#everyone else? Clearly flashy and powerful

[crqelsummer]

i feel like in universe ive accidentally made rin a little too Unassuming so OBVIOUSLY now i have to make her absolutely op

[syluslnd]

Hello! Been binged reading your Sylus hcs/fics and would want to try my shot in this request. How would Sylus react to MC using his black card but only spending it for like ice cream and simple stuff? Like, he's glad/amuse/or what that MC is using his card but became ?? when he saw what MC purchased? (I saw this thing on TikTok years ago but I couldn't remember the exact prompt). Tyia if this request makes it out!

sylus reaction to you spending his money

Sylus sits behind his large, mahogany desk, the dim lighting of his office casting shadows over his sharp features. His usual composed expression falters slightly as he pulls up the statement from his black card, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

He expected charges for high-end jewelry, exclusive fashion boutiques—things that exuded status and wealth. Instead, his dark gaze trails over the unexpected: ice cream parlors and… plushies from a toy store?

He stares at the screen for a moment longer, processing before a soft chuckle escapes him—something rare, almost amused.

You walk into the room, unaware of the reaction you’re about to receive. Sylus leans back in his chair, a slow smile creeping across his face, arms folded. His gaze follows you as you approach, clearly waiting for something.

“I didn’t realize you had such… expensive tastes” he says, voice laced with amusement. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes but his tone carries that usual, unshakeable power.

You blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

He taps his fingers lightly against the desk, still holding the black card statement. “Ice cream shops and let’s not forget the… plushies?”

Your confusion deepens and you nod slowly. “Yeah, the stuffed animals were cute. I couldn’t resist. Why?”

Sylus raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he stands up, stepping closer to you. “I gave you access to all my resources—jewelry, designer clothes, anything you wanted and you went for… a toy store.”

You stare at him, completely unphased by his teasing tone. “Well, yeah, what’s wrong with ice cream and plushies?”

He stops right in front of you, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Nothing at all sweetie ” he says softly, though there’s a trace of disbelief in his voice. “But you could’ve bought anything—something expensive, something luxurious—and you chose… something so adorable.”

“I don’t need all that other stuff” you reply, still not understanding why he’s so surprised.

Sylus chuckles again, shaking his head slightly. His hand brushes your cheek gently, his thumb tracing your jawline. “You really are something else” he murmurs, eyes filled with a mix of amusement and intrigue. “I expected you to be just like everyone else. But you’re full of surprises.”

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Next time, at least let me take you for ice cream.”

You tilt your head, finally catching on to his teasing tone. “Oh, you thought I’d use it for something flashy?”

He pulls back, his expression softening, though his smirk remains. “Exactly. But you’re far cuter than that.”

[shoot-i-messed-up]

Clark didn't like Hal??? what dis?

It’s this fic idea I had where I pretend as if there’s some actual friction between early JLA days Clark and Hal—and then explore how that friction might have come to be between those two very agreeable people and how they might come to resolve it. Basically, they get stuck in a place somewhere and have to air out their grievances & bond over having to control such limitless power and what that means for both of them.

It’s kinda been left to collect dust because I had a couple of good pages in my head and then…moved on to greener pastures, I guess. Shrug

But anyway!! Here’s a snippet:

“So,” said Hal, looking expectantly at Clark, “what gives?”

Clark frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, it’s not like I really wanna sit down for a talk about feelings or whatever, but come on. It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to see clearly, there’s some sort of reason why you don’t like me.”

Clark looked up at Hal, surprised. “I don’t dislike you,” he said quickly. A little too quickly.

“Yeah right,” Hal said with a visible roll of his eyes behind his mask’s seamless white lenses. “You’re jumping for joy at the prospect of spending an indefinite amount of time with me in an enclosed space.”

“That’s unfair. Anyone would be worried about being imprisoned,” Clark said.

Hal raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so you admit that you don’t like me.”

The thing was, Clark didn’t like Hal.

But he didn’t…not like Hal.

Clark certainly didn’t have any reason to dislike him, not like Bruce, who regarded Hal as the reckless and needlessly flashy antithesis to Batman, or Diana, whose heartbeat tripped in grief everytime Hal said or did something a little too like Steve Trevor, or even J’onn, who carried a justified simmering resentment against the Guardians and, by extension, the Green Lantern Corps for what they did to his people.

For his own part, Hal was actually pretty polite, if distantly so, with Clark. He was, in fact, probably more polite to Clark than he was to any of the other members of the League. Of course, Hal was much closer to his friends, Barry and Oliver and Dinah, but weirdly enough, he deferred to Clark a lot of the time, whether that was following his orders in the field or hushed down at meetings when he was making snarky asides to his seatmates, where with others, he would argue, flirt, or joke.

It was…odd, that Hal singled Clark out like that. Clark grew up in rural Kansas, where Midwest Nice reigned the dominant conduct toward strangers and friends alike, so he shouldn’t have found it strange, but Hal was a Californian bred true and blue. It shone in how he teased and cussed and took up with the most amount of space possible—with everyone else, that was, except for Clark.

It could just be plain old simple respect. But Clark’s journalistic instinct told him it wasn’t—not when he knew that when they thought nobody would notice, Hal and Bruce would do little check-ins with each other after a mission. For the two most antagonistic and argumentative members of the Justice League, they seemed to understand each other on a level that wasn’t deeper than what Clark had with Bruce but was…somehow, different. But Clark knew Hal respected Bruce, and Bruce, begrudgingly, respected Hal; so whatever Hal had for or against Clark, it wasn’t respect. It was simply…distance.

So…yeah. Clark and Hal each held each other at a distance, and it was fine. And he didn’t even mean it in the way that Batman would grunt out after taking a heavy hit that was most definitely not fine, Clark really meant that it was just…fine.

It’s not as if it created any discord within the Justice League, this little disconnect between two out of the nine members. Hal was far from a social pariah, considering how much he got along with the other half of the League.

Clark was content to let sleeping dogs lie, but it seemed Hal wasn’t.

“I don’t dislike you,” Clark repeated, willing his voice to be firmer this time.

[confused-rat]

The whole souls game thing really shows how piss poor a critic lily is.

She literally tells a computer programmer they're using the wrong term.

But even more then that I think she either can't identify why she dislikes these games or is lying about why she hates them because her initial hate is simply objective and she needs to be right.

Given the media she likes, I wouldn't be surprised if she dislikes souls games for the same reason I don't play them either--they're very lonely and kind of dower. They don't have alot of npcs and those that are there don't follow you around or form friendships with you. To get certain parts of the story you have to read item descriptions.

Lily likes balders gate, dragon age and kingdom hearts, games that use alot of npcs and relationships are a big part of the game. You're also the main character whose important and gets to save the world. It makes you feel powerful and like your accomplishing things in the world for the better.

I don't think it's just the game play lily hates, but because people praise souls games for their tough game play thats what she feels she needs to dunk on because if the game play sucks she's actually right, plus a actually a good gamer (as if thats something someone needs to prove). She can't dunk on it for being isolated or depowering because that's the point of those games. It'd be like saying a horror movie sucked because it was scary. But for some reason she can't just say I don't enjoy that type of game--it has to be that they're actually bad and copying her fav game kingdom hearts.

As misleading as the all the lore videos are, Souls game aren’t very story-driven. They have a story, yes, but the games’ focus is not telling that story, it’s making the player feel accomplished when they take down brutal bosses. The story is there mainly to facilitate the player to the next challenge, something you can overall ignore and still derive enjoyment from the game. (Like playing Mortal Kombat on Arcade, there’s a story, but you can just be playing for the enjoyment of winning.)

(Also that’s not me criticizing, I love Bloodborne and Elden Ring’s stories actually, I was low-key obsessed with watching the lore videos on YouTube for a while, I’m just acknowledging the games don’t focus or linger on those aspects for long before throwing you into Cthulhu’s nursery and siccing demonic fleas on your ass.)

Kingdom Hearts actually has a story to tell, and it’s all about Sora—not the player. When you beat a boss, that’s Sora beating a boss. You’re sharing the accomplishment essentially, but Sora winning was always a given because that’s how the story goes. There’s breaks and down time and side content not necessarily tied to combat. It’s your standard jrpg, just with Disney and a flashy new spin on the combat system.

Honestly, it would be fine if Lily didn’t like it for its lack of character-focused story-telling. That’s valid. Some people just don’t vibe with stuff, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

But shitting on the games because you don’t like them is just piss baby behavior.

It’s giving “I didn’t have fun doing this, so clearly everyone else who is having fun doing it is stupid and I’m the only one smart enough to realize.”

[justatalkingface]

Everything Changed When The War Arc Attacked:

Or, why do I hate the War Arc so fucking much?

At this point, eh, why not? Writing every day is supposed to be good for improving as a writer.

ECWTWAA is a simple, quippy line that holds all of my festering loathing for watching MHA gleefully hurl itself off a cliff once the War Arc happened, and, much like someone jumping off a cliff like an utter moron (or the Air Nomads after the Fire Nation attacked), it has never truly recovered.

*sigh*

In retrospect, MHA had been going downhill for a long time before that point, and a lot of it was something I noticed unconsciously, but didn't quite rise to me really paying conscious attention to it, beyond a few notable points (*cough*, Bakugou, *cough* FuCkiNg NIGHTEYE), but as my brain was somewhat in the off position as I read, I was still enjoying the ride, even as it bumped; the enjoyment was as much, if not more, that I used to enjoy it more than the actual content, but there was enjoyment.

If MHA before The War Arc was a somewhat imperfect roller coaster ride, the only way I can describe the War Arc is if the roller coaster ride abruptly ended in the side of a cliff, only somehow dragged out for months of slow paced agony. I watched, in vaguely real time, as Hori systematically trashed the last foundations of his story, the swan song of one of the best, most interesting characters in the series, toss aside the sudden yet exciting development of it's main villain, and escalate to a higher gear than ever before the constant work to protect some of the most vile characters, including said mass murdering villain, from even the slightest criticism by sacrificing everyone around them, as well as the very integrity of the story, to the alter of, 'They're not that bad, honest! Don't hurt their little feelings, you bully!'

And, I watched him finally finish the lobotomy on his main character, permanently ripping away what remained of his original personality and intelligence, leaving an empty puppet, a Deku, with the singular purpose of driving the story faster, and faster, and faster towards that thing that Hori seems to crave above everything else now: The End.

Freedom, freedom from the strangling chains of a merciless Jump schedule, of a plot long grown too complex for him to manage, or for him to even want to try, and from the burden of writing characters and stories he so clearly seems to despise, for some reason. And if they only way he feels he can get it is by burning everything he's done down to the ground, well, Hori's clearly more than willing.

In all honesty it became obvious that, in all of MHA, he only actually liked six things: Endeavour, Bakugou, body horror, dramatic, flashy fight scenes with flashy super powers, attractive women in minimal clothing and vaguely fetish-y torture scenes on attractive women in minimal clothing.

These things, from that point on, are the only things he has spent real, actual time on, developing, giving focus to. Everything else, everything else, is rushed, pushed constantly forward by Deku, the puppet, as he runs from plot point to plot point as fast as he can, never allowed a moment to rest, to reflect, to really think at all, all in the name of progression as empty as he has become.

In all honesty, it was a needed, if unwanted, shock to help me realize the truth, but at what cost? At what cost is this clarity? The joy is gone now; once I dropped my unconscious acceptance of the narrative, everything I had been ignoring came to me a rush of horrified realization, even the most mild of flaws became glaring, and now reading the early chapters that got me into this story in the first place is just... hollow now, like I'm watching my old self enjoy them, rather than enjoying them myself, and I can't help but be both jealous and vaguely contemptuous at the innocent pleasure that person had.

I'll admit, I'm being more dramatic than I'd like to be, but... I've said this before, I'd been reading MHA for years before this point. Years of enjoyment, interest, and focus, and it's all ash to me now. I'm somewhat bitter about it.

[spectrechosts]

If Anything Could Ever Be This Good Again

The start of one of my older works, and the first time I wrote explicit pornography.

There was a prompt account for magical girl stories, and I wrote some number of responses for it despite the fact that I've only seen Madoka and nothing else of the genre. This is the series in which that influence is the most obvious, what with the Shining Rangers very blatantly just being Power Rangers with Madoka style fail-evil power gems.

Full Series

Dark Ranger Megavolt was causing problems again.

Some of the Shining Rangers would say that she had always been a problem, even when she was still Shining Ranger Obsidian. Scarlet in particular was known to insist that having an edgy antihero on the team was just asking for a heel turn, a fact that she eagerly reminded them of whenever Megavolt's ire wasn't directed at her.

Turquoise had long since stopped arguing that said heel turn might not have been so inevitable if she didn't talk about her that way. Nobody agreed with her anymore.

Obsidian had gone missing during the battle against the Venusian Legion, and three months later Megavolt had turned up with a power gem corrupted by hate and a serious grudge against the team that had left her to die. (Turquoise had looked for her, she had sifted through rubble until her hands bled, until Magenta had dragged her kicking and screaming away from the battlefield.)

If she was in a bad mood, Megavolt was known to crash battles midway through and start electrocuting everyone in sight. Multiple Rangers had ended up in the hospital from these ambushes, some retiring from the team entirely. Curiously, she never seemed to do so when Turquoise was involved.

This time, she had blown the electrical grid. Overloaded a substation. Flashy, but not directly harmful to the rangers. A neon sign saying: "Here I am!"

She wanted attention.

"Well if it isn't my favourite ranger. Alone I presume?" Came an icy voice from a catwalk overhead.

"…Yes."

The other rangers had noticed by now that somebody never seemed to come out of Megavolt encounters quite as badly off as the rest of them. And so, whenever an obvious taunt like this came up they were happy to let Turquoise handle it on her own.

"Of course you are. You know, sometimes I feel like you're the only one who really cares."

"Maybe if you stopped trying to kill our friends they'd come visit more."

"Our friends?"

She thought that might strike a nerve. Megavolt dropped to the ground from her unseen perch, lightning spewing from her power gem in purplish arcs as her temper flared.

"I didn't know I had friends on the team. Can I meet them? Maybe throw a little tea party?"

Turquoise would like to pretend that Obsidian had been less of a bitch than Megavolt, but honestly this was pretty standard behavior.

"Let me guess, is Scarlet my friend? I did always feel this delectable tension between the two of us. Ooh, ooh, is it Veridian? She wanted me back on the team."

Veridian wasn't with the Shining Rangers anymore, after making the mistake of pointing out to Megavolt's face that prancing around in an evil reflection of her Shining Ranger dress was still centering her identity around them, and that that meant she clearly wanted to come back.

"Nobody wants you back on the team, least of all you. You made that very clear." Turquoise lied. She wanted her back on the team a little bit, even if they were clearly far past that being possible.

