#me when the villain characters are villains

[jangmi-latte]

SHUT UP LET ME SPEAK ‼️‼️🗣️🗣️

ace grew up in a loving family. HE WAS RAISED WITH LOVE DON'T TELL ME OTHERWISE!!! his parents definitely love each other so much—the trappola brothers definitely were made with love because??? ace was already showing protective behavior back in heartslabyul's episode when he wasn't scared to throw fists after riddle trash talked his parents!! (deuce included)

okay given deuce is the muscle between the two but the rationality is with ace 🎀 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HE 👏 KNOWS 👏 HOW 👏 TO 👏 LOVE‼️‼️the endearment in talking about his family? the way he looks up to his brother? the way he talks about his dad? we haven't gotten much information about mrs. trappola but i just KNOOOOW she raised her boys so well 🥲

he's still growing up, all his experiences are your typical highschool boy but HE'S QJGKAKCKAKFKAJ SOOOO QKFKAKJWKR

the bond he has with his brother, the way the brothers bond with their father, he's the most normal yet was born in such a loving family that he knows how to cherish and value people so much. he can stand up to people with higher titles than him because he KNOWS how to care. blablabla villain school, he's rude WHATEVER HE CAN BE A STANDARD

mr and mrs. trappola would be proud of him in any way because their youngest boy knows how to value relationships. you can see the difference in how malleus understands relationships in comparison to ace. malleus isn't the one who can be an otome standard, it's ACE. tf you mean we can hold hands with him?? HE MADE SUCH AN IMPACT TO YUU WITHIN THE COUPLE MONTHS WE'VE BEEN IN NRC 😭😭😭

HE 👏 STUCK 👏AROUND ‼️ HE CRIED ‼️ HE QJFKAKFKKKRWK

I WANNA SAY MORE MY BRAIN IS A MESS BUT ACE TRAPPOLA, YOU ARE SUCH A COMFORT CHARACTER

[itadorey]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐒�� bakugo katsuki

pairing: pro hero bakugo katsuki x gn reader summary: when aizawa calls and asks for a personal favor, bakugo is ready to expect the worst. genre: strangers to lovers, fluff word count: ~7k warnings: mentions of stalking, nothing happens, you take care of it notes: sorry if he's ooc, take this more as a character study. just a little test to see how i feel when writing for bakugo. description of quirk left super vague, literally just a mention of it being helpful. not proofread sorry ummm rushed too

When Bakugo Katsuki gets a call from Aizawa, he doesn't know what to expect.

There's a brief moment of silence when the call connects, and Bakugo feels himself tense slightly when Aizawa does not speak immediately. He's the first to give in, gruffly greeting his former teacher and being met with nothing but a sigh in return.

"Bakugo," Aizawa starts, his tone dull and tired. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, but i need you to do me a personal favor."

Another moment of silence ensues as Bakugo processes his request. He knows he can say no, but there's something about the fact that Aizawa— the man who has been through everything with him and his former classmates, fought with them and for them, and stood up for him when he was kidnapped by the League of Villains—personally calling and asking him that makes him hesitate before answering.

"Fine," he finally says, already thinking about how he's gonna tell Shitty Hair— Kirishima! he hears Mina correcting him in his head— that he might be out of commission for a few days. "What do you need me to do."

"Just show up when I tell you to," Aizawa says in response. "Maintain a high level of secrecy. Don't tell anyone where you're going. I'll send you the address. See you soon."

Aizawa hangs up before Bakugo can respond, and he mutters a series of curse words under his breath before tossing his phone into his duffel bag and leaving for his agency.

Three days later, Aizawa sends him an encrypted text.

Aizawa's text leads Bakugo to a fancy looking apartment complex close to Izuku's agency. When he knocks on the door of the apartment number provided, he's met with none other than Izuku himself.

"What are you doing here, you fucking nerd?" Bakugo asks, his words harsh and biting as he pushes past him and into the apartment.

"I invited him," Aizawa replies tiredly, trying to stop the fighting before it can begin. "This apartment and the other safe house are in the area that falls under his patrol route, so I thought it'd be a good idea to keep him in the loop."

"You're already pulling one of Japan's finest heroes off the streets for this stupid case, is it really necessary to get another involved?"

Bakugo turns when he hears someone new speak, his eyes narrowing when they land on you and an angry looking woman tapping away on her phone.

He knows who you are, used to seeing your pretty face plastered on advertisements and magazines throughout the country. You're a well known singer who dabbles in acting, someone he's tired of hearing about from the group of idiots he calls his friends. An irritated huff escapes his lips and he finds himself thinking about all the times he protected celebrities when he was still a new hero on the scene, and how they turned out to be nothing more than spoiled brats.

"You and Anya both know this case isn't stupid," Aizawa says patiently, shooting you an unreadable look. Bakugo waits to see how you react, studying you as you exchange a look with the other woman— Anya— and pull the blanket on your lap closer to you. Aizawa ignores the two of you, instead choosing to take the time to remind you, and reveal to the other heroes, what exactly he has called them there for. "There is a stalker out there following your each and every move. Do you understand that? And they've already proven that they will stop at nothing to get to you."

"I know," you say softly, your eyes never leaving Aizawa's. "But I can take care of myself. C'mon, you trained me yourself."

There's a moment of silence, and Bakugo thinks that Aizawa might give in. He's wrong.

"No. Hizashi and I have already decided that Bakugo will be keeping an eye on you for the forseeable future and he has agreed to do it. And Midoriya has agreed to keep an eye out during his patrols as well."

Bakugo waits for it. He braces himself and waits for the pettiness and childishness that he's seen displayed by other big names when they don't get what they want. He waits for the yelling, the waterworks, maybe even the sight of you throwing something at Aizawa. But it never comes.

Instead, you nod and stand before turning to face him, letting him catch a glimpse of the frown on your lips and defeat in your eyes before you bow deeply.

"I apologize for the inconvenience."

"O-oh! No, please don't bow," Izuku immediately says, waving his hands in an attempt to grab your attention. "That's not nec—"

"Don't gimme that shit," Bakugo interrupts, crossing his arms. His comment earns him a strangled noise from Izuku, but his gaze doesn't leave you. "Stand the fuck up and tell me whatever else I need to know."

He thinks he sees you biting back an amused smile at his words, but you quickly school your features before you let yourself fall back onto the couch. Aizawa lets himself settle into the seat next to you, a smile ghosting his lips when you reach for a mug of coffee on the table and hand it to him.

"It started a year ago," Aizawa begins. Anya walks around the couch, picking up a thick folder from the table and handing it to Bakugo. He starts looking through it, eyes scanning every individual item before passing it to Izuku. There's letters of varying lengths and pictures of you from all angles, accompanied by the occasional police evidence photo of what he assumes to be gifts you've received.

"I would receive sporadic letters, at first," you add, your voice tired and quiet. "We thought it was regular fanmail, y'know? But then things started getting weird. They would mention specific things that I'd do on my days off, or ask what I was making with the groceries I had delivered to my door on a certain day. They never signed them but the police confirmed that the handwriting matched, so we know it's one person."

"We assume it's one person," Anya corrects, earning a tired sigh from Aizawa. "We don't really know anything about them."

Her words cause you to furrow your brow, and you sigh softly before looking back up at the Pros. Bakugo's eyebrow raises when he comes across a hospital record for a Yamamoto Anya, and he angles it slightly to show Izuku.

"You were in the hospital?" Izuku asks softly, green eyes scanning the report before turning to face the two of you. Anya nods firmly but remains silent, crossing her arms before perching on the arm rest of the couch next to you.

"Anya's my manager, and my best friend," you explain, clasping your hands together. "As I said earlier, at first the incidents were sporadic. Then we went to the police to ask them to investigate. We don't know how, but the stalker found out and things started getting weirder. There were anonymous gifts being received to the apartment I have under a different name and I was receiving texts from an untraceable number. We still don't know who the target was, but the night of the Tokyo Music Awards, there was an attack."

"Wasn't that last week?" Izuku asks, looking through the file to find the corresponding police report. "It was all over the news. They said that some small time villain had attacked but that there had been enough Pros working security for the event and that it had been taken care of without issue."

"That's what we told them to say," Aizawa reveals. "In reality, it was targeted. We don't know if they intended to kidnap or to injure but things got out of hand and Anya was caught in the crossfire."

"The goal was probably to injure so I'd be easier to kidnap," you say, snorting in amusement when Aizawa sighs at your words.

"Who apprehended the villain?" Bakugo asks, unable to find the name on the police report.

"No one did, but I went after them," you admit. "I almost had them but they slipped into the crowd and got away. I returned to check on Anya and then Aizawa arrived and whisked me away. I've been here since."

"You were stupid enough to go after your stalker?" Bakugo growls, eyes shooting up to glare at you. You open your mouth to respond, only to get cut off by him "You trying to get fucking killed or something?"

A huff escapes his lips when he feels Izuku elbow him harshly, and the two of them turn to face you when you breathe out a laugh.

"Or something," you mutter, earning a swat to the back of the head from Anya. You grab her hand and toss it into her lap, only to turn and be met with a disappointed look from Aizawa. You wilt under his gaze, sighing in defeat and motioning for him to continue.

"The plan is to send you two to a safehouse, still within the city, while Midoriya and I investigate," Aizawa explains, pulling out a scrap of paper and handing it to Bakugo. "That's the address. Unfortunately, you can't just disappear off the face of the earth until we catch the stalker. There's still public appearances and interviews that need to be done, but you need to be hidden during these outings, Bakugo. We fear that if the stalker catches wind of the fact that we involved Pros, that might drive them to do something even more drastic."

Bakugo grunts in acknowledgement, unfurling the scrap of paper and studying the address written on it before glancing at Aizawa. "Can I show this to the nerd?"

He nods in response, and Izuku takes a moment to also memorize the address before nodding. The paper is gone within a second, a tiny, controlled explosion reducing it to ashes. Your eyebrows raise with interest at the display, and Bakugo meets your gaze with a scowl. It deepens when you don't immediately cower from his stare.

"The two of you should get going," Aizawa notes, glancing at his watch before standing and tossing a set of keys to Bakugo. You stand as well, taking a moment to stretch before plucking your cell phone from the couch cushion. You turn to Anya, giving her a smug look that makes her groan.

"You should just go ahead and cancel the rest of my appointments for the week. It would be unwise for me to go out in public before coming up with a surefire way to stay safe when out and about," your words are said a little too happily, and you nearly glow with joy when Aizawa contemplates your words before ultimately nodding in agreement. Anya gives you a scathing look, her hand tightening around her phone as you grin. "Let me know who agrees to reschedule! I hope no one's too upset."

The snicker that leaves your lips draws an unwilling smile from almost everyone in the room, and you swoop in to steal a hug from Aizawa before coming to a stop in front of the Pros. There's a bright smile on your lips that makes Izuku blush, and Bakugo scoffs audibly when you give him another bow.

"It's an honor to meet you, Deku. Thank you for doing this."

"Please! Call me Midoriya," he sputters out, cheeks still tinged pink as you turn and face Bakugo. There's a twinkle in your eye when you meet his gaze, and he feels a spark of irritation when he realizes that you don't seem to be intimidated by him.

"Well Mr. Dynamight, shall we get going?"

Bakugo's annoyance only grows when you manage to keep up with his quick strides.

No words are exchanged as you traverse the street, and Bakugo makes sure to keep an eye out as he opens the door and ushers you into the passenger seat, his hand pushing your head down roughly to keep you from smacking it on the roof of the vehicle. You slide into the car smoothly, buckling your seat belt and glancing around as you wait for Bakugo to get in. Silence engulfs the two of you once he does, and Bakugo finds himself reaching for his phone to play some music and fill the stillness. He feels a blush crawling up his neck when one of your songs plays, the new one that Kaminari insisted on listening to the other night when he drove him home after drinks.

