#so to have a bunch of people without the luxury of training at a hero school

[boss-the-goofball]

In defense of some of those fics that have All Might be heavily against Quirkless Vigilantism - they were typically written before the chapter revealing Toshinori, still Quirkless, beating up people with a metal pipe, and the same goes for those who are Anime-Only because these fics were long before that episode would have aired.

But now that we have all of this information, any new fics that try to perpetuate this blatantly false piece of Fanon Garbage then they can't use Canon as an excuse because Canon has debunked that at this point.

also COMPLETELY unrelated but when people talk abt stuff like quirkless vigilante izuku and whether toshi would be for or against it (generally they paint him as against it because it's usually an all might bashing dadzawa fic COUGHS who said that) i feel like people miss the obvious

girl he WAS that quirkless vigilante. anything he'd say about that would come from a place of having tried to BE that quirkless vigilante at FOURTEEN YEARS OLD. not get into ua. not get mentored. toshi's goal was to STOP CRIME with a LEAD PIPE and NO QUIRK

don't ever tell me that he'd be a big meanie who hates the quirkless and the idea of quirkless heroes/vigilantes ever again. get the fuck out of my house. if he's saying something against it thats because he doesn't want anyone else to get hurt!!! he had to get bailed out by nana!!! like!!! use your fucking brain im begging

[lesbiansanemi]

If it’s cool asking, in your roleswap au, what exactly happened between zenitsu, kaigaku and the corps? Did this universe’s kuwajima have anything to do with the two and do Kaigaku and Gyomei still have a sort of connection? Also, what’s Kaigaku up to in the current events of the story, is he still being taken under the wing of Kokushibo?? He’s a demon(?) so he can’t possibly be being treated well by the corps.

Finally! Is there a reason as to why Akaza was absent during the two’s trial (besides to make him more redeemable lmao)

Personally, I feel like Kaigaku was the character with the most wasted potential in canon, considering the amount of connections he had with other characters and his entire circumstance what with being a slayer-turned-demon and still being a kid on top of that (I think he was 17 when he was turned (maybe even 16)) and I think it would have been nice to see a little more introspection from him at the end of it all, not necessarily to redeem him, I think it made sense for him to die. One of my favourite things about kny is how they handle their morals and always double down on the value held in each individual human life, (it always irks me in action movies whenever the hero brutally murders a bunch of goons and like never looks back on it, especially if they end up sparing the big bad, but I digress) but yeah, would’ve been neat for the guy to have a bit more nuance in the actual story.

It is absolutely cool, I cannot express how much I love answering these types of questions!

So! Zenitsu's backstory is functionally the same as in canon. He ends up getting swindled by a bunch of girls, falls into crushing debt, and the Corps buys it up. It's actually a pretty common thing for the Corps to do in this universe, the Kibutsujis love having people indebted to them, making it impossible for them to leave the Corps (like what happened to the Kamado family). Anyways! Zenitsu's debt is bought out by the Corps, and he's given to Kuwajima to train. Unfortunately for Zenitsu, this version of the Corps is not... very lenient with his intense cowardice and reluctance to fight. Even moreso than in canon, that is

Now, as for Kaigaku, he does still have a bit of a connection to Gyomei! Gyomei encountered him as an orphan, and would do what he could to take care of him without actually bringing him to the Infinity Palace, for want of him being able to grow up and lead a normal life without demons. But this makes Kaigaku bitter, as he wants the luxuries being favored by a Kizuki and Tamayo brings. When he realizes Gyomei is never going to "adopt" him in earnest, he goes to the Corps, reasoning that they'll offer some kind of reward for information on Upper Moon One. Unfortunately for Kaigaku, long term contact with a Kizuki, even as a kid, pretty much gets you labeled as a traitor to humanity to the Corps, and he's given the choice of execution or train to be a slayer. It's obvious which one he picks, and he ends up training with Kuwajima as well. His relationship with Zenitsu is virtually the same as it is in canon

To circle back to Zenitsu's progress in training being abysmal, the Corps sends both him and Kaigaku to fight a demon before they even go through Final Selection. The reasoning is that this will prove whether they're worth investing any more time and money into. Kaigaku's training has been going pretty well, but unfortunately for him, since he's training under Kuwajima at the same time as Zenitsu, they're a package deal. This is also partially to see if Kuwajima's still got it and isn't functionally useless to the Corps now, even as a trainer.