"You're right. Your team is a bunch of assholes who don't know a good thing when they have it." Megavolt approached Turquoise slowly, a streak of lightning arcing past her but leaving her untouched. "They didn't appreciate me."

She caressed her cheek, the slightest tingle of static on her fingertips. Turquoise's heart skipped a beat.

"They don't appreciate you. But I do." She purred, and Turquoise nearly swooned. If the bad girl act had worked on her as teammates, it was devastatingly effective as enemies.

"Join me, Turquoise. You could be so much more without them holding you back. No one could hurt us ever again."

It was tempting. It was always tempting. The Shining Rangers had grown distant, there were only so many times you could go to bat for one of your team's most dangerous villains before people started to question whose side you were on, prior relationships be damned. She went on missions without backup more often than not these days.

"I'll n-never join you!" She tried to say resolutely, batting Megavolt's hand away. It was somewhat less convincing than intended, but had the desired effect. Megavolt sighed, and then everything was pain, searing and blinding as she buried an electrified fist in Turquoise's stomach.

Turquoise slumped to her knees, and Megavolt threaded her fingers through her hair and grabbed a handful, roughly yanking her head up to look at her.

"Must we do this every time, Turquoise? You know that was me going easy on you."

She did know, she had seen what Megavolt had done to her teammates, she had felt her power light up her nervous system and spent many a lonely night trying to chase the same feeling with a TENS unit she kept hidden away. It was never enough.

"I-I won't submit to-" She choked out, and Megavolt threw her to the ground and zapped her again. Her muscles spasmed uncontrollably and she writhed in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"Uh-huh?" She said teasingly.

Turquoise's breath came in ragged gasps, and she whined at Megavolt's taunting. The shock had run it's course, but her legs were still trembling.

"Use your words, hero."

Her mind was swimming. There was a part of her that recognized that Obsidian was gone, that she was never coming back, and that her and Megavolt really needed to stop doing this. It wasn't healthy for either of them to linger on the past.

There was another part of her that was horny as absolute shit, and only stayed with the rangers for these fleeting encounters.

"M-More…" She whimpered, and Megavolt smiled.

"That's what I thought." She said, her voice laced with smug superiority. "Get up."

Turquoise would have loved to obey, but her limbs didn't seem to be working right at the moment. She got to her hands and knees and struggled to get her legs to support her body. Megavolt just watched, amused.

"Pathetic. I don't have all day, hero. Up." She said, and Turquoise was dragged upward by her wrists. Steel cuffs underneath her Shining Ranger armbands lifted her into the air, a gift from when Obsidian's domain was limited to magnetism. She dangled helplessly a few inches off the ground as Megavolt brought her up to match her height, their faces almost close enough to touch, and Turquoise made an embarrassing noise as she struggled to close the distance.

"Awww, do you want a kiss?" She teased, just out of reach.

"Please…"

"Do you miss me, hero?" She continued, circling her ensnared prey, tracing electrified fingers along Turquoise's legs under the hem of her dress.

"Y-Yessss…" Turquoise whined as Megavolt withdrew her fingers. She couldn't see her anymore, but she could feel the static in the air grow more intense, making the hair on her neck stand on end. Megavolt leaned in, her breath hot against Turquoise's ear.

"Do you love me?" She hissed.

"I do, you know I do."

"How fucking romantic." She said, and dropped her. Turquoise landed on unsteady legs, her wrists suddenly unbound as Megavolt walked away, lightning dancing off of her skin in uncontrollable arcs.

"Wh… Wha-"

"Tell me, Shining Ranger-" Megavolt spun on her heel to face her again. "When after you have your fun little Romeo and Juliet escapades with me, you go home to my enemies, is that love?"

"What are you talking-"

"When they send you out to fucking die on your own, and you still choose them over me, is that love?"

"They need me-"

"Oh they need you? Because they seem to be doing fucking great without me!"

"Do you think-"

"They couldn't wait to get rid of-"

"SHUT UP!" Turquoise screamed, and Megavolt shut her mouth and crossed her arms.

"Do you think I'm doing great without you? I thought you had died! I didn't leave my room for weeks! And then you came back, but did you come back for me? Did you come let your girlfriend know you were alive before launching into your stupid fucking crusade?"

"They left me-"

"Fuck you! I found out you were alive from fucking Scarlet telling me that she always knew you were bad news. Do you have any idea how that feels? And now my entire role on the team is to be the dipshit who tells everyone that 'Oh, Megavolt isn't that bad, that's our friend, we can't fight her' while you do everything in your power to prove me wrong, except not everything, because everyone can fucking tell that you're leaving me alone, and they treat me like shit because of it, and the only person I could possibly talk to about it only ever meets me to fuck and try to convince me that I should also be trying to kill the Shining Rangers, and then has the AUDACITY! TO TELL ME! THAT I DON'T LOVE HER!?"

All was silent save for Turquoise's haggard panting and the crackling of electricity, fading in intensity as Megavolt's anger died down. She glowered, unsure of what to say.

Turquoise sniffled. "Coming here was a mistake, I should- I should leave."

"Wait." Megavolt said, and Turquoise waited. She approached her, meekly this time, her villain persona set aside.

"…Talk to me about it. Please."

Turquoise laughed a strained laugh.

"I pretty much covered all of it there. Team fucking hates me now because I keep going to bat for you."

"Fucking bastards, I'll- I'll-" The gem on her chest crackled to life and Turquoise embraced her, quieting it once more.

"Don't."

"Why?"

"Because I'm asking you not to. I know they're treating me badly, I know they treated you badly. Every time you ask me to join you, I want to say yes. But until I'm ready to cross that line, you don't hurt them on my account. Okay?"

Megavolt grumbled and hugged her back. "…Okay."

"And then after we get their asses, we're finding a less shitty team and being heroes again."

Now it was Megavolt's turn to laugh. "We are? Honey I don't know if you noticed, but I have a bit of a whole rage-fueled power trip thing going on."

"Please, in all of your little ambushes you always zap the villains first, I've seen the footage."

"Maybe I don't want the competition."

"Or maybe, despite your grumpy exterior, you're such a softie that even a corrupted power gem is only dragging you down to morally gray."

"Morally gray?" Megavolt said, eyes wide with mock outrage. "How dare you."

"I said what I said." Turquoise said, smirking. "I don't even consider you a real villain."

Megavolt gasped.

"In fact, I think you're downright nice."

"Oh, I'll show you how mean I can be." Megavolt purred. Turquoise's arms were wrenched from around Megavolt by her wrists and locked above her head magnetically. Megavolt released her grip and let the cuffs pull Turquoise upwards, not enough to match her height this time, just enough that she couldn't touch the ground beneath her feet.

"Th-This is an old trick Megavolt, show me so-mfng!" Turquoise was cut off by Megavolt sliding her middle and ring fingers into her mouth. The remainder of her taunt died in her throat, and she pursed her lips and sucked gently on the invading digits.

"Do you think," Megavolt hissed, and internally Turquoise had to admit that said old trick was still very effective, the combination of being lifted off her feet and Megavolt still being able to look down on her doing unspeakable things to her mind. "That you're in any position to tell me what to do, hero?" A tiny shake of Turquoise's head. "Do you feel in control?" Another. "No, no you don't."

Megavolt admired her handiwork, gently fucked her fingers further into Turquoise's mouth, lingered in this moment, in the faint gurgles Turquoise made as she pushed her fingers in and her hollowed cheeks trying to suck her deeper as she pulled them out.

"I could kill you right now, you know. One good jolt to the brain, no more Shining Ranger Turquoise, no more hurdle between me and my revenge." Turquoise's eyes widened (She knew she wouldn't do it, but she wasn't going to make Megavolt put on a performance by herself), and she attempted to whine through Megavolt's hand. "But I won't, you know why?"

"Becuh ou wof meh?" Turquoise gurgled, and Megavolt smiled and rolled her eyes and pretended she couldn't understand.

"Because I don't need to." She said, and withdrew her fingers, leaving Turquoise panting, drool dripping down her chin. "You couldn't stop me if you wanted to, and you don't want to." She dragged her hand down to the neckline of her dress, smearing saliva across her throat. "I know what you want."

Turquoise didn't doubt it, but Megavolt was dragging things out, which meant it was time to be a brat.

"Really?" She huffed, still short of breath. "Because I wasn't getting those fingers wet so you could make a mess of my tits."

Megavolt frowned and took her hand away. "Well, if I don't know what you want then I suppose we're done here." She said, and Turquoise buckled instantly.

"No no nonono not again please I need to cum I'll be good please-" She babbled, and Megavolt pounced on her.

"This is exactly what I mean, hero." She cooed, hooking one arm under Turquoise's knee and lifting it, spreading her legs and exposing her soaked panties. "It's so easy to make you submit. But you know what-" A devilish grin crossed her face. "You can be in charge." She looked at her other hand, lightning arcing between still slick fingers. "You want to see a new trick? You want to cum? I can do that." She placed that hand on Turquoise's other thigh, and waited for her to realize what was coming.

"Wait, wait waitwait-"

"No." Megavolt said, and sent her power surging from one hand to the other using Turquoise's lower body as a conduit.

All the air left Turquoise's body in a strained cry. Her legs jerked as she lost control of her muscles, but Megavolt's grip was like iron. Her pussy clenched down on nothing as all of her nerves were overstimulated without so much as a touch, and tears streamed from her eyes as her lungs burned.

"I noticed you were enjoying the whole electricity thing, did some research on how to do it right instead of just throwing lightning at you. Do you like it, pet?"

If Turquoise was capable of forming words, she might have said something about how this probably didn't count as doing it right, much less safely, but she was busy struggling to breathe as she drenched the insides of her thighs with cum, completely overwhelmed by the energy coursing through her.

Megavolt stopped, and Turquoise gasped for air, gulping down lungfuls as her entire body shook.

"Hmm. Maybe I overdid it."

"You….think?" Turquoise panted. "You….. fucking……….. bitch."

"Is that any way to talk to someone who gave you what you asked for?"

Turquoise glared at her. "Thank….. you…….. mistress."

"Good girl. You think you can keep going?"

"Yesss." Turquoise hissed, "But do not do that again unless you actually want to kill me."

"We'll fine-tune it some other time." Megavolt said, slipping her fingers down the front of Turquoise's underwear, making her shudder at finally being touched. "But you've been a good girl, it's time for your reward. No more electricity."

"Mmmuh-" She groaned, still incredibly sensitive. "-Maybe a little electricity."

"Of course." Megavolt cooed, sliding two of her fingers along Turquoise's slit, lubing them in her wetness. "Anything you want."

"I-I never did get that kiss…"

Megavolt answered with her lips against hers, and Turquoise silently cursed herself for not asking her to release her arms first so she could pull her in deeper. She was already lightheaded and Megavolt was not helping, biting and sucking and making her whimper into her mouth. She tried to follow her as she pulled away, whining at the loss of contact until Megavolt sank her fingers into her pussy and derailed her train of thought.

"How was that?" Megavolt asked smugly, slowly pumping her fingers in and out.

"M-More, deeper." Turquoise begged.

"The kiss, or-?"

"Both, fuck, please-"

Megavolt obliged, sinking into another kiss as she pressed deeper inside her. Her thumb drew tight circles around Turquoise's clit, and she could feel her tightening as she arched her back and tried to press her hips into Megavolt's palm. She continued relentlessly until Turquoise broke the kiss, strain evident on her face.

"G-Gonna cum again, I, haah-"

"Good girl."

"Fffuhh, sh-shock me, be mean about it." She moaned, submissive even when calling the shots.

"Beg."

"That was begging-" She whined.

"Mm. Beg more."

"Please I'm so close-"

"Then beg, hero. Beg for your ruination at my hands or I'm not going to give it to you."

"P-Please, Taraaaa"

Megavolt shocked her (Harder than she meant to; Surges of emotion lead to surges of power, tricky to control), and Turquoise howled as she squirted all over her hand. Megavolt fucked her through it, curling her fingers, drawing out aftershocks for as long as she could until Turquoise squealed that it was too much.

She slowly released her wrists, easing her down into her arms until they both lay snuggled together on the ground.

~

Turquoise quietly munched a spoonful of cereal back at Shining Ranger HQ.

"Oh good, you're back."

She winced. Scarlet.

"Hey Scarlet."

"How did dealing with Megavolt go?" Scarlet asked, and Turquoise put her spoon down because this was going to be a whole fucking thing.

"It went fine." She answered.

"Oh it went fine? You went and fought our worst enemy by yourself, and it went 'fine'?"

There wasn't any good answer for this, was there?

"Yep." Turquoise said. Scarlet was going to yell at her anyway, may as well not give her more to work with.

"You know, it's funny, because everyone else barely survives encountering her, but for you it's always 'fine', isn't it?" Scarlet said, in the tones of someone who very much did not find it funny.

"What do you want me to say, Scarlet?"

"That you're a traitor? That you're fraternizing with the enemy?"

"Technically I was fraternizing with our ally-"

Mistake.

"Oh here we fucking go-"

Turquoise prickled. Every fucking time they had this argument Scarlet just ignored that Obsidian had been on their team. "Just because you didn't like her doesn't mean she wasn't our teammate."

"You wanna run that by me again?" Scarlet fumed, and Turquoise felt a chill run down her spine.

Actually, she did want to run it by her again.

"You know what's actually funny, Scarlet? Is that I was nice to Obsidian, and now Megavolt doesn't hate me. Isn't that weird? Isn't it fucking wacky how that works out?"

"If you think you can pin this-"

"What is there to pin?" Turquoise screeched, and she felt the chill spread through her extremities, her breath faintly visible in the air. "You all treated her like shit and now she hates you. It's really fucking straightforward!"

Scarlet stormed towards her, cursing. "I knew we should have fucking thrown you out the first time you came back unscathed from meeting her, you fucking-"

The chill built to an icy point in Turquoise's chest, and Scarlet slipped, cracked her head against the table with a sickening thud. Turquoise shakily got up and looked where she fell. Scarlet wasn't moving, blood pooling under her head and onto the patch of ice she had slipped on.

"O-oh shit, oh shit oh shit-"

Turquoise pressed her hand to her gem and it hurt, the frost biting her skin.

"Ooooh shit okay oh god-"

She bolted down the stairs and made for the door, but Magenta was in her way.

"Woah, what's up?"

"Haha you know just going out to do Shining Ranger things splash water on stuff you know me okay bye." She babbled, and darted around her and out the door. Luckily there was a bus right there, and she got on without checking the destination.

She really wished she knew where Tara was living nowadays, because apparently she was joining Megavolt's team whether she was ready to or not.

