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haleigh-sloth · 4 years ago

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Hi 🙋‍♀️ my friend thinks that Dabi is going to be put down(killed) and Endeavor will be the one who’s going to do it as an act of atone. I told her that it was a horrific take because that would be a horrible way to atone and two your essentially saying that Endeavor should re-kill the son he failed and basically killed by his actions of neglect/abuse as a parent which would not be a good path to take! I also stated that three villains are being set up to be saved. She still doesn’t believe me, and asked if I could get a better perspective. So I’m here begging 🙏🏻 🥺 for your input please? Your definitely a lot more perspective and have a better eye than I!

Hey! So I’m going to answer everything, but first ask your friend to provide evidence of this, and to also explain how any of that would be even remotely acceptable to portray in a story that is aimed toward a very large, young, impressionable audience, in which a portion has undoubtedly experienced abuse in their own lives. How would those people feel reading that? What kind of message does that send? Horikoshi isn’t like a writing genius or anything, but he is not THAT incompetent. I mean...do give him credit where it’s due. He’s been building up their redemptions for a long time and he’s already established that as the next narrative challenge for Shouto, Ochaco, and Midoriya. I’m not going to say anything about your friend’s way of thinking because I can’t tell by the way your ask is worded if she believes that’s how it SHOULD go (which is....not good) or if she just has no faith in the writing (which is understandable but I’m gonna try to relieve some of those anxieties). In order to remain polite and civil I’m gonna go with the ladder and assume she just has no faith in Horikoshi, which is understandable, but not necessary! I hope you’re comfortable because this is probably going to be longer than I am anticipating, but oh well.

Anyway, I’ll start with establishing what is deemed acceptable in the world of BNHA as far as killing goes.

*clears throat* It’s not fucking acceptable. Never was, never will be.

Look, please pinpoint to me where a pro-hero in the story has killed a villain and it was viewed as acceptable. And before you point at Hawks, I’m going to direct you here, here, and here. And there are so so SO many more posts I could find and link you to that explain my point further on that matter, but I won’t do that unless it’s asked of me. Regardless, Hawks murdering Twice was not acceptable, it was not portrayed as such, it was not viewed as such by the characters within the story. Therefore, it was not acceptable. And I’m fairly certain Hawks has a really rough road ahead of him because of his terrible choice, so prepare yourself for that. But where was I? Oh yeah, establishing whether or not it’s acceptable to kill:

I mean there are more, but I don’t have all the time in the world. Tell her to read the story from the beginning and pay attention to what the story is telling its readers ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, we’ve established that heroes in BNHA do NOT kill. That is not what being a hero means in THIS story. Now, what else is something important in BNHA that has repeatedly gotten focus?

Family.

To me personally, the most important callout to the importance of protecting your family is here:

He’s calling out all heroes, but he’s saying this in front of Endeavor. Important. Note that. There’s an entire subplot dedicated to the importance of portraying that putting your family first is the utmost responsibility of a parent. Outside of that subplot, we are shown the very dire consequences of what happens when parents abandon and reject their children.

Exhibit A: Toga

Exhibit B: Toya, or Dabi

Exhibit C: Tenko, or Tomura

These adults are the result of parents who failed their families.

Look, regardless of what people want to say the story is about: whether it’s about heroes vs. villains (it’s not), or about Midoriya graduating UA and becoming the number 1 hero (it’s not), or about Midoriya mastering his quirk (it’s not), there is no denying that BNHA is about heroes SAVING others and parents protecting their FAMILY.

Horikoshi made it a point to establish a clear difference between the adults and the children in BNHA. He also made a point to show ALL THREE VILLAINS’ origin stories and showed us that all it took was ONE BAD DAY when they were CHILDREN. There is literally a chapter titled “All it takes is one bad day” specifically to drill this into your head. Toga’s life went downhill after attacking that boy in middle school from suppressing her biological nature for so long. Toya’s life went downhill when his flames nearly killed him. Tenko’s life went downhill when his quirk activated and killed his whole family. All it took was one bad day in these children’s lives to completely ruin their futures and take any and every chance away from them at a normal life.

So with the strong focus on heroes saving people and parents failing their children, why why WHY would it ever be acceptable for Enji to KILL his SON? That not only repeats the first mistake made (Toya’s death), but also negates ALL of the narrative focuses of the entire story. I just...that’s a very very deep disconnect that I can’t force closed unless your friend chooses to look deeper than surface level reading. And it’s not just BNHA that has narrative themes and focuses throughout the story. That’s ANY story you read. Well, any good story at least. I’m not a writer by any means but even I know the basic rules of story telling:

Leave a message for your readers. Give your story a goal.

Otherwise it’s just words and pictures on paper that don’t mean anything.

So I gave you the basics of what BNHA is about, now I’ll give the specific moments that directly tell you that Toya, Toga, and Tomura are going to be saved and redeemed.

Toya:

Toga:

Tomura:

Now....does your friend really think these panels up here just mean nothing? Because that’s not how manga works. The panels have meaning, especially the ones given the most attention to drawing detail, the ones given the most space on a page. All of these were given their own big moments in their respective chapters. Toga is going to be saved by Ochaco, Toya is going to be saved by his baby brother, and Shigaraki is going to be saved by our main character Midoriya. It’s clear as day right there.

Now I want to take it back to the Todoroki family for just a bit once more. Their entire subplot revolves around reunification. That has been the established endgame since Shouto’s origin chapters. And honestly? You don’t even have to be smart to figure this out. Like when you see Rei in the hospital, you already assume that she’s going to get out and come home at some point within the story, making the family whole again. THEN you learn about Toya and you learn that he’s ALIVE after ten years of being presumed dead. You really think HE isn’t going to be brought home just like his mother was??? Fam, that is the established goal of the Todoroki Family Subplot. There is no denying this, it is there in the text, and it is not even a little bit subtle. Horikoshi is not subtle. At all. With anything. Ever.

However, no matter how much textual evidence we are given, there are still people living in denial because it’s either A. Not the direction they want, or B. They really just aren’t grasping the writing. Either way, the redemption set ups are there, whether they like it or not. At this point I’m convinced that the only way to shut villain-haters down is to wait til the last chapter has come out and the villains are fine, Toya is reunited with his family, Toga is alive and well and finds community with the other kids (at least that’s what I predict), and Shigaraki is alive and well and surrounded by people who care about him, a family if you will. Other than just waiting for that moment, idk what else it’s gonna take for the bad takes to stop.

Now here’s my reality check disclaimer:

Horikoshi could screw us all and just kill the villains off. But that would be bad writing and also ruin the ENTIRE STORY. And believe me I will bitch and bitch until I am six feet under and I will continue to bitch about it in whatever afterlife awaits me. But seriously..he won’t do that. Not to mention I have a million other reasons somewhat unrelated to the writing but more so to Horikoshi himself as to why I believe with all of my being that the three villains are going to get a happy ending, but that’s a different discussion for a different time. This post is already long as shit.

I hope your friend will look a little deeper at the story so she can enjoy it for what it is. The story has flaws, the Todoroki subplot is definitely a MESS right now because of the focus on Endeavor 🤢, but I believe it will clean itself up and be great in the end. The redemption arcs of the villains are the most interesting thing about BNHA and I know I speak for a lot of others and not just myself when I say this but, the villains are the only reason a LOT of people are still even invested in the story to begin with. If it weren’t for them? We’d all be ghost. So, do with that what you will. I hope this helps ease your anxieties a little bit and helps your friend understand what to pay attention to in the writing.

#LONG ASS POST #SORRY #bnha #bnha meta #bnha asks #boku no hero academia #todoroki touya #todoroki shouto #todoroki enji #todoroki rei #todofam #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki redemption #shimura tenko #toga himiko #league of villains #bnha league of villains #bnha lov #anonymous

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dongboner2999 · 5 years ago

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Strangers ch. 37

You finally bite back– and walk in on Yoongi.

Pairing: Yoongi x (female) Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Genre: fluff, angst

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

You shrug on your coat, beyond relieved to be able to wear your layers again. Commercial filming is done for the day– you only have to show up tomorrow morning and hopefully be done in a few hours. God, you were cold, so cold, and tense. Your phobia has been messing with your head and keeping you on edge, and you’re so fucking angry that you’ve let yourself become weak. You’re a liar; you’ve always managed to bullshit your way around weaknesses. Letting a fear so illogical disrupt your life? You hate it. It’s pathetic.

Your phone buzzes as you wait inside the studio for Lisa to pick you up, and you check it– it might be Yoongi, and you could use a mood booster.

@captainkookie21: lol @yourname is such a royal bitch, amirite??

Ah, yes. Of course. Of course, why would it be Yoongi, when you’ve got such merciless hatred to keep you constant company? Why would it ever be Yoongi? You’re just friends, it’s not like he cares– why should he care? You’re typing before you realize it; you’re sick of taking all this shit.

@yourname: @captainkookie21 royal is right sweetie I’m such a queen <3 glad u at least know my name tho since I sure don’t know yours ;)

You send the tweet and shove your phone in your purse. The anger inside you has been temporarily assuaged, but you can still feel it bubbling beneath your skin. You’re pathetic, you’re weak, you’re a liar, and everyone hates you. You’ve spent so long in despair– god, when will you ever just get a break? Why can’t something just go right?

Your phone rings, and the caller ID tells you it’s your best friend.

“Lisa? Are you outside?”

“Hey girl! Sorry, I’m calling to tell you I can’t make it– an assignment I forgot about came up in class and I gotta pull an all-nighter to get it finished. I’m really sorry! Call a car back to yours, okay? Love you, mwah!”

You grit your teeth and sigh. You need to go home and watch YouTube until your eyes bleed. Usually when you needed cheering up you’d watch BTS crack videos or Run episodes, but even that seems wrong now that you know them for real.

Whatever. You take an Uber home and fall onto your bed. Maybe you’ll actually fall asleep early for once once.

~~~

@kceleb-updates: NEW! #MoonOverTheSea’s @yourname was criticized for replying to a Netizen anti’s tweet! Y/n’s had lots of controversy since becoming @BTS_twt’s #SUGA’s girlfriend. Stay tuned!

Hoseok sits back with a sigh. “She really can’t go a day without sparking some argument or another.”

“It’s not her fault,” Yoongi growls, scribbling rapidly in a beat-up notebook.

“She could’ve left well enough alone. After dealing with those haters for so long, I thought she knew that by now.”

“It’s only gotten worse since they made us pretend to date. I still don’t know why Manager-nim thought it would be a good idea.”

“Hyung, if you didn’t have the dating excuse to be together, they would’ve slut-shamed her or called her a social climber for being out with you at night anyways. The photo, remember?” Hoseok shrugs, sprawled on the bed of their Japanese hotel room. “Face it– there’s no winning when she’s associated with us; they’re always going to compare her to you.”

“Ugh! I should’ve– done something, I should’ve said something! Hobi, she was put in danger because of me!” Yoongi still doesn’t look up, only gripping his pen tighter. “She keeps saying she’s fine but she’s not, and I know she’s strong– stronger than I was, than I could ever be– but she was hurt, nearly killed, and she’s fucking traumatized because of it. Because of me.”

“Quit beating yourself up, Yoongi hyung. Y/n is a grown woman and she’s making her own choices. She’s trying to protect you– haven’t you noticed? Jeez, she probably knew this was how you’d react– no wonder she kept it a secret.”

“I don’t need protecting anymore.”

“Neither does she.”

“But the haters–”

“So do something about them then. Y/n already has,” Hobi nods at his phone. “What are you going to do?”

Yoongi stares at his notebook. “What I do best.”

