#no more tranquils as the funding for the circle

[pupkinpumpkin]

Anytime I replay DAI and I get to that first conversation with Vivienne back at Haven, I take a long inhale Everytime she asks what I think about doing with the mages.

Like I know my Inky has not thought about this too much. She just knows her clan, but I think about it constantly and no answer I am offered is good enough to assuage my long rant that I yell at the computer for like 8 straight minutes before I choose the Mages Should Be Free line and get the inevitable Vivienne Greatly Disapproves

I love Vivienne a lot, I do, even with the differing political views, but Jesus Christ girlie pop never ask me that question again because I will go off Every Single Time

[obessivedork]

TBH as a writer appreciating the set-up of a character I ADORE Vivienne but her lack of proper character arc & the inability to argue with her more is as infuriating as with most of your companions in DAI, if not more when you play a Mage because you CAN’T grab her by the shoulders and shake her and say Ma’am if you’d had worse luck and wound up literally anywhere other than the Circle you did wind up at you would be a fundamentally different person please for Maker’s sake admit out loud that you only like the Circles because you managed to etch yourself some limited social power out of the broken and corrupt system you might not otherwise have been able to get for yourself and therefore you have not suffered the true effects of it!!!!

[kiastirling-fanfic]

Tranquil Week Day 3: Dissent

A tranquil who works in the Wonders of Thedas engages in some minor workplace rebellion. (Nestor is not a canonical tranquil character)

Read it on Ao3 Here or find the full text below the cut

Rating: G Wordcount: 703 C/w: retail

@tranquilweek

The Wonders of Thedas was loud.

Not in volume. Its patrons generally kept to quietly appreciative commentary or salacious whispers for some of the more specialized merchandise, and its proprietors were likewise unlikely to raise their voices.

Though the Wonders of Thedas run largely by the Tranquil who enchanted its artifacts, it was not they who decided its decor and public image, nor was it determined by the Chantry. Some decades past, when Orlais ruled over Ferelden, its nobles took offense to the drab nature of the Tranquil and the shop they ran, and while the shop continued its functions the overseer of Denerim commissioned artisans to update and formalize its appearance.

The Wonders of Thedas was one of few buildings in Denerim to still display Orlesian architectural influence after the successful rebellion that saw King Maric set upon the throne, and though the Orlesian nobles who had overseen it were long since ousted, those who took up the duty in their absence continued the trend.

Nestor had been Tranquil for 3 years now, and he had no feelings as all Tranquil did, but that did not mean he lacked opinions. And he was of the opinion that the Wonders of Thedas’ design was loud.

When he voiced this, his fellows did not understand, though he did not expect them to. He had been particular as a mage, too.

The graceful swooping and brilliant colors of Orlesian design had never suited his tastes when he had feelings, and it was his now objective opinion that he had always been correct. The contrasting colors made it difficult for his eyes to focus on certain parts of the store, something that was undesirable when their goal was to showcase and sell the work of the enchanting Tranquil and fund the Circle.

Nevermind the dust that collected in each ill-advised nook and cranny. The amount of time spent dusting each crevice was excessive, time that could be better spent on any other task. By Nestor’s estimation, they could have one more Tranquil working on enchanting for at least four hours a day if there were less extraneous cleaning to be done.

He brought his observations to the mage and templar who oversaw the Wonders, including his sketches of how to remodel the building to suit Fereldan architecture, built to withstand the weather and without the proclivity to collect dust and dirt in all manner of places, but Nestor was dismissed quickly and told to continue servicing the customers. This was not his job.

Nestor disagreed. Optimizing the Wonders was precisely his job, and interacting with the clientele was apt to dissuade them from making a purchase given how the average Fereldan viewed mages and the Tranquil especially. But he knew that his words held no sway.

So Nestor no longer used words in his effort to fix the Wonders.

It started small. One night, when he was left alone to finish closing the shop, Nestor found a knife, and he used it. He started by carving the many nooks and making them less sharp and easier to clean. When no one commented for days afterward, he decided to take it to mean that his corrections were unnoticed or else were tacitly approved.

So he acquired better tools from the workshop and he smoothed all the filigree and flattened each surface that collected dust in their grooves, and still no one commented on it. As if he were the only one who ever noticed those bits of decor at all.

Nestor thought that boldness was considered among the things a Tranquil could not have; not an emotion per se but something under the purview of Valor perhaps.

And yet he grew bolder all the same.

He grew more skilled in his renovations by the day, and never was he taken off the closing shift of the night. It was only when he acquired paint and covered the colors that had hurt his eyes so that anyone seemed to take notice at all.

The mage proprietor blamed the templar. The templar blamed the mage. Both stewed, but never took their arguments above a whisper.

Nestor found the new Wonders of Thedas was not so loud at all now.

[thedragonagelesbian]

want to tell me anything that'd be cool to know about cyrus hawke in his original setting? romance? relationship to varric? opinion of gamlen? characters alive in his worldstate that contradict canon? the inquisitor's decision in the fade?

!!!!!!!! YES I'M ALWAYS DOWN TO TALK ABOUT ORIGINAL DRAGON AGE!CYRUS

(Kind of) Cool Shit

He's a blue -> red Hawke, his initial & overwhelming kindness & good faith in others worn away by the years in Kirkwall

He can't sing, but will do it anyway if he gets drunk enough

A combination of overexposure to Anders' healing magic + using the life stealing ability from the Hawke key + the amount of his blood that has been spilled in Kirkwall & seeped into the city's magisterium-corrupted foundations has left him. Cursed. The two interrelated issues are (a) his body is self-healing (and while Cyrus is already alienated from his body on account of his trans-ness & viewing it as merely a tool for protecting others, this alienates him further) and (b) his connection to the Fade is weak, even for a non-mage. This asymptotic approach to Tranquility grants him a templar-like denial of magic, for better and for worse.

He ends up in Val Royeaux after DA2 with Merrill, Varric, Alistair (less shitty version of the exile ending), and Zevran (Alistair's bf & working with Briala & her spy network)

He's extremely varterral coded (elven protector bound by duty who can't die). After Briala reactivates the Eluvian network, Merrill is able to repair hers, and as part of his work to make the routes safe for Briala's spies, Cyrus pacifies & adopts the varterral from The Masked Empire when it respawns

Romance

Technically within the parameters of what the game will allow, no one, but in the world of wild headcanoning, Merrill & Fenris are his queer platonic life partners, he and Anders are in love for basically the whole game but don't pursue a deeper relationship for a lot of complicated reasons (Cyrus doesn't know how to ask for help, so Anders assumes that he knows what Cyrus needs & that he would be better off without him), and Varric is his great romantic love.

Relationship with Varric

They get off on awkward footing in Act 1-- Varric has Cyrus pegged as a very easy mark for conning into funding the Deep Roads expedition, and the heroic selfish shtick grates him the same way Sebastian grates him, and while Cyrus does naively trust him, Varric is just... a little too smooth, polished, inoffensive. Their relationship begins to shift around the Deep Roads expedition. They both take Bartrand's betrayal hard, and then Cyrus nearly dies saving Varric from the ancient rock wraith, and then Bethany is taken to the Circle when they return to Kirkwall and Cyrus gets himself in a lot of trouble trying to break her out again. Varric is more worried about him than he'd like to admit and tries to help by telling Cyrus that he could do more good for Bethany (and for the Circle & Alienage) by leveraging the social & financial capital he'll accrue from the Deep Roads expedition. Cyrus isn't wholly convinced, but after a bloody encounter with the templars nearly kills him, he tries to believe it.

Varric spends the next few years desperately telling himself that he doesn't care & isn't jealous of whatever the fuck is going on between Cyrus & Anders. Leandra's death is the next major inflection point in their relationship. Varric invites him to crash in his suite in the Hanged Man & helps him through the complicated (& shared) feelings of losing a mother he may not have actually liked as much as he thought he did.

Come the Arishok duel, Cyrus nearly dies again (he's a tank, it's what he does), and while trying to heal him back up, the party discovers the aforementioned magic resistance. That + the exhaustion of the day + the heartbreak over Isabela leaving + the fury toward Aveline & the city guard + the uncertainty of who he will be now that he's been named Champion prove to be more than Cyrus can bear (and he can bear a lot). Cyrus is terrified that he's given away so much of himself that he can't find his way back. He feels lost in his role as the hero, and even lashes out at Varric for his part in constructing that persona ("What am I supposed to make of that, of all the stories you tell about me, of the damned nickname, other than that I am supposed to be the world’s savior?") Varric apologizes and reassures Cyrus as best he can that he is more than any title or storyteller's trope. He is his own person, and he's allowed to live for himself and his own desires, however selfish they may be.

And then they kiss.

And they've been together ever since!!

Relationship with Gamlen

Complicated, because Cyrus' relationship with Leandra is complicated, and as deeply as he desires to give his mother everything she could ever want, and as much as he's willing to sacrifice to to do that, Gamlen gives him a glimpse of what it would be like to not live like that, and Cyrus... doesn't hate what he sees, even if he feels like he should.

Characters still alive contradicting canon

Orsino, because that boss fight is bullshit.

This isn't quite the same thing, but I do have an AU where Cyrus doesn't kill Anders during the Last Straw (feeling otherwise obligated to fulfill the role Anders demands of him as the Hessarian to his Andraste, even though he doesn't want to & will carry the guilt & grief of that decision with him for the rest of his life) & they + Varric instead get to live out a happy polycule life

Inquisitor's decision in the Fade

Short answer: Cyrus doesn't even volunteer to stay behind. His days of reckless sacrifice are behind him at this point, and Loghain Mac Tir is not among the very narrow list of people he would still sacrifice his life for.

Long answer:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I've been doing a lot of naval gazing about this decision as part of trying to square the timeline in my head with Varric's appearance in Veilguard. If both Cyrus & Varric are alive by the end of Inquisition, I can't imagine Varric leaving Cyrus behind to pursue Solas. It was hard enough for them to be apart while Varric was with the Inquisition, they've earned their happy ending & rest, and the Inquisition has plenty of other operatives (including the Inquisitor herself) who could be hunting Solas instead. So. Either it's not Varric at the start of Veilguard, or something has to happen to Cyrus. Whether that means staying in the Fade (would only do it to save Varric) or something else, I haven't decided.

[merrybandofmurderers]

just fucking occurred to me. if the circles are largely funded by tranquil slave labor and basically all the tranquil are murdered during inquisition...

if the circles are re-established, how are they being funded? presumably cass and viv are having the chantry fund it, but that's a big-ass expense that the chantry apparently had no prior budget for and the chantry itself is trying to recover from a severe blow

how much arrangement of the chantry's financials does it take to cover this? do the newly appointed knight-commanders feel any renewed pressure to make more tranquil for slave labor to cover costs?

and the college of enchanters that's formed in the epilogues. how are they being funded? do they receive foreign aid? take donations? put their own mages to work? they've never had to worry about this before. it's wasn't their choice ofc, but the fact is that their lives in the circles were funded by slave labor and they were accustomed to this (altho hopefully they had an issue with it)

we don't know if the right of tranquility was banned. it's never mentioned. cassandra never brings up the cure again. you cannot bring up the cure again. the tranquil are not mentioned in the epilogues

how do the new circles get funded?

[spindleweedss]

for Linus

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

Thank you!!

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature? At a distance, it's his hair - reddish-orange and curly, with a bit of a widow's peak that's usually covered by his bangs.

During Inquisition and up close, his eyes stand out more than anything else. For some mysterious reason ( = I like magical changes in eye colours), the Anchor turns his greenish brown eyes into a bright, yellowish green, giving his gaze an unnatural intensity. They also glow for a while after using the Anchor, and by Trespasser they're pretty much always lit up.

wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing? At the Circle, every mage has 3-4 robes that get cleaned and maintained by the Tranquil or apprentices/young mages. However, his family's donations to the Circle meant that Linus was rarely assigned such tasks. This of course bites him in the ass when he leaves the Circle and has to learn basic life skills like mending clothes.

During Inquisition, he starts out wearing whatever they can scavenge from the newly formed organisation's stockpiles, since everything he brought to the Conclave was lost in the explosion. When he is declared Inquisitor, and once they have the funds for tailors, he gets a wardrobe befitting his status - more outfits than he's had since childhood, all of them carefully designed to make anyone who sees him aware of his affiliation with the Inquisition and the Chantry.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change? Linus cut his hair (previously shoulder-length) with his friends' assistance while they were fleeing the Circle, claiming that it might make him less recognisable but actually wanting to mark the significance of no longer living at the Circle. He also quit wearing mage robes, even though some other mages continue to incorporate them into their wardrobes.

Another big wardrobe swap happens after Linus disbands the Inquisition, when he starts having to figure out who he wants to be at that point in his life. He definitely avoids formal outfits for a few years, preferring simple styles in more comfortable fabrics.

[pickyourpop]

Charming Flats for Sale in Mysore: Ideal for Families & Investors

Charming Flats for Sale in Mysore: Ideal for Families & Investors

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Conclusion

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For more information visit : Flats for Sale in Mysore

[investorsbuyinghouses]

Sell Your House Fast and Hassle-Free: How We Buy It

Introduction

Selling a house can be perhaps the most distressing involvement with life. From setting up the home for appearances to haggling with possible purchasers and managing the administrative work, the conventional home selling process is frequently lengthy and bulky. Notwithstanding, there is an elective that streamlines and facilitates the interaction: offering your home to an organization that purchases homes quickly and bother-free. Learn How We Buy House.

Understanding the Speedy Deal Cycle

What Does It Mean to Sell Your Home Quickly?

When you sell your house quickly, you can complete the transaction much more quickly than you would with more conventional methods. You can close the deal in as little as a week instead of waiting months for the right buyer to come along. Companies that buy houses quickly simplify the process by making sellers a fair cash offer and closing quickly.

How Do These Organizations Work?