[anti-katsuki-lounge]

Another mini-rant:

So whenever a character is criticized, something I constantly see is someone claiming that the critic “doesn’t understand the character”. Now, a good chunk of the time, this is true. Sometimes people lack a fundamental understanding of a character. However, someone’s dislike of a character and their writing isn’t always because of a lack of understanding. It’s common for a critic to understand the narrative purpose of a character, their personality, motives, etc. while also having issue with how that character is actually written.

I wanna use Katsuki and Shota as examples.

Katsuki’s story is that he was born with a flashy and powerful quirk. Combine that with a “natural aptitude” for combat, and the boy’s developed a superiority complex that constantly shouts at him that he’s going to be the next top hero. He admires All Might for his unwavering strength. However, his superiority complex turns into an inferiority complex whenever his fragile ego is threatened. Izuku, as someone without a quirk, shouldn’t dare to offer him help as the perceived difference between the two in terms of physical strength is too great, hence why he gets offended whenever Izuku offers him help. Izuku’s mental fortitude is also a direct contradiction to what Katsuki believes, seeing as despite being physically weak, he still wants to be a hero. According to one of the Light Novels, Katsuki also doesn’t understand genuine kindness as he sees kindness simply as a tool to get whatever you want. In U.A, his confidence wavers seeing as he’s no longer as dominant as he once was, and it shatters when he gets kidnapped by the LoV. This is meant to be a turning point for him, to help him figure out what it truly means to be a hero.

This is pretty much what Katsuki’s character is supposed to be as designed by Hori. What causes me to criticize him so harshly though is how his journey’s actually written. I’ve got many posts on why I think Katsuki’s a terrible character, but in short, he faces no direct consequences for his actions that are meaningful and he hasn’t fulfilled his purpose as a character meant to grow (his moments of growth come out of nowhere rather than occur naturally).

Shota’s character revolves around trauma and hard work. He was bullied for a bit while at U.A and his quirk lacks offensive prowess meaning that he had to become a master H2H combatant. The crux of his character is how he reacts to the death of his friend Oboro. He becomes an isolated individual who takes his hero job extremely seriously. Becoming a teacher at U.A, he wishes to not have anyone experience what he has and his teaching style involves showing his students the field of heroics without rose tinted glasses. The problem comes in the form of his unhealthy habits not being called out. His expulsion game and “logical ruses” simply teach his students that they can’t trust him, his expulsions are a permanent stain on his students records (even if they are suspensions) which is almost a death sentence in Japan, his characterization’s wonky (keeping the abusive egotist and perverted gremlin around but immediately threatening expulsion to everyone else), and he displays hypocritical behavior (harping on All Might for having faves when he clearly has his faves too). The effects that his destructive tendencies have on others isn’t explored nor is it even touched upon. Instead, the narrative frames it as a positive thing.

In conclusion, one can criticize and dislike a character while also understanding the purpose of such characters. Bad writing can’t be excused because of the intentions of the author.

[3416]

The nylander convo pre covid years was def reaching the pervasiveness, but never quite got as personal the way it has with mitch. like I distinctly remember don cherry (just threw up in my mouth a little bit) continuously going off about nylander which then made everyone else talk about him and it was just an endless cycle. they painted him as aloof and felt that he didn't care about toronto, but they never really got as mean as people have with mitch now. everyone wanted him out of toronto, but they weren't saying he should never play in the nhl again

but honestly the biggest difference was that the things they were saying about willy weren't exactly wrong either. like they would get mad at his lack of production or sloppy defense or careless plays, which like, yeah. that's exactly what was happening. they didn't have to go on and on about it but he wasn't producing like they thought he would and that was that.

And the thing I can't really pinpoint is when and why the nylander hate train stopped. again, I don't think anyone's faults deserve to be pointed out and dissected on a nightly basis, but he hasn't exactly improved exponentially in any of those categories? maybe the caring about toronto bit? but he still makes careless plays and his career point totals are still less than marner/matthews so? what gives?

I don't know why the blame was shifted to mitch, and again, another guy has to take ALL the blame for this teams shortcomings and have his character be questioned every single day. Nothing about it makes sense.

oh yeah and i'm not making light of the types of xenophobia that can be seen when talking about nhlers. there's plenty of it and i'm not even saying willy wasn't a negative talking point bc i'm sure he was. don cherry is an old ass hag whose opinion shouldn't matter at all 50 years after he stopped playing like jfc. but i do think one man's vendetta and constant bitching is different from like.. proper media outlets going out of their way to misinterpret something (or EVERYTHING) a player says time and time again to drum up talk. i just think things on the internet have somehow gotten worse in terms of clickbait so everything feels even more terrible too. someone does always have to be the scapegoat with toronto but i have a hard time buying that a rookie was taking up as much air time as the public punching bag than a now star player who has an obligation and routine to be in the media more often and all of it follows constant playoff failure from the TEAM. even elliott friedman covering the entire LEAGUE having to stop talking about anything to do with mitch hypothetically unless it was actual insider info bc his mentions went nuts is so........ trash.

and lol about the stuff they were saying about willy. it certainly isn't a nice way to say it... calling him lazy and insinuating shit about his work ethic is attacking his character when i don't think that's the way to put it, but i do think those are still problems in his game, you're right! the thing is... willy was not always productive as he has been right now, lol. his game has grown but mostly in just offensive production and that's it. he hasn't put in the work on the less flashy side of things (while mitch has. mitch's offense has always been top tier but he's dedicated time to growing defensively clearly) and i think it's a valid criticism of him and also a lot of hockey fans don't fully know how to evaluate or value skills away from the puck (myself included to some extent too, it's harder). he's great at creating offense solo... he's a great puck carrier and in transition... he's great when he's out there with a loaded up line like the power play (hence why some of his 'clutch' moments come in those situations too). but i also think everyone talking about his ability to pay attention for a full 82 game span being unproven is right, lol. i saw a tweet abt how he does 'just enough' the other day and was a 'load management king' and like. maybe so but imagine if a forward you've agreed to pay 11.5 would do a little more than that and work on consistency, lol. i get why people are a fan of his game, don't get me wrong. it's fun to watch graceful bursts of offense... i just think there's still irresponsibility there. if he were more willing to buy in, we have a better shot at racking up more points during the regular season and putting us in a better position for the playoffs too... wouldn't need some of those moments of saving lol. it's not just about only 'showing up' in the playoffs moments considered big, which i still think is a stupid argument when every game is important and the best playoff run by a current leaf was 22-23 mitch but. idk. i'm kind of glad berube is trying him at center to give the leafs and willy's game some versatility. i hope it comes with growth, the team will be better for it.

the shift in blame is hard to pinpoint for me too, lol. i don't get why beyond like.. willy bulking up... putting up 40 goals? idk what the threshold is for why things changed this time when mitch was our mvp 2 yrs ago with auston hurt. willy going on a run in a contract year was part of it probably, but it's silly of leaf fans to just decide Now is the year it all just doesn't work just bc only 2/4 core guys are signed on and then declare those are the best 2 we've had the the loss of the others is marginal. bc lol and it's pure coincidence that the major contracts line up in tandem like that. we still only saw them all play under 2 coaches that whole time... anyway. i have no clue what's next, lol. i'm excited to see them play in a different system for real, but i think the dumbest people among us need someone to solely blame for why everything up to this point hasn't worked and why getting rid of that 1 person will result in immediate success while refusing to acknowledge luck plays any sort of role year after year. it's not a fun truth but it's a truth... having 3/4 of ur best players dealing with something in some capacity is crazy work by the universe.

[ikkaku-of-heart]

Ikkaku smiled and nodded at Shanks' request to keep some of the moonshine. She wasn't worried about him figuring out how to recreate the recipe; even if they worked out the ingredients, it was doubtful they'd be able to get the actual distillation process just right. Not without her tech, for sure. "Help yourself. I can always make more. Just don't leave it near open flames or firearms or anything else that could set it off. It's really pure alcohol, so it catches fire like nobody's business. Makes great emergency fuel or antiseptic, though."

The sound of Shanks' laughter rang out, and even among the din of the party it stood out. It was a nice sound. Easy-going and genuine. He seemed like a man who never had to force a laugh, even in the wake of such a morbid joke, and the joy of it was infectious. Ikkaku could absolutely understand why his crew seemed so carefree and ready to party. How could they not when they followed a man like this?

"Law's the best doctor I've ever met. He'll take good care of your liver. Better than you do, clearly," she teased. Of course, she couldn't guarantee that Law would give it back. He might keep it for further study, and from the sounds of things, this Hongo guy might let him if it could curb his captain's drinking. Doctors really were such judgy worrywarts, weren't they? At least the good ones were. The bad ones - which were most in Ikkaku's experience - would have far more sadistic intentions towards it. And that was saying something, considering Law's own unethical medical practices.

"Ugh, Sabaody was such a shitshow," she groused, taking another swig of her drink. What should have been a relaxing, fun experience before heading off to the New World had gone sideways in a spectacular fashion. "I barely had time to do my shopping before things went to Hell. Warlords, cyborgs, Celestial Dragons, fuckin' Admirals - really, the only good that came out of it was us getting Jean Bart as a crewmate." For all that the stop had been a disaster, Ikkaku was grateful they'd been able to not only take on such a strong and steadfast member of the crew, but they'd been able to free him from his horrific slavery. If the Hearts ever had the chance to get their hands on a Celestial Dragon, they'd be sure to inflict every wound and humiliation upon them tenfold in Jean's honor.

Shaking those thoughts from her head, she looked at their crews who were genuinely having a good time. Shanks was right - the chaos of the world wouldn't be settling down anytime soon, but a good party and setting aside any potential rivalries and power-plays was good for them all. "Can't imagine most of the rookies would be up to partying with you. Most seem to be all about flashy shows of bravado to make a name for themselves. Not Law, though. He's smarter than any of those other wannabes."

Ikkaku's smile widened as she talked about her captain, her pride in the man she'd chosen to follow clear in every word. "He knows when you need to put the fear of the Gods in people with a big show of power, but also knows when to be subtle and not pick pointless fights." Well, most of the time, at least. She had noticed that certain redheads did tend to bring out his antagonistic side more than others. At least Shanks didn't bring that out of him. "He's not even in a rush to go into the New World. Said everyone else will be doing it and getting themselves killed trying to prove themselves. And he's right. Why throw ourselves into what's basically a meat grinder right now? Especially with the other Yonko on the move. Better to wait until the smoke's cleared a little bit before sailing into new territory so we can assess the situation. He's a man with a plan, and that's why he'll be the one to succeed where everyone else fails."

"You wouldn't mind letting us keep some bottles of this afterwards?" The smile didn't leave his face and he was clearly enjoying the moonshine she had created. He didn't bother asking for the recipe in the first place. Party or not, they were still pirates and they had their secrets and something was telling him she would not share the recipe with him, no matter the price. So getting their hands on some bottles and trying to re-create it themselves would be the next best thing to do.

The mention of her captains unusual hobby has him throwing his head back in laughter. He heard stranger things but somehow....he looked over at the so called surgeon of death, yeah, he shouldn't be surprised. "As long as I wont die from it or he'll leave permanent damage he can take a look for all I care." Amusement was dancing in his eyes as he looked at Ikkaku over the rim of his tankard again. "Anything is better than a lecture. I get enough of those from my own doctor." One of the many reasons why he avoided his monthly health check-up like the plague and had to get wrangled into the infirmary at some point. "Hell, for all I know Hongo would support your captain with this little stunt...."

And again: As long as he didn't suffer permanent damage from it, he didn't mind having people use their devil fruit abilities on him. Or, try to use them. His haki tended to cancel out most of them, even unconsciously. A fact that had saved his own life a few times actually. But that wasn't something they needed to know.

The mention of Sabaody gets his attention and he lets out a small hum before half-emptying his whole tankard in one go. "Right. All of you rookies who made a name for themselves in Paradise where on Sabadody not to long ago." He remembered that Benn had mentioned something along those lines to him, shortly before the news of Aces execution had reached them. And it explained how they had managed to be so quick at Marineford that day.

At her next question his smile was back on his face and he gave a nod. "Aye. A good party is always enjoyable. And like you said: Exactly what both of our crews needed." The New World was still in chaos and he had a lot of cleanup to do. A task he dreaded already. Dealing with overconfident rookies was always a hassle. Not to mention that he would try to get some of Whitebeards old territories under his control. Not wanting to let Kaido and Big Mom snatch up all of them and bring even more chaos.

"It's been an eventful time. Doubt its gonna be over any time soon." If anything things would get much worse before they calmed down again. "Plus, it's a welcome change to simply have a good time with a rookie crew instead of them trying to fight us." Like that one redhead had done not to long ago.

[apas-95]

The most outwardly confusing aspect of conspiracising is, I think, the propensity to make conspiracies around things that really happen and are readily explained. However, I also think this is the aspect that explains the logic behind it most clearly.

There's no need to come up with conspiracies about 'elites exploiting children', as a thousand of them exist, when the real exploitation of children is so widely-known and well-documented. Not just in the most flashy cases, of trafficking rings and kidnappings, but in the myriad of ways that the exploitation of children benefits the existing social system and its power structures. Child labour, familial abuse, institutional abuse, miseducation, a thousand ways children are exploited and mistreated for the benefit of the capitalist class that are known by everyone, yet none of these generate conspiracies in the way made-up harvesting of brain chemicals do.

But that's the point, isn't it? Everyone knows about these evils. You've known about them as long as you can remember. Children in sweatshops is just a passive fact you absorbed as background noise. It's not just that real evil is boring, compared to these ones nobody's heard of before - it's that you're complicit, aren't you? If you've known about child exploitation your whole life, and just passively accepted it, then it can't really be a problem, or you'd be complicit, wouldn't you? So, wouldn't it be better if there were some worse evil, one which nobody knows about, and the only people that do know are the ones perpetrating it? The second you find out about this evil you'd be opposed to it wholeheartedly! You couldn't be complicit at all, you raised your voice about it the second you knew - the only ones complicit in this are an unambiguously evil group, which you're not a part of, all of which know they're complicit, because they're actively carrying out the evil. Everyone else either doesn't know, or they're rallying along with you.

Conspiratorial thinking is a denial of the complexities of reality when that reality comes into contradiction with binary moralism. It's a self-defence mechanism for the Christian soul, to refuse complex, social evils in favour of clear, in-group out-group ones. Ones where you're not the out-group.

[michiieewrites]

THORST COLLAB: Bakugou - Starving till I tasted you

A/N: First: IF YOU’RE UNDER 18, BEGONE FROM MY BLOG SINCE I WRITE MATURE CONTENT!! This one has been sitting in my documents for almost 2 months now. This week inspiration finally struck me once again tho!

This fic is actually a Thorst Collab between my lovely friends & I on Discord. I’m the first one to post mine, so I can’t wait to see what the others will write!

Now.