~~~

“Y/n, please, darling, don’t make me beg! C’mon, eyes closed, you don’t even have to kiss his cheek, just get closer to him.”

You swallow nervously and nod, before taking a breath and leaning forward, your lips barely brushing Wonho’s smooth skin.

“Perfect… trail your hand down his neck, that’s it… Wonho, give me a lip bite, look right into the camera– yes, exactly! We’ll have the music swell, and add the voiceover right here. And… cut! I think that’s our take!” The staff applauds as the director calls out the end of the commercial shoot. You grin inwardly– if you hurry, you can make it to the boys’ apartment for dinner.

Wonho extends a hand as you leave the set. “It was nice working with you, y/n. I hope to see you around sometime.”

You smile and shake his hand. Wonho had really been the best part of this freezing, somewhat demeaning endeavor. “Same, it was a good experience. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

Lisa hasn’t texted since yesterday, so you figure she’s still working on the assignment. So much for no more rideshare apps, you think dryly as you’re dropped off a few blocks from the boys’ place. You can’t wait to surprise them, and it’ll be a good chance to ask Jimin for another video for Lisa.

You pull your hood up to cover your hair– bundled in all your layers, and with the sunset’s last breath settling over the city, the crowd of ARMYs clustered around the building ignore you easily. You slip into the side door using the spare key Yoongi lent you when you stayed with them and tiptoe up the stairs.

Holding back a giggle, you knock on the door to the apartment, and… nothing. No one answers. You knock harder– still nothing. Maybe they’re watching a movie? Or was their flight delayed? Yoongi said everyone would be back by Saturday evening and they have a private jet anyways, so they should be home.

You try the door and find it unlocked. Huh. It’s not trespassing if you’re their friend, right?

Tentatively you enter the house. “Guys…?” It feels eerily empty– maybe their flight was delayed. No, wait! You hear a voice, and music coming from down the hall. Are they recording? You’ve never been into any of their studios, but you’ve seen enough pictures online to know all about them.

Maybe you should leave. You’re about to turn around when you hear a muffled, yet familiar voice.

“So when there’s someone new… no, that’s not it.”

Well, at least you know your Yoongi is home. You quietly pad closer to the famed Genius Studio– You’re just curious, like any fan would be. You’re about to knock on the door when you hear something that stops you cold.

“Ugh– y/n!”

You practically jump out of your skin. Wait, what? Does he know I’m here? How? Your every drop of blood turns to ice and you back away from the door in case it swings open. Instead, Yoongi only continues; perhaps he’s talking to himself?

“Okay, okay. Trying again. This is take, uh… sixteen? Seventeen? Aish, who cares. C’mon, Agust, gotta get it right.” Yoongi’s muffled voice shifts in tone as a beat starts, and you can see Agust D in your mind’s eye when he begins to rap:

“Here’s someone new, a challenger to drown and rue, but think about it, mull it over, she’ll talk until you’re drop-dead sober, dock some points, you’re so below her, do your best to fucking loathe her, love her, think yourself so much above her–”

You feel half-hypnotized. Her? Who’s her? Maybe you should knock, it almost feels too personal, too intimate to overhear but you can’t interrupt, not now–

“She’s stronger than I’ll ever be, so if you’re gonna hate, hate me.”

If Yoongi keeps executing these perfect rhythmic shifts and internal rhymes you might be in serious danger of falling in love with him for real.

“Calling people snakes on a verbal kill spree only exacerbates the pain, trapping us in our brains, until there’s one way out, goddamn.”

“Beautiful,” you whisper, barely noticing that you’ve spoken aloud. Yoongi’s words, his raps, his poetry… it’s beautiful. You’re entranced to the point that you don’t notice the beat has stopped.

“Did you say something, Jimin-ssi?” Yoongi calls from inside his studio.

Oh shi-

The door swings open before you can react and Yoongi steps out. His expression is relaxed, unguarded... until he catches sight of you.

“Y-Y/n?”

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, lovelies! Hope you enjoyed <3 As always, thanks for reading, and please don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog!

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ao3feed-tododeku · 5 years ago

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You're an (Avant-garde) Anomaly

you're an (avant-garde) anomaly by shinkouku

Izuku Midoriya is Quirkless. This is a well known fact between everyone at Aldera Middle School. Izuku's childhood friend, Bakugo Katsuki, knows it the best. He teases him, makes him a laughingstock. He is there, laughing alongside everyone else while Izuku scrubs the distasteful slurs off his desk. He is there when the bucket of dirty water is dumped down Izuku's neck. He is even there, on the last day of school, when a man in all black puts a cloth up to Izuku's face and throws his limp body into a battered blue van. Bright words advertise a cleaning service.

Katsuki knows he should do something, but all he does is stand there, body pressed flat against the wall, as the van pulls out of the neighborhood and disappears around the corner. Midoriya Izuku is missing for one year, and declared dead the next. Katsuki does not tell anyone what he saw. One year later, Midoriya Izuku is found, laying bloody and battered on the ground in front of his home, by his mother, Midoriya Inko. He is the same, albeit taller and older. He sports new scars on his right arm and a healed-over white scar that crosses his left eye vertically and reaches until his top lip. When he wakes up, they find out he also has a Quirk.

Words 4531, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki, Class 1-A, Midoriya Inko, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Pro Heroes, League of Villains, Iida Tenya, Shuuzenji Chiyo | Recovery Girl, Ensemble, Uraraka Ochako, Basically Everyone In BNHA I'm Just Too Lazy To Write Them All Out I'm So Sorry, Lots Of Side Appearances

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Class 1-A & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Midoriya Inko, Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Midoriya Izuku & Everyone, Midoriya Izuku & Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Jirou Kyouka/Yaoyorozu Momo, Todoroki Shouto & Yaoyorozu Momo, Lots Of Side Relationships are Mentioned But We Focus On TodoDeku And KiriBaku

Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Uhh SAD, PTSD, mentions of abuse, Mentions of alcohol, Violence, Fighting, Gory Descriptions, UHH NASTY SHIT BRUH, Some Smut?? But Not Rlly Tbh, uh gay, gay lots of gay, deku gets kidnapped lolol, Trauma, shit hurts man, i kinda ship inko and all-might im sorry eek, Sad, lots of sad but im trash at writing so, deku is quirkless only pre-story and its barely mentioned, bruh moments ...., im gna throw in jokes, bad angst like, shit bruh you've been warned, dark shit, deku gets a quirk from all for one, yes im not kidding, no one dies but someone ends up heavily hospitalized, todoroki nearly blows up multiple things, endeavor is a fat chode and gets no rights, Poor Life Choices, Yikes, UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH gay, they end up kissing ha ha, SLOWBURN YOU'VE BEEN WARNED, todoroki is baby, tododeku are switches but mostly todo's on top because i cant take bottom todo, twin pro-hero ocs i made but they barely have big parts lol, uhh tags r out of order so goodluck have fun, i cant write for shit im so sorry, also, i hate mineta so he gets evaporated, mineta haters combine, Gay, mental illneses and panic attacks, im so sorry, Endeavor gets his ass handed to him, ..... by his own son ....., cute stuff and a shit ton of fluff to even out the angst

Read Here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/19390165

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Tododeku #💚#💙#Tododeku #♥#R:T #W:V #A:Shinkouku #Quirkless AU #Mental Illness #Fluff #Angst

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soukcku · 5 years ago

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Dazai finds Chuuya long before Mori or the Mafia or the SO Division know of him. He knows of Chuuya because when he wanders the city to get away from Mori, he comes across street kids fighting each other. Stops to watch, because the matches are fierce, and people get hurt. He loves how alive the fighters look, and he loves blending in with crowds of bloodthirsty children.

He sees Chuuya before the others do; for some, it’s easy to overlook a small redhead in unassuming clothes. But Dazai watches him. Watches the power and confidence in Chuuya’s stride. The way the air shifts subtly around him, how people part for him without realizing what they’re doing.

The first time Chuuya fights, Dazai bets on him. Foolishly, as it turns out; whatever power Chuuya has, he doesn’t use it, and loses quickly. The young girl taking bets laughs at Dazai, and he doesn’t blame her.

The second time, Dazai bets against Chuuya. And Chuuya wins. He’s been practicing, Dazai thinks. He’s more force of nature than skill, but he makes it work. He makes it look easy.

Dazai can’t come back to the rings for a few weeks, but when he returns, Chuuya’s established himself well. He’s got his own ring of supporters, and haters as well. And these days everyone bets on him, because there’s no chance at all that he’ll lose. When Dazai places his money on Chuuya’s opponents, the girl taking the bets laughs at him again.

Chuuya wins.

He keeps winning.

Dazai bets against him every time. He loses money—quite a lot, and he keeps wondering when Mori will ask where it’s going. He doesn’t really have an answer. What he knows is that he loves the look in the eyes of the losers when they realize how hopeless their endeavor is; some of them keep fighting. Many simply give up. Chuuya continues to be a storm of perfect destruction, no subtlety but all grace.

When Chuuya thrashes someone twice his age and weight into a pulp and walks away untouched and unaffected, Dazai follows him.

Through the streets, past rundown houses. Into an alleyway that’s a dead end, and Chuuya says, without turning, “What do you want?”

“I want to teach you how to use your powers.” Dazai has been thinking about this for days, now.

Chuuya snorts. “I already know, and even if I didn’t, why would I need your help? In case you haven’t noticed, I won every time.”

“Every time,” Dazai says steadily. “But the first.”

Chuuya’s shoulders tense, and he turns around slowly. His eyes are large, blue like someone’s put the summer sky into them. Blue like the sea. Dazai’s never seen anything like it. “Only because I didn’t use my powers that time.”

“Exactly,” Dazai replies. Waits for what he’s saying to sink in.

It does, faster than he thought it would. “What could someone like you teach me?”

“How to fight against other ability users. How to win against them.” Dazai’s painfully aware he doesn’t look like much, that he doesn’t seem to be in a position to make claims like this. Chuuya arrives at the same conclusion.

He laughs. Dazai doesn’t blame him, but he’s a little tired of being laughed at. He’s walking forward before he can think about it, two quick strides forward. A hand against Chuuya’s chest, pushing him into the wall. “Never let anyone corner you,” he says. Dazai feels the subtle shift in the air that means that Chuuya’s trying to use his powers, and smiles grimly. “Won’t work, sorry.”

“How—” His eyes widen. “Are you one too? Is that why my ability doesn’t work on you?”

Dazai nods, stepping back a little. “I’m a dead end.”

“A dead end, huh?” He stares Dazai down. “Yeah, no. Nothing seems to work. How do you do that?”

“I don’t,” Dazai says apologetically. “It’s just me, I’m afraid.”

“You can’t turn it off?”

“Nope.”

“Why do you want to teach me?” Chuuya asks astutely. “What’s in it for you? Who are you working for?”

“I work for the Mafia, but frankly I’m just bored.”

Chuuya shakes his head. “That sounds like such a lie it can’t possibly be one.”

Dazai shrugs. “I don’t care if you believe me.”

“Good,” Chuuya replies. “Cause I most definitely don’t. But I’d like to learn how to fight, and even if you can’t teach me I bet you know someone who can, eh? You look like the kinda guy that walks around knowing names. Where do I meet you?”

“I know a place,” Dazai says carefully. But it’s hard to keep his elation out of his voice, hard to suppress the way his chest burns with something almost like excitement. It’s not just the prospect of training someone like Chuuya—even the idea of spending time in the company of someone who wouldn’t kill him right away, given the chance, is exhilarating. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Chuuya agrees. “I’ll meet you here.”