A smirk tugs at your lips but you don't say anything about it, thankfully, and he finds a song he likes and plays it before taking off down the road. You're quietly humming along to the song he's chosen as you look out the window, and it isn't until you're halfway to your newly assigned safe house that you speak.

"I'm not, you know?"

That's the only thing you say and Bakugo makes a confused noise before he can stop himself, his hands tightening around the steering wheel in annoyance when you let out an amused laugh.

"I'm not trying to get killed," you clarify, earning a derisive snort from Bakugo in return. "I have a hero license, I was just doing what I've always been taught to do. Apprehend the villain."

Your admission catches Bakugo off guard, and he can't help but throw you a surprised look when he finally comes to a red light.

"You're a hero?" he asks, his curiosity winning him over.

"Mhm," you reply absentmindedly, still looking out the window. "Technically. I attended U.A., believe it or not, but I wasn't in the hero course. Aizawa and some other teachers trained me and he managed to pull some strings in order to have me take the licensing exam in my third year. He said it was better to have it just in case. Between us, I think he got even more overprotective after Nemuri, Midnight, passed."

Bakugo remembers attending the funeral after All for One had been defeated. It had been a deceptively happy day, sun bright and shining as the students, staff, and other heroes gathered to pay their respects to the fallen. He remembers a student standing next to Aizawa, their hand in his as he held onto what was left in the battle: her mask.

"She was my legal guardian, but she made sure to leave me under the care of someone she trusted just in case something ever happened."

And it did, goes unsaid.

Bakugo's left with more questions than before, but he refuses to give into his curiosity and actually ask. It isn't long until the two of you arrive at yet another upscale building, and hum quietly to grab his attention once more.

"Can I have your hoodie?"

"What the fuck? No!" is his immediate reply. There's an unpleasant look on his face, lips twisted up in what seems to be a cross between disgust and offense. "Why the fuck would you even ask?"

You give him an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow before holding your hand out. "Listen, call me paranoid if you want, but I think it'd be a good idea for me to hide my face as we enter the top secret safehouse."

Bakugo grumbles and curses as he slips off his sweater, pissed off at the fact that you were right. His anger only intensifies when he realizes that he didn't think about that first. You waste no time in slipping the sweater over your head, pulling the hood as far forward as it can go and slipping on a pair of sunglasses. It's only then that you slip out of the car, waiting for Bakugo to get out before heading towards the entrance.

The two of you head into the elevator, and when you reach out to press the correct button, you manage to catch a whiff of a sweet, smoky smell. You turn your head to the side as the doors close, lifting the collar to your nose to see if it came from the sweater or somewhere else.

"Are you sniffin' my fucking sweater?" Bakugo asks roughly, pulling your arm back down to your side. You let out an offended noise before wrenching out of his grasp, leaning against the wall and shooting him a withering look.

"I smelled something sweet and I was curious!" you defend yourself, tilting your head back slightly to look down at him. Bakugo feels his blood boil. "I can't believe someone like you smells so good."

"What's that supposed to mean!" he nearly yells, taking a step towards you. You don't deign to give him a response, instead slinking out from beside him when the elevator finally comes to a stop. There's no hesitation in your steps as you walk past various doors, finally coming to a stop at the end of the hallway and wiggling a key into the lock.

Bakugo trails in after you, locking the door and growling when he's met with a sweater to the face. There's an innocent smile on your face as you slip off your sunglasses, placing them down onto the coffee table before traipsing down the hallway. Bakugo starts his usual sweep around the space, making sure to send a text to Aizawa to let him know the two of you have arrived safely.

"Your bedroom is at the end of the hall," your voice calls out, earning a grunt in response. "Mine is to your left and the bathoom is across from my room. They already came and dropped our stuff off!"

Bakugo's eyes narrow when you walk back into the living room, a mass of fluff held in your arms. "What the hell is that?"

"This is Pickles!" you proclaim proudly, holding your arms out. There's a fluffy cat in your hands, and she lazily eyes Bakugo as she hangs in the air. Your smile falls when Pickles twists, jumping out from your hold and beelining towards Bakugo. "Pickles, no! I'm sorry, she's wary around strangers so I'd recommend backing away if you don't want your pants scratched."

Your words fade out towards the end of your statement, your jaw falling slack as you observe the way Pickles approaches Bakugo and proceeds to rub against him. She snakes in between his legs, meowing softly and pawing at his shoe as she waits for him to pay attention to her.

"You little attention whore," you whisper, your face twisting up in disbelief when Bakugo kneels down to pet her. He shoots you a smug smirk when she starts purring, and you feel your eye twitch when she lays down, exposing her belly. "She took forever to warm up to me. How did you do that?"

"I'm just the best," Bakugo replies cockily. "Even she knows that."

"Whatever, I'm going to take a nap. I can cook dinner later if you'd like," you say softly, reaching up to rub at your eyes.

"I can cook my own damn food," Bakugo snaps, his attention shifting to you. You breathe out a laugh.

"In that case, I think I'll turn in for the night. I'll leave my door slightly open for Pickles."

"Don't be a dumbass, you have to eat."

"I'll just get up early and cook breakfast," you shout, already disappearing from sight as you make your way to your room. "Good night Mr. Dynamight!"

"It's Bakugo," he grumbles under his breath as you duck into your room. A laugh is all he gets in response, and your room goes dark as you finally settle into bed. His attention is caught by small meow, and he sighs before picking Pickles up and petting her. She curls up against his chest, swatting at his hand and making a pleased noise when she manages to grasp it between two of her paws. He looks down at the cat, raising a brow when she decides to start gnawing on his finger.

"Just you and me hairball."

The two of you fall into an admittedly easy routine throughout the rest of the week.

Bakugo's surprised by how easy this assignment has been. He's used to stubborn celebrities demanding to be let out, complaining and whining and overall just annoying him until he snaps and curses them out. However, you're a quiet housemate, waking up early to cook breakfast for the two of you before retreating to your room for the rest of the day or lounging on the couch with Pickles. Bakugo takes it upon himself to cook dinner for the two of you, and whoever is in charge of lunch is always decided with a coin toss. He loses more often than you do.

Pickles becomes a frequent presence as well, and sometimes he wakes up to see the cat curled up peacefully on the pillow next to him. How she gets into his room, he doesn't know. When he emerges from his room in the morning with her gathered in his arms, you apologize profusely, your stare lingering on the way his lips curl up into a tiny smile when you take her from him.

You inform Bakugo early on in the week that Anya has listened to you, canceling all of your prior engagements and sending you an updated schedule for the next week. He squints when you hold your hand out, cell phone in hand as you prompt him to take it.

"Mr. Dynamight, give me your number."

"It's Bakugo," he grumbles, pushing your hand away from him. "And why the hell would I do that?"

"So I can send you the schedule," you huff, extending your arm once again. He obliges reluctantly, purposefully taking his time in an attempt to annoy you. You don't react to his provocation, instead smiling sweetly at him when he hands your phone back and sending him the file.

When you begin to send him memes, he refuses to acknowledge you for the day.

The two of you spend days successfully planning how to keep you safe during your public appearances, your combined experience making the task easier than you thought it'd be. Your first week back out in public goes well, and even though you know better than to let your guard down, the knowledge that Pro Hero Dynamight is watching you from a distance helps to soothe your nerves. Your routine remains the same for the following week, during which there is an incident, but it turns out to be an overexcited fan. You then beg and beg Anya to book less appearances until she gets fed up with your fake crying.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you hate your job," Bakugo mutters one evening while making dinner. "You keep brushing off all your stupid engagements and you won't have a fucking career to go back to."

"Good thing you know better," you say playfully, your eyes glinting with mischief as you approach him. Your arm brushes against his back as you peek around him, your hand darting out to grab a slice of the strawberries he's cutting up to eat with lunch. He's too slow to stop you, not that he really tries to.

He finds that his original irritation towards the assignment has faded, and even though he misses being out on patrol and taking down bad guys, he thinks that this mission isn't the worst. Or maybe it's because of you. It takes Bakugo weeks to admit to himself that you're not as bad as he thought you'd be. In fact, you're not anything like what he expected you to be, all sly smiles and snarky words and casual touches that he's too embarrassed to reciprocate. But he doesn't like you, no, he doesn't.

You like to think he's getting used to your presence, but his occasional aloofness makes you think otherwise. There's a part of you, the side that's trying to ignore the reason that resulted in being assigned to a safe house in the first place, that enjoys your time spent with Bakugo. You like the way he's so easy to rile up, the way he carefully plates food for both of you, and the way he smiles when Pickles demands his attention. You think that maybe, just maybe, you might like him, even if everything else about his attitude makes you think he doesn't even tolerate you.

But you're too preoccupied with your ongoing case to really sit with your thoughts and try to sort out your feelings.

Updates from Aizawa and Midoriya are few and far between, and although you and Bakugo have fallen into a comfortable routine, you can tell that he's getting fed up with the situation. His restlessness is obvious, especially with the news talking nonstop about his sudden disappearance and speculating on the reasons why Dynamight might've stopped doing his duty as a hero.

"How long do you think this will continue?" you ask one night, sneaking a peek at him and waiting for his snarky reply.

"I dunno," he responds, sounding defeated. He sighs heavily and turns the television off.

He watches as you purse your lips and reach for his hand, pausing when he instinctively pulls away. There's a brief pause before you take a deep breath and let your hand fall on the sofa. He glances at you, eyes scanning your face as you keep staring at the blank screen, and lets his head fall back and eyes fall shut as he mentally berates himself for his actions. You head off to bed soon after, and Bakugo remains there for the rest of the night.

The next morning is quieter than usual, and the two of you are eating breakfast when there's a knock on the door. You waste no time in prancing to the entrance, reaching for the doorknob before a large hand grabs your wrist.

"Don't open the fucking door," he hisses, pulling your hand down. You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head in an innocent manner.

"Why not? It's only Midoriya."

"What?"

You reach over and open the door with your other hand, only to be met with a sunny smile from none other than Pro Hero Deku.

"Kacchan!" he exclaims, brightening up even more at the sight of his childhood friend. "I'm here to swap."

"What?" Bakugo bites out again. Midoriya's smile falters.

"Uh, swap. Places, I mean," he explains, smiling when he looks back at you. "I thought you said he asked?"

"Asked what?" Bakugo growls, his hand tighetning slightly around your arm.

"Yeah! He did," you respond just as cheerily. Bakugo goes ignored.

"Hey! Listen to me when I fucking talk to ya!"

"Come on in, we were just eating breakfast. Would you like any?" you ask. Midoriya shakes his head and you promptly wiggle your arm out of Bakugo's grasp and usher them into the living room.

"What is the shitty nerd doing here?" Bakugo yells, fed up with the situation.

"He's here to take your spot! Remember, Mr. Dynamight ?"

"I already told you, it's Bakugo," he snarls, eyes narrowing as they fall onto you. Your smile is unfaltering and equally as sunny as Izuku's was when he first arrived. He spares a glace at the other Pro Hero in the room, taking note of the way he nervously wrings his hands as he studies the two of you. He doesn't excuse himself before taking ahold of your arm once again, dragging you down the hallway and into his room before slamming the door.

You take a moment to glance around his room, your eyes narrowing when you spot Pickles curled up on his bed, before finally meeting his eyes. There's a fire in his eyes that you've only seen before when he's mid-battle, reserved for situations where his anger is at an all time high. You meet his gaze evenly, and he seems to calm down slightly when make a questioning noise.

"What the fuck was all that about?" he asks harshly, his voice low in order to not be overheard. The walls are thin, he knows this.

"I thought you'd like to return to your hero duties," you say coolly. "Y'know, patrolling and beating up baddies."