Unsurprisingly, the little "mission" goes fucking horribly. Zenitsu fucks it up in about every way imaginable, and Kaigaku can't do much to salvage it. The only reason they don't die is because Kuwajima steps in to kill the demon, as he's grown too attached to them to just let them die. This results in nothing good for any three of them.

Kuwajima is stripped of any titles, as well as cut off from pay from the Corps for not only failing as an instructor, but going against orders to save Zenitsu and Kaigaku's lives, while Zenitsu and Kaigaku are brought to their trial for it to be discussed what to do with them, as they are still indebted to the Corps. They're quickly deemed too useless (Zenitsu) and volatile (Kaigaku) to be used as kakushi, and they both have the world's worst luck.

Because the Corps has started looking into experimentation with "tamed" demons due to a certain sibling duo (Gyutaro and Ume), as well as Akaza and the Kamado family. Demons that fight demons would be beneficial, the Corps just has to come up with a reliable way to control them, and making their own seems to be the better option, rather than capturing them and attempting to force them to comply.

This also answers your question for why Akaza was not present for this trial! It has only been hinted at so far, but Akaza is of demonic descent in this AU. He is granted the title of Hashira due to his skill and extremely high kill count of demons, but none of the privileges. He's Muzan's favorite dog. His heritage is kept under wraps from most of the Corps, but the other Hashira are aware of it. His word isn't counted at all during meetings, and as such, he isn't even invited to them more often than not. Especially when they are discussing what to do with other hybrids, or tamed demons.

But anyways! It's decided that Zenitsu and Kaigaku are useless to the Corps as they are, but they can be used for these experiments! So they're given to Gyokko (who is the one in charge of said experiments), and are turned into demons. Afterwards, they are given to Kokushibo to "tame" and control. It's up to him to use them as weapons during missions, and report how it goes.

Zenitsu is fucking miserable and terrified during all of this. Kaigaku is enraged and blames Zenitsu for it, but is determined to be as good of an attack dog as possible in an attempt to get back in the Corps' good graces (this will never work, but let the boy dream).

Not long after this is when Nezuko stumbles across them, and manages to fight against Kokushibo long enough for Zenitsu to break free and run. Kaigaku is given the chance as well, but he stays by Kokushibo's side in an attempt to prove his loyalty. As mentioned in the current ongoing installment, this is what earned Nezuko her spot as Lower Moon Six, and is why Zenitsu is so clingy with her

So currently, Zenitsu is living his pathetic little life as a ward of the Kizuki being terrified of everyone around him, and Kaigaku is foolishly believing he can be obedient enough to get back in the Corps' good graces, as if he isn't muzzled and shackled and tailing after Kokushibo on missions to be sicced on random demons

Sorry about the wall of text, but I've had such a fun time translating Zenitsu and Kaigaku's backstory into this AU, and I have a lot of fun things planned for them in the character development department.

I also completely agree about Kaigaku! I wish we saw a lot more of him than we did in canon. Tbh I love everything about his story line, from his history with Gyomei, to constantly berating Zenitsu for being a coward, to becoming a demon due to his own cowardice. I just really wish we got to see a lot more of his own introspection on it all, rather than so much of his story through Zenitsu and Kokushibo's eyes, ya know? But yeah, he's a fun character to mess around with! Lots of potential for sure!

[disast3rtransp0rt]

religious trauma and star wars discourse: an inside perspective

I see a lot of posts like “You can’t blame the Jedi for Anakin’s downfall! They did everything they could for him and he chose to be fucking stupid!”

And sure, yeah, I see your point. But not everyone has read the novelizations and not everyone will (myself included) for one reason or another, and their opinions are based solely on the text and subtext provided by the films. 

So consider this perspective from someone who was raised in a strict Evangelical household and is still working through a lot of religious trauma: Anakin Falls because he feels trapped by the Order and their expectations, which is a nuanced and complicated issue depending on which textual source we decide to pull from. 

Anakin Skywalker was a little boy who’d been freed from slavery by a Jedi Knight, a group of warriors and protectors that he looked up to. That same Knight was then threatened with eviction from the Order for helping rescue, just so we don’t forget, a literal child slave. Of course Anakin’s going to feel indebted to Qui-Gon and to the Order for letting them both stay (and then additionally for letting Obi-Wan train him after Qui-Gon’s death). 

