#so heads up: I'm still going to be relatively unresponsive for a while

[ell-arts]

Excuse me, I hope Im not bothering you, but I have a couple questions on some of the things you would prefer when it comes to the fandom.

When it comes to dark or twisted au's that other writers create, would you prefer something more just a real 'what if' like 'An Interesting Arrangement' from @ribbondee ? Or would you dig deeper into something that would show more of a dark side to the characters like the 'Amnesia' segment from @cartooncadet666 ?

And of course the only other question I have right now (hence why I said a couple questions) When it comes to the art style diversity, what kinds of art have you seen the fandom make and if you have any favorites, which ones do you love the most?

Not bothering at all 💙

Interesting questions. I have to start off with saying that, ultimately, what I "prefer and not prefer" about the fandom should not be an indication of whether someone's work is good or not, nor should it bar the fandom from creating whatever they want. I have my own tastes and preferences just as much as the next person, and naturally we're all drawn to work that mostly aligns with our tastes/preferences.

Your first question is whether or not I would be more drawn towards an au exploring a character's dark side, or towards one with a 'what-if' scenario. My answer to that is that it depends on the content.

I like both dark au's and what-if au's, it just depends on how well they are written, and sometimes it also depends on the characters. I know this is going to break a lot of hearts, but since Betrayus is not my favourite character, I'd feel less inclined to check out a work centred completely around him in favour of checking out a work that features my favourite characters. This is not the be-all-end-all though, sometimes a work can pleasantly surprise me even if it doesn't have my favourite characters. It really all comes down to writing.

And as for your second question, hmm. A tricky one. I'd say that most of the fandom's art styles are generally cartoonish/2D stylised, but there's a wide swath of diversity within that category. If you show me a list of artworks in the fandom then I can easily point them out and name the artists behind them (at least on Tumblr), which is great because it shows that each artist has a recognisable style. I really don't like choosing favourites though, so I'd rather show you a list of pmatga artists whose styles I really enjoy, if that's okay!

@anti-cosmofangirl @inkteresting-art @ninjastar107 @pacgacha @breezoreceiver @toad-in-a-trenchcoat @xelys-xlys @ghostbunnyarts @famitendo @polina-quail @ask-nova-valentine @slumbergoblin

There are others, but these are the ones I can name on top of my head and who are generally still active (or actively posting pmatga art). I'm sure there are also a bunch of hidden gems out there that I've yet to stumble upon!

[moss-covered-thoughts]

Whooaa I mean the whole psychological manipulation thing goes hard, that's terrifying. It's also differently terrifying to imagine him, essentially in a kind of low-key sedated state? Cuz...yeah it makes sense why he would never have tried to get back to his friends, get back to his family if he's on good terms with them, but yeah his "check-ins" consisting of them reading over his bio signs, growth developments (it's so w e i r d ghosts are dead, they shouldn't grow), they def keep him as a live subject as a halfa, they make him go thru exercises where he uses his powers, transforms, they measure it mid-transition like how Vlad wanted to do that one time. And at the end of each check in, they give him a small dose, maybe oral or just needle, give him some praise (they've learned it responds well to positive reinforcement).

Danny feels a little more light headed than usual the day they give it to him, but it's okay, he knows it's important, it helps him sleep. The next day he's back to normal, his anxiety has almost completely disappeared since they started their study, and the rest of the time he's encouraged to engage in his usual activities. So he goes to school, studies, still goes out as a ghost at night, and the only thing he has to do is keep a little device around his neck (it's not a collar of course, it's loose enough he could comfortably remove it) and a wrist bracelet (again, not tight, it's okay), it tracks what he does, what elevates his energy levels (signatures go up same as hear rate, theyve found, how fascinating). Danny feels a bit weird about it, since he had the idea for so long to always keep his vigilantism a secret. It's also weird because he knows he's never really alone, never has time for himself. Every once in a while, he thinks about just wandering, looking up at the stars and just wanting to go visit. He tried it once, just to get a nasty shock that he wasn't expecting. He had cried, moreso because he didn't understand why it had happened, and he went home. They were waiting for him. Calmly explained that his flying was restricted to the area needed for his patrols, but he couldn't go too far away. They had given him another dose and he didn't cry about it again, just kept relatively close by.

Just an interesting set of mental dynamics there that are super sad:((( also makes me wonder if Tim and the bats got him out, however that is, or at least get to him, and they're trying to help, would he refuse. would he insist he's fine??