STRAP ON YOUR SEATBELTS CAUSE THIS MOTHERF!@#$%CKER IS 4.2K+ WORDS LONG

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If someone told you a year ago that you would have enough money to pay off your student debt, buy your dream apartment, help out your family and friends, move abroad and drive in a ’67 Chevrolet Impala, you would’ve died laughing at the joke.

You told yourself it was stupid, buying that lottery ticket. But here you are; $100.000.000,- on your bank account. A young and now rich Omega in her prime. After making sure you had spend part of it wisely, you made sure to live the rest of your life on interest alone.

The first month had been nice. Decorating your new place, going out for dinner every day, getting a new wardrobe, spoiling yourself silly. You got new nesting materials, softer blankets and bigger pillows. It felt nice. Until it didn’t anymore. It started to feel pointless and empty. You felt like you were becoming one of those people that flaunt their money and that isn’t the type of Omega you are.

So here you are. Sitting in your peach colored dress and a numbered paddle in your hand. Tonight, you attend a charity auction. The charity was a rehabilitation program for criminals who want to get back on the right path.

The auction items aren’t exactly… items. They’re Pro Heroes. People could bid on having a date with some of the most desirable Pro Heroes, Alphas, Betas, Omegas, all of them. Even No. 1 hero Deku and No. 4 hero Red Riot are up for auction, both being Omegas.

One of the last dates are being auctioned and you realize you have been zoning out. Not having bid anything yet, you put up your paddle.

“Going once, going twice… SOLD TO NUMBER 917 FOR TONIGHT’S HIGHEST BID OF $300.000,-! A date with explosion pro hero Ground Zero!”

Oh lord. Yes! You got- wait… You got actually got it? You won a date with Pro Hero Ground Zero. Wasn’t he the one with the explosion quirk? Impressive power and always capturing the villains. What separates him from Deku is his social skills. Or lack thereof, to be more precise. Ground Zero isn’t really the type of hero to stick around the people he saved to see if they’re okay.

On top of all that he’s also an Alpha. Highly sought out by Omegas who want a pup, but not the Alpha. His genes are what people want, not the man himself. His personality also making it harder for people to approach him. And you just won a date with the most desired and aggressive Pro Hero Alpha there is.

“Oi!”

The voice behind you pulled you from your thoughts. The subtle scent of caramelized candy apples caught your attention. You turn around and find a handsome Alpha standing there. Arms crossed, cardinal red eyes watching you and his lips in an almost angry looking pout. This is the man you just bought yourself a date with.

“H-hi!” you manage to stammer out.

With a huff, he places a card on your table. You pick it up and see that it’s a business card from Ground Zero’s agency. At the bottom, writing in sleek handwriting, is a phone number. You look back up at him, ready to ask him why he gave this to you. But he’s already turning around and heading for the exit.

“Just contact me when you wanna plan that date things.”

And just like that, you had Ground Zero’s personal phone number.

 ~ A few days later ~

 You’re sitting at a small booth, sipping on your matcha latte. You were a half hour too early, so you decided it wouldn’t hurt to go ahead and order a drink before Bakugou would arrive. In his very first text he made it clear to call him ‘Bakugou’ and not by his hero name. He said that it would feel too much like an interview otherwise. In return you told him to just call you ‘Y/N’.

After some back and forth texting the last couple of days, you two agreed to meet up at a local coffee shop. Not a lot of people know about this shop. It’s small and the interior looks more like cozy living room than a flashy coffee shop. It was your favorite place to sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee, tea or like right now, matcha latte.

Neither of you had any set plans for the rest of the day. Just kind of going with the flow seemed like the way to go. This would give you the freedom to hopefully have a quiet ‘date’. But you can’t really know that for sure when the person you’re on a date with is a Pro Hero.

The sound of the bell above the front door rings. You look up and see him walk in. Sitting all the way in the back, you can’t even smell him scent. Weren’t Alpha’s supposed to have very strong scents? Maybe he’s on suppressants?

He scans the shop, probably looking for you. His eyes land on you. He walks over and sits across from you. He leans back against the chair and swings his right arm over the arm rest while the left one is resting on the table. His eyes trail down from your face to the drink in your hands.

“I see you couldn’t wait for me to arrive,” he gruffly says.

“Uh-uhm, yeah. Sorry, I was super early. I hope you don’t mind.”

The silence that spreads between you two makes your Omega feel uncomfortable. Something doesn’t feel right and you’re starting to think that the Alpha in front of you truly doesn’t want to do any of this. So, to make it a little more bearable for yourself, you pump out a small amount of calming pheromones. Just to take the edge of this meeting.

Bakugou keeps looking at you. Until he finally picks up the menu card and says: “It’s fine. It’s your day, after all.”

He was right, you figured. But you still wanted him to have a pleasant time today too.

And so the day continues. The conversation isn’t very lengthy or deep. You discuss basic things like work, hobbies, favorite food. After a while the conversation kind of dies down. You suggest you two head out and into town. The man in front of you doesn’t seem overly thrilled about it, but still agrees.

When you go up to the front to pay, you hear him quickly walking up to you. He pulls your arm back. Surprised, you let out a small sound of shock and look up at him. A confused look is on his face and he pulls his hand away from you.

“The heck are you trying to do?”

Confused, you say: “Uh, paying?”

“I see that, but why? Omegas don’t pay when they’re with Alphas.”

Wow. At first you didn’t know how to respond to this remark. True, Omegas usually aren’t the ones paying on dates. In the past an Alpha would go out and hunt for their Omega. Since the hunting days are over and many Omegas work nowadays, treating them on dates are a way to show the Omega they can provide for them.

“Well,” you say as you hand over the money to the Beta barista behind the counter and thank him, “I don’t know about other Omegas, but I’m perfectly capable of paying for drinks too. I can provide just as well as any Alpha.”

You two walk outside and turn left to head into town. You’ve been meaning to go to the bookstore and hopefully find some new reading material. Two birds, one stone, right?

“Tsk, should’ve known a rich Omega like you doesn’t like to be told what to do,” Bakugou mumbles to himself.

You stop in your tracks. What? Was that really what he thought of you? A rich and snobby Omega?

Realizing you’re not walking beside him anymore, Bakugou turns around. Your head is bowed in shame. Normally your scent smells like peaches and hazelnuts, but now it turns into that of rotten fruit. You feel called out. For winning the lottery, for treating this Alpha to some drinks, for basically buying yourself a date with someone who clearly wishes to be anywhere else but here.

Your voice shakes, but you gather all your courage. “I’ll admit I was given a lot more financial freedom recently. And yes, I don’t like being told what to do. I believe everyone should be treated equally, regardless of their second gender. But I have never in my life asked for something. I was taught to work hard, to help people and to help and reward the people that help you.”

You pick up your head and look him straight in the eyes, politely smile and say: “I’m sorry you had to do this. This isn’t really how you planned your day would go. You can go, if you want to.”

As you pass him, determent to still go to the bookstore, you feel a weight being lifted from your heart. It really is unfair to the Alpha to make him go on a date with someone he doesn’t like. Deep down inside your Omega whines sadly. She recognized a good and safe provider in the Alpha, one who isn’t driven by hormones to just get an Omega pregnant. One who isn’t controlled their Alpha status. Too bad his Alpha isn’t interested in the Omega.

“Fuck, crap- wait! Shit!”

The cursing Alpha quickly catches up to you. He stops in front of you, holding up his hands to halt you. “Okay, fuck-just… let me explain.”

You cross your arms at him and wait for him to continue.

“Okay, so… Listen, I’ve been a real dick to you. Not just today, but basically since that charity event when I gave you my card. It was wrong of me assume anything about you. Shit Y/N, you’ve been nothing but nice to me. You don’t mind carrying the cost of a date, you’re not flaunting it around town that you’re spending time with a Pro Hero, you put up with my shitty responses and that isn’t how you should be treated. Or anyone for that matter! You deserve a proper date. So just, maybe I can make it up to you?”

By the end of his apology, Bakugou practically gives you angry puppy eyes in an attempt to ask for forgiveness. He reminds you of an angry Pomeranian. Smiling, you tell him that you forgive him. This day is supposed to be a fun one.

“But! You’ll have to carry the books I’ll buy as a punishment. And just so you know, I always come out with two shopping bags,” you tell him.

Bakugou just grins. “Fine. They’ll probably weigh nothing for me.”

Something in the air changes. A little sniff of your nose helps you identify the change. The scent coming from the Alpha next to you is slightly peaked. You heard that when an Alpha is preening their scents get stronger. You hardly think that’s the reason. Maybe it’s just because he’s in better mood now. Whatever the reason, you find yourself agreeing with your Omega; it’s a very nice scent.

 ~ An hour and a half later ~

 “I’ve never met someone who spends over an hour inside a bookstore!”

“I told you when we came in that it could take a while,” you reply to Bakugou’s complaints.

“You do this with nesting stuff too? You know, blankets and shit,” he asks.

In both his hands, Bakugou is carrying a bag containing close to twenty books you can add to your bookcases back at home. Even underneath the sleeves of his hoodie you can see the muscles of his arms. He’s not as bulky as Pro Heroes Deku and Red Riot, but those muscles are pretty impressive. You bet your money that those thighs could squish a watermelon. You can practically feel the water filling your Omega’s mouth. She wants nothing more than to chomp down on those delicious shoulders. And honestly, you wouldn’t mind that either.

You remember you were asked a question. “I do. How else am I gonna know I made the right choice? All of those blankets and shit, as you put it, go in my nest. I’m at my best with a perfect nest.” A confident smile forms on your face and from the corner of your eye you can see Bakugou looking at you. A small smirk creeps up on his face.

While enjoying our little banter, you both failed to notice the Alpha towards the two of you. Until he opened his mouth. “I bet I can make your nest even better, little Omega.”

The other guy stops right in front of you, completely ignoring the Alpha next to you. You’re shocked and take a step back to create some distance between you again. But the guy doesn’t let up and steps closer again.

“No, now get lost,” you firmly say. This wasn’t the first Alpha-asshole you encountered.

“Awh, why the sour face, baby? Bet I’ll be more fun than the hedgehog here.”

“Oi, asshole! She said to get lost.” The smells of pheromones of two Alphas are dominating the air. The strongest one being the creepy guy, Bakugou’s not so much. You honestly confused on that point. With an Alpha as desirable as Bakugou, you truly expected a stronger scent.

You can’t help but release your own distressed scent. The tension is getting to you. Even other people noticed and are stopping to see how this plays out.

The creep briefly looks at Bakugou before returning his attention on you. “Come on, baby. Ditch this  guy and then you and I can have our fun. What do you say?”

He extends his hand to put it on our waist and before you know it, you slap his hand away and punch him in the face. He stumbles back while cupping his now bleeding nose. Screaming in pain and shouting names at you. He’s beyond pissed; punched by a fucking Omega!

The adrenaline is pumping through you and every instinct in your body is telling you to run. Hide. Find an Alpha to protect you. You’re frozen on the spot. Your mind shutting down.

That’s when you feel a hand tugging you away. Your Omega recognizes the person this scent belongs to. Caramel candy apples. Bakugou.

You don’t know where he’s taking you. Your mind still processing things. All you know is to follow. ‘Cause he’ll lead to safety. Alphas keep Omegas safe. Follow. Safety. Alpha.

By the time you get to take in your surroundings, you realize you’re in an office. An office? What are you doing here? You look around and see a wooden desk with a black leather chair. A small bookcase, a closet and a couch with coffee table. A puffy black rug is covering the wooden floor, complimenting the one black wall behind you. The other walls are a tinted orange color.

The scent hanging in this office is… comforting. Soothing. Safe. You’re safe in here.

You’re seated on the couch. Wrapped in something soft. A blanket. A big, fluffy and soft blanket. The scent is even stronger on the blanket. You slowly inhale, imprinting this delicious mix of sweetness. After a couple seconds you finally notice the man next to you. Bakugou grins as he sees your focus shifting to him.

“I take it the blanket is approved,” he jokes.

You slowly nod. This small little cocoon makes you feel less vulnerable. Just like the presence of Bakugou next to you. It feels right. “Where are we?”

“Oh yeah, fuck. We’re at my agency. This is my office.”

You’re confused. “Your office? Why? I’m sorry, I kind of… froze. Can you tell me what happened afterwards?”

The smile that spreads on his face makes you feel funny inside. “What happened?! Y/N, you punched that fucker right in his fucking face! Shithead had it coming, tho. You just beat me to it. Omega or not, you know how to fight.”

You two look at each other and burst out laughing as you think back to that glorious moment. The creep definitely didn’t see your punch coming. It feels good to know the man next to you thinks you’re a decent fighter. He seems to actually be enjoying your company. Maybe he’s one of those people that are careful with who they get comfortable with. It feels good to know he feels like he can relax a bit more around you now.

You jokingly nudge him and say: “I bet I can even take you on, you big grump.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrow is raised, grinning with his canines on display. “Prove it then.”

Knowing a challenge when you see one, you keep your eyes fixed on his cardinal ones and slowly lean in closer. Baring your neck to the side in submission to lure in his Alpha. Your Omega is very pleased by the motion. Just as he moves to lean in too, you throw the blanket in his face, grab his neck and shove him down on the ground. Stradling him and jabbing your elbow into his side, pressing your nails into the skin of his neck.

Smiling down at the man below you; “How’s that, Alpha?”

A short lived victory as he snarls and the two of you roll over, with Bakugou keeping you pinned underneath his weight. He may not look like it, but this man weighs a ton!

“If you’re trying to be a worthy opponent, why not call me by my first name? It’s ‘Katsuki’,” he breathes heavily atop of you.

Next to your ear you hear a low grumbling sound. Still seeing this as a playfight you laugh and reach back. Your fingers finding pressure points in his neck, making him let go of you. This gives you the chance to overpower him again and straddle him once more while holding his wrists above his head.

Victorious once again, you look down. Growling and teeth bared, the air around you growing thick. The smell surrounding you hits you like thunder. The caramelized candy apple scent overwhelming your senses. Your eyes travel down to his neck and see something you failed to notice before; gland patches. Patches to block someone’s scent from becoming too noticeable. That’s why the other Alpha smelled so much stronger. But now, now you’re drowning in it. You can pick up on rage, possessiveness and… arousal. As much as he’s growling and snarling at you, you know that he’s enjoying this too.

Chuckling at you, he cranes his neck. His face now closer to you than a moment ago. “I’m pretty sure I just got my ass handed by the most perfect Omega.” His words push through the alarm bells his instincts are sending off. His Alpha is not pleased about being pinned down. But as it takes in the Omega’s scent of peaches and hazelnuts, it can’t help but lie down and surrender itself to this tasty smelling Omega. An Omega that can fight back. An Omega that can hold him close. An Omega worthy of carrying his pups.