"Listen, when I agree to a job I don't plan on doing it half-assed," he retorts. He wonders if your sudden encouragement for him to leave has to do with his actions night before… and the rest of the week. He knows it does. "You're stuck with me, sweetheart, whether you like it or not. So get out there and tell Deku that you changed your mind and that I'll be seeing this task until the very end."

You don't move for a few seconds, and Bakugo's eyebrows furrow in confusion until he realizes the way you bashfully averted your gaze at the nickname. The corner of his lip tugs up into a smirk, but he doesn't get the chance to comment on it before you start speaking.

"Your reputation and ranking are tanking because of this and it's not very fair to you. Besides, nothing has happened in weeks. No letters, no gifts, no suspicious activity. I'm sure it'd be fine to switch spots with Midoriya for a couple of days. And I thought you were getting a little tired of staying in here all day. Maybe getting out and seeing your friends would do you some good."

Bakugo takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. "I already told you, I'm not leaving you until this assignment is done. Go out there, and tell Deku you changed your fucking mind."

"Yeah, about that," you say, your tone of voice causing Bakugo's eyes to fly open. There's impish smile on your face, and Bakugo feels a sense of foreboding as you speak your next words. "I might've told him that you requested the swap. So really, it's you that has to go out there and tell him you changed your mind."

You laugh and head back to the living room before Bakugo can yell at you, smiling softly at Midoriya before heading to the kitchen to clean up the abandoned plates.

Bakugo groans and begrudgingly heads to the living room, dragging Izuku by his collar and leading him to the front door.

He shuts the door in his face and provides no explanation.

Things are different after that.

Bakugo makes a bigger effort to interact with you, spending move evenings by your side instead of keeping his distance. Slowly but surely you begin to notice, and you can't help but wonder if this has anything to do with your discussion in his room the previous week.

You try not to show that you're flustered when the two of you begin to cook together instead of taking turns, and you have to admit that sharing the kitchen with Bakugo is intimate in a way you never knew cooking with somebody else could be. His movements are always fluid, never hesitant, and you find that you fall into a groove when you work alongside him.

The space is full of teasing and grumbling as well, and you find that fleeting touches between the two of you start to become more common. There's the occassional hip check when he tries to steal a piece of whatever you're chopping, and the occasional hand skimming your lower back when he tries to get past you in order to reach something. You tend to go rigid under his touch, and Bakugo finds that he starts doing it a little more often in order to hear the way your breath hitches when his fingertips skim over your shirt. He's thinks he likes you.

You’ve had the time to sit with your feelings, all the swirling uncertainty and aching that you feel weighing down on your heart when you see Bakugo present you with a new dish or scoop Pickles up when she won't stop pawing at his leg. Bakugo Katsuki is so perfectly imperfect, and you think that there's no one in the world who is privileged enough to get to see every single side of him that he has unintentionally and intentionally bared for you to see in your short time living together. You find that it is much easier to come to the conclusion that yes, you do like him. You think you might even love him.

You don't get the chance to wonder if he likes you as well before it all goes to hell.

It's a few days later, on a sunny Wednesday, that you finally come face to face with your stalker.

"Alright, you have one more meeting after this and then we can get you back home," Anya says, hurrying you you of the building you were in and towards the car. You mumble something under your breath, holding your sweater tightly to your body to protect yourself against the afternoon chill. Anya stops by your side when you stumble to a halt, and you quickly grab onto her when you hear something approaching quickly. "What's going on?"

You waste no time in pulling her back, something— someone, you vaguely think— crashing into the spot where you had just been standing.

"What the fuck?" Anya whispers, taking in the sight before you. There's a man standing in front of you, close to your age and surrounding by dark tendrils. His sharp, green eyes slide from Anya to you, and he breaks out into a smile before taking a step forward. Anya places herself in front of you, blocking you from his view and earning a harsh glare from the man. "Get the hell away from us."

You quickly scan your surroundings for any sign of Bakugo, and even though you know he's close by, you can't help but feel a little anxious when he doesn't immediately show up. A movement in your peripheral catches your attention, and you tighten your hold on Anya and dive out of the way before one of the dark tendrils shoots out and incapacitates her. The two of you crash into the side of the car, and you waste no time in opening the door and shoving her inside.

"Stay there!" you tell her, motioning for her to stop trying to open the door.

"No!" she argues, her shouts muffled by the window. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just trust me," you say reassuringly. Anya hesitates before nodding, her hands falling to her side.

"Stay safe. You better not get fucking hurt!"

You nod once, taking a glance to see your stalker getting closer before you take off in a sprint in the direction you know Bakugo is. You whip your phone out, sending quick 'SOS' to Aizawa before turning a corner. You don't bother sending your location, knowing he's probably been tracking you for years.

The sound of footsteps following you only spurs you on, and you try to think of a game plan to deal with the situation in a safe manner before you feel something wrap around your wrist. You come to a sudden stop when the tendril pulls you back, and you let out a cry when you stumble and fall to the ground, your knees knocking harshly against the concrete.

"I've been looking for you for so long," the man breathes, kneeling down to take your hand in his. You resist the urge to tear it away from him, conscious of the way the tendril seems to loosen when you relax. "I finally found you, we can finally be together."

You take a moment to study him, trying to gather your thoughts before responding. Your voice is light as you speak, and you lean forwards slightly in an attempt to make it seem like you're giving in. "We can. But you're hurting me, you know? You're quite strong, I can't believe I didn't realize it soon."

He takes the bait, retracting the tendril and almost glowing at the words that leave your lips. His lips part to respond and you waste no time in head butting him hard enough to send him sprawling. You hop to your feet, stumbling briefly when your bruised knees almost give out, but you manage to keep your balance and dodge the tendril your stalker attacks with.

"You bitch!" he screams, earning an eye roll from you as he tries to grab ahold of you once more. "I don't know why you're doing this when it's clear we're meant to be together!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say under your breath, lunging forwards to land a hit. He defends poorly, and you think that his strange obsession with you has come in handy when he refuses to strike back in fear of hurting you.

When Bakugo lands on the sidewalk in front of you mere seconds later, he's met with the sight of your stalker face down on the ground, unconscious and with hands creatively tied behind his back with your sweater as you stare at him smugly. A tired laugh leaves Bakugo's lips and he wastes no time in removing the sweater, slapping on a pair of quirk canceling handcuff onto your stalker and moving to lean him up against the building behind you.

"Took you long enough," you chirp, earning a glare from Bakugo.

"I can't believe you were stupid enough to go after your stalker," he states, his words reminiscent of the ones he said when he first met you. "Actually, scratch that. Yeah, I fucking can."

"Well it's not like you were doing anything," you retort, crossing your arms. "Where were you?"

"I had it under control," he barks, motioning to the area around you. You take note of Midoriya standing on a rooftop, a couple of detectives scattered down the street as they wait for Bakugo's all clear.

"Oh!"

"What happened here?"

You turn when you see Aizawa approaching, eyes tired but alert as they scan you for injuries. You beam at him, pointing towards the unsconscious criminal before gesturing to yourself to show that you're fine, other than your bruised knees. "See! I told you I could handle myself."

"Yes, I suppose you did," is all he says before turning to Bakugo. He's caught off guard when Aizawa bows deeply. "I'm eternally thankful, Bakugo. You did a great job, even if it turned out we didn't need your help after all."

The last statement is said mockingly, and you pout when Aizawa shoots you a pointed look. You ignore it in favor of turning to Bakugo, bowing as well.

"I already told you, don't gimme that shit," he spits out, crossing his arms when you straighten up and give him a shit-eating grin.

"I just wanted to give you my thanks," you say, a teasing lilt to your voice as you take a step forward. Aizawa grunts before walking away, shaking his head as he goes. "Although I suppose that there are other—"

"You're safe!"

Anya's screams interrupt you, and you give Bakugo an apologetic look as she pulls you away, fussing over you and bending down to clean off your knees. You smile fondly as she shoves a water bottle into your hand, stealing one last glance at Bakugo before he's whisked away by the detectives to make a statement.

A week passes and Bakugo hasn't stopped thinking about you.

He wonders how often he'd get to see you now that he's not watching over you, grimacing when he realizes that he'd probably only see you at hero galas and community fundraisers that might overlap with both of your schedules. The two of you have exchanged a few messages since the mission ended, lot of memes being sent from your end that make Bakugo laugh, not that he'd ever admit it.

He's wondering if he should build up the courage to be more direct with you, to possibly follow up on how you could thank him and then ask you out on a date when he hears a knock on his door.

"Hey!" you greet him when he opens the door, bright smile on your face as you shove a bag into his hands. "I hope you don't mind but I got your address form Aizawa. I was thinking I could cook you dinner, you know, as a thank you."

His jaw is hanging as he takes you in, and you snicker when he doesn't respond.

"Hey, what's wrong? Pickles got your tongue?" you laugh at your own joke, and Bekugo snaps his jaw shut at the words, ushering you in and shutting the door behind you.

"That was a shitty joke."

"Eh, can't expect everyone to get my sense of humor."

He shakes his head fondly as he follows you into his kitchen, and you take the bag you previously pushed into his arms and place it on the counter. You look at him expectantly raising an eyebrow teasingly as he takes a step closer.

"So this dinner,” he starts, tone casual as he drinks you in. “Is it a date?"

"Do you want it to be?" you respond. Your voice is quiet and light, and he finds himself crowding you against the counter, arms on either side of you as he cages you in. You're vaguely reminded of the time the two of you argued in his room at the safe house, the only difference being the look in his eyes. Where there was anger that day, this time you see nothing but an unfamiliar tenderness, eyes warm as he mulls his answer over.

"Yeah," he says roughly, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you look at him in mild surprise. "I do want it to be."

“I didn’t think you’d admit it,” you retort. The smile he receives in return is almost blinding, but he feels that familiar sense of foreboding when you suddenly give him a coy look and wrap your arms around his neck.

"So... does this mean I'm... Mrs. Dynamight?" you ask innocently.

"Shut the fuck up," he groans before finally leaning down to silence your giggles with a kiss.

ty for reading <3

[kittenintheden]

The reason this reveal, the unmasking of this particular man, hit so hard for so many is because his work is the kind of thing that makes you feel like you can be better. It's inventive and fantastical, and many connected because it understood the human heart so well. They were stories of humor, hope, love, pain, and overcoming.

Those words became part of us. We loved it so much because we saw ourselves as the kind of brave, singular person who could stop an apocalypse just by being ourselves. Because those are the kinds of characters he wrote.

He. Understands. People.

That's. How. He. Got. Away. With. This.

He understood someone like me so well that he knew the exact kind of character I would connect and respond to, the exact sort of person I wanted to be when it came down to the wire. Brave, clever, loved.

Do you understand, now? Do you understand why this threw so many into emotional turmoil? Because it was just revealed that a person who gave us every single reason to believe in goodness has just been revealed to be not only a fake, but an abhorrent, abusive, horrifying monster of the sort that make the villains in his stories look tame.

He knows how heroes act and he chose to be a villain.

It's unbelievably emotionally disorienting.

I’m not naming names because I’m not trying to start anything but I’m seeing several mutuals claiming they always knew Gaiman was a bad egg and it was so obvious, as though they didn’t make me stand in line with them to get his signature and kept their signed copies of his books on a special shelf akin to a shrine.

And like, listen, you don’t need to pretend.

This isn’t the devil’s sacrament. You’re not tainted by association. You’re not morally bad for not immediately knowing when someone is being charming and persuasive to hide something they don’t want you to know.

Abusers don’t just groom their victims. They groom their witnesses too. You were never supposed to know something was wrong because it was intentionally hidden. It’s okay you didn’t know. You don’t need to act like you never liked him or his work. You don’t need to pretend. But you do need to stop being shitty to other people who also didn’t know because it reeks of victim blaming.

