#but other people are way too comfortable talking like this about visibly disabled people

[briarpatch-kids]

Some positivity post on Tumblr: "I love you ugly disabled people!! If your disability makes you deformed and annoying to be around that's okay!"

Me, trying to mind my own business:

[thedreamsofgods]

I have some uhhh, grievances. With how Hephaestus looks in Hades 2. And I'm trying to find the best way to phrase this, but I make no promises that I'll manage, because I just flat out don't know how to say what I'm trying to say. In short, I think Hephaestus should've been given facial differences.

So theres a lot of different versions of Hephaestus like with any greek god, and as such, there's a lot of different takes on how different parts of his life ago, including his birth. In some myths, he's born a healthy baby and thrown off Olympus when he's older, which injures him and leaves him permanently disabled, and that seems to be the version of events Supergiant went with, and I'm actually mad that they did? Because in the other versions, Hephaestus is born visibly disabled. Some versions refer to him as "lame"(he walks with a noticable limp, he was possibly born with clubfoot which would mean the limp was assumed at birth, though some myths suggest the limp was gained later in life), others call him "ugly", a lot of the terminology is either outdated or completely avoided because asking people to confront disability without being rude about it is too much I guess. Upon seeing the way her child looks, Hera throws him off of Olympus for being born visibly disabled. The landing further disables him in most versions of the story.

And talking around the unpleasant parts of the subject is what bugs me about his Hades 2 design.

Yes, he is visibly disabled, as in he lost his leg at some point, probably in the fall from Olympus, and he uses a wheelchair because of his prosthetic leg. But... that's it. Supergiant had a genuine good chance to depict someone with visible differences that are often looked down on and to make a character just as gorgeous as everyone else. They had the opportunity to make a very handsome man with any sort of facial differences, and they didn't for seemingly no reason. No cleft palate, no cranial differences, no vitiligo, no birthmarks, no asymmetries at all? Not even visible back problems, something many myths specify him having? They didn't even give him any scars or burns when he's the god of the forge???

There was so much room to represent a group of disabled people that rarely if ever get to see themselves depicted as attractive in the game series known for having attractive people. It's hard to not feel like Hephaestus was designed the way he is because of the developer's reputation as the attractive characters game studio. The leg and the wheelchair are well done and he represents that particular disability very well but... that's not the only disability he should represent, and it feels downright cowardly that that's the only disability he represents? I get not wanting to make Hera out to be as terrible as the myths make her out to be, but I just feel deeply disappointed with this Hephaestus design. For as careful as they were with all the gods in the first game and with all the little details and obscure touches they've paid attention to previously, they either didn't do nearly enough here, or they willingly left out so much.

If anyone in this fandom knows of a way to reach out to the developers privately with this sort of feedback, I'd appreciate it. I don't feel even remotely comfortable trying to leave this sort of feedback on a public platform outside of tumblr, and I'm really trusting yall on here to be normal about this on here. I'm putting this in the tags in the hopes that it'll reach someone who can either help me contact Supergiant or who is willing to brave the public forums and feedback locations in my stead.

[Here's a link] to a post talking about the positives of his wheelchair and leg design as a palate cleanser.

[cy-cyborg]

I'm seeing a lot of people here and on other platforms getting angry at people who have come from Tik Tok (and youtube to a lesser extent) who refuse to say words like death, racism and anything relating to heavy topics. Sometimes they won't even say the names of minorities either.

Any I get why this is frustrating and just not a good practice. The people criticising these folks are absolutely right, we need to get comfortable saying these words and discussing these topics. Not to mention the fact that self-censorship can cause issues for people who are legitimatly triggered by those topics (e.g. due to trauma), But as someone who spent a lot of time on Tik Tok and youtube before coming here, I think there's some vital context missing here.

I'd say a good 75% of the people on tik tok, and by extention, people who have moved elsewhere from Tik Tok, using words like "unalive," "r#pe," "sewerslide" or whatever else aren't using it because they're uncomfortable with the topic. In fact, it's quite the opposite. They want to talk about it, but Tik Tok's content moderation is so wildly strict that they can't. Even saying the words would get you flagged by the algorithm, ESPECIALLY if you had captions enabled or the actual word written in text from the in-app editor. This was especially true for people from minorities trying to talk about issues affecting their community or even just themselves (hence the hesitation to even say the minorities name sometimes).

This isn't just some conspiracy theory either. Tik Tok staff admitted to doing this intentionally on several occasions as a way to "keep the peace". I remeber when I first joined, it came out that they intentionally limited views on videos of visibly disabled people, both to prevent bullying but also because "some users find that content disturbung." I couldn't even show my stumps in videos without my videos getting stuck on 0 views at best or account warnings for "inappropriate content" at worst. I got DMs from several people after my video about disability pride month in July asking why their comments wishing me a happy disability pride month got removed, when I went into check the filtered comments, they'd all been hidden for "bullying". The same thing was happening with people commenting and saying the word "autism." And that's just the disabled community. I know similar stuff was happening in other communities too.

Most of the time, you had to speak in coded language to get your point out there. It's not that they're uncomfortable with it, it's because the videos would be dead in the water if they didn't. Getting the message out using these "toned down" replacements was better than not getting it out at all.

"OK, but this isnt tik tok, they shouldn't do that here" yeah, I agree, but for a lot of kids, Tik Tok was their first real experiance with social media, it makes sense that they're going to assume other platforms will be the same. YouTube is just as bad, if not worse, in some respects. Tumblr even has its fair share of censorship issues, too (e.g. queer people's posts being flagged as mature for seemingly no reason). It's not a stretch to make the assumption they'd need to continue the practice of self-censorship here, too.

This isn't to say that NO ONE is using the censored words to avoid hard topics/because it makes them uncomfy, but in my experiance, those people assume this is the best thing to do because everyone else was using it. They don't stop to ask why. They just repeat it, which in turn contributes to making them umcomfey with the real word.

I'm not saying don't pick people up on this stuff. We NEED those words, and we need to be more comfortable with them so stuff like the above situation doesn't happen and become a self-perpetuating cycle. But it started from a real, genuine need to censor ourselves to even get the message out, and I think it's important to keep that in mind. It's not just kids being "too sensitive."

[woahpinkhorsegirl]

Hi mlp tumblr and bluey tumblr! Im Pink! Im hoping to share my stuff on here and discover other stuff!

This is my sona! She's a changeling but stays in her pony form almost all the time, just her preference :)

Im gonna start posting OCs and whatnot for both fandoms soon, but i wanna put here the list of Deviantart basemakers i used from at various points, mostly early on when i forgot to credit them. Hopefully I'll make new refs eventually and they'll have proper credits.

I have a huge MLP and Bluey next gen thing to post too so either look forward to that or check it out if its out by the time you read this!

Other information about me, if you'd like to know:

I am 19 years old, white, American, and ace bi. I'm a ciswoman but I go by all pronouns, she/he/they/it and neopronouns are all acceptable, whatever you see fit or comfortable to call me!

Trans people of all kinds are welcome on my profile, alongside queer people in general! I am pr0-choice and pr0-p4lestine, I don't talk about my p0litical stances much but those are the two most important i can think to mention.

Disabled people, with both invisible and visible disabilities, are also welcome (these feel obvious but I've seen people who make it feel necessary)

Non-white people are also welcome (again, unfortunate that I feel the need to clarify that, but I use twitter so :/)

I also saw a random post about this but just in case, anyone with coping mechanisms (like age regression) are also welcome. I won't judge you for doing what you need to do.

If i look like im censoring some words by using numbers or symbols, that's a force of habit. I don't like appearing in search terms unless I actively want to, it usually invites the wrong people, so i "censor" terms that I think might draw the attention of bad apples.

Uh just some boundary stuff I guess? I love OC interaction and I also enjoy RP. I don't like giving my discord to people so any of that is gonna have to happen here. If that's inconvenient or not gonna cut it, then my apologies :(

Uh my rules for RP are a tiny bit strict but not in the way your probably thinking.

Im one of those "planning ahead" type of roleplayers who like to map out a scenario and key events before we begin and occasionally take pauses between major scenes to plot elements of the future. If you can handle that, then I'd say your golden! Im not picky with the length or detail in responses, as long as theres something to work with, I can usually move things along. The only other restriction i can think of is: when it comes to the sexualities of my characters, please respect them. Thats really it :)

I do platonic roleplays, adventure, romantic, and slice of life. I'm not much for action stuff unless its the spice thrown into the other types occasionally. I'm pretty flexible though, so we can talk about it individually if need be.

Oh, and no nsfw RP. I dont do s3x, and im not much for depicting "elicit substances" to put it lightly. Alc0hol might be the only exception, if its kept in small doses. If for some strange reason our characters end up in a s3xual scenario, we're skipping to the aftermath.

Edit: Some of my OCs have romantic interests made/owned by my boyfriend. This element can be removed for romance roleplays if need be (although they will still be with his OCs outside of the roleplay)

So yeah uhm I think thats it! Im not sure if you can edit things on Tumblr but if you can then I guess I'll update this as needed! Thanks for checking out my blog!!

[floaroma-sanctuary]

Beau climbed the stage confidently, his note cards tucked into his pocket safely in case he forgets something. His resident Pokémon were milling around the stage, saying hello to the people that had come to watch his lecture.

The audience clapped at his entrance and hushed quickly. The brunette smiled and began. "Hello, hello! I've given many lectures this week, but this is one of my absolute favorites. Welcome to Disabled Pokémon and Their Care. There's many misconceptions about disabled Pokémon that I will be dispelling today as well as talking about how to best care for your Pokémon friends."

He walked across the stage as he spoke, coming to stand near Timmy the Toedscool. "Now, every Pokémon is unique and thus needs unique care. The same goes for disabled Pokémon. Say, for instance, you have a Toedscool. Would you care for your Toedscool like you would a Luvdisc? No, these two Pokémon have completely different needs. Picture with me now that you have two Toedscool. One was born fully abled, and the other was born with one leg shorter than the other."

At Beau's words, Timmy kicked up first his normal leg and then his prosthetic leg, proudly showing himself off. He even gave a little twirl, what a ham.

"Pokémon like Timmy with shorter or missing limbs often get prosthetics to make their lives easier and more comfortable. Timmy can still do all of the things that other Toedscool can do." Beau patted the top of Timmy's head, and the little Toedscool started bouncing the ball around like a hacky sack with his feet.

Beau moved across the stage to stand with Linnea the Leafeon. "Some of your are probably very familiar with Linnea if you came to my lecture on deaf Pokémon. Linnea is completely deaf and follows commands through hand signals."

Beau flicked his hands, and Linnea spun around, using Sunny Day to light up the stage and then using Magic Leaf straight up in two arcs that collided with each other. With this combination, she made a brilliant rainbow display as the sparkling light rained down on the audience. "Linnea is perfectly capable of doing everything that other Pokémon can do. She would just need her trainer to adjust to her and really pour their time and energy into her. To get her attention, you can move into her line of vision or do things around her, such as tapping on the floor."

The sanctuary owner tapped his foot, and Linnea turned to him, wrapping herself around his legs affectionately. He leaned down and gave her a pet before moving over to Diamond the Meowstic, making sure that his footsteps couldn't be heard but weren't too loud.

Diamond heard him approaching and was already turning to him, moving her head to try and pinpoint where he was coming from better. Beau stopped a little ways from her but close enough for her to feel if she reached out.

"Blind Pokémon usually need a bit more help as many creatures are more reliant on sight than most of their other senses; however, they also are perfectly capable of thriving and living full and happy lives. Diamond here lost her sight when she was young due to malnourishment and disease. She has no other complications, but her sight was not able to be restored. She's still a perfectly proficient battler and actually developed her psychic abilities to fill in the gaps of her lost sight." Beau stepped back as he tossed some small treats and toys around the stage. "Diamond, seek."

The Pokémon quickly found each of the items, holding her little pile of treats as she waited patiently for permission to eat them. Beau patted her head. "Go ahead, you've earned them. Diamond is also an incredibly skilled battler and relies on a partner Pokémon or her trainer for assistance. It is incredibly important to build that level of trust."

He moved on to the last Pokémon, who was sitting in a little bed and looking out at the crowd as she gave waves, his very own Dizzy. "Our last little assistant is one of my own Pokémon. Not every disability is visible, despite what a lot of people think for both humans and Pokémon. Dizzy is a prime example of that."

Beau picked up Dizzy and held her in a way that he could show her off. "Dizzy looks like your typical Spinda, right? A little klutzy but overall happy and healthy. She very much is, but she also has a neurological disorder that isn't too uncommon in Spindas that makes it difficult for her to walk around for long periods of time. It essentially makes her permanently dizzy."

He set her down for her to toddle around the stage a little bit, but he scooped her back up as she was getting close to falling down as if he knew the exact moment she'd fall. He settled her into her usual pocket and continued.

"Dizzy usually sits in my pocket as I go about my day, and she also has beds everywhere back home. She sometimes requires assistance with eating and grooming, and she will always need these sorts of assistance. She would struggle to battle and compete in contests, but she's perfectly happy and is expected to live the full Spinda lifespan." He explained, giving her a treat that she grabbed from his hand and munched on happily.

"Each of these Pokémon, just as their able-bodied counterparts, have unique needs. There's usually increased medical costs for disabled Pokémon, especially later in life. Being disabled though does not remove their ability to live independent lives. Their environment and training just needs modified to best support them." He said, moving back to the middle of the stage.

"The best thing you can do if you are taking on the responsibility of caring for a disabled Pokémon is research. Learn everything you can from trained Pokémon carers and people who already train a Pokémon with the disability yours has, and talk to your vet. Vets often have many resources that can aid you and also give you a break down of what your life could be like if you adopt a disabled Pokémon. If you have any questions, please feel free to stop by my booth. I have been Beau Rosalba, and you all have been a wonderful audience. Thank you!" Beau bowed and gave a wave to the crowd as he led his group off the stage again.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

I think the problem is there's a massive cultural tension between 2 stances.

Everything unsightly, like garbage laundry, dishes, small appliances, cord or hobbies should be hidden away as much as possible so everything looks 'clean', that this is how 'adults' live and should be everyone's goal. Closed storage, minimal drop zones, invisible garbage and storage.

That this clearly doesn't work for a very large subset of people and homes are meant for living in comfortably, not for looking good up to someone else's standards. Your home should serve you and make your life easier, and some people experience "out of sight out of mind" a little too literally and completely to do things like store their hobbies away and still actually think to do them

You see this tension played out in home advice articles and home design opinion pieces all over the internet.

And it's one of those things that's actually about the spectrum of disability or neurology that is natural to humans that no one wants to acknowledge as the problem. At least no one really married to that first viewpoint up there. For people who are able bodied and neurotypical -enough- to pass, or are nd in just the right way, they can get away with living like that and the lack of clutter makes them comfortable and they tell themselves they are the ones doing 'adulting' correctly. Some people who live like this acknowledge it isn't desirable or healthy for other people to... some don't. Some really don't. Some people see drop zones and open storage and hobbies left out where they are visible and see it as a failure to 'live like an adult'. They see it as a dying trend of clutter and describe it with words like 'messy' and 'unsightly' or imply it's deeply off trend and needs to be done away with.

And our parents generation did a lot to try to instill view 1 in a lot of us, like it's the only acceptable way to act like a responsible person, either as an extension of their own acquired neurosis, or because they didn't like seeing their kids stuff all over the place [that is to say evidence of kids and teens being kids and teens in their house]. They learned it from their parents and the passed it on just like body image issues from parents who ask their daughters why they don't have the salad.

Like yes, on tumblr I see posts so often talking about how you should make your home functional for your brain and how you work, all the time, even ones that explicitly mention issues with executive functions or with literally forgetting things exist when you don't see them regularly. Thinking of things like desire paths might be a good way for some people to rewire how they think about their home.

But everywhere else on the internet? There's at least 20 more people trying to tell you that "open shelving" was just a fad, and needs to be done away with because it looks cluttered and 'messy'. With zero acknowledgement that doesn't work for everyone for neurological reasons.

I see these posts so often on tumblr because they are trying to do damage control for a pervasive culture of shame that treats accessibility in home design like it's unsightly.

On one hand, it's great to see people learn how to unfuck their living spaces. On the other hand, that stuff like "frequently used articles should be stored near where they're used" and "trash receptacles should be placed near activities that generate trash" are being received as radical ideas points to a serious knowledge transmission problem.

[piercingsandfangs]

List of things I'm not allowed to do as sum1 in a mildly abusive household:

1. Cry ( lol ).

2. Be in the same room as my mother when she's mad.

3. Have financial independence ( every purchase I make my mom gets a notification for ( I'm 16 ) ).

4. Date people ( my mom gets annoyed at me if I do but she gets over it.

5. ( For context I'm autistic ) She does not believe that loud noises affect me. I am not allowed to be affected by loud sounds. She will scream and blast nightclub music to hurt my ears.

6. Be in pain. My mother has disabilities that put her in pain on the daily. Because of this any pain I experience in my life is invalid to her.

7. Go to the doctor's. Don't really understand this one, she sometimes lets me, other times she's anti me seeing a doctor at all even for things I really need.

8. Dislike anyone she knows. She however tries to make me hate and ignore my friends. She has used my own money against me because I dislike my aunt ( who has said pedophilic things. )

9. Be on phone calls. Again I don't get this one. They cost her nothing.

10. Watch shows she personally dislikes. That being; Doctor who, Twilight, Strictly come dancing, ect.

11. Watch YouTubers. If she walks in when I'm watching one she will tell me I I watch " stupid shit " and scream at me until I put something else on.

12. Go to cafés, restaurants, ect. Only allowed to when my cousin is coming ( my mom prefers her to me. )

13. Paint my nails. My mom doesn't like nail polish.

14. Be feminine in any way. I'm trans and she thinks trans men shouldn't be at all feminine. She sees cis men being feminine as empowering however.

15. Have interests. Uhhh yea !! I'm not allowed to talk about my interests to her and she gets mad if I tell anyone I know about them. She thinks they're boring so I needa change them or just shut up.

16. Go on public transport. She's only just started letting me get on busses. Always trying to tell me I'd have a panic attack if I tried anything else ( fear mongering ).

17. I used to not be allowed to like my little pony ( I grew up with the show, it's my comfort show because of that ).

18. Go places! Yea I'm not really allowed to go places, she doesn't let me go places alone then refuses to come with me ( she goes places for my cousin whenever asked ).

19. Misplace things. If I do I get screamed at. She once destroyed over 60 dollars worth of my things because of this.

20. Go to school. Wasn't allowed to do that for a few years. She decided to not let me do mainstream even though I would've been fine. I now lack important things in my education and résumé.

21. Say ANYTHING nice about my father to my mother. Oh boy.

22. Say anything nice about my mother to my father. Lel.

23. I have sh scars, they're very visible. I'm not allowed to have them on show too much.

24. Not allowed to draw scars. My mother says they're ugly.

Last but not least !

25. Tell someone about what happens at home. Because of course.

[copperbadge]

So, I got a bunch of responses on my posts last week about the ADHD/Anxiety diagnosis and I appreciated all the support and advice. As an update, I’m waiting on the official writeup, which I hope to have by end of May, and at the start of June I have an appointment with a psychiatrist who specializes in adult ADHD and medication management. In the meantime I’m googling occasionally but otherwise just kind of sitting with the information and figuring out what I think.

In any case, one of the strongest responses I got, especially in private, was thanks for being so visible not just with the diagnosis but with my thoughts and feelings about it. Which doesn’t seem like a particularly hard thing for me to do; I know reactions vary, but I enjoy public dialogue about this kind of thing. So while I can’t reply to all of even most of the comments, and some I chose not to reply to because they were seemingly quite personal, I thought I would post up a few that seemed relevant. 

If you have stuff to say feel free to comment or reblog; if you send an ask bear in mind that A) anon asks might not get replies and B) non-anon asks may get only private ones, since I’m trying to control the dialogue a little, to keep it a safe space for people to engage. 

Also the tag for all this stuff is “Sam has ADHD” if you need to block it. I have 25,000 readers, I promise I will not notice nor will I be hurt if you have the tag blacklisted. :D

sumeriasmith

Anxiety and ADHD are conditions frequently comorbid, so it's not surprising to me that a test for the one evaluates the other. That said, if it's not too rude to mention, the _degree_ to which a surprise diagnosis for anxiety feels like a personal failure and causes you such an intense reaction is... probably due to the anxiety?

Oh, possibly. Though I begin to wonder if I’m working off a different definition of anxiety than I ought to be, like -- maybe I haven’t quite internalized the idea of anxiety in the way people are meant to. This does sometimes happen, where I think a word means one thing because it has in my personal experience, and actually it’s quite different. I mean, yes I do think I failed the Secret Being Normal Test, but I don’t see that as a flaw? It feels like a lot of people see a failure at something as evidence of being a bad person, and I just see it as a failure, with “fail” being pretty value-neutral. I don’t seem to couple failing-at-doing-something with being-a-failure in the way a lot of people seem to. 