His Omega.

Before either can properly get out any words Bakugou has wrestled his hands free and grabs a hold of your hips while your hands pull his face closer and seal the distance between your lips. The taste of sugar coated apples is even stronger on his lips and you can’t get enough of it.

His fingers press deeply in your skin, kneading the flesh. His hips pushing upwards while holding you in place. The low rumbling sound in the back of his throat being accompanied by your mewling. You wanted more of him, your Omega needed more.

The Alpha makes his displeasure heard. You both part to breathe in fresh air. His lidded eyes are on fire and following every movement you make. Your hands slip down to his collarbones and settle on his shoulders. The path of your hands make Bakugou throw back his head. His body is pressing into yours desperately, like he has no control over it anymore. His growling increases in volume.

Through gritted teeth he manages to speak to you. “Fuck, Omega. What are you doing to me?”

Taking a leap of faith, you answer: “I don’t know. All I know right now is that I need capable Alpha to take care of me. Are you that Alpha, Katsuki?”

Before you can even blink, you’re being rolled over again. This time you’ll let him have his way. His hands are sliding their way up to your chest, grabbing the front of your shirt and tearing it apart. You try to protest, but you’re stopped by the warning growl of his Alpha. You lay back down and occupy yourself with running your fingers through his hair. Your gently massage making the Alpha let out a content sound.

Entranced by the man above you, you hardly even notice his onslaught on your clothes. And his own clothes. Getting those replaced will be a worry for later, your Omega decide. All you need to focus on right now is Katsuki. You want this Alpha to mate you and it needs to happen right now, or else your Omega just might perish on the spot.

That’s when you feel it. The hard and heavy feeling of his cock rutting itself against your core. Your body can’t help but react to it and release a good amount of slick. Katsuki’s mouth nipping along your collarbones as your bare you neck in submission. You feel his fangs graze your scent glands and you start to whimper desperately.

“Fuck, Y/N. Keep making those pretty noises,” Katsuki says.

“Yes, Alpha, yes. Just-ah shit! Just fuck me already!” you loudly exclaim.

Now who is Katsuki to deny such a nice plea from such a good Omega?

Wasting no time, he slides himself inside. The stretch making you cry out for more, deeper, more, anything he can give you. You just know you need more. Barely able to hold himself back from ramming himself inside and fucking you like you’re in a heat, he takes his time for your to fully take him in. A sigh of satisfaction leaves you both when he finally does.

Your legs wrap around his waist and try to pull him deeper in. Your fingers curl around his spikey locks and tug harshly to get him moving. Grunting, Katsuki finally complies. Being buried inside you sends him into over-drive. You feel too damn good around him. He feels too good inside you as he sets in a brutal rhythm. You’re pretty sure no other man could ever make you feel this good. No other Alpha could ever please your Omega ever again. Feeling his body slam into yours like his life depends on it is possibly the best feeling in the world. Your lungs are sending out a mix of his name, pleas for more, for him to go faster.

Katsuki can’t help it, he can’t stop himself anymore. He need to do this, he needs you, his Alpha needs to mate your Omega. Give her everything she wants and all that she’ll take. Only the best for his Omega, he will be worthy of giving her pups.

You can feel the base of his cock starting to inflate. His knot. His knot is growing. As soon as you notice, you start to claw at his back. A need filling you till the point you’re almost bursting.

“Alpha! Knot, please- Alpha, knot me- I need- Need your knot, Alpha!” you scream in desperation.

He wants to. Oh, he wants to so badly. But in the back of his mind there’s one braincell left that tells him that now is not the time nor the place. His Omega deserves better.

“You deserve better than to be knotted in my office, Y/N,” he moans, “please give me a chance to give you something better one day. I’ll be the best fucking Alpha there is!”

You love the sound of that. Something better. Somewhere in the future. A future with Katsuki. “Yes, Kastuki! Only you, you’re the only Alpha, please, I’m so cl-“

The moment he sinks his teeth into the flesh just above your collarbone, you’re send into a world of blinding lights and exploding fire. His name keeps falling from your lips. The waves of fire keep pulsing through your body.

The tight grip around him becomes too much for Katsuki. He needs to pull out or else he’ll knot you for sure. When he you keep chanting his name, he pulls out and covers you in thick, long, white streams of his cum. Covering you in his seed, marking you as his in an obscene, but beautiful way.

“Look at you, perfectly covered in my cum,” he pants.

You preen at the compliment. A content scent is released. The smell of a happily fucked Omega. Katsuki could get addicted to this smell.

With the shredded pieces of clothing he cleans you up. He pulls the blanket you discarded earlier over you both as he lies down next to you. Your tired and warm body cuddles closer to him. He drinks in your scent a you purr softly.

“What did you have the blanket for in your office?” you ask with a yawn.

Katsuki looks down at your half-asleep face. A smile forms on his lips as he gently kisses the top of your head.

“I kept it for my future mate.”

Tagged: @reinawritesbnha @thots4daze @hipster-merchant-of-death @aizawascumslut @strawbirb @ravenfeet222 @sailor-manga @yanderart @league-of-villians-headcanons

[icaruskey]

Translation for we plebs:

The discussion around transandrophia is built on flawed assumptions and beliefs and that bothers me more than community infighting. This is part because I dont actually spend any time listening to trans masculine aligned individuals.

It's no surprise to me that those looking to transition into manhood (which I view as an all encompassing dominant societal class) are offended by the idea gender identity is a social construct (like race) rather than something we are born with and/or have deeply ingrained into our very selves.

Moral dissonance is the feeling that comes from when one desired behavior contradicts a morally superior behavior. An example of this would be eating another slice of cake despite knowing not everyone has had a slice yet. I am not responsible for your moral dissonance when it comes to your gender identity and the societal constructs of gender and patriarchy and how men as a class hold power under current social roles.

Moralism is defined as the act of moralizing, especially in the act of judging someone else's morality. Moralizing is the act of commenting on the acts of right and wrong, usually with an air of superiority. Thus, I am done with judging someone else's morality and you should be too.

In fact, go read Tiqqun, a late 90's/early 00's French Italian anarchist zine and a pen name for the various writers of this zine and other articles. [AN: I personally have not heard of Tiqqun before now and thus cannot speak on the veracity of this reference in the later rebuttal].

Your subconscious motives towards ??? are bad.

Rebuttal:

For a self-declared anti-moralist, your words drip with judgement and an unfounded confidence that clearly yours is the only correct opinion. The irony that you claim to be above moralizing only to then judge a group of people you in fact have zero contact with is a comedy I hope people reading catch onto with my translation if they weren't able to before.

The fact you have consistently and proudly admitted to knowing almost no one on the trans masc side of the community means your words are built on an artifice far more shaky than any logical fallacies you think you see in a group of people bound only loosely by an agreed upon word to discuss a phenomena not truly unique to trans men. Even if I were to suspend my disbelief and steel man your points (steel man being the opposite of straw man, in which you try to make the opposing opinion as strong as possible) I simply cannot overlook that you don't actually talk to trans mascs.

Your arguments are contradictory and your foundation is sand. No one should take you seriously, no matter how flashy and pseudo intellectual your words are.

Final grade: D+

honestly the absolutely horrendous analytical framework offends me more about "transandrophobia" than the whole transfems and transmascs picking fights w each other. bc, uknow, i don't interact w transmascs that much. yeah no surprise trans ppl who identify with the gender category of Dominance are gonna balk at the suggestion that gender identities are constituted rather than innate. no, your moral dissonance is not my problem. I'm through with moralism and maybe you should be too. maybe go read some tiqqun about it. and your unconscious motives stink to high heaven too

[prancingintheshadows]

Licensed Video Games are such an interesting topic honestly. On a surface level, you might be able to say “Oh, this series would be great as a fighting game” or something, but I’m more interested in a lot of weird tells that a game is a licensed game. Like if you approach the topic from the other direction. If this was a game, what’s the oddities that are antithetical to game design?

Like Dragon Ball. Dragon Ball is a series with a huge emphasis on fighting, so fighting games is like the perfect fit right? Yet, if you stop and think about it, RWBY characters fit fighting games better than Dragon Ball characters.

I sincerely mean that.

Look at Dragon Ball Figherz. Yes, great fighting game, but the characters are clearly not initially designed for fighting games. I’m not even talking about how there’s like 6 Gokus. There are other games that have the same character but slightly different like Evil Ryu or Order Sol. I’m more talking about how in most fighting games you can tell how the character is going to play at a glance.

Look at other fighting games and then compare it to Dragon Ball. In Street Fighter, Ryu’s wearing a standard white gi and is a fundamentalist character. Everyone else who’s dressed like him has the same moveset but iterates on it in a different way. Ken in red is more flashy and combo focused, Akuma in black is high power but low health due to honing his craft to kill people, and even Dan in pink is the joke variation. Evil Ryu is also just Ryu but more aggressive

Look at Fighterz and while 4 different people are wearing orange gis, the only move they share is the kamehameha, and even Cell and Kid Buu have those moves. Same with Goku and the various Gokus. We got Base, SSJ, Blue, Rose, Ultra Instinct, and GT and good luck figuring out anything about how each of them play just by looking at them. Two of these are generalists, two of these get stronger when someone dies, one of these is a rushdown mix up character, and one of these is a defensive powerhouse. Even if you know Dragonball, that only really clears up that the defense character is Ultra Instinct Goku. 

And for those who were wondering, SSJ and Rose are generalists, Base and GT get stronger when someone dies, and Blue is the rushdown character.

The reason I used RWBY as a comparison is because, aside from me liking and knowing both series, they’re both in Arc Sys fighting games, making this a relatively fair comparison.

Look at the RWBY characters in BlazBlue Cross Tag Battle and it’s immediately more obvious what most of these characters play as compared to the cast of Dragon Ball Fighterz. Weiss looks elegant and prim and proper so it’s far easier to guess she’s a character that needs to set up to get her fighting style going. Blake looks like a ninja so it’s no surprise when she starts using weird clones and attacks with huge but precise ranges to chip away at the enemy. And Yang is brightly colored, flashy, and has huge gauntlets so no one is surprised when she armors through attacks to beat the enemy’s face in. Ruby might be the odd man out since the Gothic Lolita aesthetic of her Beacon outfit doesn’t really scream the ‘highly mobile generalist’ that she actually plays as. Still, it’s overall easier to place these characters into roles.

I’m just saying, if I lined up a bunch of RWBY characters, I could tell you how each of them would play in a fighting game, but if you lined up Goku, Vegeta, and Gohan and asked me what each of their play style is, I wouldn’t be able to figure out how to differentiate the three of them. It’s just a funny thought that everyone thinks fighting games are the perfect fit for dragon ball but then if you wanted to come up with movesets, you’d probably draw up a huge blank because everyone punches and shoots beams for the most part and are either wearing gis, wearing armor, or is a weird alien or god or robot. The variety is shockingly little.

[kohakuarisaka]

Trial By Fire (chapter 2 of 2)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Hawks stopped by your apartment, asking for a patch up, and then asked for so much more.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Role reversal: Keigo is a villain and Touya is a hero. Liberties were taken with Hawks’ quirk and is non-canon compliant. This fic is not nice to Touya. Reader and Hawks smoke. Reader has a quirk. Reader is a female with descriptive female genitalia. This fic contains graphic sexual content, including penis in vagina sex, oral sex, spanking, dirty talk, biting, degradation, and knotting. Consensual ♥

Keigo’s appearance in this fic was inspired by this lovely art piece!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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Todoroki Touya was a prince.

Being born to a top-ranking hero was almost the same as being born to royalty. Everyone recognized his name, his quirk might as well have been trade-marked, and he had lots and lots of daddy's money.

If that wasn't enough, Touya was incredibly handsome, too. He had a full head of stunning, bright red hair and beautiful, shiny blue eyes. His smile was charming and voice was hoarse and suave.

He was a skilled fighter, always topping the rankings at UA, the talk of all 'up and coming' news articles back in his teen years. His quirk was flashy and powerful, nearly unstoppable; but, he was also a dedicated hero that trained day in and day out to hone his combat skills.

The boy with the crimson wings couldn't have the fortune of being nobody. That would have been more preferable to his reality.

His father was a criminal, a thief and a murderer. His childhood home burned to the ground when an attempted arrest went horribly wrong, and resulted in half his body being permanently scarred by burns. But, no one would believe that a hero did that to a small boy, even if it was an accident. No, of course not.

No hero academy was going to accept someone with such a reputation, with a name like Takami, with a history of bloodshed, with the evidence smeared across his skin for all to see. He was in and out of foster homes for years before he could get his own place, funded by petty crimes and gang activity, the only way he could survive.

Touya was a prince-

-and Keigo was a gutter rat.

He wasn't the least bit surprised when you told him that Touya had asked you out, even less surprised when you told him that you said yes.

Of course you couldn't resist Touya. He was everything any girl could possibly want, and he could give you a hell of a lot more than Keigo ever could: fancy dates, lavish gifts, a nice family to go home to, a name with a shining reputation.

Touya could make you happy.

And so, Keigo stopped chasing you. He stopped hoping anything more would amount to your relationship. But, even if his life depended on it, Keigo could never stop wanting you, thinking about you, loving you. No one was like you, not by a long shot. No one understood him like you did.

But, you belonged to Prince Touya.

... ..

... ..

... ..

Hawks woke in a cold sweat, torn from a nightmare. He bolted upright, eyes scanning the room, panting lightly in a daze. His bare chest glistened with the evidence of his agony and his wings flexed out, feathers taut and sharped at the ends, defensive.

He glared at the unfamiliar walls, legs tangled in warm blankets. It took him just a moment to remember where he was.

There was a photo pinned to the wall by your desk: him and you at a spring carnival during your first year of high school. Your hair was longer back then and he had a black eye from a fight with some upper classmen.

The pillows and blankets on your bed were so soft and freshly washed, the scent of the fabric softener still wafting. You had dug out extra pillows and sheets for Hawks when made it clear he was intending to come around a lot more often.

Your apartment, your bedroom, your bed: that's where he was. The only thing missing from the room was you.

Hawks pulled himself out of a bed with a groan and snagged his sweat pants off the floor, where they had been discarded when he arrived. He decided to skip the underwear and just pulled the loose fitting pants on with a tired groan.

He didn't need to search the apartment to know you weren't inside. His feathers weren't picking up any vibrations from footsteps or breathing. It was too still, too quiet.

Confident of where you were, he opened one of the windows in your bedroom, nearest your desk, and shimmied onto the outer ledge, hoisting his torso through first before bringing his legs in until he was hanging outside. He kicked off the side, beat the air once with his wings to gain some momentum and flew up to the roof.