“Well I knew, so how come others didn’t?”

His victims were fans. Are you blaming them for not knowing?

Christ alive, I hope not.

[theelmoarchive]

I just finished listening to The Suckening ☹️ like this very minute. I don't know what to do anymore. I need them back eufgggh urggh i love them so muchhh,,,

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything IX

The 9th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I'm back for good this time cos I bailed out of my trash job of 6 years hello mferssss

Warning: Graphic Language, Graphic description of violence

You’d been thinking about your past more often than usual, especially on the nights that you lay staring at your ceiling. Saint told you that it was a sign that you’d begun to move on. The villain that had consumed your thoughts was now a tentative ally and you’d been left with history seeping through the cracks. 

You were almost grateful. 

Almost. 

You thought about your career before the incident, about the missions that went impossibly wrong. Death, grief, sorrow, hatred, and guilt, they weren’t things that you experienced alone. Shared pain eased the blow- you weren’t the only one suffering and, in a way, that provided comfort. 

However, the mission that truly plagued you was a mission so highly classified that there were only four people who still knew of it. There were only four people who survived it. 

“You and me, Birdy. 

We’re dead.”

You sat up in your bed, mind kicking into overdrive. The dim light on your wrist indicated that it was well past midnight but your blood was electrified.

You’d been so preoccupied with what had happened to you that you’d stopped thinking about what you’d done. Why had someone tried to kill you, you had to have done something. You had to have known something. 

“We’re dead.”

You pulled your duvet from your body, the cool air washing against your skin to make it prickle. Winter was, by far, the worst month to live on base. The heating units in your block were terrible and outdated with the empty promise of upgrades. You slid into your slippers and ventured into the hallway, palms rubbing up and down the length of your arms. 

Your feet were on auto-pilot as they led you to the door of the last person you’d expect to seek out. There was no light seeping out from beneath cracks and you couldn’t hear a sound from inside. He might not have even been home, it was a Saturday night after all- no one was in. Not even Simon, and that was saying something. 

You shifted your weight on your heels, wincing when the floorboard creaked under the pressure. It couldn’t hurt to knock. Or it could, you supposed. You had no idea why you were here, knocking on his door at 2am in the morning was unhinged behaviour.  

You took a step back from the door, another creak betraying your position. This was a dumb idea. You could talk to him in the morning like a normal, functioning human being would. 

The door swung open suddenly, forcing your heart into your throat. 

König’s hulking silhouette filled the frame, shadowed and imposing. He barely fit through the door as he stepped into the corridor, the dim warmth of the ceiling fixtures washing over his figure. 

You quickly realised that he’d been asleep as you took in his visage. Sleep tousled hair, a vulnerable gaze, König stood before you shirtless in long tracksuit pants. You forced your eyes to remain fixed to his face as he looked you up and down. 

“Birdy?” He rasped, scrubbing his face lazily with one hand, the other resting on his hip. “Why are you lurking at my door?” 

Indignant heat crawled from your neck and into your cheeks. “I wasn’t lurking, I was about to knock.” 

König narrowed his eyes, silently telling you that he knew you were lying. You changed the topic, crossing your arms defensively. 

“I just wanted to talk about something, I didn’t realise how late it was.” You cast a glance down the hall where you’d come from. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, we can talk in the morning.” 

As you turned to leave, hot with embarrassment, König sighed. 

“Birdy.” He called. 

You peeked at him tentatively from over your shoulder. 

The man opened his door and gestured inside. Your breath hitched in your throat, the room behind him was dark. That jade gaze watched you tiredly but with intent. He wasn’t going anywhere with you, this time you would have to come to him. 

“Are you sure?” You asked quietly. 

You received a nod in reply. 

With a sharp breath and squared shoulders, you wandered cautiously into the lion’s den. Your bare skin brushed against his waist as you passed him, sending a thrill down the length of your spine.

A floor lamp turned on behind you, flooding the room in a warm, sensual glow. You barely heard the door click shut, you were too busy taking in the room before you. It was nothing like you’d been expecting, furnished and decorated with a surprising attention to detail.

The room smelt lightly fragrant, as though incense was lit frequently enough to linger. You caught sight of candles on the desk to your left, ‘cedar wood and myrrh’. That would do it. 

The corner of your lip quirked upward at his library/gaming corner. A dark wood shelving unit housed a plethora of his books and a gaming console, then a flat screen mounted in the centre. Bean bags were neatly organised atop a dark rug, you figured they would be more comfortable for him than an inevitably too small couch. 

A game was still playing on the screen, the character standing inactive in their own world. 

“Were you playing?” You turned to look at König, who seemed very suddenly uncomfortable.

“No,” he cleared his throat and cast his gaze to the floor. “No, I fell asleep while playing.”

Your eyes were drawn to the bed last.

“That’s a big bed.” You don’t know why you said it. 

“I’m a big guy.” Was the reply. 

The bed was tall, something you would have to climb onto if it were your own. There was a large, dark wooden headboard pressed against the back wall, framing the bed like it was the main feature of the room. Dark silk pillows adorned the matching silk bed sheets, and you could only imagine how comfortable they would be on your skin. 

You turned to face König who had put a shirt on somewhere amidst your gawking at his home. 

“I didn’t think your room would be so…” You trailed off, gesturing at the space around you. 

“Delicate?” He offered, self deprecation ringing through his tone. 

“Nice,” you finished. “I was going to say nice.”

A small smile finally graced his lips, the first one you’d seen all night. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have thought he sounded self-conscious about the space he’d designed. 

“I spend a lot of time here,” he shrugged as he offered you a beanbag. “I wanted it to be… nice.”

You took a seat, sighing as the tension in your body dissipated instantly. König stretched those long legs out as he got comfortable atop his own bag across from you. 

“Why don’t you get out more, there’s plenty to do around here,” you mused. 

König chuckled darkly, “people don’t like me very much around here, Birdy.”

The mood dampened at that, the energy in the room shifting. His green gaze had lost the softness that you’d almost grown accustomed to, becoming guarded instead. You wish you’d just held your tongue. 

“What did you want to talk about?” König asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You swallowed thickly, bracing yourself for another shift of his attitude- this time to anger. You weren’t afraid of his frustration, not anymore. God knows that you’d seen enough of it directed at you to know that you were physically safe. Despite that knowledge you still hated seeing it with every fiber of your being. 

“I want to tell you about a mission I did a while back,” you said shakily. “Then I want you to help me figure out whether it might be connected to everything that’s… happened.” 

König’s eyes narrowed, darting to the door and back. He stood to his feet quickly and you flinched as he brushed past you. You turned to look over your shoulder at him, surely he wasn’t walking out of his own room. 

“I thought we agreed to drop it,” he growled beneath his breath and you weren’t sure whether he was talking to himself or you. He was rummaging through his desk irritatedly, muttering as he worked.  “Of course you didn’t drop it. Why would you? Let’s all die together!” 

Soft music began to play and you raised your eyebrows as he placed a speaker against the door. 

“What, are you setting the mood?” You snarked, settling back into your bag as he returned to his. He shot you a withering glare. 

“It’s so that no one hears us as you, once again, try to get us killed by talking about this on base.” He hissed, propping himself up. 

You rolled your eyes at him but you knew he was right. It would be more suspicious if the both of you had gone on an excursion into town together, you’d have all eyes on you. There weren’t many places for you to approach him about information but it seems all the places you have were wrong. 

“Tell me about the mission,” he sighed though his nose. The frown lines on his forehead softening as you nodded.

“This mission was, and is, highly classified. You cannot tell a soul about this.” You warned, watching him earnestly. It was König’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Yes, I will try my hardest to not tell all of my best friends in the 141.” 

You shot him a withering glare. 

“Fine,” he groaned. “Obviously I will not tell anybody, Birdy.” 

You nodded, satisfied with his response, before launching into the details of the mission.

-

“Alpha 1-1 to Bravo 1, SITREP, over.”

“Bravo 1 in position, green status, over.” 

“Bravo 1, maintain position. Payload incoming. Alpha 1-1 out. 

You drew a deep breath, taking in the view a final time beyond the scope of your rifle. You’d perched up on the high ground, neatly hidden between wiry bushes and dirt mounds. The U.S forward operating base, its entrance, and the arterial road in, were all at your mercy. 

Your mission was to provide cover for a high value payload and offer additional defense to the U.S FOB while it received. For a black bag operation it was deceptively simple. Then again, you had no idea what the payload was. You’d been told that the objective was to protect a Shadow Company squad while they  “delivered the milk.”

You weren’t important enough to be privy to more than that. 

A dust trail in the distance indicated the payload’s approach and you set to work. Thermal imaging provided you a clear picture of the incoming convoy as it cleared the crest. To your alarm there were only three vehicles before you, for such precious cargo you thought that there’d be a larger security detail. 

There was a civilian blocking the route ahead of them that you’d raised concern about prior. U.S soldiers had been dispatched from the base to remove him but were thus far unsuccessful. Your stomach tightened as the convoy slowed to a halt 350 yards from your position. 

As one of the Shadow members dismounted their vehicle you couldn’t shake your rising paranoia. You felt the hairs on your arms raise and your skin prickle- a sniper’s sixth sense. You turned your sights to the crest the convoy had appeared from. 

There was something very, very wrong. 

You watched the crest carefully, praying that you were paranoid. 

But, you never were. 

“Sierra 1, contact rear, near ambush!” 

No sooner than the callout had left your lips, the incoming vehicles opened fire. 

Chaos erupted the way it usually did in war. The screams, the callouts falling on deaf ears, the gunfire- it all blurred, really. The only thing you could truly hear was your own breath. Every inhale was steady and your heart followed in suit, a steadfast sniper was the most accurate. 

And there was a reason that you were the best. 

One by one they fell. Amidst the cloud of moon dust and the flurried movements you could see everything, and everyone, as clear as day. The floor was littered with bodies, men from both sides ironically meeting the same end.

A blinding flash forced your eyes shut as your scope lit up. The explosion rocked the earth beneath your stomach and you knew then that the fight was lost. An RPG blast had ended it all in an instant, obliterating the men you were protecting. Limbs, shrapnel, and wreckage were all that remained of Shadow Squad.

Your teeth were clenched tight enough to cramp your jaw. You couldn’t get a shot with the enemy operators hidden behind the cargo. 

“Bravo 1, don’t let them take that fucking payload!”

Shepherd's voice was desperate, a growing hysteria that you’d never heard from him before. 

“I don’t have a shot,” you ground out through your teeth. 

Between Graves and Shepherd barking half-baked orders down the line, there was little coherency.

The mission objective was a monumental failure and an unjustifiable amount of lives had been lost that day, along with the payload. There was only one survivor of the ground assault, a blessing in itself. Dipaolo had been knocked unconscious in his vehicle after the RPG explosion and assumed dead by the enemy. 

You had tried to talk to Dipaolo briefly while waiting for your transport home. He’d been mumbling to himself dazedly in the back corner of the medical room for hours when you approached him. 

“Dipaolo?...” You trailed off. The man had lost his entire squad in one hit, he’d woken up to their blood on his face and their limbs scattered across the dirt. No amount of experience can give you the right words to say to a man like that.

His hazel gaze met yours, distant and tired. 

“What have we done?” He whispered. 

Your tongue dried in your mouth and you could only stare at him in response. You’d failed is what you’d done. You’d failed this man and his men and you couldn’t protect them. 

“We’re so fucked,” he shook his head. “We are so fucked.”

“What-” you’d barely choked out the word before he grabbed your wrist roughly. You yelped as Dipaolo pulled you in close, the smell of sweat and blood on his skin. He reeked of death.

“Do you know what we’ve fucking done, Birdy?” The Shadow hissed through gritted teeth as you tugged uselessly against his grip. “Do you know what we just fucking gave them?” 