At one point in the test I told the woman “I’m doing so badly at this it’s almost impressive” just to make a joke, and she was like “But you’re trying your hardest, right?” and I said “Well...yeah, of course” fairly baffled, and only realized later she was possibly trying to comfort me, not checking to make sure I wasn’t sabotaging the test on purpose. I don’t mind failure particularly, especially when it’s so incredibly low-stakes, this specific failure just blindsided me because unlike usually, I wasn’t aware it was happening as it happened. 

perminas

while best practice is usually to be in consistent talking therapy while taking adhd meds, you can absolutely get an assessment and find a psychiatrist - fairly easily on zocdoc! - who will not withhold medication if you don't continue therapy. i have one! she's in chicago and does telemed, even for adhd meds, if you want a recommendation!

Oh, thanks! I found a dude in the loop (near my home) who fits the bill, and the clinic seems pretty legit, but if he sets off alarm bells I may hit you back :D 

Man there is a lot of bullshit wank that pulls up on Google when you search for anything related to mental health or learning disabilities. Also there are some scaaaaaaams out there and they’re hitting up top on the algorithm, don’t love that. 

katestamps

Sending huge virtual hugs. No idea what insurance will pay for but there is also music, art and even theater therapy as opposed to just talk therapy and that may feel less awkward than traditional talk therapy if you want to go the therapy route. Also you may have more options with virtual appointments as opposed to them in your immediate area.

For a second I was like “Oh shit I could just go do theatre as therapy?” and then I realized it was probably like...theatre involving therapeutic themes, not just “working stagehand for a local production of Hairspray”. :D Which honestly sounds kind of exhausting anyway, before you introduce working through your issues, but it does explain a bit about my entire college career. 

Man. I had some art therapy in my teens in California in the 90s and that...was a whole ass real trip I had forgotten about. You couldn’t pay me to be a teenager again.  

flippedroundagain

You don't owe it to tumblr to be "well adjusted" about your own shit. It's A Lot to process! I hope the diagnosis ends up helping and that you find good care.

Well, no, but I do owe it to tumblr that, if I’m going to be public about it and tag the post with the various issues, I need to not be offensive or so fucked up I’m hurting other people. Like, not that I think this, but I’ve seen people say “I can’t have a learning disability, I’m normal” like everyone who has one is somehow a freak. If I’m going to express something like that, because nobody can be super healthy about this shit all the time, I need to find an appropriate place to put that, which isn’t “right in front of other people with the problem I’m bitching about.” 

It’s okay to be both hurting and conscious of not hurting others. It’s just a matter of making sure that either I say stuff that isn’t hurtful, or I warn that I might be inadvertently hurtful as I work through shit. 

[liminalweirdo]

i don't know if it's just being raised queer that alienates you from the queer experience, but I think you're right about queerness still being more rooted in the societal mindset as more misery than joy.

But I also think there's lots of reasons that some other queer people might feel alienated besides just being raised queer. Or put another way, I don't think queer families should worry about their queer kids ending up alienated. (Not saying this is what you were saying op, just that this is what your post made me think of, and the rest of this post is more my own rambling thoughts).

For me, as an autistic person with mostly queer/trans friends, I also didn't experience a lot of these things that my queer peers did -- at least not in the ways that my friends were experiencing them.

I don't remember coming out to my parents very well. There were arguments about the meaning of bisexuality. Back then my parents still called me greedy/only rock'n'roll stars do that (yes really lol)/it's a phase. There were arguments about living as a queer person and why that wasn't good or what my parents wanted for me, and there was endless annoyance at my relatives constantly asking me whether or not I had a boyfriend like that was the only option (sigh). I didn't end up homeless like some queer people I knew, when they were kicked out, but I am living with the threat of homelessness as an adult. I think we also sometimes forget that the queer experience continues beyond teenage and young-adulthood, and programs are no longer in place for us beyond that. It's very similar to autism in that way. It's like people think autism stops existing after 18. Look up anything on autism and it's "your autistic child..."

But yeah, the gender binary stuff was always pretty *shrug* to me because the rules were too arbitrary for me and my autistic brain to really give a shit about beyond "don't misgender my friends." (also... we didn't even have words like 'misgender' back then, at least not where i grew up). Basically, I didn't have a super solid differentiation between 'boys' and girls' and what that meant (in the mindset of society at the time) which was also a huge part of the reason why it took me so long to realize that I was trans, too.

I remember not feeling comfortable or welcome in queer spaces because I felt like queerness was so good and the GSA at my school didn't feel that way. I remember feeling uncomfortable in the queer community where I grew up (in a PRETTY small town) because that dynamic wasn't something that I jived with with my neurodivergent brain. I still feel excluded from pride and other queer spaces because nobody's making it accessible to people with visible and invisible disabilities (like by wearing masks and ensuring that the space around the building is also accessible, and and and. I could talk forever about this, too). But my exclusion doesn't mean I don't love my community, I just think that queer people need to work harder on realizing that there are many different types of queers, many ways to be that way, and many queers who are poor/disabled/neurodivergent/mentally ill/culturally different/raised different/less educated/less privileged etc. etc. etc. And I believe that eventually we will get there, but it's going to take a lot of work and being queer and marginalized doesn't exempt you from doing it.

I think that being surrounded by queer people (friends, parents, community) does sort of dilute the experience, though. Or soften it somehow?

I'm sorry that you, or I, or anybody feels alienated from our community, but a lot of us are. And yeah we base a lot of the queer experience on the struggle, still. My partner says that he doesn't doesn't feel queer enough because he came out as an adult and didn't experience some of the vitriol that happens to queer teens in middle and high school, but of course that doesn't actually make him less queer. I think there might actually be a little bit of danger in thinking of queerness as suffering; in forgetting that queer people who are different from us are still just as queer, and that being queer is a fucking incredible, wonderful thing.

I remember back when every single queer movie ended in AIDS or death or not being able to come out or be together. All of the gay media I grew up with barely touched queerness at all, or it ended in tragedy. To this day, I brace myself before watching anything queer because I'm so indoctrinated to think that it's going to be super depressing. And like... queer movies aren't actually often like that anymore? (They're often kind of vapid. Queer movies for straight people, but that's a whole OTHER post).

Anyway, I wanted to talk about this because I hope that that alienation doesn't mean that some queer people can't often relate to other queer folks. There are queer people out there for you! I think there are lots (and hopefully more and more) queer people who also didn't struggle so significantly as we used to growing up queer for a multitude of reasons. Neurodivergency, prevalence of queer friends, different media focusing less on the 'tragedy' of queerness etc.

so guys turns out that being raised by queer people alienates me from the queer experience. probably not a good thing

[alienaiver]

Chapter III: On reunions and confessions

Chapter summary: It’s been 10 years. Shinsou’s become a Pro Hero in Musutafu, alone. When you’re forcefully reunited in a way none of you planned or wished for, will the unmarked paths in front of you lead to ends you’d only dreamed of?

warnings for this chapter: a villain attack is briefly described (but quickly resolved) at the beginning. there are descriptions of loneliness, isolating coping mechanisms, of being mistreated and misjudged by health professionals, and lots of grief processing. Reader also describes themselves like they don’t want to appear weak; though remember that if you have chronic pains, you are never weak. i’m more trying to show the emotional process and emotions related to it, unhealthy as they may be! always remember to talk about your struggles with other people and remember that you’re not alone! <3 ALSO while the reader is still very gender neutral, there is mentions of shinsou having dated a male in the past! wordcount: 19.3k

chapter content: fluff, sfw, gender neutral reader, medium angst, serious descriptions of grief and anger, hurt/comfort, adult and pro hero!shinsou, VERY canon divergent!, best friends to lovers (huehuheuhuee), friendship bickering and shenanigans, bakugou and kiri has a pro-hero agency and so does todoroki and midoriya!, way too many coffee references, lots of italics, happy ending, reader's disabilities include fibromyalgia and arthritis (which arthritis is kept vague), kamisero, shinkami and erasermic is also part of the story. notes: this is the FINAL chapter in this installment. thANK YOU SO MUCH for reading it and supporting me! it means the world to me that you’ve all given such love to this! this final chapter here is more... personal, and the disabled reader is finally coming into play! the word count is...... can u tell this was supposed to be the only chapter originally LKJDKFNSJ!!! i hope that any disabled person stumbling upon this feels somewhat seen and even if the symptoms or emotions described here do not fit you to a T, itll still give a sense of visibility. it is all described based on personal experience and the descriptors have been kept as vague as possible<3 everyone go thank @opulencexx​ and give her a kiss for being such a great support in the creation of this!

quick note for anime-only readers: in this chapter, there’s a part about a certain character going through something with his body: IT IS NOT CANON, it is simply me coming up with a 10-year timeskip alternate universe as i also avoid spoiling people who’s only caught up to the anime<3 mwuah and happy reading!

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Shinsou’s body reacts to the cry for help before he fully registers it, running towards the alley where he’d heard the sound come from. His partner’s still inside the convenience store, “Brainwave, I lost track of time and forgot to eat before the shift, please, just a quick rice ball?” he’d pleaded and since he was a new hero on the roster, Shinsou had felt bad and let him do it – of course villains did not care for timing or dinner breaks.

He arrives at the end of the alley to see a big guy, anthropomorphic for sure, holding a civilian by the throat as he chants something about getting his revenge on the people of Musutafu. Another arm is wrapped around the civilian’s leg. Shinsou quickly assess the situation before adjusting his Persona Chords to make a lighter, more childish voice – making the villain more susceptible to letting his guard down and reply to Shinsou – he just seemed the type to be overly boisterous if he assumed he had a physical advantage over a child.

“Hey mister! What’s two plus two?”

The villain looks around, unable to spot Shinsou immediately since he’s blending in with the darkness by the trashcans, hoping to gain control before being spotted so he can get a hold of the civilian faster. “Who cares about math? Go away if you don’t want to ge-“ and that’s all it takes before Shinsou makes him put the civilian down nice and slow and get down with his hands behind his head. In his earpiece he hears his partner confusingly ask for his location while munching on food. Shinsou runs to the civilian to assess their injuries as he asks his partner to dial for an ambulance. As he kneels and gets ready to put the civilian in the correct position for easier breathing, he gently turns the head only to gasp out your name in shock. What the hell are you doing here? His assessment suddenly feels more acute than original as he scans your body. Your leg looks broken – did you fight back? Your eyes seem to be covered in something – ink? Shinsou looks back at the villain and registers his very squid-like appearance. “Status?” his partner yells as he reaches the two of you, putting cuffs on the villain while Shinsou goes through the first-aid ABC’s. “Unresponsive,” he all but snarls in frustration. As the ambulance arrives, he insists on going with it, clearly panicked and uneasy, “call Deku and ask for a back-up, I gotta go with this one,” he simply says, not in the mood to explain further but desperate to get you medical attention as quickly as possible.  

        Shinsou’s sitting in the chair next to your bed, mindlessly flipping through a random magazine that was placed on the coffee table in your room. You’re still out cold and sitting still feels almost impossible with all the questions that’s running through him. Why are you here? When did you come home? He hadn’t heard from you in ten years, how come you’re back without contacting him? Was it vacation? Permanent? Though the most glaring question that rummaged through him was: why do you seem to be a regular civilian? Your dream of becoming a Pro Hero was as big as everyone else’s at U.A and he experienced first-hand your determination by being so close to you back then, it just didn’t add up that you couldn’t… defend yourself, given the martial arts he knew that you knew – you’d fought off bigger people even back then. Granted, it’d been ten years since you two went to school together but fighting was like riding a bike… right? He sighs and lets a hand through his hair, stretching his legs out in front of him. He’s lucky Midoriya agreed to let someone else finish his shift for the evening though he’s not at all unsure about the consequences it will have for him when he shows up tomorrow but he simply told Midoriya he couldn’t leave your side. He could hear that Midoriya was worried too and offered to come down to distract him and be there for the both of you but Shinsou assured him it was okay, that he’d appreciate if Midoriya could find out more about the quirk the villain they had apprehended had. Your eyes are still covered by the ink he’d shot at you before Shinsou appeared and it’d turned out that it couldn’t be washed off.

After some phone calls between the agency and the police district that had taken him in, it turns out the ink could make the place where it hit you cease function, eyes, mouth, hands, the works – he’s a villain already in the police’s limelight due to other attacks involving ink and hurt civilians. They’d never figured out his motive before but been able to confirm the ink would disappear within a few hours.

As Shinsou is about to get up and grab a glass of water from the waiting room, you start to move, the machine you’re plugged into beeping frantically. You start yelling and screaming and Shinsou knows it’s a reaction to the attack earlier but before he can come over to try and calm you down, doctors and nurses flood the room, trying to restrain you. Words like I can’t see, someone help and don’t touch me rips their way out of your lungs and the doctors seem to have little success in calming you down so Shinsou ends up pushing his way through them all saying the first words he thinks will make you answer,

“Do you trust me?”

It seems that through your panic you register his voice because your head moves in the direction of him but through your hyperventilating you seem to have trouble communicating, obviously going through it, unable to calm down. You garble out a “mhm” that luckily is enough for him to use his quirk.

“Breathe calmly.”

And the good thing about his quirk is that while your body shouldn’t be able to, it instantly stops fuzzing and defying the restraints in an effort to follow his order. You breathe deeply into the bottom of your lungs before exhaling again. Shinsou looks over at the monitor you’re wired up to and sees your heart rate falling steadily. You keep inhaling slowly and exhaling again and he lets you until he’s sure you’ll be calm when he stops using his quirk. The people around you step aside and the doctor order the nurses to leave the room. When he ends the usage of his quirk, he notices the way your breathing becomes slightly abrupt again, though you’re able to stay calm.

He says your name in the warmest way he knows how – mirroring the tone of voice you used to use on him back then – and gently takes your hand in his. You move your head towards him, “Shinsou?”

Shinsou originally nods, at a loss for words upon hearing you say his name after so many years but remembering that you’re effectively blind right now. ”Yeah, I’m here.” The smile you send his way breaks something in him, reminding him of all the smiles he was used to getting before you disappeared from his life and he was left to pick up the pieces by himself.

“You really are my hero, huh?” you croak out and Shinsou’s glad you can’t see the burning blush that takes over all of his features, convinced it’s going all the way down his chest as well. If the doctor notices, he doesn’t say anything.          

A detective shows up to take your statement and explains the effects of the quirk you’ve been hit with. He explains what’s going to happen with the villain and wishes you a fast recovery before excusing himself again. The doctors are a bit apprehensive on entering your room, given that Pro Hero Brainwave is guarding it like his life depends on it. When they give you a meal, you offer Shinsou the pudding and asks him to go home and get some sleep. “The armchair here is plenty comfortable,” he reassures you, reluctant to leave your side. He’s unsure of whether it’s purely worry or perhaps got to do with the burning questions at the back of his mind. He’s decided not to ask you tonight though, unwilling to put you through more after such an endeavor. The clock passes 2AM when the ink starts to disappear from your skin like it’s never even been there and Shinsou hurries to turn off the light of your room, though the light from the hallway still shines in. You blink rapidly before looking around the room, taking stock of your situation.

“You’ve gotten tall,” is all you let out as you give him the elevator look and Shinsou feels weirdly on display and gets self-conscious. He turns the light back on without warning with a deadpan expression, “argh!” you dramatically pretend to melt like a vampire in the sun.

Shinsou walks back to the armchair next to the bed and plops down, looking at you with a worried expression. “You cut your hair,” you add and reach out for his head – he doesn’t humor you though and you let your arms fall back down, “you’re probably wondering… about a few things,” you let out as you keep your eyes on the hands in your lap. Shinsou doesn’t know whether or not to show his anger or stay collected because he really doesn’t want to overwhelm you – but he also wants you to know how hurt he’s been.

You sigh as you look up at him and he’s not blind to the hurt that shines through you – takes one hurt person to know one, he guesses. You try to open your mouth multiple times but nothing leaves you, “I’m not sure where to start except… I’m so fucking sorry.”

He wants to ask for what, wants to challenge you and make you taste the bitter bile he’s been storing in his throat ever since you left. He lets out a sigh before getting comfortable in the armchair, “you should sleep. We can talk in the morning.” He turns around and wraps the blanket the nurse offered him earlier around himself. It’s not comfortable sleeping in his hero costume, the holsters on his thighs digging into him but the thought of leaving you – the fear that you won’t be here when he comes back tomorrow morning is too prevalent for him to do anything but suck it up and force his eyes shut.

None of you gets any sleep but you both pretend that you do, when morning arrives and you’re handed some pills. When Shinsou asks if you’ve slept well, you smile and say “yeah, what about you?” to which he nods and fakes a yawn as he stretches himself. The nurse has just been in to inform you that the doctor will give his discharge briefing for you in a few hours.          

“Well, as you’ve probably figured out, your leg’s broken and it will unfortunately need to heal on its own,” the doctor starts, an apologetic look on his face. “Due to your other conditions, the healing will probably also take longer than the average six to eight weeks,” he continues, unfazed by the confused look Shinsou is sending his way, mere seconds away from demanding an explanation right there on the spot. You suspect he’s holding back as to not make you uncomfortable – the same way he did every time the nurses came in with medicine that he didn’t know what was for but you took without question since you seemed aware of what it all was. “Of course there’s variables for everyone, so you just might. Going through your medical history I read that your complications are located in your back, arms and legs in varying degrees, yes? If so, I’d recommend a wheelchair for the entire healing period – crutches will most likely be too taxing.”

The doctor drones on about the protocol for provided wheelchairs, how to care for the cast and after going through your chart and prescribed medicine one last time smiles up at you, “do you live in a suitable place to recover? With room for the wheelchair? You might need someone to help care for you during the first 24 hours as you get used to it.”

You can’t help but let out a big, dramatized sigh, “I mean, I live in a hotel right now? I’m supposed to start work in a few days, and I haven’t actually been… apartment-hunting as of yet. I just arrived five days ago,” you try to laugh it off as you scratch the back of your neck. “I guess I can ask my aunt if I can stay at her place a while, though she lives on the fourth floor…” you brainstorm before raising your arms in front of you, “but you don’t need to worry, Doc! I’m very capable of taking care of myself!” you raise your arm to flex the muscles and are about to let out something as equally silly when Shinsou interrupts,

“They can stay at my place. It’s wheelchair friendly.”

You don’t think you’ve ever whipped your head so fast at someone. The doctor smiles happily and goes on to explain to Shinsou what you’re going to need before you sputter out a few confused and nonsensical sounds, “hold up!” You send Shinsou a very serious glare – he simply raises his eyebrow at you, completely unfazed by what he just did.

“I am perfectly fine on my own, I’m sure Mr. Brainwave’s here got his own stuff, you can’t be my nurse, you’re busy!” you shift your focus to him halfway and tell him that as if reminding him of his own obligations and Shinsou has to bite his tongue – as if you know what my daily life looks like, he thinks bitterly. He remains calm and assures both you and the doctor that you’ll be fine at his place and he’s happy to help out his best friend. There’s a bite at the end of that sentence as he sends you a look that he wishes he could’ve contained because really, all he wants to do is help you out and the intention is completely sincere.

The doctor returns focus to you as if he’s settled comfortably on the living solution, “what kind of job are you starting? I do recommend a proper recuperation period given your medical difficulties.” Shinsou once again holds back, licking the back of his teeth as a distraction. He wants to ask the doctor what the hell he’s on about, he wants answers about you but this isn’t about what he wants – he’s annoyingly aware of that. You argue back and forth with the doctor about how long you’re supposed to take off and reassures him that your job can very much be done from a wheelchair. After what sounded suspiciously like a bargain being made, you come to an agreement of two weeks complete rest before you start your job and the pride you emit has Shinsou snorting before turning into a cough. You always did like to win arguments and bargains – this was probably the silliest one he’d ever seen you strike though.

It seems the doctor has no more to tell you or brief you on but stays next to your bed, shuffling on his feet. You raise an eyebrow, “doc? Is there… any more you need?” you try and he coughs into his arm, “I’m sorry! It’s just…” and he directs his gaze to Shinsou and bows, “I’m sorry Mr. Brainwave but my nephew is a very big fan of you and I feel like he’d be elevated if I could perhaps… get your autograph… for him? If it’s not too much of a bother, of course, sir!” The Doctor raises his arms in front of him and almost draws his request back in sheer embarrassment, “I try to keep it professional but it’s rare that we get heroes here so I am a little starstruck at seeing you here, Brainwave sir!”

You let a laugh escape you as Shinsou smiles – to others it’s calm and collected but you don’t miss the absolute sparkles surrounding him right now from the sheer pride and joy of both being recognized and asked for an autograph.

The doctor scrambles to find a piece of paper that isn’t part of your medical chart so you interrupt him and ask Shinsou to hand you your bag on the table. Inside you find an old receipt and Shinsou raises an almost disappointed brow at you, “what! I’m not in school anymore, I don’t have my notebooks with me!” you defend as he takes the offered pen from the doctor and bends down by the little coffee table.

“What’s your nephew’s name?”

The doctor jumps in his spot in surprise at being asked, “Ah! Shouta, sir!” and an unreadable but soft smile graces Shinsou’s features again before writing a greeting together with the autograph. As he hands it to the doctor he laughs, “if he’d like his autograph on something cooler than a receipt for…” Shinsou takes a look at the other side of the paper, “…a six-pack of beer and 2 liters of ice cream, please don’t hesitate to stop by the agency with him.”

