quickly text Shouta to let him know, and ask that he give you two a little space. You’re hardly expecting him to talk. But where Aizawa-sensei goes his ducklings will follow, and you have a feeling Bakugo is not yet in the mindset for company. 

The door creaks on its hinges as you enter. “Leave me alone,” the Bakugo shaped lump growled. An emotional hurricane in the body of a boy. Your throat tightens. It threatens to drag you in. You can feel the sharp winds clipping at your resolve as you lower to sit on the step beside him and he bristles, furiously spitting, “I said fuck off!” 

Someone more highly strung and disciplinarian could be tempted to jump in. A person such as yourself, lenient and with less experience, might find it easier to flee; to let the gale propograte and weaken on its own. Before being employed at UA your students had always been older, less prone to outbursts and plausibly wiser—but, you suppose, children still. You are honest enough to inwardly admit that you don’t know how to make this better. But you are determined to try. 

So you see your body relax and let your voice flow out calmly, “I’m not going anywhere now that I’ve found you. Your friends are worried”. 

Bakugo laughs humorlessly and snaps, “Then what, you gonna lecture me in that old man’s place?” His hands are wrung tight in his fight to still the tremors. Blood surfaces beneath the pressure and seeps into his nail beds. “Tell me some bullshit about how heroism isn’t defined by success, that media leeches are a given and things will get easier if I stick it out?” 

“I didn’t come here to lecture you about anything,” you say. He eyes you with suspicion. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Now that I know, we can sit here as long as you need”. 

What follows is a long, thick silence. The lives of ordinary people can be heard muffled through the stairwell. Unawares, and in a way, unintentionally mocking. Bakugo’s laboured gasps toll louder in your ears. You don’t speak. You monitor the rise and fall of his chest, gradually slowing until the defensive vitriol clears away. 

“I hate losing control like—” Bakugo’s expression twisted uncomfortably then, as though the confession tasted bitter, and you patiently held your breath. "Fuck. How can I call myself a hero when…" his voice loses strength, reminiscent of an echo. 

He rubs harshly at the spot where his heart rests. You take the young hero by the wrist. You envelop his split knuckles wearing a thin smile, admittedly strained, and squeeze around those shaking fingers while the moment simmers, a gentility not in the absence of violence, but despite it all. 

Bakugo blinks up at you. It knocks a tear free, careening down the side of a flushed cheek. The sight lodges something in your throat, thick and hard to swallow; all the words you don’t know how to say. You would never understand what it means to reside in his body—to think of yourself as the scene of a crime. 

Family members, strangers, had visited his hospital room to mournfully listen to that pulse one last time, and Bakugo told them to come by whenever as though he were a living effigy of their lost son. You saw the disconnect he felt from himself. That lifelong debate of what makes a person a person. 

He’s just a kid. 

“Bet you’ve heard hundreds of ‘I’m sorry’s’ at this point, huh?” you murmur. Bakugo snorts. 

“Try thousands,” he rasps. Clicks his tongue to his teeth to save face. “Never know what they’re really apologising for. Rubs me the wrong way”. 

And after being witness to how Bakugo’s mind works you understand what that means. Atleast, you think you might. Teenagers hold enough shame without the weight of another person's life in their arms. You only imagine he hears their regret, guilt, disappointment—hears ‘sorry it was you, kid’ and ‘sorry it wasn’t him’. 

“It’s okay to be angry, you know,” you vowed solemnly. “There’s so much pressure to channel what happened to you into something positive. To make it your strength. And maybe you will, eventually. But you’re allowed to step back and say ‘I went through something scary and traumatic and that changed me forever’”. 

Bakugo grunts. He scrubs under his nose with the back of his hand. “Don’t need you to tell me that,” he says, tone lighter than before. It sounds a lot like ‘thank you’. 

“I’m glad,” you nudge his side and return your hands to your lap. “In that case we should talk about something else”. 

“Like what?” 

“Your assignment,” Bakugo snorts, rolling his eyes. “Hey. I’m serious. Most of the others have come to me with their topics but yours is still a mystery”. 

“‘Cause those losers need help and I don’t,” he says. There’s no malice in it. His cadence is lighter, the burden he carries now far more loose fitting. You watch him pick at the rips in his jeans. “…Mine’s about mythological figures. Some cult wackos out there believe the old Gods had quirks. Hence the animal heads and shit”. 

“That’s a brilliant choice, Bakugo,” his answer brings a sincere smile to your lips. “Gives you a lot more to explore in your discussion. I can’t wait to read it”.

The muscles in Bakugo’s face twitch. Mouth deliberately downturned. A flustered yet pleased blush paints the tips of his ears and the simple praise breathes him to life like a technicolour Oz. It eases the anxiety simmering under your skin. You prompt him to talk further, pleasantly surprised to find that his curiosity extends further than Japan’s own mythology. 

Eventually you need to update Shouta again. Leaving it too long would only worry him further. Bakugo’s eyes track your thumbs movement across the keyboard as you type. “Are you texting Eyebags?” 

“I’m texting Aizawa-sensei,” you correct blithely as a text bubble appears on the bottom left of the screen. “I thought Shinsou was ‘Eyebags’”. 

“They’re interchangeable,” he rebuts. You huff a laugh, screen going dark with a quiet click. Bakugo’s reflection looks back at you where he’s peeking over your shoulder. 

“You two a thing or somethin’?” he asks, not even attempting to hide his interest. 

“We aren’t ‘a thing’,” your fingers form quotation marks around the words. And it’s true. You aren’t. Yet. “I don’t know why you all came to that conclusion”. 

“Probably ‘cause you look at him all googly eyed. And he always shares that shitty jelly with you. Basically his alternative to a proposal,” he smirked. Shouta is still typing—

Your phone vibrates. The message comes through.

—A thumbs up emoji. 

Bakugo laughs. His eyes crinkle. A crease deepens on the bridge of his nose. The brief flash of a toothy grin. No longer a hero-too-soon on two tired feet but instead a teenage boy, poking light fun at his teacher. 

“The hell. He texts like my old man”.

You hum in amusement. “Some people do better face to face,” the ‘like you’ remains unspoken. Shadows pleat across the stairwell as clouds shift, disturbing the dim stream of light. You become conscious of the hour. And it seems so does he. 

“How do you feel about heading back?” 

Bakugo’s stare fixed itself onto his hands. You notice the crescent shaped marks, the skin around his nails fraying, picking at his body like a seam. “I can go back,” he grunts. 

“You can, but do you want to?” you ask, blindly feeling up the strap drawn over your shoulder. The small, glittery claw clip is still there. “Humour me for a sec,” you unclip it and Bakugo frowns as you proffer it to him, rolling in the centre of your palm. “Let it bite you”. 

“Let it bite me?” he repeats dryly. 

“Clip it around your fingers or pinch your hand with it—yeah, like that,” you grin as he blindly follows the instruction. The little claw clip bites into a swathe of the skin from the back of his hand. “Better, right?” 

Lip jutted into a pout, Bakugo eyes the clip dubiously; no longer focused on the anxiety, and you take it as a big win. “I guess. Thanks Sensei,” you tense in surprise as he gets to his feet, dusting off his jeans. “I want to go back,” he says, nothing short of a demand. 

There’s certainly no love lost between you and the cold step under your thighs. You stretch as you stand, shucking the backpack higher up your shoulder. “Alright. Then let’s get you back”. 

Bakugo doesn’t protest when you remain at his side, keeping pace. His finger and thumb work at the clips hinge while he walks, absentmindedly opening, closing, running the teeth over his knuckles. You’re sure Eri would gladly let him keep it. 

Tears are all dried up which Bakugo appears grateful for. The class doesn't immediately rush him, though you can see that they want to. Rather they wait for him to come to them, parting like arms and coaxing him into the centre. 

You branch off to where Shouta is standing watch with Yamada. Eri stands behind his leg, clutching at his pant leg. Her eyes are glassy and wide as she looks up at you. “Bakugo is alright now,” you tell them. “But you know what?”

Eri instinctively pushes up onto the balls of her feet, as though climbing higher to hear a big secret. Lowered into a conspiratorial hush, you say, “I bet he would feel even better if you gave him a hug”.

Shouta’s hand crowns her head. He carefully pats the side of her braid, giving silent permission. Expression tight in a determined pinch Eri ducks between his legs and toddles toward the group. 

“He really doin’ okay?” Yamada quietly asked. 

You murmur an affirmative, shifting in place as you turn to watch the scene unfold. Eri pats Bakugo’s hip. He seems vaguely nervous as he rests on his haunches and allows her to tangle herself around him. 

Shouta’s knuckles knock your own. His fingers twitch, unfurling as though to reach out and then thinking better of it. “Do you think I should talk to him?” 

When you look at him he’s already looking right back. Eyes soft like the sun had made them warm. You mind the small gap and stretch your pinky, brushing the outer curve of his palm and retracting again. “Bakugo respects you. He feels safe with you,” you assure him. “I think it’d be good if you talked about it”.

“Maybe some extra sessions with Hound Dog, too,” Yamada adds. Your heart staggers, having near forgotten he was there. “For all of them”. 

“I’ll see if he can do another class session during their independent study period,” Shouta says, attention returning to Eri’s antics—she’s now walking Bakugo over, hand in hand, subsequently bringing the other students with her. 

Shouta exhales, clicking his neck. There’s a finality to it. You see the internal headcount he does in their approach, and how the preparation to jump back into action recedes at the confirmation that all his kids are present. 

“We’ve got two options now,” he announces. “I’m sure none of us want to stick around longer than we need to. So either we go up to the food court and eat, or we can head back to campus”. 

Mutterings break out amongst the group. Iida diligently attempts to organise a sensible vote and asks for a show of hands, but his effort is squashed the instant that Kaminari suggests WcDonalds. 

Eri keeps hold of Bakugo's hand the entire way back, and insists on sitting with him. Yamada switches buddy’s without complaint, wiggling himself into the window seat beside Shinsou, happy to pull out his headphones and collect music suggestions from his beloved students. 

Shouta remains at your side. You hear unfettered laughter and think you might be close to tears—the tender kind. Softly, you mumble, “I’m glad I took this job”.  

He exhales slowly, and the loss of tension has him leaning into you ever so slightly. Your shoulders touch. “Me too,” he says. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp   To: Principal.Nedzu@UAedu.jp  Cc: Inui.Ryo@UAedu.jp; Aizawa.Shouta@UAedu.jp Subject: Incident report [High importance] Message: 

Good evening,

Attached is my account of the incident that occurred at Musutafu Shopping District on Saturday, [x] September 11:34am. 

Hound Dog and I have also brainstormed a few suggested classroom additions for students coping with anxiety. 

Take care!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sleeplessness is an open invitation to overthinking. 

Everyone has since retired to their apartments and it is long past the hour for Eri to be in bed. Time slips through your fingers. You count the dust bunnies behind your eyes but nothing works. 

Clarity shrikes through you with small cuts. The day wears on your body like a bruise that you cannot ignore now the adrenaline has subsided. You’re processing the fleeting touches, the purposeful looks, the whiplash of panic, the heartache that comes with being helpless—

Your mind is a spinning top with no hands to stop it, not even the clocks. Though it falters at a single thought passing overhead.

There is one man you can trust to be awake at this hour. 

You kick off the sheets, unsteady as you nudge each foot into the wrong slipper. The dormitory is cast in shadow. Your eyes are slow to adjust, shapes and lines sharpening around you. 

Shouta is seated at the kitchen island, dark space doused in the low lighting from the stovetop hood, warm across the contours of his face. Papers are laid out before him in organised piles. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” 

A pen spins around his thumb. He peeks through dark hair curtaining his vision and hums. Your gait is heavy, like wading through waist high water. The quiet clink of melting ice draws your attention to his glass. “I didn’t take you for a gin and tonic kinda guy,” you murmur, leaning your elbows onto the counter. “Regular old sake, maybe”.

The corner of his mouth twitches and he takes a pointed swig of his drink. He smacks his lips. “Gin and tonic keeps me awake,” he explains dryly, nudging the glass in your direction. You fold to his soft suggestion and bring it to your nose. The smell alone is enough to make you shiver. 

Shouta laughs at your grimace. At that point you sense in your gut that maybe, maybe you should have stayed in bed. You’re warm, pleasantly sleepy, and your tongue feels dangerously loose. 

Seeking distraction, your gaze drops to the papers stacked before him. You set down the gin, beaded condensation wet around your fingers, and lean in for a closer look. The grade written at the top is worryingly low. “That’s… not looking so good,” you prompted. 

“This is Todoroki’s,” Shouta clarifies, brow pinched. He gives an empathetic nod to your wide eyed stare. From reading their files you knew Todoroki consistently ranked top five in class A.  “It’s not just him. They’re all struggling in different areas. And I was never expecting things to go back to normal but it’s…” 

“You’re doing what you can,” you say. 

Shouta clicks his tongue, “But is that enough?” 

You cover his hand without thought, thumb outlining the rough dips and peaks of his knuckles as you insist, “Yes. I believe it’s enough”. Somewhere in the spaces between seconds Shouta overturns his wrist, and your fingers are intertwined, and you’re squeezing until your palms kiss. 

You think of that heavy coat Yagi referenced. Of a man wearing his failures as self imposed repentance. “You aren’t the only one here helping them. We’re going to get them across this bridge, and then the next, and the next—” Shouta turns a cheek to hide his amusement as your rambling becomes more exaggerated. 

“You’ll never be rid of them. Not even after they graduate”. You smile softly, “The kids are gonna be alright, Aizawa”. 

Dark eyes smile back, “…You did good today, you know”.

Hundreds of butterflies hatch inside your stomach. “I—I did?”

He huffs at that, wetting his lips. “You’re impossible”.

Something unspoken weaves into the atmosphere—the attraction between you becomes a tangible thread before either of you speak another word. He’s much closer. Every movement he has made you’ve mirrored without meaning to. 

“Impossible?” you repeat, hushed.

He pitches his voice low and says, “I thought I told you to call me Shouta”. 

At what point had you settled into the cradle of his thighs? Your breath catches. Two hands are on your hips, soft flesh yielding under his thumbs as they massage shapes from memory. You clutch at broad shoulders and exhale, settling into the hold and surrendering yourself.

“Shouta,” you echo, charmingly dumbfounded. 

Gentle, Shouta takes your chin and turns you toward him. A large, rough palm cups your cheek. He brings your forehead against his, close enough to hear his breath falter. The air is clammy. Taut, primed to break with another tilt of your head, and he must sense it. There’s trepidation—hesitance to handle something as tender as this when the things he knows best are animosity and bloodshed.

You offer mercy in taking the lead. Your hands slip from his shoulders to his jaw. Shouta lets himself be guided into your magnetism, a contented hum rippling in his throat like the water of a wellspring. 

He kisses you deeply and it feels four weeks too late. It feels like muscle memory. It feels like something you’ve done a thousand times over. Those hands circle around your waist, splayed at the lower back, heat radiating through your shirt. Lips part at the light swipe of his tongue. You taste the faint notes of citrus and juniper, coaxing him into your mouth, swallowing a soft groan. 

Heat flashes through you. Familiar want is coiling low in your belly, so stark that you shake with it. Hands wander. Lips too. Shouta kisses across your cheeks, nipping the delicate line of your jaw. Stubble tickles your throat. He mouths at your pulse and pulls you impossibly close, a desperate edge to it as though he were making up for all the times he wanted to but couldn’t. He outlines a topographical map of your figure, fingers walking the bumps, curves and dimples, tentatively slipping up your shirt to reach your soft stomach. 

The hair along your arms stands on end. Fingertips climb higher toward your chest, and a heart that threatens to leap right out through your ribs. “Aizawa, we can’t—”

“Shouta,” he mutters, continuing his path down your collar. You shudder and his fingers flex, sensing the aftershocks of his touch. 

“Shouta,” you amend breathlessly. “We can’t have sex in the common area”. 

A rare clemency follows. Shouta stops, and your hands come to thread through his hair. Dull stubble tickles the dip of your collarbone. You feel his lips stretch thin into a smirk. 

He leans back to look up and doesn’t take his eyes off you. Half lidded and soft, wrapping you in a gauzy roseate veil that hems the whole world pink. Something about the surety of his desire stunned you. To be wanted by a man who always seemed above such things—it makes your chest pound and your face warm, exhilaration spreading to the very tips of your fingers, restless with the urge to touch him. 

“Who said anything about sex?” he asks, tenor low and deeply amused. It seems any mercy from him ended there. 

“So now you can play dumb?” you mumble, an indignant exhale puffing through your nose. You feel him twitch, heat seeping through the thin fabric. “As if you were going to stop there”.

Shouta merely gives you a crooked grin. The scar tissue around his eye wrinkles. You find him unfairly, preternaturally handsome. You like him so much you’re dizzy with it. 

All at once you are torn apart. Shouta has pushed you into the adjacent seat and turned back to his papers. An ephemeral dread rushes through you—immediately washed away by the sound of a door opening. Two familiar voices follow. 

“I bet he’s somewhere down here,” Yagi whispers. He turns the corner into the kitchen, awkwardly bent to hold a small hand. Swimming in her sleep shirt, Eri shuffled in beside him barefoot and rubbing the sleep from her eye. 

“Look, see. And even…” Yagi’s eyes widened as he spoke your name. They flickered over your dishevelled state and then to Shouta, who is equally unkempt. Luckily for him that is nothing suspicious. You, however—

“I’m here Eri-bug,” Shouta says. His clothes have been smoothed out, hair tucked back over his ears, expression soft and unruffled as he crouched to her height. She stops short of him, laying her palm over his outstretched hand. 

“Did you have a bad dream?” he quietly asks. Eri shifts in place and nods. You look away from their vulnerable moment with instantaneous regret. Yagi meets your gaze, freezing mid step as he backs out, brows arched high on his forehead. There’s a slight blush around his ears. You grimace. He absolutely knows. 

Something small clutches at your shirt sleeve and tugs. The yellow ochre of light dances in Eri’s big red eyes as she studies you from the security of her father’s arms. “Hi there Eri,” you murmur gently. “Are you okay?” 

Her grip doesn’t loosen. She blinks long and slow, “Did you have a bad dream too?” 

Shouta adjusts her on his hip but says nothing. Behind the nonchalant veil lies fond amusement and warmth. “…Not a bad dream,” you tell her. “I couldn’t sleep because I was worrying a lot. But I’m feeling better now”.

A sleepy smile stretches across her lips. Eri is seemingly satisfied by your answer but not by the distance. Without ceremony she leans away from her father’s embrace into your own. You make a short noise of surprise as she wraps her legs around your middle. 

The weight is oddly comforting. You run a hand down her back, “Eri…?” 

“Bed now,” she slurs, rubbing the swell of her cheek against your shoulder. “Sleep safe”.

Shouta moves closer. There’s something in his gaze that makes your throat dry. You’re not sure what he’s seeing. What it is he has been seeing in you all this time—

“You heard her,” he pressed a kiss to Eri’s hair, then turned to kiss your temple. He lingers, and each word leaves another. “Let’s go to bed. We’re alright now”. 

—You can only assume, like for you, it is everything. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: Principal.Nedzu@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp Subject: [High importance] Message:  Good morning!

I heard the news and thought it important that you’re reminded of UA’s relationship policies:

There are none! Ha ha! Did you panic?

Much happiness to you both. It is always a pleasure to see love blossom.

Kind regards,

Nedzu Principal of UA High School  〒123-4567 Ōikuyō, Shizuoka, Musutafu.  Go Beyond, Plus Ultra!

[jouska-the-deer]

Deep Purple

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Content Warnings: Mild Swearing, Heavy Angst, Discussions of Death, Mentioned Character Death, Bittersweet Ending

Word Count: 4162

Summary: After a battle with Eggman, Sonic takes a moment to stretch while Shadow heads home to prepare a relaxing night for him. However, Sonic is left confused when he seemingly comes back, acting differently than he had just minutes before.

Here's the link to Deep Purple on Ao3, otherwise, continue reading below the cut.

As the faint glow of the sun dipped below the horizon, two hedgehogs were headed toward the cool sheen of the moon reflected over a grassy field.

“Hey Shads? You mind if we stop for a sec?”

Slowing to a rest on the top of a hill alongside Sonic, Shadow promptly looked him over.

“Is something wrong?” 

“Nah,” Sonic grunted as he pushed his chest out and elbows back. “Just thought we could take a moment to appreciate the scenery before heading in for the night.”

The various stretches he performed while absolutely not paying attention to the scenery had Shadow raising a brow. 

“You’re sore.” 

“Well, that tends to happen when you spend an evening fighting an evil scientist piloting a giant robot scorpion.” Reaching for his toes, he added below his breath, “It doesn’t help that time’s starting to have an effect on my joints.” 

Shadow crossed his arms and bowed his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t get all like that. You’re making it sound like I’ve only got a few years left in me.” Sonic reached above his head, stretching his shoulders. “Besides, it ain’t like you’re the one making the clock tick by, so maybe just focus on helping me loosen up, alright?”

With a nod, Shadow's gaze wandered through an ocean of grassy waves, while his mind wandered in the direction of home. Then, making everything screech to a halt, his nose caught a faint whiff of motor oil, reminding him that his fur suffered from when he attacked a poorly chosen point on Eggman’s recent creation. 

He hummed, a smooth grin on his face as he slid over and threaded his fingers through Sonic’s quills and massaged his thumbs into his upper back. Sonic let out a blissful sigh as Shadow leaned in close to his ear.

“How about while you finish stretching, I run home and wash out the mess in my fur. Once I’m done, I’ll light some candles, play some music, and we can share a long, warm bath as soon as you get home. Sound good?” 

“Sounds awesome,” Sonic said, turning his head toward Shadow’s. “Love you, Shads.” Pushing forward, he pressed his lips to Shadow’s. 

Closing his eyes, Shadow let himself melt into the kiss.

“Love you too, Sonic,” he said, taking a step back. 

“Oh! This’ll also give you a chance to use one of those bath bombs that’s been sitting around for ages.”

“The lavender ones from Amy? They’re caked in glitter.” 

“So?” 

“We’re going to Ember’s baby shower tomorrow. Don’t you think Amy would be annoyed to see that we took until now to use a gift she gave us before her expecting daughter even learned to drive?”

“I think she’d love that, actually. It’ll give her a great story to tell the kid after they’re born.”

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Of course I’m serious! Come on! Let’s be adventurous tonight!” 

Shadow snorted, hiding a smirk behind his fist. 

“I’ll consider it.”

“Just watch; I’m gonna turn that ‘maybe’ into a ‘yes absolutely.’ You’ll see.” 

“I’d like to see you try, but later.” 

“Don’t think you’re gonna sneak your way out of it.” 

Rolling his eyes lightheartedly, Shadow turned away. “See you soon.” 

Sonic waved him off as he skated into the distance. 

“Later Shads!” 

The stretching continued for a short while until the warm glow of sunset cooled into a darker hue and the stars dotted the night sky. Once Sonic let out a sigh of finality and stood up straight, he let himself take a moment to gaze at the constellations. A soft smile adorned his face as he closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air. Then, he turned to head home. 

But didn’t take a step further. 