Organizations that purchase houses quickly commonly work determined to get properties rapidly and effectively. They utilize their assets to buy homes out and out, wiping out the requirement for contract funding. This permits them to finish quicker and with fewer possibilities. These organizations frequently purchase homes in different circumstances, including those that need fixes or are confronting abandonment.

Advantages of Selling Your House Quickly

Fast Exchanges

One of the main benefits of selling your home quickly is the speed of the exchange. Customary home deals can require a while to finish, however, fast deals can frequently be settled very quickly or in weeks. This speedy circle back is great for property holders who need to move rapidly because of occupation migrations, monetary hardships, or other individual reasons.

Reliability and certainty

You can anticipate a high level of certainty and dependability when you sell your home to a company that buys houses quickly. Since these organizations utilize their assets, there's no gamble of the deal falling through because of support issues. Sellers may experience less stress and tranquility as a result of this dependability.

As-Is Deals

Most of the time, quick sale companies buy homes in their current condition, saving sellers the time, effort, and money it takes to make updates or repairs. Properties that require significant repairs or sellers who prefer not to invest in renovations are ideal candidates for this as-is sale strategy. Quickly learn How We Buy House.

Fewer Possibilities

Conventional home deals frequently accompany different possibilities, like home investigations, evaluations, and supporting endorsements. These contingencies have the potential to make the process more difficult and to hold up the sale. Companies that buy houses quickly often do away with these conditions, which makes the process go more quickly and smoothly.

Cost reduction

You can save a lot of money over traditional sales by selling your house to a quick sale company. Costs associated with holding the property (such as mortgage payments, property taxes, and utilities) while it is on the market, repairs, staging, and real estate agent commissions are among these savings.

The Fast Deal Cycle Made

Step 1: Introductory Contact and Property Data

Contacting a company that buys houses quickly and providing some basic information about your property is the first step in the quick sale process. This data normally incorporates the location, property type, size, condition, and any striking elements. Many organizations have online structures you can finish up to kick the cycle off.

Step 2: Property Evaluation

After getting together starting data, the organization will plan a visit to your property to lead an intensive evaluation. During this visit, they will assess the state of the home, recognize any fundamental fixes, and decide its reasonable worth. This evaluation assists the organization with forming a fair money offer.

Step 3: Get a Money Offer

Given the property evaluation, the organization will give you a money offer. The purchase price and any conditions are typically outlined in writing in this offer. Cash offers are frequently cutthroat and consider the ongoing business sector worth of the property and the expense of any required fixes.

Step 4: Audit and Acknowledge the Proposition

When you get the money offer, you have the valuable chance to audit it and choose whether to acknowledge it. Consider the offer carefully and ask any questions you may have. If the deal addresses your issues and assumptions, you can acknowledge it and continue to the following stage.

Step 5: Consent to the Buy Arrangement

A purchase agreement will be signed by you after you accept the cash offer. This legitimately restricting report frames the agreements of the deal, including the price tag, shutting date, and some other significant subtleties. The purchase agreement guarantees the commitment of both parties to the transaction. Learn How We Buy House.

Step 6: Getting the deal done

The end interaction for a speedy deal is ordinarily quicker and less complex than a customary deal. The organization will deal with the greater part of the desk work and direction with a title organization to guarantee a smooth exchange. You will receive your full payment, transfer ownership of the property, and sign the final documents at closing. Much of the time, the whole shutting interaction can be finished within a couple of days.

How to Sell Your House Quickly

Research Likely Purchasers

Do your homework to make sure you're working with a reputable and dependable business before choosing a company to sell your house to. Search for audits and tributes, check their history, and request references. A reputable company will make an honest offer for your property and be open about their procedure.

Learn About the Market

Setting realistic expectations for the sale can be made easier if you are familiar with the local real estate market. Research late deals of comparable properties in your space to find out about your home's fairly estimated worth. With this knowledge, you can evaluate cash offers and ensure a fair price.

Be sincere about your home

Be open and honest about the state of your property and any problems it might have when you tell a potential buyer about it. Transparency can aid in establishing buyer trust and avoiding problems during the sale process. Recall that organizations having some expertise in fast deals are knowledgeable about managing properties in different circumstances and are probably going to see the value in your trustworthiness.

Plan for the Deal

It's still a good idea to get ready for the sale, even if you're selling your house as-is. Make your home look better for the buyer by cleaning it up and getting rid of any unnecessary items. This effort might help make a good impression and get you a better deal.

Audit the Deal Cautiously

Take the time to carefully examine any cash offers. Take into account not only the cost of the purchase but also any terms and conditions that might affect the sale. Do not be afraid to ask the buyer for clarification if you have any concerns or questions. If you have any inquiries or require any additional information, a reputable business will be happy to answer them.

Conclusion Selling your home quickly and bother-free is a great choice for mortgage holders who need to move rapidly or need to stay away from the pressure and cost of customary home deals. You can enjoy a streamlined process, avoid the hassle of repairs and contingencies, and achieve a fast and dependable sale by working with a reputable company that specializes in quick sales. Selling your house to a company that buys houses fast can provide the solution you need if you're having financial difficulties, need to move quickly, or just want a simple selling experience. If you follow the steps in this guide, you can quickly turn your house into cash and confidently navigate the quick sale process. By following these steps you will learn How We Buy House.

[plotsforsaleinmysore]

WHAT IS THE SIZE RANGE OF THE RESIDENTIAL PLOTS AVAILABLE FOR SALE IN MYSORE?

Understanding the Size Range of Residential Plots Available for Sale in Mysore

Residential Plots in Mysore, regarded for its wealthy cultural information and tranquil environment, is becoming an increasingly appealing vacation spot for actual asset funding. One of the critical element factors that customers can keep in mind while looking for residential plots is the dimensions of to-be-had plots. This guide presents an in-depth test of the diverse sizes of residential plots available on the market in Mysore, assisting human beings looking for merchandise/services to make informed picks.

Why Plot Size Matters

The duration of a residential plot is vital for numerous motives:

Construction Plans: The duration determines the scope of the introduction, influencing the format and layout of the future home.

Investment Potential: Larger plots can offer higher investment returns because of a better name for and capacity for development.

Lifestyle Needs: Plot size influences lifestyle opportunities in conjunction with lawn location, parking, and outdoor activities.

Regulatory Compliance: Residential plots in Mysore  Understanding the plot duration facilitates ensuring compliance with community zoning criminal recommendations and pointers.

Typical Size Ranges of Residential Plots in Mysore

Residential plots in Mysore are available in various sizes to cater to unique desires and budgets. The normal length levels can be categorized into small, medium, and massive plots.

Small Plots (600 – 1200 rectangular ft)

Ideal For: Single-circle of relatives houses, tiny homes, or rate range-conscious customers.

Details:

600 sq. Ft. Plots: These are some of the smallest available and are top-notch for compact homes or row homes. They are best for clients seeking a minimalistic way of life or for funding features in low-demand regions.

800 sq. Ft. Plots: Slightly larger, these plots can accommodate small homes with crucial offerings. They offer extra flexibility in design in contrast to six hundred sq. Ft. Plots.

One thousand sq. feet. Plots: These plots strike a balance between affordability and region, considering slightly huge homes or duplexes.

1200 sq. Feet. Plots: These are famous amongst small families. They impart sufficient area for a  plots in Mysore home with a small lawn or parking location.

Advantages:

Affordability: Smaller plots are commonly more excellent and lots less pricey, making them available to a wider variety of customers.

Lower Maintenance: Easier to hold due to their smaller period.

Prime Locations: Often available in excessive locations wherein large plots won’t be viable.

Challenges:

Limited Space: Less flexibility in phrases of layout and expansion.

Higher Density: These plots are usually found in more densely populated regions.

Medium Plots (1500 – 2400 rectangular ft)

Ideal For: Medium-sized households, duplex homes, or customers searching for a balance between location and fee.

Details:

1500 sq. Ft. Plots: These provide a fantastic quantity of space for a comfortable dwelling. They are great for medium-sized houses with more than one room and likely a small lawn.

1800 sq. Toes. Plots: These plots provide greater flexibility in layout and can accommodate larger homes or duplex houses, with enough space for parking and landscaping.

2000 sq. Toes. Plots: These are appropriate for those looking for more excellent, Residential plots in Mysore  spacious homes with greater features, like an extensive garden or outside.

2400 sq. Toes. Plots: These plots offer full-size places for luxurious living, which encompass extensive gardens, a couple of parking spots, and more extensive domestic designs.

Advantages:

Versatility: Offers extra flexibility in domestic format and further abilities.

Future Expansion: It is easier to increase the house or upload more systems to destiny.

Balanced Cost: Provides stability amongst space and affordability.

Challenges:

Higher Cost: More costly than smaller plots, which can be a barrier for a few clients.

Maintenance: Requires extra protection in comparison to smaller plots.

Large Plots (2500 – 5000+ square ft)

Ideal For: Large households, highly-priced houses, shoppers searching out excessive-fee Residential plots in Mysore  residences, or the ones interested in multi-unit traits.

Details:

2500 sq. Toes. Plots: These plots are suitable for massive houses with good-sized gardens and a couple of offerings.

3000 sq. Feet. Plots: Ideal for luxurious houses, those plots can accommodate large homes with large outside regions.

4000 sq. feet. Plots are suitable for extraordinarily massive homes or small condo complexes, supplying huge space for diverse uses.

5000+ sq. Feet. Plots: These are typically used for high-priced estates, villa complexes, or excessive-fee funding residences. They offer the most flexibility in terms of layout and improvement.

Advantages:

Luxury Living: Allows for the development of huge, high-priced homes with extensive facilities.

Investment Potential: There is a high potential for going lower back on investment, especially in high places.

Flexibility: Maximum flexibility in terms of layout, landscaping, and similar systems.

Challenges:

Cost: Significantly better price, making them reachable excellently in a gap marketplace.

Maintenance: Requires super protection, which may be expensive and time-consuming.

Zoning Regulations: Must comply with more stringent zoning tips, which can complicate the development manner.

Factors to Consider When Choosing Plot Size

When selecting the dimensions of a residential plot, several elements need to be taken into consideration:

Budget: Determine your price range and understand how the plot size may affect the general price of the property and creation.

Purpose: Consider the supposed use of the plot—whether or not or not it’s for a single circle of relatives, domestic, duplex, investment, or development.

Location: The availability of plot sizes can vary substantially by using the manner of area. Prime areas may additionally have more limited options in terms of size.

Future Plans: Think about destiny expansion or resale capacity Residential plots in Mysore . Larger plots offer extra flexibility for destiny modifications.

Local Regulations: Ensure that the plot complies with local zoning prison pointers and constructing guidelines that might vary based totally on the scale and supposed use of the assets.

Conclusion

Mysore offers a several form of  property sizes, catering to notable wishes, budgets, and alternatives. From compact 600 sq. Ft. Plots for tiny homes or funding functions to expansive 5000+ sq. Feet. Plots for luxurious estates or multi-unit dispositions, there can be something for each person. Understanding the everyday length of degrees and the benefits and stressful situations related to each can assist in attempting to find what you offer and make knowledgeable picks. Whether you are looking for a small, functional plot or a massive, flexible asset, Mysore’s actual belongings market has alternatives to shape every requirement.

By considering factors such as charge variety, intended use, location, future plans, and community regulations, customers can select the plot duration that best fits their goals and ensures a valid investment in this culturally wealthy and unexpectedly growing city Residential plots in Mysore .

For More Information Visit, Residential Plots in Mysore

[just4care]

The Importance of Community Care in Perth

Community care Perth focuses on reducing social isolation, providing recreational activities and leisure programs for elderly community members. These projects help improve wellbeing and increase their quality of life by promoting healthy lifestyles.

Community care also reduces unnecessary pressure on hospital and GP services, allowing people to return home sooner. This can lead to better recovery outcomes and lower costs.

Boxing Project

The Boxing Project is a community-based initiative that offers youth the opportunity to train in non-contact boxing. The program is designed to help young people develop discipline and self-esteem. It also provides a safe space to channel their energy away from dangerous social behaviour.

Moreover, it improves cognitive functions and lowers stress levels. It increases the release of norepinephrine, which allows the central and sympathetic nervous systems to work together. It also enhances reflexes and helps people become more aware of their surroundings.

Trainers in boxing gyms are more than sports coaches; they are counselors, support figures, and friends to the youth. They teach values like hard work, respect and discipline that can be utilised in all aspects of life. They push the athletes to be confident and to achieve their goals in the ring and beyond.

Clicking Needles Knitting Group

Four years ago, the Clicking Needles Knitting Group was founded as a way to give back. Their needles have clacking away ever since, meeting requests from local groups and rising to meet each challenge. They have knitted balaclavas for mariners; baby blankets and hats for the maternity ward at Withybush Hospital; scarves and hats for charity shops, care homes, Paul Sartori carers, and homeless people; lap blankets for community centres and nursing homes; and slippers and lagans for cancer patients.

The tranquil clicking of their needles blends with chat about the latest mystery book they're reading, or a discussion about whether aluminum or wooden knitting needles are better. It's a great way to expand your social circle while doing something constructive. This group meets at Cotuit Library on Tuesday afternoons.

Kinross-shire Volunteer Group

Having been recognized with Age Scotland’s national award, the Kinross-shire Volunteer Group and Rural Outreach Scheme (KVG&ROS) has demonstrated how effective community-driven initiatives can be. Its pivotal role in aiding the community’s residents to maintain mobility and social connections through transport has become an invaluable service for many.

This group provides activities for young people in and around Perth and Kinross including Street Football School Radio Group, Cookery Fun and Movie Night Detached youth work. They also help young people and their families to identify issues affecting them and provide support.

A large supermarket is situated beside the park and ride in the town as well as a number of smaller shops, cafes and pubs. A public bus service operates throughout the town and the surrounding area.