Now let's say they totally get him out, away from the cameras and they remove/negate the tracker and other devices on him. Let's say a few weeks passes as he's trying to adjust, but they can tell somethings off. He's sometimes unresponsive, he spooks easily, he seems uncertain how they're treating him. They're being kind of course, and gentle, but it's like he's waiting for them to snap at him. He feels like something is wrong. And then after a couple weeks, he starts getting unexplainably sick. Becomes lethargic, tired all day, and then gets cold symptoms and eventually a fever that lasts a few days. They realize the sedative the GIW had been giving him was also having withdrawal effects, having been on it so consistently for long. When it clears up after a nasty week where Danny really.onpy talked to Tim, and shied away from everyone else, he comes out one day, looking around like he's confused where he is. Tim and the others maybe are sitting at the breakfast table, Bruce is carefully watching his face, and he looks at all of them like "how long have I been here?" And Bruce slowly answers, knowing the number of days off the top of his head, and Danny is looking slightly panicked now. Tim stands up and goes to him like, you alright there?? And Danny, a hand on his chest where his anxiety is raging, looks scared. He looks so scared, it puts a pit in Bruce's gut, and danny responds "I think something's wrong with me, i-i don't know.... I don't know why I'm here-- it's like, it's like I can't remember--" and Bruce interjects like "you dont have any memory how you got here?'" and Danny shakes his head like "I remember, I just don't understand"

"Date? Me?'

Tim nods, milkshake in hand, sitting outside of McDonald's with his study buddy, Danny.

The other teen looked flabbergasted with a firm blush building up.

Tim found him utterly adorable.

"I can't date anyone? I'm property of.the goverment."

Tim Drake-Wayne, aka Red Robin, has various questions to that statement.

[hajimariwaquartet]

3, 7, 14!

3. Have you received any bookmark notes? Which is your favorite and why?

The Traveler's Wonderful Bag (Genshin, gen)

"Oh lord, hoarders getting called out! XD So true, so true" "The Pocket. . . It shall hoard both objects and people." "Bookmark Collections: fics that butters my bread ?!" "Inventory from perspectives of normal people" "god I love video game mechanics that shits insane nothing ike eating 52 raw potatoes while the boss just watches"

the boy who loved a star (A3!, jusaku)

"This is the softest Jusaku I have ever read and I want to re read this constantly"

where your home is (A3!, gen, gekka sakuya au)

"oh girl. OH GIRL..."

i love these bookmark notes because mmrmrmrpgh <3 they just make feel warm inside and it feels different /pos when i see bookmark notes

7. What do you love most about being a fic writer for your fandom?

a3! worldbuilding is relatively simple, so it gives a lot of wiggle room to explore the characters' personalities themselves! but even then, characterizing a3 charas can be deceptively simple because the earn cash chats/events/plays/magazine interviews show a lot more than what we know (especially if you read between the lines) and i think that's the fun part in writing for a3!

not to mention that the fandom is relatively tame (compared to genshin), and the fact that people welcome deeper insights into certain characters! even if it personally feels as if i write sakuya very ooc sometimes, i'm happy that people seem to like my characterization :] i'm kinda okay with how they characterize sakuya in the game for now, but i also wanna write my own takes and i'm happy people like them! it's sometimes hard to write for certain characters because they don't have much development/material to work on, but i'm glad the fandom is pretty accepting of those stories!

14. Share a snippet.

"Let me go, you—" the Sakuya look alike cranes his neck to glare at Hisoka, but his expression immediately shifts into a haunted and terrified expression. The sneer and fire in his eyes dies down, and his eyes are wide from fear. It's as if he saw the dead come back to life.

"D-December...?"

Hisoka's expression sharpens. He puts more force on where he's holding him down, but the boy looks unaffected—still frozen in fear. He could feel Chikage's glare on them.

"Who are you?" Chikage hisses. "You are not Sakuya."

The boy is unresponsive, and for a moment, Hisoka's worried that he might have knocked him out. After a while, they hear a sniffle and a shaky breath, followed by a something resembling a sob, "Y-You guys are o-okay... I'm glad..."

The boy then slackens underneath Hisoka, head plopping to the grass silently. The courtyard is silent. Hisoka exhales, climbing off the teen. He checks his vitals, relieved to find him still breathing. Although, he doesn't seem like he'll wake up anytime soon. Unlike the Sakuya they know and love, this Sakuya looks decades older from worry and there are light scars on his face. A plaster is on his cheek, and there seems to be a trail of blood underneath his hair. He looks so, so exhausted.

"...There's no way he'd know of that, right?" Chikage asks, eyes clouded over by confusion. "Then how...?"

Hisoka shrugs. "I dunno, but we should probably bring him inside."

[ma-gic-gay]

Finally, the legal proceedings begin again, with testimony from rather dull people, if he's being honest. The jury, it's clear to him at least, is fairly calm at the moment, but there's not a chance in hell that Cyrus is getting off. Not this time. And that terrifies him.

A man with nothing to lose is a very dangerous man. A mobster with nothing to lose? Absolutely fucking terrifying.

A few hours and legal spats between Diane and Helstrom later, court is adjourned until tomorrow, at 8 am. Which, he calculates, leaves Cyrus with a fifteen hour period to cause havoc before the next day.