“Let go,” you rasped. Panic began to rise in your chest when his gaze turned hysterical. 

The door behind you flung open but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the man before you. His grip tightened as he flicked his sights to the medics entering the room. 

“Do you know what we’ve done, Birdy? Do you know what we gave them?” His words blurred together desperately. “We’re fucked! You hear me?” 

“Woah, woah, woah!” Relief flooded your chest as the returning medic inserted himself between you and the crumbling soldier. “Let’s just back up for a second.” 

You ripped your arm from his grip and immediately turned to leave, your skin burning where you’d been detained. You tried to tune out Dipaolo's screams as you left the room but this wasn’t a battlefield and you had no rifle- you heard it all. 

“We are dead!” The Shadow’s voice broke from behind you. “You and me, Birdy, we’re dead!”

-

König’s face was stony as he leaned back into his seat. 

The silence following your story was heavy and your mouth was dry. You couldn’t remember the last time that you’d spoken so much in one sitting. 

“Birdy,” König mused, “when was that mission?” 

“A while back, a few months I’d say,” it was a rough estimate. “I’d have to check my dates.”

König shook his head, green eyes flashing with alarm. “How long did it happen before our… incident?” 

You blinked slowly, taking in a deep breath. Your heart dropped to your stomach and it was as though König knew what you were going to say before you said it. 

“It was the last mission I had…” you trailed off shakily. You felt like you were going to vomit. 

König’s eyes hardened as he voiced the realization that you had both come to. 

“It was the last mission you did before I was sent to kill you, Birdy.” 

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

Peter has been through a lot. He’s fought villains, lost people he’s loved, and carried the weight of responsibility since he was a kid. But nothing—not Venom, not Doctor Octopus, not the Green Goblin—has ever hit him as hard as opening his phone and seeing you.

He’s perched upside-down on a fire escape, mid-stakeout with Daredevil, when his phone buzzes. He barely glances at it at first, assuming it’s an update from MJ or the Bugle. But then—his Spidey-Sense misfires. His stomach drops. And suddenly, he’s scrambling so fast that he almost falls off the fire escape.

“...Parker?” Matt’s voice is suspicious, brow furrowing beneath the red mask. Peter clutches his phone like a lifeline, heat rushing to his face, his entire body going rigid. “Uh—nope! Nothing’s wrong! Totally fine! Just, uh—gotta—go!” Before Matt can say another word, Peter web-slings away, heart pounding.

Later, in his apartment, he stares at the image, biting his lip so hard he might draw blood. Then, fumbling with his phone, he types back: You cannot just drop this on me in the middle of a mission. I almost DIED. You’re gonna make it up to me. In person. Immediately.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

Tony Stark is always the one making people flustered. He’s the king of inappropriate timing, the grandmaster of chaos. So when you flip the game on him? When you send him something completely indecent while he’s in the middle of a live press conference? Oh, he is in trouble.

He’s mid-sentence, standing in front of a sea of reporters, when his phone vibrates. He glances at it without thinking, because hey, it might be about stock prices or another alien invasion. But no. No, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

He visibly freezes. Blinks. Blanches. Then—his brain blue screens. The entire room stares as Tony suddenly cuts off mid-sentence, clears his throat, and forces a smirk that’s absolutely not covering up a crisis. “Uh—ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough questions for today.”

The moment he’s offstage, he stumbles into the nearest private room, yanks at his tie, and pulls out his phone like it holds the meaning of life. He types back immediately: Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart. I hope you’re home right now, because I’m on my way, and I’m bringing consequences.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

Steve is not a prude. He’s been around, he’s seen things. But there’s something about you—about the way you know exactly how to knock the breath from his lungs—that makes him feel like a kid again.

He’s in the middle of a strategy meeting with Sam and Bucky, his shield leaning against the table, when his phone vibrates. He checks it without thinking, eyes flicking down—and then every muscle in his body tenses. His grip on the phone tightens. His ears burn red.

“You good, Rogers?” Bucky gives him a knowing smirk, because he immediately recognizes that look—Steve flustered beyond belief. Steve clears his throat, hard, locking his phone like it’s offended him. “Fine,” he says, voice a little too even. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”

But later, when he’s alone, he exhales deeply, pressing a hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, with slow deliberation, he types: I hope you know what you just started. Because I don’t break my promises, sweetheart. And I promise—you’re not leaving that bed when I get there.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

Thor has seen battles, has waged wars across the cosmos, has faced monsters and gods. But when his phone pings—when he sees the absolute sin that you’ve just sent him—he forgets how to breathe.

He is in the middle of the Avengers’ common room, laughing boisterously with Bruce and Natasha, when he pulls out his phone. He expects something simple—a text from his brother, perhaps, or a message from Jane. But instead? Instead, he sees you.

The entire room feels it when Thor’s laughter stops. There is a moment—just a beat of silence—before the lights flicker. The air crackles with static electricity. His fingers twitch around the phone, and then, in a low, very serious voice, he mutters, “By the Norns…”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, but Thor abruptly stands, clearing his throat. “I must depart. Urgently.” Bruce frowns. “What? Why?” Thor barely offers an explanation before storming out of the room, typing furiously: You dare tempt the God of Thunder? Very well, little one. You shall learn what it means to summon a storm.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

Loki is the undisputed master of control. He is calm, composed, always one step ahead of everyone else. But when you send him something so shameless, so brazen, in the middle of an important diplomatic event in Asgard—he nearly drops his goblet of wine.

He’s reclining on his throne, listening to some dull ambassador drone on about trade negotiations, when his phone vibrates. He lifts it lazily, expecting nothing of importance—until he sees you.

His entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around the goblet, the silver denting beneath his fingers. His green eyes darken, and for the first time in centuries, he feels his pulse stutter. The ambassador keeps talking, oblivious, but Loki? Loki is seething.

Later, in his chambers, he lounges on his bed, turning the phone over in his fingers before smirking. Then, with slow, careful precision, he types: You dare tease the God of Mischief? Oh, darling, you are in such trouble. And you know how much I enjoy trouble.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

Clint Barton is used to chaos. He’s fought alien invasions, taken down crime syndicates, and, most impressively, lived in a house with three dogs and somehow survived. But nothing—not the Avengers, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not even Kate Bishop’s endless sarcasm—could have prepared him for this.

He’s in the middle of a debriefing with Captain America and Black Widow when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it, but boredom gets the better of him. He sneaks a glance, tilting the screen just slightly—and immediately chokes on his coffee.

“Barton?” Natasha’s voice is sharp, her suspicious gaze snapping to him. Steve looks concerned. Clint, on the other hand, is malfunctioning. He quickly locks his phone, pressing it to his thigh like it’s burning him. “Yep. All good. Just… wrong text thread. You know how it is.”

The second he’s alone, he whistles, rubbing a hand down his face before sending a text: You are absolutely trying to kill me, aren’t you? I’m a trained marksman, babe. You know I always hit my target. Hope you’re ready.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

Natasha Romanoff is a professional. She’s endured psychological conditioning, trained with the deadliest assassins in the world, and can lie so well that even she forgets what’s real. But when you send her something so utterly filthy, in the middle of a high-stakes poker game with some very dangerous people—she nearly loses her composure.

She’s holding a perfect poker face, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette between her fingers (purely for effect). Then, her phone buzzes. She never checks her phone during missions, but for some reason, she does this time.

The second she sees the image, her fingers twitch. She almost fumbles her cigarette. Almost. A single slow breath is all that betrays her before she locks the screen and smirks, adjusting her sunglasses to hide the flicker of heat in her gaze.

Later, after she’s won the game (because of course she has), she finally responds: You must be very confident, sending me something like that. I hope you know what happens when I catch my prey, моя любовь (my love). Because I always catch them.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

Bucky is already always on edge. He spent decades being controlled, his mind fractured, his instincts constantly telling him that danger lurks around every corner. But when his phone vibrates in the middle of a mission briefing and he makes the mistake of checking it—he nearly self-destructs.

He’s sitting next to Sam Wilson, arms crossed, trying to focus on the tactical discussion. Then, out of habit, he glances at his phone. And suddenly? His enhanced heartbeat spikes. His grip on the phone tightens, metal fingers creaking.

Sam immediately notices. “Dude. You okay?” Bucky doesn’t answer. He just exhales deeply, jaw clenching, and locks his phone like it’s personally offended him. “Fine,” he mutters, but the way his throat bobs betrays him.

Later, in the privacy of his room, he leans against the wall, pressing his flesh hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, he types—slow, deliberate, full of promise: You are playing with fire, doll. And you know I don’t burn alone.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

Matt has learned to control himself. He has to, considering his senses pick up everything. The heartbeat of a liar, the scent of blood, the whisper of fabric against skin. But when he puts in his earpiece during a stakeout with Elektra and hears you—sultry, teasing, wicked—his composure shatters.

Your voice is a purr, warm and full of amusement, as you describe, in explicit detail, exactly what you want to do to him. Every syllable slides into his ear like a sin, and for the first time in years, Matt Murdock forgets how to breathe.

“Murdock.” Elektra’s voice is unimpressed. “Are you even listening?” Matt clenches his jaw, forcing his expression into something neutral as he slowly removes the earpiece. “Yeah,” he lies, his voice way too tight. “Loud and clear.” But his fingers twitch, betraying him.

Later, alone in his apartment, he plays the message again. And again. Until his own heartbeat is thunderous in his ears. Then, with a slow smirk, he records his reply—his voice low, gravelly, barely more than a rasp: Angel, you have no idea what you’ve just done. And I promise—you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

Frank Castle does not fluster. He’s a man who’s seen the worst of the world, a soldier who has lost everything. He does not get distracted. But when he’s sitting in the middle of a grimy bar, brooding over a whiskey, and his phone vibrates—everything stops.

He checks it absently, expecting intel from Micro or maybe a warning from Daredevil. But instead, he gets you. And just like that, his grip on the glass tightens. His jaw locks. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, because you have just sent him something so utterly indecent that he has to set his whiskey down before he crushes the glass.

The bartender notices. “You good, man?” Frank barely glances up, his fingers white-knuckled around his phone. “Fine,” he mutters, voice rough. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Later, in the dead of night, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, before sending a single message: You think you’re real cute, huh? Yeah. Keep that same energy when I get home. See if you’re still smirking when I’ve got my hands on you.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

Marc has lived multiple lives. A mercenary. A vigilante. A fist of vengeance. But the moment his phone vibrates in the middle of a stakeout, and he sees you—he nearly blows his own cover.

He’s perched on a rooftop, watching a weapons deal go down, his mind sharp and focused. Then, out of habit, he checks his phone. His breath hitches. His grip tightens around the device, and he has to physically restrain himself from groaning. Khonshu’s voice rumbles in his mind: "Your mortal desires are distracting, Spector." Marc grits his teeth. "Yeah, no shit."

“Something wrong?” Jake’s voice purrs from inside his head, amused. “She send you something nice, hermano?” Marc rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply before locking his phone. “Mind your damn business.” But his pulse is thundering.

Later, back at his apartment, he leans against the wall, staring at the image before typing: You have no idea what you’ve just done. Hope you’re home. Hope you’re ready.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

Johnny Storm is used to attention. He thrives on it. He’s a celebrity, a hero, a walking flame. But when you send him something scandalous in the middle of a live television interview, even he isn’t ready for it.

He’s laughing, flashing his signature cocky grin at the camera, when his phone buzzes. He checks it without thinking—because hey, it might be Sue yelling at him again—but instead, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

Johnny visibly chokes. His entire body tenses. For the first time ever, he forgets what he was saying. The interviewer blinks. “Uh… Johnny?” His brain short-circuits. His face heats—literally. The tips of his ears ignite before he clenches his fists and forces himself to not spontaneously combust on live television.