Quirking his head, he squinted at the dark figure in the tall grass just down the hill. A dark figure with red streaks running down his black quills and fur, and moonlight glinting off his visible inhibitor rings. His expression was hard to read from the distance, but the way he was standing still as a statue was hinting at something, whatever that was. 

“Uh, hey again? I thought you went home.” 

“I…” He crept forward, each step taken as though his shoes were made of lead. “I just… wanted to… see you…” 

The closer he got, the more Sonic could see. 

The way his ears twitched with every step, as though forced to remain forward. The way his eyes were just a bit too wide and his lips just a bit too flat. The way that the moonlight shined through his soft fur, casting his silhouette in a blue halo. 

Sonic shifted his weight to one side, putting on a smirk. “Surely you didn’t miss me that quick.” 

The next breath he took was jagged, and his eyes still hadn’t held onto Sonic’s for longer than a short peek. 

“What if… I did…?” 

Taking in a long, silent breath through his nose, Sonic experienced nothing but the pure, fresh scent of grass. His ears twitched in a similar manner to those of the hedgehog in front of him. 

“Well… it’s nice out tonight. Why don’t ya take a seat?” Sonic gestured down at the grass. “We can take a sec to look at the stars together.” 

Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground, his gaze level with the moonlit horizon as he brought up his knees and crossed his arms over them. 

Though he sat down as well, Sonic’s eyes never left the person beside him… and it appeared he didn’t notice. 

“Something up?” Sonic said, head turned toward the moon but eyes still locked onto him. 

“Just… thinking…” 

“About?” 

“…Nothing important.” 

“If you’re thinking about it then it’s probably important.” 

He closed his eyes, taking in a long breath and letting it out very evenly. 

“It’s not.”

Sonic sat in silence for a moment, tapping his fingers against his knee.

“So if it's not important, are you just thinking about some cool fights we’ve had against Eggman? Like… remember his weird butterfly mech?”

“Yes.” He blinked, shifting his weight slightly. “It wasn’t very intimidating… or hard to take down. It only took… a few chaos spears to destroy the left wing.” 

“Yeah. It almost seemed more like an art project than a battle bot.” 

“The rain of glass from the shattered wing hurt worse than the energy beams it fired.” 

“It must’ve been an off week for ol’ Egghead. Maybe he was so focused on making another cool bug-bot he accidentally picked the lamest one to take inspiration from.” 

Though he let out a faint amused sniff, Shadow’s posture and gaze were still locked in place. 

Relaxing slightly, Sonic let his eyes wander to where the sun, and their recent battle, were just a few hours earlier. “The scorpion was definitely a bit cooler, and a bit harder to take down.” He paused, brow furrowed slightly as he looked at Shadow. “It would’ve been a nightmare to take out without your help.” 

“You handled worse,” he said flatly. “I spent most of that battle fighting badniks.” 

“Yeah,” Sonic said, softened gaze unnoticed by Shadow. “You did do some damage to it though.” 

“All I did was get drenched after hitting the oil tank. I had to take the longest shower of my life afterward.” 

Sonic lowered his head, expression falling but voice keeping its regular energy. 

“Yeah, but it’s not like you were gonna show up to Ember’s baby shower smelling like robot gore.”

“Of course not. Amy… wouldn’t have appreciated that.”

“And it would’ve made for a terrible story to tell…” Sonic paused, doing his best to hide his wince. “Ah shoot… What was the kid’s name again?” 

“Chrystal.” 

“Right.” Sonic let out a soft sigh, ears drooping. “Right…” 

Shadow continued to stare off into the distance, his mind seemingly just as far away. 

Meanwhile, Sonic’s gaze rested on him, though his mind was far in the distance as well. 

But not the distance that Shadow was staring across. 

Sonic took a deep breath. “Shadow… why’d you come to see me?” 

Suddenly, his breathing was a bit heavier. 

“I… just wanted to. Like I said.” 

“Shadow…” 

Their eyes met for only a second before Shadow tore his gaze away and put his hands flat to the ground. 

“I should go.” 

“Stay.” Sonic placed his hand on his shoulder, feeling a strong tremble beneath his fingers. “For me,” he added. 

Shadow swallowed thickly, and then crossed his arms over his knees again, resting his chin on top after. “Alright.”

“At least ten more minutes?” 

“Okay…” 

“Promise?” 

Closing his eyes, Shadow let out a shaky sigh. “Promise…” 

“Thanks.” Sonic smiled sadly. “After all, you just started taking the longest shower of your life, so surely we have a bit more time to talk before you’re done.” 

“Wh-” Shadow flinched with a gasp, then a second later, pounded the dirt with his fist. “Dammit! How could I just- Argh!” 

He started to stand, but Sonic once again placed a hand on his shoulder, this time, pushing him down. 

“Stay. You promised.” 

“What does it matter?” Shadow hissed, easily forcing himself up. “I’m not supposed to be here anyway.” 

“Because you came here for a reason,” Sonic said, rising to his level. “So tell me.” 

“I already have.” 

“I know it’s deeper than that, Shadow. Don’t waste the trip you took avoiding what you came for.” 

Letting out a long sigh, Shadow slowly sat back down. 

Sonic followed, looking at him intently. 

“So…?”

“It…” Shadow squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead against his crossed arms. 

Silence followed. 

“You felt alone,” Sonic guessed aloud. “And for some reason, you came to me.” 

“Tch. ‘Some reason.’ As if seeking comfort from you is a strange idea to have.” 

“That’s not what I meant, Shadow.” Sonic could see Shadow’s ears go back before he even said the next part. “You came to me, not your time’s me. That means you either thought you couldn’t go to future me… or I’m not around in whatever time you’re from.” 

The shudder that rattled Shadow’s quills confirmed which one it was. 

“And apparently…” Sonic continued, “you decided to go back in time to see me… instead of staying in your time and talking to your friends.” 

“I don’t have any friends,” Shadow growled, voice fracturing as he continued to speak. “Not… Not anymore… They’re all…”

Sonic closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. 

“You just lost someone, didn’t you?” 

Eventually, Shadow nodded. 

“Who was it?” 

Nothing but silence followed. 

“Come on. You know you can talk to me; That’s what you came here for, right?” 

“I came here for comfort!” he snapped, teeth bared at Sonic. “Not to be lectured on how I should grieve the people I cared about!” Quickly Shadow tore his eyes away again. “That’s the only reason I went back to this version of you, instead of a version that… could understand…” 

“Well, that was a lost cause.” Smiling somberly, Sonic looked into the stars shining through the fading streaks of maroon clouds. “If you wanted a version of me that never gave a final goodbye, you would’ve had to go back to before I lost you.” 

Shadow whipped his head toward Sonic, but by the time Sonic turned to meet his gaze, his head was already buried in his arms again. 

“It’s not the same,” he muttered. “You barely knew me back then. I barely knew myself back then. You had no reason to care about me.” 

“And yet I did anyway.” 

“Then you were an idiot,” he huffed. “And I eventually came back, so any grief you felt was for nothing. But Silver-” The second his name left Shadow’s mouth, he let out a ferocious scream and pounded the dirt as he did before. 

Sonic didn’t flinch, just continued to watch as Shadow groaned and yanked his quills. 

“Are you enjoying this?!” Shadow snarled, staring daggers at Sonic. “Letting me spill my guts while you sit there and watch?! Is that why you trapped me here?!”

“We both know you’re not trapped.” 

“Then why haven’t I left?!”

“Comfort.” 

Shying away, Shadow didn’t say anything back. 

“That’s what you said. Silver died, you wanted to see me, and now you’re here for comfort.” 

Silence. 

“But clearly, you’re having some… issues… actually asking for it.”

Sonic waited, watching Shadow’s back rise and fall with stiff breaths. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” Shadow finally spoke, his voice low and hollow. “I had my time with you. I said goodbye to you. I lived, for centuries, without you.” He let out a long sigh. “But I’m here anyway. I selfishly used the power of time travel because I felt alone. Alone and…”

Sonic tilted his head. 

“And…?” 

“And… afraid…” 

“Of…?” 

“Losing you… again…” 

As Shadow’s breathing became more uneven, Sonic frowned. 

“I… don’t know what you mean.” 

Sparing him only a short glance, Shadow swallowed thickly and curled in on himself tighter. 

“Silver… was the last person who knew everyone that I cared about. The last person who could really understand me whenever I talked about my friends… and you. And now, all that’s left are pictures and history books and… my memories,” he took in a jagged breath, “but who knows… how long those will last…” 

A wet sniff filled the air. 

Sonic gently placed his hand on Shadow’s arm. 

“Don’t touch me!” he snapped, batting Sonic’s hand away. “I’m not your boyfriend! You don’t know me! You shouldn’t care about me!” 

“That never stopped me before.” 

“It should.” 

“And why’s that?” 

“Because this is wrong. What I did was wrong. I shouldn’t be rewarded for it.” 

“Well, how ‘wrong’ something is depends on who's judging, and I’m not.” 

“It’s common sense: Don’t use time travel for selfish reasons.” 

“Running to someone for help isn’t selfish.”

Slowly, Shadow turned to him, being met with soft eyes. 

“I’m… just a stranger to you.” 

“It’s pretty well known that helping strangers is a hobby of mine.” 

“But…” 

“Shadow�� it’s just us here. Nobody to judge you. No rules to follow. Whatever you need… I want to give it to you.” 

Sonic opened his arms.

And Shadow fell into them. 

Not even a second passed between Sonic wrapping his arms around him and Shadow letting out a deep sob. He shook with tears, but kept his arms to his sides. Sonic continued to hold him close regardless. 

A few sharp breaths caught Sonic’s attention.

“Surely you don’t do this for complete strangers,” Shadow said. 

“Not often,” Sonic admitted. “But as much as you keep calling yourself a stranger… you still seem pretty much the same as my Shadow.”

“It’s been too many years. I must have changed so much that I’m a completely different person to you.” 

“Or maybe I’m a completely different person to you, and you’re just assuming that I must feel the same way.” 

Shadow’s eyes went wide, and he pulled back enough to face Sonic.

“H-How did…?” 

“I saw the way you were acting when you first got here. The guy I’m dating doesn’t look at me like I’m… well… the ghost of someone he knew a long time ago.” 

“Oh…” His head sank. “It… was surreal… seeing you again after so long… Once you were right in front of me I… couldn’t imagine asking anything of you like I had hoped.”

“And what about now? It still feels like you’re not really letting yourself relax.”

Shadow sighed. “I don’t think that… I can explain it well, but… this all feels… uncomfortably familiar. And… I can’t tell if I’m just recalling what it felt like when I was with you… or if you’re just easy to be around.” Slowly, he brought his gaze to meet Sonic’s. “All I know is that… I don’t want to get too comfortable… otherwise I… won’t want to leave.”

Smiling softly, Sonic placed his hands on Shadow’s arms. “Yeah, well, you can’t let the pain of a future goodbye stop you from being happy right now.” 

“It’s not that simple…” 

“It is that simple… even if it’s also kinda hard.” 

Shadow winced. 

“But I’ve… already lost so much…” 

“I know. But, losing the people… and memories… you care about just… happens. And sometimes, there’s nothing you can do about it.” Sonic reached for Shadow’s cheek and brushed away a tear. “That’s why you fill your life with new people and memories that make the hard times easier to get through.”

Shadow shot to his feet, his burning eyes staring Sonic down. “I can’t just replace you! Or my friends! How could you even suggest that!?” 

“New friends aren’t a replacement for the ones you’ve lost,” Sonic pushed himself up to Shadow’s level, “…but they can give you the things that we can’t anymore.”

Fresh tears fell down Shadow’s cheeks. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper.  

“I can’t imagine anyone giving me what you have.”

Brushing away his new tears, Sonic gazed at him with warm eyes. 

“Then keep looking until you find someone who can surprise you. But, that’s for after we say goodbye.” Sonic placed his hands on Shadow’s arms and caressed them. “Right now, you have a chance for something most other people can only dream of. Maybe you shouldn’t have needed to come here in the first place, but that doesn’t matter. Whatever you want, you can have it. I want you to have it.”

Shadow’s eyes darted around and his arms stayed at his sides. 

“Stop worrying so much. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve to relax.” 

Despite the welcoming invitation, Shadow didn’t take it.  

“Please, Shads,” Sonic said. “Just enjoy this moment with me.” 

Finally, his gaze came to a rest on Sonic, and in the deep purple night, Shadow could see the sea of stars reflected in his eyes. 

Their lips crashed together. 

For a brief moment, Sonic froze. But, with Shadow’s hands threading through his quills, he soon melted into the kiss. 

Shadow tilted his head to a better angle. Sonic’s hands left Shadow’s arms and glided to his waist and neck, drawing him closer. They were pressed chest to chest; Any cool breeze of the night unable to pull their attention away. 

When their lips finally parted, Shadow breathed a sigh and rested his forehead against Sonic’s.

“I haven’t been able to do that for so long.” 

“You could’ve fooled me.” Sonic hummed, nuzzling his nose against Shadow’s. “You’re still a total natural at it, and you definitely weren’t treating me like a stranger.” 

“I… don’t know what came over me.” 

“You finally let your heart take over, which is what I’ve been asking you to do this whole time.” 

Shadow sniffed in good humor. “I guess you’re right.” Then, he went in for a warm embrace. 

Holding him close, Sonic ran his fingers through Shadow’s quills, soon being rewarded with soft purrs. Before he knew it, the gesture was being returned, and Sonic found himself purring alongside Shadow. 

Time no longer mattered as they held each other in the moonlit field. Alone together with nothing but the waving of grass and the soft purring in their chests, nothing could interrupt them. 

Except Shadow’s voice coming in through Sonic’s communicator. 

“Sonic? Where are you?”

Sonic and Shadow slowly pulled apart, giving each other shy smiles. 

“I swear I took the longest shower of my life and you’re still not here? What’s taking you so long?” 

Raising his communicator, Sonic held down a button and spoke. “Sorry Shads, I got a little distracted helping someone right when I meant to head home.” He winked at Shadow, who was silently listening to the call next to him.

“Are you done? I don’t want to fill the tub only for you to get here when the water’s cold.”

Sonic looked at Shadow, who pursed his lips, but gave a slow nod. 

“Yeah, I’ve just gotta say goodbye first. You can get everything set up now, and I’ll probably be there in time.”

“Alright.”

“And make sure to grab that bath bomb while you’re at it.” 

Shadow furrowed his brow, his eyes searching across nothing. Sonic tilted his head at him

“Seriously? You’re still on that? Do you want us to look ridiculous tomorrow?” 

Sonic was too busy speaking into the communicator to notice the flash of recognition across Shadow’s face. 

“Well, I don’t think we’re gonna look ridiculous.” He grinned slyly. “I think, in the candlelight, all that glitter is going to make your gorgeous black fur sparkle like galaxies in the night sky. Don’t you wanna see if I’m right?” 

“U-Uh… I…” 

Sonic glanced at Shadow, and saw how the parts of his muzzle that he wasn’t hiding behind his hand were absolutely flushed red. 

“Well… uh… fine. Okay. I’ll add the bath bomb when you get home.” 

“Thank you~” 

“Whatever. If Amy gets mad I’m blaming you.” 

“Got it. Love you Shads.” 

“I love you too, but get here soon.” 

“No problem. See you then.” 

Sonic lowered his communicator and looked at Shadow, whose face was still very flushed. 

“Something up?” 

“The bath…” Shadow looked away and rubbed his arm. “It happened after the shower I took.” 

“Okay?” 

“I… must have forgotten the conversation you just had with me.” He looked at Sonic. “And, you never mentioned talking to me. Or… kissing me.” 

“Yeah, well, none of that really mattered at the moment. Plus… I figured you’d forgive me eventually.” He grinned knowingly. 

Shadow sighed, rolling his eyes but smiling nonetheless. 

“Besides,” Sonic continued, “it seems like you remembered the bath we shared, which is more important than a quick conversation.” 

Any blush that had left Shadow’s face immediately returned. 

“It… was very memorable.” 

“Nice. But no spoilers.” 

“You made me spoil the name of Amy’s granddaughter.” 

“That’s just a name. An experience is way better as a surprise.” 

“You’re right…” Shadow’s mouth stayed open, his eyes flicking between Sonic and the ground. 

“Is there something you’ve gotta say?” 

“Well…” Shadow looked into his eyes. “It’s just… you… also looked gorgeous. The way you looked at me in the bath… is how I felt about you the whole time. I… think I could’ve shown you how I felt more often…”

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” Sonic smirked. “You’ve never been as great at hiding your feelings as you thought.”

Shadow smiled, then looked off into the night sky. “And I think… before I kissed you earlier… some part of me remembered how you looked, even without me thinking about it…” 

Sonic placed a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the thing… Sometimes, your heart holds onto memories for longer than your head does. Even if you forget the specifics, you can still hold onto how you felt.” 

“That’s… a good way to put it.” He sighed, then brought his gaze to Sonic. “I… suppose I should leave soon.” 

“Yeah.”

Swallowing thickly, Shadow just stood still. His voice came out quiet and hoarse. “I… don’t know what to do when I get back…” 

Sonic stepped closer, rubbing Shadow’s arms. 

“Well, I’m guessing Silver had some friends when he passed, right?” 

Shadow nodded.

“Try talking to them. I’m sure they can understand how you feel, at least a little. And, maybe they can help give you the confidence to make some friends of your own.” 

“I… can’t…” Shadow took in a ragged breath. “More friends just means more people I’ll have to say goodbye to.” He bowed his head. “And I already have to say goodbye to you, again.”

“That’s true,” Sonic placed his fingers on Shadow’s chin and gently lifted his head, “but would you trade all the time you had with me, with all your friends, just to avoid the pain of saying goodbye?” 

Shadow winced, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“No.” He sniffed. “They… you… were the reason for… everything. I… can’t imagine… that I would have wanted a life without… the people I cared about…” 

Sonic pulled him into a hug. 

“Then find new people to care about. Find friends you can go to when you feel like this again.” He gave him a firm squeeze. “Find people that remind you of the memories in your heart.” 

Shadow squeezed him back. “I will.” Then, he leaned back to look into Sonic’s eyes. “I promise.” 

Sonic wiped away his tears, then Shadow stepped back, pulling out two Chaos Emeralds. 

“Chaos, control.” 

The portal to Shadow’s time opened, but he kept his eyes on Sonic, looking at him over the backdrop of the night sky. 

“It’s okay,” Sonic said. “Your friends are waiting for you.” 

Nodding shakily, Shadow took a deep breath. 

“Goodbye… Sonic.” 

“Goodbye, Shads.” 

Shadow turned toward the portal, hesitating for only a moment. Then, he jumped in. 

“I hope you never have to see me again.” 

Smiling, Sonic ran through where the rift in time had just closed, heading home to give his boyfriend a night he wouldn’t soon forget.

[toasted-frootloops]

Eyes For the Skies ~ Chapter 1 - Exciting News

It was another day at the base, the mercs all relaxing and waiting around for news from Miss Pauline. As they relax in the rec room, the slight clicking of high heels is heard along the hallway. Scout looks over excitedly as he walks over to the door. Soldier, Engineer and Pyro look over from the table while Demoman, Heavy, Spy and Sniper keep watching the TV. The door opens and Miss Pauling walks in, readjusting her glasses as Scout gives her a goofy smile.

Scout: Mornin' Miss Pauling!

Miss Pauling: Morning Scout, morning team.

Soldier: Good morning Miss Pauling.

Miss Pauling: I have some exciting news for you all. I know I've been away for a while, but everything is sorted with my recent absence.

The rest of the men all walk over to the young woman, Medic walking in and stirring a cup of coffee. She grabs her folder and pulls out some papers, fumbling them around as she organises them.

Miss Pauling: Alrighty, so it brings me great honour to introduce you gentlemen to the newest addition to the BLU team. Please meet, Benny.

The men look over at her confused as light footsteps approach the rec room door. As it opens, the men look over to a young man with light tan skin and dirty blonde hair wearing a light beige pilot jacket. He gives the team a light polite wave to the men, Pyro waving excitedly back to him.

Soldier: So what's the deal with this young man?

Miss Pauling: I'd like you to meet your pilot, he is going to be your tenth class. For the time being, he'll be spending most of his time here making sure the plane is in working condition and getting him battle-ready. I want you all to make him feel welcome and help him settle in.

She looks over to the young man, gesturing to him to introduce himself to the others. He clears his throat and gives the team a bright smile.

Benny: Hello, I'm Ben, but you can call me Benny. I'm excited to fight alongside you!

The team all look to Benny, Engineer walking and grabbing his hand, pulling him in for a firm handshake. Benny looks at him in a little surprise.

Engineer: Well, we're happy to have ya. I'm the Engineer, I gotta say I wasn't expectin' to have a pilot here with us, but we'll make sure you fit in here.

Benny: Heh, thanks.

Miss Pauling: Alright, I'm going to make sure all your files are in order. Why don't you guys show Benny around the base?

Engineer: No problem, we'll show him around.

Miss Pauling lets out a relaxed sigh and heads back down the hallway. Engineer and Soldier both look to the pilot and start leading him through a door to the rest of the base, the other mercs all going back to what they were doing before. Scout looks over at Medic and Spy with a confused smirk, scoffing a little.

Scout: Did you guys know anything about us gettin' a new guy here?

Spy: I think I recall Miss Pauling discussing something about a new recruit, but I figured it was for her part of this job.

Medic: Perhaps having another fighter on our team will be a good advantage, plus, having an eye in the sky will help us with combat strategies.

Scout: Huh, well it just seems a little weird that we got a new guy with us. I mean, where's he gonna stay?

Spy: Well, perhaps we could stay in Sniper's room.

Sniper turns around and scowls at the Frenchman. 

Sniper: Absolutely not.

Spy: You don't even use it.

Sniper: My stuff's in there and I don't need some new kid messing around with my things.

Spy rolls his eyes and looks back over to Scout, Snipper grumbling to himself as he turns back around to face the TV again.

Medic: I'm sure Miss Pauling would have organised something for him.

Scout: I guess, but...oh my good, what if he tries to flirt with Miss Pauling? I'll have no chance.

Both Medic and Spy chuckle at the worried man as he groans from them laughing at his possible misfortune. 

Off in the training room, Engineer and Soldier show off some of the weapons and training areas to Benny, him watching them excitedly.

Engineer: I'd say that's pretty much everything.

Benny: Wow, it's all amazing. It's nerve-racking but amazing.

Soldier: Ah, you'll get used to it son, I'm sure once you get your footing, you'll make a great fighter.

Benny: I'm sure, once the plane gets here, I'll need to make sure everything's in order so I'll sit out the first few battles.

Engineer: So what will ya be doing with your plane here?

Benny: At the moment, mostly doing supply drops for the base and for where ever you guys are going into battle.

Engineer: Well, we're happy to have you on the team, kid.

Engineer slings his arm around Benny's shoulder, the young pilot chuckling and a light blush crossing his face for a moment. Soldier taps his helmet and walks up to the two.

Soldier: I'd say your arrival calls for a celebration.

Engineer: You know what? That's not a bad idea. What do ya say, kid? Ya down for a party?

Benny: Yeah, sounds like fun!