You let out the most undignified yelp when he floated up over the side of the building, bare feet toeing the edge where he landed, giving you an innocent, drowsy look.

"Holy fuck, you scared me," you hissed at him.

It was almost 1 in the morning, and you had slipped on a loose shirt and baggy shorts to head up to the roof for a smoke. Unsurprisingly, you were alone at this hour, able to enjoy the ambiance of the night without one of your neighbors mouth breathing or trying to strike up a conversation. They weren't bad people; but, you didn't want their company.

Even from up this high, you could hear passing cars, the soft squeaking of breaks and the occasional squeal of tires spinning on asphalt. Distant lights were constantly changing: traffic control, cars coming and going, people in and out of their crowded apartments.

"You're not cold?" Hawks asked as he approached you.

"Not really," you answered softly.

Despite that, Hawks flattened against your back. His hands dragged up and down your arms as if to warm them before winding around your waist. You felt more than saw his head droop over your shoulder. As he pressed in close, you felt what was his very shirtless chest fall against your back and the unmistakable outline of his cock against your behind.

"I see you didn't bother dressing," you scolded him, lacking any real malice.

"You like it," he challenged, reaching for your cigarette.

Before he could grab it, you brought it to his lips for him, turning your head to try and face him, despite the awkward angle. You watched him puff the end faintly before huffing out smoke away from you.

"Ohh," he hummed. "You bought the fancy ones this time."

"They're not fancy," you retorted gently.

He flapped his mouth, about to insist you let him buy the next pack. However, he caught himself, remembering how well it went last time. It had resulted in a fight, and you kicked him out, nearly pushing him out the window, not that he couldn't handle that, of course, and it was a funny memory, now that it was over.

Besides, if he was being honest, it was really hot when you yelled at him. Maybe not so much this time since it put him in the doghouse for a week. But, the makeup sex was definitely worth it.

You didn't want his money; 'blood money', you had called it. You adored him, maybe even loved him, wanted him, longed for him; but, you had no desire to take any of his dirty money.

You weren't delusional enough to think that that made you a good person, or somehow morally superior, not to Hawks, or anyone else for that matter. It was a choice that you had made for yourself, to try and get your life on the right track.

Maybe, letting Hawks into your bed was counter productive. He was a wanted villain, after all. Business could follow, even if he worked hard to prevent that. If Touya found out-

You shuddered at the thought, mind racing with the possibilities of what could happen. You didn't want to see Touya ever again, let alone talk to him; but, there was no guarantee that your paths would never cross again. Would he be mad? Would he try to hurt Keigo?

Sharply, you turned your head and kissed at his cheek, lips smearing across the burnt half of his face, as if trying to reassure yourself that that wouldn't happen. Hawks hummed, and you felt the vibration travel along his chest and throat and onto your skin.

"Don't burn your fingertips," he scolded you softly in a hoarse whisper, snatching your cigarette from the burning end.

You had been so lost in thought, you failed to realize the cinders were nearing your fingers, the flame having almost reached the end. You watched Hawks roll it between his fingers, drawing the paper into his palm where he crushed it. The flame died and he opened his hand, letting the wind carry the burnt remains away.

"Kiss me," you breathed, so wrapped up in the moment that you didn't care that you were outside.

He obeyed with a growl, hands grabbing at your waist harshly to spin you around. One hand flattened at the space between your shoulder blades, holding you tightly to his chest while he arched down and captured your mouth.

You heard and felt his wings beat the air, powerful and unyielding: an intentional display of dominance, most likely, that should have made your eyes roll and not your heart flutter. But, you had always been soft for Keigo, and this advancement in your relationship had only made that worse, until you became putty in his hands.

He clearly really liked to play with putty. It was bad enough that he was constantly twisting and turning your body to see what kind of positions he could put you in: something that you, unfortunately, found far more arousing than you should have. He loved to poke and prod, see what kind of noises he could get out of you. He also loved to see how far he could push your limitations.

"Baby," Hawks growled against your mouth, eyes hungry as he took you in.

"Let's be crazy," he suggested, low and hoarse, with a slight edge that made him sound like a stupid teenager again.

He tugged you in close, shamelessly rubbing his erection against your closed abdomen, and making his intentions known.

"Hell no," you retorted, smoothly, sure, but lacking in any real confidence in your rejection.

"Come on," he urged, hands and arms sliding away so he could skirt away from you.

You watched Hawks step towards the edge of the roof with the kind of confidence you would expect from a man that could fly. He casually sat down, rotated to sit longways, one leg spread out for balance while the other rested right at the edge. He leaned back, spreading one wing out along the gravely rooftop, while the other drooped over the side, feathers long and fluttering in the breeze like a crimson, tattered flag.

Hawks crossed his arms behind his head and laid back in full, looking boneless as he stretched out. He peered up at you with a wicked grin, eyes bright as they reflected the distant street lights.

"You're fucking ridiculous," you snapped at him, realizing too late that you were smiling dumbly at the shamelessly display in front of you. Your words lacked any real weight. Rather, you sounded amused or impressed, not angry.

God damn it.

"You love it," Hawks retorted with a soft laugh.

"No," you commanded, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Come on," he urged, rolling your name off his tongue like it was a delicious, sinful delight. "It'll make for a great memory - great story. Tell all your friends you fucked some guy on the edge of the roof. No risk: you know I won't let you fall."

"I wouldn't say 'some guy', even if I had friends to tell," you said to him grumpily, settling a weak glare on the winged villain.

Hawks removed his crossed arms from behind his head, placed one hand on the roof for balance, and leaned up. His cocky expression was gone, replaced with something soft, almost nervous, like he feared he misheard you.

"You'd tell them it was me?" he asked.

"Obviously," you uttered back.

A genuine smile found its way onto Hawks' face. Maybe, he was more deceitful than you gave him credit for. Maybe he knew damn well that you couldn't resist that face, that smile that lit up your heart, those mismatched eyes. Only foolish girls let themselves believe nonsense.

Maybe, you could be foolish sometimes.

You approached Hawks and he leaned back, excitement clawing its way onto his face as he realized he was going to get what he wanted. You smacked his chest and he fell back with a rough laugh.

A slight tug pulled his pants down enough to spring his cock free, already fully hard and leaking against his abdomen. Some distant thought was that you should have been surprised; but, Hawks had proved to be quite the animal, with such a miniscule refractory period and ready to go without much persuading.

You carefully slid on top of him, one leg braced on the roof against his side, while the other dangled over the edge. The weightlessness had you reeling back with a frightened whimper. Hawks grabbed your leg and pressed it tight against his side, keeping you planted on his lap.

"I got you," he whispered soothingly. "I got you, baby. I won't let you fall."

The bastard could fly. He was used to feeling weightless, to feeling nothing beneath his feet. You were not, and the very real risk of slipping over the edge was ever present when you felt the breeze, felt the lack of something beneath your heel.

However, when you planted yourself on Hawks, who was partially dangling over the side, you felt grounded. He felt sturdy and strong beneath you, no fear in his posture, arms and legs firmly planted, wings spread out to balance himself. He wasn't waddling back and forth with uncertainty.

It barely took you a second to relax, to feel safe when his hands gripped your thighs, holding you securely against his weight. Of course he could catch you; but, you doubted he would let you fall in the first place.

Sooner or later, you were going to have to learn to tell him no; but, that didn't have to be today.

"Have you done this before?" you dared to ask.

"Not with a partner," Hawks answered quietly.

You barked out a laugh at his answer, and watched a cheeky grin appear on the villain's face.

"What? Can a guy not jack off on the roof?" he barked.

"You're fucking horrible," you chuckled, slapping at his bare chest.

"I didn't splooge over the edge," he added on.

"You're ruining the mood," you scolded him.

Still, despite those words, and the obviously fact that he had in fact not ruined anything, you reached between your legs and grabbed at the hem of your shorts. They were wide enough that you could just pull them to the side-

Hawks choked on his next breath. You glanced up at his face. His head was angled down so he could steal a look at your sex so effortlessly becoming bare.

"Fuck," he wheezed, as if he hadn't seen you naked dozens of times by now.

Bare of underwear, fabric loose enough to just shift aside, you angled your hips until his cock caught on your folds. Hawks moaned when your wet slit trailed across his length, literally dripping over him.

"-ooohh, you're wet," he hissed softly, sincerely surprised at the discovery.

"You fucked me just a few hours ago, you animal," you retorted smoothly. Your level tone contrasted sharply with the sudden whimper that escaped you when his tip hooked on your entrance.

"Heh. Made you scre-"

Ah, you loved when Hawks gave you perfect opportunities to cut him off. You shifted your hips and sank down, enveloping his length in moist heat, and Hawks' words dissolved into a weak moan. There was no ache, as you were still prepped from earlier, likely still leaking some of him, as well.

Hawks wasted no time laying a hand against your lower abdomen. His thumb dipped between your folds and flicked skillfully at your pearl. The harsh texture of his calloused fingerprint had you whimpering and twitching. His other hand gripped your waist and guided you slowly up and down his length.

"Look down," Hawks instructed, not demanding, not crude, but soft and guiding. His eyes displayed a sort of devotion and hunger that had you helpless to do much other than obey.

Your eyes directed to the ground below, over sweeping floors, dozens of windows and a couple fire escapes. This high up, the ground looked so far away, cars like pill bugs you'd see waddling along the concrete at the community garden. Something electric shot through you, catching your breath in your throat, and Hawks let out a hoarse curse, hips shuddering.

"Fuck, you got tight," he hissed.

His hand let go of your sex and lifted up to cup your face. He turned you to face him, nudging your cheek lovingly with his knuckles. Immediately, you realized, it was his burnt hand.

You turned your head to kiss at his skin, tinged red from thick scar tissue and wrinkly. Slyly, he dipped his thumb into your mouth, the same that had been dipped beneath your folds.

"Don't be scared. I got you, baby," he cooed while you sucked the digit clean.

You smiled and laughed softly, popping his thumb out of your mouth with a lewd, wet noise. "Normal people are scared of heights, pretty bird."

"You're special," he protested, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip.

That praise had your heart fluttering, and you mentally scolded yourself for acting like a school girl.

He pressed down and dipped his thumb back inside, coaxing your tongue out until it lulled over your bottom lip. Normally, you swatted his hand away when he did things like that. But, it was difficult to resist when he was looking at you like that. One gold and one milky eye took you in with a heated gaze while he gently panted through slightly parted lips.

"That's a good girl," he praised, dragging the pad of his thumb over your tongue.

You likely looked ridiculous like this, impaled on his lap with your tongue hanging out. You almost wanted to smack him and tell him to quit; but, Hawks' hand retreated before you could tell him off.

That same thumb returned to your pearl, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure. He lifted his lips a little, encouraging, the corners of his lips threatening to break into a pleased grin. You gently moved along with him, finding harmony in a steady rhythm that had pleasure sparking at your guts.

Your eyes wandered, taking in his aroused expression, exploring the plains of his muscular chest, across the burnt skin on one half of his body, to the red feathered wings that jutted out from behind him. You didn't look over the edge again; but, the sounds of the city were ever present, reminding you of where you were.

"Someone could see," Hawks suggested darkly.

You shuddered, head lulling back, and let out a weak moan. You didn't consider yourself much of a voyeurist; but, that was oddly exciting. You were covered up well enough. They wouldn't see much of you, but the act couldn't be mistaken for anything but what it was.

Hawks shifted his hand away from your pearl and grabbed at your hip, long fingers curling around the thickest part for purchase. You didn't have a chance to consider the lack of stimulation before one of his feathers replaced his thumb, twirling and flicking insistently at your nub.

You moaned again, and let yourself go partially limp, somewhat held up by your hands braced against his chest, but more so by his stronger hands holding your center. You couldn't keep up with him, letting his hands guide you up and down to his length to his liking.

"-know how good it feels," he continued, some strain in his voice as pleasure spewed in his core.

He lost balance a little and the wing drooped over the edge flapped once. It wasn't particularly strong; but, it was enough to startle a jolt and soft yelp out of you.

Your hands slipped, and you were suddenly chest to chest. Hawks bent one leg to lift you higher on his lap, shifting the angle enough to bring him deeper and amplify the pleasure. His cheek slid against your neck and his lips met your jawline.

"You want them to know what a slut you are?" he snarled, less of a question and more of a suggestion.

The sensible side of you wanted to deny it. What good could possibly come of that? The feral side of you, that Hawks so expertly brought out, disagreed. You weren't ashamed of him. You were the happiest you had been in years. He made you laugh, he made you smile, and he made you come harder than you ever thought possible.

He kissed and bit a burning hot path across your jaw, drawing some loose skin between his molars beneath your ear, before wandering across your throat. He mouthed at your pulse, and the reality that he was a wanted murderer rang loudly in your ears.

You didn't recoil of fear or disgust. You moaned, loudly, arching your back and exposing one of yourself to him. He had to resist the urge to lift your shirt and bite at your breasts. If not for your modesty, than because your poor nipples had already been quite thoroughly assaulted not too many hours ago.

His dominant hand slid up your thigh, long, thick fingers effortlessly venturing up the leg of your shorts. He curled his hand around the back and dragged the pad of his finger along your union, gathering slick and remnants of his earlier venture.

Your cloudy thoughts didn't consider what he was doing, until that finger, now wet and slippery, was suddenly circling your other hole. That had you letting out a confused gasp. He didn't press in, just traced the tight ring of muscle curiously, and took your noise positively.

Hawks knew well enough, but the mischievous glimmer in his eyes gave it away.

"Aww. Did Touya never touch you here?" he teased.

He pressed in slightly, being answered by your muscles flinching tightly, if your lewd expression didn't tell him enough. You looked confused, maybe even a little annoyed, but the arousal was still present, thick behind the glare you tried to give him.

As inviting as the heat was, he didn't venture beyond the pad of his finger, which felt like a lot more than it actually was. It didn't hurt, but it didn't feel good, either. You didn't know what to make of it, but found yourself arching into the touch, and downright mewling when he slipped out and returned to circling the ring of puckered muscle, which surprisingly did feel good.

"O-obviously, that's not-" you hissed at him.

Still, through all his teasing and adventuring touches, his hips never ceased, forcing his cock into your sopping wet cunt again and again. The wet, fleshy sounds was loud enough to drown out the bustling city beneath you.

"No more than this," Hawks promised in a hoarse whisper, hot breath fanning out over your throat.

His fingertip eased back in, met with blistering tight heat, and you let out a strange noise, confused and perhaps a little discomforted. No, that was definitely not a place you were used to being touched. But, he wandered that territory carefully, ever akin to your desires. As new as it was, there was no denying the way that touch made your skin prickle.

"You like it," he observed slyly. "Dirty girl."