Holiday@Home

Holiday@Home provides short-term accommodation and support for people with disability to enjoy holiday activities, giving their usual carers a break. They can stay in a group supported home, their own home or another place for up to 14 days. The program can also be funded to help someone try something new or learn a skill they want to develop.

Supported accommodation is a unique form of housing for individuals with disabilities or health conditions. It allows them to live in a safe and secure environment while receiving the care they need. This is an excellent option for those who wish to maintain a sense of independence and dignity in their golden years. It is also a great way to connect with a community that prioritizes the well-being of its residents.

Health and Wellbeing Cafe

The Health and Wellbeing Cafe is a weekly gathering for people who have been affected by trauma and are looking for peer support. It is run by a team of volunteers and local community groups. The cafe offers a chance for participants to connect over coffee and cake, sharing their experiences and learning from each other.

The food served at Solomon’s is healthy, fresh and delicious. The menu features vegetarian, gluten free and vegan options. There are also dietary restrictions catered for such as low FODMAP.

If a veggie panini just won’t cut it for lunch, there are plenty of other healthy options to choose from around Perth. Panache also does balanced lunch boxes and cold pressed juices to go. Their menu includes nutritional information and macros so you can monitor your health goals.

[tangleweave]

It isn't even a brush of magick, meddling in the affairs of gods and nature, that gifts Beth with a forecast of at least a solid week and a half of rain. While the bleak and cold dampness might sour anyone else Beth seems to take a languid sort of tranquillity from it. She's confided to him in the past that her hanai-sister is a cellist, though the music played through the house softly is someone else and helps her with the occasional homesickness she feels for New York. She isn't yearning for those unnameable things right now. There's a few extra blankets on the bed. There are candles in place of wasting electricity, enchanted not to burn down their wicks or spread pools of wax. Eddie's body radiates heat though she can't say whether it's his natural metabolism or Beloved shedding more warmth. Either way she luxuriates the benevolence of it all as she lies half way across Eddie's chest, legs tangled with his at the ankle, hair a dark pool spilling across his pecs, across his arm. Gentle kisses become slightly sharper nips. The idea of teeth rather than proper bites. Those in turn become a little sloppy new kisses. "I don' know if I tell you right, or if I can really convey it, but...you make me happy, my Ekkie."

[ Somewhere In the Middle of Nowhere ]

The patter of the steady rain across the roof and against the windows is just the kind of white noise that, under most other circumstances, would put Eddie soundly to sleep. Back in Brooklyn, it would have been the ideal set of circumstances for his Other to take over. To go out on the hunt. Find the miscreants who have no respect for the lives of others, perpetrating evil and cruelty in whatever form they can… and put an end to them in the most final of ways. But such activities so near a hub of well-funded superpowered beings had shown to hamper Their well-intended mission all too often for Their liking.

Hence Their sojourn to San Francisco. Hence Eddie meeting Beth. Hence Beth meeting his Other… whom, in her very first address to Him, she had called beautiful... and whom she now calls Beloved.

And all the other little things that have happened, both between and since.

The cello music issuing from her speaker system is beautiful. Quiet. Contemplative. Its meter carries with the patter of the rain. sounds almost like a lullaby, but there is a shade of melancholy to it. Eddie knows, by now, that Beth is a creature who constantly yearns for connection, even though she rarely feels safe enough to seek it in any but the most cautious of ways. As the strings swell and the piano strains, he sees in his mind's eye that forlorn look she will sometimes wear when she's lost in her intrusive thoughts. When she needs to dwell upon what she misses. And with a tinge of guilt, he finds himself appreciating that his own mournfulness is frequently intercepted by his Other before it can reach full enough fruition to utter aloud.

But as pensive as the music is, Beth's mien does not draw upon the gloom so easily now. The languid drag of her limbs against his body is a soothing reminder that neither of them is alone… that, impossible as it might seem, they have one another. The cool of her skin is a balm to his own. Even before his Other became a part of him, he ran hot. All the more so now, and Their joined density may as well make Eddie an oven still bearing forth residual warmth after the baking of an apple pie.

Whether it is the lush softness of her lips or the vaguely inhuman sharpness of her teeth dragging their way across his skin, seeking his mouth and his pulse, Eddie cannot help but feel -- truly feel -- the heights of Beth's adoration.

Her murmur against the shell of his ear sends a frisson of goosebumps across his body.

He doesn't know what he did to deserve her. He only knows that he will hold on to what they have with everything he's got. With every limb and tentacle… with every word and every beat of his heart.

Gently, he circles an arm around her waist and tugs her just that much closer, meeting her gaze with his own. He feels his heart swelling inside his chest, straining so tight against him that it threatens to crawl up his throat and make his eyes water.

He is deeply, madly in love.

"My whole life… I've never been happier."

[cool-in-stuart-fl]

Stuart, FL, Vibrant Food Scene And Nightlife

Stuart, Florida, is a destination that boasts of its vibrant nightlife and an array of restaurants that cater to different tastes. From Riverwalk Cafe & Oyster Bar to Krua Thai Asian Cuisine and La Forchetta, the city of Stuart is famous for providing diverse dining options and an exciting entertainment scene. Notably, living in Stuart is 4% cheaper than the cost of living in Florida on average and 5% lower than the national average. The sales tax rate is also lower than the national average, making Stuart a more affordable living place. Stuart offers an excellent opportunity to enjoy a fulfilling life with its diverse dining options, exciting nightlife, and a promising job market.

Family-friendly apartment in Stuart, FL

Are you searching for a safe, comfortable, family-friendly apartment in Stuart, FL? Look no further than Haney Creek Crossing. This apartment complex was designed and built with the residents' needs in mind. It has a range of amenities and features that will make you feel right at home. The spacious floor plans with meticulously maintained sidewalks within the community and the luxurious private backyards with expansive patios and convenient storage areas are just a few of the things that make these apartments stand out. The charming covered front porches add a touch of elegance, elevating the overall aesthetic appeal of your dream home. You will be absolutely captivated by the breathtaking landscaping and tranquil ambiance that envelop you. For any inquiries, please call (772) 758 - 7519.

Stuart Heritage, Inc

Stuart Heritage, Inc., established in 1988, is a museum dedicated to preserving the rich heritage and artifacts of Stuart and its surrounding communities. The museum, which is housed in a charming building behind the Stuart Police Station, has grown steadily over the years due to the generous contributions of families living in the area for generations. Nearly 80 percent of the artifacts in the inventory have been sourced locally, showcasing the deep connection between the collection and the community. The museum's humble beginnings were marked by the generous contributions of various artifacts, including a notable collection donated by Capt. Francis Adams. The museum's dedication to preserving the rich history and heritage of Stuart and Martin County is evident in its extensive collection. Everyone must visit once in their lifetime!

Strong winds destroyed Stuart Nonprofit's tree tent

Last night, a Stuart-based nonprofit organization faced a major setback as its tent at Ascent Church was severely damaged by high winds. The tent was meant to serve as a location for selling Christmas trees to raise funds for children globally and in Martin County. Unfortunately, the wet weather and strong wind gusts affecting the Treasure Coast and Palm Beach County caused the tent to be completely destroyed. As a result, the organization is now calling for assistance from the public to locate and install a new tent before the Black Friday sale begins. It's worth noting that the group plans to open the sale on Monday. Thankfully, there have been no other reports of damage or injuries.

Link to maps

Stuart Heritage Museum 161 SW Flagler Ave, Stuart, FL 34994, United States Head southeast toward SW St Lucie Ave 400 ft Turn right onto SW St Lucie Ave 148 ft At the traffic circle, take the 1st exit onto S Dixie Hwy 1.8 mi Continue onto SE Green River Pkwy 0.2 mi At the traffic circle, take the 3rd exit onto NW Baker Rd 0.1 mi Turn left onto Cavendish Ct Destination will be on the right 89 ft Haney Creek Crossing 1398 Cavendish Ct, Stuart, FL 34994, United States

[briarruler]

I've long (aka before Dragon Age: Inquisition confirmed it was possible) thought it would be funny (or perhaps ironic would be a better word) if the Rite of Tranquillity started getting used on non-mages.

Admittedly this started as a: so the activities of the Tranquil fund the Circles of Magi, and if they make such valuable slaves (as the only non-dwarves who can handle Lyrium, they make enchanted objects and being Tranquil they tend to be obedient and non-resisting) then what is stopping the Templars from falsely accusing people of being Mages for the purpose of making them Tranquil or simply abducting random people and shipping them off to a different Circle for Tranquillity so people wouldn't recognise them?

Then there was a period of: why isn't the Tevinter Imperium full of Tranquil? Wouldn't they make perfect slaves?

And my current thoughts are more: so what if a Mage learnt how the Rite of Tranquillity is done and decided to go around making important people Tranquil?

I presume that dwarves (having no connection to the Fade) and Fade Spirits (being made of the Fade) are immune to the Rite of Tranquillity but that everyone else would be fair game for being made Tranquil.

[henryobsessed]

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 1

Summary: Jessie has completed Veterinarian school, after the death of her aunt has moved back to her home town.

word Count: 2013

A/N hello How are you all doing? we are in lockdown again here in Victoria Australia, I hope that means more time to write :)

Prologue

Chapter 1

Jessie sank into her plush foe leather couch; it had been a month since she had returned to her hometown and surprisingly her business was thriving. Even though she had yet to treat any wildlife she had a steady stream of cats, dogs, birds, ferrets, and other assortments of domestic animals heading through her doors. A big surprise to her was the number of cattle ranchers who on her arrival had asked her to make house calls to assess their cattle. Normally they paid for someone to come out to their co-op from the neighbouring bigger city. Now she was here if she could gain their trust, she would be set.

She looked around at her aunt’s old house, so many beautiful memories, Bet had been her best friend apart from the animals and had encouraged her to follow her dreams, she had even pitched in to her college fund when her parents’ life insurances had not been quite enough. She pictured her aunt standing at the stove, cooking her pancakes, grey hair piled atop her head, apron wrapped around her tall slender body, excited to cook for “The Vet” as she had lovingly called her even before she started her degree.

The last time they had spent time together she had sat on the couch, pancakes in hand. Her honey brown eyes pinning Jessie to her seat as her age roughened voice pleaded, “You can’t keep shutting people out Jessie, you have to open yourself to the possibility that you might find love, or even a good friend. You’re an adult now, and I won’t be around forever.” Her eyes misting as she whispered, “I worry about you honey, I don’t want you living your life alone like I did.”

Jessie had hugged her aunt pulling her in tight as she felt her sweet Bet’s distress. She had never asked why she was on her own, caught up in her own dramas. She had loved that it was just the two of them. But now she wondered if she had been too selfish. Once she was at college, her aunt was alone again. As if validating her aunt’s concern’s, she had received a call, a week after returning back to her last month of college. Her Aunt had suffered a major heart attack at work. Even though she was in the hospital when it had occurred, they were unable to save her. It had been a hard few months no one had come by the house for the funeral, it had just been the two of them. The local lawyer had encouraged her to sell up and move to a more populated area saying they had no need for a vet, and she had considered it. But a part of her still felt connected to the land, connected to those buried deep within the woods around their house.

He phone buzzed bringing her out of her musings, shaking the tired fog from her head she peeked at the antique gold clock above the mantel 11pm, Picking up the phone she heard a timid voice answer “Is this the vet, the one that came to our ranch last week?” mind pulled into action she answered “ yes this is the Vet what can I do for you?” a shaky breath let out as the young man responded, “I’m sorry for calling so late, My name is Thomas, my dad owns Ride em ranch. I was out checking traps around the property line, I hate them so much but dad insists we have them, a wolf has been caught. If I don’t get him out of here soon my Dad or one of the hands will come and kill him. Please what do I do?” sitting up Jessie talked in a calm voice to the boy, ��First thing how is the wolf behaving?” getting up Jessie pulled her coat on whilst heading for the car, “He’s growling and whimpering at the same time ma’am, I think he would bite me if I got to close, but I can see he is in a lot of pain.” Opening the door to her pickup she jumped in glad her veterinarian bag was already in the back. “Ok Thomas tell me where you are, I am on my way”

Jessie was focused looking for the a boy in a red checked shirt and dark blue jeans, a part of her was excited, she was finally able to help a wolf, but another part of her was worried she was too late. There waving his arms illuminated by the high beams of her truck she saw Thomas, he had blond hair, brown eyes, and stood around 6 ft 3 although he had not filled out yes so even with his height looked like a young man.

Pulling up she could see his obvious fretting as he didn’t stop to talk but rather, as soon as she had her bag, started moving back into the forest. The boy was so intent on getting her there he didn’t say a word, however the closer they got the more evident it was the animal was in great distress. Long lone howls could be heard along with whimpers, when Thomas broke into the area where the wolf was his whimpers changed to savage snapping of his teeth and loud growls interrupted by his whines. The was until Jessie stepped into the opening, She could have sworn the wolf looked right at her with shock before it laid its head down and quietened. Jessie was amazed, its behaviour was one of submission and in its current state was highly unusual. She walked closer, slowly talking to the animal, “Hey boy, your ok, I’m here to help ok. Will you let me help you?”

She knelt just outside of the range where the wolf could reach her and reached into the bag, the majestic creature watched her closely but gone was the snarls and defensive growling. All that was left was his pain filled whimper, quickly assessing his weight she pulled a small tranquilizer gun out along with some prefilled darts. On seeing the gun he let out a long mournful howl that tore at her heart, “I’m sorry, but this will make you feel better I promise.” Taking aim she shot into his flank. He let out a soft yelp, they kept eye contact as he slowly lowered his eye lids.