The second the interview is over, he’s sprinting to his dressing room, slamming the door shut and typing frantically: Ohhh, you are in trouble. You’re really trying to set me on fire, huh? Hope you’re home, babe, ‘cause I’m flying over. Right. Now.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

Reed Richards is a genius. His mind is constantly working at speeds beyond human comprehension. But when he’s mid-lecture at a prestigious scientific conference and his phone vibrates—his brilliant mind suddenly goes blank.

He absently checks his phone, half-expecting an alert from the Baxter Building. But instead, it’s you. Wearing almost nothing.

For a solid ten seconds, he is frozen. His eyes slightly widen. His fingers twitch. And then, very slowly, he locks his phone and clears his throat. “Ah—excuse me, esteemed colleagues, but I must—um—attend to an urgent matter.”

Later, he adjusts his glasses, staring at the image with a fascinated, almost scientific appreciation. Then, with methodical precision, he types: You are a very distracting woman. I will be conducting an… in-depth study on you as soon as I return. Expect a thorough examination.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

Felicia Hardy is a master of seduction. She flusters men for fun. But when she’s in the middle of a high-stakes casino heist, and you send her something utterly indecent, even she loses her composure.

She’s leaning against the bar, sipping an expensive martini, eyes locked on her mark. Then, her phone buzzes. She lazily checks it, expecting an update from her crew. But instead? Instead, she sees you.

Her eyelashes flutter. Her lips part just slightly. And for the first time in years, her poker face cracks. The bartender—oblivious—raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay, miss?” Felicia exhales, smirking as she locks her phone. “Oh, it’s better than okay.”

Later, she lounges on silk sheets, staring at the picture before purring into her phone: You really think you can tease me, kitten? Oh, sweetheart… you just made a very expensive bet. And I never lose.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

Stephen Strange is not easily shaken. He’s fought cosmic horrors, bent reality, and wielded power beyond mortal comprehension. But when he’s in the middle of a magical duel with Dormammu, and you send him a sinfully explicit picture—he almost loses.

He’s mid-incantation, floating above the Sanctum’s rooftop, when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it—except something in the back of his mind tells him it’s you. He flicks his fingers, glancing at the screen—and immediately regrets it.

His spell stutters. His fingers twitch. The fabric of reality briefly warps. Wong, standing below, yells, “What the hell was that?!” Stephen clenches his jaw, locking his phone immediately before snapping his wrist and repairing the timeline. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Absolutely nothing.”

The moment the battle is over, he retreats into his study, loosening his Cloak, before typing: You dare distract the Sorcerer Supreme? You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, darling. And I do hope you’re prepared for consequences beyond mortal comprehension.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

Namor is a king. He does not answer to anyone. He has waged war against the surface world, stood against the mightiest heroes, and commands the loyalty of an entire empire. But when he is seated on his throne, discussing politics with his council, and his communicator vibrates—everything else becomes irrelevant.

He glances down, expecting a diplomatic missive. Instead, he is greeted by you—a vision of temptation, captured in a way that only he has the privilege to see. His grip on the communicator tightens, his lips parting slightly. The light of the display reflects in his dark, narrowed eyes.

The council drones on, but Namor hears nothing. His golden gauntlets flex, his knuckles tightening as his jaw sets. A slow, deliberate exhale is all that betrays his reaction. But those closest to him—his most trusted generals—see the flicker of something dangerous in his expression. A storm, barely contained.

Later, as he stands upon his balcony, overlooking the endless ocean, he types a single response: You seek to tempt a king, my love? Then be prepared for the wrath of a god. When next we meet, you will drown in my devotion.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

Johnny Blaze has seen Hell—literally. He has ridden across the desolate highways of damnation, stared into the abyss, and laughed. But when he’s sitting in a biker bar, nursing a whiskey and half-listening to some guy ramble about the Devil, his phone vibrates. And when he checks it—he nearly sets the whole place on fire.

The image of you is burned into his mind, seared into his soul. He sucks in a slow breath through his teeth, his fingers tightening around the glass. His knuckles go white. Somewhere deep inside, the Spirit of Vengeance chuckles.

“Something wrong, Blaze?” One of the other bikers eyes him warily. Johnny forces a smirk, setting his whiskey down before he crushes the glass in his grip. “Nah,” he rasps, his voice a little too rough. “Just realized I got… unfinished business to take care of.”

Later, on his Hellfire-coated bike, he sends a text: You got a real bad habit of making me wanna sin, sweetheart. And I promise—I’ll make sure you repent. Over. And over.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

Eddie Brock has been through hell. He’s fought monsters, been one himself, lost everything, and still kept going. But nothing—not a damn thing—could prepare him for the absolute carnage of getting that picture from you in the middle of a crowded subway.

He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, Venom muttering in his head about wanting tater tots, when the image loads. For a solid five seconds, he is completely still. Then—

“Eddie.” Venom’s voice rumbles, amused. “Your mate is very… bold. We approve.” Eddie, red-faced, slams his phone against his chest like that’ll somehow erase what just happened. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw. A teenager across from him raises an eyebrow.

Later, when he’s alone, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he types back: Oh, you think you’re being cute, huh? Yeah. Just wait till I get my hands on you. Hell, maybe we’ll even let Venom have a little fun, too.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

T’Challa is a king, a warrior, a legend. His mind is a fortress, his will unshakable. But when he is seated in the royal palace of Wakanda, surrounded by dignitaries, and his Kimoyo Beads alert him to a personal message—his focus wavers.

He allows himself a discreet glance. And in that moment? His heart skips a single beat. His fingers—steady even in the heat of battle—tighten just slightly around his beads. His expression does not change. But to those who know him well—Okoye, Shuri—they notice the subtlest flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.

Shuri smirks. “Brother,” she murmurs, leaning in. “You look… distracted.” T’Challa exhales deeply, locking the message with a casual flick of his fingers. “I am merely… anticipating a conversation.”

Later, when he is alone, he reviews the picture once more, fingers grazing his jaw before he types: You are testing my patience, beloved. And you know I am a man of great discipline. But for you? I am willing to break my own rules. Expect me soon.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

Elektra Natchios does not fluster. She has slit the throats of kings, danced on the edge of oblivion, and played cat-and-mouse with death itself. But when she is sharpening her sai on the rooftop of a New York high-rise and her phone buzzes—her grip falters.

The blade nicks her glove. Barely. But it happens. Her lips part in a slow, dangerous smirk as she tilts the phone toward the moonlight, drinking in the absolute audacity of your message.

“Something amusing?” A voice—a rival assassin, lurking in the shadows. Elektra does not answer. She merely tucks her phone away, standing smoothly, her stance lethal. “Yes,” she purrs. “Something… very amusing.”

Later, as she leans against the window of her penthouse, she finally sends a reply: You are so very reckless, my love. And I do enjoy breaking reckless little things.

[skadoodle-with-extra-ification]

Tango from @watcheraurora's fic: King's Tide!

HIGHLY recommend this fic!!! Honestly WatcherAurora is one of my favorite ranchers writers EVER!!!

Tango's showing off his amazing swimming skills for his pretty human lol wheeee backflips!

[winterpower98]

THESE TWO PRINCESSES TOOK ME A STUPID AMOUNT OF TIME TO REDESIGN

You know me, I love a good trope. And I really like it when royal characters look uncanny valley from their subjects. And that idea was my downfall here. I redesigned Celestial no less than six times before I settled on something that I liked. And of the two sisters, she's my least favorite!

I am not touching these two anymore. If I do, kill me on sight.

Alright bye

The main 6 Cadence and Shining Armor Evil girls Villains The kids Sombra & Radiant Hope

BTW have the first ugly ass version of them that I made I don't remember how long ago

[gothamite-rambler]

Duke Thomas when he found out about the "Test" performed on Tim and he sticking up for his buddy/brother along with his other brothers.

Duke (on comms during a mission): When I see you stand by Selina, I believe you see two bad bitches. I believe you don't like women, it's real competition, you might pop ass with 'em.

Batman (exhausted): Excuse me?

Duke (rapping): Let's speak on percentage, show me your splits, I'll make sure I double back with you. You were signed to a trigga that's signed to a trigga that said he was signed to that trigga.

Jason and Dick listening in are too stunned to speak.

Barbara (eating cheese puffs while working, impressed): Nice switch up there.

Batman (enraged, gritted teeth): Oh, you are not doing this! I already have to deal with the others doing-

Duke (rapping with ease while decking a goon in the face): Put your eldest son through hurtles, you're a douche bag. Throwing a weapon at your second son's next, that's a jackass move. And putting the third to a test, that's hoe shit-

Duke (interrupting while rapping, enjoying this): You got a son to raise, but I can see you don't know nothin' 'bout that. Wakin' him up, know nothin' 'bout that. And tell him to pray, know nothin' 'bout that. And givin' him tools to walk through life like day-by-day, know nothin' 'bout that-

Batman (shouting to the point it startles the villains in front him): ALRIGHT I GET IT!

Jason: Nah, he's not finish yet.

Dick (in the corniest way, bless his heart): Let him cook.

Tim (amused): We may have... Told Duke stories about you while his arm was healing.

Duke: Yeah and it's good thing Robin isn't on patrol for the night, I was holding this in. I respect you B, but you... I'm tired! What did these boys do to you? Huh? Huh?!

Dick covered his mouth, smiling but also shocked. Jason was laughing. Tim smiled while on patrol with Duke.

Batman: I said... I was sorry! And I am not a bad bitch! I'm Batman!

Barbara (joining in): Bitch Man.

Batman: He's only acting like this because I said Castlevania is dumb! Which it is! That's just my personal opinion!

Tim: B ... You sent him a PowerPoint as to why it's bad.

Duke (shouting): Castlevania isn't a stupid anime just because you didn't understand Dracula as a character! Keep talking and ooh I'll start with Not Like Us! I may listen to country more, but I am team Kendrick for life!

Stephanie (laughing): B's gonna need Aloe Vera for those burns.

Batman: Okay, laugh it up! When I'm back home all of you are on punishment!

Batman cut off his communication device as Mad Hatter and Riddler watched the entire exchange after being defeated.

Riddler (watching this entire spectacle): I have no idea what's going on, but I'm enjoying it.

Mad Hatter (drinking tea): Seeing the bats angry is quite entertaining.

Riddler (complimenting his friend): I swear you always say the right thing.

Mad Hatter: So do you, pal.

Batman: Oh shut up!

[dorkus-mcdingus]

Something I noticed about the dorm ages in NRC

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR BOOK 7 OF THE JP SERVER!

Okay so as we have learned, Diasomnia's been confirmed to be the third oldest dorm of NRC while Heartslabyul's the second. It makes a WHOLE lot of sense when you take into account when their respective films they've been twisted from came out

"Okay Dorkus, what the heck do you mean?" I hear you ask.

We all know that Pomefiore's the oldest dorm in NRC since Snow White came out in 1937

Alice in Wonderland (Which Heartslabyul's twisted from) came out in 1951 making it the second oldest dorm and Sleeping Beauty (Diasomnia's movie) came out in 1959 making it the third oldest.

Both were confirmed to be the second and third oldest dorms respectively.

So, where does that leave the Renaissance dorms?

Well, The Little Mermaid came out in 1989 and since the movie is well-known for kicking off the Disney Renaissance, it makes sense that Octavinelle would be the 4th oldest dorm in NRC

"Well, what about Savanaclaw, Scarabia, and Ignihyde?"

Hang on, I'm getting to them.

Scarabia using that logic would be considered the school's 5th oldest dorm since Aladdin came out in 1992 (god thinking back to book 4 and the timeline of these two films, it's so funny yet so fitting that it's octo trio helping us go up against Jamil)

Savanaclaw would be the 6th dorm to be added to NRC since The Lion King came out in 1994.