—insp

#original #soukoku #carysfics #not the training together fic you're looking for

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otomeshistarlight-blog · 6 years ago

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Here we go again! Lets see how far we make it this time! Some spoilers ahead so continue at your own risk.

28: Who is your top? Uhh, you asking what I think you asking? eyeemoji.jpg. So, of my established harem, Endeavor is by far the most likely to top as well as the one who’d enjoy it the most. Overall, I think the others would be down to try and they’d do things at their own pace but by and large, I think Flame Daddy would get off on it more than anyone else. Mirio is the only one who may not be down to give it a shot but he might surprise us!

29: Who is your bottom? This is a question that I, a certified uppity submissive, cannot properly answer. I have yet to seen anyone in this series who I’d be willing to top for the benefit of, as was the case with Ichimatsu. Maybe my answer will change in the future though!

30: Who would you like to take a bath/shower with? Everyone. This is a two part answer. First, I’d very much like to bathe with Endeavor. u.u Imagine with me, being in an open air bath, and going through the ritual of washing him from head to toe, taking extra care with each individual body party to show him just how invested in worshiping him I am. Then we switch, and in stark contrast to my careful washing, he treats my body like his personal plaything before abso-fucking-lutely rawing my brains out. Phew. Part two of my answer is Dabi. A nice, intimate shower in which we can explore each others body’s - me more so than him - and I just think it would be really nice to be with him in such a ... vulnerable situation. He doesn’t appear to shy away from showing off his burns (or whatever the fuck they are) but to have them all out on full display to a woman who conceivably could run away screaming in terror but doesn’t is something else altogether. What would he say? What would he do? Ooh, so many fun ideas!

31: Best kid? From an unbiased standpoint, I’d probably have to go with Uraraka. She really is a good kid who just wants to take care of her parents and make some friends along the way. I really can’t fault her for a goddamn thing.

32: Who has the most beautiful eyes? The men of the Todoroki family - Dabi preemptively included in that statement. Who gave them the fucking right?

33: Fave Villain? Right now its Toga. She’s cute. She’s deadly. She’s in love. I want her to succeed with every fiber of my being.

34: Best Female Teacher? Considering how limited my choices are, Midnight.

35: Best Male Teacher? Aizawa because even though he’s forever tired and completely done with everyone’s shit, he still goes out of his way to care for not only his own students but apparently every kid he runs into. Just because he’s a pro hero doesn’t mean that he was at all obligated to become Eri’s guardian so the fact he took that upon himself says a lot to me.

36: Fave Pro-Hero that is not teaching? Endeavor. Seriously, fuck all of you haters. He worked damn hard to reach the number one spot and just because his methods weren’t always correct, it doesn’t automatically negate all of the good he’s done in-universe.

37: Best mom? Probably Jiro’s mom, Mika. From what I remember of her brief appearance in the manga, she seemed like a pretty solid parent.

38: Best dad? Dadzawa for the reasons described in 35.

39: Worst dad? First of all, I don’t appreciate this biased as fuck list and I think its really telling that there isn’t a ‘worst mom’ question. Second, I’ll personally fight each and every person who has an issue with Endeavor so this question can honestly eat my ass.

40: Who’s your daddy/mommy? Big Flame Daddy, Endeavor! Unf. I also not so ironically call Fat Gum vore daddy so go ahead and put me on your list of problematic bloggers right now.

41: Who’s your father and mother figure? I don’t usually look for platonic mother/father figures but if I had to pick someone to be my dad, it would probably be Aizawa. He’s a good dad, guys. Let the man parent in peace.

42: Fave BNHA quote? “My two most hated phrases are ‘hard work’ and -” wait, shit. Wrong fandom, thats Jojo.

43: Best female fashion/costume? I think Uraraka’s costume is really cute, especially the big poofy boots.

44: Best male fashion/costume? I’m gonna’ have to go with the newly introduced Hawks for having the least offensive and most generally aesthetically pleasing outfit that barely even passes as a costume from the looks of it.

45: Worst fashion/costume? All of them. Aoyama for sure and Best Jeanist deserves a mention too. Honestly, there are aspects of almost all the costumes I would change for one reason or another. Like, in my opinion, Bakugou has got to lose the hair accessories and Ojiro doesn’t even have a costume. Its a regular old gi you’d wear in a training hall with a gadget belt to really bring the whole thing together. I’ve got my fingers crossed they get to tweak their costume designs in their second year because this is some shit.

46: Who is your trash? Uh, you mean all the characters I stan?

47: Ship that you would go down with? Fuck a ship, I’ll go down with Bakugou and Endeavor as individual characters until I’m dead in the ground.

48: BNHA AU? My favorite is the AU where people manage to set aside their personal feelings and look at characters like Endeavor with an impartially critical eye and base their judgement of said character based on that alone instead of their initial knee jerk reaction that essentially boils down to THIS ACTION IS BAD SO THE PERSON IS INHERENTLY BAD TOO.

49: Weird hairdo? Present Mic’s hair is awful. Fight me.

50: Hangout with in real life? I want to absolutely destroy a 24-hour buffet with Fat Gum and then bang in the parking lot afterward.

Guys, I’m having fun answering these but why are there so many questions!? I’m so sorry for starting this and being too prideful to stop halfway through!

#ask

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years ago

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Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 53 – Battle and Blight

‘Damn it. Damn it. Damn it...!’

Rael furiously grit his teeth, his eyes trembling, as he watched how the smoky trace of a small missile was slowly dissipating.

The fact that the missile was undoubtedly ejected towards the exact coordinates of the KSA headquarters fanned his fear.

He knew he must destroy the machine Yuhyung just activated.

He could not dare fire himself after the missile; the machine was still whirring under Yuhyung’s hand, and he did not want to be too hopeful and turn blind on the chances that the machine could shoot second or third or more of its missiles.

‘So he wasn’t after me.’

Technically, Deneb was after him, and he was willing to stage a battle right here, right now.

However, he did not want to simply eliminate Rael; he was going to make sure Rael will not be able to thwart Yuhyung’s plan, as proven by his poised stance as he stood between Rael and Yuhyung.

“That should be good enough to practically uproot the entire building, right?”

Asked Deneb, his head cocked a little towards the human.

“You’re correct, sir. And the area within the vicinity will be affected as well.”

“Good. Very good. I can’t make an accomplishment unless there’s something for me to accomplish. I’ll check things out as soon as I’m done here.”

That was when Rael at last released his shaky voice, and Deneb’s eyes directed themselves back onto the Kertia’s face as he was snickering.

“Are you saying you will use the innocent people here for your personal ambition? These people have already suffered on multiple basis, losing their homes and beloved without even knowing why. Why would you shove them into yet another pain? Just... Just why would you do this? Just how much of a big accomplishment do you wish for? Is it worthy enough to push others into forced sacrifice for?!”

“...Now I did not see this coming. You’re actually standing in favor of humans, when you used to be the most hardcore human-hater among our kind.”

Deneb’s eyebrows nearly touched his hairline, as if he were genuinely caught off guard by Rael’s speech, making Rael’s mouth automatically shut.

“Not to mention how you refuse to abort your courtesy, which I find even more surprising. I was expecting you to drop your formality, if not outright curse at me. I didn’t see this coming at all – you playing a head of a clan despite the situation.”

Playing a head of a clan?

Rael was so very inclined to bark at him, to demand if he has any idea what he goes through every single day, when at least for that very moment he was mortified to be dubbed with a title that Deneb also possesses.

Still, the Kertia managed to exercise every last bit of his patience to hold onto his remarks, upon which Deneb made a sinister smile.

“Or is this how you complain how much pressure and obsession you hold for your position? Is that why you are feigning all that elegance and poise and grace, when I wouldn’t be surprised to see Sir Gechutel or our lord to jab me with the most profane of all language? Yes, that must be it, seeing how you still look like... That.”

And what about my looks?

His anger was short-lived, however, and Rael’s hand slid across his face to touch on the bountiful lock of hair draped across a side of his head.

It was true that even after Deneb’s invitation, during which he screamed at Seira before he could stop himself, Rael had not relieved his hair of its new style, for a reason he could not fathom.

He knew he could not blame his tight schedule; it would have taken him mere 5 seconds before bed or during dress-up.

And of course, he told himself a lie when he thought that he did not know why.

It was one of his desperate endeavors to become a head of a clan that will make his father and brother proud – no, a head of a clan just like his brother. Hence he stylized himself in imitation of Razark.

Deneb nodded, seemingly having seen through this.

“So you’re feeling immense pressure for what you have at hand. Why don’t you take this opportunity to just die and hand over the title of the octaclan to me?”

Deneb blurted out, his manner so mundane as if sharing what he had done for the day.

Nevertheless, the contents of his speech were what Rael had not once imagined, and his mind that was very close to being scattered sharpened at once.

“You will die here. And you will not die Rael Kertia. You will die as a gruesomely shameless sinner, brought to justice by my hands.”

Rael’s mouth fell open beneath his mask, his eyes rolling at what Deneb was muttering.

“You lost your war against the patriarchs of Kertia and decided to bring Union into your vengeance upon Lukedonia. And I, Deneb Illiness, will be the one to stop you, betting my life for the task. And so I will save the humans who very nearly lost their future without the knowledge of the cause. Thus the Kertia clan will lose all its authority and radiance, just like the traitorous clans of Lukedonia, with a vacancy available among the octaclans. And I will not miss my chance to win Seira’s heart, since she is particularly fond of humans, as well as the lord’s recognition, to ultimately take over the Loyard clan and replace Kertia’s name with Illiness. That is my dream.”

Rael did not veil his stupor; Deneb’s plan was nothing short of what the traitorous heads of clans plotted against Raizel several centuries ago.

“All the evidence and testaments are ready, partially thanks to this human here. And you must be wondering why I’m spilling all this for you. Simple – you will not make out of this place alive. Like I said, dead men tell no tales.”

“...You think I’ll just watch you doing all that?”

With his head fully comprehensive of Deneb’s scheme, Rael could feel fury tinted with responsibility boiling within.

Ironing the corners of his lips and forehead clean of twitches and wrinkles, Rael fixed his edged eyes upon Deneb.

“What you are attempting is manipulation, calumny, and murder of your kind for your twisted ambition. Have you ever given a thought about what your ancestors would feel if they are to behold what...”

“I’m telling you, there’s reason why time is not altogether powerless upon us nobles. Just look at you, once-the-greatest-trouble-of-noblekind lecturing me, rubbing in my face how you switched your allegiance from anti-human propaganda to become a human-lover, keeping yourself well-mannered even now... Which isn’t like you.”

Not like me.

The idea what had been incessantly tormenting him and ridding him of his sleep ever since his permanent return to Lukedonia mauled upon his calm as if on a cue.

Which is why he could not react on time when Deneb lunged towards him, a rare occasion for him.

“Ugh!”

Deneb’s attack, his pointed hand as a weapon, was not even close to average.

Nonetheless, Rael got to learn how distraction or underestimation can backfire as a fatal weapon.

He succeeded in avoiding the hand that was aiming dead center towards his heart, but instead his shoulder was sliced, skin underneath exposed.

Deneb was relentless with his charges and blitz, obviously not willing to let Rael take the lead of their deadly dance.

Notwithstanding, Rael’s combat experience was still alive and breathing, and he did not change his mind about finishing this battle as quickly as possible.

Which is why once again he called forth his Grandia.

And once again his soul weapon did not return his call.

Deneb made a sickening smile, in the course of his survey on the blonde noble.