Ok Thomas we need to move fast, I had to guess his weight and even though I am sure I’ve have put him out for the night I can’t guarantee that.” Together they moved to the brown black creature, jessie made note as they together removed the trap from its leg that the creature had seen better days. His hair was matted in places and there were other areas where the fur was missing showing signs of fights that it had been in. Carefully after assessing the rest of its body, Thomas and Jessie lifted the creature which from tail to muzzle would have been 6 ft 5 however it showed malnutrition and was much lighter that she would have expected for a creature of its size and age. In fact had Thomas not been there to help she would have been able to lift the wolf herself which said a lot for its condition. Sadness filled her as they carefully placed it in the back of the truck. Once he was securely placed in the back she turned to the young man “Thank you Thomas, I appreciate your help and your kindness” Thomas looked down at his feet for a moment before signing, “Please don’t tell my pa, he would think I was a pansy for doing this. What he fails to understand is we need to work with the wolves without them….. well we need them. Thank you for coming, I hope he survives.”

Jessie watched the tall young man in her rear vision as she dove away, there was something special about him.

On reaching her clinic she bought out a trolley and carefully picked up the wolf playing him down and wheeled him into the treatment rooms. Her first priority was x-ray the leg and make sure it wasn’t broken, as she moved around the room her other patients called out to her. A small Tibetan spaniel who was in for cherry eye surgery whimpered at her before settling down in it’s cage, along with a tabby who was recovering from a broken leg, who at all the noise hissed at her. “ohh come now calm down, we have to help this poor creature ok. I expect you both to keep him company as he recovers.” She quickly took the x-rays dismayed to see that the trap had indeed crushed his ulna and radius on the right leg. The night was long as she reset the leg and applied a cast. The sun was coming up, and her young assistant joe was walking in the front door as she finished setting the wolf up in a special cage.

Joe taken aback walked around to peer into the cage, “OMG Jessie, where did you find this boy? He is gorgeous and yet has seen better days.” Exhausted she just stood wiping her hands on her apron and started cleaning, “you look like you need a break Jessie, why don’t you go home, I’ll reschedule your non important appointments and push the urgent ones back to this afternoon so you can get some sleep.” Grateful she nodded her thanks and left the Joe to care for the grumpy cat, and Tibbey.

Jessie’s dreams were plagued with images of the wolf, his eyes that held so much pain caused her heart to constrict. The resemblance to the those she had buried so many years ago could not have been a coincidence. As she tossed and turned the images grew bolder, the wolfs from long ago circled her, she felt no fear only curiousness as they sniffed at her before one by one they laid at her feet. She knelt and stroked each one, reassuring them that she would take care of him. A loud sound broke into the now peaceful dream, her mind now fussy she picked up the phone, “Jessie” the frantic voice of her assistant invaded her calm “Jessie you have to get down here, the wolf woke up and is tearing at the cage. I can’t even get close enough to change the fluid bag. I’m scared he is going to break out.” Jumping out of bed she ran to grab her bag, not even worried that she was still in her pajamas she ran to her truck. The clinic was only 5 mins by car, but she was the only one authorised to use the tranqu gun.

Running into the clinic she could hear the panicked snarls and snaps of the wolf, the sound of the metal clanging and it tried to escape. Gun in hand she ran into the room, as Joe opened the door and her eyes met that of the wolf the strangest thing happened. Just as it had in the forest, the wolf calmed, whined and laid its head down. “well I never!!” Joe breathed in exasperation, “Teach me Obi wan, Tell me your secrets” if she hadn’t been so socked herself she would have laughed at Joe’s comment. However this was not normal wolf behaviour. Taking a risk she moved forward and sat before the creature, an odd feeling settling in her stomach as joe handed her the new bag. Talking in a calm voice she addressed the canine, “This will help you feel better ok” his eyes locked with hers as he whimpered. Risking everything she hooked up the new bag then opened the cage, going against her training she reached in and caressed him. She felt his body relax the more she stroked his neck and flank until he was once again asleep. Replacing the latch on the door she looked back a Joe both confused and amazed.

Chapter 2

I have tagged people from my last story if you wish to be removed please let me know 😊

@legendarywizarddetective @blakerogue @ladamari68 @witcherfan @sillyrabbit81 @littlefreya

@stephartrave @angelcavill66 @fatefuldestinies @bageracat

​@fortheloveoftradition @kmuir1 @fanfictionaddiction99 @zealoushound @thenonrealloser @xobriellaxo24 @jessayw

@abschaffer2 @elena-myth @shy-violet-soul @hisnamewasmojito @tumblrninia @thereisa8ella@cavilladdict @its–fandom–darling @omgkatinka @leaena2go@littlefreya @elena-myth @bluedog63 @oh-for-fic-sake @legendarywizarddetective @foodieforthoughts @lady-love88 @ladamari68 @elena-myth @viking-raider @hisnamewasmojito @its–fandom–darling @fysaelys @zurcda @allthingsatlanta13 @bageracat @cecilegoestoparis

@meandmycherrytree

@f4iryerin @amberangel112 @silllyrabbit81 @crippledcatlady @multifandomlover1 @confusednerd09 @sycochick @littlefreya @absolutepie @jajphcfan @mandolover86 @ladamari68 @whereismymindlaura @antepatch @fanficforfun @thereisa8ella @davidbuddbg @ethandaddyramseyx@gayathriiii @nemessisvoninpirian@kath94210 @ladamari68@fancysthings @awallflowerstream @oddduckthatgirl@mcz02057 @gmfbaby @meanerface@adorable-hen @hrrypinks @melaniqueen2 @f4iryerin​ @biancawlf@tayxbri @whip111stuff​@kellynkeskoski @mzchievous-blog @pixie88 @marytudorbrandon @wolfsmom1 @amberangel112 @marantha

[gallickingun]

moving target

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki’s reputation needs a little work. His manager suggests he take a job as a personal bodyguard to one of the donor’s daughter to try and increase his social standing. Bakugou agrees, reminding himself that whoever he’s babysitting is nothing more than a glorified paycheck, a stepping ladder to get closer to surpassing even All Might in hero status. But, when you’re kidnapped, he has to face the truth that you might mean more to him than he planned.

Rating: T for Teen Warnings: language, a little graphic violence, a creepy scene there for a second, a semi-spicy scene, etc.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count: 12,310 (because i have NO CHILL!)

request more from this prompt list!

“Absolutely not,” Bakugo huffs, kicking his boots up on the glass table in front of him, “I will not be some brat’s babysitter.”

His manager huffs, stepping forward, “Listen, your PR ratings are low. Helping out a big donor, being in the public eye actually helping will boost your ratings. Higher ratings mean more screen time which means more money, and eventually, a better gig.”

“...fine.”

As much as he hated to admit it, he was slipping through the ranks. Bakugo found it easy to rescue people, to punch out bad guys, but the press bit was where he severely lacked any and all prowess. 

It only took one wrong encounter with a news reporter for Bakugo’s ratings to tank, which meant he was getting fewer sponsorship agreements and even less screen time on the nightly news. He needed this. 

He hated this.

The way the suit clung to his shoulders reminded him of Ochako’s original hero costume from high school. All he had to do was send in his measurements, and the agency had five freshly pressed, perfectly tailored suits delivered to his apartment by the next morning. Still, he wished he was wearing his gauntlets and face mask instead of this silken suit.

His eyes wandered over the mansion he was currently standing in front of, the multiple stories forcing him to crane his neck to take it all in. Bakugo snorts, rolling his eyes as he steps out of the dark SUV, stepping up the flight of stairs to the large, intricate front door. He barely has time to knock before an older gentleman is opening the door, greeting him with a shrill accent.

“You must be here for the lady,” he makes way for Bakugo to walk in the door. The other two security guards are stalking around the homestead, securing the borders, so he walks in alone.

He can make out your figure sitting at the kitchen table, back to the foyer where he’s making his entrance. He read your file, studied your photos. You’re every bit as bratty as he assumed you would be when he was first offered the position. Your father was such a high contributor to the agency, and yet all of those dollars spent meant nothing. You were some version of a hedge fund baby - you went off to school with not a care in the world, money no object as you blitzed through life. 

Bakugo despises everything that you and your family stand for. He came from nothing, built himself from the dirt up. Once he got his quirk, he swore he would never let anyone look down on him again, especially not those who were born endowed.

The older man calls your name and your head bobs at the sound before you turn in your chair, “Oh, is the next one here already, Miles?”

Next one? Bakugo thinks to himself. He didn’t hear about anyone before him. There were other bodyguards?

Miles, the butler-esque man standing in between you and Bakugo, chuckles, turning his head to slyly gaze at the young man in the foyer, “Ah, yes. The next one is here, ma’am.”

You laugh and slowly make your way across the room to inspect your newest victim. He’s wearing a dark suit, in contrast to his pale hair and light eyes. You tug at his tie and he snatches you by the wrists, “It’s expensive. Don’t touch.”

Raising a brow, you circle around him, “My daddy could buy you, hero, so don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Bakugo decides he doesn’t like the way the word ‘hero’ comes out of your mouth; like acid dripping from your tongue. He feels sweat begin to gather in his palms and he has to wring his hands out so a fireworks show doesn’t start on day one. God, he’s never wanted to wear his flashy costume so much in his life. Anything to get your eyes off of him.

“More of a briefs guy myself,” he offers after a beat, looking at you over his shoulder.

You’re smirking, the start of a giggle on your lips, “Oh, I’m gonna like you.”

Something other than nitroglycerin bubbles in his belly, and Bakugo isn’t quite sure how to feel about it.

-

It didn’t take long for him to realize that you were a handful and a half. 

You never tell him where you’re going, you refuse to keep your phone on anything but silent, and he swears that you’re trying to evade him everywhere you go.

“Dammit,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes as you slip away from him in a crowd.

Bakugo flanks off to the side, barely able to make out the top of your head as you push your way through the marketplace. He memorized your outfit - a pretty sundress and a pair of sandals, purse slung over your shoulder - so he should be able to spot you amidst the others. 

He finally makes out your profile, but you’ve changed. There’s now a jacket covering your shoulders, a sun hat on your head. Bakugo narrows his eyes, but despite his rage at losing you, a small smirk works its way on his lips at the fire you have within yourself to try and escape him despite the circumstance.

You’re turning down a side street when you feel your body pressed against the brick wall. A gasp barely leaves your mouth before you lean back and jut your elbow into his solar plexus, stepping on the inside of his foot. A grunt leaves his mouth and you swivel to knee him in the groin, but your knee is caught between a pair of strong hands just as your knee cap brushes the fabric of his suit pants.

“Very funny,” he mutters, hooking his palm around your thigh to ensure you won’t wriggle free.

You push at his shoulders and he’s surprised at the fiery expression on your face, your nose scrunched and brows furrowed, “Get off me!”

Bakugo releases your knee and your foot stomps on his toe again, a bruise already forming. His nostrils flare as he glares down at you. You’re quick to straighten your spine, matching his stare with one of your own.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Bakugo uses his thumb and index finger to tilt your chin upward, “Gonna try to play me like a little shit?”

You’re slapping him before he can process it, “I don’t need your protection. I’m fine on my own.”

Your answer surprises him, but the action of being slapped pisses him off. He growls down at you, “You ungrateful little…”

“Go ahead,” you shrug, pushing your way out of his hold, “leave, just like all the others.”

Bakugo follows behind you, muttering something into his earpiece that you can’t hear. Frustrated tears cloud the edges of your vision, but the sunshine clears your mind as you step back onto the street. 

“You forget,” he sidles up next to you, “it’s my job to keep you safe. You run off, I don’t get a paycheck.”

The laugh that parts your lips makes him look down at you, the hat hiding part of your face so he can’t quite make out exactly what you’re feeling. He's never been a bodyguard before, but something tells him that this is going to turn out much different than he expected. 

"Good to know as long as my daddy is feeding you money, you'll stalk me like an animal." You sigh, crossing your arms over your body as you walk toward the bridge overlooking the city. "You're lucky, then, all my father knows how to do is shovel money at people."

Something twinges within Bakugo's chest, like an organ begging to pop within his body. He watches as you lean forward against the bridge, your hands wafting in the wind as you wave them around.

If he had to say it, Bakugo would agree that you were pretty. Your frame was perfect, the profile of your face made for a beautiful shadow. Your eyes lit up even underneath the shade of the brim of your hat, and he wants to smack himself for noticing.

"Sorry," you break him out of his trance, "I don't mean to bore you, I know you're not here for my life story. Paycheck only."

There's a hint of hurt in your voice and he becomes curious - is this your normal? Are the only people in your life those who wish to drain your family bank account dry? He certainly can't relate; his family was never wealthy and even now, starting his pro hero journey is far from glamorous. The only reason he has a rooftop apartment is because the agency sponsored it, and Kirishima shares it with him. 

Bakugo leans against the bridge, back to the water so he can watch for any threats behind you, "I'm your new best friend, sweetheart. Your daddy pays me to be all up in your business."

You reach out to smack his arm, but this one has much less force than the prior one you landed to his face. He winces dramatically, scrunching his side as if absorbing the impact. You can't help but snicker, tucking your nose against your shoulder.

Bakugo basks in the warmth of the afternoon sun, taking in the golden hour. There are times he wishes he could be fully decked out in his explosive gear, and then there are other times, when his restless heart finds tranquility in the quiet of the mundane. 

People pass, wind blows, and yet his body remains at peace.

-

You’re drunk. 

Bakugo hates when you’re drunk.

You’re sloppy and messy and handsy, oh god are you handsy. He’s watching from the bar, paying attention as you slur your words to the bartender and giggle with your best friend beside you. Every instinct in him tells his body to drag your ass back home, but he knows you’d put him through the ringer for it. Plus, that’s not his job anyway. His job is only to keep you safe.

So, as long as you don’t kill yourself stumbling out of the club, he’ll still get paid.

You’re touching his waistline as you pass him, laughing up at him with those bright, glassy eyes you always get after vodka hits your veins. You curl your fingers into his waistband and he has to push every instinct of his deep down so he doesn’t flip you over the bar.

“‘Suki?” you drawl, leaning your body into him so the person behind you can pass.

He tilts his head, acknowledging you in silence. You tug on his belt loops, “Gonna go to the bathr’m, okay?” 