As the doctor excuses himself with a goofy smile and the autograph held gently between two fingers, he tells you that you’re free to leave after you’ve filled out some forms with the nurse. Shinsou starts tidying the room he’s inhabited with you for the last 12 hours or so. A nurse comes in 10 minutes later with a wheelchair, teaching Shinsou how to fold and otherwise use it.

When you’ve changed your clothes with help from the nurse, you go out to the reception to fill out the forms. Shinsou notices your contact is ‘Midoriya Inko’ and remembers that you always refer to her as your aunt – that’s most likely who you meant when you said you could stay at her place.

           You’re in the cab, caught in uncomfortable silence. What Shinsou wants most of all right now is a shower. He feels grimy and sticky and his hero costume’s clinging to him in the most uncomfortable ways but you have to stop by your hotel room on the way and get your things.

Instead of unloading the wheelchair and struggle with it, Shinsou insists on getting your keycard and goes to grab your things by himself. As you sit alone in the cab, regretting the decision, the driver looks back at you and sends you a kind smile, “it’s nice to have a partner,” he says and you can’t help the groan that leaves you before you collect yourself.

“He’s not my… I mean, he’ll probably be mad if I don’t correct you, at least.”

You send him an apologetic smile and he nods his head, changing the radio station. You wonder what he’s doing, feeling impatient after 10 minutes. Another five passes before Shinsou comes back with your suitcases and backpack and you are horribly reminded of the state you’d left your room in last night, your suitcases open and the content strewn all over the place – to be fair, you were just supposed to find some food last night, not get attacked and hospitalized. The driver gets out and helps Shinsou put it in the trunk, balancing it with the wheelchair.

When he comes in next to you again you apologize profusely and to your surprise, Shinsou simply laughs.

“It reminded me of your old dorm. Let’s just hope I got everything.”

You’re relieved he’s somehow calmed down enough to joke, so you laugh nervously along before giving out a new line of apologies. The rest of the trip is more comfortable and every time you sneak a glance at Shinsou and he notices and sends you a smile back. That’s… a good sign, right?

              As you arrive at his apartment, he gives you a quick tour. He places all of your bags in the bedroom and let you say hi to his cat, Candle. You can’t help but choke out a laugh at the name and when you ask where he got it from, he says she has the same color as the candle that was on his table at the time. He shows you the bathroom, the kitchen and the living room and how to sneakily reach things from the cabinets – as if you couldn’t stand on your left leg for a few seconds to grab something. Your phone rings with a notification for your medication, and Shinsou helps you get it from one of your suitcases, puts it all on the dresser so you can easily reach it – you’ve got a whole bag of it and while you tell him it looks worse than it actually is, he can’t help but bite his lip in worry and concern – mostly because he doesn’t know what it’s all for.

Shinsou then takes an hour-long shower before emerging fully dressed and practically running out of the apartment without looking at you. “There’s food in the fridge and cabinets. I have to go to a meeting at the agency, I’ll be back later,” he hastily tells you before grabbing his keys and locking the door after him. A sigh leaves you as soon as he’s gone, your body relaxing only slightly upon finally being alone. Candle jumps up on your lap and you enjoy the feeling of her purring on you as you try to gather your thoughts – the last week had been intense, to say the least.

A week ago you were on the other side of Earth, packing up the last of your things. Your parents had agreed to ship the rest of your things, like your furniture and bigger items, when you’d settled back in Japan and found a suitable place to live. Your parents hadn’t really approved of you moving before you had a place to call your own and while there wasn’t a lack of offers to help you get a place settled but you’d rather handle all this on your own. You wanted to get back and have a new start here, facing all the things you’d ended up running away from – even if it hadn’t been the intention back when you were forced to move away, you couldn’t deny that that’s what you had ended up doing, hurting so many people around you in the process.

You’d arrived back in Musutafu five days ago, Aunt Inko picking you up at the airport – you’d tried to convince her not to but she’d insisted that a familiar face should greet you at the airport like she’d always done. She’d been very distressed about you sleeping in a hotel and not at her place like you usually did but you’d insisted on this, since this was your start on your life here, “I’d just get too comfortable here, Auntie! I’d never get around to finding my own place,” you’d sheepishly told her and that seemed to deter her for now, at least. You didn’t know how to break the news that your body wouldn’t be able to handle going up and down from the fourth floor every day if you had to be there for longer than a week or two…

You push the wheelchair around Shinsou’s living room, taking stock of his interior design – or rather, lack of. On the dresser left of the dining table a framed picture of him and Aizawa stands, both of their smiles wide in front of U.A. You can’t hold back your own smile upon seeing it, guessing it must’ve been from his graduation – even though it’d only been a year after you left, you can’t help but marvel at the changes he’d went through in that single year alone. His shoulders had become even broader, jaw more accentuated and you can see he already got the new haircut – an undercut – back then. You shiver as you remember the sensation you’d felt last night, when vision had returned to you and you saw him – finally saw him again. It’d felt like seeing him for the first time all over again but with a wave of nostalgia rushing over you, a wave of absolute love. You weren’t surprised by how he looks – honestly? You’d kept tabs on him from afar, always keeping an eye on the Japanese news online, scanning the charts every year to see how he was doing – how the whole class was doing. You turn around and see a poster of cinema-quality is hanging above his couch of Present Mic, probably one you imagine might have been hanging in a bar as an advertisement for him coming to DJ once. It’s framed too, and the throw pillows on his couch have cats on them but that’s about it for his decoration. There are flowers on the dining table you notice but before you can give him credit for that, you realize they’re fake and you snort out loud. Being the number 39 Pro Hero on the charts probably ate up a lot of his time and you decide to give him credit anyways with a smile on your face.

                    Afterwards you go to the kitchen and find some instant noodles in his cabinet. You get up and balance yourself on the not-broken leg as you turn on the kettle while getting the oil and spices down into the cup. When they’re done, you decide to just eat them in the kitchen, seeing as you’re already sitting down in the wheelchair. How convenient, you muse. Candle settles back in your lap as you slurp up the last of the noodles.

You struggle to get the wheelchair back to the living room, still getting used to propelling yourself forward with your arms – already sore now that Shinsou isn’t pushing you around. As you get up on your left leg, you try to twist yourself so that you can land safely on your back on the couch. It’s easier said than done though, and you end up letting out a yelp as you land on the ground next to the couch. Candle comes running from where she was eating in the kitchen, stepping on your stomach in curiosity. You bellow out a loud laugh and scratch her ear. Your phone starts ringing and by the explosion themed ringtone, you’re already wincing, bracing for a verbal beating. You stretch up to reach the phone on the seat of the wheelchair and just as you’re about to press the green button, it stops ringing.

You go to call the number back but it rings sharply in your hands again before you open the menu. Before you can greet the other person, he starts growling, “don’t fucking ignore my calls, Jesus fuck.”

“Hi Bakugou,” you wince at how out of breath you sound and his scoff tells you everything, “care to fucking inform me why you were admitted to the fucking hospital last night?”

You sit up straighter, giving Candle some butt scratches as she’s scenting your wheelchair, “that’s creepy, how do you know? Also, that’s a lot of fucking’s.”

“You’re officially an employee at my fucking agency, pipsqueak, I keep track of my fucking people,” he deadpans in the other end and you groan out loud, “I’m not even working yet!” you try to argue but he just scoffs again, “and yet, you signed the contract last week. If you need a reminder; this is a Hero Agency, if someone gets admitted to a hospital, I’m being fucking informed. It’s in the contract!” his voice raises an octave at the last part and you’re sure that even though he’s pissed, he’s definitely restraining himself. Dumb fucker, you think. He mirrors your groan from before, “did you not read the contract?” he asks calmly, almost scaring you with how relaxed he suddenly sounds, definitely covering another feeling up.

“I… trust you?” you try, dragging your hand down your face, knowing the excuse is shitty at best. Bakugou throws a good number of colorful swearwords at you before deflating with a groan, “remind me to sit you the fuck down and make you read it aloud for me when you start Tuesday, holy shit.”

You start clicking your tongue in a small rhythm on the roof of your mouth as you give Candle a panicked expression, “…yeah, about that,” you drawl.

“What. Now?”

“The doctor… kinda ordered me, to… to uh, rest? I’m so sorry I’ll make it up to you!”

You hear Bakugou suck in a breath, “oh. Yeah shit, that makes sense. Are you okay?” and you’re momentarily taken aback by the softness that has entered Bakugou’s voice right then that you laugh, “you worried about me?”

“Yeah, so what if I am? How long do you need complete rest?”

You sometimes forget that Bakugou’s become an adult. He’s become softer around his jagged edges, more calm and less frustrated at the world. He’s become more honest, and that includes towards you as well, even if you believe you aren’t deserving of it. Eight months ago, when you saw him for the first time again after nine years, you’d almost been unsure if this was the Bakugou Katsuki that you grew up with or if he had been an impressive clone. He’d reached out to punch your arm but retracted it instantly before impact. Ouch, he’d heard about your condition from Midoriya and now he wanted to act all careful around you too.

“Two weeks.”

“Make it three and we’ll set you up thereafter.”

You sputter out protests as you gather the energy to crawl up on the couch, deciding that the floor isn’t comfortable anymore. It’s harder than you thought it’d be, with the giant cast attached to your leg.

“Bakugou please, my work is stationary at best.”

“There are no big missions that require a tactical genius in the near future, you can take your time recovering. This is a whole new branch I’m setting up; we’ve managed without a Tactical Department for years. Plus, if we need the fuckin’ help, you’re just a phone call away, right?”

You sigh out dramatically to let him know you’re really unsatisfied, “right?” he repeats with more bite.

“Got it, Boss.” You grumble out and he snickers at you, “it’s Boss Dynamite to you, thank you very much.”

He then hangs up and you send Candle a frustrated look as you blow raspberries out into nothing. She shows no sign of moving or reacting from the wheelchair where she’s sleeping comfortably. You’re finally situated on the couch, propping up your leg on the throw pillows as you let out a sigh. You really should’ve thanked Bakugou, you think belatedly.

                   “So you’re requesting… two weeks of vacation?” Midoriya looks at him from the other side of the desk, the raised eyebrow making Shinsou falter, if just for a moment. He’d just finished scolding Shinsou for leaving his partner last night. Maybe he is out of line, requesting this out of nowhere. But in Shinsou’s defense, he hasn’t taken a single vacation day the past three years and often takes the emergency shifts as well – Midoriya knows this.

When Shinsou says your name to explain though, Midoriya smiles, “oh yeah! It’s nice that they’re staying this time, right?” he confesses casually as he goes into the grueling scheduling program where the Hero rosters are planned – he’d often complained about how they should invest in a new system. He shuffles it around a bit and seem to remove Shinsou multiple places and Shinsou lets out a sigh of relief.

Wait.

This time?

Shinsou’s eyes widen at the implication of Midoriya’s words before he can really contain the expression and you can leave it to Pro Hero Deku, number seven on the charts to notice the miniscule changes in his expression within milliseconds. Midoriya winces and the nervousness he was so used to seeing back in high school but had taken a spot at the backburner of his life, resurfaces in his expression, “uh…” he dumbly lets out before Shinsou opens his mouth, “your mom’s in regular contact with them, right?”

Midoriya looks relieved that Shinsou lets him off the hook with that comment and nervously agrees. “I-I thought you knew, h-honestly.” He stammers and Shinsou has a feeling – based on the stuttering that Midoriya originally shed so many years ago – that he knows more than he lets on. Shinsou’s sure that it’s not Midoriya he needs to be grilling for answers though and leave the matter be. Since this is Midoriya and Todoroki’s joint agency, the request for vacation goes by fairly smooth for Shinsou and he’s grateful.

“It needs to go through the HR and the likes, so your vacation isn’t… official? Before the day after tomorrow, but I’ve removed you from the roster the next few days! So you’re clear to go!”

Midoriya circles around the desk after they’ve both gotten up and puts a supporting hand on Shinsou’s shoulders, “I’m not telling you not to be angry but… yeah,” Midoriya seems to be at a loss for any other words but takes Shinsou into a hug nonetheless, “I’m so sorry, Shinsou… please, call me if you need to, alright? Your feelings in this matter, too.”

The ominous weight of Midoriya’s words sink in slowly as he sends Midoriya a confused gaze. But he also knows that Midoriya cares about the both of you – so he doesn’t need to be in the business of asking him to choose between you two or explain what he shouldn’t. He hugs him back and promises to reach out if needed before leaving.

Midoriya had been there for him through the ugly parts after you left. He’d observed and went through the same pain that Shinsou had gone through, becoming a constant and supporting pillar in Shinsou’s life while he’d worked hard to become a new and stable pillar in the hero world.

Shinsou’s life had never been pretty, had never been ideal – but you, you had been. You were a positive aspect in his life and while Shinsou had been abandoned before, it hadn’t hurt nearly as much as when you did it – because the first time? He was too young to remember the concrete feelings. Too young to fully grasp the harm he’d been given for simply existing with a quirk like his. But you’d chosen him, chose to be a part of him and wiggled yourself into his angry heart only to hurt it.

And the hurt you’d put him through wasn’t anything he’d ever experienced, or would ever experience again, he thinks. Not even when he was 21 and ended in a coma, followed by the most grueling recovery process afterwards. Not even when a prominent figure in his life had lost two limbs when he was 24 could compare to the gaping wound that you’d inflicted upon him, offering no closure or healing process. He’d hurt and cried and ached – and his first instinct? His first instinct every time was that he wanted to talk to you. His sick heart wanted to reach out to the one person who’d made it sick in the first place and his anger have seemed bottomless, always simmering, just at the edge of the boiling point inside him ever since.

Shinsou doesn’t realize he’s crying until the elderly lady in front of him in the bus hands him a handkerchief and a soft smile. He’s grateful he went to the agency in regular clothes and not his hero costume today, he thinks as he wipes a tear. A scenario like that would’ve been all over Hero! News.

                            You don’t get to rest for long on the couch before your phone is ringing again, this time it’s the All Might ringtone Midoriya made you buy in the app store before you even moved from Japan. You hurry to pick it up, trying not to sound too exhausted. “I can’t believe you haven’t told Shinsou anything. Like, ever.” Midoriya starts out and judging by the background noises and the time of day, he’s on his way to his favorite convenience store to pick up his lunch – that’s his usual go time to call you, anyway. “I thought you weren’t going to meddle?” you try, although you know this isn’t out of place, he’s dragged into this against his will whether you want him to or not. “Yeah, because I trusted you to contact him. He hasn’t mentioned you in at least four or five years, so I thought you’d at least sent him a freaking letter or something.” Midoriya is about to say something more but you hear fans screeching and asking for his autograph on the other end. You wait patiently as he talks to his fans, humoring their small talk and answering their questions. You clear your throat and he laughs just a little louder as if telling you to be quiet – his audacity has only heightened as he grew older, you think in frustration. Today has been taxing enough already and it’s only lunch.

He politely says goodbye to his fans and the change in his voice almost scares you, “Shinsou just left the office. You’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do. You’re going to live at his place?” he says your name in a reprimanding tone that sounds way too much like his mother’s and a shiver runs down your spine, “please don’t do this to him.”

“I didn’t want to!” you can’t help the volume you yell it at, scaring Candle on the wheelchair, “I wanted to start over with him like a normal fucking person, I wanted to crawl to him, beg for his forgiveness and give him all my apologies and more. I wanted to make it up to him in endless ways that’d give him time as well! This wasn’t how I fucking planned it either, so don’t give me that tone.”

Midoriya’s quiet for a few beats too long and you heave out a sigh as you hold back tears, “I didn’t want to do it this way, he doesn’t deserve it this way,” and Midoriya can’t do anything but coo at you – the same way he used to do it when you were children and you’d scraped your knee, the same way he used to do it after Bakugou had beaten you to a pulp, the same sickening comfort that almost automatically eases the burning of your nerve endings as you drag in another deep breath at his demand, “he doesn’t deserve it this way.” You repeat with a shudder.

Midoriya doesn’t know what else to say but some standard, comforting chitchat as you calm back down. He tells you that it takes 20 minutes from his agency to Shinsou’s apartment, so that you can expect him home soon and to brace yourself. He tries to end it with the comforting reminder that you’d finally have each other in your lives again. If he even wants that, you think to yourself bitterly before agreeing with Midoriya so you can hang up faster and catch your breath.

                        Shinsou unlocks his door as quietly as he can. He’s not sure why, Candle will hear him either way and you’d be alerted by his arrival as soon as he opens the door anyway. As he closes the door behind him, Candle comes into the hallway, stretching her body on the way, Shinsou smiles as he puts his keys on the dresser, “hey, have you been sleeping?”

He bends down to scratch her chin and is about to ask her something else, maybe about her day in his embarrassingly shrill voice he only uses for her until he remembers you’re in the next room, able to hear it all.  He blushes at the thought and realizes that it’s been a while since he’s been embarrassed around people he knows.

But does he even really know you anymore? He gulps as he gets back on his feet, walking into the living room. You’re settled on the couch, your leg propped up on the pillows – which he’s happy about, because he wasn’t actually sure how much you listened as the doctor told you how to accommodate it best. You’re snoring softly and Shinsou’s overcome with a deep-seated need to bend down and run a hand through your hair. He isn’t even aware that he’s acted on the urge before he’s face to face with you and notice the streak of a tear that’s been running down your cheek.

He hurries to get back up to his full height as you start turning, blinking slowly a few times as if taking in your surroundings. Shinsou just stares at you dumbstruck, still not quite understanding that you’re here at all, in his life, in his apartment. You greet him through a yawn and Shinsou waves at you – before grabbing his own hand to stop himself, why did he go for a wave?

“We need to talk.”

Shinsou’s in the kitchen, making a quick lunch for himself before having… the talk? With you. He’s running hot today and keep wiping his hands on his shirt, trying to figure out how he’s feeling. Right now, it’s frustration. As he’d seen you wake up on his couch, all anger had dissipated and only love and worry and something warm was bubbling inside him upon seeing your face up close. And that pissed him off he decides, as he stands in the kitchen and puts butter on the bread. He had every right to be angry, the hurt had hurt him.

It'd hurt at different times too, but mostly when he prepared coffee, he realizes as he’s preparing one for each of you. Just how many times had he subconsciously prepared your fucking cup of coffee as if you’d be anywhere near him to drink it? To enjoy it? He knew your coffee by muscle memory alone and how many years hadn’t he spend unlearning that cursed technique? How many times had he woken up fine, slept fine, only to pour the milk in the wrong amount that wasn’t to his tastes but yours? How the hurt had resurfaced, without him wanting it to. How he’d been drowning in a swirl of black, thick coffee, completely caged in his grief as he suffocated to thoughts of you.

The most laughable part of it all is that he still knows exactly how it’s supposed to be prepared, he realizes as he’s standing here, pouring the boiled water gently.                  

 He puts down the cup in front of you by the table and sits down across from you, eating his lunch in silence. You take a sip of the coffee and he doesn’t miss the solemn expression that rests on your face upon tasting it, instantly melting further down in the wheelchair in a state of peace, it seems.

As he finishes rinsing the plate he comes back in with his cup of coffee and sends you a questioning look. “I’m not sure if you or I should start,” he says, biting his lower lip in worry. He fears what might come out of your mouth within the next minutes – or his, if he’s to begin this. He’s not entirely sure he won’t yell at you.

“Let me. I’m the reason we’re in this…” you confess, your grip on the cup tightening.

There’s a beat of silence before you inhale deeply, “I suffer from… or hm, I have… uh, chronic pain?” you pause to think about how you want to relay this to him. You don’t want to sound weak in front of him – not him. You know it’s not the mindset you should have but being with Shinsou makes you incredibly immature, shrinking you back to your teenage self.  Shinsou sits patiently by the dinner table across from you and waits. He seems to be in no hurry at first glance but the fidgeting of his fingers tells another story – he’s trying to do it underneath the table, but you’re not blind to the movements of his shoulders and arms.

“It’s called arthritis and fibromyalgia. The arthritis is… it’s… uh, an autoimmune disease? My bones are grinding? And… it’s basically my body attacking itself and destroying healthy shit… and uh, fibromyalgia, as well that’s… it signals pain, where there shouldn’t be… any?” you try to go by the simple, short, textbook definitions of the two diagnoses, to lessen the overwhelming experience it can be for some. You’re not sure how much knowledge Shinsou has in this field, so going the classic way might make it easier, you decide. He can hear about the specifics you go through after you’ve finished groveling in front of him with endless apologies.

You curse yourself for not having planned this moment any better as you look up and see Shinsou looking perplexed. “It started… almost right after we moved. At first, I was told it had to be the weather, the change in climate, or that…” you take a moment to control your breathing, “…it had to be my body reacting to a big emotional thing like moving… then, that I wasn’t training enough – and suddenly that I was training too much,” you feel your pulse quicken as the anger from the early days rises in you again like a volcano that’d been dormant for a few years now ready to scream and sputter molten hot lava out to destroy it’s nearby grounds in heavy growls.