He sighs, "C'mon, let's get you home," to an unresponsive Carly. "Carly?"

"What?" She asks, snapping back into reality.

"What are you thinking about?" Jason asks, mind running with concern. After all, normally when she's zoning out while thinking, she's making a plan.

And the last plan she made landed them in this courtroom.

"The testimony. I mean, they're genuinely trying to make it seem like you or I would concoct some plan and lure Cyrus into raping and kidnapping me. What the hell do they think of us?" Carly asks, a single tear dripping down her face. "I mean, neither of us are perfect, I know, but to think that I'd do that- that you would do that, it's insulting!"

"They're trying to get under our skin, okay? There's proof they're lying through their teeth right now, Carly. Cyrus is a sick bastard and he's going to jail for the rest of his miserable life. You and I get to walk free while he rots. We will win this." He says, sitting back down in his chair to hug her.

Carly lets out a sad laugh, "God, I hate this."

"I do too."

"I need to get out of here," she sighs, standing up. "You coming?"

"I'm the one who's driving, of course I'm coming," he smiles, holding up the keys just above where she can reach. "Ha, very funny. You're in no shape to drive. Let's go."

"You know, if you would just let me drive, I would be a lot happier right now because I'd have something much better to do than-" Carly starts, stopping her statement suddenly as they leave the courthouse.

He surveys the area immediately, seeing not one, not two, but three armed guys who don't exactly look like cops aiming right at the pair. Fuck. His fingers play at his belt loops, but he doesn't have a gun on him today; it's a court day, why the hell would he bring a gun to a courtroom? That's just plain stupid and it's practically asking to be arrested.

His instincts kick in and he realizes they're gonna make the shot. Unlike the other (relatively shitty) gunmen, assassin's, whatever Cyrus calls them that he's sent after Jason, these ones actually look like they're capable of firing a gun correctly. And they're getting paid hinges on whether or not they hit Carly and him.

Bullets fly out of all three guns at the same time and he shoves Carly out of the way, yelling, "Run!" and ducking down himself but it's too late.

He's been shot, he can feel it as he stumbles onto the ground. His head pounds in his skull and he swears for a minute he can feel his brain. Ow. "Jason!" Carly screams and he can hear her footsteps as he tries to figure out where he's bleeding. "Get back here you sick fucks!" She screams even louder at the gunmen, which probably means they're gone. "I'm going to shoot you myself the second I lay eyes on any of you I swear to god."

Turns out they were just getting paid to shoot him. Carly was just the way they'd manage it.

That knowledge is somewhat comforting as the pain of the bullet continues to hit him in waves, coupled with that of banging his head on the ground when he fell from it. It's a very painful situation for the assassin, who can hear himself moaning in pain.

He's enveloped by a haze of blonde as she cries, pulling out her phone. "I need an ambulance immediately at the courthouse. My best friend was shot in the chest and he's got a head wound." That explains the pain; a chest bullet hurts pretty damn bad. It's not a fun thing. Hence why he doesn't normally shoot in the chest, but rather either a non lethal area or something like the head or the heart. The head wound, though, that doesn't make sense. If he's got a head wound, shouldn't he be unconscious by now? "Well I'm not exactly sure why he got shot, lady, but you better get an ambulance here before I sue this goddamn town for negligence of a shot person!"

A chuckle leaves his throat through the pain as the world starts to get fuzzy around the edges, despite his best efforts to have it not happen like that. "Jason, no, keep your eyes open! Look at me!" A frantic Carly screams, pulling what looks like a really ugly scarf out of her bag and putting it over where he assumes the bullet is. "Just keep your eyes open. Focus on me."

In the distance, he can hear an ambulance's siren. "Of course I'm doing everything I can to keep him conscious, what the hell do you take me for?" She snaps at the lady on the phone through tears. Even when she's witnessing him get shot (and possibly dying, though this isn't exactly the way he planned on dying), of course she's still fighting random people.

"Carly, stop harassing the operator," he says, though he can feel it use quite a bit of his strength as the fuzziness intensifies.

"You do not die on me, Jason Morgan, do you hear me? I am not letting you die because of me, I will not be able to live with myself if you die like this and I have to witness it. Keep your eyes open and just focus on me," Carly practically begs as the sound of the sirens intensifies. They're probably getting closer to being here, maybe even pulled into the parking lot. He can't tell.

As Carly's rambling about something, he can't hear her very coherently anymore, the world turns black around him. Vaguely, he can distinguish the sound of her sobs and the pressure of the scarf around his chest.

"Jason, please, please, please, open your eyes," Carly begs, sobs overtaking her pleas as the ambulance approaches. This isn't happening, this is a nightmare, he's not actually shot and possibly dying. Right? He's fine, right?

"Ma'am, we're going to need you to step away from him so we can do our jobs and help him live," a random paramedic instructs her, earning a scoff as she backs away a few feet.