You know this means he has to follow you - he has to follow you everywhere. 

You slip your hand into his, a habit you’ve picked up when you’re on the other side of sober, and squeeze his palm before tugging him towards the bathroom. You release him before you slip in the door, allowing him to stand guard like a good dog does.

Bakugo counts the seconds in his mind, coming up on six minutes makes his heartbeat a little faster. Once he’s gotten to nine, his palms are sweating. Small fireworks echo on his fingertips, the air scenting of ash as he starts to become worried.

He calls your name, knocking on the door three times consecutively. There’s no response from the other side, save a muffled sound that doesn’t resemble your tone. He crosses his arms over his chest and stamps his foot into the ground, his palms itching to slip into his gauntlets; he’d make much better use of the nitroglycerin collecting on his skin then.

After eleven minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Bakugo pushes the door in.

There’s no sounds of wretching or of peeing, so he’s at a loss. All of the stall doors are open, and your body is nowhere to be found. Bakugo presses his thumb against the small transmitter in his ear, asking the others if they saw you leaving the building.

As he turns, he notices an employee-only door. His feet are carrying him before his mind can catch up, muttering something into the communications unit before curling his palms to fists. He kicks the door in and just barely catches the sight of your body being dragged out the other side, eyes wide as you reach for him.

Bakugo is propelling himself forward with his blasts immediately, a shockwave rippling through the small employee room, but he doesn’t care. Somehow he manages to compose himself long enough to alert the rest of the team.

All he can see is red as he busts down the door. You’re his mission, the one thing that he needed to protect, and his whole being quivers at the idea that he’s failed.

Your voice is muffled but he can still hear you as they drag you down the alleyway. He’s got to make a precise blast so he doesn’t burn you, but still manages to knock the bad guys off their feet.

“Fuckin’ suit,” he mutters, praying to whoever is listening that he’ll be able to wear his suit, or at least some version of it, when he’s on guard duty going forward. Bakugo burns through the sleeves, the cloth turning to ash as he ignites his power.

He smirks, “Hey, dipshits!”

The two holding you turn at the sound of his voice, their faces covered by masks. Bakugo continues to push forward, bright flashes of orange and yellow lighting the alley behind him. He’s laughing maniacally now, because this is what he came for. He came for the bloodlust, he came for the mission. He came for the villains.

“Got ya,” Bakugo mutters before turning his palm to face the guy on your right who's much taller. The explosion knocks all three of you backward, incapacitating the one he targeted. The other scrambles to his feet, yanking on your body to try and drag you toward a black SUV parked on the side of the road not too far away.

You’re fighting back, Bakugo notices. You’re thrashing and screaming, trying to kick him in the shins from your position on the ground. Your whole body is like one big firecracker, arms and legs wailing at the guy. The hero can’t help but feel a swell of pride.

He propels himself forward, flipping in the air to stand tall on the opposite side of the perpetrator, hand held directly in the guy’s face - a threat, not a warning.

Bakugou chuckles, “Where you goin’, shithead?”

There’s a loud crunch of his bones when Bakugo lands a perfect strike between his eyes. He shakes his fists, thinking to himself that he should probably pick boxing back up, and turns to look at you.

The sight of your face smeared with tears, body shaking as you try not to cry. Your chest heaves with emotion as you try to sit up in the alleyway, your body a mess of limbs.

“Hey,” he’s surprisingly gentle as he squats in front of you. “Let me get that thing off you.”

He’s talking about the tape on your mouth. You stop squirming for a moment and he peels the sticky substance away from your mouth. You wince as he yanks it from your hands and feet, throat tight while you wait. 

Secure the payload, Bakugo thinks, remembering All Might’s lessons from back at U.A. He let Deku get the better of him back then, but now he’s much more focused and precise. There is less collateral this time.

Bakugo helps you to your feet, holding your hands as you clamber to stand upright. Your spine straightens and he didn’t realize you’d lost your shoes sometime in the struggle, bringing your height below his.

There is a tiny thing within him that twinges at the sight of you, all in disarray.

He goes to ask you how you’re feeling, how you’re holding up, but something in him catches the words like a fish hook in his throat. It reels his concern back in, pulling it to the acid of his belly so it can die there.

Secure the payload. 

That’s all you are to him - a paycheck, a payload, a mission.

“Just get me the hell home,” you manage, shoving yourself past him. “I’m sick of this place.”

-

“The hell?!” Bakugo is shouting now, hands booming at his sides, “You didn’t think that was something you should’ve told me before we started this job?!”

His agent sighs from the other end of the receiver, “Our officers are on a tight leash, they can’t give us any information that might leak.”

“You think I'm a rat!?” Bakugo snaps, his spine erect as he wishes his quirk were warping so he could whoop someone’s ass for keeping this from him. 

“No, but if you were tortured, it was possible. These are big syndicates after their family, specifically targeting the daughter.” She takes a pause, waiting to see if the hero might retort. When he doesn’t, she breathes in audibly and continues, “Those were low level thugs at the club a couple of weeks ago. They have no connections, and they weren’t high enough on the food chain to have any information they could give us. Everything was nameless and faceless.”

“I swear to god,” Bakugo paces, ripping his hands through his hair, “I still can’t believe you didn’t think this was something you should’ve fucking told me! I thought I was just looking after some spoiled brat, and now you’re telling me this?!”

He hears his given name called out from your bedroom a few halls over and his attention spikes. The feel of sweat on his skin leads to the expelling of crackling explosions as he turns to walk towards your room.

“You better give me everything,” he seethes before hanging up.

There’s a sarcastic remark sitting on the tip of his tongue as he enters your room, but he’s shocked to find you still asleep. Bakugo steps closer, just to be sure, and something tightens in his chest at the sight of you curled in on yourself, brow tightly knit as you whimper under your breath.

Bakugo turns against any and every instinct in his body as he crouches next to your bed, his palm brushing gently over your back. He can hear Kirishima in his head, mocking him for being soft.

“The great Bakugo Katsuki, brought to his knees by a mere mortal!” Kirishima laughs, throwing his head back. He removes his face guard and boots at the table, his hands on his hips as he stares across the space at Bakugo, “You’ve changed since you started this job, man. I gotta say, I think you caring about others is really great. You’re manning up, dude!”

Bakugo accepts the high five from his friend, but not without a few miniature explosions popping off between their hands as he does so.

Kirishima is stuck clutching his palm to his chest as Bakugo swaggers away, a smirk on his face. 

“Maybe I was wrong,” Kirishima sighs, “Maybe you haven’t changed a bit.”

Your bleary eyes bring him back to reality, your hand reaching out to touch his face. You blink slowly, a sleepy grin on your face.

“‘Suki,” you mumble, your cheek pressed into the pillow.

If you were awake, he wouldn’t let you touch him like this. He would keep you at an arm’s length, crimson irises focused on your every move. However, you won’t remember this in the morning, and maybe that’s the only reason that he’s actually leaning into your palm. 

“Nightmares again?” he asks.

The phone call from earlier still rings in his head, his agent’s voice reverberating around. He looks at you a little differently now, he thinks, although he’d never admit it aloud.

You’re pouting, your hand falling from his face to tuck back under your chin. You nod and mumble something under your breath that he can’t quite make out, so he shifts closer. Bakugo sighs, “I’m here, all right? No need to have nightmares.”

You nod and pull the covers back to your chin and close your eyes, “Alright, ‘Suki.”

He stays squatted next to you until you’re snoring again, chest rising and falling consistently. He’s not sure why his body does what it does, but he reaches out and smoothes his thumb over the creases in your forehead until your face relaxes in your slumber.

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” he mutters with a grin, pushing your hair away from his face.

As he stands to his feet, he catches the sight of his dumbstruck face in your mirror, and he’s appalled. He’s not scowling, but instead there is the trace of a smile on his lips. Bakugo isn’t sure of the last time he genuinely smiled at something other than the breaking of bones.

Heat gathers in his hands and he has to force himself from blasting the mirror to shards, “Fuckin’ dumbass.”

-

“Can you find her?”

“No, have you seen her?”

“Last time I saw her, she was headed to the library.”

“And you didn’t think to.. Follow her?” 

“Well-”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Bakugo pushes past one of the other bodyguards, shoving towards the direction of the library.

He’s slipping through the doorway to check around the bookshelves for your body. He’s getting ready to call for you when he hears your voice. 

“If you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask.”

“Tch,” Bakugo narrows his eyes, looking up.

You’re curled up in the loft, your body wrapped in a blanket with a book in your lap. There’s a small breakfast nook-like area looking out onto the lake in the center of the back lawn, moonlight filtering in through the etched glass.

You tuck your feet underneath yourself and pat the open space next to you, gesturing for him to take a seat. He mutters something into his ear piece before climbing the ladder to join you in the loft. He’s sitting opposite of you, his arms crossed as he looks down at the ground below.

“This whole escaping thing is getting on my damn nerves,” Bakugo snaps at you, nudging your thigh with his boot. “Would it kill you to stay in one place for more than a few seconds?”

Shrugging, you rest your arm on his leg, palm cupping his calf, “But then where would the fun be?”

“I’d love to not have to chase you around for one damn day in my life.” Bakugo licks his lips and rests his head back against the wall, eyes tracking over every square inch of the backyard as he looks out the window. His palms crackle in his lap, itching to be let loose on the world.

“Why did you take this job?”

The question comes out of nowhere, something he wasn’t prepared to have to think about. Bakugo’s voice is gruff when he speaks his answer, “My agent told me my reputation needed some work. Apparently I’m not a fuckin’ icon, or whatever.”

Your laughter doesn’t piss him off as much as it used to. You squeeze his calf and tilt your head back so you’re leaning on the wall, “Oh, you having a little image problem, Sparky?”

Bakugo narrows his eyes at you, but there’s no intent behind it. He sighs, “Your dad donates a lot to our agency. My manager told me to take it. Nothing else to it.”

“You miss the fight, though, don’t you?” Your eyes are swirling with some mixture of curiosity and something else he can’t quite make out. You curl your free hand into a fist in your lap, “I’ll bet beating guys heads in is the best feeling, isn’t it?”

If he wasn’t expecting your initial question, he really isn’t expecting those words when they tumble out of your lips. And he really wasn’t anticipating the utter excitement in your tone, either. A pristine girl like you, fantasizing about bashing villains? 

Either you were faking it, or you’re too good to be true.

You chuckle, “I’ve always loved your fighting style, at least what I could see of it. Your quirk is so cool, so useful.”

Your voice is almost wistful now, the edges of your lips upturned in a grin. You’re biting your lip in consideration and his leg feels cold when you remove your palm from it, wringing your hands together in your lap.

The hysteria on the cusp of your voice reminds him of his own mania in battle - the way he bares his teeth when he lets his gauntlets loose; the way his palms crackle as he approaches another guy from behind; the anticipation settled in his chest every time they suit up. 

Bakugo tilts his head, “What’s your quirk?”

“I-I don’t have-” 

Your voice is too nervous, too high-pitched. He wants to laugh at your obvious lie, but instead he holds up his palm and lets loose a few explosions, sparking the air between the two of you with orange and ash.

The lingering scent in the air reminds you of marshmallows over a campfire, and you realize it’s what you’ve been smelling on him for months. You never paid much attention to how his quirk works, all you’ve ever known is that he has an explosive ability that matches his hot-headed personality.

“My sweat contains nitroglycerin,” Bakugo explains when he notices your look of bewilderment. He finds his face smoothing into a smile as you reach out and grasp him by the wrist. “It’s explosive, obviously. I use my gauntlets in my hero suit to store it so I can use larger impacts to take down buildings or bad guys, or both.”

You brush your thumb over the bumps of his palm, up over his fingers. Quirks have always fascinated you, mostly because your father indulges in every aspect of them save for having one.

“Wow,” you say finally, voice faraway.

He swears your eyes are glittering with the way the moonlight refracts off of the glass of the window. His chest heaves as you push your way closer to grab his other hand out of his lap. The way you trace over the lines in his palms as if they have all the answers makes his shoulders perk with pride.

“When did you get your quirk?” you ask.

“I think I was like, five, or some shit, I don’t remember.” Bakugo can feel himself retreating, his walls shrinking in fear as you get too close. Your body heat mixes with his own and his eyes almost cross at the dizzying feeling of your proximity.

You are chewing on your lower lip and his mind slips in the fog to wonder what it might feel like if you tugged on his mouth like that.

He’s about to stand up and walk away because he can’t- no, he won’t- feel these things for you. You’re a paycheck, an objective, nothing more. Just like the weapon from his U.A. classes - all he has to do is protect you, and his ratings will rise and he’ll be able to fall back into the higher ranks of heroes. And then he’ll be able to leave.

“My parents don’t have quirks,” your laugh is dry, much unlike your giggles from earlier. You are smiling but it’s not making your eyes wrinkle at the edges like usual, “I think that’s why my dad invests so much money into them; maybe he’s projecting. Or maybe he’s living vicariously through his investments, I’m not sure.”

Bakugo hears you suck in a breath and there’s a pain in his chest at the sound, “When I got my quirk, my dad was so scared of me. As soon as it started showing, he built me my own wing in the house and brought Miles in to take care of me.”

Your hands fall away from his, tucked into your midsection so you can worry over your shirt as you speak. “I don’t think I’ve had a real conversation with my dad since I was little, not anything that mattered, anyway. When he shipped me off to college, he would call every now and then, but all we talked about were the heroes he was betting on.”

You lick your lips and laugh again, this one turning dark. Your chest is caving in as all of the memories of your father’s distance play on loop, threatening to pull you under again.

“No one knows I have a quirk,” you admit breathlessly, finally looking him in the eyes. “I think it’s his twisted way of keeping me, and everyone else, safe.”