It probably would have sounded more teasing if he didn't already sound so debauched, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to touch you as much as you enjoyed being touched. He had you wrapped around his finger. That much was certain. But, you weren't oblivious to the power you held over him.

"Keigo," his name slipped past your lips, breathless and dripping with lust. It wasn't really forced; but, you were intent on getting a rise out of him. "Keigo," and again. "Oh, Keigo," and again.

His teasing finger stopped and his hand shifted to grab at your meaty behind with an almost bruising grip. His pace was suddenly punishing, bouncing you in his lap almost ferociously while his hips pivoted to chase the sensation. He had you wheezing out breathless moans while he grunted and snarled beneath you.

"Close," he suddenly grunted, the word little more than a rumble in his throat.

"Yes," you agreed, deliriously high on the pleasure he pummeled into you.

It was impossible to know how he managed to hold off long enough to get you there first, or if it was specifically the tightening of your walls that got him there. You were mewling and twitching long before he howled out, and the heat of his seed burst inside you.

He was making a mess. You could feel it dripping down your thighs, sputtering out from his thrusting and leaking over his abdomen. Hawks didn't care, obviously, turning his head to kiss greedily at your mouth while his hips kept moving.

When he pulled back, you found yourself disappointed at the realization that he hadn't knotted. However, there was no way you were going to say that out loud. His ego was swollen enough already.

Careless to the mess, he lifted you off his length and helped you to your feet before adjusting his wet pants to at least clothe himself. Your combined fluids had made a mess all over the crotch of his pants, no doubt worse now that he tucked himself away. Your shorts were no better, and you could feel his seed leaking down your inner thigh.

The high wasn't quite over and Hawks was sporting an attractive red tint along his shoulders and chest, blonde locks an absolute mess. Still, at this moment, your focus was solely on getting back inside and cleaning up.

"You're the worst," you scolded him, sounding incredibly fond despite your insult. You took his arm instead of his hand and guided him back into the building.

Hawks swallowed a laugh and, together, you stomped noisily down the stairs. No one passed you by. If anyone spotted you, it went unnoticed. You hardly needed to drag Hawks, who was right on your tail. As soon as the door was opened, he pushed you inside, one arm wound possessively over your waist.

"Keigo!" you whined, flinching when his head ducked into your neck and gnawed at your skin.

"You got me riled up," he growled, pressing into you so you could feel how hard he still was. The sticky mess of his wet pants felt gross; but, you couldn't be bothered to care.

You wanted to tell him off; after all, you had done nothing, and he had done that to himself. But, you felt a tinge of discomfort at your core, aching and eager to be filled again. Your clit throbbed between your thighs, eager for more contact.

Hawks manhandled you onto the nearby wall, taking you by the elbows to plant your hands on the smooth surface. You didn't hesitate to make your consent known, arching your back and propping up on your toes as he roughly dragged your shorts down.

The fabric pooled at your feet, leaving your oozing sex presented to him. Your felt and heard his wings flap, so widely that they smacked against the walls in the small space. Knowing full well what he was doing, the sudden intrusion wasn't quite as surprising; but, still, he managed to force a startled moan out of you.

"Fuck," he snarled, forehead falling against your upper back.

His dominant hand reached around, circling your pearl as he found a steady rhythm. His seed from earlier oozed out, and it was equally disgusting as it was amazing. His free hand gripped your hips, holding you still so he could use you to his liking.

It felt amazing, and each shift of his hips punched a broken moan out of you. It didn't take long for you to feel it, the swell at the base of his cock, catching on your entrance, slowly working you open to take his growing knot.

"You want that, don't you?" he uttered harshly, tilting his head up to breathe the words into the space right above your ear.

Even though it was unnecessary, he made his point clear by shoving it all in, as deep as he could, and grinding, rolling his hips to let you feel the swell at the base.

You removed one hand from the wall, curved your arm back and reached blindly, skillfully finding his hair. Your fingers grabbed a fistful, rough but not enough to hurt him. Hawks snarled when you tugged him in, nails gently biting into his skull.

"You better," you whispered, demanding and hoarse, and apparently delicious enough that he had to stop his thrusts and tilt his head in for a kiss.

Suddenly, the closeness was everywhere, back to chest, thigh to thigh. You tilted your head back to make it easier to reach, and let Hawks kiss his way into your mouth possessively, first with soft lips before his tongue edged the soft skin apart. He dragged along your teeth before trailing your palate like he was tasting something divine.

Eventually, he was satisfied, parting from your lips with a loud pop, licking his own lips as if he had just enjoyed a delicious meal. He carefully peeled back, cock slipping free from your heat, hands letting go when he was confident you wouldn't fall.

An open palm collided with your behind, and the sound echoed around the apartment, drowning out your surprised squick.

"Get on the fucking bed," he all but snarled, the words clawing out through gritted teeth.

Your legs, steadier than you expected, carried you to the bedroom. Hawks, however, tackled you onto the mattress before you could make it, forcing you onto your back with his weight.

He chuckled into your skin and you squealed with laughter. Despite the impact, he was surprisingly gentle, mindful of his strength. Crimson wings flapped, nearly smacking into the ceiling. You briefly feared that he would get hurt on the ceiling fan, but immediately determined that he would be more likely to break it than be injured by it.

He peeled your shirt off, leaving you nude beneath him.

"I've made you such a slut for knots, hm?" he observed, leaning up on his knees to hover over you, and give you quite the view.

His cock was an angry shade of red, thick and heavy where it hung between his legs, almost tinted purple on the tip with the need for release. He had just a moment ago, and it made you wonder if the lack of knotting left him unsatisfied.

The beginning swells of his knot was an enticing girth right at the base, stretching the velvety skin of his shaft, and also tinted a dark shade of red. He was glistening all over, the tip oozing pre as if he hadn't come just a moment ago.

"-and I've made you a slut for me," you teased back, carefully placing your legs on either side of his waist.

He skillfully slipped into you with a pleased snarl, body slotting over yours carefully. He might not have been a giant, but Hawks was still bigger than you, enough to shadow you and leave you feeling small. He rolled his hips slowly, giving you a taste of that swelling before he began a steady rhythm.

Noises punched out of you, whimpers and moans and broken sounds that were almost his name. He balanced on his forearms, one on either side of your head to cage you in, while his legs planted on the bed and his tense abs did most of the work.

"So fucking good. Gnhnn - I don't deserve you," he babbled, uttering the words harshly into the space above your ear, tickling at your hair. "Beautiful and f-fucking perfect."

Hawks was a talker with almost no exception; but, still, despite having heard it all many times, he still managed to get a rise out of you, sweet nothings that made your heart flutter and skin prickle.

"Say you're mine," he demanded, tilting his head down to gnaw gently at your throat.

You swallowed, managing to catch your breath long enough to utter weakly, "'m yours, Keigo."

He lifted his head and dragged his forehead along your temple, huffing out dramatic breaths with each thrust of his hips. A bit more experienced now, you knew when he was close, when the catch became almost too much, the fullness dizzying and almost frightening. Your eyes fluttered open long enough to see his lustful stare, admiring the beauty of pleasure etched across your face.

You dragged your nails down his back, crying in ecstasy when the sparks ignited and pleasure soared through your core. Hawks' dominant hand roughly grabbed a fistful of the sheets, a frustrated grunt bursting from his throat before he roared, likely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

His thrusting ceased, less he timed it incorrectly and missed this. You made a very distinct noise at the intrusion, the same sound every single time, and it echoed so loudly in his mind. He felt overwhelmed with pride, that he could make you make a sound like that, so utterly debauched and in beautiful ecstasy.

Hawks' own moans, that came out of him like a chuffing tiger, were drowned out by your delicious whimpering. If the fullness wasn't enough, his cock jerked and spurted thick, hot streams of his seed. You could feel each twitch, until he shifted forward, as deep as he possibly could go, and finally stopped.

The muscles of his knot tightened as they finished expanding, locking your cores together. Hawks' head dropped and smacked onto the sheets by your ear. You tilted your head back, nose pointed towards the ceiling as you panted, and felt his rough, staggered breath as it burned your throat.

You felt more than heard the rumbling of his chest where it pressed down on yours. It was unmistakable: the sounds of a satiated beast. The thought had you stuttering out a breathless laugh.

Hawks' nose nudged your cheek and he hummed questioningly.

"You're purring," you answered softly.

"Oh," he answered bluntly.

Luckily, he didn't try to stop it; or, he was consciously unaware of it. Either way, you hoped he wouldn't stop. You loved the sensation of being trapped with him, impossibly close and stuffed like a used sex toy. Just as much, you loved knowing that he was pleased. Shameful as it all was, he had a way of making you feel shameless.

"Baby," he cooed, voice soft and breathless, a little hoarse, like a dying engine. "Are you okay?"

Your arms and legs were still around him, clinging tight like you didn't want to let go. You were strung out and limp, sinking into the sheets, head lulled back and clearly, very pleased. Still, Hawks kissed at your jaw like he was uncertain.

"Are you okay, pretty bird?" you repeated back to him, turning your head to meet his lips with your own.

He kissed you back as opposed to answering, the soft rumbling continuing until you felt it in your own throat. One of his hands tangled in your hair, kneading gently at your skull. Eventually, he peeled back and stared down at you, mismatched eyes unwavering, like you were a specter that would disappear if he glanced away.

He was the one who would be gone in the morning, leaving only an ache in your tummy to remind you that he was here.

But, you knew he would come back.

[lo-55]

Beyond Dreams of Avarice Ch. 3

The first time Kisuke meets him, he’s barely a hundred years old, and Ichigo is a stranger with an ocean of power with two blades to his name. Which does not explain why he looks at Kisuke with a heart broken fondness, or why he always seems to return.

UraIchi Time Travel with a mild twist.

Yoruichi is napping in the courtyard, curled up in a patch of sun and covered in fine black fur. Kukaku sits beside her, her gaze on the sky while Ganju insistently commands Tessai to show him more and more elaborate (not dangerous, just colorful and flashy) kido. 

It’s as picturesque as their lives ever get, and Kisuke wants to enjoy the moment he had with his lady and his new work-mate. Tessai is new-ish. He’s from one of the small clans that belong to the Shihoin, and he’s been with Yoruichi for almost as long as Kisuke has, although it was never in any official capacity. No more official than her relationship with Kukaku. 

Now, he’s officially a shinigami, fresh out of the academy and on his way to the kido corps. 

Everyone is off in their own worlds, in the summer sun and the lazy heat that beats down from the sky. The Shiba’s sand garden has a few new stones, he notes idly, and when Kaien comes in from outside Kisuke is the only one who’s really paying attention. 

He’s watching over them, watching over Yoruichi, just like he always has and will. 

Kaien catches his eye and waves at him. 

Kisuke would like to believe he’s a difficult person to read, that he’s gotten enough practice in over the years to be incredible, but something on his face must show because Kaien comes over and sits beside him. Miyako is nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey, you’re Yoruichi’s little shadow,” he says, and Kisuke can only smile a little sheepishly in response. 

“That’s me, yes. Urahara Kisuke, pleased to meet you,” he rises to bow properly to the noble, but Kaien waves him off. Kisuke settles back down on the engawa. Kaien sits beside him, cross legged. 

“Come on, I get enough bowing already, and Yoruichi is basically my sister so-” Kaien shrugs, “You looked like you wanted to say something.” 

Kisuke is briefly horrified. Had he been read so easily? Was he always so easy to read? He was supposed to be a spy! 

Kaien laughs at him, and he sounds exactly like Ichigo. 

“It’s only because I grew up with Yoruichi trying to weasel out of trouble. Relax.” 

Kisuke does his best to obey. He wasn’t going to be so blunt, he’s used to circling problems and finding clever openings that no one else with notice, and drawing information out of people who don’t realize they’re giving it. Being blunt is- 

It feels unnatural these days. 

“What do Shiba do with bastards?” 

Whatever Kaien thought he was going to ask, that’s clearly not it.  

Kaien sits straighter. 

“Why?” 

Kisuke presses his lips together. It tastes like a betrayal, the words sitting on his tongue. 

Kaien crosses his arms over his chest. “The Shiba are very family oriented, everyone knows it. It would depend on the circumstances, but at the very least we’d do our best to support them and their parents. Again, why?” 

Betrayal tastes like citrus pith. 

“I may have found one, but he’s a man grown already.” 

“Eh? Where is he? Where did you find him?” 

“I don’t know. We met in the rukongai.” 

“And you didn’t bring him here?!” Kaien looks physically betrayed. 

Kisuke gives him his most innocent smile. 

(The one that Yoruichi says makes her skin crawl, the one that makes his subordinates turn away from him quickly, knowing a storm is on the horizon, the one that the Shihoin Elders would very much like to smack right off his face.) 

“Forgive me, my lord, I don’t recall working for you,” he says as formally and sweetly at he can. 

Kaien, for his part, looks annoyed. It's the same expression Kisuke has seen on Ichigo. They’re nearly identical, and it’s almost terrifying. 

“No wonder Yoruichi likes you. You’re just her kind of asshole.” 

Kisuke isn’t about to deny that. 

“Anyways,” Kaien waves his fake innocence away, “If this guy is a Shiba then he’s one of our clansmen, and I’d like to meet him. He’s my family and my responsibility, after all.” 

Kisuke had probably known that Kaien would say something like that. It didn’t surprise him even a little bit that that was his reaction to the possibility of having more relatives out there. As he’d said, everyone knew that the Shiba were very family oriented and they would never leave one of their own out in the cold. 

Even if that person was a bastard who refused to accept their surname. 

“I don’t think he’ll agree with you, but if I see him again,” When he sees him again, because Ichigo promised, “I’ll tell him you’re interested in a meeting.” 

Kaien squints at him, his mouth pursed like Kisuke had shoved a lemon into it to shut him up like he’d seen Kukaku do before. 

“That’s probably the best I’m going to get out of you, isn’t it? Geez, why is everyone so stubborn?” 

Kisuke just arches a brow and Kaien scowls at him. They both know he’s an utter hypocrit to be saying that.

~ 

Kisuke has to slip Kaien after that more than once. He seems certain that Kisuke is going to one day lead him to this long lost kinsmen, and Kisuke almost regrets asking him the question in the first place. 

Except he knows this now for certain; Ichigo has a place amongst the Shiba even if he doesn’t want it. 

He’s never seen Ichigo with anyone else, besides the hollow hound that seemed perfectly content to simply trot beside him and never even bared his teeth at souls that would offer it nurishment. He has no idea if Ichigo has other friends (If Kisuke could call himself a friend) or where he spends all of his time when he’s not dragging Kisuke out of hostile territory. 

No one bats an eye when Kisuke starts checking the service records for all of the shinigami who had served in the past four hundred years. Mostly because no one notices that he’s there at all. 