The men all cheer and start heading back towards the rec room, a long and fun night ahead of them.

~~~~~~~

Hey y'all, hope you like this first chapter of another TF2 fanfic.

This one is gonna be a little more brainrotty than the All For One revamp.

All in all, hope ya like it.

[valorxdrive]

is there anything sora has a hard time believing in? have there been times where he's truly questioned his standing on certain matters or beliefs?

Seeing what it’s building up into the future of the series, I believe it’s going to tie to the Light vs Darkness dichotomy that a lot of people in the series come to preach about.

Growing up the way he did, they stuck only lukewarm at best. Meanwhile battle served as the staple to see how the forces of Darkness is the enemy in many regards, given the many opponents he’s come to face thrived in that power. All while Light in itself was dying out due to the lack of people in his era of Keyblade History that could utilize it’s strengths.

Kingdom Hearts 3 (the past titles as auxiliaries) arrives to the point where his worldview on this matter is being changed. I won’t say it’s entirely gray area, but the human aspect of emotion which all elements thrive off of in KH mythos gets studied in a new lens. Darkness in itself isn’t as much of an enemy moreso the people thrust into grim influence which negatively enhances this aspect.

This doesn’t even begin to add the 13 Primordial Darknesses, not introduced to him just yet, but it’ll only expand a need to require heavier reflection on many concepts.

While Sora is perceived more as your hero who would look like they’re a bastion of the good and truth. (Which would be light in most cases of media you’d look in.) Kingdom Hearts has also showed examples where being ‘true to Light’ in a setting that doesn’t properly let you grow, can lead to you having moments where you become a monster and your own worst enemy.

So far this is a work in progress! (With the saga continuing into the Lost Masters arc.) In the meantime, we’ll see what new entail introduces upon his worldviews.

____

On the other hand? Before all this would be the horribly wrong view that Nobodies = Not human at all, thanks to Yen Sid’s (granted he was just relying new learned info.) and Xemnas’s (Now this man was just being heinous reference to someone’s identity) views holding a heavy hand above him while fighting strong in the KH Re:CoM to DDD era. For a moment he almost did feed into those views due to the rage he felt to Organization 13. (Also forgetting Namine too, who would’ve easily pinned sense on matters SO much earlier to him.)

That’s where his heavy questioning and the corraled into a resolution was found by meeting Roxas at the end of DDD. Those prejudiced views that were being built up by pain and a case of ignorance were aptly shattered thanks to the better ends of guidance he gained, on top of simply having a heart that’s more willing to care than it is to hate as a defensive measure.

@knightshonour

[belongsinthetrash]

*trots over to your inbox again* ok um!!! How about Mari with 10 and/or 20 (sleep and PickYourOwn)

Fifth letter of the alphabet, I'll try my best.

Mari usually has peaceful nights of rest, but with the keyword being "usually", you can bet that she has unusual nights as well. Her restlessness has only become a recent thing, with the whole expectation of her parents, her worries about her brother, and the date of the recital looming over her, it's become increasingly harder to rest with all the anxiety bubbling underneath. Sunny has also been a bit distant as of late, refusing to sleep with her if he has nightmares. Mari deep down understands him a little, and she herself doesn't want to add to Sunny's problems with issues that should only concern her. Because of this, she goes to the piano room these nights, and does her best to make... this recital... perfect.

Now that the heavy stuff is out of the way, let's talk about the time her and Sunny did a Pokemon Nuzlocke.

In an effort to bond with her brother, she asked him what he was doing on his Game Boy, to which Sunny replied in his Sunny way by pointing at the title screen now fading in on the dot-matrix screen. Pokemon Red, hm? Mari had seen Sunny play this game before many times, but has only looked at it from a glance and went on with her tasks. But today, she was curious, and asked if she could stay for a while and watch him play. Sunny's eyes brightened up a bit, and set to continuing his save file. As Mari watched, she became a bit entranced with the fantastical premise of the world of monsters and the pleasant creatures that inhabited it alongside humans. Afterwards, whenever Mari was passing by Sunny on his handheld console, she made it an effort to stop what she was doing and check in on how far along Sunny was in this particular iteration of his journey of becoming the Champion.

One lazy day in the house, Sunny had walked up to Mari laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, and asked in a quiet voice, "Do you... want to play Pokemon with me?" Mari gave a ear-long stretching smile and said that she would love to.

Sunny had it in mind to do this self-imposed challenge that he heard about on the internet (don't care if Nuzlockes come after the events of the game, let me have this), and wanted Mari to help join in as not only strategic support from the smartest person he knows, but emotional and moral support because it was gonna be a rough one and he wanted it from the one that cared for him the most. So they went off and followed the rules of catching one Pokemon per route and releasing it after it faints. They were near dead silent when discussing tactics for battles, a bit mournful of when they had prized Pokemon meet the cold fangs of death, and downright uproarious after a well deserved win against a Gym Leader. Unfortunately, their journey was cut short after a startling defeat at the hands of a regular trainer after the 6th Gym. A sad end to be sure, but Mari still encouraged Sunny that she had a lot of fun sharing this time with him. She hoped that she could find some more time in her busy schedule to try something like this again.

[wrctings]

Bill Guarnere x Reader | Not without you

i really wanted to write about bill (of course all my respect goes to the real veteran, this is only based on the show) ❣️ warnings: cursing, strong language

It is with an irritated grunt that you hoist yourself upon one of the stools facing the bar, the heavy sigh that erupts from the depths of your irked mood shattering the frisky and overly-joyful atmosphere that came with off-duty nights of such kind. Under different circumstances, you were certain to have wholeheartedly relished in whatever celebration your friends were engaged in, either joining a heated game of darts — always resulting in the trade of many packs of cigarettes before a crowd of sprightly figures —, or partaking in an often drunken yet dedicated rendition of a song you do not always know the precise lyrics of. But on that evening, even as you recognise many bright faces that you trusted unquestionably and would be sure to spend a good time with among the swarm of uniforms, the exuberant force that would have pulled you straight to them had been receding due the very cause of your acrimony. Namely, Bill Guarnere. 

Even though the black-haired man has not yet noticed your coming in, busy downing a beer to Joe Toye and Babe Heffron’s cheering, you had made sure to pinpoint his exact location so as to contrive better ways to escape from the Sergeant’s attention. If you weren’t going to enjoy your night as plentifully as you would have without the incident that had caused your rancour, at least you would rather do so out of sight from the one who ruined it for you. 

“Why the long face, Sergeant?” 

You dismally swing around your stool, meeting George Luz’s playful grin. As he takes a better look at your indeed disheartened expression, your friend sits beside you, repeating in his best Cpt. Sobel voice: 

“Sergeant, if you disobey a direct order by not telling me what’s going on, I’ll cancel all of your weekend passes. Forever.” 

With George’s sudden materialisation and comforting humour, your spirits raise slightly and you even crack a smile, catching the gleeful twinkle in the soldier’s eyes. And yet, even with the effervescent talking pounding against your eardrums and the strong wafts of alcohol intertwined with smoke inundating the room from all parts, synonymous to the parties you took such delight in after days of combat and agonising battling against your own fear and torment, you still don’t feel like leaving your corner. In addition to this, Luz’s casual kindness only increases your resentment toward Guarnere. 

“What the hell is a weekend pass anyway?” you shoot back, half-amused. Ever since Easy Company made their jump in Normandy, weeks ago, Toccoa Camp and Captain Sobel’s tantrums have seemed so far away. ‘Going back’ now refers to Albourne, which, although not quite being home, nonetheless became a place whose name resonated with a sense of warmth that is always welcome after days of duty. 

George makes his pint of beer slide toward you on the surface of the bar counter, as though attempting to cheer you up differently as he notices that your state of mind hasn’t grown much merrier. “Drink up, Y/n. What’s the matter with you? Go get shit-faced while you still can,” he encourages you in a manner not at all subtle. 

“Thanks, George.” You comply, thankful, and take a gulp from his drink — the stream of alcohol prickles the inside of your mouth, its hardly-resistible appeal already enticing you to take another sip. “I won’t give this back to you, you know that, right?” 

“How dare you, Sergeant, this is United States army property!” The man doesn’t lose an occasion to impersonate Sobel again, this time succeeding in extracting a laugh from you. 

“There you are!”

Your attention then gets drawn by another silhouette emerging from the mass of clustered soldiers, striding toward Luz and you while clutching an empty pint of beer in each hand. 

“Hey, it’s Joe Toye himself!” George heartily pats his friend on the back. “Coming back for more?”

“Hell yeah,” the other man approves, slamming his load of glasses upon the piece of furniture before him. “Get me another drink, will you?” He shouts toward the man behind the bar, signaling for the private to get him a refill, before turning to you. “So, what are you doing here?” he inquired, bemused. “Why aren’t you out there partying? By that time of the night we’re usually third-wheeling for you and Garno.” 

“What?” you almost choke on your beer, staring at Toye in bewilderment. 

“Cut the crap, Y/n, we all know about you and Bill,” Joe rolls his eyes, smiling slyly. “He won’t stop looking around any chance he gets, so you better get your ass up there before he loses it.”

“Well why don’t he? If he likes replacing me so much, why don’t he j*rks himself off on his own.” Your stark reply startles both your friends, though Luz interrupts the bitter trail of thoughts that is already running through your mind again. 

“What the hell happened back there?” he asks incredulously, taken aback by the sharpness of your tone.

“Shit, I think I know what this is about,” Joe sighs, even ignoring the beers that were just delivered to him. He frowns, trying to piece back together what he thinks may be the reason for your tartness. “Last time we were out fighting Guarno went outta his way to do something Y/n was ordered to. He got yelled at by Lipton for that. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen you with us ever since. Not when Bill was around, at least. Is that what’s going on?” 

“I—”

“Y/n,” George cut you off insistently, having payed attention to the story. “We already got Krauts tryina kill us, it ain’t gonna make it any easier if some of us turn against each other. Let’s go have fun, okay?” he beseeches you and Toye, glancing at the bustling room. 

“Fine, but he ain’t off the hook,” you consented on reflection, seizing the pint that you’ve monopolised from Luz as you hopped off your chair. Now that your friends are by your side, the prospect of facing Bill doesn’t seem as tedious — wickedly tempting, even. You want to come clean with him, to spit out every ounce of anger you’ve been harbouring in his face, or simply ignore him until he isn’t able to take it any longer. Either way, you want to hurt him as much as he hurt you, belittling you in the line of duty without an explanation, without a single word to explain what was going on. If he can push you around this easily, making you look like you aren’t able to handle the situation on your own, then you have nothing to do with him anymore. 

“Just try not to kill him right away,” Joe swiftly turns around to give you a quick smile as you follow the two men through the room to the clinking of glass. “We still need men to fight the war, remember?”

Alongside Toye and Luz, you find your way toward the table Babe, Guarnere and Johnny are established at, drinking and talking loudly while their sentences are punctuated by sniggers and exclamations. 

“I found some friends of ours who got lost, had to show ‘em the way,” Joe announces humorously as your party stops in its tracks, greeting your fellow paratroopers. You act carefully as to ignore Bill’s gaze, only giving Johnny and Babe a pleased smile, and keep on standing by Luz without coming any closer to Guarnere.

Though a small part of you is itching to witness the puzzled look that makes its way upon the Sergeant’s face when you don’t return his salutation, you refuse to yield to further temptation and join George and Babe’s discussion instead. You hope to make Bill understand that as long as he doesn’t apologise — or at least tries to vindicate his action, if it is possible —, you are going to act as if nothing had ever gone down between you two. But the truth is, some things have gone down between the two of you, which makes it even harder to stifle the painful feeling that you’ve been carrying around ever since your return to England. The faded touch of Guarnere’s lips still haunts yours, the dimmed feel of his hands still runs along your back. Yet the desire to feel them again is checked by the flashing picture of him departing on the double as you and Carwood exchanged a dismayed look, Bill shouting that he could take care of it just as you were about to obey Lipton’s command. Does he really deem you unable to manoeuvre NT? You don’t know how to else construe his gesture — he must have known what he was doing, because you have never ever since anyone else behave this way on the front line. In the field, you do as you are ordered to, without questioning whom your CO delegates tasks. 

“Hey, Y/n! D’you remember how that song Babe was hummin’ in his sleep went? When we were in the truck.” Guarnere’s voice however reaches you at last, and this time you have no choice but to finally set your eyes upon him with a glare, sparing him none of your displeasure.

“No,” you answer curtly, shifting your attention back onto whatever Luz is saying. But you do recall how the song went, and your heart falters a little when you imagine Bill’s optimism dying out, the man’s speech growing quieter. If only you could resent him as intensely as he upset you.

You keep your interactions with Bill’s corner of the table to a minimum throughout the evening. Although you have eventually relaxed enough to actually take an active part in the chattering all around you, mostly laughing along and sharing anecdotes with Babe and Luz — who are further away from Guarnere —, your pride is still hurt from the latter’s lack of account for his actions. You had confided in Bill how arduous it had been for you to find a place in the army, let alone rise through the ranks, so his carelessness digs particularly deeply into your sensitivity. He, of all people, should have known how hard you tried, and yet he had disregarded it by treating you as if you weren’t capable enough. 

“Well, boys, some people care about a good night’s sleep, so I’m heading off,” you finally declared after finishing your second pint of bear, stretching your arms out before you depart. 

“Already, Sarge? Who knows when we’ll get another night like this,” George tries to change your mind, slightly wavering from tipsiness and exhilaration. “C’mon, we ain’t gotta jump tomorrow.”

“Yes, George, but I feel like you’ll end up jumping from tables in a few hours, and I don’t wanna break my neck joining ya,” you joked, patting your friend on the back. “Good night boys, take it easy.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Babe chuckled, contradictorily taking another sip from his drink. “Good night, Y/n. Don’t let the drunks hook up with you on the way.”

“There’s no chance.”

You spin on your heels after wishing your friend to have a good end of night, then heading toward the exit the room while navigating between the tables and inebriated groups of soldiers stumbling by, and disappear inside the corridor meant to lead you outside the building. As the English family that you are quartered with lives nearby, sneaking into their house this late at night isn’t a problem as long as you remain discreet. 

When the door closes on you, the buzzing sound of the bubbling men you left behind is still ringing in your ears and the faint smell of smoke hasn’t quite dispersed yet, echoes from the on-going party reverberating in the empty corridor. The aftertaste of alcohol is still burning your tongue, but you shiver, away from the warmth of the packed room where elation is chasing the Battalion’s fears and concerns away — far, far away. 

However, you don’t get much time by yourself as the thumping of footsteps arising from the direction you left draws your attention, making you turn around to get yourself acquainted with whoever else is roaming the hallway. You cannot help but scowl as you recognise the man: you didn’t know whether you expected anything from Bill, but now seems to be the time to find out. 

“Y/n, wait,” he calls out for you, so you stop — now could be the time to finally get everything off your chest. As he levels with you, Guarnere’s expression appears defensive, worked up. “What the hell is going on with you?” he asks abruptly, and your eyes anchor into each other’s at last. Your anger swells, enlarged by his unawareness. 

“What the hell is going on with me?” You snap in response, the muscles of your body stiffening as you attempt to keep yourself steady. 

“Yes, what’s your fucking problem!” he immediately retorts, eyebrows severely knitted together. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m sorry Bill, I thought you were too busy trying to prove everyone how tough you are and how good you are and doing other people’s jobs!” you bite back, unable to quench your outburst of rage. “If you think I’m only worth fucking, you better get the hell out of here immediately. Go get laid with someone else, because I was clearly mistaken about you.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” You can see that Bill is still mad, but confusion mixes in with his aggressive comeback as he tries to make sense of your answer. “I don’t fucking get it!”

“Oh, cut the crap. Like doing my job in my place is not a clear message! I’m perfectly capable of getting TNT on my own, Guarnere,” you stated in a more controlled, but deadlier tone. “I don’t need you to think of me as someone in need of your assistance.” 

“Fuck, this is why you’ve been acting so weird?” He understand with a movement from the head, jaw clenched tightly, but his gaze then sets back onto your face. 

“Yes, that’s precisely why,” you start again before he gets the chance to defend himself. “If you really think that I can’t handle things on my own in the field, then you’re wrong.”

“I didn’t do it because I thought you couldn’t!” The dark-haired man exclaims indignantly, the modulation of his voice stronger. 

“Then what is it? Why the fuck is it, Bill, because I don’t understand!” 

“I didn’t go out there because I thought you couldn’t handle it!” He repeats, driven by a virulent impulse. “I did it because that field was brimming with Kraut artillery, and I couldn’t stand the goddamn thought of seeing you collapse among all the other dead bodies!” 

His words hit you so forcefully that your next sentence gets caught in your throat, leaving you speechless for the first since Guarnere has joined you. I couldn’t stand the goddamn thought of seeing you collapse among all the other dead bodies. 

“That’s right,” The Sergeant continues less harshly, catching his breath. “I ran for that TNT instead of you because I didn’t want you to get killed. There, are you happy now?” Too taken aback to come to your senses right away, you process what Bill is saying. You’ve never heard him confess that he cared about you this much before, though your affection and attachement toward each other have been undeniable. “Don’t ever think that I might consider you a lesser soldier than any of the men in this company,” he goes on, intensely looking into your face. “I damn well know what you’re worth. And...” he hesitates, somewhat flustered, but finally opens his mouth again. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

As Bill speaks, the violent emotions that had previously got a hold of you evolve into something else — something even stronger. Something that drives you to him, that makes you want to stand by his side before the entire world, that reminds you more than ever of all the times you have looked at him, and seen a form of reassurance that you never found anywhere else. He takes a step toward you.

“You can’t die for me, Bill. You can’t. I don’t want to lose you either. But we’re done being stupid now, okay?” you whisper, unable to yell anymore while tears are threatening to well up as you cup his face in your hands. All that you feel at once completely throws you off balance, seemingly both emotionally and physically. “There’s enough fighting out there already.”

“We’re done being stupid.” Guarnere’s voice is now barely more audible than yours, and his comforting touch is soothing you down when he feels like it is safe enough to get closer. “I don’t want to do this without you,” he says.

You kiss, his hands running through your hair as you let yourself go to him, pressed against the comforting steadiness of his chest, the fabric of his uniform filled with the warmth of his body. After such a tumultuous night, exhaustion doesn’t take long to descend upon you, but what hits you most is another sudden realisation — you are falling in love with Bill Guarnere. You have been for days. 

The dark-haired man takes you into his arms after your lips break apart, hugging you tightly as he kisses the top of your head, and holds you closely. “Do you wanna go to sleep?” he murmurs, feeling you fully lean into him. “I can walk you to your house, or I know a spot where no one will walk on us.”

“Let’s do that,” you approve against his torso, before adding: “I want to be with you.” You want him to know how much you care about him too. 

“Okay, then come with me. No one should be able to find us.” He takes your hand, leading you through the dark, and is cautious to make sure that you aren’t seen.

Later that might, when you finally fall asleep, it is by Bill’s side. And, long after your eyes are shut and sleepiness has taken you both into its realm, you can still unconsciously feel the man’s heart beating inside his chest, pressed against your back.

[alectology-archive]

SJ/M’s plagiarism from fiction/media

I’m hoping to make a comprehensive list of all the sources SJ/M has outright ripped off from in the past. Feel free to comment down below or send an ask if you can think of anything.

SJ/M has very clearly ripped off of GRRM and JRR Tolkien’s works. Same goes for a lot of Anne Bishop’s works, too, and a lot of her favourite authors - so if anyone’s read books SJ/M has stated that she likes please let me know.

Note that this post will keep getting updated as I discover more evidences of plagiarism. Also note that there is every possibility that some resemblances are purely accidental and/or unintentional. So take it with a grain of salt.

(?) indicates a questionable addition to the post.

T/HRONE OF GLASS

- “The Queen Who Was Promised” comes from GRRM’s “The Prince who was Promised” prophecy in ASOIAF, who also goes by Azor Ahai, who wields Lightbringer, and is also known as the Son of Fire. 

- “Aelin” is probably derived from “Aelin-uial” in the Silmarillion by JRR Tolkien. Additionally, it may have been derived from Aerin Dragon-Killer/Aerin Firehair from Robin McKinley's The Hero and the Crown, as SJ/M stated it was one of her favourite novels.

- “Fireheart” is the name of Corlath’s horse in The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley, an author SJ/M admires.

- Empire of Storms, 2016, contains the infamous line ‘velvet-wrapped steel.’ And… so does Fifty Shades of Grey, in 2011: ‘Steel encased in velvet.’ 

- “Valg” comes from Terry Brooke’s The Sword of Shannara, another author SJ/M admires.

- “Hope. You cannot steal it, and you cannot break it." is awfully similar to the line from The Princess Bride about love "you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords". SJ/M has said that she loved the movie.

- The infamous “You could rattle the stars” is a ripoff of Treasure Planet’s “You’re gonna rattle the stars.”

- “To Whatever End” comes from The Two Towers where King Theoden says it just before the battle of Helm’s deep begins.

- “You bow to no one” is said by Aragorn at the end of the Return of the King after his coronation.

- Orynth has white walls and is surrounded by snow capped peaks. It has large white walls and bears an unusually striking resemblance to Minas Tirith in The Lord of the Rings.

- Aelin’s journey mirrors that of Aragorn. The lost heir to a powerful throne, spends years in the wilderness denying their claim, joins forces with the elf/faes to reclaim it and has an immortal elf/fae as consort.

- Nehemia names Aelin ‘Elentiya’, saying, “I give you this name to use with honour, to use when other names grow too heavy. I name you Elentiya, ‘Spirit That Could Not Be Broken’.” It sounds similar in tone and cadence to the way Galadriel describes the light of Earendil to Frodo. The name Elentiya even sounds Elvish, and sits discordant with the other naming conventions in Eyllwe.

- Manon gathers the witches to go to war by starting a series of beacons, lit all across Erilea, from snow-capped mountains to the woodlands - directly from the Return of the King when Pippin helps Gondor call for aid. 

- The wall defences of Orynth are completely sound, except there’s one more way in, through a grate in the water canal - another striking resemblance to a place in Lord of the Rings known as Helm’s Deep. There is even a scene where someone asks if there’s a secret passage the women and children can escape through.

- In EoS and ToD, Chaol is referred to as “Hand of the King”. In GoT the “Hand of the King” is a title given to the King’s advisor.

- The speech that Haldir gave when he arrived in Helm’s Deep, uniting the elven and human forces, is paraphrased at least three times in this book. Most notably when Manon brings the Crochan witches to fight alongside the humans. She actually says “Long ago, Crochans and humans fought side by side…”

- Kingsflame blossoms bloom only when a kingdom is at peace and the rightful monarch is on the throne. Also a very similar plot point to the White Tree of Gondor in The Lord of the Rings.

