#not on purpose just his quirk is fucky

[princess-of-the-corner]

I was looking for a different post and found my post on projecting chronic pain on the Todorokis.

And now I REALLY want some bodyswap shenanigans where it's like 'hey what the fuck why are you constantly in pain????'/ "Huh? Doesn't everyone feel like that???"/"NO?!?!?!"

[manybcdthings]

HUNTER CROSS — HEADCANONS

QUIRKS, HABITS AND MEMORIES

Hunter is a whistler. Mostly to himself but also when he's meandering around, hands behind his back like an old man. He whistles parts and sections of confederate songs. This one.

Doesn't fair too well in New York with how crowded everything is, so even a simple walk somewhere along the street turns into a confrontation with strangers.

Somehow within months of living in New York, he's managed to stumble upon an illegal gambling circuit at the back of some clubs and he's usually there playing poker with them on weekends.

Still remembers Spanish from the cursed vase because his brain is analytical and focused, so without him even realizing it, he is now bilingual.

Since the Benny Saint and Elliot dating rumor, Hunter has actually lost a few followers and is unaware he was even name-dropped in any articles. He's also unaware he's actually been locked out of his Instagram because of the influx of spam on his confederate flag posts.

He's had the same stolen iPhone for years and the screen is barely usable. He still gets texts from friends etc of the previous owner and he replies to them. Has a vague friendship with someone called Ron, despite Ron thinking he's keeping in touch with the previous owner.

The rings he wears are purely for punching purposes and are made from lightweight and light traces of silver so when he takes them off he has faint scars around his fingers. The constant discomfort from them doesn't bother him, they're in case they need to be used on another wolf.

Says that he's bad at math but isn't at all, but his math skills usually become noticed when dealing with money or if he's doing something that requires measurements etc he's always insanely accurate.

Something's fucky. It usually always is, even if he can't say what's fucky at the time.

Suffers from reoccurring nightmares about having three sets of twin boys with someone called Kat. Wakes up in cold sweats and doesn't speak for half a day after he has them.

When it's time to replace old clothes, he manages to find identical items to what he's replacing. Technically hasn't had a wardrobe refresh for decades.

Within moments of entering a space, he's already figured out the fastest and most efficient exit route. In the same token, within moments of speaking to someone, he's already calculated how they're standing and their position to said exit routes in case he needs to punch them and leave.

Weirdly, he's an attentive listener and his eyes are constantly scanning the other person's face. Probably looks like he's staring at their mouth a lot too, but this is also because he doesn't always understand what the fuck anyone is saying to him.

Even if his demeanor seems otherwise, if someone genuinely came to him for help (especially if it required a physical involvement) he will help them. Also generous with money and food, because of Elliot.

Has a picture of Brandy holding a baby Elliot in his wallet. The man in the photo has been ripped out.

Is good at anything that requires manual labor, so fixing things up or making new things is his hidden talent. Along with the useless hidden talent of card tricks and shuffling them.

He enjoys taking things apart just to put them back together again, would've loved lego sets as a kid if he knew what they were.

For some reason, Hunter is prone to just seamlessly joining groups of men but usually foreign men and speaks old-man silent language with them. He's made a bunch of weird friends this way, so always has someone he knows who can get something, do something or is helpful to a situation. Doesn't say more than 3 words to them when they arrive, though.

Refuses to Uber or get a cab anywhere in the city because he doesn't want to be in the bitch seat or the back. Also avoids the subway, but when he does use it, he usually gets in a fight.

[damienthepious]

AND AGAIN. RRGH. WHY DID I WAIT TO DO THESE.

The Beast In On His Chain (chapter 8)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ao3] [ch 9] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla, Sir Absolon

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, prisoner/guard dynamic, Dehumanization, (which feels like a weird word to use for a nonhuman person bUT. it’s what i got.), Despair, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (EVENTUALLY!!!! it’ll take a while), Captivity, Suicidal Thoughts, (that will be a theme throughout. inescapable in this particular fic. alas.), Eventual Romance, (Yes the dynamics in this one are fucked. honestly i’m kinda Stretching my limits these days.), (having fun with it. fucking around. it’s fine.), Recovery, (eventually), Self-Reclamation

Chapter Summary: Arum attempts to adjust to some changes in his environment.

Chapter Notes: good lord this shit is grim always. warnings for uhhh self destructive behavior, mild self-harm, continuing implications of starvation, vague implications of past torture, nightmares, and if i've missed anything please let me know! (and if you see me fuckign with the formatting after this is posted No You Didn't. if the italics are fucky hit refresh and hopefully i've fixed it already.)

~

Something is... different, the next time the new knight is on duty in the Trophy Room. Something is different, and that fact is made rather abundantly clear as the man pauses on his very first circuit around the room, planting his feet flat as he turns to face Arum, and then-

"Good morning," he says, his tone-

Arum doesn't know what his tone could possibly indicate, because he cannot focus on that in the least. He is too- stunned? Baffled. Alarmed, perhaps. How could he focus on tone?

(Good morning. Is it morning, then? He cannot keep track, down here. He can guess at the time, based on the knowledge that humans are primarily diurnal, and the assumption that their miserable little tours wouldn't happen during the middle of the night, but- is it morning? Are there crocuses and clover somewhere above his head, just now, dampened with morning dew before the sun burns it off into the pervasive humidity of the jungle? How early? Is the sun already high? Has it only just crested the horizon, painting the sky in pinks and fiery orange? Is it-)

(Distractions. Pointless to wonder about. The sun could be high in the sky, or it could have disappeared entirely, and it would make no difference to Arum. It does not matter. He won't see it either way.)

One corner of the knight's mouth twitches, quirks upward after a beat. A smile? A small one, if that. A smirk, perhaps. Is he- is he mocking Arum? Is that what this is?

Arum rounds his shoulders, ducking his head and showing a hint of teeth as the knight just... stands there, watching him. After a beat, the knight's expression tightens, something like discomfort crossing his face, and then he bites his lip.

"I don't... I do not wish to be cruel to you, I don't think," he says, very slowly, very quietly. "A terribly weak concession, I am aware."

His face goes wry, at that, and Arum takes a long moment to work through his words before he decides to scoff. He eyes the knight suspiciously, hoping that his ire shows enough on his face. He hopes the armor-clad irritant can see it when he thinks, I preferred you silent.

The knight sighs, reaching to rub awkwardly at his own cheek as he looks away for a moment. He does meet Arum's eyes again, though.

"I am Sir Damien," he says, placing his hand upon his own chest, as if he might bow. He doesn't, but the idea lingers in Arum's mind.

... why is he telling Arum this?

What purpose could this serve? What tactical end- what does he want from Arum? It must be something. He had thought that the Citadel had long since wrung out every active use they had for him, or had at least realized that he could not be persuaded to part with information on his swamp, his home, no matter their tactics. Are they trying again? Trying something either very stupid or very subtle? Or-

Or is this Sir Damien acting of his own intent, for his own strange purposes?

"That's all," the knight says, drawing Arum's attention back from his inner unwinding worry. "I do not wish to... continue my habit of causing you annoyance, or... of worsening your captivity."

And then he nods, and gives that same small, uncertain smile. And then he turns his body away from Arum. And then he resumes his patrol, as if nothing at all unusual has happened in the last few minutes. As if he has not just flipped part of Arum's brain upside-down.

Arum watches him go, that familiar measured gait carrying the knight in his circle until he crosses in front of Arum's plinth again after a few minutes have passed.

He twitches that smile, when he sees that Arum is watching him still, and he gives Arum a small, subtle nod.

Acknowledging him.

Or- no. Still mocking, likely. For whatever reason. Mocking him, pointing out the ridiculousness of the idea of a knight greeting a monster, the ridiculousness of anyone treating Arum like- like anything other than what he is.

He growls, the next time Damien passes in front of him, and then he curls up tight and proceeds to ignore the creature for the rest of his shift.

He pretends not to hear it, when Sir Damien gives him a murmured good evening, until tomorrow, at the end of the day.

~

He does the same again the next day. Beginning with a good morning and ending with good evening, until tomorrow. Arum ignores him more thoroughly.

~

"It's helping. I know it doesn't feel like it is. But just- imagine being where he is, and someone treats you with basic courtesy. It matters, Damien. If nothing else, that matters."

~

Whether or not Arum ignores him does not seem to matter to the knight. He gives up putting any effort into it after the fourth day. He doesn't pay Damien much attention, but he doesn't play dead, either. He tries-

He sighs, when Damien passes, and returns the nod the human seems bound and determined to give him with each circuit, and Damien's face stills with something like surprise before the tight uncertain smile on his face blooms into something softer, more earnest.

Arum tucks his snout down against his arms, then, pretending that he does not notice when Damien's steps come lighter.

~

"Tomorrow will be my leave day," Damien says near the end of his shift the next day. "I won't be in."

Arum blinks at the knight for a long moment before he understands the intent of his words. He feels something in his ribcage shift oddly, then, and some of his confusion must show on his face, because Damien clarifies.

"Only for a couple days, and then I will be back. I'm not- this isn't my usual assignment," he explains, "but a temporary placement while I... recover from an injury. But that will still be a few weeks at least, yet. Though," he gives a short little laugh, "I suppose you'll be relieved, when that time is up, hm?"

Arum swallows, looking decidedly away from the knight and then decidedly away from the Janus beast when it tries to catch his eye.

"Er- that isn't... I only wanted to let you know. So you wouldn't have to wonder. Certainly, no one else would bother to explain."

There is a hint, just a whisper, of sourness in his tone, then, and Arum does not know what to make of that, either.

After a long moment, the knight watching him and apparently waiting, Arum rolls his eyes and gives a short, irritable little nod. Acknowledged. Go away. Damien smiles again. Arum looks away from him.

"I suppose I shall see you in a few days, then," he says.

And I shall have some peace and quiet in the meantime, Arum thinks, already closing his eyes.

~

Maddening. The hours drag. What is this? Has the Citadel devised newer, more clever insinuated tortures? He wants to throw things at the other knights. He wants to scream at them to look at him. He is here. He is alive. He will be seen or he will break things.

(Another forgotten feeling roaring back. Like the more general fury. Like the grief of the Keep's lullaby. Arum had never been anything that could be described as social, but even he- even he had begun to feel like a ghost, with no other creature to acknowledge him as a thinking being. The reminder, the jolting revival of the feeling from two different humans in so short a time-)

(He bites his tongue bloody to keep from shouting. It would not be worth the consequences in any direction.)

He cannot keep track of the hours like this. The other knights are utterly interchangeable; he loses any grip on the time. He convinces himself at least twice that it must have been more than the two days Sir Damien suggested since last he came.

He daydreams through the idea of Amaryllis paying him another visit.

Somehow, this makes everything seem worse. He can remember, shakily, some of her sketches, but he can't-

He cannot imagine anything new, anything he hadn't actually seen. The pages stay blurred and blank in his mind. Losing even that- being so blisteringly desperate, so hungry for more of what she offered-

He feels pathetic. He feels like an idiot. She won't be back again. He's a fool for thinking anything else. Hope is the precursor to pain, here. He should know better.

It wants another smile, the Janus beast hisses. It will whine and beg for table scraps before it is finished.

Pathetic, Arum thinks again. He closes his eyes, and pretends not to hear anything else.

~

Arum jolts awake to Sir Damien's voice, startled out of a shallow, restless sleep and into a snarl.

Damien winces as Arum's eyes focus on him, and the knight takes an awkward step back.

"Ah- my apologies. I thought- I thought you were only pretending, again. I did not think I would wake you."

Arum pants, gathers himself, and then shoots Damien a look. He intends for it to be admonishing, but- he cannot quite tell what his face is doing. He's... disoriented. He does not know why the primary feeling rolling around behind his ribcage feels almost like relief.

He shakes his head after a moment, hoping for it to be taken as a dismissal, and Damien nods. "Right. Well. Er- good morning again, then. Properly, I mean. I apologize again, for surprising you."

Arum scoffs, flicking a hand towards the knight.

(When was the last time someone apologized to him? Ah- Amaryllis. Right. Strange humans crawling out of the shoddy masonry, these days.)

He doesn't realize that he's made a noise at the back of his throat, a vague humming, until he feels the tickle of the collar threatening at the edges of his perception. That, and the way Sir Damien blinks at him again.

The knight, at least, is polite enough not to draw attention to it, and he nods before he goes to his usual patrol. The threat of the silencing magic fades as well, after a few moments, and Arum... slowly relaxes his hackles.

Nothing unusual, truly. His noisiest guard returned. The rhythm of his footsteps is almost soothing.

It doesn't mean anything deeper than that.

~

Arum remembers that he did not dream much, before his captivity.

He thinks, perhaps, that the prevalence of dreams now likely has something to do with the fact that he does not have much else to do besides sleep. Sleeping and thinking, and apparently thinking while sleeping. Which is unfortunate, so far as Arum is concerned, because sleep should be his only escape from this place, an oblivion without thought where he need not consider and reconsider his failures over and over again.

The nightmares disagree.

Often, they begin innocuous, or even pleasant. Usually, they pull from his time before. Even if they do not turn to anything darker, waking to this reality after that can be enough to pain him. Sometimes, however-

Cradled in the Keep, safe and warm and home, song in his ears and on his tongue. Everything green, around him. Everything green and growing and gleaming with fresh rain, until-

He can feel the rot within his own body before he sees sign of it in his Keep, before he feels the vines around him weaken and wither, before he sees the humans slashing and pruning and culling and burning, before he feels the weight of the collar, the shackles. Before he-

Wakes, gasping for the Keep, pleading and confused and-

Throat burning. Didn't catch himself quickly enough on waking. He isn't even sure what he said. The Keep's name, he thinks. Not that it matters.

"Are you- are-"

Arum presses his eyes closed, still breathing raggedly, displeased at having woken in the presence of the noisy knight twice in a row, irritated with himself for having fallen asleep in Damien's presence again.

"Oh," Damien says. "You... a nightmare?"

Arum squints one eye open to glare, baleful as he can manage, but Damien does not balk this time. He swallows, bites his lip, and then-

He glances over his shoulder towards the door, and then takes a step closer.

"I cannot imagine what dreams could be worse than this place as it truly is," the knight murmurs, his eyes downcast. "But I do not envy you them."

Inane. Why would anyone envy anyone else their nightmares? Ridiculous little idiot.

Damien reaches the edge of the white-painted stones on the floor, and then he glances behind him again, as if expecting to be reprimanded. As if someone else might barge in and see him... speaking with Arum, perhaps. Deviating from his patrol, at the least.

Damien inhales, exhales, and then he reaches to his side, pulling up a leather flask. He glances towards the door one more time for good measure, and then he meets Arum's eyes.

"... here," he says, and then he steps across the line, lifting his hand out just far enough, just barely far enough to offer the flask.

Arum stares, waiting for the knight to remember himself. Or, perhaps, waiting to realize that this is yet another dream.

After a moment, Damien tips the flask a little in his hand, leaning fractionally closer, and Arum can hear the water slosh against itself inside the leather, perhaps even more tempting than Amaryllis' journal. He reaches out almost without meaning to, the tips of his claws just barely catching, and Damien pushes it the last little bit forward into his grasp before the knight drops his arm, safely out of Arum's reach again.

The scent of the leather alone, this close, is nearly enough to break him. Just the act of holding something new, a different texture against his scales. His breathing comes ragged as he opens the flask, the sharp cool scent of the water (well water, he thinks, he can scent a hint of deep stone) catching in his snout, and he shivers.

Damien watches him.

And-

(Why?)

It... it has to be a trick. Doesn't it? A trick. A trap.

(Or-)

(Oh. Worse.)

Or, perhaps, it is simply that Arum is so pathetic that this creature has decided to pity him.

This is more cruel than not offering at all, isn't it? If Arum takes a single sip- and then what? Then to return to an eternity of never tasting anything on his tongue again besides dust, besides his own blood? A cruelty of offering anything, a cruelty of false hope, of pretending that this is something Arum is allowed-

He tightens his grip, his breathing gone even more shallow. He is... he is so, so thirsty. He has not been offered water since-

Since they realized that he could endure without.

"It's alright," Damien says in a murmur, and the rage flares hot and fierce and prideful in Arum's guts.

Whatever they have made him- whatever he has sunk to-

(He can control this. He is not without choice. He is not an animal.)

(will whine and beg for table scraps before-)

(He is not an animal.)

His claws are too brittle and dull to do any damage to the leather of the flask. Arum chooses instead to throw the thing with as much force as he can muster (as little as that is) to Sir Damien's feet, weakly splattering his boots.

And his throat already burns, he almost relishes the way the pain spikes when he spits, "I do not- need- your pity."

He would say more, his pride hissing and spitting, if not for the feeling of lancing thorns in his throat. As it is, he snarls and glares as the knight stumbles a half step back, staring up at him with wide, startled eyes.

"But-" the knight hesitates, winces. His shoulders sink slowly, like a wilting plant. He bows his head, the motion sliding into a half-crouch as he retrieves his flask, wiping the mouth off with a sleeve before he seals it and tucks it back against his side. "Very well," he says, muted and almost sighing. He turns away, then, without another look.

Arum curls up as best he is able, ducking his head between his hands, beneath his arms, scenting the water on the air as it dries, wanting and wanting and wanting until he feels dizzy and sick with it, deep in his brittle, awful bones.

Damien wishes him a good evening, regardless, when the times comes. Until tomorrow.

Arum pretends not to hear.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

There's one fic idea playing on my mind and has for a while: KHR/BNHA Crossover.

Izuku is Quirkless because all Sky Flame users are Quirkless and Izuku has Sky Flames. Izuku doesn't know this though, and not all Quirkless have Sky Flames. Like 5% of the Quirkless population have Sky Flames.

Izuku is watched by the Flame Mafia who has mostly kept the secret of Flames a secret. Especially after Sawada Tsuna did manage to rip Vongola from the underworld and made it into a vigilante group.

So like KHR happened years ago- around the time Quirks first started happening because Quirks only appeared once the Acrobaleno curse was fixed. Because the fact the world needed flames but the system was broken was the reason Quirk came out of nowhere. It should have happened much more slowly but it actually should have happened years before so evolution just tried to catch up fast.

However, the Flames are still a thing for the underworld and those who activate them are dragged kicking and screaming into the mafia or locked up by the Vindice.

Que the new Acrobaleno Sky. Because while the system is fixed, it still needs three groups to hold it, and every two hundred years it needs a sacrifice.

Because I can, the Acrobaleno from KHR- Reborn, Skull, Colonello, Verde, Viper, Fon, Lal- they're all around because something fucky happened with the cure/handover and now they're like the Vindice in they are kind of immortal but not. However, thanks to the Sky being weird, the Sky has changed.

It's new holder is someone who had been dying of cancer. Being the Acrobaleno Sky gives her twenty extra years. And this one decides that she wants to stop dragging those who activate their flames into the mafia. So she manages to strike a deal.

If she can get someone with Flames to be a hero and get a license before she dies, then the mafia will stop dragging them in. She's back by a lot of people.

Part of the deal as well if she picks a Sky that she can then keep the ones who activate their flames and bond to her choice out to.

So she hunts for a Sky on purpose. And who does she find ten years until her death date?

Midoriya Izuku.

She approaches him, explains the truth about it and gets caught on camera explaining because drama and the Vindice decide to make things hard for her- now everyone knows the deal. Meaning the underground tries to sabotage them, the heroes try to help and it's a mess.

Luckily she has the World's Greatests on her side. And Izuku slowly builds his circle.

Thoughts more:

-I would use the Home Sky/War Sky stuff in the KHR fandom but mess with it a bit.

-Bakugou has a nasty bond with Izuku they snap cause it's unhealthy.

-Izuku kinda gets famous and like he's not very happy about it.

-AFO may or may not be a Sawada, haven't decided.

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 21

The portal stole their breath from them, chewing them up and spitting them out in a dark, red cavern. Tommy was up to his shins in some kind of tarlike fluid, but he was less put off by the wetness in his socks than he was by how warm it was. Pocked stalagmites reached up from the floor like long, spindly fingers and the air was thick with a humidity that made it hard to breathe. Firelight flickered overhead. It was unexpectedly quiet, save for the lapping of water around their legs as the team assembled raggedly and gained their bearings.

“Oh my gosh, this place is huge,” Gordon breathed.

The unnerving qualities of this womblike place were second to the great, crouching thing that watched them from the center of the chamber. Benrey’s arms were tucked in at odd angles, and his form rose up from the murk like a tumor. From where his wide, pallid face was resting, Tommy could see that dark fluid sloshing into the corner of his mouth.

Gordon sounded as unsettled as Tommy felt when he asked, quietly, “Is he dead?”

Sure, dead like a possum. Benrey’s eyes may have been unfocused and glassy, but Tommy wouldn’t believe for a second the creature was deceased until he personally watched his final breath leave him.

As if sensing Tommy’s thoughts, the entity’s gaze lasered in on Gordon when he took a tentative step in his direction. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Gordon responded automatically, halting in his tracks.

“I knew this was gonna happen.”

Benrey’s voice echoed off the sides of the cavern and rippled the water around their calves. Firelight flickered hot and yellow off his tractor tire irises, and Tommy had to look away.

Gordon had a bit more resolve in him, keeping nervous watch on the entity. “What?” he asked. “What do you mean you knew this was gonna happen?”

“I’m telling you - look, I’m... I like everything, I'm a great cool...” Benrey trailed off.

Tommy watched a confused glance pass between Gordon and Coomer while the entity went on.

“I feel a good, but you make me angry. Rememb-”

“Why,” Gordon interrupted, frustration edging his voice. “Because I don’t have my fucking passport? Is that what this-”

Benrey cut him off abruptly with a flash of his serrated teeth. “No. You remember? The first time we met... you wa- you walk in- I’m on my shift, and you come in, and you got a dick slip in your... in your HEV suit.”

There was a fraction of pause, an iota of processing during which the gears spun in everyone’s heads, until Tommy saw Bubby mouth the words, dick slip? and suddenly he was forced to hold in a riot of shocked laughter.

Gordon threw a glance over his shoulder at the others, astonished light dancing in his eyes. When he turned back and demanded, “What?” Tommy heard humor in his voice.

“And I tried - I tried to stop you. I tried to tell you. I was stopping you - I was going, ‘hey, yo dick out,’ but you didn’t-” he broke off, giant forehead wrinkling in consternation. “I was tryna be nice, and then you were talkin’ to my friend, J- Jefferem, and you’re telling him like, ‘Aw, I don’t have my passport…’”

As Benrey spilled more nonsense out of his mouth, Gordon turned, one hand propped on his waist, to give a “you’re hearing this, right?” look to his teammates. Dr. Coomer exhaled loudly out of his nose, shaking his head as he took this time to reload his weapon. Gordon looked to Tommy, the corners of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly and brows raised like a child asking for a dare.

The entity continued to rumble the cavern as he spoke. “And... he was so upset - he has anger issues - I was gonna protect you from him, we were - I was gonna be nice to you. Remember that?”

“Yeah,” Gordon answered, “and then you contradicted yourself almost immediately. I didn’t say shit to you, you immediately started attacking me, and you just harassed me-”

“No, that’s just my job!” Benrey huffed, eyes rolling in Gordon’s direction.

“To do what?” he demanded. “What is your job? What is this - where the fuck are we?”

Tommy was about to tell Gordon that prying answers out of the entity would be ultimately fruitless, even in possession of a crowbar, but he stopped short when he saw that the man was… smiling. Grinning outright, like he had just told a bad pun and was waiting for everyone to tell him to fuck off. This conversation was on purpose, Tommy realized, prodding Benrey to keep talking -  not to make sense of his story, but purely because its utter ridiculousness brought Gordon glee. He fought down a giggle and watched the exchange unfold.

“I - I mean,” Benrey went on, “if there’s a dick - if, y’know, someone’s dick out on the job, I gotta stop ‘em.”

“What are you on about? What?”

“But like... you don’t remember?”

“My dick has not been out all day.”

“No, no! Like... the first time we met.”

“Yeah, in fucki- before the test?”

“What test?”

Gordon exchanged a glance with his companions. “What does this have to - I don’t understand. I-”

“ Listen, ” Benrey said, and launched into an argument that Tommy could barely parse.

Deadly serious, the entity droned on about PlayStation 3, a game called Heavenly Sword, and the embarrassment of asking his coworkers for some kind of exclusive gaming membership. It was nonsensical, difficult to track, and Gordon was loving every second of it. Nearby, Coomer and Bubby were keeping a wary eye on their adversary, weapons in hand, but they were chuckling to themselves, as well.

Somehow this gigantic, horrifying creature was digging himself into a hole with every word, reducing little by little to just… an annoying guy with bad video game opinions. Benrey could immolate them on the spot, stretch out a massive hand and crush them like insects, and instead he was arguing with Gordon about the likelihood of a dick slip in the armored casing of a hazard suit. All Gordon had to do was keep him talking. Tommy felt a flood of admiration as he watched the guy ham it up with that shit eating grin on his face.

“How does that have to do with fucking anything?” he asked, punctuating every word with a gesture of his hand.

Benrey fell suddenly silent, pupils dilating like a cat out to hunt. “My friends are here,” he uttered quietly.

Gordon cut his eyes around the cavern, searching for signs of movement. “What friends?” he asked. “What is he talking about?”

Benrey’s volume rose in agitation, shaking the chamber and raining bits of gravel on their heads. “Sony CEO Jack Tretton survived a nuclear- a nuclear bomb!”

“What?” Gordon barked, taking a startled step back. “What? Should we…?” he looked to the others. “Should w-”

“Sony CEO Jack Tretton hired Nintendo CEO Reggie and they built a big bomb that was gonna go off... but I saved the world!” Benrey bellowed.

Tommy was convinced at this point that, if Benrey was ever occupying the same plane of reality the rest of them were in, he was no longer a part of it. His form began to shift and stretch, shoulders rolling and neck straining as he began to rise out of his false rigor mortis.

Though a touch of laughter remained in Gordon’s voice, he was beginning to sound alarmed. “Should we stop him?” he asked. “Should we just start shooting at him? Cause I d- it’s not gonna do-”

“No, no!” Tommy interrupted sarcastically. “Let hi - le- let him finish. We need to understand.”

Coomer let out a harsh chortle as he racked a round. “It would be rude to interrupt,” he agreed.

As Benrey continued to rise from the murk, a thin, skittering sound could be heard from the walls of the chamber. “So I didn’t - I didn’t have a big plan. I was ‘sposed to be nice, but you forced me to be baaad so I’m gonna be baaad, friend.”

Judging by the way Gordon’s eyes were skimming the area, he heard the noise, too, but laughter was still shaking his words. “How did I force you to… how did I force-?”

Benrey angled his chin toward Gordon, unimpressed with his mirth. “The big plot is slowly unraveling before our eyes,” he intoned. “Look at this.”

“Look at what?” Gordon demanded.

A horrible sound wrenched through the cavern, a sonic bass that Tommy felt deep within his chest cavity and shook the very room they stood in. The scratching grew louder and he caught flickering glimpses of skeletal hands in his periphery, reaching from the burrows that honeycombed the walls. He braced himself and raised the stock of his rifle to his shoulder.

“I don’t know what he’s saying anymore,” Gordon said, “I-”

There was a sickening rip-tear and a subsequent wave of red water rolling in their direction as Benrey hauled himself all at once to a standing position. He stared cooly down at the four of them, murderous intent clear on his face even at this distance. Fluid trickled down his form in red lines like blood. Tommy readjusted his aim.

Gordon took a couple frantic steps back, water sloshing around his legs. “What’s happening. What is happening?” he asked. “What is happening to him?”

“I can feel a change in his DNA,” Coomer answered thinly, right before Benrey became a nightmare.

His form unspooled like a helix torn in half. Flesh and bone separated, sinews snapping apart as whatever it was that made this thing Benrey released itself. The creature fanned wide, covering the space with limbs that shouldn’t function, eyes that shouldn’t be able to see, serrated and hungry. All this time it made a terrible noise, war made sound, shaking the cavern in its horror.

This wasn’t a joke anymore.

Several things happened at once. Skeletons poured from the walls, clawing and scraping toward them in a rattling wave. Gunfire exploded around Tommy as his teammates began firing - at Benrey, at the undead, at anything that moved to stave off the onslaught. The entity roared his frame-shaking bellow, and through the whirlwind of movement and all the terrible noise, the Science Team was scattered like dandelion seeds caught in a lawnmower.

Reality blurred for Tommy after that, boiling down in his brain to the pull of his trigger finger and his own heartbeat in his ears and Gordon, somewhere, frantically calling his name. Hearing it almost hurt worse than the psychic waves crashing over his body while the skeletons pursued him. He swung the stock of his rifle and shattered a stray skull as he ran.

Where did he run to? Where else was there to go but into oblivion? Panic rose in his throat as he fired off rounds and dodged the reaching fingers of the thing that once was Benrey. Distantly, he heard calls from his teammates, and then a hand locked around his wrist and he was being yanked into a portal.

Atoms scrambled, heart hammering in his throat, Tommy landed on the other side with his ears ringing, stumbling and tearing his palms open on the gravelled ground. For a second, all he could focus on was the steady beads of blood rising to the surface of his skin, hypnotic and scarlet in their mortality. But then a strong pair of hands were under his arms and Dr. Coomer hauled Tommy back to his feet. A heavy slap on the back knocked him back to reality.

Gordon, after checking that they had all made it through, swept the room with a cautious gaze as he rallied his nerves. “Are we safe?” he asked. “What is this?”

Did it matter where they were? Somewhere else in the monstrous structure that was Xen. A vesicle, an artery, the porous space inside a network of bronchioles. All Tommy could think about was how heavy his arms felt as he carried his gun. A pool of unidentifiable fluid lapped nearby, its depth unguessable.

“What the fuck is the plan?” Gordon asked them. “What do we do?” he passed a glance between Bubby and Coomer, who could only offer a collective shrug. His voice was on the verge of breaking as he went on. “I don’t know. I’m scared as shit.”

Bubby worked his jaw contemplatively. “I’m… confused,” he admitted, quiet in a humility Tommy rarely saw from him.

Dr. Coomer nodded in agreement. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, Gordon.”

Gordon turned his gaze to Tommy, who slowly shook his head. Stay alive. That was the plan right now for him. He wiped his bleeding hands off on his lab coat and said nothing.

“Okay… We know that he likes PS3… and that my dick-” he broke off to drag a hand down his face in frustration. “What the fuck? ”

“And he and his friend just got a - uh, month of PSN,” Tommy added.

“And Heavenly Sword,” Coomer agreed.

“Okay,” Gordon uttered automatically, backtracking with his brow furrowed. “I don’t kn - I’ve never played that game. Is there anything he said that’s gonna help us kill him? How do we kill this fuckin-”

“Well, he said it’s not a ripoff of God of War,” Dr. Coomer added, unhelpfully.

This somehow drew the entity’s ire, his terrible voice thundering through the chamber, source unknown. “It’s not a ripoff.”

Suddenly the walls were crawling with skeletons again and the once quiet room exploded with gunfire. As Tommy spun and popped off rounds, he distantly heard Bubby cry, “Into the water!”

His mouth was halfway open to bark wait waitwaitwaitgunsdon’tworkinwater - when there was a splash and his companions disappeared below the surface. Tommy spat out a curse and followed them.

Muffled silence pressed into his ears as he slipped into the depths. Tommy blinked against the gloom, darting his eyes around as he tread water with his rifle in one hand. There was Gordon, a furious figure filling hollow skulls with gunshot wounds. Bubby and Coomer backed him up, honing in on something dark and swirling beneath their feet. This shouldn’t be possible, shouldn’t be working in this way; physics were definitely, definitely busted here. A skeletal hand clutching at Tommy’s pant leg tore him from his thoughts and he twisted to kick it away.

Well. When in Xen. He bicycled his legs to stay afloat and started firing.

An explosion of something deep beneath them sent the water boiling, forcing the team to haul themselves to dry land while the skeletons perished around them. Tommy spluttered and coughed at the lip of the pool, limp and unresisting as someone hauled him out. Unsteadily, he found his footing as his lungs expelled water. He wiped his eyes clear of the brackish fluid and blinked them open, gaze finally focusing in on Gordon. He stood before Tommy with a steadying hand on either shoulder, space between his eyebrows creased with concern while rivulets of water ran off of him.

Tommy let out a quiet sigh and gave him a weak nod. I’m okay.

Gordon released him as soon as he was sure he could stand on his own. “Tommy, was that your passport?” he asked, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“That was Tommy’s passport,” Bubby confirmed.

Tommy paused, brow furrowed, trying to recall ever seeing anything passport shaped in the murk. Water dripped and puddled around his shoes. “...No,” he said. How would that even make sense? A passport the size of a flatscreen, spinning in some alien pool, detonating upon impact? Seemed impossible, but so did a lot of other shit in this place.

Gordon’s eyes were alight, like he was on the edge of some conclusion. “That was your passport,” he insisted. “Is it in- it’s not in your pockets. Check your pockets. What’s going on?”

A span of silence stretched as Tommy wrestled with his exhausted brain for context. Maybe this was another physics thing, a side effect of existing on Xen. He scrubbed the side of his jaw with his fingertips in exasperation as he worked over his thoughts.

“He’s checking his pockets,” Gordon explained to the group, humor touching his voice. “He does it with his brain. With his mind.”

That was enough to surprise a light laugh out of Tommy, and when he met Gordon’s eyes, he saw that he was giving Tommy a weary smile of his own. Making jokes even now, even here, just for him. It was a balm to Tommy’s troubled soul.

“Tommy,” he prompted.

Okay, he’d humor him. Tommy slung his rifle over his shoulder and began patting the pockets of his slacks. “That was - ah- that- that wasn’t-” Hmm. Wallet, phone, keys. He checked the waterlogged pockets of his lab coat, too - old receipt, rubber band, gum wrapper - and came up empty. “Yeah, my passport’s missing,” he sighed.

“Okay!” Gordon exclaimed. “Okay, so he took our passports. And that's gotta be-”

“One by one,” Benrey interjected, disembodied voice shivering through the room.

“Oh, fuck,” Gordon hissed, freezing to check for more incoming denizens. When no threat immediately arrived, he continued hurriedly. “There’s gotta be some kinda energy field around it, and the skeletons…” he trailed off, raking his hand through his hair. “I don’t understand this. I don’t get it. But we gotta blow up the rest of those passports. We gotta put an end to this bullshit.”

He dropped his hand and looked to his team. Gordon had suspended his disbelief for the sake of taking down their enemy and was asking the others to, as well. Tommy fingered the rifle strap over his shoulder as he thought it over.

The way Gordon laid it out, this sounded vaguely like some video game thing. Benrey had pulled from Earth again to create an off-brand horcrux out of their passports, for what, spite? To fuck with Gordon? Tommy could hardly parse his motives, why he would set up an elaborate stunt like this when he could just outright kill them. What was he waiting for?

Tommy realized belatedly that three pairs of eyes were fixed on him, expectant. He sighed heavily through his nose and nodded. Okay. It was hope. The tiniest, slimmest claw of it, but it was hope. He’d try it. If Gordon was reaching for it, by god, he’d try it.

---

The subsequent three hours of Tommy’s life were some of the hardest he had to endure, and he’d lived through some pretty shitty ones in the past week. The Science Team hurried through Xen, weapons in hand, dodging skeletons and shockwaves of noise and the horrible flailing limbs of the thing that was Benrey as they sought out the other passports. All of it swirled together in a cacophony of gunshots and white noise, but Tommy knew there were things he’d see on the backs of his eyelids at night after this.

Bubby’s failed prototypes, crawling and lockjawed. Colored lines of psychic barriers, trapping him in place and squeezing the air out of him. And the skeletons. The skeletons were possibly the worst thing, because Tommy realized he recognized some of them. Nametags clipped to half-shredded uniforms told him that these were the people Benrey had killed in Black Mesa, and now they were conscripted to pursue Tommy and his friends through this nightmare. Looking at them made him sick. Shooting them made him sicker.

They eliminated Bubby’s passport. Then Coomer’s. Benrey attempted to flaunt his, and they took that one out, too. They fell back and regrouped, shaky and warweary with the blood roaring in their ears. How all four of them were still alive was a miracle. Water sloshed around their legs, thick and red.

“Gordon,” Coomer panted as they retreated from Benrey’s looming form. “We’ve got all the passports, but… You - you never had yours with you, did you?”

“No,” he ground out through gritted teeth. His legs were shaking with the effort it was taking him to stand. “It’s in the locker.”

“Bad little boy,” Benrey rumbled from across the room. The skeletons that had loped around him like a pack of wolves were gone, but he still cut a menacing image in his oversized state.

Gordon’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “He’s just waiting to kill us,” he huffed. “He’s just playing with us now. There’s no more portals.”

“No,” Bubby said suddenly.

Tommy, Coomer, and Gordon cast him curious glances.

His eyes glittered, defiant and steely, behind his glasses as he set his jaw. “I don’t accept this death,” he said with resolve. “I have a plan.”

Tommy caught on immediately. It would be putting Gordon at a huge risk, but it was likely the only chance they had. He turned to Gordon, already hating himself for the suggestion on his lips.

“Do you think you can still get your passport if you go back?”

Gordon cut his eyes over to him. “How can we go back, Tommy?”

We, he said. We, not I. Tommy dropped his gaze, unable to look at Gordon. He wanted nothing more than to follow him back to where this all started, to stand at his side and fix this mess together. The thought of sending him through alone felt like tearing out one of his own organs. He swallowed thickly and didn’t answer him. Tommy was needed here. He would stay here.

Bubby was already unholstering the weapon he’d kept stashed since they departed from Darnold’s lab. It hummed as he powered it up. “We can go back,” he said, with confidence.

“Portal gun,” Coomer exclaimed.

Gordon blinked. “So that’s what th-”

“Everyone,” Bubby cut him off. “I need space.”

Tommy and Dr. Coomer exchanged a glance before retreating to a safe distance behind Bubby. Coomer raised his rifle and locked the sight on Benrey in a warning. The entity stayed put, tracking them with his big yellow eyes.

“This’ll be a little trippy,” Bubby warned. “It’ll be a little fucked up. But we’re going to have to take you back to the past.”

“Send me back, Bubby,” Gordon said, bracing himself.

Coomer didn’t take his eye away from the scope as he offered a final, “Godspeed, Gordon.”

“Alright, one last warp,” he sighed. He tossed a disdainful look over his shoulder at the entity. “Later, Benrey,” he growled.

“Peace,” Benrey sneered at a distance, grinning like a wolf.

Tommy raised his rifle to provide suppressing fire with Coomer while Bubby pulled the trigger. There was a discordant snap to his reality that left his ears ringing as a flashfire of green billowed out. He flicked a final look at Gordon, met his eyes just before he blinked out.

The man smiled, determined and lovely, as he disappeared.

Chapter 20 <-----> Chapter 22

[sero-pairo]

this is the last time (it never is)

by hcjulie

It’s nothing like the movies, nothing like the songs — they said that it’d be easy but they were fucking wrong. Mutually assured consumption, destruction, or perhaps it even became an unholy deification along the way — it was all relative.

  All so he could take advantage of his little green faerie boy and become the home that held every fragile piece of him — his last promise to the only maternal figure he’s ever known.

    OR: The toxic, quirkless bkdk au where izuku has had ten whole years to learn how to live with the illness of loving katsuki. His rebel saint, his fire, his only god — the beginning to his devastating end.

Words: 25281, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Wave Your Red Flags (Bet You Do It On Purpose)

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

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage

Categories: M/M

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Mitsuki, Bakugou Masaru, Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko, Sero Hanta, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Family (My Hero Academia), Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu, Monoma Neito, Hakamata Tsunagu | Best Jeanist

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki & Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki & Sero Hanta, Sero Hanta/Todoroki Shouto

Additional Tags: Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Quirkless Bakugou Katsuki, Toxic Relationship, Top Bakugou Katsuki, Bottom Midoriya Izuku, They're both messes, From the Moment They Met, This was Doomed, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Midoriya Izuku is Bad at Feelings, Wave Them Red Flags, they need so much therapy, Modern AU, Pay Attention to the Fucking Tags, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Recreational Drug Use, there's so much miscommunication, Yes someone dies, That Tag Is There For A Reason, Izuku is Ruined, By None Other Than Katsuki, Hanta Sero Is A Little Shithead, Oh They're All Rich BTW, Rich Bitch Problems, Anyways There's Smut, Angst, No Fluff, Just Nasty Fuckies and Tears, Not One Ounce of Comfort, Hope You All Cry I Guess

from AO3 works tagged 'Sero Hanta/Todoroki Shouto', https://ift.tt/AVf3dMC

[leinbow]

Would you say this arc has been weak overall for BNHA? Everything seems kinda pointless to set up such a great hero only for him to be "shot down". Also neglecting several characters that were just introduced this arc.

Hello!!

I’m personally enjoying the arc so far tbh. But I can understand if others don’t. Hori has shifted his storytelling in this arc so it may have turned off a lot of readers who were already used to his usual style. Maybe he’s experimenting? idk

What changed in Hori’s style you may ask?

Slower pace overall, in terms of action

That…omniscient narrator (hit or miss, reminds most people of the narrator in HxH)

Going back and forth in the timeline is so fucky (it honestly confuses the hell outta me)

I think this is the longest arc we have so far

Anyway, as for the story itself, this arc is so long a lot of things happened it’s overwhelming. It may also be a reason why it’s harder to digest the stuff that’s happening. I had hoped there would be a break between meeting Overhaul and going after him (like, the story could shift back to school stuff for a few chapters before they pursue their plan to raid the Yakuza, for example) but Hori knows no breaks. lul

Introducing the Big 3 serves as a metric or a glimpse in what Deku can achieve in 2 years. I think it is important to make that distinction because in the end, this story is about Deku. Everything we’ve been reading relates to how Midoriya Izuku becomes the greatest Hero. Since we’ve been shown the highest power ceiling Izuku can feasibly achieve (All Might), it’s time to show a realistic expectation for Izuku’s power level in a few years (Mirio, a 3rd year student) as a sense of progression.

Now, the fact that Mirio is also presented as the original candidate for OFA, not only he’s the goal or target for Izuku’s potential power level up, he also becomes an “obstacle” that Izuku needs to overcome. Not in terms of power, because as we established, Izuku can’t realistically surpass Mirio right now, but in terms of self-confidence and desire to be Hero. Izuku needs to prove himself on how deserving he is to be chosen by All Might. Specifically to Nighteye.

Why Nighteye? Izuku had already told us (through narration) that his training under Nighteye will be a long and lengthy one. Suffice to say we’ll be seeing a lot of Nighteye from here on out. As we all also know, Nighteye still doesn’t acknowledge Izuku even at this point. He still believes Mirio is the rightful heir to the OFA.

Enter Mirio — and oh man, he’s now sufficiently “shot down” as you put it. This is why a lot of people are torn with this turn of the story, because these are 2 possible outcomes that people fear will happen (through knowledge of typical shounen tropes lol):

Mirio loses his Quirk permanently. Izuku feels guilt and gives up OFA to Mirio. Mirio will reject it. Essentially making Izuku “overcome” the “obstacle” easily since Mirio is now “weaker”. OR,

Mirio loses his Quirk permanently. Izuku doesn’t feel guilt. It doesn’t matter anyway, since Mirio is still weaker, therefore rendering the “obstacle” useless.

Essentially people hate that Izuku “won the challenge easily”. Nighteye is left to say, “Now that Mirio is Quirkless, I’m forced to acknowledge Izuku since there’s no other options literally”.

But here’s the thing — I don’t think that’s gonna happen. In fact, I think it would be opposite. Nighteye will pressure Izuku more to giving OFA to Mirio since he still believes Mirio to be better. Essentially, they’re now starting on the same level — being Quirkless — unless Izuku can prove himself to be better at being Hero than Mirio.

In any case, it all boils down to:

Nighteye is a man who knows All Might and his future, and as such, has high standards on who he views as deserving of OFA

Considering Nighteye’s high standard, he only has one he deems worthy, which is Mirio

The readers (us) needs to know why Nighteye views Mirio as the only one worthy. And with the last few chapters I believe all of us now understand right? 

Izuku, the main character, still needs to prove himself to Nighteye, who is his mentor now that All Might can’t do it anymore

Mirio lost his Quirk as a part of Izuku’s growth as a character. It was a necessary sacrifice (according to Horikoshi’s story)

I have no fucking idea how Horikoshi’s gonna pull off “Izuku proving himself to Nighteye” without a significant part of the fanbase getting mad, but we’ll see!! Just last week’s chapter there are people getting mad for “Izuku saving the day alone, whoopee-doo, he’s gonna save Mirio and Eri and take the credit, where the fuck are the Pro Heroes” and guess what, this week’s chapter revealed he was not alone and Aizawa and co. are actually with him 😂 Everybody loves to jump to conclusions.

As for neglecting characters, the only characters I think Hori failed to develop is Nejire and Ryukyu. Bubble Girl, Centipeder, etc. are all very minor characters so they’re not that important, along with the 8 Bullets like Rappa. Nejire and Ryukyu could be recurring characters though since they’re part of the good guys so there’s still hope for them. Fatgum too. But in the end, the most important characters are the people close to Izuku so it’s understandable why some don’t get too much focus.

(I don’t get Amajiki’s focus though, storytelling wise. Maybe his purpose is just to show us how awesome Mirio really is idk. Kirishima’s focus/backstory is also out there but oh well, it already happened.)

TL;DR — This arc is fine.

[danny-phantump]

I'd like to hear more about the extremely complicated AU if you have the time?

Okay!! So first off, bear with me- while I’ve picked up a lot about the manga through tumbr and fanfic and stuff, I’ve only watched the anime, so forgive me if some things seem fucky. Also, if you’ve read the Unwanteds (it was my favorite book when i was like 12, it’s on the younger side but its still a really good book), a few things are pretty heavily inspired by that book. But the basic premise is this: In the 18th century, quirks appeared. Ever since, war changed- conflict became a much bigger deal, because you had no way of knowing if someone with a powerful quirk would just walk out and start raining fire, or rip the air out of the lungs of a thousand men. The reality that war is devastating and uncontrollable is the only thing keeping peace now, in the modern world. Most countries are very isolationist, including the seclusionist country of Diritas, where the Emperor (All For One) is the sole ruler- as he has been since quirks first appeared.

There are four classes, each with a different purpose and each determined in part by lineage and in part by the strength of your quirk. Until you’re 12, you don’t technically have a class, but at that point your quirk is assessed to decide where you place. People rarely change classes between generations- since reproducing outside of your class is illegal, there’s not much drift in power level. The four classes are:

Emperor- only one person, the Emperor, is in this class. He has absolute control- anyone, anywhere, of any age, of any class, must do as he commands. There is no one he bows to. He creates laws, he can have people executed on command. He is a cruel ruler, but he keeps his place through a mix of a stranglehold on the military and a reputation as just, though harsh ruler. He also protects Diritas, and through promotion of nationalist, isolationist ideology amongst the people, they’re willing to put up with almost anything to keep themselves safe. Through the slave class, he also gives the upper classes a cushion to fall back on, making sure that even though things are bad, they can always see that it could be worse. Other countries view Diritas as barbaric and cruel, but the Emperor’s hold is absolute, and no one is willing to start a war that will, with absolute certainty, end in uncountable deaths.

Noble class- The noble class is made of those whose jobs involve a large population. Management jobs- trends, media, infrastructure, rules, you name it. Being at the top of the system (with the exception of the emperor, of course), all other classes are bound by law to obey their commands, unless it carries risk of harm to themself or others or breaks a law. This law is used differently by each noble- those with very little dependence on the lower classes, such as fashion or media management, feel free to use it at will, while those constantly in contact with lower classes, such as infrastructure management, very rarely use it. The nobles don't talk about it, but it's widely assumed that it's because it's human nature to make friends and be companionable, even if that means fraternizing with lower classes.

Worker class- The worker class does most of the heavy lifting- anything above manual labor but below management of populations falls under the duties of the worker class. Often white collar workers or managers of slaves who do manual labor. Their word carries less weight than a nobles, but they're still above slaves and can, to some degree, command them.

Slave class- Members of the slave class are, essentially, animals. They are bred, worked, fed, and commanded like animals. A slave without an owner is a wild beast, able to be beaten and killed with no repercussions, since the true crime in the harming of a slave is property damage. They have no rights whatsoever, and their word carries no weight in a court of law. Despite all this, they have one comfort that cannot be taken: their pack. A slave's pack is legally defined as two mated slaves and all their childless offspring, and they cannot be separated from each other except in extreme circumstances, in which case the packs owner must take the separation request to trial. In reality, packs are formed in all sorts of configurations, and only the most cruel would attempt to split them up. In all other classes, the formation of a pack-like structure (any living arrangement outside of a married heterosexual couple and children) is seen as deviant, childish, and dependent. In slaves, pack is not only strongly encouraged, but outright crucial- a packless slave can be straight up executed if they aren't placed into an artificial pack within a certain timeframe. The purpose of this setup is loyalty. The noble and worker classes must be loyal to nothing above the Emperor, while the slave class is never going to be loyal to their subjugator, and so instead the Emperor has set up as many loyalties as possible so their conflictions will prevent a class-wide uprising. The lack of pack in the upper classes is also to encourage breeding; the Emperor is obsessed with eugenics and breeding the best quirks in his people so that when they finally begin the Final Conquest and try to take over the world, they’ll all have unstoppable and powerful quirks.

In the neighboring country of Salus, a rebellion is brewing. Packed with refugees from Diritas, it’s well on its way to boiling over. I don’t want to spoil too much, but this is where class 1-A ends up. Well, they’re not a class here- they’re rebels and criminals, troubled youth. The way executions work in Diritas, the offenders are loaded onto a reinforced bus in quirk-blocking handcuffs and carted off to the palace to be tried and executed. You may notice that they were determined to be executed before the trial- that would be because the ‘trial’ is nothing more than a pleasantry where they tell you why you’re about to die. Then the Emperor takes your quirk, and your body is burned. I have reasons for why everyone (sans mineta because fuck him) is on the bus, but I’m not putting them all here because a) it would take forever and b) plot reasons. Suffice to say, Aizawa hijacks the bus and rescues the lot, but not before All For One does Some Shit and unlocks Midoriya’s insanely powerful quirk, revealing he was part of a breeding project this whole time and that now he was gonna become the Perfect Weapon. But- whoops!- no he fuckin wont, and now they’re in Salus and training to defeat the most powerful being the world has ever seen.

This AU Now Comes With:

- heartfelt reunions

- rebel!everyone

- kickass powers being used in unintended ways

- a horrific plot being uncovered and subsequently blasted to shit

anyway, thanks for asking!! i appreciate it a lot!

[dead-gay-bitxh]

Black Ice: The Ballad of Zhou and Fawkes

Since my friend @autumndiesirae has been getting so much shit lately, I decided to write this for her as a gift. And tbh, I like the premise of this ship even if I personally DON’T ship it. Fuck all you haters for saying the things you do to her. It’s a FICTIONAL pairing of two FICTIONAL characters from a FICTIONAL universe where FICTIONAL things happen FICTIONALLY in FICTION, FICTIONALLY. Like Jesus Christ, get over yourselves.

TL; DR - Meihem ship because my friend is fucking great.

Rating: T, for blood, violence, and language

Word Count: 2208

Genre: Mostly fluff with some canon-typical violence because these two are both sweethearts and you can’t tell me otherwise.

Mei really used to hate Junkrat. It was simply a fact that she’d accepted over time. When he first walked into the base of Overwatch, he’d seemed like a no-good dirty criminal, bent on helping himself out and nobody else. That was the way he’d been stuck in Mei’s mind for the longest time.

But after a while, he actually began to grow on her.

The first few months he was in Overwatch, he never strayed more than a few feet away from his bodyguard. As such, Mei found herself actually learning about him through Roadhog than anything else. Through some strange quirk of fate, she started to actually care when Junkrat came in from a mission being fussed over by Mercy.

Then the first mission they were sent on, Mei couldn’t help herself. Roadhog wasn’t around, he’d been ordered to circle around the warehouse they were infiltrating to try and distract the Talon agents, and Junkrat just waved him along with a cheeky note of, “If anythin’ happens, I’ll just get l’il Snowflake to freeze me up!” That was his nickname for her. Snowflake. Mei found it quite endearing that he’d have such an innocent nickname for her when he named his steel traps things like Dick Biter and Fucky.

When a Talon agent started to get too close to him, Mei would immediately pull up an ice wall to block them off and giggle at their fit that they had behind it. Junkrat took note, giggling a bit before launching a hefty round of frags over the wall to do away with the offending agent before turning back to the agents keeping the warehouse locked down.

One got in too close without her noticing. Mei was happily freezing agents left and right (which Junkrat happily subdued with more bombs) when a loud bang sounded. Something tore through her coat and her...skin. She looked down, terrified at the river of blood sprouting from her side. 

Even in her dangerous line of recent work, Mei couldn’t stand the sight of blood. It took everything she had to keep herself from fainting then and there. She whipped her blaster around and shot three ice spears straight into an agent’s gut. He coughed up blood as he toppled to the ground, gurgling red from his mouth. Someone was shouting, the words barely registering to Mei. She needed a quick fix to last until she could get back to base under the care of a proper doctor. 

She jostled the jug on her back, gauging the liquid inside by the sound. Enough for one cryo-freeze.

Thin arms wrapped around her waist. Instinctively, she struggled, kicking her legs to get away even though it just pushed more blood from her wound. “’Ey, ‘ey, don’ worry! Hoggy’s here!” Junkrat? Was he grabbing her?

No, he was...hugging her? Mei could feel his patchy blonde hair against her neck, pushing through the puff of her coat to get to it. Just to be sure, she patted the area, and sure enough, he bumped his head against her gloved hand. “Junkrat, what are you doing?”

“Ya don’t like it? S-sorry, mate, sorry!” He recoiled like he’d been burned. Mei was almost ready to vomit but she turned to regard him anyway. “I-I’m sorry, but I have to take care of this.” She waved at her bloody side to try to get him to understand. “That? Wha... What the fuck?!” He turned immediately and fled the building. “Lu! Lu! Luuuuuuu!” She heard him keep shouting that as he hobbled away.

She couldn’t wait any longer. Mei flicked the gear on and happily embraced the numbing cold that surrounded her. Curled in her little ice box, she felt the chill seep onto her skin, cover the somehow-massive bullet wound in her side. Probably something like Pharah’s rockets, or even one of Junkrat’s bombs that had flown off to the side.

He’d been so worried.

Why did she think of that? In this cool dark, she could’ve thought of anything. But her mind kept drifting back to how worried Junkrat had been, how he’d rushed off immediately to get help. He’d been so quick to get it, too.

More voices were outside her little box. She could feel her side go numb - a good sign that it’d be able to wait until she got to the transport and the base. The cryo function was beginning to wind down, but whoever was outside apparently didn’t want to wait for the ice to weaken enough for her to break out by herself. The rung of metal against her little ice block kept ringing in her ears. 

Finally, her ice box broke, shattered by Roadhog’s hook; Mei noted that it was coated in ice crystals. “Roadhog-” She started, but was almost immediately cut off by the bouncing blond practically pouncing on her. “You alright? Still hurt? Ice box stuck? What happened? C’mon Snowie, c’mon, c’mon, say somethin’!” Next to him was the young musician Lucio, observing with a tired and knowing half-smile. 

“Hold up ‘Rat, you gotta let her answer the first question before you ask more. Give her a sec.” Mei mumbled her thanks, looking over her shoulder to see the carnage in the warehouse. Most of it was covered in black soot, blast marks clear on almost every surface. 

Those marks certainly hadn’t been there when she’d gone into her cryo stage. 

Junkrat wasn’t exactly familiar with subtlety. After that particular mission, he had a tendency to ‘bump into’ Mei about three times every hour. When she asked, he just stammered out some excuse about ‘findin’ Roadie, bugger always jumpin’ off somewhere’. Even though everyone knew that Roadhog was almost always guaranteed to be in the room he shared with Junkrat.

It more or less fell into a rhythm. Mei and Junkrat ‘bumped into’ each other at roughly the same places, roughly the same time of day, and they’d talk for a bit then go about their business. Eventually leading to the current predicament. “Ya wanna do what?”

“I...I’d like to take you somewhere. For dinner. O-or if you’d prefer, ma-maybe if you had something else in mind, then, maybe, we could do that, instead.” Mei wasn’t really sure how to properly ask for a date, and though she’d asked around a lot - even going so far as to ask the cyborg Genji who, to her knowledge, hadn’t really properly dated anyone in years (despite some rumors that he and Master Zenyatta were a couple to some degree) - she still felt exceedingly nervous about asking Junkrat out for something as small as dinner.

“Y’do know I’m a criminal, roight?”

“I-I know... Maybe not dinner then, maybe something quieter. A movie? Or... W-well, what do you have in mind?”

Mei regretted ever asking. She didn’t really like unnecessary fighting at all, but apparently mech fights were the biggest form of entertainment in Junkertown, so Junkrat dragged her out to one of those that was going on in the city. 

It was strange to be in one, and it reminded her of the old days of bull fighting in Spain when it had been a thing a few decades ago. Lots of people gathered to see a lot of destruction between two things that were fairly evenly matched, all for a blood bath. She tried to enjoy herself nonetheless, able to keep up a smile whenever Junkrat looked over by reminding herself that this was just about all he probably knew.

All in all, it could’ve gone much worse. After the fight, they wandered around, Junkrat in his typical shorts accompanied by a tattered hoodie he kept up to hide from the police that passed by on the road from time to time. There was some kind of festival or parade going on, so maybe tonight hadn’t been the right night to take him out, but Mei hadn’t really thought much of it before doing the deed.

He seemed to enjoy himself anyway. It brought a smile to her face how quickly Junkrat took to enjoying himself. Mei was too intimidated by the volume and the crowd to have a lot of fun, but she tried her best. That was what mattered.

“Ready to roll, Snowflake?”

“Let’s do it!” With a little pat, Mei released her little drone friend Blizz to cover the area. It blasted ice in all directions, freezing about a dozen Talon agents in place. While it kept up its barrage of ice in all directions, Junkrat unhooked his RIP-Tire from his harness and started it up.

Nothing more than his usual dramatically yelled “FIRE IN THE HOLE!” preceded the bomb’s direct path right into the center of the cluster of agents. They all yelled for assistance, someone to come help, but anyone that would would’ve been too late. Blizz flew back as the explosive detonated, squeaking happily in Mei’s palm at a job well done. “You did great!” Mei patted Blizz affectionately before it nestled itself back in her pack.

“Too bad that you’re both about to be history.” Mei half-squeaked and Junkrat did the same at the omniscient voice. It echoed everywhere before the owner strolled into the room from close by. The infamous Talon agent Reaper.

They’d both been told to keep an eye out for him, and yet here they were having used their most powerful assets against the small fry. Or maybe... Oh no. This was on purpose. 

Mei kept her blaster aimed right for the mercenary, ready to let ice fly the moment he made a move. She unfortunately had no opportunity, as Reaper vanished from sight in a column of black. Mei, her fluffy coat and stout stature, made a decent wall for anyone to go through. Junkrat pushed her forward, trying to get her to move out of the room, but she wouldn’t budge.

He kept it up for a few minutes, probably longer than he should’ve. He felt insecure without the weight of his RIP-Tire on his back. Vulnerable. “C-c’mon Snowy, w-we bette’ get out before-”

“Someone gets hurt.”

BANG-BANG-BANG!

Mei turned and shot a hearty blast of ice at the mercenary, who was currently fleeing while cackling like a sadistic sociopath. Another thing behind her was Junkrat. He;d managed to dodge most of the shotgun blasts, but he was still bleeding from buckshot in several spots. She dragged him down to her own level, wiping at the blood seeping from his body. 

“Hey, hey, watch it Snowy! That hurts...”

“Junkrat, are you alright? Please, did he hurt you?”

“You’re hurtin’ me.”

“Junkrat...” He huffed a sigh, finally giving in to the smaller woman’s pleas. “No... I’m fine.” Mei wrapped him in a warm hug, uncaring about the blots of red that soaked into her coat. “Good. Let’s go find Dr. Ziegler. She can make sure you’re alright.”

Their fifteenth date. Mei had finally gotten Junkrat into something more her speed. They were nestled into a big pile/fort of blankets and pillows, watching old movies and TV shows back to back. Mei currently had the man enthralled in a show she recently found, Steven Universe. She loved it, and apparently Junkrat did too. 

“No! Ya shithead, the kid’s tryin’ ta- What th’ hell, Jasper?!”

“Oh no! Jasper! Let them help you!” Her hand found Junkrat’s as they watched the fairly gruesome scene for the otherwise-friendly kid’s show, blue-green spikes and spots looking horrendously realistic for as old as the program was. The episode ended, and the prompt for the next one came up. “Th’ fuck, mate? Sheila had it all right there, didn’t do a thing.” Mei sadly nodded, tentatively resting her head on Junkrat’s shoulder. 

He was still a little sensitive with physical touches, so she was always mindful of his personal boundaries. Now, he didn’t seem to mind. Mei groped around in the dark for the remote so they could play the next episode, but it was nowhere. After another minute, plastic bumped the top of her hand.

“Roight here, Snowy.”

“O-oh. Thank you, Junkrat.” There was a long moment of silence as they watched the blank screen of the holotelevision load the next episode of the show. “Name’s Jamie.” 

“Hm?”

“If ya wanna, ya can call me by me real name. It’s Jamie. Short for Jamison. Jamison Fawkes.” Mei soaked in that for a moment. They’d known each other on fairly neutral terms for months, nearing a year when they’d started to hang out properly. Then they started dating and it’d been, what, another year since then? Was he really letting her know his full name? His full real name?

Warmth sprouted in Mei’s chest. She felt honored that this man, this utter survivor, trusted her enough to tell her his name when the rest of the world knew him as something else. Reluctantly, she leaned up and pecked him with a kiss on his dirty, soot-covered cheek.

“Thank you, Jamie.” She wrapped him up in a tight hug, pulling her discarded coat around them both. Something pressed into her loose dark hair. When she lanced up, it was Jamie, burying his face in the top of her head. Mei hugged him tighter. “Oof... Hey Snowy, ya gonna break me in half!”

“Oh! S-sorry!”

[a-panda-reads-act-omega]

ACT OMEGA PART 7

THE 19/10/16 UPDATE

Alright hi people. Gotta fun story for you! I’m sick. So yeah, the end. I’m huddled up in my room, experiencing an uncomfortable amount of stomach pain, and I. thought “hey! why dont i just do a liveblog?” and now im here. prepare youreselves, we’ve got a whole 4 pages today! lets just get started.

Oh right, we left off with these fellas. Jasprose looks more than happy to bother this guy, and Erisol looks like he wants to jump off a cliff but cant because he floats.

ERISOLSPRITE: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Jesus, not to good at socializing are we Erisol?

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Hey you! ERISOLSPRITE: nope nope nope nope nope.

Ok yep, he wants no part of this. I fuckin love Erisol. I mean. The fusion, not the ship. 

JASPROSESPRITE^2: HEY!! ERISOLSPRITE: leavve me alone JASPROSESPRITE^2: Stop that. ERISOLSPRITE: fuck thii2 fuck that fuck evverythiing. ERISOLSPRITE: and fuck you e2peciially.

Ok guys I’m relating to Erisol on an uncomfortable level. Also this conversation so far is golden. 10/10.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: I said stop it! ERISOLSPRITE: iill do wwhatever the fuck ii wwant. ERISOLSPRITE: wwho the hell evven are you anywway? JASPROSESPRITE^2: That’s my line! JASPROSESPRITE^2: Do you have any idea how baffling it is to have some random drifter appear now of all times? You’re a complete stranger! 

Its just about as baffling as everything else that happens in this fucked up story. PLUS, Jasprose, you were going around looking for fun. dont you be sassy with the depressed asshole for it.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: I mean, it's a welcome surprise and all, but I'm still perplexed!

Man I wish Jasprose did cat puns now.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Here I thought we were finally done with all the pointless bullshit. 

We’re never done Jasprose. It’ll always just keep coming. BUT I GOTTA DISAGREE WITH YOUR CLAIM THAT ERISOL IS POINTLESS BULLSHIT. ERISOL IS THE TRUE FUCCKIN HERO OF HOMESTUCK FOR BEING THE ONLY ONE TO POINT OUT HOW FUCKED UP IT ALL IS.

God I hate that I relate to Erisol.

ERISOLSPRITE: actually forget ii evven a2ked. ERISOLSPRITE: ii ju2t met you and ii already hate evverythiin about you.

Gasp! Could this be black love at first sight?

ERISOLSPRITE: and not the 2leazy kiind eiither. iim talkiing about the mo2t platoniic of loathiin my pump bi2cuit could po22iibly mu2ter.

Oh.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Well, if you aren’t going to tell me your name I’m just going to call you whatever I want. ERISOLSPRITE: or... ERISOLSPRITE: you could go awway. 

Oh my god I feel bad for him. He just wants to be alone to wallow in his own self-hatred/pity. Which is weird, because normally I would hate somebody who wallows in his own self-hatred/pity.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: So tell me about yourself, sad sack! JASPROSESPRITE^2: How’s sprite life been treating you? ERISOLSPRITE: ugh.

Ugh indeed. Does anybody enjoy being a sprite? I mean, its great to be alive again (unless youre erisol), but other than that you just become kinda irrelevant. Gotta be kinda jarring to see life go on without you.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: I mean, two dull troll dopes in one? What a waste of a perfectly good kernel. JASPROSESPRITE^2: Where did yours even come from? There are precisely ZERO empty kernels remaining in this session. I would know! JASPROSESPRITE^2: The only logical conclusion to draw here is that timeline shenanigans are somehow involved.

Jasprose, thats the only logical conclusion anybody can ever draw. I’m guessing though, that Erisol was just on LOWAS during all that retcon bullshit? I think. None of this makes sense anyways though.

ERISOLSPRITE: wwho knoww2? maybe 2kaiia ju2t got bored. ERISOLSPRITE: but 2ure, wwhatevver. let2 go wwiith that. 2ound2 2en2iible enough. JASPROSESPRITE^2: I knew it! I love being right. ERISOLSPRITE: holy 2hiit, are you obnoxiiou2. 

I know, Jasprose is the best kinda obnoxious. It’s like this perfect blend between playful and snarky. 

ERISOLSPRITE: ii diidnt thiink iid evver fiind 2omeone ii hate more than my2elf but youvve done iit. ERISOLSPRITE: ... diid ii ju2t 2ay that out loud. de2perate much??

Of course you are, you’ve always been desperate. Also, auto correct is hating these quirks.

ERISOLSPRITE: the fact that ii evven entertaiined that thought and contiinue twwo talk twwo you iin2tead of nopiing the fuck out of here remiind2 me of ju2t howw depravved ii really am, and that the only thiing keepiin me from obliiteratiin my2elf ii2 howw much of a deranged kiick ii get out of my owwn 2ufferiing.

HNN youre so perfectly pathetic I love it.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Wow, are you a trainwreck or what?

No kidding Jasprose. Like, theres nothing this guy can do to ever be happy.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: You know, I think I might actually hang around a tad longer. I happen to find trainwrecks and other horrific disasters morbidly fascinating. ERISOLSPRITE: evvery moment ii spend wwiith you iis hell.

I can sum up this whole conversation so easily.

Jasprose: haha youre patheticness is fucking priceless Erisol: kill me

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Then why not leave? I’m hardly chaining you to the spot here, green cheeks. ERISOLSPRITE: ... ERISOLSPRITE: twwoo much effort. JASPROSESPRITE^2: See? Riveting.

He’s already explained this though! he literally just wants to see himself suffer.

Nice panel. thats all I have to say on the matter.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: So now that we’ve established you’ll keep up our conversation purely out of apathy and an acute, masochistic sense of self-loathing...

Yes, yes exactly.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: (Also apparently some form of conflicted caliginous attraction to me. Aint that a doozy?)

HIUDNSA <3 FUcking love you Jasprose.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: How did you end up here? WHY did you end up here? ERISOLSPRITE: ii a2k my2elf that evvery 2iingle day. JASPROSESPRITE^2: Yes, yes, you hate yourself. I get it. Can we please move on? I need details! ERISOLSPRITE: fiine wwhatevver.

Oh wow, is he chilling on the self-hatred thing? who would’ve thought.

ERISOLSPRITE: ii followwed an orange biird guy twwo thiis planet that came from fuckiing nowwhere. ERISOLSPRITE: but then he kept tryiing twwo mumble hii2 2tandup routiine2 at me 2o ii fucked off.

Yep, that sounds about right for Davesprite.

ERISOLSPRITE: ii wwandered around debatiin the pro2 and con2 of fiinally 2elf-de2tructiing untiil 2ome 2ort of wwiindy 2hiit 2tarted happeniing.

Oh cool, John’s big quest thingy. Also, that’s kinda morbid... Like, I get this is part of his self-hating schtick, but he was literally contemplating suicide.

damn.

ERISOLSPRITE: iit managed twwo dii2tract me from gnawwiing exii2tentiialiism for a miinute there untiil ii stopped giivviing a 2hit and movved on. ERISOLSPRITE: then an iindi2crimiinate periiod of tiime pa22ed and 2uddenly you 2howwed up. ERISOLSPRITE: 2tiill deliiberatiin on that explodiing thiing by the wway.

DONT you fucking dare blow up you green asshole.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Prrr prrr, I see! So both you and Davesprite came the same way I did. JASPROSESPRITE^2: How intriguing. JASPROSESPRITE^2: But enough about how; let's move on to why. JASPROSESPRITE^2: So, Señor Fishface, what are your plans? Any unfinished business you might want to attend to? In need of a GUIDE, purrhaps? ;3

Jasprose, I think the last thing he wants is for you to guide him.

ERISOLSPRITE: meh. ERISOLSPRITE: not really. JASPROSESPRITE^2: That’s hardly an answer! Aren’t you curious about the cosmic significance of your continued existence? ERISOLSPRITE: fuck no. ERISOLSPRITE: iin fact that ii2 pretty much the thiing ii am the lea2t iintere2ted iin. JASPROSESPRITE^2: Well that’s just boring. ERISOLSPRITE: doe2 that mean youll leavve? JASPROSESPRITE^2: Let me think about that... JASPROSESPRITE^2: Nope! 

This poor fucking guy, Like, he needs to ollie outie outta  here quick, because his submissive self-hatred is almost making me feel bad for enjoying this conversation.

ERISOLSPRITE: fiigure2. ERISOLSPRITE: wwhat2 evven the poiint? ERISOLSPRITE: lookiing at 2kaiia ii can 2ee another uniivver2e frog ha2 2howwn up and relea2ed iit2 vva2t croak thiing. ERISOLSPRITE: wwhich mean2 the game i2 ovver and the player2 are probably reciievviin the ultiimate rewward a2 wwe 2peak. ERISOLSPRITE: 2o there ii2 liiterally nothiing left twwo do be2iide2 wwaiit around for an opportuniity twwo croak a2 wwell. JASPROSESPRITE^2: Now hold on a second! JASPROSESPRITE^2: I’m not so sure about that, actually. ERISOLSPRITE: wwhat noww?

Hm.. Im not sure if enlightenment is the first thing or the last thing this guy needs. Honestly I think he just needs a break.

pffFHAHA, JASPROSE WITH THE SINGLE PAP AND STARE INTO HIS SOUL

And he just

wants to die.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Well, while I was ignoring your dismal yakking, I think I’ve figured it out!

Goddammit Jasprose.

ERISOLSPRITE: (wwhat are you doiing.) JASPROSESPRITE^2: I am almost certain now that you appearing wasn't pointless after all! ERISOLSPRITE: (...)

She’s gonna say something that’ll make him feel more shitty, isn’t she.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Of course, I thought so at first. But then again, I bet Rose also thought that of me when I initially sprang into being only a few hours ago. And I turned out to be fairly important for the final climactic battle, didn’t I? ERISOLSPRITE: (*2iigh*) JASPROSESPRITE^2: I also thought Davepeta was fairly pointless but I agree with them now, that is definitely not the case. In fact their destiny has the potential to be quite grand!

Where are you going with all this? Come on Jasprose, don’t say something stupid to him. 

ERISOLSPRITE: are you goiing twwo get twwo the poiint anytiime 2oon. JASPROSESPRITE^2: Don’t interrupt!! ERISOLSPRITE: (wwhy me.)

I dont know man, they just dont see how great you are. 

JASPROSESPRITE^2: As I was saying. Let me dumb things down for you: Even though it may not be immediately evident how you’re meant to slot into place amongst the great puzzle of causality, that doesn’t mean a purpose isn’t waiting somewhere in the brush to pounce upon your puke green sprite tail! JASPROSESPRITE^2: And I definitely want to be here when that happens.

Is it just me, or is Jasprose giving off Vriska vibes? I’m not sure what she means by she wants to be there when it happens, but it’s feeling like she could start getting all controlling over his “destiny.”

OOH HI KIDS! I’m hoping we get to see some interaction soon. It looks like John’s hanging out at the door, so probably not from him. BUT these other pairs might be interesting to see.

Dirk/Jake: Yeah this one was pretty obvious, I’m not sure with all the. timeline shenanigans, but I’m guessing they’ll need to work out some relationship issues.

DAD/Calliope/Jane: Not much to say on this pairing, other than it might be interesting if we get to see DAD talk? He probably wont though, let’s be honest.

Dave/Karkat: Ohh yis, the gay ship that nobody can agree on. WELL I CAN AGREE WITH MYSELF, and what myself thinks is that they are fucking precious together.

Jade/RoSE OH FUCK: OK DONT MIND ME JUST SHIPPING. Ahem. So THIS is a pairing we haven’t seen a lot of, despite them both being from the same session. WHICH IS INTERESTING, because they have a really neat dynamic. AND ALSO I FUCKING SHIP THEM

Kanaya/Roxy: This should be interesting as well! Again, I’m trying to wrap my head around timeline shenanigans, so who knows how much Kanaya knows about Roxy. But Roxy did the matriorb thing! And I feel like Kanaya is seriously gonna admire Roxy, which is likely going to be adorable.

Terezi/Endless Void: Seems like they’re enjoying a nice staring contest. Even though she’s blind-

ALRIGHT THATS ENOUGH OF THAT! We got a dialoglog to open

JASPROSESPRITE^2: We’re simply going to have to wait and see. :3 ERISOLSPRITE: yeah 2ure wwhatevver.

Waiting and seeing. Oh, I guess that’s not as controlling then. Though it is kinda unlike Rose to stand by and let the game do it’s thing. . .

HMMMmm.. . .

alright that’s the end of thaat. For only 4 pages, I think I made that reasonably long. Anyways, I’m gonna end this now. BYE.

[sero-pairo]

this is the last time (it never is)

by hcjulie

It’s nothing like the movies, nothing like the songs — they said that it’d be easy but they were fucking wrong. Mutually assured consumption, destruction, or perhaps it even became an unholy deification along the way — it was all relative.

All so he could take advantage of his little green faerie boy and become the home that held every fragile piece of him — his last promise to the only maternal figure he’s ever known.

  OR: Izuku has had ten whole years to learn how to live with the illness of loving Katsuki. His rebel saint, his fire, his only god — the beginning to his devastating end.

Words: 25280, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Wave Your Red Flags (Bet You Do It On Purpose)

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

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage

Categories: M/M

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Mitsuki, Bakugou Masaru, Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko, Sero Hanta, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Family (My Hero Academia), Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu, Monoma Neito, Hakamata Tsunagu | Best Jeanist

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki & Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki & Sero Hanta, Sero Hanta/Todoroki Shouto

Additional Tags: Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Quirkless Bakugou Katsuki, Toxic Relationship, Top Bakugou Katsuki, Bottom Midoriya Izuku, They're both messes, From the Moment They Met, This was Doomed, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Midoriya Izuku is Bad at Feelings, Wave Them Red Flags, they need so much therapy, Modern AU, Pay Attention to the Fucking Tags, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Recreational Drug Use, there's so much miscommunication, Yes someone dies, That Tag Is There For A Reason, Izuku is Ruined, By None Other Than Katsuki, Hanta Sero Is A Little Shithead, Oh They're All Rich BTW, Rich Bitch Problems, Anyways There's Smut, Angst, No Fluff, Just Nasty Fuckies and Tears, Not One Ounce of Comfort, Hope You All Cry I Guess

from AO3 works tagged 'Sero Hanta/Todoroki Shouto', https://ift.tt/PcC6ahn