Bakugo wants to hold you, any part of you, but there is a pin still in his body’s grenade, keeping him from you. He swallows the growing lump in his throat and tries his hardest to control the sweat in his palms at your story. He’s never heard your voice this chilling before; normally you are a sunbeam incarnate, walking around brightening everything you touch, even if you’re a bit mischievous sometimes. 

“I can manipulate organic matter,” you say. “Anything living.”

The reality of what all facets of that statement can mean makes Bakugo’s muscles ache.

You’re chuckling at the expression on his face, “Yeah, exactly. Of course you’d want to keep me hidden away.”

“No,” he shakes his head.

As if to prove to him that you’re nothing more than a liability, you raise your palm in the air and summon the flowers sitting in the vase just a few feet away from you forward. The budding floral prongs are twirling in tandem with the motions of your fingers. In a display of your power, you make the flowers walk as if their stems were legs, up Bakugo’s thigh and over his knee, all the way down to the toe of his boot.

Once they’re close enough to you, you levitate them in the air again, the pink and yellow petals beautiful even in the shadows of the night.

Bakugo’s eyes go wide as the flowers begin to lose their color, the shades of spring colors beginning to desaturate until they’re nothing but brown, wilted buds. You curl your hand into a fist and the flowers ball up accordingly, mushing together until they are no longer recognizable.

“Holy shit,” Bakugo’s eyes track the object as you release your control over it and the squashed flowers drop with a thud into your palm.

You’re waiting for him to become frightened of you, to look at you with wide eyes as he fears for his own life. That’s what your father did when you showed the beginning signs of your quirk. He shoved you in a box, frightened you’d turn out something fierce, something evil.

“Do it again.”

Your voice catches in your throat, a short gasp parting your lips, “Wh-Wha-”

“You’re a fucking badass,” Bakugo shifts closer to you, the personal space he usually keeps between the two of you forgotten. “Can you do it again? With something else?”

“Y-You want me…” Your eyes are wide, pupils dilating as you gaze up at him. He’s smiling like a madman but it makes your heart light on fire, “Sure.”

You spend the next hour or so grabbing different living things from around the room, twisting them and manipulating them. Bakugo’s eyes follow your every movement, every motion. His jaw hangs slightly open as he watches on in fascination, your quirk a new experience for him.

You turn to look over the balcony, wondering if there might be anything you can grab from down there, when you feel his chest press against your back. He’s just leaning up to scout the area, but his chin might as well rest on your shoulder with his closeness. You pinpoint a basket of fruit at the bottom of the stairs near the entryway and you concentrate to see what types of fruit there are.

“Apple or pear?” you ask, turning just enough to look him in the eyes beside you.

He tilts his head, “Pear, why the hell not?”

You tug two pears up over the railing, dropping one of them into his hand, the other in your lap. There’s a crunching sound as he digs his teeth into the fruit, some of the juice landing on your shoulder. It tickles, and you go to wipe it off, but Bakugo beats you to it, brushing his thumb over the exposed skin.

The realization that you’re practically in his lap makes your chest constrict. You swallow and reach down to pluck the pear from your lap, turning the fruit over in your hands as a distraction.

“So, your dad was scared of you?” he asks, resting his chin on his palm so he can get a better look at you.

You take a chance and lean yourself back into him, his shoulders thudding against the wall at the impact. Your head tilts upward so you can look at the ceiling, the feel of his collarbone behind the crown of your head somehow comforting.

“He thought I would go on a killing spree or something,” you shrug, your thumbs busy with the pear in your hands. The memories you have of your father are not pleasant, what little you have. 

Bakugo hikes his leg up so you can get more comfortable, giving you more space between his thighs. He tells himself that this is just part of the mission - he needs to get to know you so you’ll trust him, so you’ll stop running away. It'll make his job easier. That’s all this is.

You turn the fruit over, inspecting every speckle, “Just like with the flower, I can manipulate the life force inside of a person. I could kill them, if I were strong enough."

"Strong enough?" he echoes through his chewing. "What the hell does that mean?"

You laugh, cradling the pear in your palm like a child, "I was never trained on how to use my quirk. My father was so afraid of me that he forbade me to use it in front of others. I cared enough about him to respect his wishes; I wouldn't have forgiven myself if he lost business over my weird quirk."

"Your quirk isn't weird, dumbass," Bakugo's hand smooths down your hair from the back.

You laugh and look up at him, turning your body to lean against his thigh, "Thought I was a badass?"

He rolls his eyes, "You can be both."

You're tugging on his hands again, circling your fingers delicately around his wrists before yanking them forward. A strangled sound comes from the back of his throat at the sudden contact but you don't seem to notice.

Holding his palms outward, you rest your hands so the backs of yours are pressed to the insides of his hands, his much larger anatomy dwarfing your own. You're smiling but he's not sure why.

"I've wondered what it's like to be you," your voice is quiet now, the wonder giving way to sleep. "It must be amazing."

So Bakugo details all the stories he can remember. Eventually, after a few lines recounting the battles he's been in, your hands drift down from hovering in midair and he finds himself following suit. Your fingers are cold and for a moment he wonders if it's a side effect of your quirk.

He curls his fingers around yours when he isn't using his hands to tell you about a mission, the warmth from his palms leeching onto your own hands to keep you from freezing over. 

It isn't too long before he hears the change in your breathing; it's slower, heavier now. Your body is more slumped against him that it was before and he knows that you've fallen asleep.

"Quirk must take it outta ya, huh?" Bakugo brushes his thumb down the length of your forearm. He sighs and looks down at how your body just so perfectly lines up with his, "Fuckin' hell...what're you doing, man?"

The last bit of his resolve crumbles when a small sigh parts your mouth and you turn so your cheek is pressed into his pectoral, one hand coming to curl around the fabric of his shirt and the other keeping his palm captive in your tiny grasp.

Bakugo can tell how much smaller than him you are; he could easily overpower you to get out of this situation, he knows he could. But for some reason, he doesn't want to. 

For once in his life he really feels like he's doing something good, something wholesome. His body enraptures you like a cage and he keeps his eyes on the back yard, ready to act if there are any intruders. A fierce feeling prickles at the skin on the back of his neck and he wants to bare his teeth for some reason, but he tames the feral instinct before he can dig his hands into you to make sure you're safe.

Bakugo, for the first time since he met you, starts to wonder if maybe this could be more than just a mission. 

-

You’re sure you’re not supposed to overhear his conversation, but he told you to stay close. So, really, you’re just doing as you’re told. Which is a pretty big achievement for you.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding, right?” Bakugo is laughing sadistically into the phone receiver, tossing his head back. You’re sure his laughter is to combat the growl that’s sitting in his chest. He’s hushed as he speaks, “You can’t pull me from this assignment now. There’s two international events in the next month and she’s got public outings. You won’t be able to train anyone new-no, I said no. You can’t-listen...I swear to god…”

The slamming of his phone shut startles you, but you’re able to cover your mouth with your hand before your squeak tumbles out. You press your back into the wall so he can’t discover your sneaking. When his loud footsteps come closer, you try to shrink down the hall, pretending like you’d just started to wander this way.

Bakugo steps out of the room and really, did anyone ever consider just how attractive he was before they assigned him to your team? 

He’s tall, much taller than you, and built with dense muscle and thick sinew. His shoulders trim down to slimmer hips, but that is only misleading as his pelvis gives way to full thighs and rounded calves. You’re thankful they allowed him to stop wearing suits after his first couple of weeks - now he’s in a more relaxed outfit - black long sleeve t-shirt with a pair of jeans that lead into his signature black combat boots.

“Katsuki!” you call, stepping forward.

After that night, falling asleep against him in the loft, things have shifted. You’ve noticed that he’s more physical with you - whether it be with closeness, or with touch. He’s not afraid to brush up against you, and he doesn’t recoil when your body comes into contact with his own. Instead, it’s almost as if he’s welcoming it. 

It’s a gentle hand guiding you towards an exit, or his palm squeezed in yours when you’re on the wrong side of sober and trying to get out of a bar. In the car, on the way home, he doesn’t mind if you fall asleep against his shoulder. 

His brows perk when he hears your voice, crystalline eyes snapping up from his phone to make contact with your gaze. You swear the beginning of a smile touches the corners of his lips.

“Do you think we can go to the market before we get ready to go out of town?” you ask, pouting just enough to make him consider.

Bakugo puffs a breath out of his mouth, his jaw hanging open slightly. You reach forward and wrap your arms around his back, running your hands up his shoulders with a bright grin on your face, “C’mon! Live a little.”

He’s rolling his eyes but walking forward with his arm slung around your shoulder, “Whatever. Better buy me somethin’ real nice.”

“Of course!” You bob up on your toes to kiss his cheek, “Anything you like.”

His face is bright red, but you’re too busy thinking about the market to notice. As soon as you walk into the common area, his arm retreats from your form and his spine goes rigid. You know that things have to be more strict in front of your father’s staff and his coworkers. They have a short conversation before the others are grabbing their weapons and communications units, stepping out the front door to load up the SUVs. 

It’s not long before you’re walking the cobblestone paths of the market, very reminiscent of your first escape attempt. The breeze is blowing, clouds offering some shade but not much. You’re in another one of your brightly colored sundresses, hair flowing freely in the wind. You twirl in front of him, “Hey, ‘Suki, do you think you’d ever do this full time?”

He tilts his head in silent questioning, and you elaborate, “I-I mean, if my daddy could pay you enough, do you think you could be my bodyguard for a long time?”

The color in his face drains just enough for you to know that what you heard on the phone earlier was true - he’s leaving you.

“Listen,” his voice is gruff, “I’m working to be a pro-hero, alright? I don’t have time to fuckin’ babysit for the rest of my life.”

Your heart twists in your chest but you force a smile anyway, “Yeah, that’s what I figured. I know I can be a handful, and not nearly as much fun as blasting villains.”

The slight downturn in your tone makes his chest feel hollow. Bakugo knows that he shouldn’t phrase things the way he does, but he’s on communication devices with the others and he can’t have them knowing that he’s fallen complete hook, line, and sinker for you.

You’re walking down the side of the road when an idea comes to you - you know just what to do to cheer him up, for old time’s sake. It’s been a while since you’ve tried to evade him for real.

Throwing a teasing glance over your shoulder, you wink at him before slipping away from him, blending in with the others around you. You manage to grab a ball cap off of a vendor table, leaving them a large bill to take care of the cost. A quick stop at a food vendor leaves you in the wind as Bakugo walks past your body, eyes high as he steps through the crowds to try and find you.

Katsuki is frantic - it feels like someone has just pumped ice water into his veins. His feet can’t carry him fast enough. If it weren’t for the phone call earlier, he might not have allowed fear to clutch at him like a vice, but the words of the officer on the other line ring loudly in his head. 

“There have been talks in the underground of a possible kidnapping attempt. Soon.”

His saliva collects like a ball of tape in his throat and he can’t swallow it down. He speaks into his comms but he’s not sure he’s talking in full sentences or syllables. His body carries him down every alleyway, every side street, until he catches a glimpse of the tail of your dress curving down a street across the market.

Relief floods his body and Bakugo jogs to the dead end road, a sarcastic retort on his lips about how you almost got a rise out of him when his eyes catch onto something at the end of the alleyway.

There, pinned to the wall by a nail, is a swatch of your dress, covered in blood with the words don’t come looking written in crimson liquid.

Acid churns in his stomach. Heat settles behind his eyes. Explosions echo off of his hands.

“Wrong fuckin’ move,” he grits his teeth, narrowing his eyes as he snatches the cloth in his hands. He looks up to the roof where he’s sure some villain with a quirk has escaped with you, “Holy shit, wrong move.”

-

The past few hours have been nothing but a painful blur for you. There’s crusted blood on your head from where someone has slammed a blunt object to knock you out. Your wrists and ankles are burning from the cuffs wrapped around them, the chains echoing in the warehouse-like space. Your throat is parched from trying to scream through the gag in your mouth and the sobs that rack your body.

It was just supposed to be a game, something to cheer up his spirits, your running off. You never intended for it to turn into something that’s probably spiking his blood pressure and getting his ear chewed off. Another bout of tears sweeps through your lids when you realize that Katsuki is going to get in trouble due to your immaturity.

Someone has brought you a pale of water, but it’s so demeaning that all you can do is kick it across the warehouse. You’re surprised they’re allowing you to have your vision, given that they’ve taken everything else from you. 

“We’ll get a hefty ransom for her,” a thug off in the corner mutters to his counterpart. They stare over at you and you feel violated just by their gaze. You curl yourself inward, trying to hide as much of your body as possible.

The taller of the two slaps the original speaker on the back of the head, “You touch her, you’re dead. You heard what the boss said. No nasty shit.”

Your jaw quivers as you think of what they could do to you, all tied up like this. You’re helpless. The realization multiplies the well of tears settled in the brim of your eyelids. They laugh at your tears and you want to kick each of them between the legs until they beg for mercy at your hands. 

If Bakugo were here, he’d have already freed himself. He would have never gotten captured in the first place. Now you want to kick yourself. How could you be so careless? You were too wrapped up in your childish, foolish game to realize you were being tailed. Katsuki would be disappointed in you.

“The fuck you cryin’ about?” the taller thug asks. He cracks his knuckles before stepping to you, squatting down. He tucks his hand roughly under your chin to pull your attention up so you’re looking him in the eye. He smirks, “Gonna give you somethin’ to cry about, bitch.”

A set of slaps resounds in the empty room, both of your cheeks stinging at his harsh motion.

Your immediate reaction is to whimper, but you stamp it down in favor of being seen as strong. You grit your teeth together and snarl up at him, eyes hard as you glare. He chuckles, gripping you by the throat until your eyes bug out of your head, “Oh, you stupid bitch. Quit your whinin’.”

He slings you to the floor and your wound pounds in pain, reopening and leaving a gateway for a fresh stream of blood to trickle down your neck. You want to cradle the spot, do anything to try and dilute or soothe the pain, but your hands are stuck behind your back. 