Who the hell does he think he is, ordering her around like that? Acting like he knows a damn thing about either of them, or like he's got any authority. He could be dying right now for all she knows! "I'm riding with you in the ambulance," she declares. "And you won't be able to keep me out so don't even try to."

"You'll just be taking up space-"

"I've been in these plenty of times before. There's more than enough space and," her voice breaks, a quiet sob leaving her lips before she continues, "he has the keys."

Shaking his head at her, the paramedic signals her to get in and she does just that as Jason's loaded into the ambulance her. "Don't die," she begs quietly to the unconscious man. "Please, god, don't die. This can't be the bullet that kills you."

"Say a prayer in your head," the paramedic says to her and she snaps.

"Stop acting like you know what I'm going through. I don't care if you don't understand what's going on here but let me explain it to you: your job is to make sure my friend here doesn't die. Got it? You can give up on ordering me around any minute now because I'm not in the goddamn mood to listen to it." Carly snaps, tears of rage streaming down her face.

The rest of the ride is mainly silent, save for a few sniffles and sobs from the blonde. With her luck, someone will be at the hospital and this'll be front page news tomorrow.

When they arrive at the hospital, Portia immediately takes Jason's gurney and brings it to a trauma room with a slew of nurses behind her. At least he's getting five star treatment, she thinks, sitting down slowly in a chair.

He got shot protecting her. And now he could die because of it.

"Carly, what's going on here?" Sam asks, storming over.

"Jason," she starts, voice breaking and unsteady as she continues, "got shot outside the courthouse. They're, uh, taking a look at him right now."

"What?" Sam asks, disbelief evident in her tone. "How did he get shot?"

"We were leaving the courthouse and I was fighting with him over driving home and I noticed these three guys, they had guns aimed at us. He noticed and I was stuck there, wondering what the hell they were doing outside of the courthouse and he shoved me out of the way. But," she continues, feeling shame and dread crawl into her veins as she watches it unfold again mentally, "he was too late in saving himself. He got shot in the chest and he fell to the ground. I kept thinking to myself, I've got to save him, I've got to save him for one of the million times he's saved me, so I call an ambulance and wrap his chest in a scarf. And I was begging him to live and bickering with the operator when, suddenly, he stopped showing any response. I don't know if he's dead or alive."

Near silent sobs are all that's heard for a few minutes by either of them, both trying their best not to scream. "He could die," Sam notes, "because of you. Because he has this need to protect you, Jason could die."

"What?" Michael asks, heartbreak evident on his face and killing Carly's heart even more. "What happened to Jason?" When he's met with silence, he asks his question again, "what happened to Jason, Mom, that Sam's blaming on you?" She meets his eyes and sees that he's begging for the truth.

"He got shot." The words seem to echo more than she expects, the full weight of them only now hitting her as she sobs loudly in the middle of the hospital, not caring who hears.

To be continued later in this life.

e

[tzalmavet]

I had been wondering what happened to Grokemama's parents for her to have grown up in total isolation, and I was about to ask, but then I saw your Twitter post this morning about having to explain that soon. I'm excited and nervous at the same time! 😅 Love your characters!

Haha yeah… there’s almost nothing happy about Grokemama’s backstory, and her relatives aren’t an exception to this.  But sure, I’ll tell you! (any mentions of her here I’ll call her by her little nickname of “Mutter” since she’s not a mother yet in this context)

The shorter version: Her father loved her more than anything, but died shortly after she was born, cold and heartbroken at the bottom of a pit.  Her mother was in an even worse state than her daughter would eventually be, and is currently still alive, silently and mindlessly walking the earth.

The longer version… I’ll put under the cut.

Mutter’s father was cold for many years, until he met her mother.  He was a lonely and fretful groke; he knew he’d had a family once upon a time, but he couldn’t remember their faces or voices, and hadn’t met another groke since he was a small child.  Mutter’s mother was a vast, battle-scarred thing of a groke.  You know how I’ve said that many people look into Mutter’s eyes and assume she’s some soulless, non-sentient beast?  Well, for her mother, that assumption might not be far from the truth.

When the two grokes met, it was love at first sight for Mutter’s father.  The joy from seeing and touching her warmed his heart, and he was happier than ever.  She didn’t say anything, only quietly looked at him, though her body was warmed as well.  She had a small armory’s worth of weapons stuck in her body left by people who’d attacked her over the years, and she let him pull them out, clean the wounds, and patch up her dress.

For a time, he was very happy, and he assumed his love was, too.  She let him lead her places and didn’t protest his affection, but never said a single word.  After a while, her silence and unresponsiveness started getting to him.  She never rejected him, but he never got any love back from her, never saw anything behind her staring eyes.He became desperate for any touch from her, any little sound, any sign that she might have a personality rattling around somewhere in her head.  He’d look at her scarred body and wonder if anyone had done something terrible to her in her past, but despite his efforts she never seemed to improve.  His feelings hurt, he considered leaving her to find a more talkative partner, but she was the only groke he’d seen in decades.  For all he knew, they could be the last grokes left in the whole world.  So, terrified of the grokeless void, and of becoming cold all over again, he still clung to her.