- The dam breaking in Anielle and flooding is based on the Isengard dam breaking in The Two Towers. 

- Chaol crosses the Narrow Sea to get to the southern continent. In GoT the Narrow Sea is the body of water between Westeros and Essos.

- The “Wyrdkeys” are the Silmarils. There are 3 Wyrdkeys and 3 Silmarils. They’re ancient and powerful stones forged by a being of great power (Feanor, who made the Silmarils, was the most powerful elf of all time). Everyone is fighting over them. And just like one Wyrdkey eventually ends up in the Terrasen Amulet, one of the Silmarils ends up in a necklace called the Nauglamir. They’re also all destroyed/lost at the end.

- Kingdom of Ash, page 543: “It was not arrows alone that had been fired, and now peppered the snow.But heads. Human heads, many still in their helmets.” In Return of the King, the orcs catapult severed heads (still in their helmets) over the walls of Minas Tirith.

- “What say you, Queen of Witches?”…….“I shall answer Terrasen’s call.” is a blatant rip-off of the scene where Aragorn approaches Theoden after the beacons are lit in the Return of the King.

- Rowan is referred to as, “My friend through many dangers.” which is exactly what Gandalf says about Shadowfax, his horse, in Lord of the Rings.

- The Land before Time, 1988: ‘Some things you see with your eyes. Other things you see with your heart.’

Crown of Midnight, SJM, 2011: ‘Some things you hear with your eyes. Other things you hear with your heart.’

- ‘Spirit that could not be broken’ is seen in Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002) and Throne of Glass (2011).

- It’s possible that SJ/M may have plagiarised Maria V Snyder’s Poison Study(?) (published 2005). Both books begin with the heroine being released from prison and being offered the choice to be freed by working for the very rulers who’d imprisoned them. Also, Valek - Yelena’s love interest - is the greatest and most feared assassin in the country and also acts as a mentor to Yelena much like Rowan does in Heir of Fire. However, I think this is a questionable addition despite similarities because SJ/M began writing Queen of Glass in 2003 and all the aforementioned aspects that are similar were already present in the version she published online.

- S/JM has saved a pin of Connor Kenway from the Assassin's Creed series (AC3) as Rowan and Lorcan on Pinterest. Towards the end of the series they started using hatchets as weapons, which is Connor's choice of weapon, outside of swords, and is used heavily in art which features him. Aelin's assassin suit from the earlier books also had a blade built into it, which was very similar to the hidden blade the assassins in Assassin's Creed use.

Further reading: Why not everyone liked Connor’s characteristic traits being ripped off: https://dragonidk.tumblr.com/post/614614548495859712/i-went-through-sjms-tog-pinterest-board-the-other

Further reading: An article comparing EoS’s ending to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: https://thebookfinch.wordpress.com/2016/09/08/review-empire-of-storms-by-sarah-j-maas-in-which-we-discuss-plagiarism/

A/COTAR

- “Prythian”, the A/COTAR world, is taken directly from Anne Bishop’s Daughter of the Blood.

- The Archeron sisters could be based off the painting “The Acheson Sisters” by John Singer Sargent which features three women.

- The Illyrians could have been based off of the Eyriens from Anne’s Bishop’s Black Jewels series. Both are warrior races with bat wings that use a war blade to fight with. They also both completely refuse their women any right to fight and consider losing their wings to be the absolute worst thing that could happen to them. 

- Feyre tells Tamlin, “The sun was shining when I left you.” which is basically Paris saying, “The sun was shining when your wife left you.” in the movie Troy (2004)

- Rhys proclaims, “Light can be found even in the darkest of hells,” Which is really close to Dumbledore saying (in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), “Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

- Daenerys: “We’re going to leave the world better than we found it.” 

ACOWAR: “Leave this world… a better place than how you found it.”

- “Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.” is a variation of “Pity the living and above all, those who live without love,” said by Dumbledore in the Deathly Hallows.

- A Dance of Dragons, George R.R. Martin, 2011: ‘He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I.’

ACOMAF, 2016: ‘Fire - he reminded her of fire made flesh.’

- SJ/M may have also plagiarised The Chronicles of Prydain for ACOTAR wherein Prythian is altered to Prydain and The Cauldron is derived from The Black Cauldron. This may be especially true considering the fact that SJ/M has expressed her love for the books and stated it on Twitter. She also went on to mention that she got the name for Prythian from those books. Similarities to the cauldron can also be seen in the fact that SJ/M’s Cauldron can transform humans into fae while Alexander's Black Cauldron is able to resurrect the dead.

!!!! Further Reading: Noticeable similarities between ACOTAR and The Chronicles of Prydain series: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Chronicles_of_Prydain

- Possible plagiarism(?) of Titanic: Rose is Feyre, Cal is Tamlin, Jack is Rhys. The story is similar - the girl is involved with a guy who seems nice enough, but turns out to be abusive etc. There are similar incidents of the table being chucked across the room/and the study being destroyed. Then you also have the girl being told the other guy isn't nice and she should stay away from him, but then it ends up being the other way round. The guy bosses her about, making her decisions for her and ends up dying for her later on.

- Rhapsody by Laura Thalassa and A/COTAR have awfully similar tropes. Both involve faeries, in both the main female lead leaves her barbaric boyfriend to go with the dark, elegant Fae boyfriend who came to collect a debt.

Further reading: A conversation in comparing The Vampire Diaries(?) to ACOTAR:  https://crescentcitysux.tumblr.com/post/618622356795064320/iolanthepeverells-pokeyfaes

Further reading: Similarities between Shatter Me and the ACOTAR trilogy: https://discountalien-pancake.tumblr.com/post/174823303683/dont-take-this-as-an-attack-im-just

C/RESCENT CITY

- Similarities between the plot of Darkfever by Karen Marie Morning (an author S/JM likes) and Crescent City’s plot: https://polysorscha.tumblr.com/post/183661492639/funny-thing-i-came-across-the-crescent-city

- The Princes of Hel might be from the Seven Princes of Hell demonology (some ancient writings trying to classify demons in christianity). [MINOR INFRACTION]

Sources:

- @sjm-exposed 

- @soartfullydone 

- @falstaffing for “My friend through many dangers.”

- https://readatmidnight.com/2018/10/27/book-rant-kingdom-of-ash/

- strangestoryteller.com

- https://camryndaytona.com/2019/08/sarah-j-maas-and-jrr-tolkien

- @rougeam for “fire made flesh”

- @sylphene for Aerin firehair 

- @sylphene and @paperbacktrash  for The Chronicles of Prydain.

- An anon for the Laura Thalassa comparison

- @hireath24 for the Crown of Midnight quote and “spirit that could not be broken.”

- @pokeyfaes and @iolanthepeverells for The Vampire Diaries comparison

- A reddit thread for the Titanic comparison 

- An anon for the Eyrians

- An anon and @dragonidk for the Assassin’s Creed addition

- @longsightmyth for Fireheart

[kriffani]

Second Chances (chapter three)

One could classify it as typical teenage angst, but Theo becomes increasingly anxious before even arriving to Alderaan. He fights against himself as he begins to question his capability concerning the weight of both his role in the mission, and his role as a Jedi Padawan.

warnings: mentions of injury (non-fatal), self-deprecating speech

word count: 2.5k

chapter one / chapter two

taglist: @hansoulo @cherrykenobi

Coruscant mornings were cold. Too cold. Theo clutched his canteen and scowled, watching as the steam from his caf billowed up and away into the frigid air. He always brewed it too hot. Obi-Wan often teased him by asking if Theo actually intended to drink “that crude, bitter beverage.” Which to Obi-Wan’s dismay, he did. The padawan yawned. Unable to go back to sleep, he had chosen to have breakfast and go to the hangar early. Too early. This blows. Any other time of day, he would have been delighted to be there. The civilian employees were friendly, and Theo rather enjoyed spending time on his own projects and working alongside them. But it was early morning, and it was obnoxiously cold. Mechanics began to mill about, once in a while tossing Theo a friendly nod or wave, which he politely returned. The hum of electricity filled the air as the overhead lights turned on, signaling the start of a standard work day. 0500, finally. He twisted the cap onto his canteen and clipped it to his pack. Theo stood up and rolled his neck, grimacing as he heard the vertebrae pop. Footsteps sounded from behind him, careful and sure. 

“Good morning, Master.” 

“Good morning, Theo.” Plo raised a brow, taking note of the bags underneath his padawan’s eyes. “It seems you’ve been here for quite some time, are you alright?”

“Physically, or emotionally?” Masking his problems with humor, a skill he had picked up from Obi-Wan. Guilt tugged at him again.

“You’re avoiding the question.” His Master’s tone was as sharp as durasteel. Theo cringed. Okay, none of those jokes today. 

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “It’s just...it’s not the right time to talk about it. We’re about to leave on a mission. It can wait.” Apparently, he hadn’t been as convincing as he’d hoped. Plo narrowed his gaze.

“Is it about your surgical scars? If they are giving you discomfort at this stage, we should--what is so humorous to you?” He planted his hands on his hips, astonished by Theo’s mirthful fit.

“My scars are fine Buir, thanks.” Theo’s lighthearted smile shifted, becoming serious. “Honestly, I’ve been having premonitions. I was planning on talking to you about them sooner rather than later, but I’m going to wait until after the mission to avoid distractions.” Theo gave Plo’s shoulder a reassuring pat, attempting to lift the mood.

“I see, I am relieved that your recovery is still stable.”

“Thank you.” Theo clapped his hands together. “Ready to go, Master Plo?”

“Yes. Have you gone over the plans?” The two Jedi boarded the ship, giving each of the pilots a wave before heading to the common area.

“Not very thoroughly, why?” He drew out the ‘y’ sound, skeptical of where the conversation was going.

“I figured that was the case.” Plo shot him a disapproving once-over. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be wearing your tunic.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Theo laughed nervously.

“You’re not going to be traveling as a Jedi. When we arrive on Alderaan, you will enter the Palace dressed as a pilot. I will leave Alderaan with Senator Organa’s security detail and a decoy, and you will depart with the real Senator. You will travel with him on civilian transport. Alone.”

“Shouldn’t you be the one going on the transport with him? I don’t think I’m suited for that kind of role.” The padawan scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

“No. Kel-Dor rarely travel beyond Dorin, my identity as a Jedi would be rather obvious, and his cover would be lost as well. As for your suitability, we have discussed this. You will be successful unless you allow your humility to become insecurity.” Plo ruffled Theo’s hair, at which the boy ducked away, grumbling in true disgruntled-teenager fashion.

------

This was it. Boredom had completely consumed him, and he was confident that it had been at least three days since they left Coruscant. He felt sluggish. Heavy, and like his soul was oozing out of every pore.

“Master, are we there yet? I’m dying over here.” Theo lay draped over his chair like a despondent child. The effects of his caf had long since worn off, leaving him with his unfiltered brain as his only escape.

“Not yet, we have about two and a half-hours to go.” Plo teased.

“Two and a half hours.” The boy groaned. 

“Your patience is lacking today, Padawan.”

“Well there’s nothing to do! We’ve been in space for over thirteen hours! Thirteen!” Theo threw his hands up. 

“You can meditate.” The Kel Dor chuckled. “It may help cure you of your boredom, or your lack of patience...” he paused “or perhaps you could gain some insight into your premonitions.” Theo blew a raspberry. He wasn’t going to waste his energy trying to fight this battle, Master Plo was probably right anyway--he always was.

“Maybe I can...” He plopped to the floor and sat cross-legged. Theo closed his eyes and breathed in slowly as he attempted to quiet his mind. It didn’t work. Too many thoughts. Head full. 

“Nope. Not today. Brain’s off the walls.” Theo leapt up and dusted his hands off on his thighs. 

“Padawan.”

“I can’t do it, Master.”

“Padawan-”

“It’s too much, I can’t not think.”

“Padawan! You do not have to bear your thoughts alone. Come, sit with me. We shall meditate together.” Theo caved in at his words, and the two Jedi settled to face each other on the floor. 

Theo closed his eyes again, and tried aggressively to will away the visions. 

“Well you’re certainly not going to make any progress in that manner.” Plo hummed. 

“Gee thanks, O Wise One.” Theo huffed and opened an eye to glare at his Master. “I’m fine.”

“Oh I’m sure. That’s why you’re so disagreeable. I was going to offer to help you, but if you don’t want it…” If Kel-Dor were physically able to do so, Plo Koon would have been smirking.

“I do! It’s just...” He sighed. “I’ve been a padawan for four years, I should be able to handle something as basic as meditation.” 

“One can struggle regardless of how much training they have had. I am offering to help you because you need it. Try to have a little more patience with yourself, and with me.”

“Alright, Master.” Attempting to relax for a third time, he felt as though he were laying on hot, itchy sand. 

“Allow the Force to surround you, allow yourself to become one with it.” He felt Plo’s presence at the edge of his consciousness, almost as if he were knocking to come in. Theo opened the door, lulled into a state of serenity by the fading voice of his mentor. Plo had been the only real constant in his life, an entity of stability and comfort. Theo wasn’t sure whether or not he was too attached to Plo. His mind wandered to Jango again. The Mandalorian was a loyal man, a good friend, and a comically incompetent guardian. The bounty hunter would often leaving Theo to await his return alone, stating that his destination was “no place for di’kutla little kids.” He would be gone for days. Or weeks. Or forever. Master Plo wasn’t like that. Since the moment Theo began learning at the Temple, Plo Koon had been by his side. For every stumble, error, hesitation, or lapse in judgement that Theo made, his Master had been there to balance him, steady, patient, reassuring and forgiving. Theo saw him as a father, and he wasn’t very subtle about it. 

------

Two years ago:

    “Kriff it all!” A powerpack and two hydrospanners clattered to the hangar floor as Theo threw the medkit back onto the tool cart.

“You cannot fix everything, little one.” Plo stood with his arms crossed, staring firmly at the petulant padawan before him.

“Well…” He scoffed, “I should be able to!” He angrily tore open the package with his teeth and wrapped the bacta patch around his finger.

“There will always be things that need fixing. Your work would never be finished.” Plo Koon had proved himself to be exceedingly tolerant. This was Theo’s fifth fit of anger this week alone, and most other Masters would have likely deemed him unfit for apprenticeship by now.

“What’s the point if I can’t do it? I’m worthless!” Theo growled.

“You are not. You are learning. Mistakes are opportunities for reflection and improvement. They are to be embraced.”

“But--”

“Theo, it does not serve you to be afraid of mere possibilities.” 

“But what’s the blasted point of even trying if I know there’s a mere possibility I’m gonna mess it up?” The boy wailed.

“That’s not certain, and if it was, it wouldn’t be the end of all things. It’s quite foolish to demand constant perfection of yourself. Your worth is not measured by what you accomplish.” Plo reasoned. Where is all of this suddenly coming from, he wondered. Is it something I said? No...I’ve been careful with him.

“But what if I do it wrong and it malfunctions? I don’t want you to die because of me! I can’t...I won’t...” He had done it again. Suddenly, Theo’s Jedi-issue boots were incredibly interesting. Had they always been brown leather? (Yes, they had.) The Code was the very first thing he learned, and somehow he managed to be painfully bad at following it properly. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no death, there is the Force. He was definitely in for it this time. Theo braced himself for a lecture, but was surprised to feel a gentle pressure on his shoulders when Plo knelt down in front of him.

“Padawan, look at me.” The Kel-Dor spoke softly. No response. He sighed. “Look at me. It is crucial that you know this.” The boy glanced up, just briefly enough to be satisfactory. “You are capable, clever, strong-willed, and kind. You will become a remarkable Jedi.” Theo nodded, posture softening. 

“Thank you.” He mumbled.

“I don’t expect you to properly repair a carbon compressor on your first attempt, especially not alone. And I trust your ability to correctly perform repairs that you are familiar with. Alas, you must learn them first.”

“Makes sense...I think I got caught up in everything I already knew.”

“It happens to all of us.”

“I’m sorry. I used you as an outlet, you didn’t deserve it.” Theo drew his lip between his teeth.

“I understand your frustration and you need not apologize further. Now, let us not linger on the past, we must finish fixing this carbon compressor.” Plo turned the boy around to face the ship. “This time, be sure not to tighten the bolt with too much force. That’s how accidents like this” he jested, pointing to Theo’s bandaged finger, “happen. The quartered socket spanner would also be a more suitable tool for this particular task, as the angle will give you better leverage.”

“Oh, that’s much easier. I see now! Thanks, Buir.”

------

The ship lurched, snapping the two Jedi out of their meditation, and Theo grumbled in protest. He rather liked that memory.

“Apologies for the disturbance, sirs, but we’ve entered the Alderaan system.” Captain Thorn’s voice crackled through the intercom, signaling their imminent return to duty.

“So Master, I know about the mission, but what about Senator Organa himself? What’s he like?” Theo hadn’t met very many politicians. He knew of Senator Padme Amidala from Anakin’s stories, and he had met Chancellor Palpatine on several occasions, but that was about it. 

“Senator Bail Organa is a just man. He is a pacifist with an affinity for ethics, I believe you’ll like him. Especially since he’s one of the people responsible for the Galactic Rights Bill.” Plo picked up his cloak and draped it over his shoulders.

“I’ve been really busy lately with my Shyriiwook comprehension exam coming up, and I kinda haven’t been paying as much attention to politics as I should, care to refresh me?” The padawan flashed a sheepish grin, provoking a weary sigh from the Kel-Dor.

“This Bill would safeguard an individual’s right to self-expression. It would be effective immediately, and has the power to overrule the local laws of star systems and planets. It is crucial for the safety of minority groups who may be targeted for superficial things such as appearance or use of a dialect. Those who would most benefit from this are religious groups and those with an atypical relationship to traditional social roles in their respective societies.”

“That last part sounds so...scripted. Was that a quote?” Theo asked, as the two began to make their way toward the front of the ship.

“From the Bill itself, yes. The section it belongs to was written by Senator Organa.” Plo explained.

“How is the Bill going to be effective? What kind of ‘targeting’ are we talking about? Harassment, refusal of service, homicide?”

“All, and more. However, the most pressing concern and reason for urgency lies in denial of medical care. Over the last several centuries, there have been an increase of differences in socio-cultural interpretations of identity across the galaxy. In some places, this is a catalyst for conflict and consequently, there have been a total of around five hundred cases across thirty-four systems just last year. One thing the Bill is designed to do is prevent governments or medical organizations from prohibiting access to medicine and care on the basis of these differences.”

“I see, and I take it that this is seen as a problem by some because they disagree with any views that differ from their own, or because of money.” Theo glowered. 

“As it is with most ‘debates’ on such things.”

“It’s cowardly.” 

“Indeed.” The door to the bridge slid open, and Theo’s chagrin was almost forgotten. Alderaan was beautiful. The city of Aldera sat nestled neatly in a valley and surrounded by tall, snowy peaks. It was exactly as described in the stories he’d heard from older padawans. 

“Wow, what a place.” He murmured.

“Right?” The co-pilot turned to flash the Jedi a grin. Theo nodded in agreement. She gave him a breathy laugh. “I’ve never been here either, I was just short of giddy when we heard what our next assignment would be!” He now understood what Master Yoda meant when he called all beings “luminous.” She certainly was. I’ll probably never see her again after this, that’s really too bad. 

“We’re approaching the city. Juno, prep the landing gear.”

“Yes, Captain!” She chirped. 

“Well Master, looks like I’d better get ready. See you shortly.” Theo didn’t wait for a response before he slipped back into the other room. When he returned a few moments later, his discomfort was visible. Plo restrained himself from poking fun at his student, but oh, he really wanted to. 

“Man, civilian clothes just don’t feel right.” The boy whined, tugging at the sleeves. Theo scrunched his nose in disgust when they didn’t loosen. “How long do I have to wear this?”

“Not long, we’ve arrived. Take your pack with you and remember, be subtle.”

[lowkey-lokis-bitch]

grief is not as heavy as guilt - bucky.barnes

pairing - bucky barnes x reader

warnings - a few curse words, violence, making out, general sad lmao

word count - 3063

a/n - look who finally wrote again? bitches i’m backkk. also pls send requests so i can be inspired to write lmao

Power vibrated throughout your body. The team watched diligently as the purple sparks erupted from your fingertips. Don’t think about them, concentrate. You forced your eyes open to aim your energy towards the mannequins at the other end of the hall. You felt your feet begin to leave the floor, and though it might try, gravity had no chance of pulling you back down. You sped up and across the hall, a faint purple haze trailing your body. You spun quickly, before ploughing your fist into the first dummy, sending it flying and bouncing off of the glass walls. You heard a communal exclamation from the team behind you as you landed on the floor, which fuelled your desire to impress them even further.

The second figure didn’t stand a chance as you leapt and roundhouse kicked it, leaving it in two pieces on the floor. You didn’t even turn to look at the final dummy as you lifted your hand behind you and blasted it, sending it smashing through the wall, a subsequent streak of coloured electricity humming in the air.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about that. I’ll pay for it,” Tony spoke, his voice loud enough for you to hear across the training hall. “Not like I pay for enough around here.” He trailed off before leaving the room, rubbing his forehead.

Your breathing began to slow as you regained your strength and stepped towards the remainder of the team. Sam looked at you with an impressed look plastered across his face, reaching out to give you a pat on the back as you passed him.

“Better every day kid,” he spoke, laughing as he turned to walk alongside you.

“Thanks Sam,” you said, looking up to give him a smile. Sam had become like an older brother to you during your time with the Avengers, there for you whenever you needed him. His intense sense of humour was highly useful during the dark nights, when the thoughts were too extreme to sleep. “You ready to take me on, yet?” “Damn, you know I’m getting too old for that. You need someone like Parker, or Bucky. I bet he could take you down with that metal hunk of junk,” he smirked, never dismissing an opportunity to give a dig in Bucky’s direction. You rolled your eyes in response, laughing quietly. Your relationship with Bucky wasn’t necessarily a secret, but you made a conscious effort to keep it separate from your work.

Taking a quick look around, you noticed that Bucky wasn’t in the training room. The team had split into two groups, with Steve, Nat, Wanda and Vision deep in discussion and Peter and Rhodey messing about with their suits. Tony had been locked in the lab for the past few days, so it was safe to assume that everyone’s equipment had received a serious upgrade.

“I think I’m gonna train a bit longer,” you stopped in your tracks, turning to face Sam. “But I’ll see you later? I think I’m gonna make pasta for dinner.”

“Ooh, you know I can’t miss your pasta,” Sam chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “Take it easy kid, you’ve worked hard today.” “Thanks,” you gave him a quick hug before jogging towards Steve. “Hey, can we spar?”

He wrung his hands, looking across at his teammates, “I think Wanda might be a better fit.” There was a long-running theory amongst the team regarding you and Wanda, and you were aware of some bets that were happening under the table concerning who would win in a battle between the two of you. Your powers shared a similar undertone, hers stemming from the Reality Stone and yours the Power Stone. You were already drowsy from your earlier training, but you knew that to keep up with the rest of the team you had to push yourself.

“You up for it?” you tilted your head towards Wanda, who seemed nervous yet confident.

“Sure,” the woman’s Sokovian accent bled through her speech. She had been training with Natasha to disguise her dialect for mission, but when she was with the team, she often fell back into her natural cadence.

You moved towards the centre of the room, stretching your arms and cracking your neck. Wanda shook her hands at her sides as she steadied herself across from you. You gave her a quick smile then turned to Steve, making sure that he was ready to pull you out if it got bad.

“Okay, rules. Play ‘til someone taps out. No extreme power usage, otherwise Tony will get pissed at us for breaking things.”

“Language,” Peter yelled out from behind Rhodey, fully using him as a shield if his joke went down badly.

Steve rolled his eyes before continuing, “If it gets out of hand, Rhodey and I are ready to step in. You good?”