The complete and utter dismissal you’d been met with had made the whole process take years. The toll it’d taken on you, the invalidation others ended up putting you through – maybe you’d just been sensitive? Maybe you were just lashing out at your parents as retaliation for making you move? Maybe it was all in your head? Maybe it didn’t really hurt as much as you said? You shake your head and take a deep breath to come back to the now. The now with Shinsou in front of you, demanding answers to why you’ve hurt him so deeply.

You bite your lip that’s beginning to wobble as your eyes land on the table to avoid eye contact, “it made me… exhausted and embarrassed. I couldn’t… I couldn’t make myself reach out when it started because… I’d only been met with vague emotions and reactions of ‘get it together’, you know? And that was the people who were physically close me and saw what it did to me!” you feel tears prickling and angrily lift your hand to wipe it away, determined not to falter as you try to control your breathing. You didn’t want Shinsou’s pity. You wanted his understanding but by God, never his pity.

“I was just… so exhausted. And I barely had any vocabulary to explain what was happening to me at the time… and the going-away party you all held for me – the one where you all celebrated the hero I’d become? God I was so embarrassed… I couldn’t make myself tell you all the things that were hurting… I was terrified of appearing weak. Sometimes, I still am.”

You’d spent many years processing all the things that’d happened to you back then, the things you have had to give up, the things that were still happening to you, but talking about the early days still did something, something you weren’t entirely happy about. The disbelief your parents had served you, the exasperation your new Pro Hero teachers had exuded in a strange and foreign country, the skepticism the doctors had offered you, you’d felt so alone.

You take in a deep breath and decide to go for the practical stuff to distance yourself from the emotions for a bit, “Midoriya was informed due to our mother’s keeping contact. Inko probably told him…” you sigh, “the first time I came back here was five years ago, after they finally started testing me, to meet up with Recovery Girl. I’ve been here once a year since, for short periods of time. I’ve lived with Auntie Inko every time and uh, Bakugou’s mom saw me as I visited Inko and told him afterwards.” You take a pause to level your breathing again. You feel like all you’re doing right now is making up excuses, but you feel like he should know the circumstances, “there are few healing quirks at all in the world, and I’ve been with most of them, actually.” You laugh bitterly as your eyes trail to Candle, sprawled out on the floor next to the table, looking comfortable. You’re afraid to look at Shinsou, what if he looks disapproving?

“It’s not… something to be healed. Just like they can’t heal diabetes or asthma – or Parkinson’s, I’m stuck like this. And it, fuck, I should go to therapy for all of this,” a thin laugh leaves you as you look to the ceiling in an effort to avoid crying again, your hands clenched on the table despite the pain in them, crescent shaped indents in your palm threatening to draw blood.

                Shinsou dares not to look directly at you in fear that he might start crying if he does. It’s a lot to process, for starters. You’d been in pain? For so many years? A seasoned Pro Hero like him isn’t a stranger to pain, but he imagines yours is just a little different than what he goes through and cringes at himself for even comparing the two. You’re breathing is ragged at best and your hands are so fidgety that he almost feels restless just by observing them out of the corner of his eye. You’re taking a sip of your coffee to alleviate the agitation and suddenly he feels relieve rather than the anger upon the fact that he still remembers the way you like it, if it can ease you for just a second.

Shinsou has spent many years imagining you as a Pro Hero in a foreign country. He’d searched foreign websites in unknown tongues, tried to decipher the names to try and find yours on there. After a few years he’d become unsure if he perhaps just remembered the country incorrectly so he went through almost all of the European countries’ lists of heroes. He’d imagined you as an amazing hero, perhaps a hero who needed to go undercover or even one who had become an underground one, much like his beloved mentor. Any explanation he could come up with to rationalize your disappearing would hurt a lot less than what was the most possible reality.

Anything would hurt less than the pure, unadulterated truth; you’d left him. You’d abandoned him. He wasn’t sure if he’d decided on that truth solely to shield himself or to try and move on but it’d hurt like hell. He’s spent many years trying to reason it, trying to convince himself that wasn’t the case – but experience only told his brain that he’d once again been abandoned. He’s not sure he’s done recovering from it to this day; so as he sits in front of you by his dinner table, hearing about your life like it hasn’t been 10 years. 10 years of hurt, 10 years of a gaping wound, 10 years of jokingly – but not so jokingly, deep down – considering open-heart surgery in an attempt to cut out the you-shaped piece inside him, just so he didn’t have to feel hurt all the Goddamn time and claw at his chest every other night as he lets out gross sobs in the wake of a nightmare related to you and that stupid, fucking murky coffee.

So he’s not entirely sure how to feel right now.

While he’s harboring great sympathy, prolonged pain does something to one’s empathy, he thinks as he heaves out a sigh. One part of him is ready to embrace you and tell you that he’s here. But another part is ready to throw you to the curb. Abandon you like you abandoned him. Because it hurts.

At the same time he can feel a new kind of hurt scream from his ribcage, clouding the existing hurt with wails of recognition, of clarity. Somehow, it doesn’t really matter that you’d been here five or six times without contacting him, without reaching out, it almost doesn’t matter that other people knew when he didn’t, because all this hurt is weeping about, is that fact that you’ve been alone, going through all of this. You’d had no support system. His body is aching from the thought of you, all alone and his hand instinctively go to the silver chain around his neck, hidden underneath his shirt because he isn’t sure how to tell you that he still carries your ring with him.

So when he finally looks at you, he almost starts sobbing right then and there. He feels empty and filled with love at the same time. He feels like the inky black coffee he’d felt drowned in every other night start to embrace him and remind him that you’re here and that you didn’t… abandon him. The thought feels strange and foreign in his mind and he’s not sure he’s supposed to… forgive you, this fast, but there’s something about seeing you in flesh and blood in front of him with a reason.

Candle jumps up on the dinner table and meows dramatically, demanding that focus shifts to her and you both let out shaky laughs through sobs and sniffles. At the same time you reach out to pet her and she falls to show you her stomach, demanding duo-pets.

As your hands touch, your warmth bleeds into his and he can’t hold back a gasp as he feels the icy cage around his heart start to melt slowly but surely as the heart kicks into overdrive. You’re looking up at him with a hopeful look and he tries to smile back, hoping it translates his heart’s aching words, I’m here, I’ll stay by you.

You wipe a tear as Candle starts purring and Shinsou clears his throat, “this feels like an entirely stupid question and I’m not even sure I’m allowed to ask–“

“Please, you can ask me all the stupid questions you want,” you smile and send him a warm look.

“–you haven’t become a hero, have you?”

You sigh out and retract your hand from Candle and Shinsou immediately starts panicking, no no no no no, don’t push me away, feeling anger churn in his stomach for even asking such a foolish question.

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘I was made into a weapon and then asked to find peace’? That describes pretty well how I’ve felt…” you look down and wrap your arms around yourself, a heartbreaking smile on your lips. “I’ve always… had a purpose, for all I did. Always needed to try and get enough sleep so my body was ready for whatever fight I had to participate in. Part of being a good hero is to take care of your body, you know?” and Shinsou is sent back to all the times you reminded him of that phrase as you showed up by his room with a plate of dinner when he hadn’t had the energy to show up or forced him to take a nap while you studied or read in his room.

“I stopped knowing what… standard to live by. My body belonged to my dream, you know? Eating healthy, going for runs and keeping my martial arts sharp, keeping the body fit to be a hero… none of that suddenly mattered anymore when I couldn’t even do the fucking dishes or get up from the bed. Fighting was all that I was and I’m not even sure I’ve truly discovered what I am without it, yet.”

You sigh, taking another big sip of your coffee. “It’s by some miracle that I have the quirk that I have. I’m lucky, you know?” you sound bitter as you spit out the last sentence, your grip on the cup tightening.

“After Bakugou heard what… was going on – from Midoriya, most likely, he contacted me… he called my parents and called my parent’s work until I was forced to talk to him,” you snort and a little warmth returns to your eyes, “he offered me a job, he offered to make a whole fucking department in his agency for me. And he just. He did that, and I… I hadn’t been able to see color for a while and when he did that, I got up, you know?”

Shinsou sees you bite your lip, “I got up from under the covers, I made the bed, right?”

Shinsou swallows thickly, completely entranced by your voice. To him, it felt almost like you were the owner of his quirk and had commanded him listen – because he couldn’t do anything but listen after every word like it was water and he was dying of thirst. Your voice and story his oasis.

“And I decided to accept it and come back. I decided to face whatever I’m facing… head on. And that included you.”

You lick your lip as you look around the apartment, a clear attempt to avoid looking at Shinsou. “I’m so fucking sorry, Shinsou, you never deserved this.”

He doesn’t miss the quiver in your voice and you finally look at him, your hands reaching out. He’s about to reach out as well, take your hands in his when Candle swats at them, once again showing her belly and demanding focus returns to her.

Once again, she makes you both smile and look at each other as you both pet her soft stomach.

You look back down, “I never meant to hurt you the way I did. I never meant to lock you out of my life because by God, I missed you. I wanted to reach out so bad, I was just so afraid. And I can’t say anything but tell you how absolutely sorry I am and beg for your forgiveness.”

Shinsou feels taken back at your words. He’d never seen himself as someone so important as to need someone groveling for his forgiveness.

“I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I don’t expect you to forgive me now, or anytime. You have a… right, not to, of course. I get that you’re angry, you’re allowed to be. But just know,” you grab his hands – rather forcefully, he notices – from Candle’s belly and caress his wrist with your thumbs, “I’ll do anything to have you back in my life. I didn’t plan for it to go…” you gesture to the wheelchair you’re sitting in, “…like this, obviously. I wanted to come into your life gradually, give you time to adjust… to forgive, properly. And Shinsou,” you look him deep in the eyes and he gulps, “I’ll gladly move out again today if you need it. I’ll manage, if you’re worried.”

Shinsou feels like he’s floating, so he doesn’t say anything as he processes your words. He feels that he’s not in his body right now as he observes you. This feels like everything he’s ever dreamed of during the nights he’d allowed wishful thinking to rot and infest his brain. He’s shaking, he registers as he tries to blink. Hearing you say all the words he needed, lifts him completely from the tar-like ink he’d been drowning in ever since he realized you weren’t going to call him back 10 years ago. And once again, you’re telling him the words he needs to hear, like you did back when you wormed into his heart the first time.

A sob leaves him, as he squeezes your hands back. A hopeful laugh combined with a sob leaves you as you observe his reaction. Shinsou retracts his hands and he doesn’t miss the initial panic written on your face and how it immediately turns into unadulterated relief as he rounds the table to gather you in a soul-crushing hug.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he grits out as he still bravely tries to hold back from full-on crying, wanting to avoid overwhelming you.

You stay this way for several minutes and Shinsou’s back is aching from bending over you like this but he can’t really convince himself to let go anytime soon, so relieved that you’re here. You sob into his chest, clenching at his t-shirt and shaking in his arms. He registers your tears soaking through his t-shirt in the back of his mind as he adjusts his arms around you, cooing into your hair and kissing the crown of your head, mirroring what you used to do with him when you were younger.

You’re whispering out strews of apologies and he’s telling you it’s okay and to let it out and that he’s here as he gently starts to massage your back. You wince at the movement and shies away from his hand and he retracts himself from you in panic.

“Sorry, it’s just… sometimes, being touched hurts,” you admit as you wipe your cheek from tears and he apologizes with a panicked expression.

“No, no, don’t apologize!” you hurry to get out as you reach out for his arms again, “it’s just… a lot, right now?” you wince and caresses his arm with your hands, “I’m just… overwhelmed,” and you can’t hold back a yawn. He offers you to take a nap in the bedroom and you look… sad? He’s not sure he reads the expression right.

You pout, “I just. I’m finally… talking to you, you know?” Shinsou can’t hold back a chuckle as he realizes you’re being sleepy and childish. “We’ll have all the time in the world to talk from now on, don’t we?” he smirks as you cross your arms in front of you. “But I want to talk right now,” you try and he lets a laugh rumble out from the pits of his stomach, his cheeks warming up from the giddiness, “I’ll go in there with you if needed but if you’re tired, you need rest.”

                         “When’s your next shift?” you ask tentatively as you rub your eyes and get comfortable in his bed. Shinsou’s standing by the bottom of the bed, fluffing up a pillow for your leg despite your protests. He looks away from you, “eh, not in a few days– is this alright?” He’s placing the pillow gently and you raise your leg, “it’s more than fine, Shinsou, thank you.”

He’s blushing as he walks over to his closet to grab the extra duvet that’s been folded meticulously so it’d fit inside the bottom drawer. You get comfortable – as comfortable as you can at least, with the giant cast that’s making every sleeping position you like out of the question. You sigh dramatically and flail around a bit and Shinsou laughs at you from the other side of the bed.

He’s shuffling on his feet, unsure on whether or not to get into the bed with you – does he lie down or does he sit up? You pat the space next to you with a smile and Shinsou’s heart explodes at the implication of possible cuddles. Your cuddles were always the best, he remembers fondly but he’s unsure if it’s too soon. It definitely is, right?

So he mechanically sits up against the headboard, putting the still folded duvet on his lap, clearing his throat. He’s sure you’ve noticed how stiff he is, but you don’t comment on it as you fold your own duvet into a huggable cuddle partner.

You yawn as you reach out a hand towards him, tugging him just a tad closer but never forcing him into more than necessary. Shinsou’s about to ask if you’re comfortable but as his gaze lands on you, realizes you’re already asleep. He huffs out a soundless laugh, more pushing air out of his nose and lets his hand reach your cheek, caressing it for a few seconds before sitting more comfortably. He can do this, he thinks.

He can have you back in his life, and he will support you in every way he possibly can – every way you weren’t supported, when you’d been due for it, he decides. Having you here is more than plenty to forgive you again.

                    Shinsou’s in the kitchen, serving the rice in bowls. It’s been a while since he’s made a fully homecooked meal, with all the overtime he’s been doing lately, but cooking for someone else has become one of his preferred pastimes and he proudly observes the food before starting to set the table in the living room.

Admittedly, he’d been in the mood to make you a more traditional-style meal, suspecting you’ve been living off convenience store food since you arrived. He also isn’t sure how much traditional food you’d gotten back west, so he thought it’d be fun to make some. He just hadn’t considered that his mushrooms and carrots had gone bad in his fridge, and that he hadn’t thawed any meat from the freezer. So the only meat he had was chicken breast he’d bought on sale yesterday before his shift and still hadn’t sorted into the freezer (luckily, otherwise there probably wouldn’t have been enough meat).

So he makes do with what he’s got which led to him setting the table with seasoned rice, a few vegetables and chicken cut into smaller pieces and fried with some garlic and ginger. So as he’s finished setting the table, he nods to himself before going into the bedroom.           

You’re still asleep, Candle propped up by your face, stealing half of your pillow from you, your arm lodged underneath her stomach. She’s glaring at Shinsou for interrupting this moment and jealousy rises in him for a second that his cat seems displeased at his arrival. He walks to the bed and gently calls your name a few times, but you don’t seem to stir.

So he leans over the bed and gently nudges at you, and you groan. “There’s dinner,” he tries and you let out a snore before burrowing your face into the pillow. “’s nice here,” you mumble out and he’s unsure if he hears you correctly, “smells like you.” and Shinsou’s horribly reminded that you’re currently asleep in the sheets that he’s supposed to change this weekend, red marking his features as he turns more desperate in getting you up, embarrassed that he even let you sleep in it to begin with.

You whine out his name as he pushes you gently, clearly unhappy at the prospect of being forced out of your slumber. He promises you a bigger portion of rice than him, and you seem more willing – though he struggles still.

“You’re being unfair,” you grumble as you finally sit up in the bed, your cheeks puffed up in a pout. He can’t hold back a laugh at your frame, looking so debauched and exhausted. “I have jetlag still, you know!” you argue and Shinsou doesn’t argue back but just teasingly tells you to hurry before Candle eats your portion of dinner. “By the way, we need to go grocery shopping tomorrow, if there’s to be… more than cup noodles in the apartment,” Shinsou says by the doorframe until he remembers the wheelchair and hurries back to push you into the living room.                

 “I’ll change the sheets later, by the way, and set up on the couch.”

You nod as you take a bite of chicken, “I’ll help! Would you mind if one of the suitcases stay in the living room then? I promise to keep it as tidy as possible!”

“Why would you want it away from you?” Shinsou doesn’t look at you as he’s taking a sip of water, “you’re sleeping in the bedroom.”

“What are you talking about? This is your home!” you protest, sending him a glare you hope is convincing. He shakes his head, “nuh-uh, not happening. You’re injured,” he argues and you groan, “so?”

He’s still avoiding eye contact, which makes you puff out your cheeks in a pout, kicking him under the table with your good leg. “Hey!” he sends you a scowl but at least he’s looking at you.

“Shinsou, I can’t force myself into your apartment like this and take your bedroom from you.”

He chews on a piece of chicken, “I forced you in here, remember? And I don’t mind you having it and that’s final.”

You’re not sure whether or not to keep arguing, so you let out a dissatisfied groan and continue eating your food, letting him have his way.

              You’re on the couch, sprawled out and eating chips from a bowl strategically placed on your stomach. Shinsou’s in the corner of the couch with your legs on his lap. There’s a documentary about sea creatures in the television, giving you frightening facts about the deep sea. As it shows a squid that’s bioluminescent you gasp dramatically at a cut where it’s moving through the water. Shinsou snorts at you, “is it really that amazing? That red squid?”

“Hey! It’s the Saturoteathisis Syrtensusis, at least show it some respect and say its proper name!” and he laughs again, “there is no way you pronounced that correctly,” and you throw a potato chip after him, smirking as you hit him square on the forehead.

“Not much is known about the Stauroteuthis Syrtensis’s reproduction process. When they have been observed in the wild, they are alone...”

“See, you didn’t say it like that!” Shinsou points an accusatory finger at the screen with confidence and you simply grab another chip and throw it into your mouth, loudly chewing on it, “that’s the exact way I said it, you dingus.”

He puffs out an annoyed breath, shaking his head as he decides not to fight this matter further. It’s been a few days since you arrived in his apartment like a whirlwind and you’d spent the last few days getting reacquainted – it took surprisingly little to fall into comfortable, old habits and the atmosphere was generally comfortable. He’d been interested in learning your medication’s names and when you took them, so he could help you grab them from the dresser when you needed them – he’d listened intently to how you experienced the pain and which symptoms you suffered from, been allowed to ask all the “dumb” questions and generally been supportive – his cooking had surprised you as he’d gotten surprisingly good at it, but you’d reveled in it – and perhaps, teased him just a bit. He wasn’t afraid to tease back, and the bickering was familiar, safe, warm.

Tonight, Kaminari and Sero’s going to come over. Kaminari had been blowing up Shinsou’s phone upon finding out that he took vacation – “you took vacation!?” you’d exclaimed in surprise and he’d grumbled out something unintelligible – and then told Kaminari to shut up, earning a very loud and screechy “WHO’S WITH YOU?” to which Shinsou had almost dropped his phone. He’d looked to you for permission, unsure if he was allowed to tell your rowdy friends of your arrival.

Needless to say, they’d been excited. Shinsou’s bouncing his leg and you feel the nervousness emit from his body in waves as your eyes are trained on the documentary. “Hey, are you alright?” you ask with worry, turning down the volume of the TV.

“There’s uh, something I gotta, uh, tell you… about them, specifically Denki,” he says shakily and you sit up a bit straighter, nervous for what news he’s going to break.

“They’re dating, Sero and Denki.”

You accidentally snort out a laugh before clearing your throat, nodding solemnly. “I remember that they were into each other already back then, yes,” you say with all the seriousness you can muster. Shinsou blushes and looks at you incredulously, “that’s not the part that’s important! I’m opening the story here, Jesus,” he says as he crosses his arms in disappointment. You snicker, “sorry Mr. Storyteller, please continue.”

He sends you a look – but it’s without any heat as a sigh follows, seemingly steeling himself for his coming news, “Denki and I used to… date… for like 6 months…” and he hides his face in his hands. You’ve never sat up faster in your life, effectively letting the bowl of chips slip from your stomach and tumble to the floor, “no way!” you exclaim and Shinsou sighs rather dramatically, “…yeah.”

“How did that happen?”

“It’s dumb, please!” Shinsou tries, hoping you’re going to let him rat out of the explanation.

You’re not though, definitely not.

He groans and let his hands fall to your legs, accidentally landing on your cast with too much force and you yelp. He panics and apologizes and you send him a sly smirk, “I’ll forgive you only if you serve me the tea.”

“Can I still ask you to leave my apartment?” he tries, dragging his hands down over his face. You kick him lightly with your left foot, “no way in hell. Now, spill the deeds!”

He huffs out a breath as he rests both hands on your cast, wrapping them together as he straightens his back. “After you left… uh, I was… touch-starved?” a twinge of guilt runs through you at his admission, “I don’t know if that’s the right word…” he thinks it over, tasting different words on his tongue before muttering one out loud, “I was lonely. And Kaminari was… going through a whole epiphany with his sexuality, you know. And adulthood was so scary for both of us. The dolt was also convinced Sero was straight, apparently.”

A snort leaves you at the image of Kaminari being so utterly blind. “We both needed comfort, I guess? So we… got together. Like, on a basis that was just casual. But we did end up being together for half a year or so.”