And the last dorm to be added to NRC'S famed list of gremlins from hell Ahem, dormitories, IS!!!!

*drumroll*

IGNIHYDE!

Ignihyde using the movie timeline is the youngest dorm in NRC since Hercules came out in 1997!

So, with that in mind, we have one dorm that stems from a Disney Golden Age film

Two from the Silver Age (okay knowing that Silver is twisted from a Silver Age character AKA Aurora, will never not be funny to me)

And then we have four from the Renaissance.

Not exactly surprised at that thought since the Renaissance had some ICONIC films in Disney's discography so it's really easy to pull from them. Not to say that Snow White, Alice in Wonderland, and Sleeping Beauty aren't iconic but knowing the heavy Broadway influence the Renaissance had over Disney during that time, it created some iconic films and villains to go along with them.

[arcadecoconut]

sadly the finale was about what I expected. some nice character beats, some cool theatrical moments, but it all loses a lot of its shine when you stop to think about the plot because it's thematically and logically just nonsense. Like, teeth gritting, arms thrown up 'sure, I guess' levels of silly. A tragic lack of ... Follow through? Impact? Meaning?

And this is not me trying to be a hater! Bells hells weren't my favourite party, but I still liked them! I wouldn't have invested so many hours into the campaign if I didn't enjoy them! But the utter lack of consequences renders their own journey a little pointless, no?

Like, what was the point in agonising over the risk of Imogen and Fearne becoming vessels if becoming a vessel was super easy and bore no risks? Why spend so long debating what should happen to the gods if the gods apparently have no bearing on the state of divine magic in exandria? (divine magic and even divine intervention still works fine even without the gods in place? Come ON.)

Divine magic is fine, nothing has changed except the gods are now mortal, but predathos isn't going after any of the divine champions or other sources of divine, he only likes the specific god-flavour of divine apparently?

The main villain of the campaign is totally fine! Ludinus is living out his cottage core fantasies sipping tea and the main party of the campaign don't even bother to inquire about him in their own epilogues? they don't even care enough to follow up on the escaped villain of their own story?

It just feels like it renders all of bells hells achievements and big swings kinda flat if there was no real risk of anything negative happening anyway. Some nice moments for the shippers I guess, but personally I just felt like it lacked substance.

[bubbleddisasters]

Guess whos back on their Che’nya theory shit again. Me.

Also some of this is just me going on about random and absolute far stretched shit, but hopefully the majority makes sense to y’all.

I’m about to sound batshit insane and this is going to be some MatPat sounding shit but here we go anyway.

WARNING‼️⚠️ MAJOR BOOK 7 SPOILERS AHEAD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

———————

I just made the realization that Che’nyas UM and already natural abilities we’ve seen puts him in a position to be deadass playing the Floor is Lava with Malleus as the lava rn.

They wouldn’t have told us his UM in the main story if it didn’t matter somehow. They had the opportunity to show us Neiges in Rooks dream, yet didn’t, so it isn’t a heres RSA UMs for for shits and giggles thing, and we don’t know ANY of the teachers UMs, so it isn’t a “filling npc” thing either.

In EVENTS, we learn the UMs of only the very important and/or dangerous characters. Rollo, Skully, and Fellow. (Geez, Halloween trio now that I think of it).

Do we know Dylia Spades? No. Do we know Eric Schronheits? No. Do we know Ambrose the 3rds? No. Do we know Elizas? No, we get slapped. Do we know Najima Vipers? No. (She might not have one yet tho but still).

These characters are all confirmed as mages, or not directly said to be magicless, so it’s fair to assume they are mages.

So they told us Che’nyas UM for a reason. Why?

Like if his UM makes him invulnerable to magic/attack and invisible, and straight up on ANOTHER PLANE OF EXISTENCE, then if he’s not technically “all there”, Malleus wouldn’t be able to sense him.

Plus, this would explain how Orthos body was floating on the water when STYX found it, as when we know Orthos HEAVY AF, and would more than likely sink, since I doubt they had the time to build in something inflatable enough to balance that weight.

To boot, Ortho was at the docks, which from the map, is super close to RSA.

For reference:

(Both normally and under Mals spell)

The Cheshire Cat is the one who gets Alice out of Wonderland (In the movie, the tunnel Alice runs through matches the Cheshire cats color and stripes + He’s the only one not chasing her+ in the OG book, the Cheshire Cat is more of a Guide and the only one who really sticks with and helps Alice for the whole shabang), and if he’s in RSA, then I think the writers know that.

Aswell as the fact Che’nya appears in both Books with “Tyrant” in the name, and the Cheshire Cat is the only person completely immune to the Queen of Hearts control, as the second most powerful being in wonderland next to LITERALLY TIME ITSELF.

Look in most Disney Villain Line-Ups, and you’ll find the Cheshire Cat. Why? Marketing, the Cheshire Cats a popular character that isn’t directly portrayed as a hero, and more as a mysterious reoccurring character that isn’t necessarily seen as a helper unless you squint.

Additionally, we’ve seen Che’nya use flight, self gravity control, teleportation(unconfirmed but implied on that one) and use his UM for extremely long periods of time, and now that I think of it, we’ve never seen it wear him down, even without the lack of a magestone on his design.

And anyway, in the manga, he’s been doing such things since before we meet him for the first time at age 8-9 from Rids perspective.

Which means long enough that he basically has full control over it at that age, so probably either since birth or very, very young.

Which gives us the know that unlocked his UM way before meeting Riddle and mastered it, which means likely as a literal toddler woke up one day and went “Hey what if I just fucked off to another plane of existence and became both invisible and invulnerable, while capable of movement and communication on this plane the whole time.”

Now back to Book 7.

So heres what caught my attention, Silver mentions the only people he can pop into the dreams of are people he has connections with.

Seeing as we get Sebek first crack out of the box, and then Lilia, this makes sense.

However, it falls off when the next people start to be people Silver either doesn’t know, or very loosely knows.

Yes, I understand the commercial and writing point is meant to be a dorm countdown, but it would make far more sense to be a Russian Roulette, kind of upping the anticipation of whos next.

But to me, with what we know of Silvers connections, it would make far more sense to have the second years be first after Dia, then maybe the third years that he knows because of Lilia, and finally the first years, still leaving room for Ace to get his UM towards the very end.

Now if we drive this back to my Che’nya playing Yuu’s guardian angel theory, it would make more sense to start with Pomfieore after Igi, because not only is it recent connections, so probably easier to bring to the forefront of Silvers UM, it gives him time to get up to NRC right after pushing Ortho or simply getting him out safely.

Before you mention malleus’s barrier, Che’nya gets past NRCs barrier that took STYX heavy power shots to break like its every other tuesday, without Crowleys notice aswell, he stands a viable chance of slipping past Malleus’s.

If he can jump to another plane of existence in which he is invulnerable to magic, theres nothing stopping him from sliding past to get Ortho out and slipping back in under Malleus’s nose.

It also gives him a good “oh shit” moment and an idea of the root of whats happening.

And if I’m wrong and he can’t teleport, he can latch on to Malleus (possibly referencing the Cheshire Cat latching onto the Queens back after she gets a card solider executed I think) to teleport with him back to NRC.

With that, he could be preventing Silver OBing by basically shattering the shade/phantom before it can even do anything, while also hiding Idia being awake. That, or basically lending Silver magic enough to keep going while praying to god Mal doesn’t notice.

Lilia playing the worlds most dangerous game of tag with Mal in dreamland gives him the distraction he needs for this aswell, and it could be that everything went to shit around Trey-Riddles Dreams, and Che’nya popped in to speed up the process and or Dream Che’nyas revealing his UM kinda got his ass caught by Mal, or caused Mal to finally detect a disturbance in the force.

So if I’m right with the previously theorized Guardian Angel thing, Che’nya could be hotwiring Silvers UM to send Silver and co to the people he remembers helped Yuu and the rest recently without risking Malleus putting two and two together on who could be fucking with the dreams other than Silver, depending on how he was portrayed in Trey and Rids Dreams.

Though it would be hilarious if with the Floor is Lavaing it he was also Night at the Musueming it and just repeatedly moved each dreamer closer to Silver physically so they’d have a physical connection (like pinky to pinky or head to head) and basically had Malleus doing a eyebrow raise everytime he turned around trying to figure out if that person had been moved or he was seeing things until he realized there was an exponentially large group around Silver that definitely wasn’t there before.

Another thing: We know the Three Good Fairies weren’t affected by Maleficent’s curse and are the ones to untie Philip when he’s caught and give him the Sword and Shield, which his has, and loses all but the sword in the fight against Maleficent, the Sword and Shield which in the Og twst Trailer that scene is likely referenced by Silver as the Sword (duh) and Sebek as the Shield, with Lilia where Philip would be, although his arm is raised higher.

You kinda have to flip Sebek and Silvers positions but yea.

Sebek being Virtue is self explanatory. He strives to have the virtue of a knight worth of Malleus, and shows this in many ways, but his faults are his rudeness, arrogance, biased or generally rude assumptions, and overexaggertion, stemming from his own internilzed racism (or speciesism? I guess?) , which lead many others to not want to be around him, deflecting the truth of his heritage as to not focus on his own insecurities like a shield to an attack, no matter who its from, in a way.

Now that he has begun to bond and not be as rude to the rest of the non fae cast however, he ends up passing out? Like how a shield seemingly has no use if its not defending, unless you get real creative with it (Its Reyn time I mean who said that)

Silver balances this out as truth, as he is someone we see is honest to almost no fault. His UM also shows truth, in its own way, by showing the truth of the desires of those around him. However, a truth has also been held directly from him, aka the truth of his birth, and the undeniable truth that to break the curse upon him, Lilia did have to truly love him, even as the child of his friends killer.

So he is both benefited and harmed by truth, just like how the same sword can both protect and kill, it just depends on who wields it.

Anyway, back to the point at hand, Now that Malleus seemingly has the time to go and pull a FNAF 4 at Idias door, the odds are Lilia may have somehow gotten caught or restrained (like Phillip is) for enough time to have Malleus notice the Shrouds are pulling shenanigans on his private dream servers and feel the need to go confirm this.

The way in the movie the Three Good Fairies are caught hiding Aurora by Maleficent in the first place is by getting too cocky on the day before Aurora’s B-day and using magic like crazy, fixing up and making their “gifts” much better, as they didn’t know how to create them without magic.

These gifts? A Cake by the GREEN fairy, the calmest and most mature of the three: Fauna, and a Dress, which the RED AND BLUE FAIRIES Merryweather (the most rebellious yet sensical) and Flora (the leader, most work focused and overconfident) keep fighting over which color it should be, Pink or Blue.

(I rewatched their scenes and I forgot how much of a fucking MVP Merryweather was, everyone else turning things into rainbows, bubbles and flowers while my girl was out here burning chains, hunting down snitches, turning her mfking ops to stone and had to be physically held back from throwing hands with Maleficent by herself, god bless this tiny blue diva)

Fauna can obviously be placed as Trey here. Calmest, a Cake, Green. Done.

You can combine Flora and Merryweather into the two sides of Riddles Dream, the first being very punk yet sensical lifestyle, the blue, bringing in the sadness of what he desired yet cannot have, and the second half being Flora, the extremes of overconfident and tyrannical leadership, the red of rage, to say.

Red and Blue obv equal Purple, Che’nyas signature color, probably because purple isn’t actually a fucking color. I’m not going to explain the history of purple, but there is not such thing as purple in science, only shades of violet.