The two thugs are arguing about something, but the last thing you see is the two of them looking down at you as your vision fades to black.

-

The next time you wake, your body is in a chair, apparatus attached to every part of your body. Your mind is foggy and you hear someone calling Katsuki’s name so you start to search for him. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when you realize that it’s your voice. 

“Shut up or I’ll gag you again,” a brute voice hovers over your shoulder.

There are still black spots covering most of your vision, so you can’t see who's speaking to you. Your nose itches and you try to move your shoulder only to find your neck is locked into a metal casing. You swallow, your throat bobbing against the cold metal.

A man in all black, face hidden behind an intricate, colorful mask, stands in front of you. His demeanor is nothing if not calm and collected, a gun attached to his hip although you suspect he has some sort of quirk as well. He crosses his arms over his chest as he looks you over, as if he were sizing you up even though you’ve not managed to put up any sort of a fight this entire time.

“How much do you think your daddy will pay to have you safe?” he drawls, squatting down so you can look down at him.

He swivels a knife out of his pocket, turning the blade over before pressing it to his tongue, “I’m thinking a fat stack of paper will keep you alive. Don’t you agree?”

“Go to he-ah!” You’re stopped as the tip of the knife presses to the inner part of your thigh. Your nostrils flare and you glare down at him, shifting in your seat to futilely pull away from his weapon.

“I heard your bodyguard is kind of sweet on you,” he smirks, twirling the blade so the point stays connected to your skin, “and I’m sure he wants to see you safe.”

Your teeth chatter but you bare your canines anyway, “You’re going to wish you’d never been born when Katsuki gets ahold of-”

“Katsuki, huh? You’re on given names now?” The man stands to his feet, slinging the blade around before tucking it back into his belt. He chuckles, “You pregnant with his kid, too?”

You spit on him as he bends over in front of you, face mere inches from your own. It pisses him off to the point where he snatches you by the hair, pulling you forward so your esophagus is crushed by the metal chain around your throat. You can’t breathe, choking at the sudden impact. You see stars and you can’t do anything but thrash in the chair, arms and legs bruising on contact of the latches keeping your body as still as possible.

The one thing that you can make out above everything else is the coolness of metal pressed to your temple. It is not sharp, so you have to assume that there’s a gun to your temple. His voice is in your ear, low and slithering, “I’ve already taken photos of your living body, so I don’t need proof of life anymore. I’m being a gentleman by keeping you alive, you see? So don’t piss me off.”

“That’s not bein’ a fuckin’ gentleman.”

A gasp parts your lips and the thug turns to see Bakugo Katsuki standing in the doorway, a littering of unconscious bodies in his wake.

He glares with his ruby red eyes, tilting his head in a way that almost feels patronizing. You want to claw at the hand around your throat but your wrists are still tied down. Your face is damp with a mixture of tears and sweat, your voice trying to project despite the pain of your esophagus.

“S’okay,” Katsuki looks you in the eyes and you believe him.

“You take another step closer and I swear I will blow her brains all over the side of this place,” the man seethes from behind you. As the gun digs deeper into your temple, you whimper, a sob shaking your shoulders.

Bakugo lurches forward at the sound, hand outstretched, “You fucker! Let her the fuck go before I kill you right here!”

The villain smirks, “I thought you were Ground Zero, a pro hero?! You’d dare to taint your pristine record with little ole me? Wow, I’m flattered.”

You shake your head just enough to tell him to back away, and he does so by putting both of his feet on the ground, hands in the air. He’s making eye contact with you again, irises desperate, “You remember that night in the library?”

You blink a few times, taking in what he’s said. What was so significant about that night?

“Remember what you told me?” he leads you, his jaw quivering under the stress of his teeth. “About what your father was afraid of?”

“Oh please!” The man laughs maniacally but you’re not focused on him anymore. Your brain is trying to work, albeit a bit slow, to recall the words you spoke that night. Your eyes track over his face but his mouth is set into a hard line, “The flowers, baby, remember the flowers?”

The villain is mocking Bakugo again, but his voice cuts off in his throat when he feels the tips of his extremities begin to go numb.

Your lower lip is quivering, blood seeping out of your nose at the strain. Tears sit still in your eyes as you manipulate your fingers to try to find the source of the organic material you want to manipulate. You take a gasping breath, eyes straining in your sockets as you pull pressure closer towards you.

“What the-”

Your other hand twists and you hear the crushing sound of his esophagus as you manipulate the blood pumping through his veins. Your body is so unused to the stress of using your quirk that it makes your mouth hang open in hopes of getting enough oxygen to your brain, your bones grating against one another. 

In trying to turn his hand holding the gun away from you, you have to dig deep, imagining the cells in his body so you can manipulate them. The chipping of his bones resonates in your ear, but the pressure of the gun is released from your temple. In turn, you feel a new bout of blood leak from every orifice of your face - eyes, mouth, nose.

Your vision goes black and your ears ring with the sound of an explosion. There are screams in the back of the room, but a quick thud tells you that someone has been rendered helpless.

“Hey,” the voice is calm in front of you, but you can’t turn it off. Your body craves the manipulation of something else, your quirk swirling around you like a dark shadow, begging you to hurt somebody else.

A pair of hands presses to your cheeks and your jaw drops at the contact. You turn your hands and you feel a new patch of skin ghosting under your fingers. The blood pumping through this one is hotter, faster. Your jaw strains as you grind your teeth together in concentration.

You hear Bakugo cough and your vision clears enough to realize that it’s him you have in your quirk’s grasp. Your hands fall to your lap as you relent, a cough parting his mouth as he lurches forward.

Katsuki uses his fingers to wipe the blood off of your face, “Holy hell. You really are a badass.”

You barely have time to register the words before your body passes out from exhaustion.

-

This time, when you roll your head, you’re still held in someone’s arms. You lean your head back and blink blearily, “K-Ka-Suki?”

You hear his voice, but he’s not talking to you. He’s angrily whisper-shouting at someone else you can’t see. You try to raise your arm to touch his face, slap him, whatever it takes to get his attention. Your whole body aches and you just want to go back to sleep.

“I don’t care what you have to move, just fuckin’ move it!” is the last thing that you hear before the silence returns.

You try to call to him again and this time you’re able to make out his eyes as he looks down at you. He’s carrying you somewhere, that much you know, but you’re not quite sure where you’re going. The relief that floods his irises, lightening them, makes your heart flip in your chest.

“Where’re we?” you ask in a slur.

Bakugo chuckles and you hear a door shut, “We’re back home.”

“Home,” you murmur, your head lolling into his chest. What does home mean to you now? Surely it doesn’t mean that big mansion that you’ve been a prisoner in most of your adult life.

You force your hand to inch upward from your lap to his chest, your palm seeking the heat of his body. Sniffling, you breathe in the scent of a fireside and you desperately want to be on a beach, in a hammock, as he holds you tight. Your fist curls around his shirt and he looks down at you again, taking in the pallor of your skin and the way your breath comes in short bursts.

Your body shifts in his arms and you whimper at the loss of contact as he displaces you onto a bed. Your head hits a pillow but you’re trying to sit up right after, grasping in thin air for something of his that you can hold onto.

“Lay down, idiot,” Bakugo grunts in annoyance, pushing you down by the shoulders. “You’re fuckin’ spent. You need to chill.”

Your eyes finally open as you feel your shoes removed from your feet. The way your ankles try to swivel sparks pain behind your eyelids, the raw splotches of skin from struggling against the cuffs more prevalent now than before.

“I told you to fucking chill.”

You do as he says then, your body unable to fight back any longer. You are more focused on trying to keep yourself from becoming a blubbering mess in front of him. Using your quirk took a lot of strength and focus, but now all you want to do is curl into a ball and cry yourself to sleep.

Bakugo’s palm is against your cheek, “I think you need a bath.”

“Mhm,” you can feel the crusted blood on your face and neck, sweat mixed in so your dress sticks to every part of your body it touches.

He chuckles, “I’ll go get Miles.”

“No,” you snatch him by the sleeve, “p-please, don’t go.”

You wince at the exertion of your muscles but the pleading look in your eyes must do it for him because he buckles, “I’ll go run the water.”

It’s another few minutes before he emerges from the bathroom suite to help you to your feet. You sway a little as the warmth from the steam in the room hits you directly in the face. Your eyes cross and he has to steady you with his palms on your waist.

You go to step into the tub still fully clothed when he stops you, “Uh, don’t you think-”

Your eyes can’t focus on anything, so Katsuki presses his palms to both of your cheeks and forces your eyesight to zero in on him. He says something and you reach out to grip his shirt in your hands, fisting the fabric as tight as you can manage in this state.

“D-Do you want my help?” he asks, cheeks burning. You nod, turning so the ties of your dress are where he can reach. You don’t think anything of it as his fingertips hesitate at your back, his palms threatening to burst with nitroglycerin.

Eventually, your dress falls away and you’re left bare in front of him. He takes you by the hand to guide you to the huge tub in the center of the room, full to the brim with warm water and bubbles. You wince as you step into the water, the heat from the bath making your open wounds twinge with pain. Swallowing, you submerge yourself entirely, only your nose to the top of your head remaining visible.

“Shit,” Bakugo swears as the water immediately tinges red with the blood that coated your body. He picks up a rag and gently swipes over your skin.

Bakugo has never considered himself soft. He is not gentle, he is not kind. However, all of his inhibitions about himself completely fly out the window when you’re involved. He’s sure he’s never been this caring with his own body. He winces when he has to scrub particularly hard at certain spots, the mix of blood and sweat cementing patches of red to your skin.

After he’s done with your body, he starts to work on your face. He has to use a new rag, one unsaturated with grime. His fingers are timid as he brushes under your eyes and around your nose and mouth. The pad of his thumb ghosts over your lower lip, his palm flat against your neck. 

Your eyes are wide, pupils blown as you glance up at him. He shakes his head, “I can’t believe you.”

Bakugo has to grab the shower head to work on your hair. You feel his fingers nudging through your tresses for a while before the water turns off and he unplugs the tub. The water retreats from the bath and your shoulders go cold.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, eyes on your face as he helps you stand.

He pats you dry and you fumble around your room for a new set of clothes. As he pulls the shirt over your head, his palms brush your arms and you find yourself wanting to melt into him. You have to fight the trembling of your lower lip when he takes a step back from your; your body is empty at the loss of his touch.

Katsuki grunts, shaking his head, “I-I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you’re able to manage words, your voice hoarse from disuse and exhaustion. You swallow and reach out to him, but he backs away from you.

“I had one job, one thing to do, and I fucked it up. I failed at keeping you safe.” His fists curl up tight in front of him, but you still see the explosions muffled in his grip. He turns his head, “I’m leaving tonight.”

A single tear slips down your cheek and you cradle your arms to your chest, the bright red rings of raw skin easy to see in stark contrast to your dark sleep clothes. Bakugo gets just enough of a glimpse of them and knows that he can’t be here any longer, he can’t watch his failures play on a loop in front of him in the form of you.

“I ran away,” you whisper, looking down at your hands. “I-I did this.”

You allow a sob to break the seam of your lips, your body shuddering so hard that you fall to your knees. You cover your face with your hands, “I’m so sorry, Katsuki. I-I’m so stupid. You’re right, I’m nothing but a dumbass.”

“Hey,” he cradles you at the elbows, “no, don’t do that shit.”

“It’s the truth, and you know it!” You shove at his shoulders meagerly, falling back from the force of your own push. “I should have never run away. I should have listened.”

Katsuki tugs your head forward, cradling your body against his own, “Damn right you should’ve listened to me.”

“I’m sorry, ‘Suki,” you murmur into the skin of his neck.

He tilts your head upward with the gentle tug of your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Bakugo’s mouth is pressed into a fine line as he takes a short breath, “Me too. I shouldn’t have let you get out of my sight.”

A silent pause stretches between the two of you as you look into one another’s eyes, short breath passing through your lips. Katsuki’s hand threads into your hair and his eyes travel to each feature of your face as if he were memorizing it. You turn your face to flatten your mouth against his wrist, his pulse thudding solidly under your lips. The warm aroma that results from his quirk makes you dizzy in the best way; you could get drunk off of the sweet, fiery scent if you let yourself stay this close for too long.

Your eyelashes flutter when he slides you with a hand on your hip so you’re completely in his lap, your knees on either side of his body. He is warm and it is welcoming, your still damp hair sending chills down your spine as the cool breeze of the night sweeps in through the barely open window. 

Finally, his voice breaks, “I-I thought I lost you.”

“Katsu’...” you shake your head and tears well up in your eyes. 

You can’t take it anymore. You tilt your head further upward and press your lips to his. As soon as you arch into him, Katsuki is wrapping his arms around your body, bruising your mouth with the intensity of his kiss. His palms hold you steady - one on the back of your head and the other splayed out across the center of your back.

It is painstakingly quiet, the only sounds echoing off of your walls are the gentle smacking noises your mouths make as you part only to come back together. Your hands can’t get enough of him, searching the planes of his shoulders for somewhere to dig your fingernails into. You gasp as his tongue presses to the seam of your lips, leaving you wide open for him to invade your space.

His whole body is hot, steaming, as he palms at you to keep you close. Your cheeks heat, bright red at the proximity of him. Bakugo angles your head so he can thoroughly map out your mouth with his tongue and teeth.

You pull away just enough to breathe, “I never doubted you, not for a minute.”

Katuki’s eyes are wide, irises blown to hell when he hears those words fall from your lips. His chest constricts and the threat of an explosion curls in the palms of his hands. He has to stamp it down, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, but you do feel the increasing heat on your back.

“I knew you’d find me,” you brush a hand over his cheek, pushing his hair away from his face. You have tears streaming down your face, but he’s sure you’ve never been more beautiful to him than you are now, in this very vulnerable moment.

You chuckle, “You’re my hero.”