You send a mental thank you note to Kaminari for taking care of Shinsou while you’ve been gone, glad he’s had a support system back then, keeping the jealousy currently rising inside you deep down, down where it doesn’t need to be discussed. “Wait, when was this?”

“When we were like, 19, shortly after we’d graduated, so it’s ancient history, I swear!” Shinsou seems eager to convince you and you reach out a hand to his arm, “it’s okay, take it easy,” and you squeeze his arm. He blushes and you assume it’s because he’s thinking of Kaminari, so you send him a warm smile, “so, Kaminari’s your type?” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows at him. An expression of panic goes on his face as he looks at you with wide eyes and open mouth, “no! My type is like…” and it seems he bites his tongue to stop himself. You pat his arm before retracting it, trying to conceal your own beating heart and nervousness, tutting at yourself mentally for hoping he'd said it was you who’d been his type. If you’d ever had a shot with Shinsou, that shot had passed you 10 years ago, you reason to yourself as you bend down to pick up the bowl and chips with a solemn smile.

He seems to be quiet as well, as he observes you clean up the floor after you. “Why’d you tell me?” you ask quietly, trying to suppress your timidness. “Huh?”

“There must be a reason you’re telling me, right?” you retract your legs from him so you can sit up and put the bowl on the coffee table, putting distance between you as you fear the answer. “Oh, because Kaminari still doesn’t let me live it down. I’m guessing he’s going to tell you about it later, so I wanted you to hear it from me, at least.”

You try to force out a laugh at him, “sounds like him.” You move to get back up on the wheelchair, and he instantly rises to come over and help you. He’s been good like that, always coming to help you whenever you need it and pushing you wherever he’s able to. Yesterday, you even went to the park together, just because you wanted to get outside for a bit. “Where to?” he asks and you hide your face, “I was just going to go to the kitchen with the bowl…”

Shinsou sighs loudly and grabs the bowl from your hands, “I could’ve just done that!”          

 It’s 8PM and it is loud. The moment Sero and Kaminari entered the apartment, it’s been loud and bustling and warm. They’re so happy to see you despite the fact that you’d practically ghosted them for 10 years, giving you long and loving hugs, welcoming you back with soft smiles. You’ve decided to all sit by the dinner table and play a boardgame, a thing you can be part of without awkwardly taking up the entire couch or point too much attention to your wheelchair.

You’re playing Monopoly, and Kaminari’s getting his ass handed to him in such a way that he’s currently leaned over you and crying. While crying in your embrace, his arm keeps sneaking up to try and take some of your money, but to no avail, since you stand strong and diligently swaps his hand away at every attempt. While Sero and Shinsou is crushing both you and Kaminari and effectively making you rack up debt after debt, you’re getting to re-know the two of them as they tell you about their lives. Kaminari works at Mt. Agency and Sero actually works in Bakugou’s agency, making him your colleague in just a few short weeks. You think you see Shinsou make a grimace at that, but the moment is gone too soon for you to dig into. “So that’s you! I heard that they were setting up a new department to tackle the whole tactical part of our work! That’s so interesting!” Sero admits and enthusiastically asks for details and tells you of your future workplace as well.

You tell them in minor details about your conditions and Kaminari puts a supporting hand on your shoulder as you open up – with less tears than with Shinsou, you notice when you’re done. Sero and Kaminari moved in together just a year ago and Shinsou’s right – Kaminari does not waste a single opportunity to mention that they dated, mostly to tease Shinsou. You can’t help but feel out of the loop when Sero awkwardly tells him to stop embarrassing Shinsou or spill secrets that weren’t his to tell – unsure of what any of that meant.

As you’re about to admit defeat in the cursed boardgame, Candle jumps up on the table. It’s her fourth attempt to land on the board tonight and this time she succeeds. The boardgame pieces are strewn every which way and she doesn’t hesitate to flick her paws at all the bundles of money on Shinsou’s side of the table. There’s roaring laughter as Shinsou frantically tries to get her away so he can retain his victory. After she’s successfully transported to your lap to receive punishment pets – “I thought she hated everyone but you?” Sero comments to Shinsou and you preen at the implication – Kaminari snickers as he announces that since the whole board is now a mess, they should call it quits. Everyone nods and agrees until he stands up dramatically to bow, “thank you all for the support, I am glad to announce that I was the winner! Hanta my dear, I am sorry to tell you this, but you got fourth place!”

“Hah? What’s up with that logic?” Shinsou asks as he’s collecting all the small house figures. You laugh and play along, “yeah, Shinsou, I’m sorry about third place. I’m honored to be number two tonight!” and you give Kaminari a high-five. “You guys were nowhere near winning!” Sero pouts and Kaminari winks, “you have no way of proving that now, do you? I mean, the board’s a mess. That money could’ve easily been ours!”

“But it wasn’t!” he tries and you cross your arms with a solemn expression, “it’s your words against ours, I’m afraid.”

Shinsou snorts and whispers something to Sero, who upon hearing the secret, shares a knowing smirk. With a teasing glint, he concludes, “well if the children want the win, I guess I’ll be the bigger person and let them.”

Your jaw drops, unsure whether or not to take the bait – before you can decide though, Kaminari’s already taken it and run with it. “Sadly, you can’t be the bigger person when you’re so short.” Shinsou can’t help but chuckle at the comeback and Sero pouts, “you’re less than an inch taller than me!” and Kaminari tuts at him, “doesn’t change the fact that I’m still taller.” And you look at them, bewildered, “didn’t Sero used to be the tall one?” and Kaminari lights up like a Christmas tree at the question, already jumping over next to Sero to prove that he’s grown since high school. Sero looks significantly less amused but still gets up from the chair so you can compare the two. “I had a growth spurt!” he proudly admits and you hear Shinsou chuckle out an “about time” as he puts the boardgame back in the second drawer of the dresser.

              Shinsou’s standing with two different kinds of ketchup’s in hand, giving you the biggest pout he can muster, “but it’s the best one,” he whines, holding up the Heinz Ketchup higher than the local one. You’re currently trying to convince him to buy said local one, because it’s the one you like – you’ve been trying to use the price as the winning argument but he’s not convinced. “But it doesn’t taste the same… Shinsou, I’ve been deprived of local ketchup for my Omurice and you’re going to force me to eat the western one when I’m finally back home?”

He frowns as he, through incomprehensible grumbling, puts both of them into the basket on your lap and goes behind you to push you again. You let out a laugh, “that was a rough decision, wasn’t it?”

“It hurt,” he mumbles before walking over to the dairy section. His phone starts ringing and he lets you push yourself the rest of the way so you can pick out eggs and milk while he answers.

Words apparently travels fast about your (more permanent) arrival and this’s the first in a line of calls directed towards you. He comes up to you and hands you the phone. When you send him a questionable look, he simply shrugs and looks at the milk.

“Hi?”

Your name is screeched in the other end and you have to hold back your own squeal in this very public place, “Momo!”

Shinsou snickers into the supermarket fridge, picking up two liters of milk and gently placing them in the basket you’re still carrying as you talk vividly. He overhears you plan a meet-up and warmth spreads through his insides at the prospect of you being a part of his and his friend’s lives again.

While he stayed in contact with most of his classmates, he still withdrew a bit upon you leaving. He also suspects some of them weren’t sure how to comfort him while they, themselves, went through losing a close friend. Admittedly, he distanced himself quite a bit – they reminded him of you, and that simply hurt too much back then.

He doesn’t miss the warm smile adorning your lips the rest of the trip and all the way home, happy at the thought of reuniting with more of your friends.

                      Shinsou stands next to the couch with the remote control in hand, “I’m just letting you know in advance and also giving you full advocacy to say no, by the way! But the first Tuesday of every month uh, my family comes by for a potluck-like dinner, and it’s… next week.”

Shinsou’s expression is unreadable – he’s sporting a twist between a lopsided smile, raised eyebrows and a scrunched-up nose and you’re unsure of what emotion it’s supposed to convey. The reason he looks so… unreadable, is because he isn’t sure how you’ll take the news – he half-expects you to protest or find a way to avoid it (which he definitely understands) – he honestly expects every kind of reaction except for the one you give him. You’re suddenly up in his space, arms tight around his neck as your nose is buried in his collar, exhaling a breathy “oh my God, congratulations!”

You’re practically shaking from excitement and it’s at that moment Shinsou realizes that you never even knew he’d been adopted. His heart aches in ways he’s almost getting used to since you came back, a wave of warm water once again melting more of the ice cage his heart is wrapped around. He wraps his arms slowly around your waist, barely touching you. Unsure how else to react, he lets out a wheezy “t-thank you.”

He's not entirely sure why tears are lining up to spill from his eyelids, why a sob is threatening to leave him like it did back when you first took him in for who he was, but there’s something about experiencing your explicit happiness for him and hearing you congratulate him as if it was yesterday that stirred something in him – something he realized he was missing back when he’d first told Kaminari. It’s the way he had wanted you to be the first but you weren’t there. Something in him cracks and the arms that’s wrapped around your waist tightens further, bringing you in so much closer, close enough that your heartbeats merge – or so it feels. You both exhale shaky breaths and tiny puffs of laughter but reluctant to let go. It isn’t until he remembers that you’re technically on one leg with the other one broken that he abruptly releases you and guides you back down on the couch, “sorry for keeping you standing.”

While he’s bent down you raise a hand to wipe a tear from his cheek, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” and he shakes his head and lets a hand rest on his chest, close to his heart, “you were, inside.”

You share a moment of warm smiles, your hand still resting on his cheek before your eyes widen and you slap the hand back to your own mouth in surprise, “fuck, I’m so sorry!” you yell out to his face – like you forgot how close he is – before you let a hand run through his hair, his shiver reminding you that he’s still not used to the physical closeness you’re bringing him, “I’ve been calling you Shinsou! Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about that! Jesus shit!”

Shinsou looks at you almost comically, the confused stare he’s sending back reminding you of that one calculating meme, his brows high on his forehead. “Oh!” he then exclaims, chuckling before raising himself back up again, stretching his arms – it reveals a sliver of his stomach to you and it feels like steam is rising from your ears with the way your temperature rises for a second.

“I’m still Shinsou Hitoshi,” he says just as he gets his back to crack, letting out a satisfied groan, “since I was adopted in like, the end of the second year and I was almost 18, we decided it’d be a hassle to change the name – I’d have to explain it to all the connections I’ve gotten through the internships and work studies, so they asked me what I wanted.” He sits down on the couch next to you, “I didn’t mind the name, that wouldn’t take away from the fact that I’d gotten a family, so I kept it.”

You’re beaming in the chair, your hands restless from the excitement, “what are they like!?” Shinsou chuckles at your eagerness, “it’s Shouta and Hizashi, and they’ve taken such good care of me. After I graduated U.A I moved in with them for a few years, to get my career started properly.”

The warmth he uses to talk about them with fills you with love and affection and you’re so excited to meet them once the weekend’s ended. You’re going to meet up with Yaoyorozu and Jirou Saturday, so it does give you two free days to rest your body in-between. You’re glad Shinsou’s patient and accepting regarding your need for rest, seemingly understanding of how exhausting chronic pains can be in the day-to-day life.

               “Why was it always so complicated between you two?” Jirou asks this as she takes a bite of her cake. You shrug your shoulders and lean over with your fork to her plate, silently asking for permission to taste the chocolate cake there. She nods and pushes the plate slightly closer to you. “I mean we were teenagers. Everything was complicated,” you reply as you take the piece of cake in your mouth, letting a pleased hum leave you as you get a taste. Yaoyorozu and Jirou both agree, “you’re adults now though, doesn’t make it… easier?” Yaoyorozu asks carefully and you lean your head to the left as you think about it, “I think… I think things ended so messy and complicated back then that it’s turned into this… giant knot – and untangling it takes priority. I don’t think we can just start over, with all that history.”

You’re at Yaoyorozu’s place, sitting out on her balcony, enjoying high tea – she’s been very excited and ordered home several different cakes. Jirou’s moved in with her, though to Yaoyorozu’s family, she’s still simply a friend. They told you they’re still working out how to tell them they’re engaged.

They both nod solemnly at your reply but Jirou breaks it with a sly smile, “you’re still in love with him, right?”

You feel heat return to your face as your eyes squeeze shut, almost feeling like a high school student again with all the embarrassment. Yaoyorozu giggles at you, “honestly, I think it’s very romantic. The way you’re reunited after 10 years… it’s like you were meant to be!” her hand has traveled to her cheek, looking dreamy, “it’s right out of one of your favorite romances, huh?” Jirou smiles warmly at her fiancée and you feel something positive bloom in your chest as well.

“I don’t think he’s into me, though,” you confess and they both gasp dramatically at you, “there’s no way he’s not! He’s most certainly been into you since high school,” Yaoyorozu insists with a decided look on her face, taking another sip of tea.

“He wasn’t back then, remember? Back when you made me ask,” you huff, picking at your piece of carrot cake with your fork, it did hurt to be this close with him again – if you thought you were in love with him back then? It’s tenfold now that he’s back in your life as an adult – the way he’s become so grown, so mature and so devastatingly handsome, driving you absolutely crazy.

“Honestly, I think he might’ve just been too immature! He had a lot going on too, right?”

“Yeah, but even when I said that I’d been in love with Bakugou, he didn’t react!” you try, puffing up your cheeks. “I still don’t completely understand why you said that” Jirou admits, reaching onto Yaoyorozu’s plate to taste the strawberry tart placed there.

“You were the ones who told me to say that, though!” you protest, reaching for the teacup you’re convinced is worth more than your entire life.

“But we didn’t intend for you to say it like that,” Yaoyorozu argues, “it was meant to be a fail-safe, to check for his reaction if he’d said yes. Based on his emotional reaction, you would’ve been able to read if you were the one that he was interested in. I do admit, it was an entirely immature procedure we came up with back then.”

You groan and lean back on the wheelchair, “it’s ridiculous. It’s been 10 years but I’m still blushing like a Victorian teenager at the thought of kissing him.”

They both laugh at you and Yaoyorozu reaches out for Jirou’s hands, “we’ve been together for 11 years and it still feels like that, sometimes.”

You smile brightly at them, your mood lifted just from observing them and their love. You shift the subject away from your horrible teenage crush on your best friend and tell them about your condition. Yaoyorozu gets teary-eyed and Jirou tells you that her uncle suffers from arthritis too and she’s seen what it can do to people – it’s nice, you think.

You haven’t talked much about your conditions with other people in recent years, mostly because you’d been met with all the negative reactions, “but you’re so young!”, “you shouldn’t take so many pills, it’s unhealthy for such a young person!” and the crown of them all, “are you sure you can’t just push through it?”

But you should’ve known better, you think. You should’ve known that your friends would’ve always been there and supported you. You cringe inwardly at the guilt and regret but decide that the whole reason you came back was to face it head-on – that includes putting the past behind you and moving on from your former isolating decisions. Happiness blooms in your chest at being surrounded by such good people after just a few weeks of being back.

                      “Anyways… thank you so much for today. I think it’s helped me clear things up a bit,” you lean up from the wheelchair to hug them both and when they squeeze you tightly between them, you can’t stop the smile that shines your lips. “Safe trip home!” they say as the driver’s helps you into the car – you’re not entirely surprised that Yaoyorozu prepared for a driver to bring you back and forth, but it still feels extremely exclusive.

“Again, thanks! And I’ll meet his family on Tuesday, so that’ll probably make us closer as well, right?” you smile and wave and the confused faces of your friends goes right by you, as the driver closes the door after you. “Meet…?” Yaoyorozu asks and sends Jirou a questioning look. Before they can ask you to elaborate however, you’re already gone, leaving the entrance of Yaoyorozu’s family estate.

             You’ve gotten better at maneuvering the wheelchair yourself, so when you hear the knock on his front door, you’re pushing yourself to the living room from the kitchen. You’d been keeping an eye on the boiling water as Shinsou had been setting the table. You’re feeling both excited but also incredibly nervous about meeting the people who’d taken Shinsou in and shown him the love he’d always deserved. He hadn’t gone into much detail about them as people and you kind of assumed that he just wanted you to meet them without prejudice, so you’d decided not to pry.

You’re nervous for two reasons.

One, meeting parents are always a daunting experience. You’re not entirely sure how much he’s told them about you – specifically how you left him for a whole decade only to come back and live in his apartment. So, needless to say, you’re unsure of what to expect.

Two, what if they don’t like you? What if you don’t like them? You’re very much in love with their son and have been gathering the courage to admit it to yourself and confess – at least, just to get it out of your system, you argue to yourself.

As you hear them greet each other your back straightens and you think to yourself that you faintly seem to recognize their voices but since you can’t place them immediately, you shrug it away. You put on a polite smile as they enter the living room, determined to be the absolute dream for potential parent-in-laws in case you live in a reality where Shinsou reciprocates your feelings.

There’s really no way to describe the way your jaw drops as the three of them enter the living room. Shinsou smiles at you like this isn’t some earth-shattering revelation.

His parents are giving you the biggest smiles and you’re completely entranced until the blond one speaks, “it’s been a while, young listener!” bending down to give you a hug. He’s clearly excited to see you again, celebrating some sort of reunion. Behind him, your old homeroom teacher is standing with a warm smile and a pot in his hands. Present Mic – are you even allowed to call him Hizashi like Shinsou did? – laughs at your dumbstruck expression and pats your shoulder as he welcomes you back.

When Aizawa nears you, you shrink in on yourself and he chuckles at you, “I’m not your teacher anymore,” he says as he leans in for a hug. You laugh awkwardly and hug him back as your brain processes… this interesting situation. Your former teachers… are Shinsou’s parents… it’s not that you don’t believe them to be good parents, it’s just so absurd that you can’t wrap your head around it – and why the hell did Shinsou not tell you this part? Did he honestly just assume that you were on a first-name basis with your old high school teachers?

You laugh out loud and remove a strand of hair from your forehead, “I’m sorry I’m so… flabbergasted? Shinsou didn’t tell me who his parents were,” you send him a stern look and as soon as you spot the mischievous grin he’s carrying, almost Cheshire-like and entirely Aizawa-like, you groan and hide your face in your hands, “you did this on purpose, didn’t you?” and they all laugh out loud, “Hitoshi’s become quite fond of Shouta’s way of fooling people. It’s not uncommon for either of them to do stuff like this,” Yamada tells you with a supportive hand on your shoulder and you groan again, shaking your head at him. “You’ll pay for this,” you tell him with a pointed finger, and he nods challenging at you. Yamada leans down, “don’t worry, I fall for them too, all the time.”

Aizawa spots Candle on the couch and walks to her, bending down. As soon as he nears her though, her fur stands up on her back and she hurries away, into the bedroom. He looks dejected, his arm falling to his sides, “give it up, Shouta dear, she’s not a fan of you and never will be,” Yamada laughs. You giggle and Shinsou sends his dad a playful look, “you know, Candle loves them,” he points to you and Aizawa whips his head so fast towards you, looking pointedly dejected, “what’s your secret?” he asks and you shrug your shoulders, “I guess we’re just meant to be.”

           You’re sitting around the dinner table, talking animatedly as you eat the food – there’s a variety of different dishes, lots of vegetables and different meats. There’s both some roasted chicken, mackerel, tempura shrimps and fried pork, making it a real feast. Your heart squeezes in on itself, experiencing the family warmth that’s surrounding the table, pure joy emanating from the apartment at this moment in time.

“Eri was so jealous when she heard you’d be here as well,” Yamada tells you with a glint in his eyes. She had an exam coming up and had to stay home and study – you still can’t believe that gentle little girl’s already in high school. “Oh! I didn’t think she’d remember me,” you admit – you didn’t interact with her much back then, and you’re sure she’d been overwhelmed either way.

“She remembers you clearly – probably based on all of Hitoshi’s talking and pictures of you,” Aizawa says flatly and you hear the unmistaken sound of kicking underneath the table, though no one reacts above it. You chuckle at the admission, your heart soaring at the thought of Shinsou talking so much about you that she knows who you are still.

“I didn’t talk that much,” Shinsou says, purposely sounding as flat as Aizawa as to not give his embarrassment away, though no one at the table misses the slight wobble to the pitch.

“Your little crush in high school was so cute, though,” Yamada says with a teasing tone and another kick, harder this time, is heard again. You chuckle and look at Shinsou, “you had a crush on me?”

He chokes on a piece of pork and you hurry to hand him his waterglass. Aizawa chuckles and puts a hand on Yamada’s, a silent way to tell him to reign it back and says, “we thought you were dating back then for sure, but I think we just saw ourselves in that relationship,” he looks at Yamada with love shining in his eyes and you’re seconds away from cooing at them, a lovesick sigh leaving you.

“Well, I had a giant crush on Shins- on Hitoshi, too back then,” you try to laugh it off with a scratch to your neck. It sounds like Shinsou’s crush was in past tense, so you see it as a way to get the whole confession thing out of the way, without making it awkward later between you.

“Oh?” Yamada sounds interested and Shinsou gets more food stuck in his throat, choking once again. You fill his waterglass again and hands it to him, patting his back – it’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name – inspired by his family doing so – so you’re convinced he’s reacting to that. “Be careful when you eat,” you try and he nods, pointedly looking away from you. Should you have continued to call him Shinsou?