“Normally I would have been less than a snort to you. But I heard from that human your soul weapon is unavailable for now.”

Rael made a humongous flinch as he evaded a series of razor-sharp strokes from Deneb’s hands, in the meantime peeking at the human researcher who was awfully peaceful in his observation.

“And I know that you want to capture me, not kill me. You wouldn’t want any of the evidence or testament I mentioned to be published posthumously.”

Deneb smirked like a child at an amusement park as he bickered.

“Given that your soul weapon is not responsive while you are not allowed to kill me, I will surely have a chance against you!”

Rael could no longer hide his dismay, his eyes captivated by Deneb throwing himself forward once more.

“Goddamn it...!”

*****

Meanwhile, at the KSA headquarter

“What the hell is going on here?!”

M-21 shrieked, trying his best to deliver his voice past the ear-splintering siren.

The men gathered at KSA director’s office were in the middle of panic, once the siren ripped its way through all floors, following the duet of a light quake and shatters of glass and concrete.

“What happened?!”

The doctor yelled in frenzy to the transmission just delivered to Taesik’s phone on the desk.

<S-sir, a mini missile just penetrated the wall of the night shift duty room, 4th floor!>

Although it was the time of the day when KSA building is mostly unoccupied, there were few people who were staying overnight for work or getting some shuteye in the said chamber, which was the most densely populated area as of now.

The party’s faces turned pale; they could already see the massacre that took place on the 4th floor.

“So... What’s the casualty?”

Taesik squeezed his voice box in inquiry; as the head of the KSA, he was painfully aware that being dumbstruck with grief was not an option for him.

<Uh... None, it seems.>

“What are you talking about? I can hear the siren as we speak.”

<I-it appears that this missile is not meant to detonate or destroy lives. It resembles a capsule, so I’m guessing it was designed to carry and spray someth... Huh?>

The four humans did not like that the agent’s speech was met with a question mark at the end; unnerved, they repeatedly crossed and exchanged looks with each other.

<W-what the...?! Sir, this missile is releasing gas...!>

Gas? What gas?

Wait a minute.

Could it be the...?

At that point they were reminded of THE gas – the one that Yuhyung used to study as a weapon against Union-affiliated modified humans.

The gas that could not be calibrated as needed in targeting their desired foes, because of which it was canceled and disposed of.

And about which its file was opened and scrutinized by its composer before his departure to Lukedonia.

Without a single word dispensed, they sprinted to the 4th floor.

They had no patience to spare for the elevator to pick them up, so they chose the stairs, which was already clouded with gas that was permeating from the 4th floor.

Taesik and the doctor led the way, their mouths and noses covered with handkerchiefs just in case, and Tao and M-21 soon found themselves at the night shift duty room, the floor hardly visible due to milky-gray smoke.

And they saw a hole with debris dropping from the corners, with beds and desks tossed away from their original positions.

“This is bad. Looks like some of the gas leaked outside on the streets.”

Tao added after poking his head beyond the hole.

“But is it just me, or this smoke kind of... Sticky?”

“I was thinking the same thing, too. That guy must have done something to...”

At then, the doctor and Taesik groaned and wobbled on their feet, and their bodies hit the floor when Tao and M-21 looked behind them.

“Sir! Doctor!”

The two RK’s kneeled to inspect them, and that was when they realized they were surrounded by at least half dozen KSA agents and employees that had lost conscious prior to their arrival.

“What are we supposed to do?”

“Uh... F-first, let’s move them somewhere safe. For now we could make use of the lab that’s...”

Slap!

When Tao reached out towards one man, his hand viciously yanked Tao’s wrist in his grip.

‘W-what in the...?!’

Tao crooked his brows, the man’s force far past moderate, firm enough to astonish a modified human like him.

And the owner of the hand slowly raised himself, his eyes gleaming dangerously, his movement reminiscent of something that people would usually see in zombie films.

The other agents and employees rose in mimicry, their eyes in synchronization as they gazed at Tao and M-21.

The two men froze in sensing how things were definitely taking the wrong turn, and soon enough their audience emitted low growls.

(next chapter)

And thus begin the battle and blight... *Dun dun dun* It surely is a challenge trying to feature separate places all at once as the highlight of this fic is unfolded, but I will do my best. Once this battle is past, the finale will be staged very soon lol. I’m almost there, and I won’t stop until I make it! :D

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #fanfic #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #lunarkxfrankenstein #wolfsbane #Mr.Wolf #AnAngelicDay

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sorrymomandcat · 5 years ago

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Wed. November 6 2019

12:21AM I need a new lighters

8:09AM

I woke up with that feeling.

Surprisingly not tired.

I might be after I cry.

Goodbye past.

4:33PM I'm starting this in my car on my anxious pressured 'break' at the ever busy Budapest. I'm gonna not. Brb.

4:55PM Okkkk, I’m going to be real with you.

I had a lot of clever ways to open this conversation but I have forgotten them since sitting in my Ferrari having not 1, but 2 smokes. You ever feel like you’re chewing on your own teeth? No? Good, that means you haven’t smoked meth for the past 255 days. To be clear- Cobain, Lampwick & The Joke are all synonyms for a former co-worker. Although the same person, they’re sort of not #mentalhealthawareness. TLDR; the more evolved part of me really hopes this guy is just a mean, jaded fucking asshole because the alternative is that they’re deeply psychotic and likely the permanent kind. Both leave little hope for improvement but the former at least KNOWS that. KNOWS I know. I could do a whole bullet-point slideshow fucking presentation on the red flags I had been seductively blindfolded to through exploitation of deepest nature and a stubborn unwillingness to accept pain and anger & I just might. I might. I might need to! I processed most of it as it was happening, denial was a bitch though. If you come from a place of; neglect, abuse and chaos but decided to assess your damages rather than project them on to innocent and typically pretty wonderful people.. then you need to equip yourself. Even if you took the more outward approach, leaving everyone in your path as empty useless collateral damage.. you could benefit as well. Tell yourself 'I’m only self-improving to gain further access and a tighter hold of my victims’ It doesn’t matter. Educate yourself on the impact of trauma/abuse/upbringing. See what happens to you. @ me.

5:53PM There’s a lot of Construction Boyz here tonight. They hit on me and I’m all like ‘omg I smoke crystal meth and I’m in an over-sized hoodie at work with obviously contrasting roots growing in.. you have no idea how much I needed this’ hahah. Still, it’s nothing quite like the validation I get from making humble jokes to myself in my neurotic head! Where was I? Oh yeah. The Joke; Lampdick. This motherfucker fucking pulls out a REAL LIFE meth pipe, Chief Leaf right there. Of course CL is through-n-through up to date and real time a best friend without judgement, so it doesn’t reflect on me, but I’ve been fighting tooth (lol) and nail against obvious (but not blatant) disapproval toward this endeavor with Joke.. (of course gaslit with remarks like ‘fuck the haters’ ‘you’re really going to care what they say’ ‘it isn’t their relationship’ .. you’re the hater.. they treat me with consistent respect so duh.. you’re absolutely fucking right-it’s ours-and it fucking sucks because you’re an abusive psychopath.. shove that isolation groundwork technique up your) ? No respect. To pull out a fucking meth pipe after:

Day 1 appreciating we had a different DOC (drug of choice) and agreeing that use needs to be controlled in the best harm reduction sense possible & I firmly disclosed that I am 100% in no fucking way ever going to be okay with anyone-ever smoking meth near/with me. I still barely forgive the fuckers that ever let me do it - and I know full God damn well it was my choice/fault/willing action. I barely forgave myself! For letting them let me! Or that I even let me let them do it! So. No. It was immediately made clear. Day 1.

Throughout this treachery The Joke made here-and-there comments about like “pass it this way” and “why don’t you save me any” and other repulsively ignorant and juvenile comments and my stance toward the matter remained firm. Which he always met with “yeah I know! I’m obviously joking! I agree! I would never do that to you” Like I was crazy for hardening my responses. Fucker, fucking fucker.

Seeing/hearing what I have vulnerably shared and experienced since the first day I made this choice (and I know not everyone who has/will make that choice is going to have MY experience. I’m not claiming that. I’m claiming ‘I don’t give a fuck what another person’s experience may be - I am not fucking here for it’ - ‘it’s a no from me dawg’

Knowing how desperately I am trying AND want AND try to want (some days it really do be like that) to stop smoking crystal. To end-all repair the damage it has done to myself, my relationships and my life. To prevent the inevitable damage that waits if I don’t.

Not to mention all the attempts at ‘crazy making’ by exploiting my guilt and fear of potential harm: caused by crystal meth. ie; “you’re definitely sleep-stealing my keys and/or moving things because YOU’RE smoking crystal meth, and that shit is BAD bad + your traumatic childhood,’ (that he doesn’t give a fuck about unless using it against me in similar scenarios) ‘so come on. You can’t deny engaging in these behaviors, that I refuse tell you about. You meth-trauma black events out.. you’re not conscious of it because of YOUR big bad drug.” (which it is and I don’t intend to downplay it)

Seriously. These are real events & that’s just scratching the fucking surface. Note: this blog intentionally has NO followers and is ran anonymously. My intention is only to self-vindicate the man made madness I've enabled. Yet STILL it manages to drag into a month and a half of my God damn precious and OBVIOUSLY seriously fucking sensitive time. I feel NO shame for that; for struggling right now. For falling the fuck on my ass/face/faceassfuckhands onto a SERIOUSLY cemented floor! that manages to also be falling upwards into my fucking face! So instead of ceasing upon impact; continuously bashing my fucking FACE in. It fucking happens man. I fucking know that and I fucking own it as shamelessly as is safe to. Not as a way to justify where I am right now - but to foster a belief that I am worth the insidiously meticulous effort that's required to be better. In a better position to improve the quality of how I serve myself and thus actually beginning to serve those around me. Jesus shit what a Joke. I can’t believe I let myself: be treated this way, be ignorant to it, be willing to entertain the idea that maybe it was OK (even warranted).. but between you and me: I find it even harder to believe that another human being - one who has clearly been deeply wounded as well - can see the genuine sincerity of another human being’s soul and heart.. compulsively bleeding from a profundity raw enough to captivate a nihilist.. and humbly exposes it.. with nothing but purity in the regard of inherit human good.. and could intentionally stick their dirty fucking arms vigorously inside and tear at the exposed gauge made faithfully available. I’m not innocent here. But there’s no blood on my hands. I won’t point my fingers but my eyes are staring right at you. I know what you did to me. I did not agree to it. I agreed to taking the risk. Do you know what you did to me? Educate yourself. Wash your fucking hands.

I didn’t bring any crystal to Budapest today. I didn’t know I was going to begin opening this, or I would have.

= I’ve got to go for a smokes.

That’s enough for now.

7:55PM I don’t know wtf but Doug offered me to get stoned and so I did outside but the guys who needed to switch rooms came back and then outside too because they insisted on my break.. Golf was looking for tape and offered me a Tim Horton’s, I said hot chocolate. Then Striped Vest guy also forever chatted and offered me a Tim Horton’s; I said hot chocolate. Still no tape and I tell him about Striped Vest and hot chocolate. He says ok. Meanwhile, Doug and his friend Chevy Lover are shooting the shit too and Doug asked for my number. Well first he asked if I was single. He asked if I was dating anybody LOL first of all I’m stoned and second of all the literal words out of my mouth were ‘everybody’ sincerely believing it as a reflection of my innocent love for life and immediately realizing that was a stupid answer so on reflex I said “no, myself. ha ha no. nobody. nope. that’s a. this guy who was my boyfriend died once. like a long time ago. no. weird. yeah it was wicked. wait what? why? but no. I don’t. not.” and I’ll never forget that or this hot chocolate.