Speaking of Pomfieore, the first non dia dreamer group we see, is VIOLET. I said it. (Octavielle is Lavender, so no, not directly purple) Bright Red is Heartstabyl. (Scarabia is Maroon, which is a shade of red, but again, not directly bright red)

Now what I’m going on about here is this: If In the dreams, each dreamers NPC versions of their friends strictly abides by what the dreamer desires them to, how did dream Che’nya not only transfer to both parts of Riddles dream, but also go directly AGAINST the dream and the dreamer?

The dream versions of the others cannot, under any circumstances, break the character the dreamer creates without breaking the dream itself.

We see this in Lilias dream, in Treys, and Deuces. The Senate, Cater and Ace respectively breach the line of what is and isn’t in character for them in the dreamers memory to hold the dreamer within the dream, causing their respective dreamer to wake up sheerly due to the stark contrast.

These characters will go to lengths to keep the dreamer asleep, so how is it that this dream version of Che’nya can do the exact opposite?

And in Treys dream, Che’nya is the only one not practically turned into Eric Cartman variants, which given the fact Cater, certified sweets hater, has too, means that Che’nya, certified sweets stealer, somehow dodged that bullet in Treys subconscious, which breaks the rules set by the dream.

These rules are delicate, seemingly. It takes one too out of character word, one too out of character action to knock the dreamer awake.

So either Trey sees Che’nya as having the self control of a monk (a small scene in manga implies Che’nya steals from the Clovers fridge so often Treys own damn siblings hear the fridge open and assume its him and not their own damn brother, so I doubt that he’d think that) or Che’nya can bypass these rules.

Many of the dreams would have been so much easier if they could conveniently convince the dreamers friends to go up against them for their sake or just to simply help wake them up.

Of all people, the dream version of Ace fucking Trappola actually listening to and abiding by Riddles tyranny and not jumping at the opportunity to S.O.S to Leona, Yuu and co says enough about this as is.

Anyway, what I’m saying here is that Che’nya either got his ass caught, or finally managed to hotwire himself into Silvers UM conga line, which unfortunately left Idia now in Mals notice and Silver becoming more weary from excess UM use.

Just like how the good fairies thought they’d succeeded and jumped the gun with using magic a day early, Chen could have thought that since they made it this far, their clean until further notice, and is gonna feel the hit of it later.

As my phone is dying and I want a fucking nap, this has been Blues randomass rant about Che’nya again.

More at ???? Folks.

[deepinthegroves]

. ݁₊ ✶ MY MHA DR . ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗

Kayama Hiromi, niece of Midnight, aspiring hero-in-training. She has known Bakugou Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku since they were young, and constantly intervenes whenever Katsuki decides to bully Izuku, much to the former's irritation. Despite that fact, he is still friends with her, and they train together religiously, both striving for the #1 hero spot.

Throughout the years, Hiromi has honed her quirk, Zoomorphosis, and can use it efficiently. She passed the entrance exam easily, and was admitted into Class 1A. There she meets her old friends – including Izuku, much to her surprise – and made some new ones, growing especially close with Sero Hanta. The two of them bonded over their shared love of Spiderman, becoming fast friends.

quirk summary:

Zoomorphosis allows its user to morph their body into an animal's, taking upon desired traits and abilities. It is a transformation type quirk, and requires its user to have the comprehensive knowledge of the animal beforehand in order for the body to shift to that form (e.g. how claws are formed, how canines would elongate). Not only that, if it is the first time the user tries to shift, intense visualisation and focus is required, for an incomplete shift may occur.

Extra practice is required for the user to transform partially, but all transformations are stored via muscle memory, and can be activated at a moment's notice when done right.

When Zoomorphosis is used over a long period of time, there may be a buildup of animal hormones in the body, causing the user to be stuck in a semi-transformed form till the hormones have been metabolised. some instances include: wings not retracting, the lower half of the face stuck as a snout, patches of skin stuck as animal hide.

most notable usages of Zoomorphosis are:

Hiromi using crocodile skin to withstand Katsuki's explosions while sparring;

Hiromi using scorpion book lungs to avoid breathing in Midnight's sleeping gas

Hiromi adapting the glands of her wrist to shoot out spiderwebs

(some) changes i've made to canon:

note: i have ditched canon almost completely and just kept what i like. i have only watched mha till season 6, and could only sit all the way till around season 4-5 when i rewatched it – i couldn't put myself through watching everything after. honestly, i'd rather watch a whole season of filler episodes when it comes to mha. i AM kinda aware of what happens in the epilogue though.

revised some deaths... (e.g. toga, tenko, touya/ dabi, MIDNIGHT, maybe twice, etc.)

changed hero rankings... (mr. bakugou katsuki is the #1 hero, followed be me, shoto, etc.)

make it a LOT less depressing... (basically whole arcs are taken away, and that includes a lot of the violent and (in my words) 'depressing' plotlines.)

changed villains' backstories and endings... (e.g. dabi isn't dead/ in a coma and though the physical damage done to endeavour is still the same, he has also lost the respect and admiration from the public and his team, etc. and he is now forced to rely on whatever money he had from before to support himself – like paying for a caretaker – because i am NOT sentencing rei to that)

and a lot more. (canon is so mangled at this point, just consider this an au (which it technically is LMAO))

notes: this is like a brief intro – i doubt i'll expand on this one a lot here but my script's been ready since 2022-2023 so here! i scripted out mineta and took his place in class 1A. though i know some people keep him around for comic relief, just watching him in the show makes me super uncomfortable. while yes, i can script that away too, it feels weird keeping someone who is basically an author self-insert (on mineta's page, horikoshi self-proclaims himself a "pervert" and basically said as such [my interpretation]) made to creep on his female characters.

divider credits: @/strangergraphics

[my-castles-crumbling]

I think Snape's character and his relationship with Lily have so much potential in fanfiction, but everyone always writes him as the villain. And if I try to say this, they come after me. 😭 "I hate Snape" Yeah babe, me too, but that's why this is an Alternate Universe, lol. I wish there were more fanfics like this (maybe there are, but I haven't found them).

OOOOO okay.

So someone recently said on one of the asks I posted (I forget who said it but they had SUCH a good point) that a lot of people probably hate Snape because a lot of us read the original books as children and so were taught to hate Snape as children. Whereas, we never had any hate towards, say, Regulus, as children. And childhood hate can run deep, you know?

Honestly, I think when people accuse people of being immoral for disliking Snape (not saying you are accusing people I just see it a lot) I think that's ridiculous. It's fiction and people can hate who they want. But also you're right, if you look at it from a neutral perspective. Snape's character has a lot of potential for exploration. I don't like writing him, but I see nothing wrong with other people writing him. That being said, if you don't see the fanfics you like, you can always write them!

[xi-vz]

Girl hear me out: OG!SQH and Airplane as Twins. Mobei-jun has two hands. What's not clicking. (Btw love your content)

Thanks for the kudos 🖤, and remember: You asked for this.

•

•

•

The thing is that Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky would have rather have stayed dead. Honestly, what was with this reincarnation-transmigration bullshit? No. If a person dies, they should stay that way. Instead, he was born the youngest of nine (NINE!) children and a twin at that. To none other than his precious scum villain, Shang Qinghua.(He reminds himself it could be worse; he could be Shen Jiu.)

Shang Houhua and Shang Feiji (their parents really hated them when they decided on names.) The two were nearly identical except for their eyes. A-Hua’s eyes were a darker honey color. A-Ji’s were a bright apple green. Although no one really paid that much attention to that small detail, so the two often were confused for one another.

This is how A-Ji finds himself on a specific mission in place of his brother. They swapped places because Airplane had an exam he was wholly unprepared for, and A-Hua hadn’t wanted to go on a particular mission. It was easy, really. And maybe that was the issue.

The mission was easy: a handful of An Ding disciples bringing back scrolls, books, papers, and inks. Simple and straight to the point.

It was when the System, something that A-Ji mostly ignored, made a happy announcement that a new character would be introduced that made him pause during the mission. A new character? It was confusing until a shard of ice impaled the disciple beside him. Then all hell broke loose.

A-Ji couldn’t tell you what happened, except he wound up with Mobei Jun. He, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, took his brother's place as the scum spy! He panicked, cried, and felt like everyone knew he was now a traitor. And the fact that Mobei Jun was able to get onto An Ding without sounding off the wards! He knew his king was amazing, but he was totally OP! And he wasn’t even an adult yet!

The thing was that A-Ji was terrible at keeping secrets from his twin. They had some weird connection, so A-Hua knew something was up!

You’d think those would be the biggest problems. No, the biggest issue was that Mobei Jun opened a shadow portal into his room one night when A-Hua was there with him.

“Um,” A-Ji froze in his seat at his desk.

A-Hua stared from the bed.

“Two of you,” Mobei Jun blinked, bright blue eyes narrowing from one to the other.

It was the look on his face that threw A-Ji off. Was his king blushing? Over the fact that they were twins?

"Hello there," A-Hua murmured, admiringly glancing at the demon prince. Which was fair, because Mobei Jun was hot. But also, no. No way! Airplane made that man for himself, thank you very much.

Mobei Jun kept his gaze on the two, interest slowly forming on his face.

Oh, absolutely not! PIDW had its share of kinky and shameful elements, but there was never any Lannister-style twincest nonsense in the plot or initial drafts. (And the readers had pushed for Binghe to get down with twins and triplets in threesomes and foursomes, but there were some things that even Airplane couldn’t bring himself to write for money.)

“No!” Airplane shouted, grabbing his brother by the elbow and forcing him out of the room. “Don’t be a narc about this either.”

“As usual, you sound crazy,” A-Hua commented—he often said that when he didn’t understand what A-Ji said— as he was shoved out into the hallway. “We’ll talk about this later.”

A-Ji could finally breathe once the door shut behind him, only to find Mobei Jun gazing at him and then sadly at the door.

What the fuck?

[augustuscaesarsalad]

I love fandom, I love making shit up, and I love evil characters. I love morally gray characters, nuisances, losers, and villains! I love completely inventing backstories and character motivations and all that jazz.

That all being said, I find something profoundly frustrating about the Marauders fandom and their view of Snape. If you choose to believe that Regulus was lead astray by the Death Eaters, then you have to think the same about Snape, because it’s true! If you think that Regulus is a hero for betraying Voldemort, cool! But he did it for even MORE selfish of a reason than Snape, and then he died. Snape lived the rest of his life working to defeat Voldemort, he is also the reason that Harry survived ANY of the books, and is the reason Harry found out he was a Horcrux. Was Snape wrong for calling Lily a Mudblood? Yes! Do you honestly believe that Regulus, Barty, Evan, and Bellatrix weren’t calling people Mudbloods left and right? Be so fucking fr right now. Snape was groomed to join a cult, he was a completely vulnerable member of society with nobody supporting him, no rich family, no one standing up for him, and the people on the so-called “Light side” were tormenting him nonstop. To me, that’s much more sympathetic than “his rich family told him to join the death eaters so he did!” Fandom Regulus is kind of repackaged Snape tbh, and I’d be fine with it if it didn’t come along with so much Snape hate. Snape is mean, vindictive, and spiteful, and I love him for that. I also love Regulus for being Kreacher’s number one supporter and having a homemade Voldemort collage in his bedroom! It’s fun! And that’s what fandom is about! Also, about Snape being a mean teacher, when I was a kid and I read the books for the first time, I straight up never thought he was that mean. I was raised doing ballet, and any Vaganova technique teacher is wayyyyyyyy more mean than Snape lmao. (Not that Snape wasn’t mean, don’t get me wrong, he was, but I can still like him lol)

I guess in conclusion, people need to stop hating on Snape tbh it’s getting really old. Why are any of the Death Eaters (former and otherwise) fine and good in Marauders fans eyes except for Snape? He’s the one who actually contributed to the good of the world. If you can like Barty fucking Crouch Jr then you can like Snape lmao, one of them was a complete creep and it’s sure as hell is not Snape! Snape serves cunt too.

Anyways lol