There’s no way Ichigo is older than that, Kisuke doesn’t think. Although he knows that the more powerful the shinigami the slower they tend to age past a certain point. 

He searches through the rosters for each squad in order, seeking any mention of Kurosaki Ichigo. That turns up nothing, so he switches it to Shiba Ichigo, just in case. 

Oh, there’s a couple hundred Ichigo’s, most of them women, but no Kurosaki or Shiba has ever carried the name. 

When that turns up nothing he looks for his Zanpakutou. Ichigo could change his name, but not his weapon’s. 

Split the sky and rage through heaven, pierce the earth and slay hell. Protect thy heart, Zangetsu. 

 Zangetsu. Two swords, with one name, and a duel zanpakuto was more than a little distinct. Kisuke had only ever seen two shinigami with such a thing, and they were both captains. 

Still nothing. 

There was no record of Ichigo ever existing. 

And the only reason for a shinigami to have no record at all would be if they had been erased from history. And Kisuke, lucky man that he was, was a member of the squad in charge of just such people. If Yoruichi was to be believed he would soon be in charge of the detention division too. 

So, with the impunity that came of being close to the Clan Head, and the Commander-in-Chief, he went seaking through their files too. There were no names, but descriptions and records of reitsu, and abilities and goals. 

None of them fit the right criteria. 

Not a single one. 

Ichigo is a veritable ghost in the afterlife. 

~ ~ 

“Who are you really?” 

Is what he wants to ask Ichigo when he sees him next. It’s in the secret training grounds again, months after their last encounter and Kisuke is a few days shy of his biggest promotion. 

Who are you really? Where do you come from? How do you open Garganta when only hollows should be able to do so so easily? 

(How thin really is the line between hollows and shinigami, he wonders in the darkness of the night, in the recesses of his mind, where the world exists as a pattern on a loom and he longs to pull it apart thread by careful, bloody thread)

But Ichigo looks upset. Not furious, he’s not red faced or swinging his sword like he intends to decapitate anyone around him. It’s not the quiet, stalking anger of Yoruichi, either. 

There’s a furrow in hisb row, his brown eyes are darker than Kisuke’s ever seen them and his scowl is less habitual and more genuine that it’s ever been. 

It draws Kisuke up short. 

The words die on his tongue. 

Instead, he asks, “What happened?” 

Ichigo looks at him, and the furrow eases, ever so slightly. His shoulders slump. He looks so much younger than Kisuke has ever seen him. 

“People suck and hollows are assholes,” Ichigo says succinctly, and Kisuke can’t exactly disagree with that. 

Kisuke touches Benihime’s handle. “Wanna fight?” 

Ichigo draws his swords and shoots Kisuke a fond look. The scowl doesn’t vanish, but his dark eyes soften minutely. 

“You always know what to say.” It comes out teasing, but Kisuke feels his skin warm all the same. Benihime feels distinctly like she’s laughing at him under his hand. Isn’t she supposed to be part of his soul? Rude. 

Kisuke draws his sword, awakens the crimson energy that flows viciously around his body, and flings the energy at Ichigo in a mockery of Ichigo’s own technique. 

Ichigo is flawless when he blocks it, and vicious when he strikes back, his release chant on his lips. Zangetsu twists with red-black shadows, and the feeling of winter sunlight brushes Kisuke’s skin. 

They come together, a swirl of power and shadow and steel. Benihime sings in Kisuke’s grasp. Ichigo is still stronger than him, but each day Kisuke is growing closer and closer to him. 

By the time they’ve both worked off their energy Ichigo is flushed and the weight on his shoulders has eased. They clean up together, quiet in their own minds but close. Close enough to touch, if Kisuke wanted. No one comes that close besides Yoruichi. He is dangerous, and those who don’t think he’s dangerous think he’s still half feral, even half a hundred years into serving the Shihion. 

“Do you want to go to lunch?” Kisuke asks suddenly. 

Ichigo cocks his head. “Lunch sounds good, actually. I don’t know when the last time I ate is,” his smile is sheepish. 

Kisuke gives him a frown that Yoruichi would call fussy. 

“Come on then,” Kisuke leads the way out of the hideout. There’s a dozen bolt holes, if not more, and the path they take through the long tunnels drops them in one of the first few districts in the west. They duck into a restaurant that isn’t typically frequented by shinigami, and while they stand out, him in his shihakusho and Ichigo still in a plain yukata, they’re close enough to seireitei that is won’t make much of a difference to the staff. They won’t garner to much unwanted attention, and Kisuke can ignore the prickly feeling of stares on the back of his neck for a couple of hours of Ichigo’s time. 

“Where do you go, when you’re not here?” Kisuke asks once they’ve been served. A small flash of kidou seals them off from eavesdropping. 

Ichigo must trust him enough to keep his secrets. 

“Mostly Hueco Mundo.” 

Kisuke can’t hide his horror. “Why?” 

Ichigo laughs at him, but there’s an edge of bitterness to it that Kisuke hates. 

“Because that’s where I belong.” 

He touches the hilt of his zanpakutou, and Kisuke feels faintly ill. 

All shinigami fight hollows, yes, but for Ichigo to spend most of his life doing it? Alone? 

There was something horribly wrong with that. 

“You could-” 

Kisuke bites back the offer he’d almost made. There was no way he could offer Ichigo a place amongst the onmitsukido. Ichigo was not made for that kind of darkness, and he got the sense that he wouldn't take kindly to orders. 

Ichigo shoots him a half quirked smile. 

“Thanks, but I’m fine. Really. You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” 

A traitorous part of Kisuke’s mind whispers that just because Ichigo can, doesn’t mean he should. 

Kisuke looked down at Benihime. He needed to get stronger faster. He wanted to- 

He wanted to do a hundred things. 

Chief amongst them, he wanted to be able to stand at Ichigo’s side as an equal. 

~ ~ ~

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Suicide Squad Team A

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS! Seriously, as soon as you click that read more, you’re gonna be smacked with SPOILERS! Don’t say I didn’t give you ample warning this time!)

The world’s in danger yet again, and Amanda Waller is in need of some expendable forces to take on some dirty jobs in the name of preserving peace. Last time she did this, it seems like she hired the wrong people. Nice guy Will Smith Deadshot? Bland, boring Killer Croc? El Diablo, who became attached to a bunch of reprobates after spending a couple hours with them? The only one who was useful in that squad was Katana. She had their backs, could cut all of them in half with one sword stroke just like mowing the lawn, and her sword traps the souls of its victims. Unfortunately, she was decidedly not expendable, so what is a girlboss like Waller to do?

Easy: Assemble a brand new squad of criminals to do the dirty work. Harley and Boomerang are the only ones she brought back, because let’s be real, they’re the only ones we give a damn about. Filling out the rest of the squad are the stoic, craggy crackshot Savant; the handsome, German spear-thrower Javelin; the alien warrior Mongal; the frothing, psychotic animal Weasel; the confident and all-powerful TDK; and Blackguard, who is literally just a guy. Together, this team gets deployed to Corto Maltese to do what no one else can do, and with skills like theirs, they are absolutely unstoppable!

They all fucking die before the opening credits.

Motivation/Goals: Considering the goal of the squad is to shave time off their prison sentences by going on the mission, it’s ostensibly the reason every single one of these goons accepted the job. Savant and Weasel are pretty well established in this regard; we get to focus on Savant for much of the opening, so we can get a sense of him, and Weasel is stated to have murdered no less than 27 children. So, yeah, they need to do this mission.

The rest, though? Who knows! Why are Mongal, Javelin, and TDK in prison? How did they even get an alien like Mongal? What did they do to land in the position they’d need to go on a suicide mission? Why doesn’t this movie have flashy, intrusive cards explaining everything to us in a throwaway gag in a montage?!

Blackguard, at least, has some other motivation. He sold out the entire squad to the military of Corto Maltese, which is why they’re ambushed. Now, there’s actually some ambiguity here: Did he do this of his own volition, and was this a complete surprise, or is it, as it is heavily implied, all part of Waller’s plan and she let this happen as a diversion for the other team to get in unnoticed?

Honestly, though, it doesn’t matter what their goals are. They’re all dead within five minutes of the movie starting, with one exception.

Performance: So, the reason these guys are even worth talking about is because, despite their minuscule screentime, all of their actors manage to cram in enough humor and characterization that they’re all pretty fun and likable. Michael Rooker is as stony and stoic as ever as Savant (until he hilariously isn’t), Flula Borg’s Javelin is really sweet and charming in his interactions with Harley, and Pete Davidson’s Blackguard is just amazingly douchey and pathetic. Special mention goes to Nathan Fillion’s TDK, who has an utterly endearing and unwavering faith in his astoundingly crappy ability to… detach his arms. It’s honestly kind of beautiful. Then there’s Weasel as portrayed by Sean Gunn, who is just a hilarious crackhead of an animal man.

Final Fate: Literally every single one of them die horribly thanks to Blackguard’s betrayal. He’s the first to go, because as soon as he walks out saying “Hey guys, it’s me, the one who contacted you!” he literally has his face blasted clean off. The rest go soon after. Mongal, in one of the most astounding moments of idiocy I’ve ever seen, leaps on a helicopter despite Rick Flag telling her specifically not to. Her weight and strength send it careening out of control, which leads to it shredding Captain Boomerang to bits before exploding, burning her alive as she painfully screams and writhes in agony. TDK gets his arms shot into Swiss cheese, leading to him bleeding out since even detached they still are part of him. Javelin is also shot, but gets a dying moment with Harley where he passes her Checkov’s Javelin. Finally, after witnessing all of this carnage, Savant completely loses his shit and tries to swim away, leading to Waller blowing his head up.

You may be wondering what happened to Weasel. He appears to drown as soon as the Squad deploys, because despite being actually smart in this movie, Waller forgot to make sure everyone on the Squad could swim. Thankfully, this lovable child-murdering crackhead rodent was just sleeping, and wakes up in the first credit scene.

Best Scene: Obviously, it’s their one and only scene. It’s a magnificent slaughter that puts the X-Force scene from Deadpool 2 to shame.

Final Thoughts & Score: I’ve gotta hand it to James Gunn. Even though these losers are only onscreen for a few minutes, they all get to cram a lot of charm and personality into that time, to the point it’s actually kind of sad seeing them all die. It’s a beautiful mix of comedy and tragedy. Since their screentime is so limited, though, I’m mostly going to be grading them on style, performance, and so on rather than on villainy like normal. They are all bad guys, as they don’t really get a chance to redeem themselves like the other Squad, so I’m still counting them as villains, which means they could potentially score above an 8 (which is the highest score I’m willing to give heel-face turn villains, because they end up being better as characters in general than as villains).

I’m also not going to talk about Boomerang (I’ll talk about him when I review the original Squad) or Harley (because she not only lives, but deserves her own solo Psycho Analysis). Now here we go, from best to worst:

TDK

If you thought anyone but TDK would get top marks, you’re sadly mistaken. Seeing Nathan Fillion proudly wield the insanely lame power to detach his arms to lightly tap soldiers on the head and gently grab their guns is a sight I never knew I needed to see until this movie. The fact he just seems so darn proud about this power that he doesn’t even bother to use in any way that would be remotely useful is honestly really endearing. Frankly, the sheer fact they adapted Arms-Fall-Off Boy in any way is enough for me to give him a 10/10.

Weasel

Weasel is just disgustingly delightful. He’s just a horrible, nasty, ugly little bastard… But he’s kind of adorable? He clearly has no idea where he is at any given time and is just so goddamn freaky that I can’t help but love him. The fact that, despite being a character who in the comics is noteworthy only for dying on his first mission with the Squad, he manages to survive the entire movie is pretty impressive. Hopefully he comes back in the future, but either way he gets an 8/10 from me.

Javelin

Honestly, aside from Boomerang, his death stung the most. He’s just so cute and charming, and he doesn’t even get to fling his javelin at anyone! Thankfully, he passes it on to Harley, and boy does she ever get to use it! He’s so cute, I have to give him an 8/10. I just wish we got more of him.

Savant

Savant is just an absolutely hilarious bait-and-switch. We follow him through the prologue, with everything seeming to point to him as our main character and the Squad leader. He’s stoic, he’s cranky, and he has impeccable aim… and then we get to the beach and he just freaks the hell out and starts screaming and crying and running away like a little bitch. Seeing Michael Rooker act like he’s shitting his pants after playing a badass like Yondu is just the sort of hilarious subversiveness that James Gunn loves to do when you let him loose. The fact that he looks like, to paraphrase the TVTropes YMMV page for the movie, a “cyberpunk Tommy Wiseau” is the icing on this 7/10 cake.

Blackguard

I was prepared to hate this guy just based on how lame Pete Davidson’s costume was, and you know what? I do hate him. But I love to hate him. He’s just an utterly pathetic scoundrel and a coward, true to his name. The fact he is the first to die, as just about everyone predicted, and is killed absolutely gruesomely makes any annoyance he could provide moot, and his freeakout over being seated next to Weasel on the plane is actually kind of funny. I was originally going to give him a 6, but you know what? He can have a low 7/10. He’s like the only member of this particular Squad to actually do anything evil, so I gotta give him props for that.

Mongal

Let me make this perfectly clear: I do not blame James Gunn or actress Mayling Ng. I’m not actually mad at either of them for what they chose to do, because it is ultimately hilarious and sad. It suited the narrative of the film, and I’m not actually, genuinely mad.

With all that out of the way, Mongal is one hell of a stupid cunt. It is one thing to cause your own death with your stupidity, it is something else entirely to cause the death of a beloved character with your poorly planned attack. The fact she didn’t take into account how her weight and strength would effect an airborne helicopter makes one wonder if she is really supposed to be based on a character who can take on Superman and live to tell about it.

Let’s compare her to two similar characters to really show how bad she is. Like Blackguard, she is directly responsible for a death on the beach, Blackguard being responsible for everyone by selling them out and leading them into an ambush (and yes, I’m including him as well), and Mongal killing Boomerang with the chopper. The difference is, Blackguard’s betrayal was deliberate, he meant to sell the team out, he was actively doing something evil there, while Mongal killed Boomerang out of sheer idiocy.

Now, let’s compare her to Zeitgeist from the similar bloody massacre that occurred during X-Force’s deployment in Deadpool 2. Like Mongal, he accidentally kills a teammate. The difference is, in the case of Zeitgeist, he only accidentally melted Peter, it was a freak accident, and ultimately it does get undone by the end. Meanwhile, Mongal made a conscious, stupid decision and ended up killing her squadmate with her own idiocy. She sucks, hardcore. I don’t do this lightly, but I’m giving her a 1/10. Villains just don’t get much stupider than her.

I will giver her this, though: the makeup work on her is good. She’s lowkey kinda hot if I’m being honest. But being hot and having good makeup does not a good villain make.