A growl opens his lips and you barely get a moment to suck in a breath before he’s devouring you again.

He’s been labeled a hero by his school, by the media, by a costume designer. He has an agent and a PR team and a set of sidekicks he’s training. He’s getting money, fame, and yet - in this moment, you uttering those words, releases something primal in him. The need to protect you washes over him like a wave - how did he think he could ever trust anyone else with your care? Would any of them try to keep you safe as ferociously as he would? 

“I’m not leavin’ your fuckin’ side,” he mumbles as his mouth trails over your jaw, fingers tugging on your hair gently to get you to bare your throat to him. His tongue swipes over your jugular and your eyes screw shut, “No one’s taking you from me ever again.”

Your mouth hangs open, pants of needy air puffing out of your lips. You hold him by the back of his head, fingers wound in his hair, egging him on. You whimper when he bites the curve of your shoulder, but the way your hips roll forward affirms him that he’s doing something right.

“Fuck,” Bakugo mutters, picking you up with his arms around your waist, “fuckin’ hell.”

Your eyes are trained on him as he walks you to the bed. You watch his eyes dart over the space behind you so he can be sure he’s not bumping you into anything, keeping you safe even now, even as he wants to raw up your little body with his own set of bruises. Your legs stay latched around his waist, tugging him closer to you when it feels like he may pull away. 

Kastuki shakes his head, “I’m right here.”

Tears well up in the corner of your eyes from the softness of his voice alone; you don’t know what you would have done if he hadn’t been the one to find you. Your hands palm at his face, thumbing over his cheekbones to try and memorize the layout of his face like a blueprint.

“Shh,” he hushes you, leaning down to kiss either of your eyelids, “stop cryin’, dummy.”

“You were right,” you shake your head as the realization dawns over you. “You can’t stay. You have other, better things to do. Your job isn’t to babysit me, Katsuki. You need to be a hero. You ne-”

Another kiss cuts your rambling short, his mouth harsh when he tugs on your lips. His teeth nip at your lower lip, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Both of his palms slide under your shoulders, pushing you with the heels of his hands so your chest is pressed completely to him, his body aching to feel your own. He kisses you until your mouth is aching, your chest begging for breath. Your wrists and ankles start to burn, the reminder of your eventful night biting at your skin like an animal.

You wince and Bakugo pulls away, searching your face for the reason of your sudden movement.

“Oh shit,” he lowers you back to the mattress, tugging on your arms so he can unwrap your bandages to inspect your wounds.

Once he sees the injuries, his body begs to light on fire again, his rage bubbling like acid in his stomach. His lip curls into a snarl and he squeezes his eyes shut, your bloody body projected onto the backs of his eyelids.

“Will you stay with me?”

Your request interrupts his self-deprecating thoughts. He can see the glistening of tears on your face, feel the quivering of your body as your nerves get the better of you. Bakugo wants to protest, he wants to tell you that he needs to blow off some steam, but with the gentle pout and quiver of your lip, he’s completely forgotten his desire to blow a hole in every bad guy he can find tonight.

Katsuki wraps your wrists back in the bandages, taping them securely before leaning back, glancing over you as if it were the last time he would ever see you.

Before you can protest or start rambling again, he lowers himself down to curl around your body, holding your head to his chest. You cradle your arms between the two of you, looking down at your fingers.

“My father was right,” you swallow, curling your hands to fists. “I-I wanted to kill that guy. I...I almost hurt you.”

Bakugo nudges his knee against your thigh, “As if, I just didn’t want to blast your head off.”

You want to laugh, but the sound is stuck in your throat. He senses your hesitation and tilts your head back with his thumb under the sensitive patch of skin just beneath your chin, “Hey. You did what you had to do. Power is hard to control sometimes.”

He kisses your forehead, your skin smoothing under his warm mouth. You attempt to keep your lips from quivering with the threat of tears, “My quirk is scary, Katsuki.”

“Everything is scary if you let it scare you,” he mumbles, nudging his nose over your own. Your eyes flutter shut and you turn so you can kiss him again. He chuckles against your lips, “You scare me, sometimes. Or rather, the idea of you.”

You know that he’s just affirming what you’ve said - of course you’re scary. You have a quirk that allows you to manipulate a person’s body. You can snap someone’s neck with a simple twist of your wrist.

“Not like that, stupid,” Bakugo nips your jaw to keep you out of your own head. He takes a deep breath and slips his palm between yours, curling his fingers against your knuckles. “I mean, you hold me so high, when you look at me, I get scared. I can’t live up to this idea of what you think I can do. I’m not this perfect hero, I’m not this great guy.”

He licks his lips, “I want to burn everyone I’m with so they’ll stay away, but you’re different. And that scares the shit out of me.”

Your mouth parts at his declaration, words hanging on your tongue. You’re not sure how to respond. Bakugo loved seeing your quirk when it was being used on flowers and fruit, but now that it was used on a person - how did that not frighten him? How was it the way you looked at him that shook him to his core, and not the reality that you could snatch his blood vessels from his body, that you can control his muscles that sit under his skin?

“I told you, baby, you’re a badass. Okay? How could I ever get scared of someone who pushes me to be better?” Bakugo is smiling now, genuinely grinning, and that takes all of your nerves and pushes them away. You mimic his expression, squeezing his palm with gentle pressure so as to not aggravate your wounds. 

“Now, c’mon, you little shit, close your eyes and get some sleep.” Bakugo tucks your head under his chin as he toes off his boots, kicking them off the bed. His mouth is in your hair, muffled as he speaks, “Or else I’ll knock you out myself, got it?”

“Sir yes sir,” you say through a yawn.

His body tenses under your words and he seethes, “Careful with that.”

You smirk, nipping your teeth against the thin skin of his neck just over his jugular, “Yes sir.”

“Ah, fuckin’ hell.”

-

a/n: lol i am so mean i’m sorry! also.. if you would like a part two, lemme know and i’ll consider it :-) 

tag list (message me to be removed!): @kamehamethot @lady-bakuhoe @queensynderella @todorki-shoto @kacchanswaifu @redhawtriot @burnedbyshoto @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @cutesuki--bakugou @k-atsukidayo @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @voiceofreader @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast @bitchtrynafck @cutest-celestial-princess @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce​ @bokunokangae​ @shoutodoki​ 

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

September 8, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

On this day in 1974, President Gerald Ford granted “a full, free, and absolute pardon unto Richard Nixon for all offenses against the United States which he, Richard Nixon, has committed or may have committed or taken part in during the period from January 20, 1969 through August 9, 1974.” Ford said he was issuing the pardon to keep from roiling the “tranquility” the nation had begun to enjoy since Nixon stepped down. If Nixon were indicted and brought to trial, the trial would “cause prolonged and divisive debate over the propriety of exposing to further punishment and degradation a man who has already paid the unprecedented penalty of relinquishing the highest elective office of the United States.”

Ford later said that he issued the pardon with the understanding that accepting a pardon was an admission of guilt. But Nixon refused to accept responsibility for the events surrounding the break-in at the headquarters of the Democratic National Committee in Washington, D.C.’s fashionable Watergate office building. He continued to maintain that he had done nothing wrong but was hounded from office by a “liberal” media.

Rather than being chastised by Watergate and the political fallout from it, a faction of Republicans continued to support the idea that Nixon had done nothing wrong when he covered up an attack on the Democrats before the 1972 election. Those Republicans followed Nixon’s strategy of dividing Americans. Part of that polarization was an increasing conviction that Republicans were justified in undercutting Democrats, who were somehow anti-American, even if it meant breaking laws.

In the 1980s, members of the Reagan administration did just that. They were so determined to provide funds for the Nicaraguan Contras, who were fighting the leftist Sandinista government, that they ignored a law passed by a Democratic Congress against such aid. In a terribly complicated plan, administration officials, led by National Security Adviser John Poindexter and his deputy Oliver North, secretly sold arms to Iran, which was on the U.S. terror list and thus ineligible for such a purchase, to try to put pressure on Iranian-backed Lebanese terrorists who were holding U.S. hostages. The other side of the deal was that they illegally funneled the money from the sales to the Contras.

Although Poindexter, North, and North’s secretary, Fawn Hall, destroyed crucial documents, enough evidence remained to indict more than a dozen participants, including Poindexter, North, Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger, National Security Adviser Robert McFarlane, Assistant Secretary of State Elliott Abrams, and four CIA officials. But when he became president himself, Reagan’s vice president George H.W. Bush, himself a former CIA director and implicated in the scandal, pardoned those convicted or likely to be. He was advised to do so by his attorney general, William Barr (who later became attorney general for President Donald Trump).

With his attempt to use foreign policy to get himself reelected, Trump took attacks on democracy to a new level. In July 2019, he withheld congressionally appropriated money from Ukraine in order to force the country’s new president, Volodymyr Zelensky, to announce he was opening an investigation into the son of then–Democratic presidential hopeful Joe Biden. That is, Trump used the weight of the U.S. government and its enormous power in foreign affairs to try to hamstring his Democratic opponent. When the story broke, Democrats in the House of Representatives called this attack on our democracy for what it was and impeached him, but Republicans voted to acquit.

It was a straight line from 2019’s attack to that of the weeks after the 2020 election, when the former president did all he could to stop the certification of the vote for Democrat Joe Biden. By January 6, though, Trump’s disdain for the law had spread to his supporters, who had learned over a generation to believe that Democrats were not legitimate leaders. Urged by Trump and other loyalists, they refused to accept the results of the election and stormed the Capitol to install the leader they wanted.

The injection of ordinary Americans into the political mix has changed the equation. While Ford recoiled from the prospect of putting a former president on trial, prosecutors today have seen no reason not to charge the people who stormed the Capitol. More than 570 have been charged so far.

Yesterday, a 67-year-old Idaho man, Duke Edward Wilson, pleaded guilty to obstruction of an official proceeding and assaulting, resisting or impeding certain officers. He faces up to 8 years and a $250,000 fine for assaulting the law enforcement officers. And he faces up to 20 years in prison and a $250,000 fine for obstruction of an official proceeding.

This law was originally put in place in 1871 to stop members of the Ku Klux Klan from crushing state and local governments during Reconstruction.

If Wilson is facing such a punishment for his foot soldier part in obstructing an official proceeding in January, what will that mean for those higher up the ladder? Representative Eric Swalwell (D-CA) has sued Trump; Donald Trump, Jr.; Representative Mo Brooks (R-AL), who wore a bullet-proof vest to his speech at the January 6 rally; and Trump’s former lawyer Rudy Giuliani, who also spoke at the rally, for exactly that: obstructing an official proceeding.

Representative Bennie Thompson (D-MS) launched a similar lawsuit against Trump, Giuliani, the Proud Boys, and the Oath Keepers, but withdrew from it when he became chair of the House Select Committee to Investigate the January 6th Attack on the United States Capitol. Ten other Democratic House members are carrying the lawsuit forward: Representatives Karen R. Bass (CA), Stephen I. Cohen (TN), Veronica Escobar (TX), Pramila Jayapal (WA), Henry C. Johnson, Jr. (GA), Marcia C. Kaptur (OH), Barbara J. Lee (CA), Jerrold Nadler (NY), Maxine Waters (CA), and Bonnie M. Watson Coleman (NJ).

Lawyer and political observer Teri Kanefield writes on Just Security that there is “a considerable amount of publicly available information supporting an allegation that Trump and members of his inner circle intended the rallygoers to impede or delay the counting of electoral votes and certification of the election.” She points out that the rally was timed to spur attendees to go to the Capitol just as the counting of the electoral votes was scheduled to take place, and that in the midst of the attack, Giuliani left a voicemail for a senator asking him to slow down the proceedings into the next day.

At the end of the Civil War, General U.S. Grant and President Abraham Lincoln made a decision similar to Ford’s in 1974. They reasoned that being lenient with former Confederates, rather than punishing any of them for their attempt to destroy American democracy, would make them loyal to the Union and willing to embrace the new conditions of Black freedom. Instead, just as Nixon did, white southerners chose to interpret the government’s leniency as proof that they, the Confederates, had been right. Rather than dying in southern defeat, their conviction that some men were better than others, and that hierarchies should be written into American law, survived.

By the 1890s, the Confederate soldier had come to symbolize an individual standing firm against a socialist government controlled by workers and minorities; he was the eastern version of the western cowboy. Statues of Confederates began to sprout up around the country, although most of them were in the South. On what would become Monument Avenue, the white people of Richmond, Virginia, erected a statue to General Robert E. Lee in 1890, the same year the Mississippi Constitution officially suppressed the Black vote. Black leaders objected to the statue, but in vain.

Today, 131 years later, that statue came down.

Notes:

https://www.fordlibrarymuseum.gov/library/speeches/740061.asp

https://www.cfr.org/blog/orlando-massacre-and-global-terrorism

https://www.brown.edu/Research/Understanding_the_Iran_Contra_Affair/prosecutions.php

https://int.nyt.com/data/documenttools/swalwell-lawsuit-trump/6d4926e63b9a8fcd/full.pdf

https://www.justsecurity.org/75032/litigation-tracker-pending-criminal-and-civil-cases-against-donald-trump/#Thompson

https://www.justsecurity.org/78035/why-a-trump-lawsuit-to-protect-executive-privilege-could-backfire/

https://www.justice.gov/usao-dc/pr/idaho-man-pleads-guilty-assault-law-enforcement-and-obstruction-during-jan-6-capitol?s=03

Dr. Hilary Green @HilaryGreen77With Lee Monument coming down, I know that this site will be filled with apologists decrying the process. As someone who wrote about Richmond in book 1 and currently in book two, Black Richmonders rejected the Lost Cause monuments and routinely vocalized their discontent. 1/8

278 Retweets1,076 Likes

September 8th 2021

https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/virginia-politics/robert-e-lee-statue-removal/2021/09/08/1d9564ee-103d-11ec-9cb6-bf9351a25799_story.html

Sha

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON