#none of the heros believe the sidekicks

[phanphandom-idjit]

Ooooooo what if he did it to, not just his kids, but ALL kids at his side?

Not in a weird sense, but more in a Gotham knows that that man is full of heart and dumb of ass, so with the amount of kids that poor dumb rich man has, he's bound to make a few mistakes.

Granted, the parents of the child are quick to correct and reassure Bruce that they have their kid, don't worry, but thank you Mr. Wayne for being so concerned. But for the street kids? The kids who don't have parents or someone to care for them? Regardless of age, his 'child radar' goes off and he holds their hand in a gentle, but firm grasp, before walking them across the street.

He finds he slips up sometimes as batman tho. On a mission with superboy (idk you make up the reason) and they need to cross a street (granted the street is deserted and there are more important things happening bruce, like come on) and batman grabs the boys hand, only to quickly let go and keep walking (leaving a slightly confused superboy behind).

A majority of the time it's batman having a spilt second reaction when needing to cross the road (or cross anything like that) when in the presence of a teen hero or sidekick.

He doesn't know why he keeps having that same reaction with Shazam.

Headcanon that when they’re all in civvies, Bruce still takes his kids’ hands when crossing the road.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel’s an Alien?

The JL ended up going to a distant planet for diplomatic reasons. Marvel wasn’t there, neither was any of his sidekicks and or children(?). The explanation for why he couldn’t come was that Mr. Mind, a “mind controlling worm that crawls into your ear” was attacking Fawcett. None of the JL wanted to touch mind control, not even with a twenty foot pole so they just sent the Marvels on their way.

Now, the juicy thing was that everyone on this planet had the powers of Marvel. Though to a lesser degree it seems. None of these Keraunotes, which was what they called themselves, could seem to muster the same electrical output Marvel could. That’s what Batman said anyways. They actually asked one of the monarchs of the planet about why no one could use more electricity.

Monarchy: “What do you mean more?”

Aquaman: “We mean more. Like, we have this friend who can do a lot more than you guys.” *shows the monarch a vid of Marvel spamming a bunch of lightning at a villain* “Is there a reason you guys can’t use more? A limitation?”

Monarchy: *offended* “The limitation is death! If anyone used that much, they would die from the exhaustion. How is he even alive?”

That was a little concerning to the JL who were fully set on Marvel being a Keraunote. Was he constantly exhausting himself whenever he fought? Did he miss his home? Why’d he leave? Many questions were swirling in their heads. So, they decided to try and be better friends to Marvel. They decided to learn some things about this place.

Batman learned the planets language, or languages, there were multiple but he just stuck to couple and hoped for the best. He decided to test this about a week after they came back from the planet.

(foreign language is italics)

Batman: “Marvel, I need your input on something?”

Marvel: *confusion as to why Batman’s speaking another language, Solomon translates it* “Of course? What is it?”

Batman: “There’s currently a team of heroes stranded on an uninhabited planet. Do you think you’d be able to fly there and restart the power of their ship using your own electricity?”

Marvel: “I could try.” *sounds concerned* “When can I go help them?”

Batman: “Right after I ask a question. Is my pronunciation alright?”

Marvel: “Uh… Yes?”

Solomon: “Tell him to emphasize the vowels more.”

Marvel: “You might want to emphasize your vowels more though.”

Batman: “I see.” *nods head* “Well, you’re free to go save them now.”

GL and Flash decided to learn some dishes of the planet for Marvel.

Flash: *leading Marvel by the arm to the kitchen* “Trust us, man. You’re going to love it!”

Marvel: “Am I? I feel like this is a prank.”

GL: *is hovering his hands over Cap’s eyes* (that’s why Flash is pulling him along) “It’s not!”

Marvel: “I don’t think I believe you.”

Flash: “Well, regardless of what you believe. Tada!”

GL: *takes his hands off Marvel’s eyes*

Marvel: *sees a bunch of food on one of the counters* “Oh wow!” *loves food*

GL and Flash: *thinks his love of food is him loving that it’s food from his planet and are super proud*

Hawkgirl and Aquaman learned a game that was played on the planet.

Marvel, Aquaman, and Hawkgirl: *all playing a Keraunote card game on the floor with all of them bored but trying to hide it*

Marvel: *just gives up on hiding it* “Guys.” *puts a card down* “This is really boring.”

Aquaman: “Oh thank God!” *chucks his hand of cards over his shoulder* “I thought I was the only one.”

Hawkgirl: “How about we just spar in the training room?” *also throws her hand over her shoulder*

Marvel: “That sounds way better than whatever this was. I barely understood the rules.” *neatly, gracefully, simply puts his hand of cards down on the floor and stands up*

Hawkgirl: “You too? And here I thought it was just me.” *stands up*

Aquaman: “We were all confused.” *stands up*

They all went to spar and then drank juice boxes while sharing a bag of cheddar & sour cream flavored ruffles after.

Anyways, it’s safe to say the JL are all super proud of themselves.

[allmightluver]

@hhbluedynamite I’m going to make separate post here to address this. Tumblr mobile is a pain and I can’t add all picture examples I want to it here goes.

This has been a debate ever since My Hero came out,

“Why are All Mights eyes black?”

There’s been multiple explanations from how his borrowed quirk works to simply his own emaciated state. I’ve come up with my own theory. It’s said the eyes are the windows to the soul. I believe All Might’s eyes grow darker the more “weight” he carries.

For example,

When All Might was a kid, his eyes were normal. White. After losing his family, rendering him an orphan, white. Even after losing Nana, still he looked normal.

And after first releasing to the public.

This is because although he’d already been thru hell and back emotionally, he’s still normal. Even with his quirk.

Then, after he’d been in the game a while, they suddenly darkened.

Why?

Because by that time, the full gravity of his position, his responsibility and the realization he was essentially alone in that place, had fully sunk in.

Because he was so over powered above everyone else, everyone including the heroes left him to take care of almost everything they felt was too hard. And because he’s a selfless person at heart without a care to his own safety, he willingly allowed it to happen without asking for help. He didn’t want to risk losing anyone else. Which is also why he didn’t take on any sidekicks.

Until Nighteye.

Vigilantes showed us Toshinori when he wasn’t being All Might. And his eyes turn back into white in his more relaxed form, albeit with tired lines beneath them. However this is when he had Nighteye to count on. And Nighteye can see the future, so perhaps he would be safe, right? Well we know what happened there.

After he and Nighteye break up go their separate ways, we never see Toshinori with white eyes again. (Unless I’m forgetting so please tell me if I am). Now he’s injured, only a handful of people to trust, and none can truly understand what he’s going through. At this time he truly is alone, and the one thing that gives him joy is slowly but surely being fizzled out within him.

All Might’s eyes continued to remain black for years. Even after giving his quirk to Izuku. He still felt the weight of the world on his shoulders because he feared for Izuku’s safety. Blamed himself for every scar and Injury the boy suffered thru. Even though he was retired, nothing had changed. In fact it was worse now, because he could do nothing to help anymore.

And then he gains support items to face AFO for the last time. He’s a distraction, a willing sacrifice to slow the monster down, and he couldn’t be happier. We see the whites of his for the first time. All through the fight we see them, shaded albeit, but they’re there.

When he speaks to Nighteye asking if this isn’t the place he was meant to die, Nighteye confirms that it is. The fact that he’s still alive makes him raise the question, why is he still here then? I’m the mentor, Izuku is a ready and worthy apprentice. He doesn’t need me anymore. I’m supposed to be dead by now. His eyes seem darker here, as if the weight and his own depression have increased again. Perhaps begrudgingly accepting his fate.

But then here after Nighteye tells him he reads too many comic books, and that there’s no way he would go out that way, we get a closer look. Although his eyes are still shrouded in black because of his emaciated state. His eyes themselves are clearer, brighter. Even if Nighteye is only in his head, his words are still bringing him hope deep down.

While being tended to medically, his eyes are dark again, though I believe this is mainly due to him barely being alive and conscious at this point. And they’re still white, more than we’re used to seeing.

Finally after the war while they’re recovering, his eyes remain white, though they’re still shaded. The weight is still present. His work isn’t done yet. Izuku is losing his quirk, and he still feels like a failure in some sense because of that. Also because he and Bakugo almost died. And because of everyone who did die in the war all because he failed to stop AFO after three tries.

People who weren’t qualified to be heroes were even involved in this battle. And he thinks it unfair to hold such high standards when there are people who can still help, even if not at the extreme levels of the top heroes. He and Deku are proof of that!

In the last chapter several years later, we finally see Old Man Might! And his eyes-they’re so bright. ❤️

Of course they’ll always have a little shadow to them because of his sunken in appearance, but the tired lines under his eyes are gone. There’s not the black bags from pushing himself too hard, just the normal wrinkles that come with age.

This is Toshinori that’s been missing for decades. The man whose impossible weight has finally been lifted off his shoulders. He knows he can finally relax, he doesn’t have to be on alert or on call anymore. The world is safe without him.

He even found a way for Izuku to keep up his hero work with a suit similar to his own during the war (though most definitely suped up).

Finally, he can be at peace. His body, soul, and mind can finally begin to heal. He can work through all of the trauma he’s been stuffing down all of his life.

Finally, he can live.

[penny00dreadful]

Rating: G tags: post-breakup, angst, hurt, wedding, happy ending prompt: Love is what makes you brave (@sidekick-hero) For @steddielovemonth AO3

Should he be here?

No.

Was he going to continue to be here for as long as he could take it?

Hell yeah.

Sitting behind the wheel of his stupid expensive car that would have stuck out anywhere else. 

But not here.

Not amongst the BMW’s and Bentleys and limos and wedding cars.

It had been three years.

Three long and fucking lonely as shit years since he’d last seen Steve.

Three years of writing songs about him.

Three years of dodging interviewer questions about who the songs were about.

Three years of the fans creating some nebulous phantom person that all the songs must be about because they all fit together like puzzle pieces if looked at correctly.

Three years since Steve broke his heart.

Eddie wasn’t even really sure what had possessed him to be here right now.

He hadn’t been invited.

But some kind of insane impulse had grabbed him when he’d first gotten into the car fourteen hours ago and it hadn’t left him since.

He needed…

He didn’t know what he needed.

He didn’t know what he expected.

His passenger door opening and a figure sliding into the seat nearly scared the life out of him, so lost in thought and with eyes laser focused on the church doors, he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching.

He was forced to remember again that he was no longer some nobody living in bumfuck nowhere Indiana, he was a somebody, with a fucking penthouse apartment in New York City and an extremely recogniseable look.

Maybe he should have locked the doors.

And maybe he should have dressed down a little before he jumped in the car. Gotten rid of some of the jewellery, covered up the tattoos, tied his hair back, not worn the kind of clothes that always got him noticed in Hawkins in the wrong way. He was more noticeable now more than he ever had been. 

He was the most successful person to ever make it out of this shithole town and the town itself loved to pretend they always encouraged him. 

They advertised it proudly.

Like they hadn’t tried to drown his passions at every opportunity.

But it wasn’t some crazed obsessive fan now staring at him from his passenger seat, dressed in a pair of black slacks and an overly frilly lavender blouse, probably a compromise so she didn’t have to be stuffed into a dress.

Eddie tensed his hands around the wheel while Robin continued to stare at him like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, bewildered more than anything. He supposed that was fair.

There was no reason for him to be here after all.

He’d gotten no hint from Steve that this wasn’t what he wanted, none of the kids had said as much either but…

It just didn’t feel right.

It felt like Steve was falling back into a pattern.

Living the life that had been mapped out for him by society.

Go to school.

Get a good job.

Get married to a nice girl.

Eddie didn’t even know if the person that would be meeting Steve at the end of the aisle in about fifteen minutes was a nice girl.

He didn’t know anything about her at all.

Didn’t know anything about Steve either.

All he knew were the little tidbits the kids would occasionally drop by accident when they would forget they weren’t all one tightly knit group anymore.

Not since Steve shoved him out the door and told him that it wouldn’t work, it could never work.

Eddie suspected Steve had been looking at shadows on a cave wall for so long he had no idea there was a whole world just outside. That they didn’t have to live their lives the way everyone else did.

But there was nothing for it, he couldn’t force Steve to take him back. 

He’d told Eddie he didn’t want him anymore so…

Eddie went and got the life he’d dreamed of since he was a kid. He got the success and the accolades and he was being heard.

But it was empty. It had always been empty.

He had never been able to move on.

Not really.

And now… now he was here.

“Hey Buckley.” Eddie shot her a tight grin. “It’s been a while.”

And it had been. Because along with losing Steve, he’d also lost Robin.

It was understandable, really. 

Robin was Steve’s ride or die and though he’d heard she’d raised holy hell, trying to figure out why Steve had thrown his happiness away, as she herself had said, she was still, first and foremost, Steve’s soulmate.

She would be by his side come hell or high water and though she wasn’t happy with his decision, there was also nothing she could do about it.

Steve was a grown man and he’d made his choice.

“What are you doing here, Eds?” She asked again with so much concern, it was like she was worried Eddie was ripping out his own heart over again just by being here.

Maybe he was.

But he was here now.

He couldn’t leave until it was all over.

“Is he happy?” Eddie asked, rather than answer her question. They both knew why he was there anyway. “Is he happy with Miss… Whatever Her Name Is?”

Robin looked at him for a long time, eyes darting all over his face, chewing on her lip.

She took a big breath in. 

“He’s… content, I think. They both are. I think they’ve both… made themselves content with the situation.”

“Right.” Eddie nodded, tearing his gaze away and staring down at his hands.

He could feel Robin’s eyes boring into the side of his head.

“But not happy.” She said into the silence. “He’s not- I’ve never seen him as happy as he was when he was with you.”

Eddie tightened his jaw, tried to blink away the wetness in his eyes.

“Then why did he end it?”

“I think he was scared.” She almost whispered. “I think he didn’t know what to do with it all. There was no rule book to follow.”

“But that’s the best part, Rob.” Eddie sighed out. “There’s no rules for how we’re supposed to live our lives.”

He didn’t turn back to look at her, but he could see her nodding in agreement out of the corner of his eye.

“I think he’s started to realise that too, recently.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you here?” She asked again, no longer willing to put up with his avoidance.

“I don’t know.” He said, mostly honestly. “One last big romantic gesture?”

Robin sighed, a hand on the handle. “Okay, wait here.”

“Hadn’t planned on going anywhere.” He muttered but it was drowned out as she slammed the car door, speed walking her way back to the church where a crowd had begun to gather at the door.

He tried not to let anything like hope bloom in him, he tried to keep any kind of bubble build up and puff him out but it wasn’t that difficult.

Especially when Robin made her way back to the car only a few minutes later, looking far more stressed than she had before and notably, alone.

“So, slight bump in the big romantic gesture plans,” she said, opening the door again but not getting in. “They’re missing.”

“They? Who’s missing?”

“Rita apparently got a call at the hotel before she was supposed to come here and then just disappeared, leaving her engagement ring behind. And then Steve left sometime when we were talking-”

“Left to go where?”

“I don’t know, Edward.” Robin grit out, tensing her fingers around the roof lip but it was more worry than irritation.

“Okay.” Eddie said, shifting the car into gear. “Okay, get in, we’ll go-”

“No. I’m staying here, I need to keep his parents from calling in the National Guard to drag him back by the hair. You go. You know where he is, don’t you?”

Eddie stared at her, opening and closing his mouth until he could finally form his lips around the words “I think so.”

He knew so.

Or at least he hoped he did.

Robin gave him one sharp nod. “Okay.”

She slammed the door closed and turned back to the crowd.

Pulling out of the parking lot of the church, Eddie tried not to panic. 

There wasn’t much distance that Steve could have gone but the idea of him going missing still had his heart constricting, full of what if, what if, what if?

It wasn’t very far, but finding somewhere to pull over at the edge of the forest where his car wouldn’t be suspicious wasn’t the easiest thing to do.

Though it was probably easier now than it had been years ago, since he no longer had the van and his shiny, sleek and expensive car would be glanced over for any bored cop looking to bust someone for drugs.

Not so much of an easy target now, huh Callahan?

He had just pulled his car into a clearing that was somewhat hidden when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket.

He switched the engine off and was halfway out of the car when he froze, finally seeing the number on screen.

It was Steve. It had to be Steve.

He’d recognise that number anywhere, he knew it off by heart but Eddie had changed numbers at least twice in the last three years.

He hadn’t bothered to add Steve back into his contacts, what would be the point?

It would have just been a temptation on drunken lonely nights.

How the fuck did Steve even have his number?

Eddie tapped the answer button before the call could ring out.

His mouth was dry and his heart was in his throat as he raised the phone to his ear.

“Stevie?” He practically breathed, gripping the door so tight he was surprised he didn't dent the metal.

There was a sound from the other end, like a sigh, like relief or a release of tension.

“Eddie.” Steve said and his voice, different as it was through the phone, was the most painful and comforting thing Eddie thought he’d ever heard. It was followed quickly by a sniffle and a quiet, “Hi.”

Eddie had so many things he wanted to ask.

Why are you calling now?

Where are you?

Why did you run?

How do you even have this number?

Instead he just slammed the car door closed and asked softly “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

A sound came down the line, one that sounded suspiciously like a sob, followed by another sniffle.

“Can’t- can’t I just call to see how you are?”

Eddie didn’t answer as he started to tromp his way through the forest, half worried anything he said would just end up with him begging Steve to call him again and again and again.

But Steve seemed to take his silence as stony.

“Yeah, I-” Steve sniffed. “I guess I deserved that.” 

Eddie could practically hear his lip wobbling through the phone and Steve broke down into sobs again.

“Where are you, Stevie?”

“The past.” He muttered out which was as good a confirmation as any that Eddie was heading in the right direction. “I’m- I… I’m sorry to call you right now and you’re out living your life-”

“Are you sober?”

Because it was high stakes at the moment but this was still a lot of emotion for noon.

“Unfortunately.” Steve sighed out and then quietly, so quietly Eddie could barely hear him. “I’m supposed to be getting married today.”

“So I heard.”

It sounded like the air had been punched out of Steve’s chest and the whine he let out after sounded like one of pure pain.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie had to duck under a branch and as a result, nearly tripped over a root in the ground but managed to right himself.

“You’re sorry for supposed to be getting married?”

“I’m sorry you had to find out that way. From- from someone else.”

He came to a stop. 

“Oh.”

Not sorry I’m getting married.

Just sorry I’m not the one who told you I’m getting married.

Which, like, Steve didn’t need to apologise to him for getting married.

They weren’t together.

They weren’t a thing.

They didn’t even talk anymore.

Eddie had no right to that information.

Still.

Didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Eddie.” Steve whimpered out, kicking Eddie back into movement again. “I fucked up. I fucked up so bad.”

“You didn’t fuck up, Stevie, it’s fine.” He sighed, resigned to his fate now. “You can still go back-”

“No, no.” Steve took a large painful breath in. “You don’t understand. I fucked up. I left you. I made you go. How could I do that? Why did I do that? You were- you were the best thing that ever happened to me and I just-”

It sounded like Steve couldn’t speak anymore through hit tears, the raw anguish in his voice making it sound like he couldn’t breathe.

“I pushed you away. I pushed you away. I was so scared and I wanted- I wanted to take it back the second I did it. I wanted to but I couldn’t make myself do it and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry about that, baby. You have to believe me, I’m so sorry.”

The sound of Steve’s sobs were no longer just coming through the phone but were now starting to echo around him from just up ahead and Eddie kept walking.

“I was such a coward. There was no precedent. Nothing in my life was like what I had with you, I didn’t see it anywhere else and I didn’t know what to do. There was just this big vast emptiness in front of me where before there had always been a path, it had always been mapped out, telling me where to go next and I didn’t know what to do about it, I didn’t think it was possible to have-”

Steve cut himself off with another sob and Eddie could see him now, sitting on the dirty forest floor in his brand new designer tux, head bowed into his knees and his back against Skull Rock.

“I’ve made such a mistake, Eddie. I’ve never fucked up like I did with you and if I could take it all back I would. I’d be brave for you, I swear-”

Eddie dropped to his knees in front of him.

“Do you still want to be?”

Steve’s head snapped up so fast he cracked himself hard against the giant rock they used to come to all the time when they were full of young love.

Eddie winced in sympathy but didn’t reach out while Steve stared at him wide eyed, even through the pain.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Eddie.” He breathed out, completely disbelieving. “What- wh- what are you-”

“I was at the church.” Eddie said, sitting himself down fully and bringing his own knees up to his chest. “I was… I don’t know what I was doing there. I don’t know what I expected to happen.”

“You…” Steve blinked at him. His face was wet and blotchy and red, his eyes were raw and still swimming and he was still the most beautiful person Eddie had ever laid eyes on. And he was looking at Eddie like he was the most unbelievable thing in the world. “You were there the whole time?”

“Yeah.”

Steve’s hands were twitching around his knees, gripping into the fabric of his dress pants and Eddie could tell he wanted to reach out but he wasn’t sure he could handle that yet.

He needed to know.

He needed to be sure.

He didn’t think he’d survive it if he let hope back in only to have it pulled away again.

“What happened?”

Steve’s face scrunched up, like he was trying to push the tears back and he brought his hands up to his face, digging the heels into his eyes.

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t go through with it. Rita, she… she- she’s not you. I couldn’t let her live a life with me waiting for me to love her like I still love you because it’ll never happen. I could never love anyone like I still love you. And she… she’s the same, she didn’t want this, she never wanted this but it was what we’d been told to want for so long and… she couldn’t do it either. So we both- we both ran and I want… I want to be brave for you, baby.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his knees and pressed his lips into his skin, silent and thinking.

He couldn’t take it if Steve did what he did to him again.

He just couldn’t.

And why did it take Steve getting to this stage for him to decide on what he wanted?

Would it have still happened the same way if Eddie hadn’t come?

Would Steve have cried his heart out here in their spot until he was done talking to Eddie over the phone and gone about the rest of his life?

Would he have let the fear get to him again?

But could Eddie live with himself if he turned this chance down because of his own fear?

It wasn’t even a question.

He’d regret it for the rest of his life.

So he had to choose to be brave too.

He unwrapped his arms from around his knees and spread his legs wider, scooching forward until he had Steve’s curled up body cradled in his.

Steve all but stopped breathing with a dramatic hiccup when he felt Eddie’s legs against his own and when Eddie brought his hands up to encircle Steve’s wrists and pull them away from his face, his eyes were wide and disbelieving.

Eddie pulled Steve’s hands into his chest.

“I need to know you’re sure. I need to know you mean it, okay?”

“I do.” Steve nodded and his words were sure if a little breathy. “I do, Eddie. I promise you. I’ll show you every day. I’ll be brave for you I swear.”

“Because I won’t survive you doing what you did to me again. It nearly killed me the first time, Steve. I can’t go through that again. So you need to be sure.”

Where Steve’s hands were pressed flat against Eddie’s chest, his fingers curled in now, balling up the shirt underneath and holding on tight.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Eddie, I swear to you on… on… Dustin’s mom.”

Despite himself, Eddie felt his face crack into a smile.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Steve asked, though his own smile was slowly blooming, even as he started crying again.

“Yeah. Okay. Now kiss me like you mean it.”

AO3

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

[phoneduk]

I love Reverse Robins Au but I feel like a lot of people interpret it as reverse roles Au rather than how I interpret it Reverse Age au.

Here's how I see it:

Damian:

Is dropped off with Bruce at age 8 - violent assassin child who meets tired goth Bruce who's not quite used to being batman yet and is nowhere near equipped enough to raise a child but he's damned if he's not gonna try his hardest.

It's a bit of a mission at first trying to curb the violent tendencies and raise a whole antisocial person (and wow, he admires Alfred so much more now). He almost quits Batman for a bit until he figures out that making Damian his sidekick might be a good outlet for him.

Duke

Bruce is out on patrol with Damian when he finds a little boy who's parents are out of commission and is too stubborn to believe that the Bat would actually help him.

Damian hates that he's not an only child anymore but eventually warms up to the idea when he realises they can team up against Bruce and that they are not in competition.

When Bruce finds out that Duke is a meta he wants to flinch back and send him away, but he doesn't, partially because he loves Duke so much the idea of losing him so quickly repulsed him and partially because Damian pulled a sword on him at the idea.

Tim:

Roughly 9 years after Damian is taken in Bruce, Damian and Duke are approached by a small boy saying he knows who they are and wants to join them. Bruce refuses but Damian spots the opportunity to have someone else be Batman's sidekick whilst he can become a hero in his own right.

Damian starts following Tim around and looking out for him and then he realises that Tim is being neglected and come on he can't just leave Tim there so he brings him home and Bruce can't really argue against that.

Two months later Batman has a new sidekick and Gotham has a new lone hero.

Cass

They only notice her because she wants them to and absolutely no one questions it when she's bought home. All three boys had wanted a sister at some point and none of them cared about her past or her speech.

Jason:

Tim's a teenager now has almost finished highschool when Bruce goes out one night with the batmobile and comes back to where he parked it find a kid stealing the tires. Bruce can sense that Tim is going to inevitably leave him as well so what better time to take in a new kid when he also will need a sidekick soon.

The decision hurts Tim more than anything else because he's being replaced and he's not ready to be on his own even though he's never been more ready.

Jason grows quicker than either of his other two boys and he's more determined than either of them to right the wrongs of Gotham. That determination was what led him to Ethiopia where his the joker killed him.

Dick

Bruce was at the circus at Alfred's suggestion, something to distract him from the empty seat at the table where his youngest should be. It's at the circus where he sees the trapeze line fail and he can't stop himself from reaching out to the falling artists. It hurts him to take in another child so soon after losing Jason but the thought of that tiny boy who saw his parents die going into Juvie almost kills him.

Dick brings joy into the manor that hadn't been known since Bruce was a boy and everyone in the family falls in love with him.

When the Red hood emerges, angry at his older siblings for not protecting him and wanting to kill Dick they're all a worrying amount of relieved and angry. Surprisingly it's Dick that manages to get him to come back to the family.

[wreckingtickles]

1 Hour in Tickle Hell!

Sir Nighteye doesn't appreciate Izuku endangering himself, and Mirio takes it upon himself to punish him as customary for their agency...

Characters: Lee Izuku, ler Mirio

Words: 7,757

Big thanks to @sleepysheepytea for letting me use her wonderful leezuku piece as a preview image! If you're reading this, you probably have already, but if not, go give her a like!

Intense tickles under the cut!

“Reckless endangerment! You act like your life is of no consequence! But if you die, who is going to save everyone?”

That was the fifth rhetorical question Sir Nighteye asked of a bashful Midoriya as he paced up and down his office, dressing down the stiff teenager.

“Self harm! You risk permanent damage every time you push your Quirk too far, and if your disregard for your own health wasn’t a serious enough matter, what if you incapacitate yourself on the field? What if you had forced Mirio to choose between saving a civilian and you?!”

Neither was looking at the other, Nighteye yelling at the walls as if he couldn’t even bear to look at his intern at that moment, while his words weighed down Midoriya’s gaze and glued it to the floor. Deku understood everything the hero was saying, he realized he was right, but somehow he also knew that he’d make the same choices every single time.

Nighteye’s furious steps halted as he lowered his voice, “And worst of all…” he began before dramatically turning to point an accusatory finger at Izuku, “Your smile wavered! Who is going to believe that there is any hope if they feel like their rescuer is lying to them?!”

Once again, the intern said nothing. All Might’s former sidekick was going to kick him out of the agency, and even as he dreaded that verdict, part of him seemed to think he’d done nothing wrong. Was he really that arrogant?

“For all these infractions, I sentence you…”

Deku closed his eyes as if in preparation for a hard blow to the head.

“...to one hour in Tickle Hell.”

Wait, what? Izuku dared to look up. Nighteye’s impenetrable expression gave nothing away except his usual earnestness. Was that really it?

Mirio, still in his hero costume, piped up next to Izuku. “Sir, the machine broke.”

“Again?!”

“Tiffany’s coming on Monday.”

“Then you’ll carry out his punishment,” commanded Nighteye as he took his seat behind his desk. He’d already checked out of the conversation. “Any problems with that?”

“None, Sir, but since it’s his first time, might we do it after closing time?”

“Very well. Make sure you close up after you’re done.”

—

“Yeah, I lied about the machine,” revealed Mirio with a chuckle. “I just thought it’d be weird for you, especially since it’s your first time.”

“Oh. Thank you,” replied Izuku tentatively, not quite sure what to make out of the surreal deal. If nothing else, he was grateful he wasn’t being tickled in front of everyone else, though Mirio calling it his “first time” didn’t bode too well for his future.

“So, let’s take a seat!” urged Mirio cheerfully, wheeling out two office chairs so they faced each other and motioning for Izuku to choose one.

Blushing to his ears, Izuku took a seat. Mirio plopped down in the other, the mechanism groaning a little under his weight. He was being goofy to put him at ease, Izuku knew, and he wished he could be grateful for it, but the whole situation was too awkward. 

Mirio was sitting there in front of him with his comforting smile, as if it was a perfectly normal thing. And it probably was, in Sir’s agency. It’s not like his classmates didn’t tickle him all the time either. Literally: all the time. Apparently, he was just too adorable when he laughed. And while it could be very annoying, he didn’t mind too much, since he could tell it was done with affection and not to humiliate him. But he hadn’t known Mirio that long…

“Hey, you still there?” Mirio’s question snapped him out of his reverie. “You were muttering to yourself.”

“Sorry, it’s just… I feel bad that you lied to Sir Nighteye for me.”

“He probably knows and knows why I did it. And besides, I don’t really mind the machine. It’s a good time,” explained Mirio with his usual jolly tone. “So, you ok with me tickling you?”

Izuku blushed a deeper shade of red and nodded. What else could he say?

“Good! Do you want to set the timer, or should I?”

He was making him feel like an active participant. He had to be an incredible hero in a crisis. But Izuku was too nervous and couldn’t remember where he’d left his phone. “You, uh, you can do it.”

“Great! I’ll set it to 10 minutes, then you get a 2-minute break. That’s how the machine operates. So if you factor in the breaks, you’re only being tickled for 50 minutes! ” explained Mirio as he set the timer on his phone and placed it on the desk next to Midoriya, so he could check it at will. “One last thing! I need you to take off your shoes and socks. Oh, and to make it count, I need to tickle you under your T-shirt, or you can take it off if you prefer. Is that ok with you?”

“D-Do you really have to?”

“Yep!” said Mirio, clapping his hands on his thighs. “I agree with Sir, you need to learn that your well-being matters, so don’t expect me to play nice!”

Maybe the machine wouldn’t have been so bad after all. But then he remembered that each time he’d seen the machine in action, it always started with those fuzzy appendages that targeted the poor hero’s sides and hips, and Izuku shivered at the memory. One hour of the spot his classmates had told him was his worst for a whole hour?! No way.

“O-ok,” stammered Izuku as he began to remove his bright red shoes, carefully tucking them aside. He also slipped off his black socks - thankfully the agency had showers and he’d been able to wash up - balled them up, and put one inside each shoe.

“You’re very tidy, good for you!” praised Mirio, but Izuku was too tongue-tied to utter anything other than a bashful “Thanks.”

Izuku sat back down, forcing himself to keep his bare soles planted on the ground and to keep his back straight, his hands balled into nervous fists on his thighs. He wanted nothing more than to hide his face behind his knees and die of embarrassment.

Mirio was looking at him with that smile of his. There was no telling what he was thinking. “Oh, can you start the timer?” he asked suddenly.

“Y-Yes,” answered Izuku, anything to keep his mind off of what was about to happen. He reached his hand toward the desk, tapped the screen… and suddenly found himself in a world of hysterics as Mirio’s hands snuck up to his sides.

“WAHAHAHAHAHIHIHIT!!! IIHIHIHHI WAAHAHAHAHASN’T REEEHEHEHEHEHADDY!!!!”

“Not good, Midoriya! Expect the unexpected!” advised Mirio while his strong hands went on squeezing the green bean’s sensitive flanks. 

Izuku tried batting them away, grabbing his wrists, using any self-defense technique he’d learned, but Mirio was much stronger than him and even a mere few seconds of tickling had messed up his coordination. Betrayed by his own sensitive body, again!

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA!!!”

It didn’t even matter that the senpai was tickling him through his T-shirt, all Midoriya seemed to be able to do was sink deeper into the chair and laugh as Mirio loomed over him.

“Oh wow, you’ve got it bad!” remarked Mirio with a chuckle. “Are you ticklish anywhere else?” he asked as he moved up to the trainee’s ribs. This time, the fabric of Izuku’s statement shirt lessened the effect of the probing fingers that vibrated and raked at his ribcage with single-minded dedication. 

“AAAHAHahahahahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEEEHHHEHEHahaahasssseeheheheh!!! StoohoHOHOHOHOP!”

“No can do, Midoriya! This is your punishment! Take your tickles with pride!”

Izuku couldn’t tell to what extent Mirio was teasing him and to what extent he was being his goofy self, but he found himself trying to hide his beet red face from his upperclassman, and failing miserably as the the thumbs suddenly pressing into the bottom of his ribcage forced him to squeal and to try to push the offenders away from him.

“NAAAAhahaahahahahahaha!!! IhihihihIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHIcklehehehehehehehssss!!”

Mirio couldn’t believe how adorable the first year looked when he laughed freely, his face scrunched up and his beautiful smile on full display as the boyish laughter rang in the empty office, an informal welcome.

Mirio hadn’t expected it would be that much fun. He could tell that Izuku, after the shock of the first few moments, was torn between trying to escape the tickles and forcing himself to sit still and embrace his weird punishment, and the clash between his will and his sensitivity made his struggle all the more endearing.

But when the probing fingers entered Izuku’s underarms, Izuku was suddenly of a single mind about his predicament.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! TOOOHOHOHOGAHAHAHATA!!! IIII CAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNNN’TT!!!”

He had fully sunk in the back of the chair, his legs kicking wildly at either side of the goofy tickle monster as the latter leaned forward to negate Izuku’s attempt to merge with the cushion, his tongue stuck out in concentration as he was determined to mine that weak spot for all it was worth. 

Naturally, the greenette’s natural reaction was to clamp down his arms, succeeding at limiting the range of motion of those pesky fingers… too bad they were exactly where Mirio wanted and Izuku didn’t want them.

“TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHIHHIIHHIIHMMEEE!!! TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHHIHHIHIMME!!!” squealed izuku through the gales of laughter.

Mirio raised his head - he didn’t even need to relent to glance at the stopwatch - and gave him an apologetic smile. “Take my word for it, you don’t want to know,” he promised as his index fingers made a push deeper into the all too sensitive hollows.

“YAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

Mirio simply couldn’t believe how adorable the greenette sounded and looked when he was flailing in the throes of ticklish agony, his entire body tensing up from under Mirio, his eyes widening with shock for a moment, as the fingers inched upward and inward, teasing the very sensitive skin at the center of Midoriya’s underarms.

“OOOOOHOHOHOHO NOOOOHOHOHOOHHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Izuku didn’t know what to do. They’d probably just started, but Mirio was going at it with an enthusiasm he hadn’t anticipated, he really seemed hell-bent on making that punishment feel like… a punishment.

But even through his T-shirt, it tickles so much that Izuku gave up hope of controlling his reactions, and he reflexively started pushing Mirio away in any way he could - and with his arms being out of commission as they were locked in their ineffective barricade, that meant trying to create enough space by wedging a knee against Mirio’s chest, then pushing with his other foot.

That maneuver had been created with grappling in mind; but in that specific scenario, it would lead to more harm and good, because when Mirio felt the foot push against his chest, he didn’t try to oppose it: he grabbed it. “Rookie mistake, young Midoriya.”

Izuku was almost relieved that first one hand, then the second left his poor pits alone. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late, because four fingers were already scribbling up and down his bare sole.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahahahahahahaha!!! Nohohohoahaht thehehehehehehehehehehhere!!!”

It was only one foot, but there was no protective layer of fabric between the tickling fingers and the tickled sole, and Izuku really did not want to make the same mistake twice, so he tried to keep his other foot firmly planted on the ground, or at least out of Mirio’s reach, but no matter how hard he kicked, Mirio’s grip was a steel vise, and he only succeeded at rolling his chair farther and closer to his tickler.

For his part, Mirio was plenty happy to take his time with the one sole he got, a little squat and small in his hand, but arguably a little big on someone Izuku’s height, while he waited for the second to inevitably fall into his lap. He abandoned his scattershot approach in favor of a more analytical one, scratching briefly at the heel…

“Hahahahahahaha!!! Hehehehehehehehehehe!”

Then the scribbling fingers traveled up the arch, lingering on the instep when Mirio noticed that Izuku’s giggling grew more squeaky…

“Hahahahaahha!! NEHEHEHEHEhehehehehehehehhahahahaaha!!!”

He dragged his fingernails up and down the arch, and whenever Izuku would attempt to lessen the sensation by scrunching up his sole, Mirio would briefly focus on his arch right above his heel, constantly switching between those spots… It wasn’t just classmates who were oddly skilled at tickling!

“Ohohohohahahahahahahaha!! HAHAahahahahahahahahahaha!!”

Finally, the dull fingernails reached Izuku’s bubble-like toes, eliciting bubbly giggles and squeaks from the greenette, who gripped the armrests for dear life as Mirio seemed to have no intention of letting go and repeatedly stomped the ground with his other foot.

“NeheheehehHEHEHEHEHEEHHEEHE!!! Hahahahahahahahaahahahahahahaha!!!”

“Your toes are so small and cute,” teased Mirio, proceeding to run his thumb on the underside of his toes before grabbing them one by one as if playing ‘this little piggy’. He’d noticed how Izuku wasn’t even trying to negotiate or plead, but had accepted his predicament even as his body fought against it. Either he didn’t hate it, or he was used to it.

Izuku went on squirming in his seat, floundering as his priorities were split between maintaining his balance and hiding his face. Mirio took that chance to lift his ankle higher, throwing him slightly off balance and forcing his other leg to kick out, and Mirio was ready, rapidly scooping both ankles in a headlock and spidering his fingers all over both soles.

“NOOOOhohohohhoho!!! SeheheehEHEHEHHEHEhenpaaaahahahahaihihi!!!! HahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAahahahahahahhaha!!!”

“You sound so happy!” remarked Mirio, as if Izuku needed additional teasing. “Is this your most ticklish spot?” 

Izuku didn’t know if his armpits or his feet were worse despite the wealth of experience his classmates had regaled him with, they were bad in different ways, but he knew there was one spot that was even worse. He wasn’t going to say it, but he wasn’t going to lie either, and the compromise seemed to be to laugh his head off.

“I’m not hearing a no,” said Mirio as his frenzied scratching got faster, focusing on the arches and Izuku’s toes.

Izuku threw his head back as the ticklish sensation coursed up his body… and felt himself fall before his shoulders hit the ground.

Mirio stopped tickling him immediately. “Are you hurt?”

Izuku took a few deep breaths, shielding his face once more as he shook his head no.

“Good!” trilled Mirio before sending him into a new fit of laughter as he resumed tickling the squat soles. “Just kidding,” he said after a few moments, letting go of Izuku’s ankles and offering him a hand, which Izuku took. In a moment, he was back on his feet, welcoming the cold floor under his pink soles.

Izuku took that chance to glance at the timer. Six minutes. It hadn’t even been six minutes yet. Izuku went pale, meaning that his scarlet complexion dimmed to a dark pink. But he didn’t have a lot of time to mull over that piece of info, because he was suddenly pulled into Mirio’s lap, the upperclassman’s thick forearm a steel bar that pinned his chest.

Any protest Izuku might have formulated dissolved into gleeful cackles as Mirio’s free hand crawled under his tee and started scratching at his taut stomach.

“NEHEHEHahhahaahahahahahaha!! Stoohhohohohahahahaap PLEHEHEHEHEHAAASE!!”

“Here too? You are one ticklish guy,” chuckled Mirio without being bothered by Izuku’s attempts to grab his wrist or shield his tummy, being much stronger than the green bean who seemed hell bent on not using his Quirk to get away.

Mirio’s friendly claw was wreaking havoc on Izuku’s belly, inflating and depressing to the bright tune of his laughter. He roamed all across the abdominal expanse, dipped one finger in Izuku’s bellybutton to unleash a few adorable squeaks, spidered his fingers on his lower belly and waist, then let his hand tweak at every part of Izuku’s skin under the tee, revisiting his sides, his ribs, making brief attacks on his pits, before descending and squeezing  Izuku’s hip…

The greenette’s eyes bulged open as he screeched “NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! NahahahahahHAHAAHAHAHHAHAT THEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHARRE!!!”

“I think you really mean it this time,” teased Mirio as he went on pinching and squeezing at the dreaded spot, switching sides so Izuku couldn’t keep up. When he saw there were only 20 seconds left, “You’re almost there!” he cheered as he latched onto Izuku’s hip and dug in repeatedly, fully unleashing his inner big brother to really give the younger student a laugh.

He kept his eye on the timer in case he couldn’t hear it over Izuku’s laughter, and when he saw it hit zero, he immediately let go of the green bean, only helping him steady himself so he wouldn’t fall again.

“There, there,” he said. “Take deep breaths.”

Izuku jumped off Mirio’s lap and landed on the chair in front of him, his perception of the hot seat completely altered after the last round of tickling.

“You good?”

“I’m… ok, just… uh…” stammered Izuku, and at first Mirio thought he was simply catching his breath, btu then he noticed how the green bean’s gaze was glued to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” said Mirio, causing Izuku to perk up. “Between my Quirk and working with Sir, sometimes I forget that some things come across as a bit weird outside of this office.”

“No, it’s… it’s ok, really,” assured Midoriya.

“I should have offered to let you tickle me first, because it’s really no big deal! Laughing is fun. Sometimes, if I’m having a hard day, I ask Sir to let me use the machine to feel better.”

That was some major Kirishima energy coming from the heroic goofball, and that familiar attitude relaxed the hold that embarrassment had on Izuku’s chest.

“But if it’s too weird for you, I can let you use the machine, or we can speak to Sir tomorrow and try something else!”

A wave of gratitude washed over Izuku. Still, “No, it’s… I want to do this,” he said. “Ihit’s not too… weird. In fact, I’m… kind of used to it.”

Mirio smiled. “I can believe that, your laughter really lights up the room! It’s so nice to listen to.”

That comment caused Izuku’s arm fortress to envelop his face again. Even so… “T-thanks,” he said. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that, and he’d started to accept it as a compliment. Since they’d moved into the dorms, pretty much every brush with tickling he’d had was not a way to demean him, but affectionate physical contact or a silly way to bond, and it had started to remove the sting of past memories with it.

And Mirio… Izuku was a bit intimidated by the upperclassman who should have received One for All in his place, he was just so amazing that despite his kind demeanor, or perhaps precisely because of it, Izuku felt some kind of resistance at the prospect of getting close to him. And still, over time, he’d started to want to be his friend. So the fact that he was acting the same way his friends did was… comforting.

“Ready for round 2?” asked Mirio.

“A-Already?”

“You have one more minute, don’t worry, but I have a proposal. Two, actually!”

“Ok,” replied Izuku nervously.

“First: we use the machine’s restraints so you don’t have to worry about punching me in the face or activating your Quirk. Sounds good?”

No, it didn’t, but it made sense, and he trusted Mirio. Even so, he gulped before saying, “Yes.”

“Proposal the second: if you want to get this over with quicker, we can turn on the machine while I tickle you. We’ll say that cuts the remaining time in half. What do you think?” 

If Izuku tried to hide the panic in his eyes, he certainly failed. That would allow them to go home sooner, especially Mirio, who was essentially working overtime due to Izuku’s own mistakes, but the green bean didn’t want to find out what being double-teamed felt like. “M-Maybe later.”

Mirio nodded, his smile unwavering, and walked over to the machine’s control panel. “Let’s see…”

As he pressed various buttons, the machine began to shift, changing its angle, adding and removing restraints, creating protrusions and depressions. That thing was a lot more customizable than Izuku had ever thought, and he couldn’t help wondering who had made it and how much money Sir must have spent on it.

“Hop on,” instructed Mirio. The machine was nearly unrecognizable. It was at around a 30° angle from the floor, with a large cubic protrusion emerging from the bottom that seemed to be intended as a seat. Two metal rings jut out from the front of the cube - ankle restraints, surmised Izuku. There was a second set of restraints at the top of the machine, two adjacent parallelepipeds with circular holes.

Izuku sheepishly made his way toward the machine, eyeing the four cavities from which the tickle-tools were supposed to come out. But he knew they wouldn’t unless he gave Mirio the go ahead.

Before hopping on the cubic seat, however, he paused to remove his top - his hair was already damp and he didn’t want to sweat through his change of clothes as well. Considering how many times he’d seen Mirio naked due to Quirk-related accidents, he didn’t feel too awkward.

Mirio flashed Izuku a thumbs-up as the latter climbed into the machine, the cold metal not entirely unpleasant against his bare back. He placed his ankles into the two rings, which snapped shut around the cuffs of his emerald trousers, then raised his arms over his head and fitted his wrists through the padded restraints above him.

Lying there was certainly more comfortable than standing or thrashing about in an office chair, but it also made Izuku feel that much more exposed and vulnerable, his entire upper body stretched out and on full display, his bare feet dangling out of reach.

His nervousness was partly allated when he saw Mirio step closer to him, having concocted a rather extravagant solution to allow Izuku to see the timer: he’d put his phone in his armband and donned it on his head, so the screen was smack dab in the middle of his forehead. It was exactly the kind of kind and silly thing Mirio would do to put someone at ease, and Izuku felt a wave of affection for the older student.

“Are you ready? I won’t be too mean, I promise.”

Izuku nodded, steeling himself.

“Ok. Boop the timer,” instructed Mirio as he leaned closer to Izuku’s face, allowing him to start the timer with his nose. It took a few tries, and Izuku chuckled in spite of himself. Mirio was trying so hard to put him at ease, he had to do his part too.

“Timer booped successfully,” he said as he tried to approximate the upperclassman’s speech.

“Fantastic!” exclaimed Mirio an instant before he started squeezing Izuku’s knees.

The ticklish jolt caused the greenette to jump a little, and Mirio went on squeezing, looking for just the right spot as his fingers probed at the fabric and the muscle under it.

“Eep! Eek!” yelped Izuku repeatedly, before the string of squeaks melded into a steady stream of high-pitched giggles as Mirio’s thumbs found just the right spot above each kneecap and wouldn’t let go.

Izuku’s titters were just too precious, Mirio knew at that moment it wouldn’t be the last time he’d volunteer to punish the green bean if he kept running headlong into danger. There was something so innocent about the way he kept scrunching his fists and soles to cope with the sensation, about the way his toes pointed inward as he twisted his knees to escape the tickles.

It was such a mesmerizing sight that Mirio ended up spending way more time on that spot than he’d intended, so he tried to make up for it by goosing Izuku’s thighs. 

“Hehehehehehehehehehe!! Hehahahahahahahahahahaah!!!”

Thankfully, the thick fabric diffused some of the pressure, making it a lot more bearable than it would have been otherwise.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” asked Mirio.

“Ihihihit tihihihckleehehs buhuhut Ihihih cahahahn tahahahahke ihihihit!” admitted Izuku.

“Ok, good to know!” replied Mirio. “Time to get serious!”

And he started spidering his fingers up and down Izuku’s ribs and sides. momentarily avoiding the hot spot that were his hips, but not holding back at all otherwise, playing the green bean like a piano.

The reaction was immediate.

“OhnoohohohOHOHOHHOAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” 

Izuku burst into laughter, it was so much worse when he was shirtless and couldn’t squirm away!

And Mirio didn’t linger on a single spot for too long, letting his fingers travel up and down, up and down, delivering light and quick touches like kitten licks.

Next he tried slowly dragging his fingernails, caressing the skin, and while Izuku’s laughter seemed to decrease for a moment, the longer he kept it up, the higher in pitch it rose, and it quickly spilled forth again, bubbling like a cauldron.

“EhehehehehHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAAHAHAH!!! PLEHEHEHAHAHAHAHSE STOOOHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHPP!!!”

The contrast between Izuku’s frantic struggling and the slowness and delicateness of Mirio’s touches was just beautiful, enough that the older student wondered if he’d just found his new favorite antistress. Lighter touches seemed to work just as well, if not better. That would make the machine very effective.

But he wouldn’t rest on his laurels, because when the fingernails ended their umpteenth descent, skipping slightly as they hit the ridges of Izuku’s ribcage before curving down the soft slopes of his sides, he began his ascent by squeezing at the flanks, massaging the area with his thumbs as he did so.

Izuku’s laughter instantly became lower-pitched, but also louder, a new gale spilling forth as he was blindsided by Mirio’s new technique. 

When he reached the base of the greenette’s ribcage, he laid off on the squeezing and let his thumbs do most of the work, digging in and massaging, causing Izuku to snort. Mirio lingered briefly on that spot just to get him to let out that adorable sound again, before proceeding to count each of his ribs in a rather torturous manner, and then back down, and up again.

“NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEH!!! HAHAHHAAH HAHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Satisfied with his initial exploration, Mirio then began mixing and matching methods and spots, digging his thumb in Izuku’s floating ribs while squeezing his side, scratching at his ribs while lightly dragging his fingernails down his flank, sometimes using both hands on the same side of his body, just to constantly keep him guessing.

The uncertainty and ever-changing pattern made it impossible for Izuku to get used to the sensation. Through half-lidded eyes, he managed to see there were about 4 minutes left. He could do it!

And then he felt Mirio’s fingers in his armpits.

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!! NAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!!!”

Mirio smiled at the mirthful outburst. If Izuku reacted like that when his underarms were under fire, how would he react when Mirio would get to his hips? For the time being, however, he was perfectly content with driving the greenette up the wall by wiggling his fingers in the damp hollows, his scribbling motions light and quick since that seemed to be particularly effective.

And Izuku could attest to it. “HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! PLEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSSEE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Three minutes.

Mirio kept it up for a few more moments before switching to massaging the hollows top to bottom with his thumbs, pressing gently but firmly, and though Izuku wasn’t as hysterical as before, there was no stopping the cyclical torrent of guffaws and spasms.

“It’s not as bad when I use my thumbs, right?” he asked.

Izuku would have preferred not to talk, but even if past experiences had taught him to answer his tickler, he still felt some kind of obligation toward the older student, so he forced himself to reply, “HIHIHIHIYEHEHEHEHEHEHESSS!!”

Mirio snickered at his own deviousness. Izuku would forgive him, he just had to do it. Time must have been almost up anyway.

“Good to know,” he responded before plunging his thumbs into Izuku’s hips, using the same massaging technique on the depression next to the bone and on his waist and V-line.

Izuku screeched. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHEHEHEHEEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAH!!”

He convulsed as if he’d been electrocuted, but the thumbs wouldn’t let go, so shrill, howling laughter exploded out of him. His shock of emerald hair flung droplets of sweat as he desperately shook his head in denial, a few landing on the display on Mirio’s forehead that kept ticking down. 1:43.

Even a few seconds in, Izuku’s laughter didn’t seem to subside at all. The poor guy was really ticklish. But Mirio wasn’t torturing him to have fun.

“Hey Midoriya, can you still hear me?”

“GHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NEHEHEHEHEEHHEHEEHEHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!”

“It tickles a lot, doesn’t it?”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHHAHAHHAAHAHKK!!! HAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH YEEEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHA!!!!”

“Good! So the next time you throw yourself into the fray without regard for your well-being, remember this, because I’m going to do it again. Got it?”

“EEEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA!!! PL-PLEEEHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“I need to hear you say it!” demanded Mirio as he started squeezing his hips rapidly.

Izuku’s eyes flew open, dripping ticklish tears down his cheeks. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHSSSSS!!! YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Good.”

Mirio gave a few more squeezes before his fingers relented, slowing to a stop a few moments before the timer went off.

“You’ve made it through round 2! Very well done!” he cheered, but Izuku was too busy filling his lungs with hair to respond.

“It’s a great workout for your core, isn’t it?” asked Mirio as he patted Izuku’s stomach. 

The greenette winced, expecting Mirio’s fingers to curl and start tickling him again, but the upperclassman did no such thing.

“Whoa! Wat is that, some kind of manly endurance test?!”

Izuku felt a mixture of relief and horror when he noticed that two figures were standing on the threshold, and if the outline Izuku could make out through the mist of tears hadn’t been enough to identify one of them, his energetic, enthusiastic voice was unmistakable.

“I want to try it!!” beamed Kirishima, his whole face lighting up at the prospect of such a fun challenge.

“Hey, Tamaki! And you must be Kirishima, right?” asked Mirio, pausing the timer as he went to greet them. “This is supposed to be a punishment, but I can try asking Sir if you’d like.”

Izuku blinked the tears away and noticed Kirishima staring straight at him and the machine with awe, while Tamaki was doing his best to look at anything but Izuku, which made the supremely awkward meeting feel even more unbearable.

“I think y-you and t-this one have something in common,” stammered Tamaki in what may have been a tragic attempt at a quip.

“Hey Midoriya! How’re you holding up?”

Izuku nodded, muttering a feeble “F-fine.”

Mirio patted him on the head. “This champ has been going at it for twenty minutes. Only thirty to go!”

Kirishima’s eyes bulged as he did the math. “Fifty minutes?!”

He knew very well just how ticklish the greenette was, and the compassion and admiration he felt for him was bottomless.

“Think you could handle it?” asked Mirio.

Kirishima crossed his arms in front of his chest, instinctively protecting his sensitive upper body. “Good luck, Midoriya,” he wished somberly.

“Let’s leave him to rest, he’s earned it,” commented Mirio as he tried to move the conversation away from the disheveled greenette. “What brings you here?”

“Fatgum a-asked us to get case file TK-131. S-Sir Nighteye approved, he told us y-you’d be here.”

“That must be somewhere in the archive, I’ll help you find it! Have you been waiting long?”

This time it was Kirishima who replied. “Just a minute or two, we heard laughter inside and Suneater told me it was normal and to wait.”

Mirio smiled at his shy friend. “Good! The archive is downstairs, the door on the left, I’ll come help you out in a moment.”

Tamaki thanked him and led Kirishima away, but not before the redhead pumped his fist at Izuku to encourage him, while Mirio made his way back to Izuku.

“I have to help them for a little bit. Think you can handle the machine?”

At that stage, Izuku doubted that the machine’s fluffy appendages could be worse than Mirio’s strong and uncomfortably skilled fingers, so he was almost relieved to hear the offer.

“Great! I’ll just set it, give me a second… So, this would be the third round, so Level 3 it is… standard tools? Yes… 10 minutes… starting in 1 minute. Need a bathroom break?”

Izuku slowly worked his way through the words Mirio was saying to him, elaborating through a cloud of artificial giddiness. 

“S-Sorry you have to… do this on my… account,” he panted.

Mirio shook his head and retrieved Izuku’s bottle to let him drink. “You really have nothing to apologize for. But is it weird if I say I’m doing this because I agree with Sir?”

Izuku allowed himself to chuckle, his sore throat refreshed by the drink. 

“A little bit. But it’s not… so bad.”

Mirio smiled back, remembering only at that moment to remove the band from his forehead. “I’m going to go help them. And not like there’d be anything wrong with it, but we’re not going to hear you downstairs.” He winked and went after the Fatgum interns.

Izuku closed his eyes, trying to steady his breath and slow down his pulse. He could do it. It was just a workout. A very weird workout. And embarrassing, too. But Mirio’spersonality had the power to remove the sting of shame. For the most part. He could do it. He’d been through worse.

He took one last deep breath as the machine whirred to life. He eyed the lower set of openings, the ones of a height with his waist. It was just going to be a bit of fluff, he could take it. Fluff designed specifically to tickle him into submission. Even if that was true, it couldn’t be worse than a human with five fingers per hand!

But as the pink appendages emerged, looking like something in between foxtail spikes and miniature feather dusters, Izuku couldn’t help but notice that there were two per opening, and they immediately got to work, feathering his sides and his even more sensitive hips, from the bone to the waist of his trousers.

“Hehehehehahahahahahahahahaha!!! Hihihahahahahahahahaahahahahahaha!!! N-Nohohohahahahaha!!”

Izuku, and way too many people around him, knew he was feather ticklish. In fact, he could feel every little barb of each of the four appendages, coming together for an effect greater than the sum of their parts. It felt different from rougher forms of tickling, like it was calling on his skin to come alive, a teasing sensation that was just as intense as form of stimulation with more pressure, but for which laughing did not feel like a suitable outlet, causing him to dissolve into breathy, hiccuping giggles punctuated by the occasional snort - less loud, just as tortured, and, possibly, even cuter.

And just as Izuku started questioning whether he’d underestimated certain things, the machine powered up again, extruding two more pairs of fuzzy appendages that began to oscillate up and down his ribs and in his underarms. What a terrible time to find out that his armpits were just as receptive to soft tickles as his hips.

“Wahahahaahahahahahaihihihit!!!! F-Fohohohohouhuhur wehehehehehehre ehehehnOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHahahaahahahahahahahAHAHhHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!”

But Izuku was in for another disappointment, because amidst his thrashing and laughing, he didn’t notice a panel slide forward under his feet, and an additional four fuzzy appendages got to work on thoroughly tickling his soles from heel to toe, one pair largely focusing on his arch and instep, the other on the ball and the base of his toes.

No new ground was broken this time - Izuku already knew that his feet were also extremely feather sensitive.

“NEEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!! IHIHIHIT’S TOOHOHOHOHO MUUUUHAHAHAHAHAHHCCCHHH!!!”

And that was when he realized that no matter how much he begged, the machine wouldn’t relent, the machine wouldn’t stop. He was on the hook for the entire ten minutes. 10 minutes during which the fuzzy appendages would keep caressing his sides and ribcage, dancing in his underarms, following the defined line of his pecs and back into the sensitive hollows, slithering up and down and across his soles so no matter how much he scrunched or waved them, they’d never escape the tickles, torturously teasing his waist and hips, inevitable.

The specially designed fuzz wouldn’t warp from continuous contact with ticklish skin or by absorbing the moisture of the layer of perspiration it erected as a last defense, no, it would keep delivering surgically precise tickles for the entire time it had been programmed to, without mercy or emotion, the twelve swaying appendages like hands counting down the seconds, and Izuku the hysterical, overstimulated clock face.

It tickled so much and in such a teasing, penetrating way that Izuku couldn’t help fighting against the sensation, trying to distract himself by counting, telling himself it couldn’t be much longer, but the seconds stretched into minutes and the stimulation was overwhelming.

First he stopped thrashing, not because he’d run out of energy or wanted to save it, but because he’d accepted defeat. He wasn’t going anywhere. Once again, he could only embrace what was happening to him, trying to focus on the smaller part that felt pleasant rather than torturous.

Then he stopped begging, which he’d kept up not to convince anyone except himself, that there was something he could do to put an end to it, at least at first, then the pleas melded into a mantra, which was finally broken by the hiccups and snorts.

Finally, he let the tears roll down his cheeks freely, unencumbered by shame or delusions of control, cutting through the freckles and dripping down his neck, allowing the giddiness to consume him.

That was the state Mirio found him in, plus a multitude of hiccups, a minute or so after the machine stopped, having already sent Tamaki and Kirishima on their way.

“Well done! you’ve made it past the halfway point!”

Izuku was too busy huffing and puffing to reply, but accepted Mirio’s offer of another sip of water and declined a toilet break. 

“You know, I was a bit like you a few years back,” said Mirio, filling the silence while he allowed Izuku to recuperate. “I wanted to keep everyone safe. Except for myself, I guess.”

The greenette forced himself to look at Mirio.

“It’s like Sir said. If you die, you can’t save anyone else. Think of all the good you could do in the future.”

Izuku sighed. If only it were so easy. The Quirk he’d been given, All Might’s torch…

“But it’s not just that. I understand you want to prove your worth, but you aren’t just a hero. You’re a person. You have people who love you and a life to live to the fullest.”

That struck a chord within Izuku. How often had he worried that his classmates were putting too much pressure on themselves? That they - no, not even him - weren’t ready for that kind of responsibility yet?

“And if you want to be a hero, be a hero for as long as you can. You have to value your life and respect your body. Got it?”

Izuku thought he could hear echoes of All Might in the upperclassman’s words, and wondered if he’d ever given Mirio a similar speech. Maybe he wasn’t changing his priorities yet, but there was something to that opposing viewpoint, something he’d have to confront, because it came from someone who seemed to understand him.

The green bean swallowed the last of his hiccups to simply say, “T-Thanks.”

“Mull it over, ok? Now we just have to make sure it sinks in. Only two rounds left!”

Twenty minutes. The thought horrified Izuku. No. He wanted it to be over as soon as possible.

“Can… you do it… too?” he asked, pushing down his nervousness. “To… halve the… time.”

The only way out was through.

Mirio would have patted Izuku on the shoulder if the way he was restrained didn’t make it impossible. “A fine choice, Midoriya! No need to turn up the intensity either,” he replied as he programmed the machine.

“You ready?”

Izuku steeled himself, then nodded.

The machine started up again, the appendages instantly sending Izuku into a new fit of hysterics. 

“Hahahahahahahahaha!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!”

“You’re a brave one,” said Mirio as he walked toward the guffawing greenette. “Now, repeat after me. My life is important,” he instructed as he started squeezing his knees again.

“HEhehehehhahahahahaahahahahaha!!! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHNNT!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA!!”

“Sure you can!” urged Mirio while moving up to Izuku’s thighs, to give him an extra incentive. “My life is important!”

Izuku had convinced himself that with the machine already overwhelming his senses, Mirio’s touches would have lost some of their power. He was wrong.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! M-MYHIHIHAHAHAHAHHAA LIHIHIHHIFE IHIHIHHIS!!! IHIHIHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“You can do it!” said Mirio while kneading his thumbs into the muscle of Izuku’s thighs.

“IHIHIHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!! IHIHIMPAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! IMPOHOHOHHAHAHAHAHARTHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNTT!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

What Mirio was doing, reaching deep under the skin, tickled in a completely different way from the twelve - twelve! - mechanical foxtails writhing in all his most ticklish spots, so instead of diffusing each other, the sensations compounded to instantly make Izuku regret his decision.

“You’re doing great! ‘My health is important!’”

Mirio’s requests prevented him from sinking into the sensation, forcing him to remain present at all times.

It also didn’t help that Mirio had moved his right hand away from Izuku’s thigh and had started scribbling his fingers on Izuku’s lower stomach, causing Izuku to spasm and to let out a loud squeak.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!! NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!”

“My health is important!” repeated Mirio without letting up in the slightest.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAPPP!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! MYHIHIHHI HEHEHEHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! IHIHIS IHIHIHIMPOOOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHRT-TAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“I’ll take it. Now for the last one!” promised Mirio while his second hand joined the first in scratching and poking all over Izuku’s abs, more prominent than ever due to the intense workout they were receiving.

“EEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! EHEHEHEHEHHENAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAUUHGHGHGHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!!!”

“You’re almost there! ‘I am important.’”

“HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! IHIHHIAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHMMM!!! IMP-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!”

“Again!”

“IHIHIHIMPAPPAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! IHAHAHAHAM IIHIHIHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAH!!! IAMIMPORHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!”

“Uh, your belly looks like a pretty ticklish spot too, uh?” observed Mirio while his ten fingers continued to wreak havoc on said ticklish tummy. “Fear no, I came prepared!” he assured, seemingly without considering that he could just stop tickling Izuku to let him speak.

Instead, he pulled a green marker out of his pocket, removed the cap, and started writing something across Izuku’s glistening chest. “I… aaaaaaammmm…. immmmpooorrrrtaaaaannnnnt!”

Unfortunately, the tip also happened to tickle Izuku terribly, and Mirio was dexterous enough that his left hand didn’t have to stop scratching at his belly while he went on writing, tracing over the most ticklish letters smudged by Izuku’s perspiration or that were rendered unreadable by his useless squirming, renewed by the sheer intensity of the double attack.

“What was the second one? Mmmmmyyyyyyyyyyy… heeeeaaaaallllth… iiiiisssss… iiiiimmmmpoooooo-impooooooortaaaannnnt!” he spelled out as he wrote the letters right under Izuku’s pecs, uncovering a new ticklish spot for the greenette.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!!! MMMMIHIHIHHIRIOOOOOHOHOH!!! STAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHPPP!!” begged Izuku, throwing all formality out of the window.

“No can do, Midoriya! Myyyyyyyyyyy… llllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiffffffffeeeeee… iiiiiiisssss…”

He’d started writing across Izuku’s belly, dodging the rivulets that glistened in the abdominal creases, and if the green bean had hoped that would mean Mirio’s left hand would remain idle or return to a spot protected by his trousers, he was sorely disappointed as the ticklign fingers attacked the underside of his pecs.

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!”

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmpoooooooooooooooorrrrtaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnt!” concluded Mirio, writing the “o” around Izuku’s bellybutton and circling it repeatedly before dipping the marker into the navel to color all around and inside it.

Mirio uncapped the marker, which gave Izuku enough bandwidth to remember just how awful the fuzz on his hips, soles, and in his underarms tickled, aided and abetted by the appendages still working over his ribs and sides.

“Good job, Midoriya! You’re almost done!” cheered Mirio as all ten of his fingers descended on Izuku’s defenseless tummy again.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAPPP!!! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHHAHHAHAHA!!! CAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHANNNTTT!!!”

“You can, I believe in you!” claimed Mirio while his fingers crawled up Izuku’s abs all the way under his chest, and then back down. 

“HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA!!! IHIHIHIT’S SOOOHOHOHO TIHIHIHICKLIIIIHIHIHISH!!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! IHIHIH CAHAHAHAH!!! IIIII CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHHAAA!!!”

Total meltdown. Izuku gave up, he had no choice but to, his mind melting into ticklish insanity as the machine lightly tickled his pits, ribs, sides, hips, and feet, seeming to make him even more sensitive to Mirio’s compassionate yet ruthless touches. 

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, unsure whether Mirio was still talking to him or if his mind was clinging to anything to preserve its integrity, his lungs on fire, his senses overrun by the tickles, unable to see under his own damp curls and tears…

He felt his arms go limp, seemingly having slipped through the restraints. No. The machine had let him go. Neither it nor Mirio were tickling him anymore, even as he still felt the horrid fuzz demanding his ticklish atonement all over his body.

This time, Mirio was really talking to him. “...done for real. Congratulations!”

izuku gave a sheepish nod. Was it over? Was it really over?

“Shall I pick you up?” offered Mirio, and Izuku, tickled into accepting anything, nodded again without thinking.

He felt Mirio’s wiry arms lift him up without effort, and though he maybe should have felt embarrassed - not like his classmates wouldn’t pick him up just because they could - all he felt was safe and relieved.

Mirio gently deposited him on the office chair. “You might want to shower again,” he recommended as he pointed to the sentences written in green on Izuku’s upperbody. But the green bean primarily wanted his ticklish spots out of sight, so he put on his t-shirt anyway.

Mirio retrieved his shoes for him and helped him out, sneaking a few tickles to his sole. Izuku collapsed back into the chair in a fit of happy giggles, but he didn’t pull his foot away, because he could tell the upperclassman would stop immediately, and he did.

“Sorry we had to put you through all that,” said Mirio as he clasped the greenette’s hand to help him stand up.

“I… deserved it,” conceded Izuku, exhausted but also kind of happy. As far as punishments went, intense though it was, it seemed to create no hard feelings.

Mirio retrieved his own duffel bag and walked to the exit with him. “You know, if Sir punishes me tomorrow for lying, you might be able to get your revenge,” he said with a conciliatory chuckle.

Izuku giggled. No, it was ok… “I just… might take you up… on that,” he surprised himself saying.

[runninriot]

Small Treasures To Keep

inspired by the prompt 'Love is not in the big things but in the small ones' by @sidekick-hero written for @steddielovemonth day 9

wc: 1.472 | rated: G | cw: none | tags: Musician Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington has a crush, just sweet boys being sweet, friends to lovers

   “There were like, at least 200 people there! And they were actually enjoying our show! Can you believe that? It was amazing, Steve! They listened to us play, and banged their heads, and they cheered after every song. Some of them even asked if we had any merch with us and obviously we didn’t but we gave out autographs and- Oh! I almost forgot! I got you something! I’ll be right back.” Eddie nearly topples off the couch in excitement.

Steve watches him with a smile on his face, equally amused and charmed by Eddie’s dorky behaviour, and bites back a laugh when Eddie almost stumbles over his own feet as he hurries towards his bedroom.

Eddie is a menace. So strange and irritating at times but in such an endearing way it’s impossible not to like him.

Steve’s been listening to him talk non-stop since he arrived at his trailer about ten minutes ago. Talking himself breathless while recounting the events of Corroded Coffin’s first real gig, as Eddie calls it.

Steve can’t blame Eddie for being so over the moon, so overjoyed and proud. So thrilled to have gotten the chance to play as substitute opener for some Indiana metal band last night.

It must’ve been a blast, by the sounds of what Eddie’s been telling him. And Steve really is happy for him but somewhere deep down he’s still a little sad. Because he was supposed to be there for the show, to watch his friend perform in a venue four times the size of The Hideout, in front of an actual crowd. But Steve had been caught up at work because Keith called in sick last minute, leaving Steve in charge of the closing shift at Family Video which meant he couldn't make it out in time for the gig.

That really sucked.

Steve had been looking forward to the concert ever since Eddie asked him if he wanted to come see them play. When he told him it would mean a lot if he did. That he’d appreciate to have his emotional support there because he’d been so nervous about the whole thing.

It made Steve feel special, in a way. Like he’s important to Eddie, important enough for Eddie to want him there. For wanting Steve to witness the most exciting moment in the band’s history since Gareth’s mom had finally relented and let them use the garage for their rehearsals.

Steve had wanted to be there.

So, not being able to go was utterly frustrating. Not only because he really would’ve loved to watch Eddie play his guitar on a real stage but also because he kind of felt like he let Eddie down.

It was a miracle he even got a hold on him over the phone to tell him the unfortunate news. Eddie was just about to leave and make his way to the venue when Steve called him. (He would've already been out of the house had he not spilled a drink on his shirt and needed to change.)

Steve was gutted when he heard Eddie let out a heavy sigh, felt a pang in his heart at the defeat in Eddie’s voice when he told him that it was okay.

He felt horrible, like a bad friend. Unreliable and disappointing.

But then Eddie told him he understood and not to worry his pretty head about it. Said he wasn't angry, just sad because he wouldn’t be able to look out for Steve in the crowd when his nerves got the better of him.

    “Promise you’ll think of me?” Eddie had asked and the promise spilled easily over Steve’s lips because-

Well. When is he not thinking about Eddie?

The guy with the unruly mane and chocolate brown eyes. The guy with the cheeky smile and a passion for teasing words. Whose small flirty gestures get Steve’s blood boiling and make his heart jump.

He’s on Steve’s mind constantly because he’s a constant in his life now. A good friend, a kind soul. Annoying, and loud, and wonderful to be around.

Eddie is-

    “Ah, fuck!”

The clattering sound of something takes Steve out of his thoughts and he can’t help but chuckle when he turns towards the noise and his eyes fall on Eddie, helplessly fumbling with the chain hanging from his belt loops that got stuck on the door handle.

When he's finally managed to free himself, he speed walks over to Steve with a big grin on his face. Eddie comes to a stop right in front of him, expectantly looking down at Steve as he triumphantly holds up a crinkled piece of paper, waiting for him to take it.

   “What is that?” Steve asks, confused and unable to identify what he’s now holding in his hands.

Upon closer look he realises it’s a flyer, or it had been one before someone decided to tear it in half. Steve can barely make out some dates and half of the name of a venue, thinks it might be one for the show last night.

   “Look at the back,” Eddie says and his smile widens even more.

When Steve turns it around, he sees the Corroded Coffin logo scribbled on the backside of the paper. Beneath the band’s name, he immediately recognizes Eddie’s squiggly handwriting, thinks he can make out the names of the other band member’s too.

Steve looks back up at Eddie, returning the smile as he realises what this is.

   “You got me an autograph? That’s so cool! Thanks, Eds!”

   “Not just any autograph. It’s the first. When people came asking for autographs we panicked a bit because no one had ever wanted us to sign anything. So we practiced. What you have there is the first piece of paper Corroded Coffin have ever signed. Gareth wanted to throw it away but I saved it because I wanted you to have it. Y’know, uh, because you couldn’t come to the show and I, uhm, I still wanted to share the experience with you.”

Eddie’s face turns bright red and he seems nervous all of a sudden.

And Steve just... stares. Lets his eyes drift between Eddie and the small treasure he’s holding in his hands.

It might just be a piece of paper, some might even call it trash. But to Steve this is something precious. Something he’ll hold onto forever because Eddie gave it to him. Eddie thought about him when he should’ve been buzzing with ecstasy over their successful gig.

   “That’s-“ Steve doesn’t know what to say.

So instead of talking he stands up and pulls Eddie into a tight embrace, feels his heart beating like crazy when Eddie returns it with his own arms wrapped around Steve.

   “I love it,” Steve says, keeps other words hidden inside.

They tentatively let go of each other, still staying close, still standing toe to toe.

   “Maybe it’ll be worth some money if me and the guys make it big one day.”

It already is Steve’s most valuable possession.

   “When, not if,” Steve says matter-of-factly, holding the paper close to his heart.

   “You really think so?” Eddie asks, voice hushed like it’s a secret wish that might come true if he doesn't jinx it.

   “Mhm.” Steve nods. “But I would never sell this autograph. I’ll frame it and keep it forever.”

   “You will?” Eddie asks, a little disbelieving but also...

    Hopeful?

And for a moment they just stand there, looking at each other wide-eyed and red-cheeked, both flustered and shy. Smiling.

   “Forever,” Steve says honestly, more meaning to the word than he’s ready to admit.

-

A few months later Steve finally gets to see Eddie and his band play on a real stage, in front of an actual crowd. He’s there in the front row, cheering for Eddie, buzzing with joy and pride.

And when their eyes meet in the middle of a song Steve doesn’t yet know is about him, he decides he’s going to tell Eddie that he loves him.

-

And when years later a reporter asks Corroded Coffin’s manager – who’s known to have been close friends with the guys forever (there are even unconfirmed speculations about him and the lead singer being lovers) – at which point in life he knew they had made it, Steve smiles and says “When I held their first autograph in my hands���.

The reporter laughs and the other band members roll their eyes fondly at the cheesy response. But Eddie looks at him and returns the smile, unnoticable for anyone other than Steve. And in that moment it means more to him than the gold ring he's secretly wearing on a chain around his neck. It means more than success and what they've accomplished in life.

It's a small thing, a hidden 'I love you'.

Another small treasure to keep.

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

Ideas for subverting popular character tropes? I've started a story and am having difficulty making my cast of characters unique. I'd love it if you had any fresh takes on tropes like the mentor, the sidekick, etc...

POPULAR CHARACTER TROPES AND PROMPTS TO SUBVERT THEM

A character trope, sometimes called a character archetype, is a “recognizable element within a story or plot that defines or conveys information about a character. Character tropes can either define a character's entire role in a plot or the character's personality or motivations.” (source: arcstudiopro).

Many people bash “tropes,” but what you have to remember is that there is no such thing as a unique idea; everything has been done before, and the reason why tropes are so popular is because (a lot of time) they work!

It is totally possible to have a "normal" trope in your story without making it a cliché. However, if you’re looking to subvert these expectations, here’s a list of ideas I’ve come up with!

(This is me brainstorming on the fly to help get your gears turning, so I apologize if these aren’t fully fleshed out or if they’ve already been done before!)

1. THE CHOSEN ONE

The “Chosen One” is a trope where “one character is framed as the inevitable hero or antihero of the story, as a result of destiny, unique gifts, and/or special lineage” (source: Wikipedia). The Chosen One is often depicted as naive or unwilling at the beginning, and has a progression of growth through the narrative when they “accept their destiny.”

Examples:

Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)

Harry Potter (Harry Potter)

Frodo (The Lord of the Rings)

Neo (The Matrix)

Subversions:

1. The protagonist who was believed to be the chosen one from the very beginning discovers that it was actually someone else the whole time and must come to terms with the realization that they no longer have this title that they’ve based their entire life (and perhaps personality) around. (Bonus points if the new Chosen One is someone they’re close to).

2. Every solstice, the “Holy Order” sends a Chosen One to defeat the monster that has been ravaging their town. None ever return. The protagonist is selected as the next Chosen One, only to find that being Chosen does not mean “Chosen to defeat the monster” but rather “Chosen as the sacrifice to appease the monster.” (Bonus points if the reason the Chosen Ones always die is because the “Holy Order” misguides them (gives them broken weapons/drugged food/faulty armor/directs them into traps/etc.)).

3. Having the Chosen Power comes with a price. After someone is Chosen, it is a death sentence. The protagonist must find a way to defeat the villain AND purge themself of the Chosen Power before it’s too late (Bonus points if the villain helps them purge the Chosen Power).

2. THE SIDEKICK

The sidekick is a friend and helper of the main protagonist. They are often depicted as a loyal comic relief character made to emphasize the hero’s greatness, and may be killed off to advance the hero’s journey.

Examples:

Robin (Batman)

Samwise Gamgee (The Lord of the Rings)

Chewbacca (Star Wars)

Pan (His Dark Materials)

Subversions:

1. The “sidekick” is actually the hero of the story; the narrator just has an inflated ego and believes themself to be the hero. Meanwhile, their “sidekick” is the one saving the world.

2. Sidekicks are often depicted as younger than the hero. Perhaps an older sidekick might do good to spice things up (Bonus points if it’s without turning them into the mentor trope).

3. The sidekick is a former hero who had to watch their own sidekick sacrifice themself, and was convinced to leave hiding by the current hero. (Bonus points if the sidekick dies in a poetic way that is a narrative foil to the way his own sidekick died, perhaps in a “I didn’t understand why they would sacrifice themself for me but now I get it”).

4. A ridiculously strong/powerful Mary Sue type character is the sidekick to a Normal Guy™ (Bonus points if they are incredibly content in this position).

5. The sidekick is not a willing sidekick; they were kidnapped by the hero because they have an object/bloodline/power/etc. that is essential to defeating the villain.

3. THE MENTOR

The Mentor is the protagonist’s teacher, who helps them transition from a “normal” person into a hero. The Mentor is often depicted as wise and virtuous, teaching the protagonist not only the ways of fighting or magic, but also the ways of good and evil. The mentor is often killed off to advance the hero’s character arc, due to the fact that they are sometimes seen as a parental figure.

Examples:

Dumbledore (Harry Potter)

Yoda (Star Wars)

Uncle Iroh (Avatar the Last Airbender)

Mr. Miyagi (Karate Kid)

Subversions:

1. The mentor is the narrator. After spending so much time training the Chosen One and raising them like their own child, they must hear news that they have been killed by the villain. While still grieving (or perhaps fueled by revenge), the mentor must venture out and defeat the villain themself.

2. Have the mentor be a woman! You would be shocked at how overwhelmingly male-dominated the “mentor” archetype is!

3. The mentor turns on the protagonist that they trained…not because the mentor has turned evil, but because the mentor believes that the protagonist has become a monster (à la Kung Fu Panda). (Bonus points if the mentor is actually right and the protagonist really has become a monster).

4. The bright-eyed Chosen One thinks the world of their mentor, only to realize through experiences with others that the mentor trained them horribly, and that the mentor only used their training to boost their renown—without expecting them to survive their fight with the villain. (Bonus points if the protagonist is an unreliable narrator, and we as the readers feel just as betrayed by the mentor because we, too, thought they were a great person).

5. The mentor is the former Chosen One, desperate for the current Chosen One to not make the same mistakes. The current Chosen One resents the mentor for pushing them so hard and treating them so cruelly, but in reality the mentor is just overprotective (Bonus points if it’s not revealed that they were the legendary “Defeated Chosen One” until later).

4. THE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS

Although a Damsel in Distress is often associated with female characters, any character is capable of falling into this archetype; mostly known for being a passive figure who exists mostly as an object for the hero to save.

This is one of the few character tropes that is difficult to break the negative stigma, due to its root in misogyny and the disadvantages that come along with having a character without personal goals or motivations. In my opinion, if you have a character that follows this archetype to the T, perhaps you should consider some revising.

Examples:

Lois Lane (Superman)

Princess Buttercup (The Princess Bride)

Mary Jane Watson (Spiderman)

Ann Darrow (King Kong)

Subversions:

1. The passive, meek damsel in distress whom the hero has been working relentlessly to save actually turns out to be a villain! Their supposed rescue efforts were used as a distraction while the evil plot unfolds, and ends with a fight to the death!

2. The damsel in distress gets in a huge fight with the protagonist when they come to the rescue; they were undercover the entire time, and the protagonist has ruined their plans!

5. THE FEMME FATALE

The femme fatale is usually characterized as a mysterious woman who seduces and entraps men with her body. This doesn’t necessarily have to be a gendered archetype, but often errs into sexualization and misogyny (especially in works written by men).

Examples:

Jane Smith (Mr. & Mrs. Smith)

Nikita (La Femme Nikita)

Catwoman (Batman)

Catherine Tramell (Basic Instinct)

Subversions:

1. The Femme Fatale doesn’t know they’re a femme fatale. They are a master of seduction and gaining valuable information through licentious wiles, but it’s all an accident; they just-so-happen to sleep with rivals and they just-so-happen to say important information. The femme fatale casually brings this information up in conversation, rendering the team awed by their “impressive skill set.”

2. The Femme Fatale is male or nonbinary (Bonus points if they will seduce any gender).

3. There is a Femme Fatale team; an icy power couple dedicated to killing through threesomes.

6. THE GEEK (OR MAD SCIENTIST OR NERD OR KNOW-IT-ALL ETC.)

The Geek, or the Mad Scientist, is the character known for knowing everything. They often have a lack of social skills, and their vast knowledge of random things helps the characters when they’ve been backed into a corner…though they sometimes tend to be a quick fix for writers who’ve written their characters into a corner and need an easy solution.

Examples:

Sheldon (The Big Bang Theory)

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds)

Spock (Star Trek)

L (Death Note)

Subversions:

1. The Geek has leadership skills and ability to inspire others. Awkward is not the complete opposite of charismatic; just because someone may have trouble talking to people doesn’t mean they can’t foster intense loyalty from their comrades. (Think along the lines of L from Death Note. Bonus if they’re the leader of their organization, and their subordinates would face God and walk backwards into Hell for them).

2. Combine the Geek with another archetype, perhaps an antithesis archetype like the Dumb Jock. For example, a Geek that enjoys the outdoors and extreme sports like rock climbing (but rather than to get buff, they just want to look at the fantastic granite deposits on the side of the mountain they’re climbing). Or perhaps a Geek Femme Fatale, whose “special interest” is the psychology of seduction.

3. The Geek hates what they do. The “passion” that Geeks usually have for machines/non-humans/their chosen expertise is forced upon them because they’re super smart. In reality, they’d wanted to take it easy going to business school but nooooo the world was at stake so they had to become an expert in the intergalactic space-time continuum.

4. The Geek is useless. Their musings are more mania than genius, their explanations and ideas incomprehensible to a normal human being, and the group only keeps them around with the hopes that one day they’ll come up with an idea that actually makes sense. (Bonus if that idea comes at the climax of the story).

8. THE DUMB JOCK (OR HIMBO)

The dumb jock, also known as “the brawn,” is an archetype that is often categorized by being all buff and no brains. They often are, or at least begin as, the antagonist of the story, and if they aren’t, they’re considered the “Himbo” character (with character traits being buff, dumb, and respectful to women), who are often reduced merely to their attractiveness and stupidity, without much depth.

Examples:

Jason Carver (Stranger Things)

Mitch Downe (ParaNorman)

Kronk (The Emperor’s New Groove)

Bolin (The Legend of Korra)

Subversions:

1. The himbo and/or jock is frustrated with the way that their comrades always reduce them to the brawn. They feel left out and isolated because they can’t understand the lofty conversations of their peers, and know that they, in a way, look down on them for not being as smart (Bonus if this becomes a major plot point in the character’s arc, causing a huge blowout fight that fissures the group because of it).

2. The himbo/jock’s stupidity does not reduce them to comic relief. The himbo/jock is well-respected and has incredible emotional intelligence and charisma/street smarts, but merely lacks in textbook intelligence.

3. The himbo/jock is a woman! Break through the stereotype of dumb strong people being men and put some herbos in your story (Bonus if you don’t sexualize her and just let her be herself).

4. An idea from the jock/himbo becomes an integral part of the plan to save the world!

9. THE ANTIHERO

The antihero archetype is categorized by their lack of conventional heroic attributes, their execution of their goals through morally gray means, and their frequent reluctance to be the one saving the world. Their motivations may be vengeance, hatred, or any other less-than heroic inspiration besides “the greater good.” In fact, the antihero is sometimes the antagonist of the story, but due to the fact that the audience is seeing things from their perspective, they often tend to root for them.

The antihero used to be its own subversion of the “Chosen One” archetype, but became so widespread that it itself became its own archetype. That’s why antiheroes are so varied, to the point where you may not even need a subversion due to how many possible ideas there are to choose from. (This was the hardest list to make!)

Examples:

Barry Berkman (Barry)

Harley Quinn (DC)

Cassie Thomas (Promising Young Woman)

Deadpool (Deadpool)

Subversions:

1. The antihero feels guilt. Oftentimes, an antihero is depicted as stone-cold and dead-set on their actions (and sometimes they’re right! If someone killed my family, I wouldn’t care about “being the bigger person”). However, an interesting subversion may be guilt or self-awareness surrounding their actions playing a large role in the execution of their goals.

2. The antihero is not a lone wolf, and develops meaningful and positive relationships with others rather than having it be 90% snarky banter. Sometimes, antiheroes suffer from a lack of three-dimensionality due to most of their dialogue being cheeky one-liners. Anchor them solidly into the story by building a web of relationships to support them! (They don’t have to all be lovey-dovey, either! Even enemy relationships can be more than snark).

3. An honor code. Giving an antihero with an interesting honor code regarding killing, stealing, or any of their other morally gray deeds could be an excellent subversion! Having characters who are stone-cold killers but draw the line (perhaps in an odd way, such as refusing to steal cars or kill pets), somewhere can be a great way to develop their personality and show the readers their motivations.

Hope these all helped, and happy writing!

[gothamnewsnetwork-official]

Is the Justice League using unpaid child labour?

Though it is not confirmed the exact ages of most heroes and their various sidekicks, it is safe to say that many of them are well below the age of 18, this raises the question of just how good the Justice League really is.

The names Batman and Robin have been closely linked since the creation of the later, the big Bat and his bird-themed sidekick are a staple of both Gotham City and vigilante culture as a whole, but what is the reason for the mantle of Robin being essentially exclusive to children? Though the ethics of all this doesn’t seem to be much of a concern to the various costumes characters of Gotham, one would imagine the Justice League would protest the use of child labour in any form of heroism.

This, however, is not the case. As user Pilztaube ( @emotional-piece-of-meat ) noted in (this post), the League quite accepting such practices. This brings to question the ethics of earth’s mightiest heroes as they seem to be a bit too comfortable with a child being in harms way if it is for the ‘greater good’.

This doesn’t just apply to the Robin’s, as many of the members of the League have had a child sidekick and one point or another, though none have been as young as Robin (the youngest known age of a Robin being 8).

There have even been rumours that more than one member of the team are underage themselves, the most notable being Captain Marvel (see related articles), otherwise known as Shazam. There have been multiple eyewitness accounts of Captain Marvel disappearing, only for a young boy to appear in his stead. Though it has never been confirmed many believe the young boy and Captain Marvel to be one in the same.

Hypocrisy is what many in the villain community are calling it, stating that the JL has been going after them for years under the guise of stopping the usage of child labour when all the while these ‘heroes’ have been doing the exact same thing, and we can’t help but agree.

We would like to make it clear that this journal supports the eradication of child labour, and condemns the league’s usage of such, and find it appalling that they are often times putting children in much worse working conditions than the villains are (see further articles).

We have reached out to multiple members of the Justice League as well multiple villain organizations for further information but none have responded.

We’d love to hear your thoughts on the topic (here)

Gotham Reports is certified in unbiased, fair, and reliable journalism

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

DAY 10 – Begging for mercy

“But I’ve already made Hero beg for mercy,” complained Villain. “It was dull.”

Supervillain looked at their employee above their cup of tea, and slowly shook their head.

“You thought you did,” they said. “But how did you do it?”

“I’ve threatened to kill Sidekick, of course. Works every time. It’s not hard.”

Supervillain frowned, then grabbed the honey and poured a little more of it in their drink.

“That’s your problem. If they beg for someone else, that makes it noble. That’s not the same at all than when you make them beg for their own life. Then, you truly have them in your grasp. Then, you’re sure they have broken. Do you understand?”

Villain shrugged, annoyed:

“I think I do, yes. But I don’t know how. They’re pretty prideful. It’s gonna take so much time, and well, I have better things to do.”

“That’s the problem with a side hustle,” agreed Supervillain, taking a sugar roll. “In our time, we just can’t spend our days torturing people like we used to. Fortunately, you don’t have to do it.”

“Really? But I thought-”

“Do you want a sugar roll? They’re really good.”

“No offense boss, but after you poisoned Henchman 1, 2 and 3 with them, I’d rather not.”

“None taken. I salute your vigilance.”

Supervillain took a bite and waved their hand:

“Anyway, people always say that torture is refined. Actually, it’s very simple. Lock your Hero away in a cell and use the “3 No” rule.”

They raised three fingers:

“No food, no human contact, no light. If really they’re as tough as you said, add loud noises blaring at random intervals. Sleep deprivation does wonders. Do whatever you need to do and come back to see them in a couple of days. If they don’t beg, rinse and repeat.”

“You are so learned!”

“I’m good at what I do, Villain. And you’ll be, too, I believe in you. Go- have some fun.”

*

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist

Whump/Horror Masterlist

[whenicarusflies]

I've been seeing a lot of posts about the batfam being older than everyone else/operating for longer than everyone else, and I was thinking about it being reversed. so imagine is the batfam (including Bruce) was younger than... pretty much everyone.

superheroes have only been around for about five years by the time Bruce decides to become batman. It didn't affect him much either, none of them ever came into Gotham, and he rarely left. He didn't have any superpowers so he instead turned to combat. He was trained by the best of the best, and after a few years he was ready to start going out as Batman.

By now the Justice League has formed. Bruce didn't find out about the formation of it until a few months later (he didn't care much).

He didn't plan on making a scene or a spectacle when he patrolled. Just because there were other heroes who enjoyed the spotlight (*cough*Superman*cough*) didn't mean he would. He was there to make Gotham safer.

Superheroes and vigilantes alike began hearing rumours about Batman after a few months of him operating in Gotham. They talked about it, about the possibility of a vigilante in Gotham, but ended up agreeing that it was probably made up. who would operate out of Gotham of all places?

A year passes, and rumours of Batman are getting more frequent and more believable. Several members of the superhero/vigilante community have gone into Gotham to see if they can find this mysterious 'Batman', but to no avail. (Bruce knows. He avoids them on purpose. Poster boy for being an introvert). They eventually accept that if there is a Batman he doesn't want to meet with them.

Six more months pass and Haly's Circus visits Gotham. Dick Grayson in orphaned and adopted by Bruce Wayne. Months pass and life seems to go back to normal. Then comes another disaster. Normally Batman would intervene, but this time it's getting dangerously close to Gotham.

Finally the rumours of a Gotham vigilante are confirmed to be true. But to the other heroes disappointment the masked vigilante leaves as quickly and quietly as he arrived. Later that year Robin makes his appearance. Some of the other heroes have sidekicks of their own, but it isn't a widespread thing.

Years pass and disasters keep happening and Batman keeps helping, and eventually he stays around to exchange a few words, and eventually he agrees to join the league.

Robin is ecstatic, and its not long before he's mingling with the other sidekicks ("partners" Dick insisted) and after that its not long before the Teen Titans are formed (Robin is easily the youngest).

Batman rises through the ranks of the league quickly, and while not everyone (or no one, to be more exact) likes him, he has their respect.

Mirroring his progress Robin quickly becomes the leader of the Titans, proving himself more than capable in the field.

Things continue on like this for years. Batman becomes one of the leaders of the Justice League. Robin becomes respected among the younger generation of heroes. Batgirl joins the ranks of the Gotham vigilantes, and later the Titans (Robin is still the youngest).

It is safe to say that Batman isn't close to any other vigilantes (they are under the impression that he is as old as they are, and not (at least) ten years younger. He does not want to let them know his real age, as he would risk losing the respect he has so painstakingly gained).

Alas, all good things must come to an end. The relationship between Bruce and Dick grows strained. They fight more often then they ever have. Dick leaves and takes on the name Nightwing. Barbara goes with him (not completely, but it became less and less often that she would patrol with Bruce). Batman stays the same (it has been a long time since be has patrolled alone).

Then someone steals the tires of the Batmobile. And thus, Jason Todd becomes Robin.

The league members don't say much about the new Robin. At least, not to his face. Behind his back they speculate and theorise to their heart's desires, but it is, inevitably, impossible to find out why there was another Robin.

Dick Grayson is barely eighteen and leading people who are five years older than him. He ignores Gotham as best he can. He doesn't want anything to do with Bruce or his new Robin.

But months pass, and then a year. And Barbara starts patrolling more and more in Gotham again, and starts training the new kid, and she talks to Dick about it and eventually he starts patrolling in Gotham again too (it always ends with him and Bruce yelling at each other, and if he sees the new kid ("His name's Jason, Dick, not 'the new kid'" Barbara's exasperated voice rung in his mind) wincing or sneaking away every time it happened, well, it was none of his business).

But things get better. Not every visit to Gotham ends in a shouting match, and Jason evens joins the Titans.

And then it got worse. Things got very bad, very quickly. Jason found out about his mother. Jason died. Barbara was shot.

This time, when Robin disappeared, the League wasn't waiting for him to come back with a new name. This time they were scared.

Batman was out of control. No one had seen Batgirl in months, but Nightwing had said she was okay (he never said anything about Robin).

Six months passed and, lo and behold, there was a new robin.

The original Teen Titans had disbanded after Nightwing killed the Joker. (Wally thought that, even covered in blood, his face look startlingly young).

And then things began to settle again. Batman returned to normal. A few years along the line a blonde girl became Robin, and a few years after that she joined Tim Drake as Batgirl. Oracle became well known. Orphan was widely regarded as a good fighter. (they all looked so young).

And Red Hood came to Gotham. Robin was beat and inch to death in one of the safest places in the world. Crime Alley was... better. The Joker was alive, and another child was bleeding out because of misplaced trust.

But things moved on, as they always did. The Outlaws formed, and the first time Red Hood took off his helmet Arsenal nearly choked when he found out the vicious Crime Lord as not only twenty-something, but hot as fuck the Robin who had died all those years ago.

Damian Wayne was discovered and the Robin mantle was stolen passed down. Things began to unravel. Dick became Batman. Tim left to prove Bruce wasn't dead (a small part of Dick is mourning his younger brother, praying that the grief doesn't drive him insane at such a young age, that Tim will make it through this, he tries to help Tim (he doesn't know how)).

But Bruce comes back, and its not long before Signal joins them too. And, finally, things began to settle, and stay settled. Life is normal (as normal as it can be).

Batman talks to Superman first. Then to the entire League.

Barbara still has the footage of them finding out that one of their most highly respected members, one of their leaders, is younger than... all of them.

[scott-is-hyperfixating]

I'm of the opinion that Hawks and Dabi are an introvert and extrovert who are mistaken as an extrovert and introvert, respectively.

Hawks' entire hero persona relies on him being bubbly, friendly, always ready to talk to fans, pretty much the textbook definition of an extrovert, so I think it would make sense that his persona is a creation of the HPSC that isn't at all reflective of his real personality. I also believe he has very few friends, none of whom he ever completely relaxes around, because socializing for him is so tiring because he's only ever done it in the context of his hero persona and he doesn't know how to do it as himself. I imagine he's most comfortable when he can do stuff alone, hence why he leaves his sidekicks behind all the time. He can fulfill his need to be useful and maintain his public identity by utilizing his fastness to be alone.

Dabi is a theatre kid who's never done theatre that wasn't a crime, I think we know this by now, but specifically the kind of theatre kid that was quiet around "normal" kids and loud as shit with other theater kids. Like those theatre kids, he avoids being loud and extroverted when it could get him mocked (or, more accurately, get his plan found out before he can complete it), but when he's free of that worry he's the bane of everyone's existence simply because he's so outspoken and unembarrassed about everything he does.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun chapter 37

Hey guys! I'm so sorry I haven't been updating the series on tumblr. If you want to see all my fics, i always update them on ao3. That said, I hope you enjoy this! leave a comment and reblog if u do qwq

Here's the ao3 link if you prefer to read it over there!

And here's the masterpost <3

Or keep reading to read the chapter here <3

It had been a week since Damian was taken by Skulker, since Danny had to flee for his life from Amity Island, and since precious secrets were blown wide open by Bruce freaking Wayne and the Fenton parents.

Now Tucker’s parents and Sam’s knew about their illicit aquatic activities after school (and during school if he was gonna be honest), and had put them under house arrest for the time being. Tucker cursed the himbo billionaire under his breath, careful not to alert his mother and draw agro (she’d taken to personally driving him to school during his grounding).

He admired the man! Sam admired him! And then he went and did them dirty, all because he believed the same baseless propaganda Danny’s parents and the GiW were peddling. That all sirens were ruthless evil killers blah blah blah etc etc insert more blahing here.

Just when you think there might be one decent billionaire in the world, huh?

And yeah, he realises that he could’ve avoided all this suspicion and drama from his parents if he’d just decided to stay further back and not be so active helping Danny, but seriously? Abandon his BFF in times of need? Tucker was many things, but he was not some traitor. He saw the way Val’s friends jumped ship the moment she lost her job, and he would never, ever do Danny the way they did Val.

It could be worse. Mr Wayne could’ve spilled the beans to the whole town, or even the GiW, and then the whole trio would get to be dissected together, joy, but he didn’t. He had to give the man credit for not being as completely awful as he could’ve been (Tucker still hated the man, though).

And, of course, Danny’s secret could’ve been outed. For all he beat himself up over the last week, Tucker took solace in one fact, that at least he and Sam had managed to prevent the biggest secret of their lives from leaking, even if some smaller ones got out.

When Danny got home, he was so gonna celebrate with a million Nasty Burgers.

As for the situation in Amity Island, well.

The ground rocked from an explosion. Tucker gripped his seat. Outside the car, two GiW trucks rushed in after a trio of hydropuses. An agent leaned out from the window of the leading truck, firing wild shots that left craters in the pavement, and none of which that hit the hydropuses.

Even though the bigger names seemed to have abandoned ship (hehe) for the time being, there were still the occasional small fry, namely generic oceanic monsters that would’ve taken Danny (or Sam, or hell, even Tuck with a wrist ray) seconds to beat back.

He didn’t miss the way his mother’s grip tightened ever so slightly on the steering wheel. Yikes. Despite being a whole week, his parents had not cooled down in the slightest.

Part of it hurt. It was like there was one flick of a switch and suddenly his own parents thought he was in cahoots with a supervillain. They never had any strong opinions on Phantom before! Why now? The past week had left him with a much more intimate understanding of Sam’s rebellion.

They drove past the Gastons in White and continued up to school without much more ado, the car ride silent as it had been for the last week. Once they arrived at Caspian High, Tucker shuffled out of the car, with the unreadable stare of his mother going down on his back and ignored to the best of his ability.

If home was tense, school was a mine field that only grew more treacherous. Day after day, he and Sam watched sides form and solidify in the school hallways and in the teacher’s lounges. Was Phantom a hero? Did Phantom kidnap and/or kill the D kids?

Was Danny his accomplice, or his sidekick?

Neither of them could stand back. Sam practically threw herself into passionately defending both of Danny’s names. If they couldn’t fight the sea monsters, then they’d fight the tides of public opinion.

Seemed Sam had gotten a head start today.

“You’re just jealous your loser crush is gay for Phantom instead of you.”

That statement made Tucker feel a lot of things, and comfortable was not one of them. A crowd had gathered around Dash and Sam, two people who were together in the ‘Phantom is not evil’ crowd but clashed about as often as if they weren’t thanks to their very different opinions on Danny Fenton.

“There is so much wrong with that statement you couldn’t be more wrong than Chamberlain. Firstly, that’s disgusting. Danny was kidnapped. Secondly, YOU HAVE A SHRINE TO PHANTOM IN YOUR ROOM.”

Seemed like Dash couldn’t lay off the bullying even as kids were beginning to wonder if Danny was straight up dead. Like, wow. Sure the first 48 hours is the best chance to find a missing person, but there was literally no reason to think Danny would have kicked the bucket right now.

If you ignore the fact that, without knowing what he and Sam knew, there was a 99% chance that some siren did it, even if it wasn’t Phantom. And the fact that he was the son of siren hunters. And the fact that most people believed sirens were bloodthirsty maneaters.

Well, when put that way, sure he and Sam looked like grief-ridden lunatics grasping at straws, but you know what? Tucker was never, ever one to care about his public image (that was a complete lie).

“It’s not a shrine, it’s a dedication, and it’s manly as fuck. The heroic spirit, the manly vibes, the body of an Olympic swimmer, no, god!” Dash swooned.

Tucker pushed his way through the crowd in time to see Sam doubling over and gagging like she had a stone in her throat, and he was right there with her.

For one, Danny definitely did not have the body of an Olympic anything. That shit was reserved for guys like Superman who didn’t get shot by the government on a daily basis. 99% of what Danny ate just went into healing what little muscle he had on him.

“I’m sure Phantom’s heroic spirit would really appreciate you badmouthing Danny while he’s literally missing.” Oh boy, that was 10% more venom than Sam’s normal. Time to pull out and fast.

“Phantom wouldn’t care for a twink like Danny, who’s way below his league, and I bet Fentina knew it too. Hell, I’d bet Fentina did a Fentumble into the water once he realised how hopeless his life was.”

Oh shit. Tucker sprinted.

Due to some sorcerery-related mumbo jumbo he half-got, a good punch from Sam would literally turn Dash’s nose into a pan cake and send the jock spinning like a ballerina, and as satisfying as that would be in the moment, they really didn’t need to give their parents any more reason to be angry.

Tucker jumped in front of Sam’s advancing fist, which was one of the most terrifying things he had ever laid eyes on, only for the crystalised death to halt a millimeter from his face.

“Get out of the way, Tucker.” Sam’s face contorted something fierce.

“Y-yeah! Get out of the way, Foley. A real man can fight his own battles, thank you very much.”

“Shut up, Dash!” Both she and Tucker shouted.

Tucker gave Sam a look. Sam glanced to the side, and the fighting stance shifted into casual dismissal. “Whatever. Who needs to punch a ticking time bomb when it’ll destroy itself in time?”

“I have no idea what that means, Manson, but you wanna say that again to my face?” Dash shouted, which Tucker found hilarious, seeing as Sam literally just did that.

The duo retreated from the crowd and into the school, with Sam’s glare keeping anyone from following them. The thing, or person, that Tucker saw? Valerie Gray, who’d been on sick leave for the last week, and still looking objectively terrible.

With attacks still happening, the GiW causing more problems than they solve, and the daunting tides of public opinion, there was still a lot to do for Tucker Foley and Sam Manson back at home.

“Alright, just click, like this.” Danny let out a bat-like click from the back of his mouth. The echoed far and wide and reverberated across the water. Miliseconds later, the sound returned in loose, uneven patches in between more delayed and smooth echoes. “The earlier they come back, the closer the object is. The first bit was for the whale pod. The second part tells us the terrain is flat. Now you do it.”

Damian closed his eyes underneath his blindfold, and produced the same sound. The echo tickled his outstretched ear fins, dozens of nuggets of information packed to within the span of a millisecond. “I can see it, almost. Or hear it.”

“Ok, then. What’s in front of us?”

The younger boy stilled in his seated position atop his folded tail. He focused on the way his scales tingled with sensitive touch upon the mother whale’s skin, how the gentle current tickled his fins, and how his ear fins latched onto each and every sound. Danny had also taken the liberty of wrapping him up tight with cloth in order to block off his lateral line, and prevent him from relying on that. Damian called out three times, and three times did the sound return to him. Without sight, his ears picked out something that felt distinct and rigid, sharp even. There was also the slightest variation in one of the pitches across the three echoes. He turned his head to the direction of that shape, and called again.

“One of the calves is in front of us. From their size and speed, I think it is Runt.”

“Bingo!” Danny clapped. “You’re getting good at this.”

Damian beamed with pride so much that even his fins puffed up. “I was born to excel.”

“You rich kids and your egos.” Danny sighed with fondness. “Right, let’s try some harder targets. How many fingers am holding up?”

The smaller siren noted the stronger scent from Danny from his outstretched hand. “You call that difficult?” Damian chirped a low note. “Easy. Four.”

“Uhh… No. Try bobbing your head side to side.”

Damian’s cheeks heated, and he shook his head strongly. “That sounds ridiculous and juvenile. Laughable, even.”

“I mean it! Helps you get perspective and stuff. Ever heard of the parallax effect? It’s like, one of the most important navigational tools ever.”

“I am well aware, however, I do not need such a crutch.”

“Uh uh, and how many fingers am I holding up?”

Damian clicked, and answered. “Six!”

“Nope.”

Chirp. “Five.”

Another call. “Guess again.”

“Nine?”

“Dude, that was not even close. You sure you’re actually hearing my fingers, and not my ear fins?”

Damian pouted. “Of course not!” He said, while also focusing closer on where he believed Danny’s hands were held up. His next call resounded sharply off the ridges of a membrane, what he hoped was his friend’s hand webbing and not his fin membranes. A soft echo returned, then a slightly louder one. “Is it two this time?”

“Yayyy! You did great!” Then came the sound of clapping. Damian hissed and snapped his teeth on whatever was in front of him. He did not catch them, judging by the empty feeling in his mouth and the whooshing of water.

“Do not patronise me.”

“I wasn’t! Just a pointer. Try a higher note. It’ll help get the smaller details, thanks to a shorter wavelength.”

The younger boy tutted, although inwardly he berated himself for not thinking of such an idea sooner. When everything about your body is new, the minutiae of optimal behaviour tend to slip away from you.

“I knew that…”

“Yeah yeah, how many fingers?”

This time, Damian focused his voice into a piercing note an octave above his previous attempts. The feedback resulted in something akin to image, but which was felt, not seen. He could tell that it was definitely more than two fingers, but the shape was blurry to him.

So he sighed, and privately admitted defeat. This echolocation practice had been going for a good hour, and he was itching to make proper progress. With a resigned slump, Damian shifted his head to the right, and clicked again. The returning echo gave him another look on the hand, a wide shape suggesting a fully fanned webbed hand, but it was narrow, as if the thumb was down.

“Four,” he decided.

“Told you so,” Danny said with a snicker.

Damian swiped his hand at Danny, and smirked when his claws caught a couple scales, much to the other boy’s shrieking surprise.

On the deck of the SAV, Jack Fenton hammered in the last adjustment to the Fenton Siren Spy Drone. The spy drone’s design was Maddie’s stroke of genius. He’d been trying to perfect a compact and light design that caused minimal disturbance to the local environment, but just couldn’t get the thing to be silent. Then Maddie proposed a whole new propulsion system, and suddenly it was as quiet as a mouse! Then Brucie came in and suggested some ideas from Wayne E’s RD department for a more aerodynamic frame

And that was a good thing, because the less their targets knew about their observation, the better. This last week had shoved in their face just how little they understood about sirens in general, and the one they were pursuing.

He couldn’t get the image of Danny out of his mind, his boy being trapped and alone. Brucie had hit up his contacts in Panama seeing if they could help with the search on land, but there was no news yet. He wondered if what Mads saw was just a trick by another suffering sirenito; even she was beginning to doubt it.

As Jack stepped back from the spy drone, and tested its controls, he had to wonder just how long will it take to find their boys.

[quinns-shadowy-arts]

No More Running

Day 7 of @steddielovemonth‘s Steddie Love Month Event!   Rating: General CW: None Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a romantic  WC: 1,122 Prompt: “Love is what makes you brave” submitted by @sidekick-hero

Note: Guess who came down with a cold. Me. Guess who ignored their many deadlines to write this. Also me. Sorry if this isn’t the best (and is also very late), but I’m pretty sick and can’t breathe out of my nose. I wanted something soft to make me feel better, so I wrote this. Enjoy!

He wasn’t going to run anymore. That’s what Eddie promised himself when he woke up from surgery after being dragged out of the Upside Down. He wasn’t going to run, and he hasn’t. He hadn’t run from Wayne, he hadn’t run from the somehow alive Jim Hopper, he hadn’t run away from the aftermath of Vecna, and he wasn’t going to run from this. 

Eddie’s been developing feelings for Steve since he made that promise. Waking up to learn that the Steve Harrington bridal carried his half dead body out of hell really does something to a guy. Not only that, but Steve is one of the sweetest guys Eddie has ever met. Long gone is the King Steve of Hawkins High; replaced by a loving, caring, and smart man. 

Steve had been there for Eddie through the whole recovery process. He helped with proving that Eddie was innocent, he helped Eddie with bathing, and he helped Eddie with cleaning and wrapping his wounds.

 Steve also helped Eddie with processing the trauma of Spring Break. He held Eddie’s hand and talked him through panic attacks. He stayed awake with Eddie when sleep seemed like a monstrous task; the fear of what he’d dream fraying Eddie’s nerves and keeping him awake. 

Steve was also just an amazing person overall. He had an amazing sense of humor; making Eddie’s ribs ache with the laughter he tugged out of him. Steve was smart, he could read people’s emotions like no other. He knew exactly what Eddie was feeling by looking at him for only a couple of seconds. Steve could pull the real reasons as to why Eddie was quiet out of him when no one else could.

He was easy on the eyes, too. His chestnut hair looked glorious, styled or not. His eyes were kind and genuine; but could turn bitchy in a way that sent heat down Eddie’s spine. Steve’s hands were big and spotted with freckles and moles, like the rest of his body. His skin was sun kissed and hairy. Everything about him made Eddie want to pounce on him. 

Everything about Steve had made Eddie fall head over heels in love with him. Eddie knew about Steve’s woeful dating history; knew about Steve’s failed loves. How people have used Steve for a quick fling or bragging rights before tossing him to the side. 

Eddie wanted to give Steve the world. Eddie wanted to worship Steve the way he deserved; to kneel at his feet and kiss up his body, to whisper praises into his ear, to pump Steve full of love and want, and maybe some other things besides love, too. Eddie wanted to make sure Steve knew that he deserved better than those past flings could have ever provided.

That’s why Eddie is stood outside of Steve’s font door, holding a bouquet of deep, ruby roses. Eddie had put on a black button up and black jeans. His wallet chain still dangled on his hip, complementing the silver of his rings. He had tied his hair up into a bun, leaving some framing pieces around his face. He spent a while on doing himself up, had wanted to look good for Steve.

He leaned forward and knocked at the door. Steve always teased him about not using the doorbell, but Eddie liked knowing that Steve knew it was him at the door based on his knock alone. 

Eddie heard shuffling from behind the door before the sounds of the lock being opened filled his ears. His heart picked up its pace, knowing how close Steve was. Eddie sends out one last prayer, despite not believing in any type of greater being, that Steve felt the same way he did. And if he didn’t, to at least keep Steve in his life for as long as possible. 

The door swung open, Steve stood in the doorway in grey sweatpants and a Hall and Oates T-shirt. He looked absolutely gorgeous like this, soft and relaxed. He had obviously been lounging around before Eddie had come knocking on his door. 

“Hey, Eds!” Steve said, a smile stretched across his face. Eddie’s gut filled with warmth. His heart stuttered with the overwhelming love he felt for this man. 

“Hey, Stevie. I hope I’m not bothering you?” Eddie said. Steve shook his head,

“Nah, man. You’re not bothering me.” Steve looked down,

“What’re those for?” Steve looked back up and made eye contact with Eddie. 

“They’re uh, they’re for you, actually.” Eddie turned his head away. He could feel his face warming up. He held the roses out for Steve to take, hopefully he’d take them. 

Steve grabbed the bouquet, pulling Eddie’s attention back up. Steve’s own cheeks and ears flushed. 

“Why? Is there an event or something that I’m missing?” Steve sounded shy and a bit nervous. Eddie shook his head and smiled at Steve. 

“No, I just wanted to get you flowers. Could I talk to you, actually?” Eddie asked, he shuffled his weight from foot-to-foot as he spoke. He was nervous and scared about confessing his feelings to Steve. He really hoped that this wouldn’t destroy their friendship. 

“Sure, yeah, come inside.” Steve said, stepping away to make space for Eddie. Eddie stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He turned to Steve, straightened his back and gathered all of the courage he could muster. 

“Steve, you’re my best friend. You mean so much to me. You’re so kind and amazing.” Steve’s blush deepened at Eddie’s words, 

“You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. You’re strong, not just physically, but in every aspect of the word. You are so observant, you can always tell when I’m upset. You can read me like a goddamn book,” Steve chuckled and looked down at the roses in his hand, he was never really good with accepting praise.

“You are my everything, Stevie. And I’ve developed a lot of feelings for you, So, would you like to go out with me?” Eddie finished. Steve’s eyebrows had raised with surprise, his mouth forming an “o” shape. Steve blinked, then his mouth fell back into a smile.  

Steve walked up to Eddie, dropping the hand holding his flowers to the side. He placed his free hand onto Eddie’s face. His thumb swiped over Eddie’s cheek before pulling him in. 

Their lips smooshed together and a fire lit up in Eddie’s chest. Steve’s lips moved against Eddie’s, their lips forming a rhythmic push and pull. After a minute, Steve pulled back. He smiled at Eddie, both their faces still red and warm to the touch. 

“I would love to go out with you, Eddie” Steve whispered against Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie’s so glad he didn’t run from this.

[allisonbaelfire]

Amethyst. - PART 18

A few days later, the day of the internship arrived. I packed my suitcase carefully, double-checking that I had everything I needed. Best Jeanist’s agency wasn’t too far from home—about an hour and a half by train—but I wouldn’t have the luxury of returning anytime soon. This would be my home for the next several days, and while I wasn’t sure what to expect, I felt ready for whatever came my way.

When I arrived, the agency’s atmosphere struck me immediately. It was different from my father’s agency in every possible way. There was no imposing grandeur, no overwhelming sense of authority. Best Jeanist’s agency was quiet, controlled, and precise. Everyone moved with a clear sense of purpose, like they were part of a well-oiled machine, each piece functioning perfectly within the whole.

The sidekick who greeted me at the entrance mirrored that same calm professionalism. “Y/N Todoroki? Welcome. We’ve been expecting you.”

I nodded politely, my eyes wandering as I followed him through the sleek hallways. “This place is… different,” I said, more to myself than to him.

The sidekick glanced over his shoulder with a slight smile. “Best Jeanist believes in control in all things. That extends to how we operate here. You’ll find that everything has its place.”

There was something about the way the agency functioned that immediately put me at ease—like the tension that usually coiled in my chest had loosened just a little. It felt… organized, like there wasn’t room for chaos here.

Finally, we stopped outside a set of large doors. “Best Jeanist is expecting you,” the sidekick said, gesturing toward the doors.

I reached for the handle, but before I could turn it, the doors swung open. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed and scowling as usual, was none other than Katsuki Bakugo.

“What the hell are you doing here, Frostburn?” Katsuki’s voice was sharp as ever, his crimson eyes narrowing at me.

I blinked in shock, momentarily frozen. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

Katsuki snorted, looking at me like I was an idiot. “Dumbass, this is my internship.”

I stood there for a second, trying to process. Of all the places he could’ve ended up, Bakugo interning with Best Jeanist seemed… out of character. He was all about explosive displays of power, always showing off—this quiet, methodical agency didn’t seem like his style at all.

“You? Here? With Best Jeanist?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief out of my voice.

“Yeah, what of it?” Katsuki’s eyes flashed as his scowl deepened. “You think just ‘cause I blow shit up, I can’t handle this?”

“No,” I quickly backtracked, still thrown off by the revelation. “I just… didn’t expect it.”

He rolled his eyes and stepped aside, letting me into the room. “Tch. Don’t think you’re special just ‘cause you’re here, Todoroki. This ain’t your territory.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t say it was.”

Before either of us could fire off another round of retorts, a voice cut through the tension.

“Welcome,” came the calm, measured voice of Best Jeanist. He stood tall, hands clasped in front of him, his posture as perfect as always. “I trust Bakugo has given you his own version of a greeting.”

Katsuki scoffed but kept his mouth shut, which I imagined was as respectful as he was going to get.

I smiled faintly. “I think I’m getting used to his brand of hospitality.”

Best Jeanist’s eyes settled on me, his calm gaze unwavering. “Good. You’ll find that control and discipline are the foundations of this agency. It’s not only about mastering your quirk but refining your mind and body as one. Here, there is no rushing—no shortcuts. Everything must be done with precision.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words. This wasn’t just about fighting or training—it was about mastering every aspect of yourself as a hero.

“We’ll begin with something simple,” Best Jeanist continued, glancing briefly at Katsuki. “You’ll both be patrolling with me today. While observing, I expect complete focus. Instructions must be followed precisely, without deviation. Understood?”

Katsuki’s jaw tightened, clearly struggling not to bristle at the word ‘restraint,’ but he nodded, his eyes steely. I nodded too, determined to take this internship seriously.

I wasn’t new to patrolling, but this would be different. Back when I was a pro hero, I’d done mostly night patrols—sometimes with Hawks, sometimes on my own. But those were usually quiet nights, filled with criminals that were easy too freeze, when they weren’t paying attention. Also with Hawks as mentor I was good in combat and not a match for most of the night criminals.