Eventually, worried that the silence would drive him mad or that he’d lose the spark of passion that had warmed them, Mutter’s father had an idea: That they should have children.  His children would definitely love him and speak to him; and, if he and she really were the last grokes in the world, making more of their kind was only the logical thing to do.He tried to conceive a child with her (as with everything… she didn’t object to this), and his attempt was successful.  She bore him a single daughter, fully-formed and healthy (this would be Mutter).  Overjoyed, he showered his new child with attention, responding to every sound she made, rushing to soothe every cry, determined to raise her to feel warm and loved.  He considered that his lover’s muteness might be hereditary, and decided that was a bridge he’d cross when he got to it; he and his daughter would communicate somehow.

The mother seemed to have some sense of maternal instinct, as she would hold and feed her new daughter, and watched her with something vaguely resembling interest.  However, she’d sometimes set Mutter down and walk off, much to the father’s alarm; he’d have to pick Mutter back up and hand her back to her mother numerous times.  He became extremely protective to compensate for his lover’s apathy, ferociously fending off any strangers who he deemed a possible threat to his new family (any groke with half a brain knows how rare, fragile, and easily lost their offspring can be).

Then one day, Mutter’s father fell into a hole in the ground.  It wasn’t the deepest hole, but it was full of jutting rocks, and he was too hurt by the fall to climb back up.  His lover came to the hole’s edge and looked in, and he cried out for her help, but she only watched him.For days and days, she stood over the hole while he begged for her to do something, but she did nothing but stare blankly; she’d only step back to sleep or to feed their daughter.  And with a groke as big and ominous as her lingering by the hole, he knew no one else would dare come close enough to help him, either.

Over time, he could hear Mutter crying more often and more shrilly outside the hole.  It motivated him to try and climb out a few times, but he always fell back down and worsened his injuries.  Time, his daughter’s frightened voice, and his lover’s mindless gaze wore him down.  He grew cold again, and died thinking that his daughter was going to die just like him, that grokes were doomed to go extinct with her, and that his lover was a monster.

Mutter’s mother carried her off after staring at the father’s corpse for a few days, set her down in the grass, and walked away.  She’d come back every so often to feed her and/or carry her someplace else, but her visits became less and less frequent.  Eventually, she simply never came back.

And there you have it!  That’s why little Mutter grew up all alone.  She’s never met her mother since (and remembers nothing of her family), but they’ve probably been mistaken for each other a few times since they’re nearly identical at night.  I’m glad you like my characters!  Thanks for the ask!

[rex101111]

Izuocha week day 5- Strength/Weakness

Okay so this one is SUPER LONG one shot somehow instead of a drabble. Yay!

And it’s super angsty! Yay!

...what? At least one of these things needed to be.

"It wasn't your fault."

Izuku paused in the middle of unlatching the lock on his front door at the sound of the soft mumble behind him. His grip tightened around his ring of keys, his heart thundering in his chest as he bite his tongue to keep from screaming.

"None of that was your-"

"Can we not-" Izuku muttered between his teeth, voice chocked. "Not now, please?" He looked behind him to look at Ochako, her hero costume burned and covered in soot much like his own, her face a picture of grief despite whatever encouraging words she tried to use.

She looked like she'd been struck, and he cursed himself for doing nothing but hurting people today.

He shook his head. "No wait I-" He took a deep breath and looked at her again, voice slightly clearer. "I just-don't think either of us wants to hear something like that…right now."

(Concrete shattering and buckling under its own weight, fire licking at his face, people screaming)

Ochako eyes lost focus for a moment, opening and closing her mouth at a loss at what to say to that, before letting her head drop in a quiet nod.

An apology burned in Izuku's stomach, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it. "Let's just…let's get out of these clothes." If he took one more breath laced with the bite of smoke, he was going to lose his mind.

He unlocked the door with a soft turn of his key, pushed open the door and waited for Ochako to enter. She looked behind her for a few minutes, eyes focused on the distance, before sighing and slowly padding into their home, already working on taking off her shoes as Izuku locked the door behind her.

Half an hour later, Izuku was standing in front of his bathroom mirror as he placed one last bandage on a burn in his left thigh, eyes twitching from the sting of disinfectant. He looked up when he finished, spying the many elastic pads and off white bandages adorning his face, trying his hardest not to think about what put them there.

(The flames deafening around him, the heat boiling him alive, smoke in his lungs he can't breathe he can't breathe-)

"Izuku!" He flinched away from the hand on his shoulder, whipping his head to see Ochako clad in nothing but her slightly damp underwear and her wet hair framing her face. Any other time the sight would have sent him sputtering, but the various angry red spots and lines marring her body only sent a dull chill down his spine. "Are you okay? You spaced out there for a minute."

He shook his head harshly, scooting a bit away from her, the sight of her wounds digging a pit in his gut. "I'm okay just…still a bit out of it."

Ochako frowned, raising a hand to brush away some of the hair stuck to his forehead, revealing a bruise that traveled up into his hairline. "Are you sure that hit didn't…do anything bad?" Her face scrunched up in worry. "Maybe we should call Recovery Girl-"

"I'm fine." He snapped between clenched teeth, moving his head away from her touch (doesn't deserve it-this-her-never deserved anything especially not tonight) and letting out a harsh breath. "The paramedics already cleared me to go home…I'm…fine."

"O-oh…" Her hand wilted to her side as she looked away, eyes down cast. "S…I'm sorry."

(She shouldn't sound like that she shouldn't not Ochako not her she should be smiling and happy what's wrong with him-!?)

"No." He ground out past his screeching head. "No don't be I shouldn't have…" He loses what he means to say before he finishes his eyes wondering back to her, head still down cast and eyes hidden under her wet brown locks. "Do you…" He looks at her wounds, every angry red mark a tally mark of guilt stabbing into him. "Do you want help…patching up I mean?"

She runs a hand over one bruise on her shoulder and winces, which brings out a broken chuckle out of her. "Yeah." She looks up with a sad smile. "I'd like that."

He reaches into the medicine cabinet for another bottle iodine and rubbing alcohol along with a few more rolls of bandages, sets them on the sink and gets to work. They spend a good half hour like this, Ochako quiet and pliant under his hands as he covers her wounds one at a time, only making a sound when disinfectant touches a particularly sore burn.

He walks around to reach her back, and the sight of the long, jagged red marks on her back makes him want to jump out of his skin.

(Ochako screaming, a large woodan beam engulfed in flame fell right on top of her. She doesn't fall, a crying bundle in her hands as she simply shrugs off the burning wood off of her and runs full tilt to the window to jump.)

"It looks worse than it feels." She mumbles lamely, hugging herself mutely as he finally sucks it up and takes another cotton swap into the iodine. That takes a good five minutes, partly because Ochako asks for half a second to catch her breath from the pain every few swipes, and half because Izuku needs to make an effort to keep his cool and not crush the bottle in his hands.

He finished wrapping the last bandage on her back over her shoulder, hands shaking slightly as he put them against his knees. "We'll…go to Recovery Girl in the morning." He said, unsteady. "Just to make sure everything's okay."

Ochako nodded. "Okay." She went to the laundry room and picked up a random shirt to pull over her head. She went to the hallway connecting the bedroom and living room and found Izuku standing stock still while looking at the door to the bedroom. "…Ya know…" The sound of her mutter caused him to look over his shoulder at her, eyes unfocused. "I…don't think either of us are going to be sleeping tonight.

Izuku could only nod bleakly, barely responding as Ochako took his hand and led him to the couch in front of the TV. The both of them sat heavily on the cushion, staring straight ahead at the black screen, hands stiff at their sides.

Izuku lost track of time staring into the TV, mind blank and unresponsive, before he felt Ochako lean her head on his shoulder and wrap her hands around his forearm. Taking in a shuddering breath before he leaned his forehead on the crown of her head, taking in a lungful of her shampoo.

(Vanilla and green tea, typical Ochako. Stronger than usual…must have used half the bottle washing her hair…couldn't blame her.)

Another long stretch of silence went by, nothing but the sound of cicadas crying in the night air coming into their apartment through an open window in the kitchen. Izuku feels one of Ochako's hands leave their grip on his hands and sees it reach across the couch…and come back with the remote.

Izuku's eyes nearly bulge out of his skull. "Ochako we don't-"

"I need to hear it Izuku." She says her voice raw and impossibly fragile (not fragile never fragile never how why didn't help-) as she grips the remote. "I need to see if sh-if everyone made it out okay…I just need to."

He opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find some way to stop her, afraid (cowardcowardcoward- ) of what the news would do to her…to him.

"Please."

Every single half argument he had shriveled up and died. He reaches with his hand to clasp it around hers and squeezes, but doesn't say a word.

She presses the ON button, and a picture of a news anchor flickers to life.

"-and continuing on from there, we have an update on the fire that broke out in midtown Musutafu a mere two hours ago."

Ochako nearly crushed his hand in hers.

"For those just tuning in, a villain with a fire quirk escaping capture by local heroes entered a residential complex, and, in what police say was a desperate last attempt to get away, started a fire that quickly over took both him and the heroes pursuing him when it overheated a gas pipe and caused an explosion." The news anchor adjusted his glasses with a disturbed look on his face. "The fire quickly grew to consume the whole building, leaving fighters with little to no way to enter and rescue whatever survivors remained."

Ochako worried her lower lip with her teeth, Izuku squeezed back.

"Soon enough, several heroes arrived on the scene to assist, among them the veteran pro hero Backdraft, and relative newcomers Uravity and Deku." A video of the fire as it happened appeared on the screen, making Izuku's heart jump to his throat. "Although it seemed the rescue attempts were proceeding smoothly, the building soon began to collapse inwards due to the damage of the fire and gas explosion."

He could feel Ochako shaking and shivering under him, but when he reached for the remote, she yanked it away from him with a firm shake of her head. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen, refusing to budge.

"The heroes on sight were quick to save as many as they could before the building fully collapsed." The picture changed to several still pictures of the heroes carrying out civilians before going back into the flames, including Izuku with a man and a woman on his back and Ochako with a bundle of clothe in her hands that she gave to a nearby paramedic just as the building caved in on itself.  "Five people, including the villain and heroes, were killed in the initial blast. Another 10 perished in the flaming building, with at least a further 15 still unaccounted for."

Ochako bit her lip hard enough that she opened a cut and blood trickled thinly down her chin, Izuku could not move, a deep dread settling in the back of his head.

"…And unfortunately," The news anchor continued with a bitter sigh, "not all those rescued survived the ordeal." Ochako froze. "About five had succumbed to smoke inhalation and injuries caused by the fire…including among them five month old toddler Minami Ako, who passed away from smoke inhalation just minutes a-"

The remote flew out of Ochako's hand and embedded itself firmly into the television, sparks and smoke sputtering out of the cavity.

Izuku couldn't think, couldn’t breathe, all he could do was slowly look back to Ochako as she breathed heavily and slowly started to make distressed sounds as she hugged herself and rocking back and forth in a panic.

"O-Ochako…" Izuku pushed back his panic as far as he could manage (help help her HELP HER YOU MORON-) and put his hands on her shoulder to still her, "Ochako please you need to look at me please-"

A soul shattering, spine-freezing scream tore itself out of Ochako's throat, shocking Izuku stiff before she flung herself at him and clung to his form like he was the only thing keeping her from drowning. She sobbed and screamed into his chest almost incoherently, Izuku only barely able to get his bearings enough to hold her close and run his hand through her hair and rock her gently, his panic coming back in full force.

"She was-I had her-" She gasped and sobbed into his shirt, her nails digging into his back as she cried. "I had her! I had her in my arms!" She started screaming in earnest, voice going hoarse. "I saved her! I got her out of there! And it didn't even MATTER!"

"Of-" Izuku mumbled, still in shock himself before he shook himself straighter. "Of course i-it mattered Ochako-"

"NO IT DIDN'T!" She swung her head to look at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I HAD SOMEONE IN MY ARMS AND THEY DIED! AGAIN!" She slammed her face back into his chest, shaking from her sobs. "IT'S NIGHTEYE ALL OVER AGAIN! I HAD HER! I HAD-" She collapsed into helpless sobbing again, her words cutting Izuku to his core.

It's been years, over a decade now, since that fateful mission against the 8 Precepts, since the day the great Sir Nighteye perished, but not in a blaze of glory, but attached to dozens of tubes and on a hospital bed as he breathed his last.

Ochako was the one who carried him to safety, who was depened on to get him out of danger fast enough to save his life…and in the end it didn't matter.

Izuku had vague memories of the days following that incident, focused as he was on Eri and Togata, but he could recall Ochako being…quiet, in those first few weeks. She smiled less, laughed less, talked less…he wondered if, when she was alone, she broke down like this…like she did during the sports festival.

He could not stop her tears, not then, not now…but that didn't give him the right to do nothing.

"Nighteye didn't die because of you." He said of a sudden, voice clear and sure despite the tears that have started to gall down his cheeks to match her own. "Ochako that didn't happen because you weren't fast enough."

Ochako only buried her head deeper in his chest, refusing to look at him.

He grasped her shoulder and hauled her up to meet her eye to eye. "Nighteye died protecting his student and a young girl, he died doing his job." His words felt bitter on his tongue, but this is something she needed to hear…that he needed to hear. "There was nothing you could done to save him."

Sniffed miserably. "If I had been faster-"

"You weren't." He stressed, squeezing her shoulders. "You went as fast as you could, pushed yourself to the absolute limit to save him…he was just…too far gone." He looked at the broken TV set for a split second before looking back at her. "…and so were the people in that building."

She sobbed weakly. "Izuku stop-"

"You went at it like you were mad." He shook her so she couldn't ignore him. "You were surrounded by fire and smoke and had a wooden beam fall on top of you and you just kept going." He put her faced between his hands, feeling her wet cheeks on his palms. "You tried, you never gave up, you saved everyone you could reach." Izuku smiled wetly. "Not even All Might…was able to save everyone."

Ochako stilled, Izuku's words getting through. To hear him place trust in her was one thing…but comparing her to All Might?

"You didn't fail." He said, voice warm and cheeks growing wetter as his panic gave way to his own sorrow. "I froze up in there Ochako, people needed me and I froze up…but then I saw you��charging through the fire." He smile shrunk by an inch. "You saved me there too."

Ochako, hiccupped before another sob left her. "All those people they…she died because-"

"Ochako." Izuku exclaimed, resolutely. "This…" He took a deep breath, the tears in his eyes clogging up his throat. "This…wasn't your fault."        

Ochako let out a chocked sob, covering her mouth with her hands, looking at Izuku, seeing her pain reflected in his eyes as he held her face in his hands. She reached out for him, running her hands through his hair while minding his bruise, gulping the lump in her throat. "It…wasn't your fault either."

Izuku opened his mouth, to agree, to refute to argue, it didn't matter. Ochako flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him desperately, the salty bite of their tears where their lips met.

They soon stopped as Ochako hugged him closer, her head next to his as he squeezed closer as he shook, their sorrow melding together in their embrace as it came pouring out.

They spent a while on the couch like that clinging together as their shared sobs quieted and slowed, until they sat silently in a calm embrace, their arms so limp one of them could just get up and leave…which they wouldn't, even if they had the strength.

"Sorry."

Izuku looked at Ochako for a moment, not sure he heard her right an account of her sore her voice sounded, "what was that?"

"I'm…sorry for just…" She gestured vaguely with one hand. "Just…falling apart like this." She shook her head. "I feel kinda…selfish for doing that."

"Don't be." Izuku smiled with a weak chuckle. "I was doing the same as you…after a night like this…I think it was a good thing we both, uh, fell apart like that together." He buried his head in her head again, letting out an easy breath. "I was actually gonna apologize for the same thing so…don't worry."

Ochako was quiet for a while, taking in the smell of him this close and safe, before sagging against him and sighing. "Thank you, by the way, for being here when I…I really needed it, really thank you Izuku." Her head was jarred for its comfortable position by Izuku laughing of all things, which she responded with a quick jab to his stomach. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." He chocked and laughed, rubbing where Ochako hit him. "It's just…are you going to steal the words from my mouth all night or what?"

He laughed again, and this time Ochako joined him.

She shook her head, and rubbed one of the many bandages covering her form. "We should…probably go find Recovery Girl…we kinda did a lousy job on these."

"You mean I did a lousy job." He hugged her with a tired smirk. "But yeah…we should probably find her sooner rather than later…who knows how she'll react to us just…leaving without getting proper medical attention."

"Not in a fun way…that's for sure."

He laughed again, this time with a bit more strength behind it.

---

Recovery Girl, did not, in fact, react well to them running off. The only reason they didn't get an ear full for running off while having several first degree burns was that she simply had far more people to deal with than them, so she sent them off with a reprimand and a promise this would not be the last they hear of her and the subject.

Ochako felt the spot where the large wound had been, a phantom sensation of where the wooden beam landed on her as she-tried to save the child from the fire. She felt a frown tugging down on her lips before she felt someone hold her hand.

"You okay?" Izuku smiled down at her worriedly, only mollified when she squeezed his hand back. "…I think we had enough excitement for one day…wanna go home?"

Ochako nodded, feeling dead on her feet. "Yeah, I could use a long nap after-" She stopped, the sound of inconsolable sobbing reaching her ears and making her heart drop through the floor.

"Ochako?" Izuku fretted, seeing her look somewhere to her left. "Did something hap-" He stopped, his face falling. "…oh."

Right there, across the hall, were the two people Izuku had managed to get out of the burning building…the parents of Minami Ako.

"Ochako…" Izuku whispered in her ear, they were in civilian clothes so they had not yet been spotted, they could still walk away. "You don't have to-"

"I do." She said firmly, though her voice still shook. She clenched her fists as she saw the mother cry and sob for her lost child, a stab of shame going through her at her own display of grief earlier while the woman had been going through so much pain. "I must do this."

Izuku was quiet for a moment, before he nodded. "Okay, I won't stop you."

"They need someone to be strong for them." Ochako muttered, some doubt in her voice if not her words. "I need to be that strong someone."

"You don't have to be strong alone though."

Ochako looked back at Izuku at those words, a warmth floating through her as she met his brilliant smile. "Do you…" She mumbled quietly, "do you really think I can do this?"

"Of course." He stated confidently. "You're Uravity, the hero who picks people up."

She saw a flash of sadness in his eyes then, and she grabbed his hand. "And you're Deku, the hero who can save anyone."

They shared a scared but determined smile, took a breath, and walked towards the grieving couple.

Tomorrow, they would need to file an official report, coordinate a public announcement towards the victims and their families…but today, tonight, they fulfil their duty towards Minami Ako.

And they do it together.