He clears his throat, “how is Eri doing in school?” they all recognize it as a way to get away from the subject and accept it, as Aizawa starts telling about her well-being.

“It is lucky her parents are both teachers though!” you exclaim and they nod, “she struggled a bit in the beginning of high school – organizing her study time and priorities have really helped though,” Aizawa contemplates as he puts down his utensils.

She’s in a regular high school, still struggling with controlling her quirk when she’s particularly stressed – though it has been more than three years since she last had a slip-up. The conversations gradually switch to the couch with coffee and a cake that Aizawa and Yamada brought, talking about your conditions.

“I have nerve pain as well,” Aizawa explains, “haven’t been formally diagnosed but Recovery Girl has been telling me about fibromyalgia. Have you tried getting on Pregabalin?” he asks as he puts down his coffee cup, “the anxiety medicine?” you ask for clarification and he nods, “and epileptic medicine, too actually. It’s shown to have a palliate effect on nerve-related pains if you take it every day. It worked wonders on me but gave me incredible dry mouth,” you can’t help but snort as he continues, “and I wasn’t about to have more dry-conditions on my face.”

Shinsou offers to write down the name for you as he reaches for the little notebook next to the coffee table. You hear Aizawa mutter something to Yamada, “oh yeah, I have to take that,” he laughs sheepishly and Aizawa gets up before him, muttering out an “I got it” with a hand to Yamada’s shoulder, going for his bag from the dresser out on the entrance.

As he sits back down, Shinsou hands Yamada his waterglass and Aizawa hands him two pills, “I’m sorry I had to interrupt like that, it’s just after I’ve changed prosthetics, my pain levels are on the rise as I get used to them.” Your eyes widen like saucers before you can school your expression, “I did hear you got severely injured three years ago but prosthetics?” you ask and he lifts up his leg and tugs on the pantleg, “I lost both my legs from the knee down. It was kept out of the media though,” he says as you try not to stare too hard at his prosthetics.

“You’re walking so smoothly on them though, I didn’t even see any hint of it!” you exclaim and he laughs, “yeah, I’ve put a lot of energy into rehabilitation, nothing can stop me from being a hero,” he says proudly and you nod in amazement as he tells you of how it happened and how he’s gotten this far.

              You’re on the couch, heaving out a sigh as Shinsou massages your calf on the left leg for you. “I forgot how amazing those two are,” you let out and Shinsou smiles, “they’re preserving that’s for sure,” he agrees as he follows Candle with his eyes. She’s scouting her territory, making sure that her nemesis, the human Aizawa Shouta, has left the premises. She’s getting ready to jump up on your wheelchair and get comfortable, once she determines that he’s gone.

“Oh wait, that’s how you knew your place was entirely wheelchair friendly!” you exclaim and he laughs, “bingo. Dad lived here for a while because their house definitely isn’t wheelchair friendly, being in three stories.”

You sit in silence for a while as you feel exhaustion settle in you – but also insecurity.

“I feel so… lazy, next to them,” you admit and Shinsou whips his head at you, “you’re not.”

You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, “but they have… similar and maybe even worse conditions and look at them, they’re still Pro Heroes…”

Shinsou leans further up towards you, “hey, look at me.”

As you look at him, he gives you a determined look, “you should never compare yourself to others. Your struggles are entirely different and the path you’re meant to walk is different – and that’s okay.”

You sniffle, “okay… thank you, Hitoshi.”

He tenses, pauses for a moment and then clears his throat, “of course. I’ll always be here, and hey,” he grabs your hand, “you’re a lot stronger than you think.” He finishes off with a reassuring squeeze to your hand, and you give him a warm smile.       

  Shinsou’s lying on the couch, the apartment dark and quiet. It’s been a few hours since you went to bed and his mind has been too preoccupied to fall asleep. Really, how is he expected to, given your casual confession over the dinner table? You’d said it so casually then, like a passing thought – while you’d used the word “giant” about the crush. It didn’t add up, he thought, as he once again turned to lie on the other side – he’s also coming to terms with the thought that maybe you did have a crush on him back then – and not Bakugou. Usually, when he can’t sleep due to racing thoughts, Candle would help distract him as he practiced mindfulness on petting her. But the traitor is currently in his bed, next to you, probably purring to the ends of Hell and back.

Shinsou’s painfully in love with you. He thinks he’s been in love with you since you sat down by his lunch table for the first time, millimeters away from touching his hands but restraining yourself to respect a stranger’s sphere as you complimented his nail polish – though it took several months more before he became aware of his own feelings towards you.

But they’d never left him, even as he and Kaminari were going out. They’d both agreed that if you or Sero ever turned out to be interested, they’d leave each other in a heartbeat, because those were who they both were truly interested in, agreeing that their relationship was based on comfort and security – though Shinsou knows now that the love he has for Kaminari is another truth as well.

His heart is beating out of his chest and his smartwatch has on several occasions offered breathing exercises in case the elevated heartrate is based on a panic attack. Just as he’s about to angrily kick the weighted blanket off of him to get a glass of milk, he hears a few thuds and a yelp from his bedroom.

He rushes to check if you’re alright, turning on the lights on the way and finds you sprawled out on his floor, Candle looking curiously at you from the edge of the bed.

“What happened?” and you laugh, you have the audacity to laugh, from your position on the floor while Shinsou’s looking panicked above you, “I thought I could reach my phone charger without having to get up,” you sheepishly admit and point towards the charger connected to the outlet by the dresser – a distance no one could reach from the bed.

He goes over to help you up with a groan, grabbing the charger on the way to you. “What are you doing awake right now anyways?” he asks as he lets go of your arm now that you’re settled on the bed, you chuckle, “what are you doing awake right now?”

“Who says I wasn’t sleeping but got woken up from your fall?”

“Please, your reaction was way too quick for someone asleep, even for Pro Hero standards,” you say with a glint and he pouts, sitting down next to you, “couldn’t sleep.”

You let an arm slide over his back in a soothing pattern before shuffling around to show that you want to lie down. Shinsou’s about to leave the room and let you sleep when you grab his arm and tuts at him for trying to leave, “wanna cuddle?” and he’s embarrassed by how eager he suddenly seems to be to join you.

You settle into the bed comfortably, Shinsou hoping you won’t notice how fast his heart is beating as your back is glued to his chest with how close you’re cuddling. He has to actively fight the urge to put his leg over you, he realizes and inwardly groan at himself. A content sigh leaves you when you’re done settling and there’re a few minutes of silence until you clear your throat and look behind you to get eye contact, though it proves harder than you thought, given your positions, “was it really true that you had a crush on me in high school?”

Shinsou sucks in a breath but keeps looking at you, his hand tightening around your waist, “no,” he decides and you sigh. You’re about to turn back around when he opens his mouth again, the volume way too loud for the non-existent distance between you right now, “I didn’t have a crush… because I was… or rather, I am, in fact, in love with you.”

Shinsou’s heart is breaking his ribcage right now with how hard it’s beating, he’s sure of it. You’re currently frozen in place, staring up at the ceiling, not moving a muscle. He’s about to apologize when you open your mouth, a sound resembling a squawk leaving you before you wet your lips and try again, “you’re in love with me? Like, right now?”

Shinsou can’t help but let out a pained wheeze at your reaction, trying to pull away from you. You roughly grab onto his arm to stop him from rolling away, “no no no mister, don’t weasel your way out of this. You’re in love with me?”

He hides his face in your nape, sucking in a breath, “stop teasing me, oh my God,” and you chuckle, almost sounding panicked and definitely sounding strained, “I’m not making fun of you, I swear. I just, I’m processing.”

He wants to ask what the hell there is to process before you laugh again, moving slightly in his grip, “you have no idea how much I want to kiss your stupid face right now but…” you wiggle a bit to showcase your predicament, “I cannot move, both due to this stupid fucking leg and becau-“

You’re interrupted by Shinsou leaning in over and above you, his soft lips on yours – you let out a grunt in surprise and groan into the kiss as he pulls away, breathless. He looks absolutely smitten with you until worry graces his features, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks hurriedly, suddenly fearing you might just’ve disliked kissing him as he looks back at your broken leg without seeing anything amiss, supporting himself with a hand on your thigh.

“I ruined our first kiss,” you whine as you’re finally able to lie on your back instead of on your side. He hides his face in the crook of your neck and you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine when he breathes in your scent so openly, “oh my God I ruined our first kiss,” you say again as realization hits you, “I’ve been fantasizing about that stupid kiss since I was like, a child, and I ruined it by oinking like a Goddamn pig!”

Shinsou’s shaking above you, hand clenching and unclenching back on your waist and it takes you a second to realize that he’s holding back from laughing – though he’s definitely doing a shit job at it, gently leaving pecks on your neck and shoulder with a big smile you’re sure is both very handsome and very rude, “want to redo it?”

You whine again, “you still want to kiss me? After I oinked into your lips?” you ask in utter disbelief, your eyebrows almost touching your hairline with how high up you’re sporting them. He laughs again, this time out loud as he lifts his head to look at you.

You’re caught off-guard by the absolute lovestruck expression he’s wearing as he’s looking down at you, the smile down-right goofy, successfully shutting you up.

“Uh,” you let out and he leans in for another kiss. You stop him with a hand to his lips, “if we’re redoing the kiss anyway, I want some lip palm. I don’t want you to think my lips are dry. Do you have a chapstick somewhere?”

You’re about to try and slip free from his grip to get up from the bed but this time it’s Shinsou who’s whining, a pretty and choked out “please” leaving his lips and you freeze on the spot.

When you turn your head to look back at him, he uses every ounce of strength and speed he’s acquired through Pro Hero work to successfully slot his lips against yours, and you instantly relax in his hold, your arms winding around his neck. He pulls away – but only millimeters – and when your eyes drowsily open to look at him, you’re surprised to find that his are still closed before he leans back in for another, whimpering into your mouth when you connect.

The warmth from him bleeds into you through the places where you’re connected and it nearly swallows you whole – kissing him was like drowning and flying all at once, you catch yourself thinking before pushing into him with more force, desperate to get used to the feeling of having him like this.

You pull away for air and this time his eyes are open – though barely – and he’s looking back at you with unadulterated adoration, “I think we need to buy canned coffee tomorrow.”

You giggle as your hand travels from his neck, through his hair and to his cheek, where your thumb traces a few gentle circles, “yeah? We need to celebrate?” and he leans in for another kiss, this one quicker, before giving you a lopsided smile and rests his head on your chest, “definitely.”

i just want to take a quick second to thank you again for reading this, i hope it either resonated with you or gave you new insights <3333 this story means A LOT to me and it really means a lot that you took the time to read all 32k words! have a lovely day <333

[ssr-archives]

Scene I: Considering this was the sneak peek, I’m sure there’s already been loads of discussion about it, but I’ve got a tad bit to add. If I’m not mistaken the reason people often believe Daniel wasn’t suited for Peggy is because “he’s too nice blah blah such a cliche Peggy needs someone bolder.” Okay but can we just focus on the fact that Daniel literally doesn’t take Peggy’s shit!? I mean she calls him out on looking terrible and he points out the fact that she’s got a hole in her abdomen. Yes, he’s adorable and sweet and a damn cinnamon roll but he’s not the man who’ll swallow up everything she throws at him just because he loves her. If she’s wrong, he’ll say it – only he does it with respect which is what’s most important. 

Scene II: #TeamTakedown. I have nothing deep to add to this scene other than the fact that they look so damn good standing next to each other. I mean c’mon. “You happy?” “Very”. #Married. Take such dialogue into consideration when I discuss their tones with one another in scene III.

Scene III: STAKEOUT. I would like to thank not only God, but Jesus and all the TV writers for using such a glorious trope. I do not know how to words for this scene so please bear with me as I make an attempt.

There’s something really fantastic about both Enver Gjokaj and Hayley Atwell’s body language when their characters are together. They’re clearly comfortable around each other, and because of this, moments that require a type of casual intimacy look and feel effortless.

gif credit |x|. 

You know what’s interesting about this scene? Daniel’s tone. Peggy should’ve stayed home. She’s clearly hurting. The way dialogue is written for these two is absolutely fantastic because the banter + their obvious chemistry makes them sound like a damn married couple. And it’s not even my shipper trash heart talking. There’s the casual “I’m fine” ie: denial of the pain followed by the no you’re not (come here with the hand). Which then turns into a serious conversation bodies but it’s in such an intimate tone as if they can talk about anything. 

“Agent Carter is a series that emphasizes the importance of a woman’s agency, but it’s also a series that beautifully showcases the fact that a strong, fierce woman isn’t weakened when she opens her heart to love. In fact, love is a vast part of Peggy’s story — much like saving the world, romance is included in her happy ending. And by the way the series presents such storylines, not only are we able to forget that it plays with the god-awful “love triangle” trope, but hopefully, viewers get the sense that women aren’t weakened when they give in to their heart’s desires. Agent Carter debunks the conception that love is weakness by evolving a romance through a solid partnership. As Jarvis states, there’s always been something between Daniel and Peggy — a profound, kindred connection. War never really ends for those who’ve lived through it, but despite their visibility, scars don’t ache forever. One day you find yourself standing side by side with someone who’s willing to share your burdens, someone who understands pain and suffering, but beyond that, someone who’s ceaselessly looked deep within your soul in order to assure you that you’re treasured. Daniel Sousa’s done this time and time again — he has put Peggy first because he’s seen irreplaceable heart in her. Agent Carter does an excellent job of treating its women, but it also does a superlative job of brilliantly revolutionizing the true meaning of feminism — equality. This isn’t a series that praises women while slamming men. Respect should be given where it’s due regardless of gender or skin color. And thereby, it was lovely to see Peggy openly declare no one can do better than Daniel because it discredits agent Krezminski’s ridiculous comment about how “no woman would trade in the red, white, and blue for an aluminum crutch.” Daniel isn’t defined by his disability or his status in S.S.R., and Peggy’s always seen the man within. And declaring this out loud essentially allows him to see that he is of great importance to her. She sees what matters in him. This moment could’ve gone in a few different ways, but it continues to amaze me that writers have found incomparable ways of making the relationship so incredibly healthy and organic. Daniel wasn’t going to talk about the broken engagement if Peggy hadn’t mentioned Violet — he wasn’t going to take his newfound freedom to immediately take her up on drinks. And Peggy wasn’t going to get happy because he’s now single. It’s fitting that she’d get angry. It’s fitting that she’d immediately try to fix the situation. And when it comes to communication these two cannot be more awkward, but a heated moment was precisely what they needed in order to work through their feelings. But let’s not waste anymore time because the cinematic brilliance that follows the breathtaking declaration a lot of us have been waiting for is waiting.” full review |x|

gif credit: @sheriffchiselchin 

LET’S TALK (OR SCREAM) ABOUT THE CINEMATOGRAPHY. Notice how it’s black around them except their hands + clothes? And no it’s not the gif’s coloring because they’re all like this. The camera distinctly wants us to focus on their hands (which we would’ve done anyway because of the directing, but the lighting wants us to really focus on the hands). This isn’t casual. It wants to see the clear difference between this kind of togetherness and Jarvis + Peggy’s in the end where it’s clearly friendship.

“The expanse of sentiments humans are able to convey without words is perhaps one of the most enthralling facts about us. And in “Life of the Party” the cinematography gorgeously revealed the magic that’s found in a touch — the effort to not only comfort but to express something more profound simply by joining hands. Thereafter, because it’s easier to feel adoration than it is to speak it, Enver Gjokaj and Hayley Atwell communicate volumes through their expressions. As though Daniel and Peggy are physically and emotionally realizing just how much really lies between them. And it is that exact realization which gracefully leads in to an almost kiss — cue Daniel Pamberton’s “The Unfinished Kiss” from The Man from U.N.C.L.E. This is such a crucial moment in their development because it comes at a time where it’s not only entirely unexpected but they’re both a little lost in the tenderness of the other’s physical touch and yearning expressions. What’s so interesting about Daniel and Peggy is that while it’s always been clear there’s been something between them, the seemingly effortless progression into a solid partnership is playing a vital role in drawing them towards one another. It’s easy to be together. It’s easy for Peggy to let her walls down with him. It’s easy to be honest. It’s easy to give in to the magnetic pull that’s taken ahold of both their hearts.” full review |x|

Peggy’s choice to place her hand on his was her way of genuinely apologizing. Yes, she has feelings for him, but she’d never overstep her boundaries just as he wouldn’t overstep his. But this moment, the one little move she made takes us back to how comfortable they are around one another. And here’s the thing, the thing that I love so deeply about my ships. Sometimes people are just drawn to each other. And when chemistry is that strong, you don’t think too hard. Your bodies do the talking for you. Your bodies and expressions say 1,540,940,201 words to each other. That’s what’s happening in these moment. Neither of these idiots understand what’s going on between them, but it’s strong, it always has been. The combination of respect and kindness has in time strengthened their bond beautifully.

but again: CINEMATOGRAPHY. It wants us to focus on their hands. And in this scene especially, it’s again effortless. Daniel’s not thinking about this, it just happens, but what we’re meant to see is the tenderness between them. These tiny moments of intimacy that show us these two are incredibly comfortable around one another. He is of higher rank than her and the fact that he treats himself as her equal floors me. He doesn’t want to take the fall for her because he thinks she can’t handle but because he’s just responsible in this. They’re in the same position in his mind and he rather get the blame. Also, kudos to Peggy for saying she’s got Jack covered. She doesn’t refuse help when she needs it, but when she doesn’t, she’s willing to speak up. And the fact that there’s so much honesty between these idiots is perfect.

Scene V: “We should talk … about things.” And now we wait until the talk, but OMG these two. I just. They’re so ridiculously good together when it comes to work and everything else. They’re both so boldly confident but then when feelings are involved it’s like uhhhh hi hehehe. So basically they are us. Except instead of the fkjafldksjfaklsdjfdslkf they’re lost adorable little puppies. 

Scene VI: phone call #2. Peggy’s expression when Vernon picked up the phone broke me. And I cannot wait until these two reunite next week because I have no words for how distraught I am.

And that’s all for now because seriously if you made it all the way down here kudos. I am beat. But these two are worth that exhaustion. 

Afternoon Tea and PeggySous 2x06 + 2x07

Hello precious coconut cream puffs! I had considered doing this in two parts, but I figured we should just combine them thereby, it’ll bit a tiny bit longer than usual so I hope that’s alright.

If you’d like more of a full episode review we’ve got you covered over at MGcircles. Also be sure to check out the brilliance over at Nerdy Girl Notes and Geekly Inc for their Agent Carter reviews.

Keep reading

[lordymaru]

I'm about to refute this entire essay with the simple explanation being:

The only interaction we've seen of these two is when she's a freaking 8 year old. Your self insert shows no boundaries.

And this is probably the last time I'll make a post about the stupidity behind the way the pair is viewed:

Note: I know there's people out there with a brain who ship these two in a more conventional way. In the end you do you, ship whatever you want, no one can prevent you from doing that, just don't be gross about it.

One of the parts being the Significance of their first encounter:

She’s a poor peasant girl who’s suffered immense trauma, suffering, and loneliness. Her initiative to help Sesshomaru came from her generosity

Exactly, she's alone for her family had been killed before her eyes, the villagers treat her like garbage. When she meets Sess he's wounded and simply in a bad state, both mentally and physically. Both of them are, the difference being he's a demon, a powerful one and for him to have ended in such a bad shape only stabbed at his pride- Rin on the other hand is a child, a human tiny child who is vulnerable and to him she poses no threat. Both of them are weak then.

At this point, it’s observable that despite knowing her story, her scars, and her difficulties, humans do not even empathize, let alone sympathize with Rin. It is the feudal era, after all. She’s a young, disabled orphan and the villagers only see her for what she lacks: a voice, a family, and a place of belonging.

Again with your feudal era shit. I can assure you the world is just as ugly today as it was before you and I existed. Next.

When he asks about her bruises, this is the first time anyone had ever afforded her a second glance.

This was a huge step forward for Sess, a huuuuuuge one for he showed interest in another living creature, not just any creature but a human. And for her it was probably like Christmas, for no one had showed her any mercy or interest. Ok you get a point. But oh, boy, how I'm about to spit on the next one:

The audience can see Sesshomaru calculate her body language, recognizing that she is mute. Instead of pressing her further or ignoring her outright, he attempts to comfort her (in his own way), making her feel that it is okay if she chooses not to answer him; that her desire to reply to him should only be a desire, not an obligation. I think, on one hand, that was the first moment of something that would resemble compassion that Sesshomaru had ever administered, trying to put himself in her shoes — if someone had asked him to do something that required, for example, his left arm, he probably would have appreciated them saying “you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to” so to provide him agency for something that he actually cannot do. And the same goes for Rin. He recognizes her disability, maybe even resonates with it and decides to empower her with a choice. Choice is important when it comes to the Sesshomaru/Rin dynamic and it’s a word that will come up often. 