8:03PM Golf asked me to put his poppy on (dude you’re 51, you’ve definitely done this more than me and I HATE war) so I asked him like, when the war was and what it was called - “Oh no, I don’t know a lot about history” meanwhile a second ago he was like “I guess I should put one on because my Grandpa fought in the war” no that was you. anyways so I’m learning about WW1. You say you remember so much, name 5 of our veterans? #therealneverforget

Disclaimer: I still haven’t read anything about it, I’m sorry to all relatives of dead soldiers I deeply condolence and RIP. No disrespect. We out here.

8:07PM Damn I really wish I had another hot chocolate.

8:39PM How is it not midnight?

#fuckyou #inhumane #livingtumbstonefeels #enemiesnotfriendsintokyovibe

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r95irth · 7 years ago

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25 of August

Thank to the last ask, Satoru has a “real” birthdate. Though he doesn’t remember so it doesn’t matter to him. But it’s still a special day for some, and so I wrote a not-so-short One-shot about it. Hope you’ll like it ^^

-Is something wrong? Is the job finally getting your mood?

Death-pair, though people knew him under a different name here, looked up. His colleague had this silly grin on his face, not a single hint of worry. That’s what Death-pair liked about him ; he was a sadist that enjoyed other’s pain. You had to, to work in this kind of place. You didn’t need a heart when you were a pawnbroker. It was the perfect way to rebound for Death-pair : desperate people came everyday and he could feed on their emotions, and most important of all : there were always cash near his hand. if he ever need to flee, he would just have to steal it.

-It’s already the 25 of August, nothing related to work, he just answered his colleague, knowing it would satisfy him. - It’s my kid’s birthday today.

-I didn’t know you had a kid!

-He’s not with me anymore, he’s in a better place now.

He used the ambiguous sentence willingly, to protect his identity. The scandal about the quirk-market was dying down, but the Usagi park tragedy was still close, and trials related to it were being held every single month. He didn’t want to risk being recognized.

Death-pair thought that the news would content his co-worker’s sadistic side, but he was surprised to taste sadness and compassion under his tongue. It was unexpected.

-That’s harsh man, sorry. Sometimes life sucks. Do you need your day off?

It was the same guy who laughed when the grandmother from the neighboorhood had to sell her dog, to pay off her debt. Death-pair needed pain to survive, like other needed water and food, that’s how his quirk worked, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed witnessing it sometimes. This made absolutely no sense. Human, most of the time, made no sense. He knew that much. There was probably a reason behind the sudden and unexpected compassion he received from the Sadie man, but Death-Pair didn’t really care that much.

-Nah, it’s okay, i can work. Beside, it helps to do something, so keep me busy.

The colleague shrugged, his emotion already fading into their usual routine:

-Whatever works for you man.

Death-pair ignored him for the rest of the day, focusing on his work. but sometimes, between client, when silent filled the room, his eyes wandered on the street he could see behind the vitrine of the shop. They had a full view of a school yard and sometimes he could catch a glimpse of kid playing and laughing. He realized suddenly that he couldn’t even remember the sound of Satoru’s laugh.

***

Satoru laughed, Shouto was struggling with the sliding door, his arms full of paper bags and foods. Momo beside him took some herself. Even though he was a hero and dealt with villains so strong, a locked door managed to defeat him mercilessly. After another grunt he gave up, put all his bags on the floor and tried to see what was wrong with the lock.

-Can you check the mailbox Satoru, while i’m checking this? He said, as he gave him the tiny key.

-Are we stuck outside home? Momo asked simply with a worried

-No. It’s an old residence, it’s normal the lock is a bit moody.

-You sound like Mahô, talking about the lock’s feelings, Satoru laughed again as Shouto made a weird face, and this time Momo laughed a bit too.

Certainly being compared to the loud best friend of Satoru was not to his liking. He left them here, Momo creating tools Shouto needed to fix whatever was wrong, and let them fight on their own. The mailbox was almost empty when he opened it. He struggled to read the info on each letter. He was getting better at reading, but sometimes people had a strange handwritting that was hard to decipher. In the end it was only a message from the landlord, some fan letters of support (probably for the upcoming trials) and a strange tiny box with his own name on it.

Satoru received letters -enchanted letter- every once in a while since Mahô moved to the countryside. But they never arrived in the mailbox. Last one came flying at him while he was at school, knocking against the window he was staring at. So it wasn’t from Mahô. He didn’t recognize the handwritting either. He tried to shake the box, and it made a weird sound, like something was shattered inside.

When he came back at the doorstep of his home, Shouto and Momo had managed to open the door. They were already busing putting everything in the fridge, so Satoru went to help and forgot about the package.

He only came back to it after way too late into the evening, after diner. Shouto was choosing the story they would read together before going to bed, when Momo arrived with the box in her hand:

-What’s that Satoru?

-I don’t know, it was in the mailbox.

-It has your name on it, but not expeditor address, she said, frowning.

Shouto stood up and went to check the box too, waves of worry coming from them.

-You should have told us, he said, it can be dangerous.

Satoru bit his lips, feeling a bit guilty, the thought never occured him it could, but now he was getting why. Shouto was a popular hero after all, and some didn’t like what Satoru brought upon his life : troubles. (Heck, Satoru wasn’t even sure he was a good thing in Shouto’s life either) Some were not dangerous, like Endeavor, who only complained from time to time how his son had better things to do -like training- instead of parenting. But other were more harsh, saying that the hero Shouto would have never got suspended for two months without the boy. And besides that, heroes always had fans and haters, no matter what they did. Just like fans, haters sometimes sent hateful message and prank that only made them laugh.

Luckily, whatever Momo had used to check the package, she gave an apprving nod and gave it back to the boy:

-I don’t think this one is dangerous. You can open it if you want.

So he did, under their careful glance. The package was simple, tiny, and clumsy wrapped. There was no note inside, or signature, only candy box. That was why he heard the sound of shatter. He recognized the brand, immediately.

Shouto’s raised an eyebrow, surprised as much as Satoru.

-Who would send you candies?

Momo was quicker and took it back.

-Before you eat it, i will ask our staff to check it. I heard terrible stories about shard of glass put into food that hater would send. I will give you back, i promise.

Satoru only nodded, feeling a bit dizzy and dulled. Shouto immediately noticed and patted his head:

-Hey, what’s wrong?

-It’s the brand i used to eat with my mo- with b-Big Mother, i mean.

he it his lips again, struggling against the words. He didn’t want to make Shouto and Momo feel like they were less important than his biological mom, but sometimes it was hard to not say the m-word in front of them. Especially when he was troubled. Nobody knew about this brand, except, well, Big Mother. It as their secret when he was little, they used to hide a candy box in the tiny flat they were living, filling it little by little and only took it out to eat the full content on wednesday. It was one of the rare good memory he treasured with his mother, one of the very few they both had been happy. He didn’t get how anyone else could know, he never tell a word about it except to Shouto and Momo.

And Big mother was very much dead.

-Maybe it’s from your grandmother, then, said Shouto.

It’s true that his biological grandmother had been present when he told Shouto and Momo. But he had no news from her since the hospital. She didn’t call, she didn’t send any postcard. She didn’t make any effort to get to know her grandchild. She didn’t care. Just as he expected her to. So why would she start now? And why today of all days? It wasn’t any special day. Beside she would have signed, or put a note, if she was the one sending it. No, that didn’t make any sense.

-Anyways, this is even stranger, i will check this out before giving back to you, Satoru, just in case. -If it was someone who knew that, that meant he was related to your mother.

So a villain. Satoru immediately thought of Death-pair, one of the very few villains of the team that got away. Death-pair might knew about it. At least more likely than the other one that got away, the Doctor had never been close enough with Big mother. He surprised himself to wish it was from him. Sometimes, even though Death-pair had hurt him many times and never cared like a father should have, Satoru missed him.

But why today?

***

Death-pair came back home with a sigh, throwing off his jacket on the mattress on the floor. His flat was nothing but useful, he didn’t plan to live long here, so he didn’t decorate it. He hesitated, then put on the bracelet -that had been a handcuff months ago- and savored the contact. His hunger got worst, but he didn’t taste his own emotions and it felt good. His body immediately deflated. Sadness always made him stronger thank to his quirk but now, thank to the suppressing power of the handcuff, he felt just as he was supposed to feel : weak and tired. He was going to sleep early, tonight, he decided. No need to plan diner, he had his full share of food today with his work.

Then he heard a bark and turned his head. The stupid dog the grandma sold stared at him, angrily, waiting for his food. Unlike him, he could not live off from other people emotion and needed meat. For the first time in the day, Death-pair laughed.

-As moody as always Airi. I get it, i get it, i’m up. See?

Of course the dog didn’t answer to the name : it wasn’t the one he was raised to respond, but Death-pair didn’t care. The dog was moody, aggressive but very loyal. So he called her Airi. Beside it would have pissed Airi (the real one) and he had always liked to piss her off.

As he gave the stupid dog her food, he brushed her furr, as always the dog grunted, not liking it one bit, but didn’t bite his hand off. She liked to be caressed, but only when she wanted it.

-Hey, Airi, i will tell you a secret if you promise you don’t spill it.

The dog ignored him. It didn’t matter, Death-pair resumed:

-I never gave any present to Satoru for his birthday. Today is the first time.

Giving a present would had been as accepting the fact that he was the boy’s father. And he had not been ready for that for the longest time.

-Though, it’s not the first time i did something special. Last year his mother went to hug him and play with him, and when she left he had been so down that i couldn’t stand it. I ate off all his feelings so he felt nothing left and he had slept for the rest of the day.

At that point he had seen his act as mercy, but now he wondered. Either way, that wasn’t a very pleasant memory. And he wasn’t even sure the boy realized it had been his birthday. Back then days kind of blurred together for the three of them.

-But i remember once, he started.

He had a somewhat happy memory of Satoru’s birthday. Before the boy hit 4 years old and revealed his quirk, when Big Mother was still mostly sane in her head and wanted nothing but to keep her son to herself, away from any harm. She had prepared a somewhat big party for her boy, with a cake and all. She had put so much effort into it, that she just dropped on her fuuton and slept for hours after that. Satoru was a quiet boy who never cried at night and never woke them up (luckily, because Death-pair would have hit him if he did, as sleep was the only time he felt normal). But he had been restless at this age, always walking around clumsily and climbing on everything, trying to test the boundary of his territory. With his mother asleep he felt free and had wandered away from his comfort zone. Where Death-pair actually lived. Of course, Death-pair had been nothing but annoyed at it, there were rules under his roof and the boy was stepping on them. So he scared the boy off.

What he hadn’t expect though, was for Satoru to come back, only a couple of minutes later. The boy was so little the top of his head barely reached the table Death-pair was sitting at. But that didn’t prevent him from shyly put three candies on it.

-For you, Satoru had said back in that time.

Death-pair had no need for real food, but he was curious. Before the kid had been nothing but a brat, not really that interesting. The villain hadn’t realize he had grown so much that his constant babblering had turned into clumsy words. He remembered wondering when that happened, and why he was feeling so weird about it. He also remembered that, his past-self has decided that if the kid could talk, that meant he was old enough to be have a conversaton with. So he had asked:

-Why are you giving me candies?

And Satoru, the little boy so tiny he barely fit the bunny hoodie his mother asked Death-pair to buy, had answered:

-You hungry.