I gave him a quick nod, Wanda doing the same. He held out his hands to gesture the start of the competition. You took a deep breath, your eyes focusing on Wandas. You thrust your hands out in front of you, a shield of purple streaks appearing between you and leapt into the sky. Wanda rocketed backwards, throwing her hands above her to raise segments of the floor into spikes. You swerved to avoid the stalagmites rising towards you and crashed to the floor, your fists pounding the concrete and sending out purple cracks. The rock around you crumbled and you could feel the power pulsating throughout your body. You could see the deep purple hue surrounding your body as you stood, then sprinted towards Wanda.

She met you on the ground, her eyes glowing a bright red and her fingertips sparking with flares. You threw a punch directed at her left shoulder, which she blocked and kicked at the back of your knee. You fell, but swung your feet to take her down with you. She landed on the floor with a thud, the air knocked out of her lungs. You stood quickly, preparinging yourself for a burst of energy, not noticing that Wanda had sent her hand towards you. You were thrown into the far wall with a flash and you tumbled to the floor. Whining, you lifted yourself onto your hands and knees and looked at the woman doing the same across the room.

You stood slowly, feeling the entirety of your strength flooding your body. Steve and Rhodey flashed each other a concerned look, before turning their gaze back to you. You didn’t care. All that you could focus on right now was the power coursing through your veins, and it needed an escape. You began to walk, before it became a run, and then you flew into the air at an increasing speed. Rhodey snapped his helmet on, having an idea of where this was heading. You weren’t in control of your own body at this point, you had no idea how to stop what was about to happen. This had almost happened once before, but Bucky had been there to help you, to talk you down from this place. He wasn’t here now.

You bulleted towards Wanda, screaming. Your hands were out in front of you, and you had one intent. Kill. You could see the fear in Wanda’s eyes as you got closer and closer, before Rhodey grabbed you around the waist, Steve grabbing Wanda. You flailed in his metallic grasp, desperate to release your power somehow. You flung your fists at his head, not feeling the pain as your knuckles ripped and became bloodier with every punch. You heard Rhodey grunting as he struggled to maintain his grip on you, and your power surged, further and further. Until it gave out.

Your left hand was warm, despite the rest of your body remaining at a normal temperature. You opened your eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the sudden light in the room. A figure was sat by your bedside, his hand overlapping yours. The dark mop of hair was comforting to you, and you moaned a greeting.

“Hey doll,” Bucky looked up at you, giving you a soft smile. “You’ve been out for a few hours. How are you feeling?”

“Not great to be honest,” your voice was croaky, and it was almost painful to speak. “I can’t remember anything, what happened?”

“Well, you were training with Wanda. She threw you, and you kinda freaked out,�� he spoke slowly. “Rhodey grabbed you and you passed out. They brought you straight here.”

“Is Wanda okay?” your voice wobbled, concern present.

“Yeah, just a bit shaken. I’m more concerned about you.”

“Baby,” you mumbled, feeling awful about what had happened. “I don’t know what it was, it’s like I wasn’t in control.”

“I don’t blame you, you’d been training for hours. You need to take a break sometimes babe,” Bucky’s eyes met yours and you could see the emotion swirling in them.

“If I have any chance of being able to go on missions with the team, I need to learn to control it. My power can help us-”

“But not if you won’t help yourself.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as a tear dropped onto your cheek. Bucky brushed it away with a finger and placed a delicate kiss to your lips. You opened your eyes to meet his, and he gave you a soft smile before kissing you again. You put your hands around his neck, pulling him towards you so that he was lying next to you on the bed. You flipped slightly so that you were able to place your legs across his, almost straddling him. Your tongues moved in sync, dancing and exploring each others mouths. You stroked his face, his scruffy beard tickling your beaten knuckles. You winced slightly, causing Bucky to pull away before you pulled him in even closer.

His hands roamed your back, pulling your hips to meet his. It wasn’t often that you got time alone during the day, and by god he was going to make the most of it. Your feet moved under the covers, brushing his and bringing a further sense of closeness. Bucky lightly scratched your lower back with his metal hand, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine and making you smile into the kiss. You trailed your hand along his shoulder and placed your other palm flush against his chest. After a few moments, Bucky pulled away, his breathing ragged.

“I love you doll, so much.”

“I love you too.”

The New York skyline was glittering as you stepped into the evening air. The team was out on mission, but Steve had decided that you were to be used as back-up, thus leaving you with the quinjet, waiting for a call. You paced back and forward, hearing crackles through your earpiece. Bucky checked in with you every so often, but it had been a while since you had heard his voice.

“Nat, where are you?”

“You see, there are a lot of aliens so I’m trying to deal with those at the minute.”

“Yeah, well, look to your right. There’s a lot more coming.”

You looked up to the dark sky and saw an immense ship descending towards the city. Before it had even reached the floor, there were masses of creatures jumping out of the doors to attack the population.

“Guys, I’m coming in,” you tried to sound assertive, before Steve shot you down.

“No, (Y/N). It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t care. I can help. I can stop this.” You levitated into the air, speeding towards the city at an incredible speed. You aimed for the ship, your fist out in front of you ready to strike. You shot through the flow of creatures, sending them flying. Bodies crumpled before you and you fired a blast from your fist into the crowd, killing hundreds of the slimy mutants.

“Baby, this is too dangerous.”

Bucky’s voice almost stopped you in your tracks, but you forced yourself to spin and throw an electric burst to the ship. It exploded into shards of metal, which rained down on the city, taking many of the creatures with it. You could feel the power rising again, and you knew this was going to end the same way it did when you were training. But you were their best chance at finishing this.

You turned and took off towards midtown Manhattan, leaving a purple haziness in your wake. You landed with a crash, sending sparks flying in a mile-wide radius. Creatures flew into the air, their bodies contorting and exploding. You glanced around and saw your teammates fighting off bodies, and being overrun by the sheer amount of them. You ran towards Clint and Natasha, doing a barrel roll into the horde of aliens drowning them. They flew, glowing purple before fizzling out. Your body began to glow a deep violet, your eyes the strongest, darkest shade. The sight caused the pair to take a step back before shouting quickly on their comms. You couldn’t hear anything other than the blood pulsing in your ears.

You flew into the air once again before focusing on Tony, Rhodey and Peter working together to take down a group of creatures. You shot towards them, hurling a ball of electricity into the crowd of aliens, leaving them disintegrated in piles of ash. Tony retracted his helmet to look up at you with concern, but you had already left, searching for the final 3.

Steve was fending off a gang of creatures with his shield, the constant ricochet of the vibranium weapon ringing in his ears. Sam was soaring above him, sending shots down and dropping various weapons into the masses of aliens. Bucky was close to Steve, sending bullet after bullet flying from the gun in his hand. You dove towards the faction of beasts, landing in a crouch. The concrete beneath you fractured and split, purple light weaving into the cracks. Every creature in the city flew into the air, erupting into a wave of purple flame. The power flowing through your veins didn’t cease, you felt it building and building. You glowed with a ferocity that had never been seen before.

Bucky stepped towards you, knowing he was the only chance at saving you from yourself. He dropped his gun and stood face to face with you. He searched your eyes for any sign of you, but all that he could find was the unlimited power coursing through your body. He reached his hand up to rest on your cheek, and a tear fell from your eye. You wished you could put your hand atop his, but you couldn’t control your body. It felt as though you were trapped in a shell, a shell that was hell-bent on destroying everything in its path.

“(Y/N)?” Bucky’s voice was soft, a sense of desperation clear.

You continued looking straight ahead, your breathing picking up. Your hands drew into fists at your sides, and your glow intensified. You wanted to warn Bucky, to tell him to move. But you couldn’t.

“I love you,” Bucky spoke, and you erupted.

Thud.       Bang.       Crash.

The dummy in front of you fell into pieces, and your fists ached from throwing punch after punch. Sweat dripped from your forehead as you looked at the ground, feeling as though you were going to throw up. Bucky had been asleep for 2 weeks, under constant supervision from Bruce and regular checks from Tony. You couldn’t bring yourself to see him, knowing that you put him there. Your lack of training had done that to him. Steve had become increasingly concerned about you, checking in with you a few times a day, until he couldn’t find you in your room. You were in the training hall. Always.

If you had trained harder, you would have been able to control it. Bucky would be okay, you would be happy together and everything would be okay. You cursed yourself once again before grabbing one of the multiple mannequins you had lined up along the wall. You placed three in various positions before steadying yourself at the opposite end of the wall. You breathed slowly, then sped towards them, your feet lifting from the ground. You plunged your fist deep into the first one, picking up the broken model and throwing it at the second. You leapt high into the air, summoning all of the power you could muster and aiming it towards the final mannequin. A blast shot through the air and split the dummy in two. You remained in the air for a moment before lowering yourself to the ground and shooting blasts across the room in pure frustration.

“Woah!” a voice called out from the door, and you spun quickly to see Bucky bruised and beaten, but alive.

“Oh my god,” you brought your hand to your mouth and tears pricked your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to sprint into his arms, but something made you hesitate. Guilt.

“Babe?” Bucky spoke again, walking slowly towards you. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, your voice cracking. You crumbled to the floor, partially from exhaustion but also from the sheer amount of regret for what had happened. “I’m so sorry.”

Bucky rushed to your side, cuddling you into him. You just rocked yourself and repeated your apology over and over again.

“Baby,” he spoke softly, a tear falling from his eye. “There is nothing to be sorry for. You saved all of our asses out there. You know that right?”

“But I almost killed you.”

“I’m still here. You didn’t think you were gonna get rid of me already, did you?” he smirked, but the underlying emotion remained on his face. “Why are you in here? You need to take a break doll.”

You tilted your head to look at him, tears streaming down your face, “You said it yourself. I saved you all, but if I’m gonna do it again I need to practise. How are they going to tru-”

“Screw them all,” his face turned serious. “Really. Fuck ‘em. I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you, but not as much as I do. Please. You need to look after yourself, if not for you, for me.”

Bucky pleading was enough to bring you to your knees, “I love you Bucky.”

“I love you too, doll.”

[egotheplanet]

To New Beginnings (Colossus x Reader)

Request: Could you pretty please do a colossus fic where reader and wade are super close friends, they go way back.. so wade calls her in for back up during a battle where wade, NTW, and Piotr are kinda getting their asses kicked. And reader is so badass and powerful and colossus has complete heart eyes @ her.

Warnings: Wade Wilson and depictions of violence

Word Count: 3,126

His heavy breathing echoed alongside the equally gasping (and comically dressed) heroes beside him. As cheesy as it sounds, they always knew how to come together and save the day! Even during last minute rescues, their rag-tag team pulled through. No matter the cost. The cost usually being a limb or two at Wades expense.

But this time, the tide seemed to be turning and it was clearly not in their favor.

Negasonic Teenage Warhead— or Ellie as everyone recently began referring— laid belly up a few feet away from him. Her skin was busted open above her brow and leaking blood at an alarming rate. Even the invincible Deadpool himself seemed to be twisted into a shape he couldn’t get out of without the help of his combustible friend. Yukio was still standing alongside the cyborg who was very enamored with the task of rebuilding his futuristic weapon. Domino had the beasts attention while the team quickly recuperated and came up with a new plan.

Colossus had to think. Fast.

His team was losing.

This wasn’t the first time they went up against the Juggernaut. No, they were seasoned fighters when it came to the big guy. This was the SECOND time their adversary had the severe misfortune of being in their sights. After the whole ordeal at the orphanage, the chosen family left hastily to revel in their triumph. But their one mistake came back to haunt them. They never caught and locked Juggernaut up. Upon hearing his havoc resumed soon after their departure, they felt responsible for his latest atrocities. This guilt plagued Colossus the most.

Earlier that morning

“This is what fighting dirty gets you!” His deep voice reverberated through the dining room as he strode in to interrupt everyone’s breakfast.

“Good morning to you too. What’s the matter? Out of tiny self help books?” Wade paused for a beat, slightly flinching as he awaited the clap-back. “Get it? Because you usually spend your morning meditating in your room— okay what’s wrong? You’re usually choking me by now.”

Colossus stomped over to the small television which sat atop the kitchen counter and pressed the power button. Blank static which signals the TVs awakening quickly fades out as the sound of a breaking news report becomes louder.

“The Juggernaut can now be seen stomping across the street and into the car dealership, ripping through anything in his way—“ the volume is cut off as Colossus presses mute and shifts to stand in front of the screen.

His arms cross in front of his chest and the team know they’re in for a lecture.

“The Juggernaut is loose because we did not complete job! It is our fault for fighting dirty and not putting him back in ice box where he belongs.” This inspires everyone to send accusatory looks to the red-suited trouble maker at the head of the table.

“He’s right, Wade. We were quick to fight and just as quick to get out. If we had tired him out with the help of the proper authorities, we could have gotten him back into custody.” Ellie’s calm but judging demeanor was starting to get under the mercs skin.

“And? Everyone got out in one piece!”

“This time.” Russell muttered into his spoonful of Cap’n Crunch.

“Hey!” Wade pointed a finger to the robust teen, “I thought we agreed to never bring that up again.”

“That is enough!” Everyone jolted and turned their attention to the most responsible of the team. “We have mission. Stop Juggernaut and put him back in the hands of the law.” Piotr turned the tv off as he began to head towards the kitchen. “Suit up! We leave in ten minutes.”

Current time

Domino slid beneath and between the behemoths legs in a final attempt to escape. Cain’s massive hand barely grazed her as she ran away. She was starting to feel like her luck was running out.

They’ve been fighting ‘clean’ for hours now and Wade’s patience was wearing thin. If they had just gone with what he suggested, they’d all be home now watching Cheers in their socks-n-crocs.

Luck can only carry the team so far when their exhaustion was growing stronger than their opponent. Unlucky for them, Juggernaut seemed just as energetic and deadly as usual.

Wade raised his recently freed hands in the air and clapped them together. He and Cable nodded at each other, clearly some sort of signal. Cable ran into action so the team could huddle and discuss what their next course of action should be.

Colossus opened his mouth to give orders but Wade beat him to the punch.

“I’m gonna call in reinforcements. This is our last chance to save the whole mission and our precious, precious bodies from being ripped in half.” His masked gaze traveled up from the dirt to Colossus. “Or at least save you from getting a dent you can’t buff out. Okay! Break on three and keep Fuckernaut busy till she shows up! Got it?”

Everyone exchanged nervous looks but their overwhelming exhaustion was offering no choice but to hear him out.

When have any of Wades plans ever worked out without someone dying? Colossus could count the occasions on one hand. Hell, half of one.

“No, we finish this right, Wade! No repeats of last time.” Colossus bargained and glanced up from their huddle to see Cable get knocked to the ground.

NTW piped up with her opinion after silently debating with Yukio. Just a look and Ellie could tell what her better half was thinking.

“Colossus. I think we should let him call this lady up. If she’s as helpful as he says, god knows we could use the help!”

“I agree with 2007 Brittany Spears!” Ellie scoffed at Wades latest nickname. “Okay, I’ll call Y/N while you guys form human shields for me! One.. two.. three! Break!”

Everyone ran into action as Wade nearly tripped up going the opposite way. He stumbled back onto his feet and dialed Y/N’s number.

He started bouncing on his toes after the fourth ring, fearing she wouldn’t answer.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Pick it up, god fucking damnit!”

“Couldn’t you start the call off with something nicer? Try, hey Y/N it’s been ages! How ya been-“ her voice sounded a little distorted over his phone but it was music to his ears.

“No time to flirt, we need you!”

“I’m guessing you’re talking about the whole Juggernaut situation downtown and not a threesome. God I hope it’s not a threesome.”

“Cute. But it’s the Juggernaut thing! How fast can you get here?”

“Put down the phone and get out of the way, knucklehead!”

It wasn’t until that moment that Wade realized she sounded like she was in a speeding car. He jumped out of her way, narrowly avoiding the grill it as it came honking past.

She beelined past the costumes and shifted her large truck into a different gear. Wades team quickly dispersed after gathering what was about to take place. The team had just enough time to throw Juggernaut off his rhythm, giving Y/N ample time to hit and drag him almost 200 feet. Jumping out her door at the last second, the truck slammed his body into the car dealerships outer wall. Her body rolled expertly and she sprung to her feet in no time to finish him off.

Everyone was shocked at this woman who came out of no where to defeat the Juggernaut!

“We aren’t done yet!” Her uniform was sleek and skin tight. Her voice was equally as intimidating as her driving skills. “His helmet needs to come off and we need someone to mentally attack him!”

“What, like, bully him?” Russell quipped as he got up out of the dirt, wiping his pants free of debris.

“No, lighter fluid-for-brains! She means we need Charles or another telepath to disable him so we can restrain him.” NTW quickly fired back at the young trainee.

“Whatever the fuck we’re doing, better do it fast. He’s getting up!” Cable was quick on his feet; backing up just in time to miss a large piece of, what used to be, Y/N’s truck which smashed into the ground in front of him.

“Charles isn’t anywhere close to us! It’d take forever for him to get here!” Yukio pointed out as her stance grew more rigid at the thought of possibly having to get close enough to the Juggernaut to take his helmet off.

“She’s right, our best bet is to just take him out physically.” NTW nodded at her girlfriend while everyone quickly weighed their options.

“Finally, I can fight him one on one to prove myself!” Wade pretended to stretch. “Hope no one takes this time to go ahead of me and totally steal my thunder.” He bent over to touch his toes.

Y/N kicked his butt with the tip of her shoe as she glared at him.

“Let’s go! If we work together, we can finish this once and for all!” Colossus’ voice thundered and Y/N’s gaze looked over to him.

He looked down at her and nodded as if to say ‘I’m with you.’

She nodded back to acknowledge him, the corner of her lips turned upward in a smirk.

Colossus ran past her to get the party started and her eyes were on his ass the whole way.

“I am so gonna climb him like a tree when we’re done here.” She mumbled before joining chrome bone in the fight.

“I am so wishing to never hear anyone say that again.” Russell cringed out loud.

“Agreed.” The team, including Wade, shuddered before beginning to sprint alongside each other to finish the fight.

One by one, everyone was thrown out of the way by Cain. Domino quietly made her way up to him from behind as Y/N held his front attention in the form of a jump-kick to the face.

He grunted and stumbled back into Dom, who had been holding one end of a long rope which was connected to debris on the ground.

Luckily enough, the jump-kick-into-rope combo worked out for the women stupendously.

Everyone watched in amazement as the monster collapsed onto the ground, his helmet popping in half so he was left with a giant metal choker. As he attempted to get up, Y/N sprung into action with a crowbar someone haphazardly tossed to her. She ran up to Juggernaut, catapulting herself into the air off of his groin and onto his chest where she began beating his face with the tool.

NTW communicated her next move to the team and ran up to Cable, jumping off his shield as a means of spring.

Domino and Y/N ran the other way, knowing what was coming their way. Just barely making it behind a few discarded car parts, NTW unleashed her power on the freshly exposed Juggernaut.

The explosion reverberated for a good few seconds before everyone jumped out of their hiding places to go assist in the end of the fight.

Cable, Deadpool and Domino shot into the smoke filled area where Cain previously laid taking hits.

Even Russell concentrated his devastating blows of force onto his once partner in literal crime.

Ellie had long since cleared out to the sidelines to be with Yukio, the blood on her forehead being gingerly wiped away.

“You did good, El.” Yukio held her girlfriend tight and planted a kiss against her sweat and blood smeared forehead.

Colossus walked over to the newcomer, offering his hand.

“My name is-“

“Colossus. I know who you are. Famous X-Men member and personal friend of a friend.” She cut him off with a smile, her hand meeting his halfway and giving it a firm shake, introducing herself.

“Ah, he is talking of me to others. All terrible I hope.” Piotr was... flirting?

If Y/N knew one thing about Wade, it was that he was a great liar. She should have known better when he told her that Colossus never flirted back or joked around. Wade said he was as uptight as he was shiny. She was pleasantly surprised by Wades lies for once.

“If you two are done gazing into each other’s eyes,” the pair looked over to see the smoke cleared, “Juggernauts out like a light.” Cables rough voice barked out. If they looked just a little bit closer, they would be able to see Nathan’s smirk.

The troops enforcing the Ice Box’ security came trotting in. Guns and power dampening collars at the ready.

“Perfect timing! Taking the credit after the fightings through, how convenient.” Wade jokingly complained as everyone finally got the chance to take a breather.

The team took this time to check one another for severe damage and ensure Juggernauts incarceration. After hours of fighting, it took minutes of the newcomers skill to confine the beast.

Color Colossus impressed. Color him extremely impressed. Both with Wade for knowing and calling on such a person but with Y/N herself for completing the task no one else could.

Later that night

Hearty laughter filled the dining room for the first time in weeks.

“She’s funny, you’re funny!” Wade jokingly swooned over his friend as she wrapped up her joke successfully.

Y/N laughed and shoved him slightly, his out of date Christmas sweater wrinkling against even wrinklier skin.  

“Well you get plenty of time to work on your joke delivery when you’re all alone.” She muttered almost bitterly to herself as she brought her wine glass to her lips.

“You’re lonely?” Piotr inserted himself into the duos conversation. Wades eyes widened and darted from Y/N to Colossus in disbelief.

“Uh, I think he meant to ask if you live alone. In a concerned, brotherly tone.” Wade was quick to get what Piotr’s was really laying down. Of course he had to be a wingman for his tall friend.

“Da, this is what I meant.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, sitting up straighter.

Y/N looked around at the people occupying the table. Russell was too busy chowing down on the spread she helped create to join into the discussion. Yukio and NTW were quietly having their own moment with one another at the opposite end of the long table. Cable listened in amusedly but kept to himself and his beer. Dom folded her hands together and put her elbows on the table, resting her chin atop her hands and offering her full attention.

“I mean, yeah I live alone but let’s not make the celebration into a pity party.” Y/N tried to steer the group back into its previous jesting mood.

“Right! So once there was this huge-“ Wade began but was abruptly interrupted.

“Well there’s plenty of space at the mansion for you! And room to practice your abilities.” Colossus quickly proposed to what was proving to be the newest member of their little family. “You can practice jokes with me instead yourself.”

At this point, all eyes were on the large man and all ears were in on the baffling exchange.

Piotr’s eyes were only on Y/N. Then everyone’s eyes shifted to her to hear her answer.

Wade laughed nervously in an attempt to break up the increasingly awkward atmosphere.

“Okay, that’s enough hazing Colossus. She’s had a long day. We all have.” Wade shoved some mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Actually, it’d be nice not to pay rent. New York is wildly expensive. And my monthly gym bill? Forget about it!” Y/N was much more inviting of the idea than Piotr could have ever hoped. “And if you’re my neighbor? I might as well move in now.” She winked at Piotr as she sipped her wine.

Everyone’s eyes shifted back to Colossus.

“What the fuck is going on right now.” Wade looked between the two as if he were a child and they were his parents hiding something from him.