Ok why are you comparing the loss of his arm to her not being able to talk? Not all disabilities are the same, you moron. Or am I dumb for thinking this way? If so, feel free to call me out on my lack of common sense kr whatever you wanna call it. Sess physically couldn't do shit with his left arm because well- it was gone! That's a physical disability. Rin had "lost" her voice after what she witnessed and so she wouldn't speak anymore. Have you heard of Psychogenic Dysphonia? If not, you can click here and give it a reading or do your own research. The more you know: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0892199703000158

So you say he "empowers her with a choice" that is "important when it comes to the Sesshomaru/Rin dynamic" let me get this straight, a choice because why? She's a child? A female? Because you said so yourself, it's the Feudal Era after all and therefore women had no choice in life, no voice, no agency, no nothing. So he was being magnanimous then? You know... This is where you start edging into the gr00ming territory. Can't you see? No? Alright, moving on.

BRUH WHAT THE FUCK?! Are you fucking good? See how you self insert? Bye. Next

The next time Sesshomaru sees Rin, it is suggested that he actively sought her, whether it be by curiosity or concern for well-being

He did... It is not suggested, he actually did asdfhkl. For both curiosity and he probably was worried. He also states he wants to test out his sword, what a perfect chance to do so for Rin is pretty much dead and that's the only way to make his sword work. So she was both being a guinea pig and an itch he wasn't quite sure how to scratch. Next.

Silence Rin.

Rin screams endlessly, annoying Sesshomaru. Firstly, this is the first time we hear him call her by her name. Secondly, Sesshomaru is visibly annoyed by her noises, however, he does not tell her to “shut up” as he normally would with Jaken or even InuYasha. He simply says “enough of that Rin, stop it.” (In Japanese he says, “Silence, Rin. You make too much noise.”) Even analyzing the Japanese dialogue, it is evidently softer than Sesshomaru’s usual ‘kisama’ (貴樣) manner of speech that we see depicted usually. This is the first time he’s had a companion who is not a demon, someone with compassion, and who has had his general best interests at heart with no expectations in return. His softer tone is a logical deduction to make.

Ok... "someone with compassion, and who has had his general best interests at heart with no expectations in return." Bruh... As if he would even consider meeting someone's expectations. Are you sure you're talking about Sess? Another thing is, he always speaks in a calm tone, he rarely yells or loses his composure- he had no reason to be rude to her either, you're excusing his regular behavior simply because she ain't Jaken. Anything else?

Rin doesn't change Sesshomaru overnight, it's a gradual and long process

Well duh!!! Just like you don't lose the pounds you gained from eating in one sit 12 donuts a week ago. Stating the obvious and for what? What's exactly your mf point?

The silence part is important, idk how to tell you there is a power imbalance in their relationship from the moment he tells her to be quiet. He didn't say please, he didn't ask her to, he told her to be quiet. Like a parent would, if I could count the times my mom told me to shush.... That's your first indicator he is not her friend, he is not her equal.

Letting you Be Yourself: The Panther Demon Arc

the first frame the audience sees in the anime sets the scene, painting the Sessshomaru entourage in a serene manner, indicating a level of comfort between group members (episode 75). This is vastly different from our last depiction of Sesshomaru and Rin’s relationship. In episode 44, he was unable to withstand her (albeit annoying) childish antics. But here, it’s observable that Sesshomaru can accept her and her package of unconventional fun. Not only does he tolerate and even more so, accept Rin, but he accepts her influence on his vassal, Jaken and allows them to be free around him.

Is called developing patience. I can assure you that when you're a parent or an older bro/sis and your kid/younger sibling is noisy af you either learn to tolerate that or get used to it for kids are kids abd you have to let them be kids. Next.

She's a child, she's not stupid.

The Abducted Rin: Calling her Name

The respect that Sesshomaru shows Rin is insurmountable. However, the InuYasha franchise is clever to portray the subtlety of Sesshomaru’s respect for her. KV on Twitter points out how highly he regards his companion and never relegates her to anything less than the value that she as a person embodies (@KVndie via Twitter). He consistently humanizes her. 

He only sees how important she is to him after her ass dies a second time. What do you mean? He respects her enough to not coddle her, she is independent and taught her to be self sufficient from the very start. That's respect. He consistently humanizes her because... She ... Is ... Human! OMG WHAT A SHOCKER!

As Naraku remarks on his hostage to Sesshomaru, "Naturally, the girl you're looking for is not here…,” he continues, “the girl is in custody outside of the castle..." Naraku never makes an attempt to give her personhood, leaving her unnamed, disposable, and relegating her to a mere "girl." But Sesshomaru doesn’t take any of this. He is a cold-hearted Daiyokai, yet he still makes an effort and upholds his principle to refer to her as Rin — not a replaceable “girl.”

Naraku is a mf genius. It didn't quite click until now he wanted to see if she was important or not to him and to what extent. For he planned his moves that way, making people turn against one another. While he wouldn't have made Rin turn against Sess he set everything up so he would end up wanting to kill Kohaku and in doing so, Inugang would have engaged against Sess.

Sesshomaru’s insistence on using Rin’s name isn’t only highlighted in this isolated incident though. It pays off. It is an ongoing theme in their dynamic throughout the series.

That's her name ... How you want him to call her? Baby?

I could go on and on but... This is a fucking essay. And then I stumble against more bullcrap:

The second point I want to highlight here is Sesshomaru’s reaction to Rin’s fall and her risky expedition. At this point, it’s unquestionable that Rin has a special place in his heart.

Of course she has a special spot in his heart. I won't deny that. What worries me is how you're trying to justify the way she's important to him since she was a child. As if his way of seeing her had changed.

I'm gonna disagree by agreeing with you in a few pointers. Kagome and Kikyo were rivals, they both romantically love the same guy. Kagome being the only one who could save Kikyo chooses to help her, knowing damn well Inuyasha would have suffered if Kikyo had died- further more, if it was in Kagome's hands to do something about it.

Rin on the other hand, I will applaud to her how she grew past her fear of Kagura after being kidnapped by her, she saw her body in the river and said fuck it and did her best to try to pull her from the water. I loved how stubborn and brave she was, even tho Sess had to pull everyone out of the water- she deserves a gold star. You go baby girl!!!

Rin later makes a cheeky comment, noting Kagura’s romantic interest in Sesshomaru. Jaken brushes this off as childish naivety. But for the spectator, this establishes two things: (1) That Rin does not see Kagura as a rival for Lord Sesshomaru’s attention, let alone affection; and (2) that Rin is still a child. Rin is certainly a child, with a youthful and fresh outlook on life that brings out the best in people. But even as a child, her relationship with Sesshomaru is incredibly healthy, clear, and surprisingly communicative.

Why would she? She's not a spoiled brat

Nah? I thought her double D indicated otherwise. OF COURSE SHE'S A MF CHILD.

Why do you keep mentioning is healthy? Do you need reassurance of it? Communicative in what way? Cuz if you wanna talk about communication let's talk about how he didn't even acknowledge her ass when she gave birth. He didn't even say her name, didn't even look at her. Tell me now how they are communicative and healthy?

I could go on, I really but all I'm getting from this load of bullshit I'm forcing myself to read is how you do in fact need to reassure yourself thr ship is god tier and is... How you said it was? Ah, healthy.

Anyways, thanks for reading and if you see any typo ... My apologies, I tried. Also if you have any input or I was out of line in some way, my apologies once more.

[polyamorouspunk]

I have nothing worthwhile to contribute to this conversation other than the fact that I am a queer trans person who's very alt and it gives me a lot of comfort that other queer people can hopefully tell I'm genderfucky from it even though I'm closeted.

Anyways the real reason for this ask is because it's reminding me of last week when I was talking to this really cool and cute metalhead guy and he said "As a straight man" and I immediately went "I'm sorry, as a WHAT" cause I was so certain this guy was bisexual

(He did say he's not 100% sure he's straight though so like... 👀)

Yeah! I mean like there are a lot of “straight” people that align themselves with queer people and then find out that they are not in fact cishet… and then there are people who align themselves with queer people and maybe they always will be cishet… there’s always a large overlap too with being queer and being neurodivergent or disabled, etc. There are times I 100% dress “straight” on purpose to better blend in with the cishet community but I mean I’m always going to have short or colorful hair too. The day I made that post actually at work I ended up catching the eye of someone who was really cute and we were exchanging glances and I could tell they were queer because of the glances we were exchanging and I told my manager, who is an open flamboyant black gay man, like they were checking out and he was on the other side of the cashier on the computer and I was behind them and I was like waving and mouthing “she’s cute!!!” And pointing at her and he was laughing. And then Wednesday I went to the school library because I had time to kill and I ended up sitting at a table next to someone with aqua hair that was super short and they had like anime keychains and stuff so when they left I said I liked their hair and they were totally some flavor of not cis and me saying I liked their hair was my way of telling them “hello fellow queer person”. And we do dress that way because, to give an example, I have someone in my class who is genderfluid, and I know this because I noticed they aligned themselves with me and the other visible queer trans guy in my class, so I offered to give them a friendship bracelet with their flags and they were like oh I’m genderfluid and bi and I’m like oh okay! But they live in a strict household where they aren’t allowed to cut or dye their hair or get tattoos or anything like me and the trans guy are, and I feel bad because they want to! They want to look like we do! And before we part ways for the semester I want to try and give them tips to kind of… transition slowly into becoming more alt hopefully in a way that their parents will adjust to even just a little. That’s what it’s about. They saw me and someone else who has even more gender fuckery than me and latched onto us as someone who is forced to be in the closet. It’s about being able to make eye contact with people at your store and have that level of attraction and knowing it’s mutual because I have green hair and Look Gay and they dressed Gay and we can have that kind of “you’re cute” “you’re cute too” look at each other. It’s about “I like your hair” as a way to say “hello, I see you, fellow queer person”. And there’s no reason cishet people can’t participate in that, but when we do all this on purpose it’s simply incorrect, both historically and now to say that there’s no correlation.

But also 👀

[nitewrighter]

Pre-Fall fic idea for a slow day: Echo asks McCree to go on a date. Liao thinks it'll be a good learning experience for her.

“...I dunno about this...” McCree straightened the collar on his shirt. Why did he dress up for this? Why did Liao feverishly take notes on her tablet when she saw he dressed up for this?

“I think it’s a great opportunity,” said Liao, poking at her tablet.

“See the way you’re gettin’ all excited about it makes me feel like a guinea pig.”

“Echo likes you. She trusts you. This is a chance for her to rapidly expand her social interaction repertoire.”

“It’s still weird.”

“How is it weird?”

“Well... how does it work with the age thing?”

Liao snorted. “What?”

“I mean she just got the body! Don't that make it... y'know...”

“The frame is new, yes, but the bare bones of her coding are only a couple years younger than you,” Liao said breezily, “Her processing levels were miles beyond yours well before she even had a body.”

“Ouch.”

“It’s computer science, Jesse, it’s nothing personal.”

“Why’d you give her hips?”

“Well, controlling said body actually has massive processing demands on its own, so you could say what could be recognized as her pelvic region hosts an 'auxiliary AI core'--"

"There's a brain in her ass?"

"Arguably, humans have a secondary brain in their colonic region--"

"There's a brain in my ass?!"

"We're getting off topic. There's a secondary AI core focused on mechanical coordination that is housed in her pelvic region, it was large enough to warrant certain design shifts to suit her center of gravity, and I wanted a friendly and appealing silhouette so --” Liao perked up, “So you noticed the hips?”

McCree’s face burned and he glanced off.

Liao rolled her eyes and smiled. “Jesse... if this goes really badly, I can just erase it from her memory.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m only saying, the stakes aren’t that high,” said Liao, "I think it's cute that you're getting nervous."

"Nervous, hell! I just don't know what to make of it!"

"You've had plenty of perfectly pleasant conversations with her--"

"They weren't dates!"

"Did you just say yes because you didn't want to hurt her feelings?" the brightness and absolute lack of accusation in Liao's voice only unsettled McCree further.

"N-no..." McCree rubbed the back of his neck, "I--I wasn't really thinking. I guess... I assumed you'd think I'd wreck it or... or wreck her and you'd... write it out of her code..."

"Interesting..." Liao tapped her tablet stylus on her chin.

"I ain't that good with sciencey shit! Reyes brought me on to shoot things!" McCree shrugged a little helplessly, "And the way you talk about her, I don't know if she's a--a work in progress, or-or your kid so..."

"A little bit of both. This is where AI gets messy," said Liao with a smile, "You don't know if you're making something human... but you get to make something new."

McCree just stared at Liao for a few seconds, opened his mouth to say something, realized he had no idea what to say to that, and then closed his mouth.

"It's going to be wonderful," said Liao, gently putting a hand on the back of McCree's shoulder.

"Wait--Is there anything I should---?" McCree started but the door slid open and Liao more or less shoved him out into Zurich Headquarters' courtyard gardens. It was twilight, Friday night, and strings of fairy lights had been strung around the sycamores, magnolias, and plum trees that decorated the garden. A couple of brightly colored paper lanterns were strung along the lines of electric lights, giving the usual contemplative and monumental air of the garden a more warm and festive feeling. McCree scanned the garden, seeing a table set with candles and a small basket of bread about 15 feet ahead of him.

"Jesse?" McCree heard a familiar voice and swiveled on his heel to see... a glowing blue-white Dolly Parton circa 1974 in a daisy-patterned peach sundress.

"Whuh..." McCree's face scrunched up in confusion.

"Is this okay?" Dolly Parton spoke with Echo's voice and McCree visibly flinched again. "Oh you don't like it--" The glowing Dolly Parton pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Give me a moment! I can fix it!"

"Echo--?" McCree started, but holographic pixels spiraled around the not-Dolly Parton and reshaped her into.... Olivia Rai, her usual afro styled into the more-textured Gibson Girl hairstyle she sported in Six Gun Killer. 

"What about this?" said Echo, "Is this all right?"

"I mean I like the movie but--" McCree started but the pixels whirled around Echo.

"Lee Byung-Hun, 2016, Magnificent Seven," said Echo. “My scans of your hormone levels showed an overwhelming positive reaction to him.” Again, this hologram form was still in the sundress.

Okay we really need to talk about the scanning thing, thought McCree, but he just stammered out, "They're all really nice, Echo, but you don't have to--" McCree rubbed the back of his neck, "I mean, I think we'll both be more comfortable if you're... you, y'know?"

"Me? But it's so..." 2016 Lee Byung-hun Echo twiddled her fingers nervously, "It's so..."

"It's the you I know," said McCree, shrugging, "I like it, Echo, really."

The hologram fell away from Echo in a shower of cubic pixels, revealing a partially holographic head on a heavily modified omnic frame. She was a patchwork between a handful of standard omnic parts and sleek parts whipped up on-site at this point. No wings. The sundress sagged a little off her metal frame.

"There you are," said McCree.

Echo smiled a little. "Sorry... the hologram capabilities were for optimal interfacing... so I thought..."

"I get it," said McCree with a smile, "I was a little nervous too."

"You were?!" said Echo, "But you're so... charming! And my scans of your antibodies revealed that it was very statistically likely you have had higher than average amounts of--"

"Hoookay! Moving on!" McCree said quickly.

"Moving on," said Echo, processing this.

There was the sound of a cybernetic throat being cleared and both McCree and Echo turned their heads to see Genji in a long-sleeved collared shirt, black vest, bow tie, and apron.

"Genji?" said McCree, suppressing a laugh in his voice.

"...not a word," said Genji.

"I know I got stuck as the waiter back in Venice but this is--"

"I said not a word!" said Genji, furiously. He drew in a steadying inhale. "Ma'am and sir. If I may direct you to your table."

"...oh this is rich--" McCree started.

"McCree, I know 37 ways of killing you in under 11 seconds, do not test me," said Genji.

"Uh huh," said McCree, "Show us the way, Garçon."

Genji muttered something under his breath in Japanese as he lead them to the table. McCree hurried over to Echo's side and pulled out her chair for her.

"Oh--Thank you!" said Echo, sitting down.

Genji rolled his eyes as McCree took his own seat. "Liao was able to negotiate with the headquarters chefs,” he said, setting glasses of water on the table, “You're getting chicken scallopini and asparagus."

"So there's not a menu--?" McCree started.

"You're getting chicken scallopini and asparagus," said Genji, with about as much murder as anyone could inject into the words 'Chicken scallopini and asparagus.'

"Okay," said McCree meekly as Genji walked off briskly.

"Er--don't mind him," said McCree as Genji walked off, "Blackwatch suspended... getting antsy, y'know."

"I don't," said Echo, equally pleasantly and blankly.

McCree cleared his throat and grabbed some bread from the basket between them, buttering it. "Well... You heard about the Venice incident, right?"

"I did not," said Echo, "I'm quarantined from most networked systems."

"Mm," McCree took a bite of his buttered bread, "Well... the long and short of it is, we fucked up."

"Not you!" said Echo on reflex.

"Well, not me, at first--but we had to follow through on the fuck-up if we were going to get out of it alive," said McCree with a shrug.

"I'm sure you did your best," said Echo, picking up a piece of bread. They both knew she couldn't eat, so instead, she seemed to be using it as something to do with her hands, breaking it off into bits.

"Eh, I don't think any of us were at our best," said McCree, "But... you do what you can, right?"

""Mm-hmm," Echo nodded, "Doctor Liao's been able to convince a handful of operatives to bring my AI processor on the orca with certain missions to observe, but my speech is disabled. Apparently it 'freaks people out.'" Echo glanced off resentfully.

"Not you?" said McCree.

Echo nodded. "And I know Morrison doesn't like me learning combat tactics."

"Echo, I can't think of anyone who loves humanity more than you," said McCree.

"Thank you, Jesse," said Echo. She was silent for a few beats. "And.... thank you for doing this. I--I don't know how you see me..."

"I'm still figuring that out too," said McCree, smiling a little, "But... I like to think I'm a good judge of character. And I'm proud to know you. And I'm proud that I mean enough to you to be here."

Echo's hologram face brightened, and she glanced off, a bit bashfully. "I--I can't even eat bread," she said quietly, smiling as she glanced down at the small pile of shredded bread bits on her plate.

"Psh. Bread. You can turn into whoever you want. Why worry about bread?" said McCree.

Echo snickered a little.

"...who's your favorite to turn into?" asked McCree, "I know you were turnin' into all that stuff earlier for me because of all the stuff we talked about and those dumb movies we watched--”

“I don’t think they’re dumb--”

 “But... what about you? Is there a person you like turning into?"

Echo thought for a few seconds. "I would say...Figure skaters," she said thoughtfully.

"Figure skaters?" McCree repeated.

"Not any individual one, but I’ve been putting together a composite hologram of several of them," said Echo, "Skaters, they--they aren't ruled by the same physics as other humans. All that power, all that grace, all on a plane that does not have the same rules of speed or friction."

"Bet you'd be a hell of a dancer," said McCree, smiling.

"I like to think I'm learning," said Echo, with a slightly smug shrug.

"Chicken scallopini," a plate clanked unceremoniously in front of McCree and McCree flinched to attention to see Genji next to him.

"Jesus, man! A little warning next time!" said McCree.

"Ninja," said Genji flatly.

"What about her?" said McCree, pointing at Echo.

Genji looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Jesse, it's fine," said Echo. She waved her hands and a hologram of what appeared to be lobster thermidor glowed into existence in front of her.

"...she can take care of herself," said Genji, walking off, "Let me know if you need a refill on water."

"Don't mind him," McCree said again.

"I don't," said Echo, materializing a holographic fork into existence and taking a holographic bite of her holographic food.

McCree sectioned off bites of his own meal and took tentative bites and chews, but it was good. A faint 'Mm' fell out of him and he opened his eyes to see Echo closely observing him. He took another bite, not taking his eyes off of Echo this time. Echo seemed to do the same, imitating him. But it wasn't quite the same, he observed. There was a lot of Liao in her, the way she'd stuff food off to one cheek and slowly parse it out as long as she needed while she multitasked. He saw it in all the nights Liao had brought takeout to the lab. In this case, Echo perfectly adapted Liao's eating habits to McCree's.

McCree swallowed hard. "Do you ever uh... make food... make you happy?"

"What do you mean?" said Echo.

"Well, if you eat really good food, you go, like, 'mm' and stuff--if all the food is only stuff you come up with... how does that work?"

Echo thought for a few seconds. "I... never thought of food as stimulating the pleasure response. Mostly it just seemed necessary for interfacing. Does it stimulate a pleasure response?"

McCree tried not to focus too hard on the words 'Pleasure response.' "Well, it depends on the food," said McCree.

"Does your food stimulate a pleasure response?"

"I mean compared to the rest of the shit I've had this month? Definitely," said McCree with a shrug.

"I see," said Echo. She looked at her food for a few seconds. She took a bit of her own holographic meal and a deep, sensual "Mmnh," bloomed out of her, her shoulders bunching up and her head tilting back with the sensation.

McCree sharply inhaled, realized his mouth was full of chicken scallopini, and coughed and choked for nearly a minute.

"Did I do it wrong?!" Echo asked with alarm.

"N--" McCree coughed, "No--" He coughed again, "You're-- You're doin' fine--"

Echo giggled. “I--I’m sorry, I’m still deciphering the appropriate forms of human pleasure.”

McCree found his face burning again and just gulped down some of his water.

“...that was an odd thing to say,” said Echo, glancing off.