Was it the first signs of his power awakening? Death-pair wondered about it now, but in the past he only had’t been surprised : he was always hungry. And beside hungry was close to angry, so the boy might had mixed up the words. Anyway, it had been the boy’s birthday, but Satoru was the one giving him present and that had made him laugh.

-You like candies, he asked.

The boy had nodded, blushing with delight. And a stupid idea had overcame Death-pair. He had been bored, with Airi sleeping on the room and no work until evening. So he harshly asked:

-Wanna see where candy are sold?

The boy had never left the flat before, it was one of the rule Death-pair had set. But since he was the one making the rule here, he had assumed he could break it when he wanted. And that day, he had wanted very much. Satoru’s face had lightened up, and he had nodded vigorously. He had wanted to wake up his mom, so she could see too, but Death-pair said no. And Satoru didn’t argue, scared.

SIt was the only time Death-pair got out and enjoyed an evening with his son. Now he realized it. It hadn’t been much. At most half an hour out. Satoru didn’t like him, he was only happy, giddy and amazed by what he was seeing. So Death-air had been able to hold his tiny hand in his. It had been the only time. Children’s love was easy, and the very next time Satoru touched Death-pair, the villain had felt sick. So he hit him and forbad him to do it again. But that day the boy didn’t very much knew him, as much as Death-pair didn’t very much knew the boy. They had enjoyed the moment, and bought some candies that Satoru put in his secret candy box as soon as he returned home. Luckily Big mother was still sleeping and she only learnt about the event later. When Death-pair told her to piss her off and eat off her anger.

Overall It had been a good memory. But Satoru probably didn’t remember. He had been really young after all. It didn’t really matter, he would make new ones with his new family. Better ones.

Airi -the dog- barked again, as she stopped eating, and immediately went to pee on Death-pair’s mattress. Bitch. Just like her namesake. Sometimes Death-pair didn’t know why he cared and loved this silly beast.

But he was just glad that now, thank to the handcuff, he was able to enjoy love without getting sick. His good and down sides all the same.

***

Satoru was at Peace office, trying to work on his calligraphy, as other kids from the new found peace-program were playing around. He was so focused on his work that he didn’t hear Momo and Shouto when they arrived by his side. But he saw the candy box when they put it in front of him.

-It’s safe, smiled Momo. -We checked. No poison or glass shards, Mei even used her new invention to check it for quirk-related-alterations. You can dig it if you want.

-Sorry it took so long, added Shouto. -It was just to be sure. I don’t know who send it to you, but at least they mean you no harm.

Satoru didn’t mind. After all he didn’t know why he received such a weird present and he didn’t know if he wanted it. It brought back bittersweet memories that made his heart grow to big for his chest. He knew it was wrong to miss a villain as bad as Big Mother, and such a awful mother, but he still did sometimes. It stings. Even though he was way happier now with Shouto and Momo. He didn’t know if he would even swallow one candy, with his throat feeling so tight.

-Oh! Candies.

One of the boy that was in the peace-program pointed Satoru’s box with his finger. He was not japanese, and the son of a diplomat and a hero -though, Satoru knew that his dad was working in another country. His name was Max, and he struggled with everyday word, even if he was getting better at learning japanese. He had a good methodology, that was teached by year of moving around the world. He learned pronouns, then verbs, time marker and then everyday vocabulary. That way he always managed to do sentences that one could understand, even if it was not grammatically correct. Satoru find the idea interesting and was trying to use it to learn other languages too. He was currently working on French with Aoyama.

-Yes, candies, he answered Max with a smile.

Then an idea went to his head, and the uneasy emotion that was hurting him faded a little bit.

-Wanna share? He asked.

He wasn’t sure why, but the idea of sharing it, using this strange present to make friends, pleased him. The memory still hurt a bit, but hopefully he could transform into something else. Something better something, that one day, would not hurt.

Max nodded, smiling back, and in a matter of second, another boy joined them. Tsubaki, a silent boy around their age that Momo asked Satoru to keep an eye on.

-Can i have some candies too, asked Shouto.

-Yes, they look delicious! And i’m a bit hungry, added Momo.

-You’re always hungry! Stated Satoru.

-He’s not wrong, confirmed Shouto with a grin.

-It’s because of my quirk, defended Momo.

Satoru, as he laughed, put three candies in front of them,and stopped his hand in mid-hair. He had a strange sens of déjà-vue. But as it’s always the case with those kind of feelings, it went away. It probably must had been nothing important, if he forgot, right?

Satoru focused on the present, and enjoyed the sweetness of the candy in his mouth as much as the sweetness of the moment.

#bnha #better care #oc : satoru #oc : death-pair #My writing #one-shot

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petitsreticules-blog · 8 years ago

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Recherche, recherche

The summer I was twenty, I read A la recherche du temps perdu in its entirety. I’m now nearly twenty-eight. My life is weird and empty in a lot of ways and I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve been going through a serious loss and I’m picking up and dusting off the pieces of myself I can still use. And I am feeling drawn to the Recherche again, and I follow my feelings these days, for better or for worse. This novel taught me a lot in my initial experience with it, and I think it probably has a lot more to say to me now.

Here is what I remember of that summer in 2009: I lived in Chapel Hill, North Carolina; it was the summer after my sophomore year at the town’s university, and the first summer I ever spent away from my hometown. I lived in a room in a house with people whom I did not know well and never tried to get to know; my inherent shyness kept me confined to my room or, better yet, out with friends or at my home-away-from-home, the Open Eye Café. My room was barely furnished: a bed, a desk, a computer chair. No decoration. No personality. It was temporary housing, just for the summer.

My hair was long, long, long, and my heart was green.

I was reckless, wild. My legs stretched on forever from daringly short skirts, and I stood well over six feet in the heels I was always wearing. My hair reached past my waist, shiny and strong. I danced in bars and at house parties and at the many shows I saw at the Cat’s Cradle and Local 506. I drove a forest green minivan well stocked with Prince and Talking Heads cassettes. I went to summer school classes in the mornings and always stopped for an ice cream cone on my walk home from campus.

The author at age 20, 4 July 2009

No man had ever given me his heart. My own heart had never truly been broken. I had not yet felt the slow, sad, unstoppable drift that pulls you away from a friend you thought would always be near to you. I felt so grown up then, but I didn’t understand anything.

That summer, I began work as a cashier at the grocery store where townies and students alike shopped. I read Proust on my fifteen- and thirty-minute breaks. Often, during a very long shift, the only thing that kept me going was that little bit of reading time. I read Proust while sitting on my bed, listening to Grouper’s Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill over and over again on my laptop speakers; some days I could go as much as five or six hours without doing anything but reading, getting up only to replay the record. I read Proust at the coffeeshop, and I read it aloud at house parties to people who could barely even hold their cigarettes aloft. I read it in less than three months. The only other people I know who have read the whole thing are tenured professors at highly respected universities.

Now, as I approach the age of twenty-eight, I find myself thinking more and more that I want to reread Proust. Because I read voraciously in the last year and love myself for it, and love some of the things that it’s done for me. Because in reading a lot of Haruki Murakami and Karl Ove Knausgaard this year, Proust’s monumental work came up quite a bit. Because in 2009 I was a girl and now I am a woman. Because it’s an outlet for a voice I haven’t really used in a while. Because I want to reclaim and renew the meaning this book has for me. Because it’s about love and time and the way that every slice of ourselves adds up to something that we try to define as a self. Because something about it is just calling to me, and I heed myself. Just because. And that, in the end, is the only reason that ever really matters.

I keep thinking to myself, my god, this is the most pretentious thing I’ve ever publicly done. Who reads Proust? Who reads it twice? Who tries to write about self- and literary discovery and the fourth dimension and the mutability and immutability of time in relation to the Recherche? My answer to all those questions is: Haters go home. I’m doing this for me, for my heart, for my mind, the same damn way I did it the first time.

At twenty, I was checking out volumes of the Recherche from the university library without thought or care for the translation; this time, I’ve actually considered the issue, and have decided to read the Enright editions—originally translated by Moncrieff, updated by Kilpatrick, and then finally, updated again by Enright. I’m highly aware of the imperfections and problems posed by Moncrieff’s translation, but it is the one that introduced English speakers to Proust, and with two updates, it seems to remain the best out there.

The author now, 31 December 2016

When I first read this book, I basically read it straight through, maybe giving myself a day or two between volumes. I don’t have a plan for this current endeavor, but I don’t see it looking like that. I definitely see myself reading plenty of other books alongside and in between the seven volumes. But I’m hoping to make a weekly update on my progress, along with general thoughts on the fourth dimension and its implications in my life—much more noticeable now than at twenty. I don’t really know what to expect of this, the same way I don’t know what to expect of the year. It’s a time for time, is the only way I can figure it.

#proust #marcel proust #a la recherche du temps perdu

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selohtun20 · 5 years ago

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The only thing worse than a hater (is a traitor)

All Traitors AU by @hey-hamlet

Word Count: 3183

You got this man, you got this. Kirishima psyched himself up, pacing back and forth in his dorm room. He’d typed out a text to Bakugou, panicked about it, retyped it, then gave up and sent what he’d had down originally. That was two minutes ago, and Kirishima has never regretted a text so much before. It was so simple, just a “can we talk in my room?”, nothing incriminating, nothing too bad. But Kirishima was still nervous, because this was it. This was who he told. Kirishima was the traitor.

Bakugou was nervous as soon as he got the text. He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, had he? There wasn’t anything he could think of, nothing that shitty hair would know about at least. But his mind still worried, turning him into a ball of nerves by the time he reached the other boy’s room. He knocked, once, then took a deep breath. “C-come in.” Bakugou resists the urge to swear at the stutter, and instead swings the door open. Shitty hair had been pacing, that much was obvious. He gives Bakugou a shaky smile, and motions for him to sit on the bed. Bakugou does, apprehension and nerves growing more and more. Because this was it. Someone knew his worst secret. He was the one and only traitor.

Kirishima takes a deep breath after Bakugou sits down, settling his nerves one last time. “Bakugou- I- okay. Don’t freak out, please, but I- I need to tell someone or I’ll lose my mind.” Bakugou looks nervous, but nods for him to continue, the boy unusually quiet. “It’s- it’s me. I’m- I’m the traitor. I couldn’t keep lying to you anymore.”

Kirishima expected a lot of things. He’d run through many of the scenarios in his head, ranging from explosive anger to Bakugou just straight up killing him.

He was not expecting Bakugou to blink twice, glare at him, then swear under his breath, before he barked out a laugh. “Uhh, what?” “Shitty hair, you aren’t the traitor. There’s only one of them, and I know it’s not you.” Bakugou stands up, stalking towards Kirishima. “No, seriously, I am. I’m the traitor.” “You can’t be the traitor dumbass, I just said.” Kirishima raises an eyebrow. “Why?” “Because I’m the traitor. The only traitor.”

“What? You can’t be the only traitor, I’m the only traitor! Sensei said it was just me!” Bakugou doesn’t care that they’re yelling, doesn’t care that anyone could hear them. “What the fuck? I’m the only one!” Kirishima glares at him, then smirks. “Okay, so say that we’re both traitors, man. If Sensei really said there was only one of us, someone is lying. But Sensei also does stuff because he thinks it’s funny, so maybe- “ “Maybe there is more than one.” Bakugou sits back down on the bed, runs his hands through his hair, and swears. “What the fuck.”

Midoriya knows certain things. He’s observant, has been since he was young, and has always had a knack for putting two and two together. He has detailed notes on all his classmates, most of the teachers at the school, and enough knowledge on the top fifty pro heroes to kill them all easily. Knowledge is power, and that means that Midoriya is arguably the most powerful person in Japan, besides maybe Sensei.