“The fuck that’s going on right now is we have new X-Man!” Colossus puffed his chest out in pride as his hand slapped the top of the table out of excitement, everyone’s dishes rattling for a second before settling again.

Y/N’s smile was massive as she looked up at him, her glass held up to toast.

“I’d love to be a part of your team. If you’ll all have me.” She was suddenly shy as she sought approval from everyone. “I’ll only join if everyone is on board with the idea.”

Everyone continued their silent looks, no one wanted to go first. Wade happily accepted his turn for the spotlight.

“We’ve been friends since we were in the special forces together. You know my answers always going to be yes. Unless, you know, it’s to commit a horrible crime. Then it’s gonna have to be ‘only if you film’.” Wades smirk turned to a genuine and caring smile.

Y/N’s heart grew at his support. Her eyes shifted over to Cable.

“I was impressed with your initiative today.” Nathan grunted as he sat down his empty beer can. “It’d probably be a load off if you joined. I’m for it.”

Her excitement grew with the teams acceptance. She also poured the grumpy man a full glass of wine as a form of appreciation.

Cable nudged the young member beside him. Russell’s attention was already on the unfolding scene.

“If you’re a friend of Wade, you’re a friend of mine! Of course you can join our team!” He was beaming at the thought of another mentor. Hopefully this one was more responsible than Wade but not as uptight as Cable and Colossus.

“It’s already a yes from me and you know it.” Dom quickly interjected from her seat. Her smile was bright and her glass raised to her new friend.

Everyone turned to the lovers at the end of the table. They would make or break Y/N’s career as an X-Men.

“It’s nice to have another feminine face around here. ‘Furthers my petition to rename the team something more gender neutral.” Ellie pretended not to care very much. Yukio saw through her facade and so did everyone else at the table.

“Welcome to the team, Y/N!” Yukio cheered while looping her arm with Ellie’s.

Y/N’s eyes watered but no tears fell. Colossus once again made the right choice and this time it was to expand the family.

“Jeeze, every time you’re left alone Wade, you bring someone else to live with us.” NTW joked comfortably.

“I promise to do my best to be an upstanding member of your team. Better yet, I’ll do my best to be an upstanding member of your family.” Y/N vowed to the table.

“You already are.” Piotr stood and smiled warmly down at her, his glass joining everyone else’s in the air. “To new beginnings!”

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Episode 2

Last time, on PMMM: *Awesome music* “I am Mami Tomoe. And these… are my weapons.” “That’s right, I’m a middle-school magical girl, and I’ve got enough firepower to outfit the Union. Haters gonna hate.” Ooh, phrasing here. “I am one who has made a contract with Kyubey - a magical girl!” So in this show all magical girls makes contracts with Kyubey, no-one else has the power? That implies Homura did so as well. So why was she attacking him? Whoa, alarm clock! Sleepy Madoka waking up again, same as last episode. Was it just another weird dream? Nope, Kyubey’s here to say good morning!... how long have you been sitting there? Same intro as last time, now I have a name for all the characters! Wait, hold up, there was a quick shot of a redhead in the slice-of-life segments. Another character? Episode 2: That Would Be Truly Wonderful

Madoka and Mother are getting ready, when Mother asks about Madoka coming home late, is remarkably chill about Madoka being out. “Just let us know where you are before dinner”? Pretty lenient for a middle-schooler.

Daw, Kyubey’s hanging out in a heated sink or something, that’s adorable. Huh, I was wondering if Madoka was going to have wacky hijinks explaining her new Rabbit-Thing pet to her parents, but apparently only magical girls (or potential magical girls) can see him. Now Madoka’s thinking about her and Sayaka visiting Mami’s place, and damn that’s a nice apartment. Wait, you live here alone? Aren’t you a middle schooler? “Don’t have much to offer as refreshments”? If you consider tea and cake to be ‘not much’, I am insanely jealous. Exposition time! Mami shows her golden egg thing from last episode, which is apparently a Soul Gem. A byproduct of Kyubey making a contract, it’s the source of their magic and proof of them being MGs. Madoka echoes me about whatever this contract thing is, and Kyubey says that he will “grant you any one wish - any wish you desire!” So Kyubey’s a genie? Anything more concrete than “I can grant you even the most impossible of miracles”, some provisos or quid pro quos?

Well, whatever the rules, the Soul Gem is created in exchange for a wish. And those with Soul Gems are duty-bound to battle witches. I assume the thing that they encountered last episode? Out of the flashback and back to the bathroom, Madoka asks Mother a ‘hypothetical’ question about what she would wish fo- Mother cuts her off with a wish to kick two trustees out of the company. Sound like someone’s given this some thought. Mother goes on to say that the CEO should probably retire, but when Madoka mentions off-handedly that maybe she should become the new CEO Mother goes into full strategy mode, reviewing her allies for a power bid. Madoka is as intimidated as I am. Back to exposition, a witch is described as a creature born from curses. Magical girls spread hope, witches spread despair. Furthermore, witches are invisible to regular humans, so we don’t even know they’re around causing trouble. Mami confirms that witches are behind many of the inexplicable bad things that happen in the world. And more than being invisible to humans, witches hide out in labyrinth, like the trippy scenery that Madoka and Sayaka ended up in last episode. So if MGs come from wishes and witches from curses, and Kyubey grants wishes to recruit MGs… does that mean there’s something out there that gives curses to create witches? A sort of anti-Kyubey? Wow, getting heavy here, Mami’s talking about how she fights these witches at the risk of her own life, and cautions the two about becoming MGs. They have the opportunity to have ‘any’ wish granted, “But remember that that wish lies side-by-side with death.” ...Grim. And I don’t know, but the way I see it they’re already at risk, apparently being potential MGs means that you can see witches anyway, so right now all they could do is see what’s actually going on but not be able to do anything. If the monsters are coming after them regardless wouldn’t it be better to have the power to actually defend themselves, and others? Frankly the wish seems superfluous alongside the protection of these powers. Sayaka says that this will be a tough choice, and Madoka is just silent. Mami offers to take them along to a few witch hunts, so they can see it first-hand. And so they can think carefully about if there’s something they want enough to put them in danger. ...but they’re already in danger! These witches are already out there, causing suicides and murders! Forget the vague wish, focus on the power that could defend yourselves and your families! Why is this not a bigger thing? 

Later that morning, Madoka is catching up to Sayaka and Hitomi, and Sayaka freaks at seeing Kyubey perched on Madoka's shoulder. Hitomi is very confused, given that she's a Muggle and can't see the familiar. Sayaka tries to brush it off and move on, then gets further freaked when Madoka telepaths to her. Huh, so they already have some powers before making the contract? Nah, Kyubey's just acting as a Familiar Fone. Hitomi is feeling very confused now, as this whole conversation is happening where she can't hear. All she sees is her friends staring at eachother- oh. Oh no. Hitomi, stahp. Stop talking. Madoka, saying "a lot of things did happen last night" is not helping. Aaand Hitomi's running off crying about how they're both girls. Oh dear. And here I (and Madoka) thought that Sayaka was the resident shipper, looks like cultured Hitomi has her own chart. Back in class, Madoka and Sayaka are trying to 'explain' to Hitomi before they sit down (given Hitomi's bearing, I don't think they succeeded), Sayaka brings up a good point: Mysterious Transfer Student Homura is in their class, should Kyubey really be in blasting range? Kyubey counters with the fact that Mami goes there as well, and hello Mami! Seems that she's part of the group think as well. Wait, is this a general magical girl thing that Homura could cut in on, or only between the three girls and Kyubey? In any case, as creepy as Homura can be, she probably won't start fighting in the middle of school. "Speak of the devil" indeed, Sayaka, here she is. Well, she just sat down, and apart from a hair-swoosh and glance at Madoka holding Kyubey- wait, scene transition. Flashback to the apartment and Mami's soul gem, it's confirmed that Homura is a magical girl like Mami, and that she's fairly powerful. But as for her going after Kyubey, it seems that she was trying to prevent another magical girl contracting. Mami says that it's common for MGs to fight with each-other, as defeating a witch can give rewards. (So it's like a MMO, players in general fighting against the world's monsters but competing with each-other for the loot? Nominally they're all on the same side, but good luck when the the Devout Shoulders drop) Ooh, Mami just magicked her gem to turn into a ring, that's a neat way to have it ready to use. Back to the school, Homura is still staring, Sayaka promises to punch the girl who can shoot lasers from her hands and presumably survive fighting witches if she tries anything. You’ve got guts Sayaka, but maybe discretion is the better part of valor here. Mami agrees, in that she’s there so they’ll be fine. Sorry Sayaka. Here we have a language lesson, and get to see the character’s attitudes: Madoka is dutifully taking notes (when she’s not looking at the Familiar-Hunter seated two rows up), Homura is looking straight ahead, Sayaka is falling asleep, Kyubey is completely asleep, and Madoka finds this most amusing. Oh, never mind, it’s less ‘dutifully taking notes’ and more ‘sketching out MG designs’. Up on the rooftop, Madoka’s sharing her lunch with Kyubey when Sayaka asks if Madoka’s come up with a wish yet. So the wish comes before the contract, or can it be deferred? Turns out neither of them have thought up a wish yet. Well, there are things that they want, but huh Hmm. That’s actually a really mature way to look at it: “what do I want that’s worth risking my life for.” I’m still hung up on the fact that they are defenseless against these witches right now, but I can see their point. (Post-episode note: comments on Pt 1 and talking with Tephi have helped to clarify this further. I mean, it’s one thing to know that the danger is out there, it’s another to actively seek it out to destroy it. It’s like how a firefighter has the capability to protect their own home from a fire, but they also have to use the capability to seek out and stop other fires, not just ones affecting them.) Props on our main characters acknowledging that they live pretty decent lives already, and there’s nothing personal worth risking themselves for. (Post-episode note: And yeah, I still think there’s an element of ‘serve the greater good’ in getting these powers to protect those who can’t use them, but they are only middleschoolers after all. Things that risky should really be left to professionals, it’s a lot to ask of children.) Further props that they have lived privileged lives, given that there are other people who would willingly take the risk for a chance to make a personal change. Wait, flash of a dark room, person looking out a window? Someone you know, Sayaka? Well, that’s enough philosophical discussion in our magical girl show, let’s move on! Sudden appearance by Mysterious Transfer Student Homura, she’s walking towards the girls and Kyubey while Mami is watching from a nearby tower. And based on that glance I think that Homura sees her. At least she isn’t resuming her attack from yesterday. She’d hoped to kill it before it made contact with Madoka, but given the Protagonist is holding the Familiar in her arms that clearly didn’t work out. She certainly seems interested (or as interested as she gets) in whether the girls will become MGs. But when Sayaka basically tells her to shove off, she reminds Madoka of yesterday’s warning and leaves. ...sure, that’s going to help, Mysterious Transfer Student. Remind the girl that you threatened her friends and family yesterday, that’ll definitely keep her from accepting an offer of power and a wish (“I wish that that creepy girl would not hurt those I care about.” Boom, danger averted.) Still, Madoka wouldn’t be the Kind and Loving Protagonist that she is without extending an olive branch, so she asks what Homura wished for when she became a MG. Homura stops, turns… then walks away. Guess we’ll have to wait a few episodes to find out whatever it was. (My money’s on “I wish to become a powerful magical girl” or something like that.) End of school day, Hitomi’s grabbing her bag when the girls arrive and say they have a few ‘errands’ to run, so… Yup, Hitomi’s jealous, thinks she’s a third wheel. Basically runs off crying “NOTP! NOTP!” Aw. Meanwhile Homura’s asked by some other girls about getting coffee, she claims that she has urgent business as well. I’ve got a bad feeling, is she going to try and attack again when there are no witnesses? Flute music! Mami’s giving Lesson 1 of “A Day in the Life of a Magical Girl”. More exposition! Sayaka’s come prepared, with… a baseball bat. Not sure how much use that’ll be against the magical monsters, dearie. But at least she brought a weapon, Madoka brought her sketchbook. Good enthusiasm, Madoka, but maybe you should design the costume after you get your powers. Poor Madoka. Mami is now tracking the magic of yesterday’s witch, I guess that Homura didn’t catch it after all. Now to scout the city on foot! Sorry Sayaka, not everything can be exciting as a witch battle, you’ve got to get there first. The trails a bit cold right now, but Mami thinks it was better to let it go and take care of the two girls post-labyrinth. Madoka apologizes, Sayaka just calls Mami an Ally of Justice. But she’s still confused about Homura. (As am I.) Madoka’s just wondering if she is really a bad person. Our all-loving hero, everyone. Calling it now that she’ll teach Homura the power of Friendship. Person awkwardly walking? Into a ruined building? Mami’s giving more exposition, on how witches can be found around areas of misfortune like car crashes and deadly accidents. So that means the middle schoolers will be checking in high-traffic streets and in the Red Light District. Um. Ok, you can also look in obscure places where people might attempt suicide. Uh oh, cut to the walking lady going up some stairs. You might want to hurry, girls. And yeah, a witch and a hospital sounds like a very bad combination. Ooh, gem’s reacting, they’re almost there. Yup, lady is at the top of the building. Hurry… Look up look up look up there, Sayaka saw her! And oh crap she jumped they were too late look out- oh hey, Mami did a speedy transformation this time and summoned some ribbon-things to catch the lady, she’s safe! Phew, that was way too close. Tattoo? Witch’s Kiss? Well, Mami says she’s fine, so they’re going to hurry in and catch the witch. Music’s picking up again as they run in (Sayaka with bat at the ready), and a butterfly gate opens up. Mami then enchants Sayaka’s bat, hopefully it’ll help. Into the labyrinth, stick close to Mami! And Homura’s arrived. What are you up to? Back to the land of Creepy Puffballs, Mami’s summoning rifles and blasting away while Sayaka swings wildly and Madoka’s carrying Kyubey. I’m thinking the enchantment was less about giving the bat more hitting power and more creating these shields or whatever to protect the non-MGs present. Aw crap, one creep just reformed behind the two never mind Mami’s got it. Madoka’s just looking on in amazement as Mami is owning these creeps. She’s scared, but… hmmm, seems Madoka’s found someone to look up to. They’re almost at the center of the labyrinth, Mami’s got no time for the Scissor Puffballs guarding the door. Here they what the ok I guess they’re through and that… thing… is the witch. Ooh, driving music! And freeze frame with title that I can’t read, is that the witch’s name? Mami casts a barrier to protect the girls, and down she leaps! Step on tiny flying thing with really seems to tick the witch off, Mami just curtsies and summons her first (of presumably many) rifles. Magical Girl vs Witch fight! Big witch is flying around surprisingly fast, Mami just uses her beret to plant a bunch of rifles around her and starts blasting away. Eat exploding bullets, monster! Wait, the tiny mustached flying things are swarming around her now, turned into a whip and grabbed her, threw her into the wall. No fair! Mami, Mami please get out of there, you are clearly not fine. Wait, light coming out of the ground? Did you shoot ribbons into the ground or something. Well, whatever’s happening, the witch is pissed, just unfolded jebus into something with way too many scissors and a butterfly for a face. Oh sweet, the ribbons wrapped it up! Mami cuts the whip and what. What. Ok then. So I know I made that joke last part comparing Mami to the heavy, “and these are my weapons.” I am happy to say I was wrong. Those were not her weapons. This is her weapon. That is not a gun. That is not a cannon. This “Trio Finale” is an artillery piece. Holy crap. She just blew the witch away with a single shot. And she lands with a little twirl and drinks some tea. That… that was beautiful. Wow. Ok, enough hero worship for Mami the Destroyer. With the obliteration of the witch, the labyrinth has collapsed, and the magical girl picked up a small black ornament. Mami identifies it as a grief seed, says that it is a witch’s egg. So you’re going to destroy it? Why is it lucky to find one after a battle? Oh, Kyubey says they’re safe, and valuable because… they clear up Soul Gems? Oh, they restore magic used in fighting witches. So they ‘upgrade’ soul gems, increase their mana capacity or something like that. Ok, I can see why this would be considered a reward, if by killing a witch a MG increases her power that would definitely be valuable. No wonder Mami said MGs fight. Wait, why did you just throw away the magic-boosting dealie? Is it a one-time use thing? Wait, someone caught it. “Should be good for one more use?” Oh hey Homura, nice of you to show up after the witch was fought. What, do you follow Mami around and pick up her used Grief Seeds instead of hunting witches yourself? Huh, never mind, Homura tossed it back, said it was Mami’s kill. And ooh, that was Mami offering to team up with Homura and the Mysterious Transfer Student rejecting the offer, wasn’t it? (Homura. Homura, we just saw Mami destroy a witch with a single shot. Maybe that’s someone you don’t want to insult, hmmm?) Homura walks off, Sayaka takes offense in place of Mami, and Madoka’s just sad that Homura doesn’t want to be friends. Sorry Madoka, but I don’t think someone who threatens your family and tries to kill Familiars is a good friend for you. Give it a few episodes so she can see how effective a group of an Artillery-wielder, someone with a Magic Bat, and the Protagonist can be when they work together. Hey, the jumper from earlier is waking up, doesn’t seem to know where she is. Aaand there’s the memories back. Aw, Mami’s comforting her, seems she was under the witch’s influence after all. Looking on, Madoka’s still not sure what to wish for, but seeing Mami fighting to save people… Aw Madoka, “even someone like you”? You’re the Protagonist, you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for! Give it some time, you’ll be blasting witches with the best of them before long. And it is really mature of you to focus on using your powers for good. Seriously, it’s nice to have a character who thinks just being able to help people “would be truly wonderful” (title drop!). Awwww. That was a really sweet episode. Ok, let’s recap as the credits roll. We got some good exposition on the world and rules, some parts I’m still vague on but I guess I’ll get some more answers later. Madoka and Sayaka are still not magical girls, but when they work out their wishes I can’t wait to see them come into their own. Mami, holy crap. I knew you were powerful after the Armory Attack last episode, but this one? “Trio Finale” is incredible! So do MGs get a named Super Attack sort of thing, and if so what will Madoka and Sayaka get? Sayaka’s “Super Swing” with her bat? Madoka’s “Pink Storm” with whatever her weapon is? (Calling a classical MG wand or tiara now). We got some answers about Homura this time, but I’m still not sure what her end goal is. She doesn’t want competition, based on her trying to kill Kyubey, and she doesn’t want to work with others, based on her rejecting Mami’s used Grief Seed. But what do you want, besides to become stronger without “sharing” the rewards with others? (Post-episode note: It was a little while later that I came up with the “Homura summons the Flying Thing from the vision to try and get a Super Grief Seed” theory posted on pg 11). Episode preview- uh, why is there some dude in a Mad Max-ish faceplate in the picture? Anyways, dialogue: Mami says she only pretends to be cool (Mami, you can summon artillery. You are absolutely cool) and pushes herself hard. But… aw, you don’t have anyone to talk to? Yeah, I guess when your only counterpart is Homura the Mysterious you don’t really have deep conversations. Aw, don’t cry, Mami. Now you have two new friends! Yes, we’ve seen that being a Magical Girl can be risky, but train up these two and I know you’ll be an amazing team! See, you just need some friends to help with the burden. “I’m not afraid of anything anymore.” 

[pass-the-bechdel]

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Thor: Ragnarok (2017)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

No.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Four (23.52% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Thirteen.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Film Quality:

Loads of fun, though tonally dissonant; works best on first viewing. Easily the superior film of the Thor franchise, though that’s not a huge achievement considering its predecessors.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Sigh.

Female characters:

Hela.

Scrapper 142 (I know, she is credited as Valkyrie, but since the name is never used to address her in the film it doesn’t count by the rules of this blog; if she didn’t happen to be referred to by her scrapper number a few times, she wouldn’t count as a named character at all).

Topaz.

Natasha Romanoff.

Male characters:

Thor.

Surtur.

Skurge.

Loki.

Stephen Strange.

Odin.

Volstagg.

Hogun.

The Grandmaster.

Carlo.

Korg.

Bruce Banner.

Heimdall.

OTHER NOTES:

The use of Immigrant Song is my favourite thing about this movie, to be honest. I don’t mean that as an insult, it’s just such a good choice.

The inclusion of Doctor Strange in this film feels like a pointless misstep, a distraction at what is really a vital early point in establishing tone, especially considering this useless scene is what leads us in to...

...the literal death of Odin and introduction of Big Bad Hela, all of which should be emotional and intense and is instead flat and dissonant in the extreme. Watching this for the first time, I was very concerned that the whole film was just gonna end up gimmicky and soulless. While it does pick up, I was also not wrong about that early assessment.

Not that I was attached to Thor’s friends from the previous films, but they sure do just kill them off without fanfare, except for Sif who just doesn’t appear at all (logically, we should assume she dies off-screen, otherwise there’s no reason for her not to be up-front with Thor at the end of the movie). Fandral doesn’t even get a line in before he croaks, that’s how irrelevant these franchise-veteran characters are. Emotional engagement in plot and character is for chumps, anyway.

*whispers* Jeff Goldblum is here.

“Piss off, ghost!”

Hulk reveal is pretty solid, if you manage not to have been spoiled (a tall order, since it was in the promos).

Heimdall is still the MVP of the Thor franchise.

Can’t believe it took this long for any movie to squeeze some real fun and heart out of the Hulk character. This is way better than embarrassingly forcing a love match on him.

The valkyrie-battle memory is soooo good-looking.

This movie is too recent to be using the word ‘gypsy’...

Thor’s story about Loki pretending to be a snake when they were kids is the good shit.

But, Immigrant Song is still the most inspired choice of the film. Not sorry.

So, this is one of those movies which I felt was pretty over-hyped, to be honest. It is great fun, don’t get me wrong, it’s fresh and hilarious and subversive and way the Hell better than the previous Thor films, plus it has a great cast and strong visuals and they used Immigrant Song really effectively...but the tone of the film is an absolute fucking mess, the plotting is a shambles, and there’s nowhere near as much heart and weight underpinning it all as what there should be for a movie involving the near-total destruction of an entire civilisation. The majority of the movie is handed over to a shenanigan-heavy side-plot of no consequence to the central conflict, while the central conflict - LITERAL RAGNAROK - is relegated to a handful of scenes sprinkled across the film, obliterating any chance of it seeming meaningful or even particularly serious. The strongest point of the story is the final act, once Thor and company finally get to Asgard to confront Hela, but the narrative doesn’t earn that strong finish; it just goes to show how much more engaging the rest of the film could have been if they had stayed on track.

This is a big part of why this movie - while a delightful surprise on first viewing - doesn’t age particularly well on repeat; this was my fourth time through, and by the third quarter, as Sakaar draaaagged through its roster of jokes and pratfalls, my attention span was waning fast. Even if the entire garbage-planet sidebar was not distracting from what should have been a very serious main plot, I’m not sure it would remain engaging long-term, since it is rather spare and low on emotional/character investment; it’s not a pitfall of comedy that has to exist (heavily-emotional and/or dark comedies are definitely a real thing), but unfortunately, this is not a movie that is very interested in what has come before it, and it expresses that disinterest by neglecting any element of the established Thor mythology which might have brought this plot a sense of meaning. As such, rather than feeling like ‘the Thor movie that finally got it right’, it’s more like a reboot, with old characters unceremoniously ditched and any sense of purpose or import in old story threads or histories gone right alongside Asgard itself.