“Nah, I’ve been told I’m old-fashioned a lot,” said McCree with a dismissive hand wave.

“Well, that’s why I like you,” said Echo, shyly.

McCree’s chews slowed.

“You... feel solid. I know I can trust you to... to tell me what you think... but.. also to be kind. I don’t know what other people want from me, but I know you just want another person. And... you’re very open in terms of what that person can be.” 

“Well I can tell you you don’t need to be Dolly Parton to win me over,” said McCree with a shrug and another bite of his food.

Echo giggled again and McCree swallowed.

“I’m still not sure if I’m doing this right,” said Echo, smiling down at her own hologram food. 

“Eh, you don’t really think of it in terms of ‘doing it right’--it’s mostly just about both of you having a good time. And trust me, you’re a better date than a lot that I’ve had,” said McCree with a snicker, “I just hope I’m doing it right too, y’know? It’s a lot of pressure, being anyone’s first date.”

“Oh!” Echo perked up, “I never thought of it that way....”

“Am I doing it right?” said McCree with a slight lopsided smile.

“Hmm...” Echo seemed to genuinely and very seriously ponder this.

“Oh come on, you’re making me nervous!” said McCree.

“Current assessments are... positive,” said Echo, “More data may be necessary to confirm any findings I’ve drawn thus far. We may have to do this again. An experiment is useless unless you can replicate its results”

“So... second date then?” said McCree, “That’s generally considered a good sign.”

“Oh! So I’m good at this!” said Echo.

“Sure are,” said McCree with a snicker.

Echo beamed. 

“Think we might have to do something other than dinner next time, though. I think if we try to get Genji in a waiter outfit again, he may actually kill me.”

“I estimate by his hormone levels and body temperature that there is an 89% likelihood of that occurring, yes,” said Echo. They both laughed for a little bit, and as the giggles died down Echo tilted her head. “So... you’ve been on bad dates?”

“Oh, terrible dates--but I don’t want to bore you---”

“It could be very useful data!” said Echo with that same brightness Liao had shown when she saw McCree being nervous.

McCree rubbed his chin. “Well... there’s a couple funny stories....”

-----

McCree was humming when he arrived in the Blackwatch sector later that night, bobbing his head and shoulders a bit with his humming as he loosened his bolo tie and took off his hat.

“Sounds like someone had a good time,” Reyes was seated in front of Blackwatch’s main monitor, mindlessly leafing through some paperwork.

McCree barely interrupted his own humming with an “Mm-hmm” as he kept walking past. 

“Reyes, you really must find a way to end Blackwatch’s suspension, or I fear he’ll romance one of the custodian’s vacuuming bots, next,” said Moira, leaning against the desk next to Reyes.

“Eh, if it means getting Genji in a bowtie again...” Reyes shrugged.

“You will never get me in a bowtie again,” Genji seethed from a shadowed corner.

“You asked for a mission--” Reyes started, but cut himself off as the three of them watched McCree continue to walk and hum down to his own quarters.

“...by god, I think he actually had a good time,” Reyes said quietly.

“Madness is setting in,” Moira mused.

“We need to get out in the field again,” Genji said, his voice tense.

“Or maybe you just need a date,” said Reyes shrugging. Reyes heard the audible click of the shuriken plate on Genji’s arm as Genji’s shoulders tensed up. “...or not.”

[blitzturtles]

Title: It Goes Like This (It Starts Like This Universe)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba

Summary: Abbacchio isn’t a morning person. Never has been. He prefers the comfort that comes with a blanket of darkness to the bright hours of the early morning. There’s less eyes. Less people. Less performance. Unfortunately, he’s gone and fallen in love with a man that believes that the day begins before the sun has even broken the horizon.

Notes: This is for the first place to my 300 Follower Giveaway! @bucciaratisfishmarket requested BruAbba set in my It Starts Like This verse with some disabled slice of life/morning routine. Ngl, I was super excited to get to do something in this verse, so thank you!

Thank you to everyone that followed and participated, and a special thanks to @bucciaratisfishmarket! I hope you like your fic!

Additional Notes: Also, the pill organizer described in the fic can be found on Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/listing/1022344896/boneyard-real-bones-weekly-7-day-pill It's cool and beautiful, and I probably don't do it justice. Definitely go check it out!

-

Abbacchio isn’t a morning person. Never has been. He prefers the comfort that comes with a blanket of darkness to the bright hours of the early morning. There’s less eyes. Less people. Less performance. Unfortunately, he’s gone and fallen in love with a man that believes that the day begins before the sun has even broken the horizon. It’s leftover from Bruno’s days helping his father with the boat, and, later, his days running Polpo’s errands. Chasing people down for money and answers. What comfort Abbacchio can find in the night, Bruno can find just fine in the light hours of the morning.

Fortunately for both of them, Abbacchio is more than capable of running on a schedule, of waking up at the same time everyday and forcing his mind and body into cooperation. He did it for years for school and then the academy. It’s nothing he isn’t used to, and he’s happiest when Bruno is happy, no matter what that entails, which is how he finds himself waking up to Bruno’s second alarm before the man can snooze it again.

The thing about Bruno’s new medication—a pill large in size and equally ridiculous in the length of its name—is that it makes it damn near impossible for him to get going in the morning the way he used to. Before, Bruno practically operated on his own internal clock. Waking up before his alarm had even gone off and fetching them both their first cup of caffeine; it used to be the thing that made greeting the day a bit more tolerable.

Now, Bruno snoozes. Alarm after alarm, until they run out. He’s tried music, absurd volumes, and even relocating the damned clock halfway across the room. None of it helps, so Leone compensates. He wakes up around the second or third alarm, turns the rest off, and kisses Bruno’s cheek before he rolls out of bed.

Sometimes there’s a quiet plea, “five more minutes”, that endears Abbacchio so completely that his mood settles, not nearly as bitchy as he could be upon reaching the kitchen and finding someone else already there.

“Why are you awake?” Okay, so. Still bitchy. But he doesn’t sneer his words quite as bad.

Narancia, for his part, looks completely startled by the prospect of someone else existing at such an ungodly hour, but he manages to avoid outright screaming. That’s a plus. Abbacchio isn’t sure his head could take it this early. “What are you doing?”

“I asked first.”

Narancia narrows his eyes, but he caves within seconds. “I got a test in like two hours, and Fugo’s gonna kill me if I don’t pass.”

Abbacchio snorts at the idea, “Yeah, he will.”

“Not helping!”

“Never said I planned to,” Abbacchio points out as he starts rummaging through the cabinets for two mugs. He sets them on the counter and gets to work brewing their coffee. Decaf these days, for Bruno’s sake. Abbacchio could keep drinking his usual, but he takes solace in the bitter taste of his coffee instead. It seems kinder that way, especially when he knows how much Bruno’s been struggling without caffeine.

“Why are you awake?”

“I’m always awake this early,” next is breakfast, which is easier said than done. It’s rare that Abbacchio wakes up with a stomach for anything. Too many years of skipping breakfast in favor of a bottle did a number on him, but it’s not optional anymore. Neither one of them will be able to keep their meds down without something to eat, so he picks through the refrigerator until he comes up with fruit and yogurt as his best solution.

“Really?” Narancia asks, wrinkling his nose, “Why?”

“Ask Bruno,” Abbacchio says, dismissive. He’s really not in the mood to talk to people that aren’t currently snoozing in his bed.

“You’re not much fun in the morning.”

“Am I ever?”

“Touché.”

Abbacchio snorts. He should be offended, but he knows the kid is being a smartass. It’s his own fault for setting himself up. “Why don’t you go bother Fugo? I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you study.”

“Have you ever tried waking Fugo up?”

“No, can’t say that I have.” That’s always been Bruno’s job, assuming that Fugo hadn’t already woken up on his own.

“It’s too early to get stabbed.”

“Touché.”

They go back and forth for a while longer. At least until Abbacchio’s patience runs out, and he’s finished putting breakfast together. He dismisses himself with little warning and doesn’t feel the least bit guilty when the kid looks a little startled by the abruptness of his departure. He has things to get done for the day, and those things don’t necessarily include being part of Narancia’s obvious effort to procrastinate.

“Bruno,” Abbacchio calls when he steps back into their room after Moody opens the door for him. “Your five minutes are up.”

“Five more?” Bruno asks, voice muffled. His head is barely visible with only a tuft of hair sticking out from a pile of blankets. It’s cute, and Abbacchio is a complete sucker for giving in.

“Last one, tesoro,” Abbacchio warns as he sets Bruno’s cup and food down on the bedside table.

There’s a muffled reply that might be a quiet thanks, though it’s almost impossible to tell with the way Bruno pulls the blankets even tighter around himself.

Abbacchio rummages through the drawer of his nightstand until he finds what he’s looking for before taking up a spot at the end of the bed with his food and drink in hand. He sips at the decaf slowly, wrinkling his nose at the first taste. God, he misses caffeine. As expected, he doesn’t feel much better about his first bite of homemade parfait (and he can almost hear Polnareff’s protest at his calling it that). The rest goes down about the same, but the motion is mechanical at that point. One bite after the other with the occasional sip from his mug to wash it all down until everything is gone.

Abbacchio sets the dishes on the floor and reaches for the pill organizer sitting on the bed beside him. He absently runs his fingers over the lid, where small bones have been set in resin. He can still remember the first time he saw it. The black shine had caught his eye first, but, on closer examination, the thing that had convinced him to buy the organizer had been the mouse bones, delicately placed and striking against the background.

What he hadn’t realized then is that the little organizer would a significant adjustment to his daily routine. Having a week’s worth of medication in one place, already sectioned in dosed amounts, had significantly increased his medication compliance. Oddly enough, it’s had a rather hefty impact on his overall mental health. Now, when anti-inflammatories and bronchodilators and steroids are part of his daily regiment as much as his SSRI’s, it’s even more vital for him to consistently get his meds in. Otherwise, the consequences tend to be pneumonia and an unwanted hospital trip with a round of antibiotics and even stronger steroids. And that’s to say nothing of what happens when he’s running low on serotonin.

He’s caught up in his own thoughts when Bruno hooks his chin over his shoulder and peers down at the little organizer.

“I never did ask you if those are real,” Bruno muses quietly.

“I thought you were taking five more.”

“‘m awake,” Bruno answers, clearly half-asleep.

Abbacchio huffs a soft, amused laugh. He turns his head to press a kiss to the side of Bruno’s nose. “Sure you are, amore.”

“I am.”

“M’hm,” Abbacchio smiles, reflecting the expression on Bruno’s face, though his is notably less sleep-depressed. Bruno looks a lot like a light gust of wind might knock him out, and it’s so damn endearing that Abbacchio can barely handle it. Instead, he looks back down at the pill organizer and answers Bruno’s earlier question, “They are. Real, I mean.”

“They’re lovely,” Bruno says, and he means it. Odd as some might find Abbacchio’s taste, Bruno has always found beauty in it. “Perhaps I should get one.”

“Might be a good idea.” It would be easier to see if Bruno ever missed a dose, and it would certainly be easier to avoid that disaster all together. “There are other options. You could go with something—oceanic, maybe?”

Bruno hums at the thought. “I think I’d like that.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” by which Abbacchio means that he’ll actively go looking for one. Anything to make Bruno’s life a touch easier.

“Oh, you brought breakfast,” Bruno says, moving away from Abbacchio to peer curiously at the morning’s offerings. “You’re entirely too kind.”

Abbacchio huffs a laugh at that, “For all that you’ve done for us? Hardly.” He pops open the side hatch of his organizer and dumps the day’s pills into his hand. Abbacchio pulls a face at the number of them and looks down at his mug. Right, he had meant to save a sip.

“Here,” Bruno offers his own with a smile. “We’ll get more in a bit.”

“If you’re sure...” Abbacchio could always go get his own, but he has a feeling that doing so will result in more small talk, and he’s not quite up for that yet.

“I am,” Bruno reassures him before taking up the bowl of yogurt and fruit in absence of his coffee. “Just leave enough for me to take mine.”

[cathrrrine]

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 11 - FAST

tw // violence, swearing

----

I have never, ever told anyone my secrets. I've barely even told them my real name. But everything Fury had said felt like a stab to the chest. I didn't like the fact that he had that power over me. To hear someone say the things I've only thought about in the dark out loud was making me feel exposed. I wanted that to end, and quick.

He was right. That was what angered me the most. Every syllable, every word he had uttered was dangerously close to the truth. No one knew I had nightmares. And no one knew I lived most of my life in the darkness of the Red Room. These were things that I kept to myself. But somehow, Nick Fury got his dirty hands on my secrets, and I wanted the one who put their nose in my business to pay.

"What makes you think someone told me these things?" He inquired. I wasn't interested in his game anymore. I just wanted him to get straight to the point.

"The fact that you question the possibility is a sign." I dug my fingers into my own skin, fighting the anger away. I couldn't let it get out of my control, not now. No matter how much I wanted to strangle him to death, I couldn't risk getting killed. At least not until I find out who spilled my secrets. "Answer me, Fury. How did you get the information?"

He took a deep breath, pausing before he said, "Through a reliable source."

"A source that happened to know everything about me? You're a horrible liar." I scowled. "I made sure those sources were dead. Hell, anyone who knows even my favourite colour is six feet under." Or you know, burnt to ashes. A very creative way of disposing and cremating, I'd say.

"I beg to differ."

"Oh? So, I wasn't the one who killed them? I wasn't the one who murdered them with my own two hands? Who watched them take their very last breath with my own two eyes?" I watched him squirm in his seat, it was subtle but I caught it. "I guess they burned their own bodies."

He laughed, raising his eyebrows in mock humour. "That's cute."

"Adorable, I know." I grinned, but I knew the usual playful sass it carried was lacking. I was dripping venom. "Someone new told you these things. And if you want my full loyalty..." I turned my head to the mirror, which was obviously built for people to look in. If I guessed right, a group of Avengers were standing right behind it.

"Then you'll let me slit their throat."

The man let out a loud laugh, baring his teeth as he did so. "We have files of you, too, you know. Don't need to get so dramatic, L/N. You're not as secretive as you think."

"God. You can stop trying to lie now, Nicholas. There is no file. Even if there was, it would be useless. I wiped all my records clean and I made sure of that." I leaned forward. "Now, tell me the name."

On the other side of the mirror, a certain Avenger was trying her hardest not to run away.

"She's going to kill me." Wanda let out a sharp breath, her heart racing fast. She didn't think herself as someone who scared easily, but the look in Y/N's eyes shook her to her core. "She's already overpowered me once. I'm too weak against her. My powers-"

"-are strong enough to defend yourself against L/N. You have nothing to worry about, Wanda." Pietro cut in, trying to comfort his sister. He kneeled in front of her as she sat, looking into her eyes.

"I meddled in her mind. I invaded her privacy." She stood up from her seat, her chair screeching against the floor as she pushed it forcefully. She was trying her hardest to not explode into a flurry of emotions. God, if stress was visible in colours, she'd look like a damn festival.

"We needed you to." This time it was Steve who spoke up. "What you did was necessary, and if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have even gotten close to her accepting the offer."

"Besides, she's just playing mind games." Natasha chipped in. "She's trying to get Fury to break."

"Well, it might not look like it's working on him but I'm definitely affected." The young woman's eyes glowed red once more, the familiar scarlet waves swimming through and around her fingers. She tried to focus on the warmth, trying to find comfort in the familiar surge of her powers.

"Calm down." Pietro put his hands on her shoulders, urging her to stay seated. "She can't do anything to you. We won't let her." And he swore on that.

"Don't worry about it, kid. I'm sure Fury's got it all under control." Tony moved from the mirror to join his friends in comforting the young witch. "Plus, Pietro's right. We won't let her mess with you."

Wanda chuckled, amused at her family's antics of trying to cool her down."Are you just trying to calm me down so I don't accidentally blow this building up, or do you guys actually care about me?"

"A little bit of both." Tony shrugged. A small laugh escaped her.

"Guys." Natasha's voice brought them back to the problem at hand. Everyone moved to the mirror.

"You can shove that up your motherfucking ass, L/N."

The conversation had gotten heated. The room went still as everyone anticipated Y/N's next words. But then they couldn't hear her anymore.

"He muted us." Tony huffed.

Nick had disabled the speakers, and all they could see was him screaming at her, pointing in the direction of the two-way mirror.

Nobody moved.

Y/N was laughing, her body shaking as she cackled. They could see her mouthing a few more words before Nick slammed his palms onto the table and walked out, leaving her with a smug smile on her face.

Everyone's blood went cold.

"Wanda." The door suddenly opened, revealing a stone-faced Nick Fury. "I'm afraid it's gotten out of my control."

———

After approximately two hours, two men dressed in the familiar S.H.I.E.L.D attire came into the room I was in, and then led me outside to a well-lit hallway. The walls were stark-white, strips of light lining up at the sides of the ceiling.

"Where are you taking me?" I turned to the taller one of them two, trying to get him to look me in the eyes. But he kept his head straight, dragging me along as he walked.

"The Director ordered us to take you to him." He didn't react. He was like a robot...not even an ounce of emotion behind his eyes. I bet he'd be very good at playing poker. Maybe I should ask.

"Can't he just get me himself?" I whined like an ass, wanting to get at least some reaction out of him. But he stayed silent, barely affected. I huffed, turning to the other one instead. He was bald and he looked very angry.

"Is he always like this?" I pretended to laugh. Bald Man gave me nothing but a fierce sideways glance. This was boring. They were boring me. "Fine. Don't talk. Can't believe S.H.I.E.L.D hires people with dry humour."

"Hey...out of curiosity, do you play poker by any chance?" I genuinely wanted to know. Tall Man threw me a dirty look before turning his head away again. Still no damn reply, though.

"Jeez. It's just a question." I stopped talking immediately. I wasn't going to waste my breath on these two assholes.

Just as I was about to bask in the silence, a loud crash echoed through the hallway, the sound of gunfire and shouts bouncing off the white walls.

"GET DOWN!"

I heard the familiar whizz of a bullet coming towards us, and immediately dived to the floor, stomach flat on the ground. It hurt like a bitch, but I'd take a couple of bruises over a bullet any day.

The two men beside me immediately reached for their handguns, aiming it at whoever shot at us. I couldn't see, too busy trying to dodge bullets to focus on the attacker. It was a cursed situation. I was in handcuffs, and I had no weapon whatsoever.

Yet here I was, getting shot at in the hallway of S.H.I.E.L.D's headquarters. What have I gotten myself into?

"Search for her!" I heard a male voice shouting in the middle of all the commotion. Could it be? This wasn't just anyone. The minute I heard his voice, my blood went cold and I froze in my tracks.

He was here. And he was coming to get me.

"We have to get her out of here!" Tall Man yelled to his friend.

I heard the familiar crackle of a radio from where Bald Man was, "Code Red! Code Red! We've got a breach in the security system-"

A gunshot cut him off.

"Damn it–Tall Guy! I think this is the part where you take my handcuffs off!" I prayed he would comply. Please just get me out of here, please.

He didn't respond, so I rolled over to my back and heaved myself up, hands still bound. I couldn't be here. He was here. How did they find out where I was?

It took me years to get off their radar. I was invisible for so long, it seemed like I was so close to being forgotten. But they never forget.

Hydra never forgets.

I ran blindly through the hallway. Somewhere in the commotion, they threw smoke-bombs at us. Even if I wanted to run, I'd risk running into them.

Thousands of possibilities swam through my mind. Was this really the end for me? For my freedom?

My panic levels surged as I felt a pair of hands grab my shoulders. I yelled, but I ducked out of their weak grip quickly, landing on the ground with a hard thud as my imbalance overpowered me. It was an unfamiliar face wearing an all-too-familiar emblem on her chest.

"You." She grinned.

"Yeah, no shit, it's me." I tried to scurry away from her, dragging my body pathetically on the ground as she creeped closer to me. The minite she was close enough, I swung my right foot across her feet. She fell on her ass immediately.

Old-school trick. Hydra's hiring idiots, now?

I scoffed before moving into action, swiping her gun away from her holster and shooting at her stomach. She clutched her wound, howling in pain as blood flowed out. I couldn't afford to think twice about it.

I ran again, this time in the opposite direction of where she had come from. Then I bumped into a brick-hard chest.

Panicked, I aimed my gun at the intruder. Only to find a silver-haired man at the end of the barrel of my gun. He held his arms up. "Don't shoot."

"I could pull the trigger right now." I was breathless–not only from fatigue, but from anxiety. "I would, you know."

He didn't say anything, but he did move. It was a hell of a blur, and just as I blinked, he held my gun in his hand while I stood empty-handed.

"Now you can't." He raised an eyebrow.

"Find her! Now!" It was his voice again.

Pietro's eyes flicked from my face to the area behind me. I turned away from him again, scanning the place for an escape. There was none.

My hands were cuffed. I had no weapon. I had no advantage. I was at a dead end.

There was only one way out of this. Unless I was willing to walk head-first into hell again. And God knew I would take this road just to avoid the other consequence.

"Alright. I give up."

"What?"

"I pledge my fucking loyalty to you. Or whatever it is that you want. I swear." I looked into his eyes, desperate for him to oblige, to listen. "Now get me out of here. Fast."