Being so observant has its drawbacks, of course. He notices everything, a hyper-aware tangled mess of emotions and actions and movements. He watches his classmates train and spar, watches their schedules and watches them break those schedules, figures out what their weaknesses are, who their weaknesses are. He writes his notebooks in code nowadays, fearful of the suspicion that would be cast on him if anyone ever found them and de-coded them. Everything happens in patterns, and he knows that he’s pushing his luck, and sooner or later, someone will figure out what he’s really scribbling down in his notebooks.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do then. He didn’t mean to, but he’s made actual friends. People he gives a shit about, people he doesn’t want to die. Because the truth is this. He’s the traitor. He’s the traitor, and if (when) they figure it out, it’s all over.

Todoroki may be his father’s greatest creation, but he is not his father. Endeavor is a hero, a brash, impulsive toddler with immense power and talent. Todoroki Shouto is a quiet, awkward child with little to no social skills and a bitterness for the hero system that let his piece of shit father climb to the top. He barely knows his sister and knows even less about his brother, his mother is in the hospital, and the only consistency in his life is his father, and more specifically, his father’s fire. He’s constantly covered in burns and bruises, battered and weary of the training he’s been doing for as long as he can remember.

His oldest brother, supposedly dead, is the one who recruits him. Endeavor wanted a son to overcome All Might, to become the Number 1 Hero.

“What would piss dear ol’ dad off more than turning traitor?”

His brother Touya is long dead, but Dabi is alive. The only one who ever tried to protect him, other than his mother, is alive. It’s an easy choice.

Todoroki Shouto is the traitor. He’s never felt so free in his life.

Tell a kid he has a dangerous Quirk for long enough, and he’ll start to believe it. Tell him that he can be a hero after he starts to train, after he becomes well known, and he won’t believe you. Years will pass, he’ll be a pro hero, but only truly in name. Bursting eardrums and shouting people off buildings isn’t enough. Yamada Hizashi can level them, could destroy a city block if he wanted to. It’s not just sheer Quirk power either. He’s well trained, he’s charismatic, he’s smart.

Aizawa didn’t take much convincing to join his side, either. Eraserhead was underground for a reason, seeing the faults in the publicized heroes and the ranking system, how supposedly weak Quirks get thrown out in favor of power. But heroes, public or underground, are bound by law. Regulations and rules dictate what they can and cannot do, who they can and cannot save. It’s a frustrating system, born of money and greed. One hero can’t change it. A group of villains might. (Being married was just the cherry on top.)

In the end, it worked out for the best. They both got jobs at U.A. teaching, and that made them insiders.

Yamada Hizashi and Aizawa Shouta are traitors.

(Their son Shinsou isn’t far behind.)

“Are we any closer to finding the traitor?” The voice passes through the door, but they don’t think anyone is outside. “No. We can’t eliminate anyone, either. At this point, all of us are suspects.” Papers are moved, the soft tapping of a hard surface to straighten them echoes through the door. “Here’s a more important question: do you think it might be a student?” The room bursts into murmurs, voices blending together so much Hagakure can’t tell them apart. She pulls away from the door, ready to move. Her footsteps are muffled, and she’s completely invisible anyways. “As much as it pains me to admit it, we cannot throw out that possibility.” A sigh. The principal’s voice is easy to recognize. “All possibilities must be explored. Short of asking Detective Tsukauchi to question everyone, we can’t know for certain.” Hagakure can almost feel the tension in the room, even through the door. She creeps away, smiling to herself, and walks into the nearest bathroom. She bolts the door behind her, smiling to herself. She’s got a stash of clothing that she slips on quickly, and pulls out one of her phones from the stash. “They don’t suspect a thing.” The traitor’s identity is safe for another day. She unbolts the bathroom door, silently leaving without a trace.

“How many traitors do you think there are, man? If there’s two of us, maybe there’s even more!” “How the fuck would I know? I didn’t even think there was more than one!” Jiro unplugs her jack from the wall, grinning to herself. She’d had her suspicions, and she knew about Kaminari, but the fact that there were at least two more? Well, that made this even more interesting. Maybe it was no longer a question of who are the traitors, but a question of who aren’t the traitors. She walked away, headed toward Kaminari’s room. He’d be happy to hear the news.

“You’ll never guess what I heard in Kirishima’s room.” She doesn’t bother to knock, instead, she walks in without any other announcement. “Were he and Bakugou having sex? Because Bakugou has been over there a lot lately.” She rolls her eyes, and smacks him lightly with one of her jacks. “No. There’s at least two more traitors.” She watches with satisfaction as Kaminari’s eyes widen, and rolls off his bed to grab a notebook from underneath it. He thumbs the pages until he lands on the one they’ve both been looking over. Two more checks go next to their classmates’ names. “I caught Hagakure listening in on a staff meeting. I’m pretty sure she’s one too.” Jiro nods. Kaminari isn’t stupid. If he thinks she’s in on it, she probably is. Most of the class is in on it, from the looks of things. Too bad Sensei didn’t say how many there were, just that there was more than her and Kaminari. Oh well. They’re traitors for a reason.

Tsuyu isn’t sure how this happened, but she’s not about to argue. Her girlfriend is in her room, smiling at the trinkets she has laid out. Logically, she understands that Ochako is only in it for the money, really, even if she’s proven that she’s not completely shallow. The more interesting thing here is the fact that she managed to convince Tsuyu to join her, to be traitors together. They’re in high school, they aren’t running off to get married tomorrow, but somehow Ochako convinced her anyway. She was rational about it, well thought out arguments, and smart enough to figure out that Tsuyu would probably say yes either way. “Is this a picture of your family?” Ochako points towards a small framed photo of her siblings and her parents. “Yep. I made them take a nice one so I had a photo before we moved into the dorms.” Ochako coos, and walks away from the photo to flop down next to her, wrapping an arm around Tsuyu’s shoulders. Tsuyu lets her head fall onto her girlfriend’s shoulder, smiling. Rationally, she understands that this could only truly end in disaster. Someone is bound to figure them out, and she’s not sure what will happen then. But she’s happy right now, to let her worries be pushed from the front of her mind. They might be the traitors, but at least they’re happy.

Birds fly around the campus all the time. Students and staff alike pay them no mind, speaking when they think no one can hear them. Koda hears it all. He’s always been good with secrets.

Her fingers curl around the listening device, willing it to work this time. She puts the earpiece in, breaths in once, and turns the device on. She places it on her bed, stands, and claps once. It echoes in her ear, and she stops herself from cheering, instead smiling. The hard part is far from over, however. She has no idea how on earth she’s going to get it into the staff room, but she’s relatively sure she can get it on a teacher’s back, or maybe on someone’s papers. It’s clearly not something that belongs, but she’ll make it work.

Her chance comes during class, sliping the device between thick papers that she brings to sensei’s desk. She holds in her smile, fingers on the earpiece in her bag when she sits back down. When he leaves, she nearly makes a run for it towards the girl’s bathroom, only barely letting her friends know. She locks herself in a stall, and puts the earpiece in. It’s mostly papers being shuffled, but she hears someone pick it up, fingers brushing over the microphone inside the little thing. She almost swears, but instead, she hears a chuckle. “Smart, kid.” That’s Aizawa-sensei’s voice. “Might need a way to make it a little smaller, though, Yaoyorozu.” She expects him to crush it, to send out some kind of alert to the other teachers, to her classmates, but instead, the device gets shoved inside a desk, from what it sounds like. She can still hear everything.

She’s not the only traitor. She’s got an ally. Maybe Aizawa-sensei knows how to make a smaller device, for next time.

Sero doesn’t really care about the whole “hero’s are just in it for the money, blah, blah, blah” that he hears from some of the league members. He’s known this life for the entirety of his own, and he’s never minded it. Having friends is just a bonus, seeing as how he’s almost entirely sure that Mina is on his side. Even if it’s only so she can call herself Alien Queen. Sero doesn’t judge.

Shoji smiles to himself, retracting his ears and eyes. The U.A. staff won’t know what hit them.

Somewhere else, in the dorm building’s kitchen, Sato bribes his classmates with sweets for gossip, unaware of his intentions.

Midoryia frowns at his notebook. He’s got one that’s only for his classmates and teachers, written in code, with not only Quirk abilities, but personality, friendships, schedules, and, most importantly, weaknesses. This, he already knows. It doesn’t explain why Iida keeps running off after class, every Tuesday, like he has somewhere to be. Midoriya is well aware there’s another traitor. He’d be an idiot not to know, but he has no idea why Iida of all people would be one. It’s suspicious, to be sure, but he has no idea how to bring it up. Now that he thinks about it, Tokoyami has been acting odd as well, hanging out with Aoyama and Ojiro of all people. Their personalities don’t exactly mix, and they don’t seem to hang out other than on Wednesdays, walking together like they’ve known each other their entire lives. Midoryia knows that really, it’s none of his business. Midoryia also knows that he’s going to make it his business.

It’s official. Jiro has never been so confused in her life. All of their classmates are the traitors. All of them. Their acts don’t line up, their friend groups don’t line up, and she’s beginning to suspect that maybe even Aizawa is in on it. Kaminari pulls out the notebook once more, and checks off the last two students (Iida and Aoyama, of all people) as confirmed traitors. But it still doesn’t make much sense. Why would Sensei have all of them be traitors? All in the same class, they wouldn’t cover nearly as much ground as they might being more spread out across classes, and they can’t exactly go everywhere on campus as students. So why all of them? But it all lines up, and even if they’re still a little shaky on some of their classmates, Jiro is pretty sure they’re all on the same side. She’s going to get to the bottom of this, no matter what.

She calls them all down into the common room, knowing that Aizawa is out temporarily, and that Mic might not even care. She’s pretty sure the two of them are married, and Mic doesn’t seem the type to not know what his husband is doing after patrol.

“I have gathered you today because I’m either losing my mind, or we’re all idiots.” Her classmates looked to one another, exchanging looks and worried glances. “We know who the traitors are.” Kaminari smiles at Jiro, holding out the notebook. It’s open to a page that simply says, in bright, bold letters, “IT’S ALL OF US!!!!!!”

The room, appropriately, explodes.

“Wait, Sensei said-“ “I knew it wasn’t just us Mina! You owe me-“ “If it’s all of us, why wouldn’t Sensei break us further apart, seeing as how we’re all in the same class and have limited reach across the entire school, unless there are teachers in on it, which would make sense because Present Mic is still here, so it’s highly likely that Jiro knows that he’s on our side if she was willing to call us all together to make the announcement-“ Midoryia is mumbling himself into a nervous breakdown, only to be interrupted by Bakugou. “OI! QUIT FUCKIN’ MUTTERING, DEKU!” “KISS MY ASS, KACCHAN! But if he didn’t want us to know-“ Midoryia keeps going, as if he didn’t just swear at his childhood bully like it was nothing. “Wait, Deku, are you the person that the Nomu likes?” Ochako’s voice rings out above the confusion. “Huh? Oh yeah! He’s like a big, cuddly dog! I love him!” Midoryia claps his hands together, smiling wide. “Didn’t Shigaraki call that thing a demon?” “HE’S A GOOD BOY, DAMMIT!” “He only likes you, man!” Kirishima yells out, and before anyone can respond, Aizawa comes back.

“Is there a reason you’re all yelling?” He really doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this. There’s an open notebook lying on the table, with the words “IT'S ALL OF US!!!!!!” written on it. His class whispers amongst themselves, until Yaoyorozu speaks up. “Guys? It’s okay, he’s one too.” The entirety of class 1-A breathes a sigh of relief, and goes uncomfortably silent for a second. The problem child speaks up first. “We figured out who the traitors are!” Aizawa feels his eyes go a little wide. Midoryia’s smile grows, until it turns into one that’s all teeth, and Aizawa can tell he’s enjoying dragging this out. “It’s all of us! Including you and Mic-sensei!” Aizawa feels his heart rate go down, then go straight back up when he realizes what Midoryia actually said. “All of you?” The class nods. “Oh gods help me. Is that why you got into a slap fight with Kurogiri, Bakugou?” The explosive boy nods, smirking. “Mic! Come out, we have something to talk about!” Aizawa hears a crash, the sound of someone tripping, and out comes his husband. “Hey! What’s- Shouta. Why is everyone here?” Aizawa sighs, then motions to the class. “So it turns out everyone is a traitor. All of them.” “All of them?” Aizawa activates his Quirk on instinct, and Hizashi has the awareness to look sheepish. “Yes.” “Wait, which one is the one who the Nomu likes?” Midoryia’s hand shoots up, and he waves it around like crazy. “He’s a good boy!” “Is he?” Aizawa isn’t sure who says it, but the room explodes once more into conversation, and he puts his head in his hands. Hizashi puts his arms around his shoulders, holding him close. “I’m going to punch All for One in the face.” “You do that hun.”

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha au

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bklyngirlreads · 6 years ago

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Why Black Social Media Lost Its Mind Over The Guardian’s Colorism Article? By S.A. Buchanan

Thanks for stopping by to read my little rant/opinion piece, enjoy your stay.

Writer, Dream McClinton penned a piece for The Guardian’s Shades of Black series originally titled: Dark-skinned Black Girls Don’t Get Married and black social media collectively lost its ding-dong mind! You could almost hear black women throwing their phones and laptops against the wall after writing angry tweets to respond to the article. Black women were enraged and let Ms. McClinton and The Guardian know the article was dead wrong because they are dark-skinned and married and how dare she—Ms. McClinton, speak for all black women. However, one must wonder, what indeed caused this anger from dark-skinned black women, was it the article’s content or the article’s title? Ms. McClinton’s article has since been retitled: Why dark-skinned black girls like me aren't getting married. The backlash (over the original title) has calmed considerably, but it’s now opened an entire conversation that makes people, specifically black people really, really, uncomfortable and it’s about colorism.

In case you’re unaware of precisely what colorism is and to make sure we’re all on the same page here’s what I got when I typed the words: define colorism into Google.com:

col·or·ism

noun

noun: colorism; noun: colourism

prejudice or discrimination against individuals with a dark skin tone, typically among people of the same ethnic or racial group.

If you are a non-black person reading this, welcome to my rant, thanks for coming. Black folks, we know that colorism is kind of like that creepy-ass uncle at the cookout that we keep the kids away from. We don’t discuss him with other family members because it’s too distasteful, we just avoid him. This is the way the black community has dealt with colorism for centuries, dating back to slavery, where lighter-skinned slaves (often the offspring of slave owners) received preferential treatment over darker skinned slaves. However, for many dark-skinned black women colorism is akin to terminal illness. Colorism can be like pervasive cancer that runs through our lives, slowly eating away at our self-esteem, sense of belonging and often our ability to find a mate among our contemporaries, as illustrated in Ms. McClinton’s article.

We’ve done the prerequisite history lesson, and proper definition of our subject matter now let’s get to the good stuff… Dream McClinton’s controversial journalistic piece. The article is written from Ms. McClinton’s perspective and in her voice, she’s a dark-skinned black woman, this is her experience. Therefore, social media responses leave me a bit baffled. How can someone’s personal experience be labeled wrong? “I’ll take Crock of Bull for $200, Alex!” The answer is: You were triggered by Ms. McClinton’s article because you recognized her truth. You recognized the colorism in the black community, and you probably even recognized your own complicit behavior in colorism towards people who look just like you. In my opinion, that’s one of the main reasons this piece has some people so shook.

Ms. McClinton speaks of online dating and the preference of men who look like her in skin tone preferring women of lighter complexion. Preference is the word dark-skinned black women often hear from black men (especially dark-skinned ones) stated as their reason for why they don’t want to date/marry women who share the same complexion as them. This is a running theme throughout the article, and unfortunately, it’s a running theme throughout the lives of many dark-skinned black women. Being chosen last or not at all by men who are the masculine reflection of themselves, and it’s an incredibly hard pill to swallow, one that dark-skinned black women have been force-fed in silent obscurity for decades.

In recent years there’s been a change in the colorism conversation and a blessed one at that, in the form of the social media colorism movement. I can only speak on the ones that I follow, the most prominent one in the group is Chrissie, mocked by haters as a fat, ugly, and faceless YouTuber. Chrissie has started a platform exclusively for uplifting dark-skinned black women by addressing colorism head on. She steamrolls into the issues with a no holds barred approach in a telling the truth till it hurts kind of way. She tackles the effects of colorism on dark-skinned black women, addresses problems dealing with colorist men in relationships, how to work around people who try to gaslight dark-skinned black women when they call out colorist behavior from other, and even how to navigate colorist friends and relatives. Chrissie also endeavors to negate the helplessness that dark-skinned black women often feel dealing with colorism by giving dark-skinned women solutions with her Femininity and Leveling-Up Series. Her platform is highly effective and has a near cult following because she’s not just saying, I’m dark-skinned, woe is me, she offers practical tools to dark-skinned women. This March, Chrissie accomplished what she promised years ago and launched the first fashion and beauty magazine of its kind, specifically for dark-skinned black women called Divine Dark Skin, available in print and digital formats. During the past three years that I’ve been following Chrissie, she’s been threatened and doxed several times. However, her detractors can get no real traction because quite frankly, she’s a force to be reckoned with, who remains determined and vigilant in her mission.

There are other dark-skinned black women on YouTube making a difference in the colorism conversation as well: Author, of Swirling: How to Date, Mate, and Relate Mixing Race, Culture, and Creed, ‎Christelyn Karazin has her YouTube platform Beyond Black & White Elite which receives hate regularly. She is known on YouTube as an advocate for Swirling (interracial dating). She discusses colorism and a plethora of other issues facing black women and her mantra for black women is; Choosing the best man for the job even if you date outside of your race. She’s received threats and doxing for her message but grows her platform undeterred. There’s also a younger generation of YouTubers getting the word out there to dark-skinned black women and girls like Paris Milan, Leah Gordone, For Harriet, and I am Eloho. These younger ladies are impressive in their passion, determination, and grit in schooling their contemporaries on colorism, and I wish I had this medium available when I was growing up.

The Guardian’s article on colorism and the series is a small drop in the pond, the colorism conversation has been going on for some time. It seems the reason some people have taken exception to Ms. McClinton’s article is that it’s in The Guardian. Twitter was dripping with tweets and comments so grimy and tacky you could use them to stick up wallpaper. Many people stated their disdain was because the article aired our dirty laundry in white media. Really? How about we clean our laundry ourselves then there’ll be nothing to air out? When dark-skinned, (so-called) rapper Kodak Black makes his contempt for dark-skinned women known on social media outlets, the black community (collectively) is quiet. When black men on YouTube make video after video spewing vitriol on how they hate dark-skinned black women and dark-skinned black women ain’t sh!t, the black community (collectively), is quiet. Then finally, when dark-skinned women begin to speak about the systemic abuse through colorism, they receive at the hands of the community that is supposed to love and embrace them; oddly enough, they are told to be quiet. And that my dear reader, is why Ms. McClinton’s article has folks so shook because it’s not YouTube, you can’t brush it off as some nut job with an opinion that’s solely their own. The Guardian is a respected newspaper in two countries, and you cannot brush that off or bury it. It’s too forthright, too in your face, has too much clout. Reading Ms. McClinton’s article, which contains interviews from professors who had hard facts, data, charts, basically, McClinton came with receipts! So, for those of you who are acting like your foundation has been shaken, I say, GOOD!

Dark-skinned black women will no longer remain mute and suffer in silence like good little girls. There’s no need to yell or scream; however, we will no longer stay quiet either. We are your mothers, wives, teachers, sisters, and daughters. We are the backbone of the black community, and we deserve better collectively. I know colorism will not end in my lifetime and I’m okay with that. However, what won’t happen on my watch is any young black girl that I’m responsible for, she will NEVER feel the sense of inadequacy that I was made to feel growing up. That’s the challenge I place before every dark-skinned black woman now, find a young girl (if you don’t have a daughter) and mentor her about colorism and its effects. Teach her how special she is and how to love an appreciate all the melanin she’s been blessed with and more importantly how to navigate colorism in our community.

I must be frank, the article did affect me as well because honestly, I identified with Ms. McClinton’s story. I think it’s safe to say that several dark-skinned black women reading the story could relate. Here’s the thing, we know what the problem is, and yes, we should continue these colorism conversations because they are essential and dark-skinned women need to be heard and supported. However, I think the article left me with a sense of yes, Dream, it’s all true girl, now let’s get to the business of fixing this mess! These are the conversations I want to start having in mainstream media like The Guardian very soon because it’s high time. It’s time for dark-skinned black women to start being more pro-active in the fight against colorism. I take nothing away from Ms. McClinton’s article, I loved it. However, I’d like to see more solutions in mainstream media about colorism instead of stories about the problem. Clearly, I’m not the only one who feels that way either, the inaugural issue of Divine Dark Skin Magazine sold out its first print run in record time and is on back order. Like many others, I am patiently waiting for my issue.

Truthfully, as a dark-skinned woman, I’m exhausted with the foolishness that I endure from my own people. I’m not, “pretty/beautiful/sexy for a dark-skinned woman.” Normally, I respond to these comments with resting bitch-face, “well, gee thanks, I suppose you’re handsome for an asshole.” Understand I’ve received these comment from men and women growing up. “She’s so pretty for a dark-skinned girl,” I remember one woman telling my mother in the grocery store. I rolled my eyes at her, I was twelve. I usually get called a bitch for my various unhappy reactions, c’est la vie. But you, my brother/sister didn’t give me a compliment. As a man, if you, “normally don’t date dark-skinned women,” please don’t let me break your tenet. I wouldn’t dream of asking you to bend your rules for little ole’ me…really. It’s old, it’s trite, and it’s tired.

Dark-skinned black women, you aren’t crazy, if you think a remark or action was colorist it is colorist, don’t let them gaslight you, you have a functioning brain. Remember you are not alone, find the support of other women who are like you and having similar experiences, not to whine on each other’s shoulders but to lift each other up. Hard facts: if we don’t do the work to help ourselves, no one else will, the black community has told us over, and over, that collectively they do not care about us, they do not value us, and dark-skinned black women, for the most part, we are on our own. Hopefully, we will gain allies along the way but first things first, we must help ourselves.

Please be sure to check out the rest of The Guardians’ Shades of Black series specifically focused on colorism.

You can also check out the YouTube platforms that I mentioned above using either the links in my piece or the links listed below:

Chrissie Divine Dark Skin Magazine Beyond Black & White Elite Paris Milan Leah Gordone For Harriet I am Eloho

Also, be sure to follow me on my Social Media platforms:

Twitter: @SusanABuchana15

Facebook: @sabuchananauthor

Instagram: @paidforthenight

Pinterest: susanabuchanan0739

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#the guardian #chrissiesway #iameloho #forharriet #leahgordone #sabuchananauthor

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