I’ve seen people praise this film for its ‘anti-Imperialism, anti-colonialism’ message, but I feel it’s a point weakly made onscreen; any depth to that argument would require a more sincere effort from the script in addressing those scant Asgard scenes, and as such, I feel that this element - though it isn’t completely wishful thinking - is much more in the eye of the beholder than it is a function of the narrative itself. The attempt to engage with any thoughtful discussion on Asgard’s legacy is a swift casualty of the film’s overall superficiality, just the same as the devastation of Asgard and the decimation of its population is blithely underplayed because, hey, Thor vs Hulk is worth way more attention than genocide, right? It’s that tonal dissonance in the two pieces of the plot which keeps me from really relaxing and enjoying the lightness, because that lightness is both excessive and out-of-place; I feel uncomfortable being asked to just shrug and go with it, I want to be emotionally involved and moved by the plight of the Asgardians, and instead I’m stuck watching Thor get a haircut and an eyeful of Hulk dick. Under almost any other circumstances, I would be all about a hard-comedy version of Thor, especially after the generic drudgery of the earlier installments in the franchise, but at the same time as Ragnarok? Not so much.

That said? This film is definitely not without quality. Comedic quality, for sure (anything with Taika Waititi’s name attached is worth a look), and there really are some great casting flourishes (though I maintain disappointment that the Asgard plot is so undersold, because it means Karl Urban and especially Cate Blanchett are under-utilised); for the interests of this blog, it’s that Scrapper 142 aka Valkyrie who forms the highlight (and she’s a worthy highlight without the context of this blog, too). Valkyrie’s drunk, angry sauntering and her snappy disregard for Thor’s righteous pontificating positions her within an archetype normally restricted to male characters only, too loose and unseemly for a female character, who might be found dislikeable and (horror of horrors) too sloppy to be sexy, whereas a man in the same archetype is funny, a ‘lovable asshole’, and the perception of his appearance is not tied up in his behaviour the same way nor is he under the same pressure to prioritise his appeal for the audience in the first place. Angry male drunkards who begrudgingly tag along with the protagonist in the end because they’re surly but not bad, those are a dime a dozen, but a woman in the same position? A rare gem indeed. And Valkyrie is more than just a fresh twist on an old cliche; her personality is grounded, it has a relatable simplicity (disillusionment with a side-order of survivor’s guilt), and there’s a confidence about the way she and the unspoken parts of her life are presented, without need to force a connection with Thor and his personal plight in order to justify Valkyrie’s actions or relevance to the plot. She’s an entirely self-contained character who could just as easily have the story to herself with no further mention of Thor et al., and that’s the hallmark of any well-constructed character: the ability to stand alone.

As a whole, this movie is far from bad - when I call it overrated, I am very much talking about the fact that it’s mostly a string of shenanigans with minimal narrative underpinning, and while that’s not a terrible thing in itself, I do think the hype around this movie implied that it had something more to offer than just laughs and a retro look. For me personally, the lack of emotional engagement and character stakes is close to a fatal flaw, and so while I enjoy this movie on a superficial level, it gives me nothing I need in order to really dig it (for others, obviously, this is not a problem). It always rubs me the wrong way to see something completely disavow previous chapters in the same story - there’s a big difference between developing an idea in a new direction, and simply ditching whatever you didn’t like about what came before - and I would have preferred to see this film make its changes with at least a modicum of respect for the foundations it is building upon (basic as the previous Thor films were, they weren’t catastrophic embarrassments). And yes, ultimately, the burying of the Ragnarok plot under a pile of Planet Garbage (feat. Jeff Goldblum) is just a little unforgivable in my mind, and it’s the first thing I think of whenever this film pops up; I really, really wish that Ragnarok were not part of this plot at all, that the Sakaar part of the story (i.e. the part that The Powers That Be were actually invested in, clearly) formed the bulk of the second film in the Thor franchise instead, since that movie basically sucked and took itself too seriously, and then the Thor film which took itself seriously could have been actually about Ragnarok. Basically, I wish that Marvel had gotten their shit together sooner rather than later with this part of the franchise, because while this worked out fine for them monetarily, narratively it’s just not a step I can get behind.

[fangirlfiction]

Out of Time [3]

iii. the grim reaper

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: 550 days after Bucky Barnes shipped out from Brooklyn, he gets reunited with his girl on a battlefield in Azzano.

Warnings: Lots of blood, death, injuries, and explosions. Very battle heavy. Also there’s some language in there.

 A/N: Part 3 has arrived, and it’s an angsty one! Thank you to my angel Attie for correcting my grammar (@barnesrogersvstheworld) and for being the legit best bff in the world. Please let me know what you think about this chapter! I did a lot of battle related research to try and write a realistic depiction of WWII. Hopefully I did it some justice. Check my endnote for more information.

eta: the masterlist for the series will be in the comments until tumblr fixes the link issues.

October 8, 1943

You reach into the truck and grab a bag of supplies before turning and tossing it to Attie, who turns and tosses it down the line. You repeat the process, unloading the truck as quickly as possible, under orders to get the medical tent up before the wounded arrive. You are closing the back doors of the truck when a runner for one of the officers comes running your way, yelling. “Chief nurse, I need the chief nurse!”

You turn and yell out, “I’m here!”

He salutes you, and launches into his message, still breathless from the run. “The 107th is nearby and in need of medical supplies. Captain Taylor asked you to prepare a truck to be taken out.”

“The 107th?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Your breath stutters and you ask, “Who’s taking the supplies?”

“One of the ambulance drivers, ma’am.”

You shake your head. “I’ll do it.”

The runner looks at you in confusion. “Ma’am? Are you sure?”

“Yes. Tell Captain Taylor I’ll personally deliver the supplies.”

“Yes ma’am.” He salutes you before running off to deliver your message.

-

The sound of explosions grows louder as you near the drop off point for the medical supplies, and you can hear the cries of injured men as they become victims of the war. You pull the jeep to a stop at the designated drop off zone, eyes searching the trees for the soldier who was supposed to meet you. You hear a rustling in the trees in front of you, and you pull out your sidearm, aiming at the sound. Just as you’re about to shoot, a soldier bursts through the tree line, frantically whispering, “Reaper, reaper, reaper.”

Recognizing the code, you sigh in relief and reply, “Grim.”

He lowers his weapon and you lower yours before hopping out of the jeep and nodding at him in greeting. He eyes your uniform and asks, “You a nurse?”

You nod your head as you pull the packs of supplies from the back, “I’m the chief nurse.”

“We’ve been under heavy fire for a week, and our medic got killed two days ago, leaving us with untreated wounded. No one will evac them out. Do you think you could take a look at a few of them?”

You toss him a bag of supplies and reply, “Of course.” You gesture towards the path he took to get here. “Lead the way.”

You follow behind the soldier quietly, weapon drawn and on alert. As the sounds of the front grows closer, you ask, “Do you know Sergeant James Barnes?”

The soldier turns to look at you. “Bucky? Yeah, I know him.” He glances at you again, scrutinizing your features. “You’re not Red, are you?”

You smile. “I am.”

The soldier laughs in disbelief. “No way, He’s gonna be happy to see you.”

“So, he’s alive? He’s okay?”

The soldier laughs again. “Yeah, he’s okay. Never shuts up about you though.”

You smile and the soldier adds, “I’m Gabriel Jones, but everyone calls me Gabe.”

“Nice to meet you, Gabe.”

More explosions ring out in front of you, so close that you can feel it in the ground beneath your feet. Gabe stops walking and explains, “I’m gonna take you to the fox hole where we left most the wounded, see what you can do there. I’ll go find Barnes and the others and bring them to you.”

You nod and follow Gabe through the trees and onto the battlefield, bobbing and weaving between fox holes and missing chunks of blown up land. He finally stops by a fox hole and you slide into it, immediately busying yourself with the wounded. Gabe runs off with an “I’ll be back.”

You bandage the wounds of the men, giving morphine to the most severe cases, saving the rest for any others you might come across. You just finished bandaging a bullet hole on a soldier’s calf when you hear an explosion and an immediate cry for a medic. You peek over the edge of the fox hole, locating the source of the cry not far from where you are. The man’s screams are broken, loud. You know he is suffering.

You turn to the soldier next to you. “If Gabe Jones or Sergeant Barnes comes looking for me, tell him that I’m going to the foxhole right there.” You gesture to it and he nods.

Taking a deep breath, you climb out of the foxhole and onto the surface, immediately jumping to your feet and running to the sound of the soldier’s cries. Just as you reach the edge of the hole, a grenade lands inside, killing the soldier instantly. The force of the explosion sends you flying through the air and onto the ground, ears ringing loudly as you gaze up at the twilight sky.

You feel, rather than see, someone dragging you backwards and into a foxhole. You close your eyes and squeeze them tight, trying to bring your vision back into focus. When you open them, Bucky’s face appears in your view, and you watch his mouth move as you wait to hear sound. His words finally break through the ringing in your ears and you hear him yelling, “Talk to me! Are you okay?”

You smile and pull him into a hug, squeezing him tightly. You pull back and answer, “Yes, I’m okay!”

He looks at you in shock. “You scared the shit outta me! What are you doing here? Where’s your helmet?”

“I was delivering supplies. Didn’t know I’d need it.”

Bucky pulls the helmet off his head and drops it onto your own, fastening the straps beneath your chin. He mutters, “I gotta get you out of here. We gotta get out of here.”

He turns to Gabe and a man you don’t know, discussing strategy. They seem to decide on something because Bucky turns back to you. “Stay here. Do not move from this hole, even if someone calls for a medic.”

“But Bucky, I-“

“Promise me!”

Your face softens at the panic in his voice. “I promise.”

He grabs the front of your uniform and pulls you in for a desperate kiss. “I’ll be back.”

And before you can even protest, all 3 men are gone.

-

You lean back in the foxhole, watching the bright white flare twist up in the sky, passing over the moon. The soundtrack of passing time consisted of explosions and bullets whizzing through the air, accented by the screams of the wounded. Suddenly, 3 figures leap over your head and into the foxhole with you, each landing with a quiet thud. Bucky flings himself against the edge of the shelter, turning his body to face you. “Are you okay?”

You nod and one of the men yells, “There’s gotta be at least 5 mortar companies out there!”

Bucky yells back, “Radio B company, tell em we need cover!”

Gabe pulls the radio from off his back, smoke rising from the device. “That might be tough!”

The unknown man yells, “Bucky, behind you!”

Bucky and the man both shoot over the edge of the foxhole, before Bucky turns and yells, “Here they come!”

You grab a forgotten gun from the ground near your feet and situate yourself next to Bucky, firing alongside him and taking out the enemy. You all pause when you see blue rays of lights shooting across the battlefield, disintegrating the men that once stood there. You all rise from the foxhole slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon in shock as a tank rolls over the hill and slowly levels its weapon with your location, Bucky grabs you and yanks you down as he yells, “Duck!”

There’s a loud explosion and dirt rains down on you and the other men, before there is only silence. Bucky pulls your gun from your hand and tosses it to the side, urging the others to do the same. You all hold your hands up in surrender as a group of soldiers in all black outfits appear at the edge of the foxhole, weapons leveled at you.

The enemy soldier closest to you gestures with his gun, “Move.”

You all stand slowly and crawl from the shelter and onto the battle scarred surface. The soldiers keep you there, as a uniformed man emerges from the tank and strides over to you. Bucky pulls you behind him, placing himself between you and the new arrival, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed. The man in uniform gestures to you, “Bring her with us, but separate her from the others.”

Bucky plants himself in front of you and yells over his shoulder, “Run, go!”

“No! I’m not leaving you!”

Bucky pushes you away and urges, “Go get help! Go!”

Two of the enemy soldiers descend upon you, and you start to scramble backwards, tears streaming down your face. They each grab one of your arms and you start to flail and kick in protest, trying to get away from them. You can hear Bucky yelling your name, desperation heavy in his voice. You both fight against your captors, trying to reach each other, when the sound of a gun cocking freezes you both in place.

You look over at the man in uniform, his gun in his hand, aimed at Bucky. “One more move, and he’s dead.”

You whimper but stay frozen. He turns to the guards, “Shock them.”

White hot electricity courses through you before everything goes black.

-

endnote: The Battle of Azzano, youtube

-

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wouldnt let me tag

[minijenn]

Bot Battle Preview

(don’t be alarmed I’m just gonna start entitling previews by what the actual chapter is lol) anyway, here we go with a bunch of shit I wrote in under an hour, imo good your girl wants to fucking get this done fast so I can devote my time to KH3 when it comes out anyway, here ya go with some shenanigans lol: 

“Ahem,” Peridot loudly cleared her throat, garnishing the attention of the group gathered before her. After leaving the Kindergarten, the green Gem had made sure that Garnet, Pearl, and Ford, the only three who were uninformed about the Cluster after their latest misadventure, were all congregated together in the temple, Amethyst and the kids along with them to help in her explanation if need be. “As it seems I have no other options, I have conceded to reveal some important information to you about the Cluster.”

The Gems and the author said nothing to this, instead simply exchanging a dubious glance as they wondered whether or not Peridot had any intention of actually telling them the truth or not. Amethyst assured them that she was, however, by offering them a small nod, her expression gravely serious, even if the green Gem’s method of demonstrating exactly what the Cluster was to them was… less than serious.

With a snap of Peridot’s fingers, Steven shuffled forward, his entire body covered by a large cardboard box with a crudely-drawn Earth upon it. Dipper and Mabel walked alongside the young Gem largely to guide him along, since his vision was obscured by the box entirely.

“Behold!” Mabel exclaimed with a dramatic flourish, tossing a handful of glitter over the box as an added touch. “The Earth!”

“Hey!” Peridot snapped, glaring at the girl. “I was supposed to say that! Now… Behold, the Earth!” she began again, slapping the box with the flyswatter she was using as a baton and causing Steven to stumble back a bit as a result. “At the very center of this planet lies… the Cluster! Rotate,” she ordered, and with a little help from Dipper, Steven managed to turn himself and the box around to show another drawing, this time of the Cluster buried far beneath the Earth’s surface. “This is the Cluster. It’s a massive, artificial fusion composed of millions of Gem shards. It has laid dormant for thousands of years within this planet’s crust. When this Gem activates and takes its form, the result will be catastrophic. Now!”

Peridot hit the box once more, cuing Steven to begin shaking the box to build up suspense. Garnet, Pearl, and Ford all leaned forward in quiet dread, all three of them quite alarmed by what they’d already just heard about this Cluster. However, their worst fears were confirmed, albeit in a bit of an overexaggerated way when a rather silly, snake-like sock puppet burst through the drawing of the Earth on the box abruptly.

“BWAAAAA!” Steven growled loudly, thrashing the sock puppet around in faux violence, much to Peridot’s annoyance.

“What is that?” she asked with a scoff.

“It’s the Cluster!” Steven said through the puppet.

“I made it myself!” Mabel chimed in brightly. “I’ve been a bit of a sock puppet expert ever since I tried putting together this whole musical with them a few weeks back. It didn’t really turn out being exactly like I hoped it would, but… at least I was still able to make a good Cluster puppet with what I had left! Do you like it?”

“No!” Peridot huffed, swatting the puppet and Steven’s hand away. “The won’t look anything like that! B-but it is real,” she turned back towards the others. “And it can activate at any moment, destroying this planet and everything on it in the process! Including all of us!”

“And there was probably a much easier way to explain all of that that didn’t involve using a box and a sock puppet,” Dipper remarked somewhat dryly, sending the green Gem a critical glance.

“They’re called visual aids,” Peridot countered coldly. “And yes, they were necessary in getting the point of the Cluster across to these clods! They certainly never would have understood it without them, I can assure you.”

“Believe me,” Garnet spoke up, her tone and expression both grim after everything they’d just learned. “We would have.”

“What a Cluster, huh?” Amethyst asked, somewhat sarcastically, though there was still a hint of dread in her tone.

“And I thought Bill’s intentions for the Earth were bad…” Ford muttered to himself, his eyes wide with concern. “But this is arguably even worse. Who could have ever guessed that Homeworld could be so… vindictive over losing this planet all those years ago?”

“We should have…” Pearl whispered so quietly that none of the others heard her as her hands quickly slipped up to cover her mouth.

“This abomination must be stopped,” Garnet said, standing with firm resolve. “Before its too late.”

“B-but how?” Pearl asked, regathering her bearings. “We’d need to build some sort of machine to take us to the center of the Earth! It’ll have to-”

“Hey!” Peridot snapped impatiently, lashing her flyswatter out at the white Gem. “I wasn’t finished speaking yet! What we need is to build some sort of machine to take us to the center of the Earth.”

“Um, that’s literally what Pearl just said,” Dipper pointed out, crossing his arms.

“Furthermore,” Peridot continued, staunchly ignoring both him and the pointed glare Pearl was sending her way. “It’ll need to withstand up to 360 gigapascals of pressure and temperatures up to 9800 degrees.”

“And,” Ford cut in, adding his vast knowledge onto the discussion. “It’ll likely need to be outfitted with an advanced hyperflux engine in order to-”

“In order to cut through the Earth’s crust and get us down to the Cluster in a reasonable amount of time, yes of course,” Peridot rolled her eyes. “Anybody who has any inkling of intelligence at all would know that. Which is why I’m surprised that such a primitive creature like you would be able to figure it out.”

“Oh, I’ll show her ‘primitive’…” Ford growled, rolling up his coat sleeves a bit to give the green Gem a piece of his mind. At least until Pearl put up an arm to stop him just in time.

“Well, we mustn’t waste any time,” the white Gem concluded. “We need to start finding parts for this machine immediately.”

“Yes, obviously,” Peridot huffed, still irritated. “You all certainly do have a knack for stating what’s very plain to see, don’t you? Either way, we can start by dismantling all devices inside of this dwelling.”

Before anyone could object, Peridot hurried over to the kitchen, jumping up onto the counter and grabbing the microwave so she could pry it off of the cabinet it was connected to. “This simplistic radiation concentrator should come in handy!” she exclaimed, yanking it down with a heavy shout before it ultimately fell past her and onto the floor, breaking instantly.

“Whoa, wait!” Steven exclaimed, shaking the box off of him as he watched the green Gem with newfound alarm as she grabbed the phone lying on the nearby coffee table.

“This baseline vibration transmitter could possibly serve a function!” she cried before smashing the phone itself down onto the table to open it up and reveal its inner components. From there, she ran up to the loft, hoisting up Steven’s television, despite how heavy it was for her. “T-there’s a remote chance something useful could be inside this primitive image cube!”

Everyone down below flinched as the TV came crashing down to the ground, though fortunately, Steven was quick to finally put an end to Peridot’s frenzy before she could go on to break any more of his possessions. “Wait!” he exclaimed before evening things out. “I have a better idea that doesn’t involve destroying the house!”

While most of the others were still largely wrapped up in their concern over the Cluster, Amethyst couldn’t help but crack a smile over this, knowing that even when the rest of them were at a loss over what to do, the young Gem usually wasn’t. “Classic Steven.”

[pepperonijem]

In the Ashes || Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: major angst and INFINITY WAR SPOILERS

Word count: 2.6k

Summary: “What’s left to do with these broken pieces on the floor? I’m losing my voice calling on you.”

A/N: This was originally sent in as a drabble request, but I felt I couldn’t do it proper justice in less than 500 words, so here we are. (I put the request under the cut, to avoid spoilers) Grab some tissues y’all, it’s about to get angsty

A/N pt 2: “can i request bucky and the reader during the fight at wakanda where thanos uses the reality stone to make bucky believe the reader is thanos and he kills her on accident and he only realizes it’s her when she begins to fade away, he doesn’t even get to say goodbye (sorry it’s dark, ilysm❤️) maybe even inspired by Ashes- Céline Dion” from @awyglenxkbskcbs 

“You gonna be okay?” Steve asked as he sat down beside you. After telling Sam to fly the quinjet towards what appeared to just be a mountain range, Steve noticed you had the jitters and wanted to check on you. “I know you haven’t seen him in a while, but I also know he’s excited to see you.” You smiled softly and nodded, but your gaze fell to the floor.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you fidgeted with the straps on your gloves. “I know, it’s just… I wish the circumstances were better.” You finally turned your head up to look at Steve. “I wish I was at home, watching The Office reruns with Bucky, instead of trying to fight against the apocalypse.”  

Steve didn’t respond, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you leaned your head against him. You looked up to Steve, not just as a captain or a hero, but as a friend. He knew what it was like to be separated from the one you love, and he was always there to lean on and you were thankful for him.  

You continued to rest against Steve until Sam called out from the pilot seat of the jet. “Cap, I think we’re here.” You looked out of the windshield to see Wakanda for the first time and the sight had you breathless. The city was beautiful and modern, the epitome for technological progress, the literal definition of a hidden gem. Steve pat Sam on the back as he directed him towards where to land, and you stood up along with Natasha and the rest of your group. As the jet approached the landing site you noticed a group of people gathering around, including T’Challa and Okoye, whom you’d met before. You heard Bruce whisper to Rhodey behind you, asking if he should bow, and let out a small laugh when Rhodey answered yes. Wanda and Vision stood behind them, also snickering at Bruce’s question, knowing he took it too seriously.

When the quinjet finally landed, you walked out beside Steve and Natasha. You scanned through the small crowd in front of you as Steve greeted T’Challa until your eyes found a familiar pair of worn blue ones. You reflexively smiled at him and when he returned it, your heartbeat went crazy. It wasn’t until Natasha nudged you in the side that you looked back over to T’Challa who was smiling at you warmly.

“(y/n), nice to see you again,” he greeted before taking your hand in a firm handshake. “I see you’ve already found Mr. Barnes.” T’Challa laughed before looking towards Bucky and gesturing for him to come forward.

Steve greeted Bucky with a quick hug and a pat on the back, and even though Steve was here only two weeks ago to see him, they made it seem like it had been months. Bucky then turned to you, and you felt your stomach drop to your knees when you realized he was close enough for you to smell the ever-familiar scent of his cologne. The smile on his face was unlike the ones he used to show before he left for Wakanda. Back then, his smiles were forced and restrained, like he was afraid of his happiness being snatched away. But this smile, this smile spread all the way to his eyes, and if you weren’t so lost in the moment, you would have noticed the almost literal twinkle in them when he looked at you. He quickly pulled you into a tight embrace and you buried your head in his neck, savoring the feeling of being in his arms. For the last two years you had been on the run moving from run-down hut to another, never quite being able to settle down, but here in Bucky’s arms, you were home, and even when he pulled away you were stuck on cloud 9.

“Hi,” he finally said. You let out a small chuckle playfully pushed him.

“Hi yourself,” you smiled. You and Bucky continued to look at each other, just appreciating the other’s presence with a comfortable silence resting between you, until Sam broke it.

“Just kiss already,” he teased. “We know you’re just trying to not make it awkward for us, but trust me, this weird staring game is more awkward.” Natasha laughed in agreement and you matched the blush that was creeping onto Bucky’s cheeks. The rest of the group began walking towards the inside of the palace, leaving you and Bucky to yourselves. He shyly bit his lip, before pulling you in for a sweet and long overdue kiss. His lips felt soft and relaxed on yours, much opposed to the rough and tired kisses he gave you before going back under.