“Good,” Best Jeanist said, his tone final. “There is much to be learned in the art of restraint. Remember, control is the ultimate form of strength. I expect both of you to demonstrate that over the coming days. Now suit up.”

With that, he turned back to his work, leaving Katsuki and me standing in the room. Katsuki shot me a glare before heading out. “Don’t get in my way.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re the one who should be worried about that.”

Afterward, the sidekick led us to the guest rooms. The agency was equipped with sleeping quarters for interns and sidekicks, simple but functional. My room was next to Katsuki’s, each with a bed, a desk, and a small bathroom with a shower. Practical, but nothing flashy.

“Tch. There could’ve been at least a TV or something.” Katsuki muttered.

After unpacking quickly, I slipped into my old pro hero costume. It was sleek, black with lilac lines running along the sides, designed specifically to resist both fire and ice. The material hugged my body perfectly, almost like a second skin. Practical and protective, it was meant for combat—no unnecessary frills. I adjusted the collar, glancing at myself in the mirror.

When I stepped out of my room, I wasn’t prepared for the sight of Katsuki standing there, already suited up in his own hero gear. His sleeveless black top emphasized his muscular frame, the grenades strapped to his wrists only adding to his usual aggressive look. His muscles flexed slightly as he adjusted his gauntlets.

I felt my cheeks flush before I could stop it. Damn, he’s… built.

Katsuki’s sharp eyes zeroed in on me immediately. “What’s with your face, Frostburn?” His tone was accusing, as if he’d caught me doing something wrong.

I quickly looked away, focusing on literally anything else. “Nothing,” I muttered, praying he wouldn’t push it further.

“Tch. Whatever,” he muttered back, brushing it off.

________

The rest of the day was spent on patrol, but it wasn’t anything like what I expected. Best Jeanist had a completely different approach to hero work compared to what I was used to. I had done plenty of night patrols before, but those were mostly quiet evenings, with minor incidents or criminals. Best Jeanist? He noticed everything—no detail was too small. He didn’t just deal with crime; he managed the everyday chaos of the city with calm precision.

For Katsuki, it was clearly a struggle. He had never really done patrols before. His focus was always on the big fights, the dramatic moments where he could unleash his power. But Best Jeanist was different—he resolved things before they even became a problem. No explosions, no showing off. Just quiet control.

I could feel Katsuki’s frustration simmering under the surface with every minor incident we handled. There was no chaos to dive into, no enemies to crush—just small tasks that required patience. Directing traffic after a minor accident, helping civilians… nothing that satisfied his need for action.

“This is a joke,” Katsuki growled at one point, though loud enough for me to hear. “We should be out there handling the real stuff, not playing traffic cop.”

I shot him a look. “Not everything has to explode for it to matter, Bakugo.”

He glared at me, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Tch. What do you know? You’re used to being wrapped up in your family’s drama.”

That stung, and I felt the heat rising in my chest. “At least I’m not trying to bulldoze through everything like an idiot.”

Before either of us could say anything else, Best Jeanist’s calm voice cut through the tension.

“Enough.”

There was no anger in his tone, just quiet authority. Both of us immediately quieted down.

“Hero work isn’t about showing off or proving yourself through force,” Jeanist continued, his sharp eyes moving between the two of us. “It’s about control. Patience. Knowing when to act, and when to hold back. You both have power, but without control, that power is useless.”

Katsuki’s jaw clenched, but he stayed quiet. I could tell Jeanist’s words hit home for him, even if his pride wouldn’t let him admit it. And for me, the reminder about control was a humbling one. That’s why I was here, after all—to learn control.

The rest of the patrol went on in tense silence. Katsuki and I didn’t exchange any more words, but the glares were still there. Every so often, I could feel his eyes on me, burning with unspoken frustration. But I wasn’t going to back down just because Bakugo couldn’t handle a little discipline.

By the time we returned to the agency, I was exhausted—mentally more than physically. Best Jeanist had handled everything with such calm control that it made me feel even more aware of my own lack of it. Where my father used power to demand control, Jeanist commanded it effortlessly.

“This will be a long week with those two,” I heard Jeanist murmur under his breath, though it was more to himself than anyone else.

Katsuki didn’t seem to catch it, but I did. I almost smirked. Best Jeanist had no idea.

Back at the agency, Jeanist gave us a nod. “That’s all for today. Rest well, and be prepared for more tomorrow.”

_________

After the long patrol, I was mentally and physically exhausted. Best Jeanist had a way of making even the smallest tasks feel important, and while it was impressive, it also left me feeling drained. I took a long shower, letting the hot water ease the tension in my muscles. Wrapped in my pink pajamas with white stripes, I crawled into bed, hoping sleep would come quickly.

But instead of rest, my mind kept spinning. The day’s events, the relentless discipline, and my own past crept into my thoughts. Eventually, I must’ve fallen asleep, but it didn’t last long. My dreams were filled with the same familiar nightmares: the forest, Toya, the Sports Festival… and the Ice Dragon. It all blurred together, a chaotic mix of emotions and memories. I must have been making noises again because before I knew it, there was a sharp knock on my door.

Katsuki’s POV:

After the day’s patrol, I hit my bed with the intention of crashing hard. Best Jeanist’s methodical, slow-paced approach was driving me up a wall. It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle it—it was just so damn boring. No action, no explosions, nothing to blow up. But whatever, I could take it. Not like I hadn’t done harder shit before.

I pulled the covers over my head, figuring I’d be out within minutes. But then, I started hearing it. Quiet at first, but noticeable. There were noises coming from the room next to mine—Y/N’s room.

I ignored it for a while, telling myself it was probably nothing. But then it got louder. She was talking or… mumbling? It was weird. Annoying as hell too. What the hell was she doing over there? Sleep-talking?

I tried to bury my face in the pillow, but then it turned into these half-screams. My eyes snapped open. Seriously? I didn’t need this crap. I rolled over and covered my head with my pillow, trying to block out the sounds.

It didn’t help. They just got louder, like she was fighting someone in her sleep. I clenched my jaw, feeling irritation bubble up inside me. Great. Of course she had to be next door, ruining my night.

“Damn it,” I muttered, throwing off my blanket and stomping over to her room. I pounded on the door, fully ready to rip into her if she didn’t shut it.

After a minute, she opened the door, looking completely out of it. And just like that, I froze.

She stood there in her light pink pajamas, her hair a total mess, about to fall out of that bun. Her face was flushed from sleep, eyes half-lidded, looking… peaceful, but vulnerable in a way I’d never seen her before.

I blinked. No. Snap out of it. What the hell are you thinking?

“Stop,” I muttered, shaking my head like an idiot. “Can you finally shut the hell up? I’m trying to sleep, and some people take this internship seriously, so shut it!”

Y/N’s POV:

Katsuki’s sudden demand caught me off guard, but more than that, I was confused. I’d been asleep for hours. Then it hit me. The nightmares. I’d been making noise, maybe even talking in my sleep—something I’d been dealing with for years, but never thought would bother anyone else.

“I must’ve had a nightmare. Sorry,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling embarrassed. I didn’t want to look him in the eyes, so I just shut the door in his face, not knowing what else to say.

Katsuki’s POV:

She shut the door. Just like that. I stood there for a second, staring at the wood like an idiot. Great. I wanted to yell at her, and now I felt… I don’t know. Bad? Nah, that wasn’t it.

But damn it, why’d she look like that? So… different. I never really paid attention to how she looked, but seeing her all messed up like that, sleepy, not trying to keep up her usual guard… she looked beautiful. Yeah, beautiful. Crap.

“Damn it,” I muttered again, running a hand through my hair as I stormed back to my room.

I flopped back onto the bed, but sleep wasn’t happening. Not now. My mind was stuck on her.

I turned over in bed, trying to block out the image of her in those damn pajamas. I couldn’t stand it. I tried to ignore it, but then my mind wandered back to the patrol.

She didn’t act scared during the day. Hell, she held her own better than most people, even when I could see she was annoyed too. And now, she was alone, dealing with her nightmares.

Suddenly, I knew what her dreams were about. She told me about her brother, Toya.

Of course, it’s about Toya. She wouldn’t shut up about that back when she told me her story. Dead brother, out-of-control quirk—it all comes back to that.

I wasn’t supposed to care.

But I did.

Shit. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I got up again, grabbed my shirt, and stomped over to her door. This time, I wasn’t just pissed—I was annoyed at myself for caring.

Y/N’s POV:

After shutting the door on Katsuki, I leaned back against it, staring into the darkness of my room. My thoughts were racing again. I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in so long. And now, knowing I’d kept Katsuki awake with my nightmares? I felt guilty.

At home, nightmares were nothing new to me. I had them constantly, ever since I was young. My brother Toya’s death, the way my family fell apart afterward, and the terrifying loss of control over my own quirk haunted me at night. Every time I thought I could escape it, the dreams would drag me right back into the fire.

Fuyumi had tried to help before. She would hear me at night and come into my room, sitting on the edge of my bed, asking if I wanted to talk about it. But I never did. I’d always shrug her off, insisting that I could handle it. She meant well, but no amount of talking was going to change what happened.

After a while, everyone at home just got used to it. My room was at the far end of the house, behind Toya’s old room, so my nightmares didn’t bother anyone as much. And if they did, they pretended not to hear. They minded their own business. That’s what the Todoroki family had always done—minded their own business.

I pulled out my laptop to keep myself awake, I turned on Gossip Girl, my new favorite way to escape from reality. The girls in Class 1-A had talked about it a lot, and Mina and I watched some episodes together. It made me feel like a normal teenage girl, away from the nightmares and the chaos of being a Todoroki.

I was about an hour into the show when I heard another knock. Katsuki. Again.

“Sorry, am I too loud again?” I opened the door, already apologizing. “I’ll turn it off, I just tried to keep—”

“Yourself awake so I can sleep,” Katsuki finished for me, pushing past me and walking into my room. “Really?” he said, looking at my laptop. “This is what you’re watching?”

I blinked, surprised that he had just walked in like it was no big deal. “It makes me feel normal,” I said, then immediately regretted saying it. Why did I say that?

He glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “You’re nothing but normal, Frostburn,” he said, laying down on my bed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I smirked. “What, you wanna join?”

He didn’t answer right away, just settled into my bed, placing the laptop on his stomach. “I can only sleep if something’s in the background,” he muttered.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Then why did you stop me from my nightmares earlier? You could’ve listened to that.”

Katsuki hesitated, looking away for a moment before replying. “You screamed. A lot. Loud enough to wake up half the building.”

I winced, embarrassed. “I’m… sorry.”

Katsuki shrugged, but I could tell he wasn’t used to dealing with this kind of thing either. He didn’t like people, and this situation was probably overwhelming for him too. But instead of going back to his room, he stayed.

“Come here, idiot,” he said, motioning for me to join him. “I can’t sleep without noise, and you can’t sleep in general. So if you don’t tell anyone, we’ll not sleep together.”

Katsuki’s POV:

I wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing. This wasn’t me. I didn’t do this whole “comforting people” crap. But she looked at me, and for a second, I saw it again—that vulnerability she tried to hide. And I couldn’t just walk away.

“Tch, what am I even doing,” I muttered under my breath as she slid into the bed next to me.

I didn’t say anything as she lay there next to me, explaining whatever the hell was going on with the show. Something about rich kids and drama I didn’t give a damn about. But for some reason, the sound of her voice, and the quiet hum of the laptop, was enough to pull me into sleep faster than I thought.

Before I knew it, I was out. Her soft voice, the low noise of the show—it was weirdly comforting. Something I wasn’t used to. But… I didn’t mind.

Y/N’s POV:

As I lay there, I smiled softly. Katsuki Bakugo, of all people, offering to stay and help. I slid into the bed next to him, making myself comfortable.

As I lay there, I started explaining the characters of Gossip Girl to him, though it wasn’t long before I noticed his breathing had slowed, his eyes fluttering closed. He didn’t “not sleep” for long.

Within minutes, he was out. Little snores escaped him, and I couldn’t help but smile. His black shirt with the skull on it and his messy, fluffy hair… he looked different like this. More… real.

Turning off the laptop, I put it away quietly. I tapped Katsuki a few times to make sure he was really asleep. When I was sure he was, I carefully leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes.

For the first time in a long time, I fell asleep without any nightmares. ______________ Amethyst. - Masterlist: click here ______________

[peachymilkandcream]

Fraud | Part 12 | Yandere All Might x Hero!Reader

(A/N: Rewatching the show and writing this at the same time has just solidified in me that my version of All Might is fucked beyond comprehension. But anyways- Hope you enjoy and comment to be added to the taglist!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, graphic depictions of violence, mind breaking, misogyny, power imbalance, age difference, cheating, forced orgasm, suicide, etc.

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All Might tried his best not to grimace at the bright fluorescent lights. He was used to hiding in the shadows and fighting crime during the day, sitting in a police station for questioning was not something he was particularly enjoying. There were so many more important things that he could be doing at this moment.

"Is there a problem sir?"

"Thank you for coming, please, take a seat."

There wasn't an answer to All Might's question, and he much more preferred to stand in situations like this, his height intimidated those in his way to cower in fear.

"No thank you, I'll just stand."

The man across from him sits anyway. "Now I'm sure you know it's no big secret that you decided to take on another sidekick, you made it rather public."

"That I did." He chose his words carefully, never once acknowledging his feelings towards Shade.

"Are you aware that your newest sidekick is currently missing?"

"I was aware, but I believed that perhaps she may have gotten intoxicated and lost, or her quirk allows her to do more than we thought and chose to disappear."

"We have-" He paused, thinking of how to phrase this. "Speculation, that she could have been taken."

"I see. Any leads as to who?"

"No, none. Which is why I asked you here, do you know if she had any enemies?"

All Might took a pause to think, trying to fabricate this whole story and clear him of suspicion entirely. Officers were tough, that could see through lies and use methods to get the suspect to reveal the truth.

"Now that you mention it, there was one."

The man perks up at once, straightening up and pulling out a notepad. "Please, continue."

"Shortly after Shade came to work for me she mentioned wanting to see a man, another pro, that she had met on our patrols."

"Who was he?"

"I'm not sure, but I could try and find out if you'd like."

"Yes that would be most helpful. But continue."

"Well, she had planned a day or so ago to meet up with him, and had confided in me she was doing so. However I advised against it, there was something about that man that seemed- sinister-"

"Sinister how?"

"As the Symbol of Peace, one gets acquainted with evil-doers. Ones of all sorts, and there was something about this man that made him feel just like one of those criminals in your jail cells."

"Is that so? And did she meet up with him?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think she had any other plans that night."

He seemed very pleased, a lead presented to him, all tied up in a bow. "And when approximately was the last time you saw Ms. Shade?"

"Well that would have been- five o'clock? I believe five, we were through with working for the day and I promised to see her the next day for her next day of work training."

"And that was the last time you saw or heard from her? No texts, phone calls, emails?"

"Nothing at all."

"I see, well thank you All Might for all of your helpful information. I'll get this off and we'll look at the next steps." He extended a hand to shake.

"Of course." All Might accepted it. "It was the least I could do. I hope you find her, it's hard to get good sidekicks these days." He laughs slightly, making the chief of police join in with him.

"You always know how to bring some positivity into a dark situation All Might."

"It's what I do best. Now feel free to let my other sidekick Sir Nighteye know if you need anything else, but my hero work doesn't stop if one person is missing. I have to get back out there!"

He rushes off, breathing a sigh of relief that hopefully he had past the test and was now above suspicion.

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Precious time had been spent working her way out of those restraints. Shade had made a shadow clone of herself to look around the penthouse for a key before determining All Might had taken the key with him. So she turned to picking the lock with bobby pins.

How much time had passed she didn't know, worry about him returning filling her. But who knew when the next chance would be for her to have time away from him to work at this? She had to take a risk now.

When each of them had finally clicked open she made sure to be as careful as possible when leaving that bed, fearing he had put some kind of alert device in the penthouse to go off should she move.

Shade tried to ignore the dripping in between her legs, she didn't have time to clean up now, but made a personal reminder to thoroughly cleanse herself of this man she used to call a hero. This fraud. The last thing she wanted was to end up pregnant by the man who had kidnapped her and done things to her without her consent.

The main door was locked, as were most of the windows. The front door was an absolute no, who knows who had been told of the situation, who would stop her and bring her back. No, it had to be one of the windows.

Shade marched over to one and tried to open it, but the lock held fast. Her arm was still broken, and she had to be careful how many shadow clones she made before she was at her limit and therefore trapped at the top of a skyscraper. She had to be smart about this.

Her lack of experience and training were showing now, most pros would know how to get out of a situation like this easily and here she was aimlessly hacking at a window lock with a butcher's knife. There was nothing else she could think of to do or use so she went with that she thought best. Eventually the lock had to give out, right?

She was hopeful, believing soon she'd be free of this mess. Get the police to DNA test the semen found in her body and put All Might in Tartarus prison for the rest of his life. Never to be free to fool and then harm another living soul ever again.

Or so she thought until the door opened.

Slowly Shade turned, knife still in hand, terror running through her as she looked up at her captor.

"Now I thought I told you to stay put."