After remembering your human need to breathe, the two of you broke apart and Bucky took your hand and the two of you went off to find the rest of the group. The halls echoed with your laughter as Bucky caught you up with his new life in Wakanda, he told you about the goats he named after you and Steve, how you just have to see them because he knows you’ll love them, about the new arm Shuri had made for him, and about the new coconut oil he was using to keep his hair healthy. You brought him up to date with your life as well, about how you haven’t slept on a good bed in so long, but you’ve learned 3 more languages, and that you have a newfound love of German food.

But your happy nostalgia came to an abrupt halt when you entered the room. “They’re on their way, and we don’t have much time left,” Bruce said. “They know the soul stone is in Vision, and they won’t stop until it’s out of Vision.”  You and Bucky looked at each other with concern, before turning to Wanda who had tears spilling out of her eyes, knowing that she would have to be the one to destroy Vision and the stone if it came to that. T’Challa’s younger sister Shuri spoke next.

“Then why don’t we take it out of him first?” She suggested. She and Bruce began to discuss with Wanda and Vision the scientific possibilities of removing the stone and destroying it without harming Vision while Steve pulled you, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha off to the side.

He explained that no matter what happened, the mission was to not let the Black Order near this room. “This is what we’re here to do, and really, it might be the last thing we do,” Steve explained. “But we’re soldiers today. We’re not just fighting for one people today, but the whole universe. So think of the people around you, those you love and those who love you.” You and Bucky kept your eyes ahead, but his metal digits found yours and gave you a small squeeze. “Those are the people looking up to us, so whatever it takes, we’re not gonna let them down. Not today, not ever.”

The sound of a crash ended Steve’s speech and the group flocked to the window to see the first aircraft land and crash. They were here. The team flocked out, leaving behind Wanda, Vision and Shuri but before you could leave, Bucky grabbed you by the arm. “Listen, doll, if anything… if anything happens--” but you cut him off with a kiss before he could finish his sentence. You grazed his cheek with your palm and he softened his grip on your arm.

“No, Buck,” you countered. “Tonight, after all this shit is over, and we’ve done our job, we’re gonna take a long shower, make some hot chocolate, and then lay in your bed and we’re gonna watch The Office until we fall asleep, while your goats bleat around us, okay? Because I love you, and you love me, and we’re not going to let each other down.” You kept a smile on your face but you could see the worry still etched in the wrinkles around Bucky’s eyes. “So let’s do this the way we’re gonna do the rest of our lives -- together.” His face finally softened and he leaned in to kiss you on the forehead with a whispered “I love you” before you sped out to meet with the group.

The battle was shifting in your favor for a while. By opening the small section, you and the other avengers were able to streamline the creatures summoned by the black order. You fought alongside Natasha, the two of you teaming up to maim and kill the alien demons. But eventually you realized that no matter how many you killed, there were another 10 to replace it and you began to grow tired, but you continued to fight, feeling all the more hopeless by the day. It wasn’t until Thor arrived that you once again had hope for the battle. But when Vision came down and Thanos arrived, you and the other Avengers rushed over to try to defend the stone. Thanos was powerful, but so were you and your friends.

While Steve had Thanos distracted you made an effort to immobilize the glove, as Bruce had mentioned that’s where his power was concentrated. Steve was throwing jabs left and right, and Sam covered for you as you attempted to plant a grenade in the palm of the gauntlet, hoping to at least make a dent in it. But before you could reach the palm of his hand, he shut his fist, causing the gauntlet to glow, and smacked you away from him. The magnitude of his attack sent you flying against a bed of rocks and you rolled off and onto your back, almost unable to move. You slowly stood up, leaning against a tree for support. Every bone in your body felt stretched and brittle and you sucked in a breath at the sharp pain. The world around you seemed to sink low and you felt heavy, as if your center of gravity shifted. Your vision was still hazy from the impact, but you could see that Thanos was nowhere to be found, your bet was that he used the stone to disappear to another part of the dense forest, and you were thankful because right now you couldn’t fight. There was no energy left for you to. You watched as your friends rushed over to where Vision was, trying to create a wall of defense around him in case Thanos showed back up, and you made an effort to shuffle over. But your legs wouldn’t budge, and every effort felt like fire in your bones. You continued to try until you saw Bucky and Natasha leave the group and run over towards you and a smile spread on your face at the sight. You extended your arm to them, but then you let out a gasp once you saw it.

That wasn’t your arm.

As Bucky and Nat got closer, you saw that the looks on their faces were not of concern, but of anger. Bucky, full of fury, let out a battle cry before swinging his metal arm against you. You had no time to react, as every movement brought you more pain, so instead you allowed yourself to be knocked down. You tried to speak, to call out to Bucky to let him know that it was you, but the only thing you could let out was a pained gasp as Bucky took a jab at your chest.

“Where the hell is she?!” he demanded, not relenting on his hits. Natasha watched as he continued, and tried to call out to him and pull him back, but Bucky resisted. He heard nothing but the sounds of his own sobs and the thuds of his metal fist against the broken purple body in front of him. “What did you do with her? Bring her back!” He moved his fists to your jaw and although your arm reached up to try to block the hits, you were too distracted by the pain in Bucky’s voice to push him away from you. Time seemed to move slower and the world slowly got darker, and you couldn’t help the guilt that made its way into your stomach when you thought about how you were going to be letting down a lot of people today.

It wasn’t until Bucky heard the pained shouts of Wanda from the group that he finally stopped attacking you and allowed Natasha to pull him away. “Jesus Christ, Bucky, something’s wrong,” she chastised him. He turned around to where Nat was looking to see two beams of red energy streaming in both directions -- one towards the stone in Vision’s head, and the other towards…

Bucky was finally hit with the realization and he fell down to his knees. He gave out a gradual crescendo of “No”s until he was screaming it with every ounce of oxygen in his body. Bucky couldn’t even keep his eyes open, feeling too guilty to even face the bloodied body in front of him, the body that was destroyed at his hands. At his cries, the real Thanos once again shut his fist and you returned to normal. “Buck,” you called to him, your voice now hoarse and laced with pain -- pain that he caused -- and he finally opened his eyes to look at you. He crawled over to you and lifted your head and laid it on his lap, still chanting “no, no, no,” like it was a prayer. He tried to stroke your hair, and you felt his hands tremble against your scalp. You forced out a smile, not wanting to Bucky to see your pain. “Don’t forget to add the cinnamon on my cocoa,” you whispered softly. Even over the sound of Wanda screaming in the distance, and Thanos ripping the stone out of Vision’s head, and the sound of Thor’s battlecry approaching, Bucky only heard your voice. You felt that you were allowed to be selfish, just this once, to want this moment to be only about you and the love of your life, since it would be the last one you shared.

He let out a sad chuckle in between his sobs, and began to speak. “How can I forget, doll? You’re always remindin’ me.” he rested his hand on your cheek, getting colder by the second. He bent down to press a kiss against your lips, barely feeling yours move under his. He pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, cradling your body in his arms and consumed by the ever familiar feeling of guilt. Even with HYDRA’s brainwashing out of his system, he managed to hurt someone else he loved, and although you would deny it, the guilt would forever haunt him. “I love you.” he whispered with a sad smile.

But before you could return his feelings, the echo of a snap hit your ear drums and you watched Bucky’s eyes widen in terror. You looked down at your hands to see yourself fading into ash. “Make it stop,” you cried, your breathing now erratic. “Bucky, I don’t want to be alone,” you sobbed as your body faded away into nothingness. Bucky tried in vain to grab the pieces as they flew away, hoping he could piece you back into the beautiful light you were out of the scattered ashes, but he every time he got close to a piece of you, it drifted away. He couldn’t even tell what was you anymore, as the pieces of you got lost with the ashes of the others who were ripped away. Thanos didn’t just destroy half of the universe, he wiped away all of Bucky’s heart. Now all that was left was a ghost of him, merely an echo of the man he was with you.

He looked around, seeing others in positions just like his: kneeling against spaces where bodies of their loved ones once lay, and the cries of guilt rose up in his chest as the sound of your last words echoed in his mind. Why were you the one paying the price for his mistakes? You didn’t deserve the ending you got, and he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be alive. Not without you. Not alone.

[ko-chan-the-blueberry-donut]

Mericcup Month 2018: Leadership

@witch19

Prompt 3! Hope you guys like it

Disclaimer: I don’t own brave or httyd

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Leadership

Hiccup swung his ignited sword with vigor, sweat dripping down his brow. Toothless was beside him, fighting off several enemy Vikings. The many dragons of the Hooligan Tribe gave a war cry along with their riders as they battled Alvin the Treacherous’s forces.

The battle was violent with no end in sight. Valka led the dragons that followed under Toothless and Astrid, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs, and Snotlout were raining fire from the skies.

Hiccup didn’t know how long they could last against Alvin’s forces. The onslaught of enemies seemed endless. Heather’s tribe was already defeated, with those remaining in her tribe fighting alongside the Hairy Hooligans.

“We need more help!” Hiccup exclaimed, blocking an axe. Eret grunted, hindering his own enemy.

“We have no more allies!” he shouted back. Hiccup didn’t want to believe that. He didn’t want to believe in placing his last hope at reaching out to lost ties from Stoick’s days was in vain. He knew that it might have been fruitless. King Fergus and Stoick the Vast were only friends in boyhood—there was a high possibility King Fergus wouldn’t even remember Stoick or feel the need to help his son who was a stranger to Fergus, but it was all he had left, and Hiccup had to take every chance he had in placing his faith in the bond Stoick and Fergus shared as old friends.

However, it seemed those bonds were broken…

An enemy Viking charged at Hiccup, and the young chief readied his blade, refusing to let himself go down like this.

An arrow pierced the man’s jugular before he could reach the Viking chief. Hiccup’s mouth parted in surprise. They didn’t have any archers on their forces…

A rallying cry bellowed in the air and the Hairy Hooligans were shocked to see Scottish ships approaching the shore with Scottish warriors already on land charging to their aid. Hiccup almost laughed in relief, his heart feeling like it was going to burst from joy.

They came. They really came…

“Are ye daft, laddie?! Pay attention or ye gonna get cut down!” a female’s voice with a foreign accent ordered in Norse.

Hiccup turned to see a woman in trousers with a kilt and Scottish men’s attire. Her hair was like wild dragon fire and her eyes burned bright like a blue inferno. It was if Freyja herself appeared to aid them in battle. She pulled to a stop on her horse beside him, shooting another man dead who was going to hurt Hiccup. Her victorious smirk made his heart skip a beat and her onslaught of arrows made him breathless.

“King Fergus is here?!” he finally managed out, fighting off an enemy. Eret brought the hilt of his sword down on an enemy’s head. The woman smirked, and Hiccup felt part of his heart slip away.

“King Fergus is retried, but his daughter, the Queen Merida, is more than happy to help his allies.” She answered. She held a hand out to Hiccup, who took it and she yanked him on her horse. Hiccup couldn’t stop the giddy grin on his face. The Scottish were really helping them. He didn’t fail his tribe after all!

More and more Scottish warriors ran onto land and the woman let out a rallying cry to her fellow warriors who cheered for her.

“Let’s show these Vikings how the Scots fight!” she shouted, urging her horse forward. Hiccup sliced down anyone who tried to charge them with weapons. Toothless followed behind, lighting fire in their wake to anyone who would attack them from behind. Meanwhile, the woman shot down enemies from the air while Hiccup took care of the ones in front of them.

They were an unstoppable force. His Freyja was as fierce and precise with her shots, charging her horse through enemy Vikings and dragons with ease. He was her guard, offering her his strength with everything he had. He didn’t dare look at her too long, for his Freyja would mesmerize him to the point of a stupor if he was careless.

Dagur the Deranged bellowed a war cry, racing towards them in violent madness, eyes alit with the possibility of murdering Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror. Toothless ran behind them, shooting a stream of fire towards the Berserker. However, the warrior dodged, charging towards them with a manic grin. His Freyja grinned, the thrill of a challenge exciting her. She slid from her horse quickly, brandishing a sword and locking blades with the Berserker.  

“Ye take Angus and find Alvin!” His Freyja commanded, parrying with Dagur on equal footing.

“I can’t leave you with him!” Hiccup protested, moving to get off her horse.

She kicked the ground out from Dagur’s feet, and turned to give him a smirk, her eyes sparking with fire that threatened to consume him. Hiccup’s breath hitched as he stared at her in awe.

It was from her look that Hiccup felt the rest of his heart being stolen away.

“I ain’t some maiden, laddie! It will take more than this wee lad to kill me!” she grinned, blocking another blow from the angry Dagur. It was her confidence and display of her skills that made Hiccup have faith in her.

He gave her a smirk, urging Angus forward with Toothless following without her, to search for Alvin and end this war.

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The arrival of the Scottish seemed to have weakened Alvin’s forces, and the enemy Vikings and their dragons were driven back to the delight of the Hooligans and their allies. The Celts and the Vikings cheered, knowing that had put a dent in Alvin’s forces.

Nonetheless, Hiccup knew the war wasn’t over. Alvin was still out there. He had managed to engage him in battle, but the older Viking managed to escape. Hiccup sighed, running a hand through his hair. Toothless nuzzled him, and he gave the dragon a pat on the head to soothe the dragon.

“It’s okay, bud. We did good today.” Hiccup praised his dragon. Toothless gave a purr as Hiccup scratched under his chin.

“Hiccup!” Astrid cried, appearing before him off of Stormfly. Fishlegs, Snotlout, Tuffnut, and Ruffnut followed, running to him. The remaining Hooligan tribesman also gathered around their chief. Valka surveyed her son for damage and sighed in relief when she found no wounds.

“What was that? Why are the Scottish here?” Fishlegs asked the question on everyone’s mind. Hiccup grinned.

“To strengthen bonds.” He answered, wondering if his dad was watching her old friend’s daughter came to the aid of his son like Fergus would have come for Stoick before them. Of course, his tribesmen were confused and didn’t get it.

“Is that some kind of riddle? You know I don’t do riddles man.” Tuff groaned. Ruff whacked his head.

“It’s obviously a code! Maybe the Celts are here for some rewards.” Ruff argued, sure that the Celts would want something for themselves.

“They better not want our dragons.” Snotlout growled. He wouldn’t be giving up Hookfang for anything. There was a murmuring among the tribe, suspicious of their Scottish aid. Hiccup rushed to fix the situation.

“No, no! They’re just here to help! Or at least I hope so…” he muttered the last part. He didn’t really get a written reply—too frantic with sending a messenger to DunBroch with the pleas for help while they were being attacked.

“Why did you write to the Scottish?” Eret asked, crossing his arms, raising a brow. He didn’t think the Vikings and Highlanders were on good terms, but perhaps he was wrong.

“Hiccup, these wouldn’t happen to be Fergus’s forces, would they?” Valka realized, remembering the crest of arms on the sails of the ships. All Hiccup did was respond with a grin. Valka couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Praise the Gods! Even in death, your father aids us.” She laughed in relief. The rest of the tribe appeared confused. Valka turned to their tribe. “These Scots are allies. Their King and Stoick were boyhood friends.” Valka explained. The tribe registered that and cheered for their late chief. Hiccup looked sheepish.

“Well it’s actually his daughter who sent us aid. Apparently, King Fergus is retired…”

“We should speak to the Queen then.” Astrid said. “King Fergus I understand helping, but it doesn’t make sense for his daughter to help a tribe she doesn’t know.”

Hiccup remembered his Freyja, her hair like dragon fire and eyes like the raging sea. He felt giddy at the prospect of seeing her again and wondered if she was the Queen’s general. He tried to not show his eagerness at the prospect of seeing the object of his adoration, and coughed, clearing his throat.

“I’ve fought with the Queen’s General. She’ll welcome us.” Hiccup explained. It was decided Hiccup, Astrid, and Valka would go to meet the Scots. It didn’t take long for them to be found. The Celts were making camp, nursing their soldiers who were injured in the battle. Some gave greetings in Gaelic, and Hiccup translated for Astrid.

Soon they arrived at the war tent where the General would be. Guards were stationed at the tent, but moved aside when they saw them approach, recognizing his chief’s cloak. Hiccup nodded in thanks, entering with Valka and Astrid.

“Don’t be daft, Macintosh! We need to nurse our soldiers before leading a full assault.” His Freyja was talking in Gaelic to a handsome Celt with flowing black hair. The man snorted.

“We’ve managed to drive back Alvin’s forces. We should crush them while they’re weak.” Macintosh argued. His Freyja wasn’t amused.

“Aye, and leave without the Hooligan tribe? They need our medical attention as well. We need all of our forces if we’re going to attack. I’ve fought his right-hand man, Dagur, and he managed to evade being sliced by my blade. Alvin the Treacherous is a higher caliber.” The redhaired general countered.

“I agree. My clan has had many casualties. I would like them to be nursed before heading into another battle.” A large man spoke, his Scottish accent heavy.

“…What were we discussing again?” a shorter man with a spacy expression asked.

“Argh pay attention Dingwall! It’s a miracle yer still alive…” Macintosh muttered, flipping some of his hair out of his face revealing blue Celtic paint. The larger Scot shook his head at the shorter man, Dingwall. His Freyja gave them all an amused expression.

“Well MacGuffin agrees with me and Dingwall is his usual self, so it looks like we’re staying here for the moment.” She said. Macintosh grumbled, but you could see a fond glint in his eyes when he looked at his Freyja.

Hiccup coughed, and the four turned to him in surprise as they just realized he was there. The female general grinned approaching them with her fellow generals behind her, surveying the Vikings suspiciously around their leader.

“Ah, Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror! It’s such a pleasure to speak to ye outside of battle.” She said in Norse, grasping his offered arm as he gripped hers in solidarity. He wished he wasn’t wearing long sleeves, so he could feel her fingers against his skin. Hiccup tried to contain the blush that erupted at the thought of them touching skin to skin, halting that train of thought before it could turn indecent.

“Pssh I bet I could conquer dragons too…” Macintosh muttered in Gaelic, and MacGuffin whacked him. “Ow!”

“Don’t mind them. My generals are idiots but they’re also very competent when they are needed.” She spoke, humor dancing in her eyes as she let go of Hiccup’s arm. Hiccup nodded with a grin, being reminded of Snotlout, Ruff, and Tuff.

“Don’t worry, General. I have my own knuckleheads to deal with.” Hiccup assured her with a grin. His Freyja laughed, and Hiccup’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yer speaking to her majesty the Queen Merida, laddie!” Macintosh scolded him. Hiccup’s eyes widened in shock. His Freyja was Queen Merida?!

“Pardon me, Your Majesty, but aren’t queens in the south not supposed to fight in battle?” Valka asked, curious. She had heard the Highlanders had different customs for their women from Stoick back when they were first married, and he was retelling his summers with Fergus in his boyhood. The Queen’s generals looked offended, like Valka had said their queen was strange, but Merida barked out a laugh, waving it off.

“Oh don’t give them looks, lads! Ye know I am a strange one!” Merida’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Aye, usually queens don’t do battle, but I am my father’s daughter and I believe if I’m gonna rule I should fight for my home and allies despite my mother’s wishes I didn’t.” Merida explained. She gestured to her outfit. “Hence why I dress like a man—it’s a little hard to do battle in a fancy dress, I’m afraid. Trust me.”

“I’m sorry, but why exactly are you here, Your Majesty?” Astrid asked, observing her.

“Not that we aren’t grateful for your help!” Hiccup rushed to add, not wanting to offend their possible allies, giving Astrid a look. She glared at him, jutting out her chin in defiance.

“My father and yer father would good friends when they were young, Hiccup Haddock. My Da would tell me and my brothers stories of their youth all the time when we were young. As I grew older, I heard tales of Stoick the Vast and his conquests. Even when they lost touch, my Da always tried to keep up news on how he was. I couldn’t in good conscious leave his good friend’s son to die when ye sent me a messenger.” Merida explained.

Valka felt herself feel warm. She had no idea that Fergus had missed Stoick that much that he had kept up with news about him and would tell his children his victories. She felt intense gratitude for Fergus for inspiring his daughter to aid them in times of need.

“Now if ye don’t mind, I need to talk to yer chief.” Queen Merida told them. She turned to her generals. “That will be all, laddies! We’ll resume in an hour. Please check on how yer clans are doing.”

“But Yer Majesty—” MacGuffin started to protest, wary of the Vikings, but Merida waved him off.

“He is Stoick the Vast’s son. My Da always told me of Stoick’s honor and no doubt his son will be the same.” Merida told them. Her generals bowed and departed. Hiccup nodded to Valka and Astrid that he was fine, and they left reluctantly.

Hiccup was alone with Merida now. She zeroed her intense gaze on him and Hiccup’s heart beat quickened.

“Sorry about my men. They’re overprotective at times. We’ve known each other since we were fifteen.” Merida explained.

“It’s all right. I’m sorry about Astrid and my mother. Times are…” Hiccup searched for the right words to say. Merida nodded.

“I understand. It’s very hard for yer tribe right now.” Merida walked over to sip some water. She offered Hiccup some. “I’m sorry it’s not wine. I don’t like to indulge in the field.” Merida added. Hiccup shook his head.

“I don’t really feel in the mood for wine anyway.” Hiccup sipped some water. The queen then looked bashful.

“To tell ye the truth, my Da’s stories are not the only reason I came to help ye.” She admitted.

“Oh?” Hiccup was curious. Her shyness was very endearing—different from her fierce passion, but all it did was present her as more complex than one-dimensional. He wanted to know more about this queen. He wanted to know what made her tick and what made her vulnerable. He wanted to know what she liked and what she was passionate about. His curiosity burned to know more of this incarnation of the goddess of war.

“As I grew up, I always heard tales of Stoick the Vast. It always made me eager for more. However, I was fifteen after escaping an arranged marriage when I heard the tale of his son, Hiccup, defeating the Red Death.”

“Wait—wha?” Hiccup spluttered, coughing on his water a bit. There were stories about him even back then? Merida nodded.

“Aye. It wasn’t long before I began hearing more and more tales of ye. Of yer courage and compassion—it inspired me.” Merida blushed prettily, her eyes sparkling in excitement at recalling all of the adventures she’s heard of. “I was in awe. Ye were my age but ye’ve already made yerself into a great leader. I began taking a more progressive route in becoming queen and fought for my reign from freedom of marriage.” The queen confessed. “My Ma didn’t think it best. It was always tradition for a King and Queen to rule together. I do intend to marry eventually, but they will be my partner. They will not rule for me—they will rule with me. I began studying military tactics and politics to rule on my own because if ye can rise up from being a village screw up to one of the best leaders of this century, I could certainly strive to rule independently and become a great leader for my nation on my own too.” Merida finished.

Hiccup’s eyes were wide. He had no idea he had caused such a change within someone. It made him feel humbled. He wondered if Merida felt the same admiration for him as he felt for her and her ability to lead her own men into battle. She was fearless and passionate. He wanted to drown in her passion. He swallowed.

“Are you disappointed?” he couldn’t help but ask, afraid that he had somehow failed her expectations. Merida gave him a smile, eyes carrying a glint of adoration Hiccup knew that were in his own eyes for her.

Merida stepped closer, taking his hand. He noticed how perfect their hands were together. Hiccup resisted the urge to intertwine their fingers.

“Ye definitely made an impression on me.” She smirked slyly. Hiccup blushed.

“Good or bad?” he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. Merida’s eyes shined tenderly.

“Let’s just say after this war is over, I would consider ruling beside a King now if he was like ye.” She laughed. Hiccup’s heart swelled and his face split into a goofy grin while he intertwined their fingers together.

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind, Your Majesty.”