He sees everything transactionally. That’s how he was raised. No matter how much meditation you do, some of the Council were right: He was too old to let that shit go. And there wasn’t enough time in his teenage years to process it properly before the Clone Wars began.

He has to step up to the plate and become the Hero With No Fear. He’s the Chosen One, the son of the Force. His body isn’t entirely his anymore, because it’s been commodified and claimed by the Jedi Order (whether or not they realize or acknowledge it). 

So, as someone who was raised to identify hardcore with the ideology that sex = gender (which I no longer subscribe to at all), I was treated very differently from my brothers as a kid. I was always in the kitchen, always watching the babies, always cleaning the dishes etc. 

But high value was placed on my usefulness as a “nurturer”, so I felt validated. This was good work. I was doing something helpful. I was being good in the way the people surrounding me expected. Until I got old enough to understand how exploitative and shitty Evangelicalism is and got the fuck away. 

Can you see how I might relate to Anakin, then? How it might be hard to have incredible pressure placed on you to serve serve serve all the time, even though you were supposed to be free from that? No time to breathe, rules that dictate private areas of one’s life... Kinda like his childhood but just a little bit different.

Of course he’s going to want to rebel, but that guilt and that debt is so deep under his skin that he can’t shake it. Can’t let it go. If he’d been able to sit down and process the issues he faced as a child, without fighting a war as a slightly larger child, then maybe... I don’t know. Maybe he wouldn’t have Fallen. 

Maybe he simply would have said his thanks, said his goodbyes, and left to raise his children with his wife. 

But I was lucky enough to escape to college and outgrow the idea that my body would always be some kind of bargaining chip. I let go of the ideology I’d been raised with because there was space enough to work through my childhood bullshit. Anakin doesn’t have that luxury in canon. He’s got shit to do.

And as someone who still has issues eating dinner before my boyfriend after almost 6 years of therapy and a ton of self-discovery, that guilt-and-debt feeling I mentioned can hit hard. And it’s tough to get rid of. I’m still working on that at age 26. 

So yeah, I don’t particularly care for the Jedi Order. 

I don’t care that other people do like them, of course. I know it’s all just fiction and these are a bunch of made up dudes in costumes running around a set. It’s just been tough to read a lot of these posts that are so pro-Jedi from a context that I do not have or wish to have (the novels) and feel excluded or invalidated.

Anyway.

Thank you for coming to my literary analysis. 

[lethargicsunlight]

'Demon': Prologue ♡ BakugouXFem!Reader (Book 1)

Alright I'm doing it.

I'm doing the thing.

It literally keeps me awake at night I gotta write thisss *cough* okay

Originally I was only going to post this unto Wattpad, but getting traction on their website is a little more difficult than good ole' Tumblr, so I'll be posting it on both. Feel free to visit my Wattpad here: LINK if you want to support my writing on that end. (I would so appreciate it)

This post is going to run pretty long, as it will host both the prologue of the story and my author's notes. Just a heads up.

Summery:

A slow-burn action/romance where you begin in the bowels of a Villain base and rise up to join U.A.'s top Hero Class. This life was your choice. In the event of learning then losing the love of a friend, you make a decision that changes your reality at the core--to become an imposter among villains and bring them down from the inside out. The organization that ruined your premature perfect life was known as H.H., after their leader Head-Honcho. His crime of choice: intelligence. Training and conducting espionage agents and assassins across Japan as a means to further the dark underground network. Your training began at thirteen, after managing to impress the multi-faced villain with your stealth and your conviction. Rumors would soon spread through the dark alleys of Naruhata City of a masked assassin known as Demon, whose bare face could steal the souls of her targets. Everything appears to be going to plan; but the Hero Agencies you've been slipping information to are calling for an end to your superior sooner than you had anticipated. Your time as 'Demon' is limited. What will happen when your world comes crashing down? Where will you go, when everything you had known you helped to destroy?

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This is a slow burn fan-fic; and I am not italicizing those words without reason. This is going to be an agonizingly slow action-packed adventure-romance. This is a self-insert story, just like my three-part series 'Some Combat Training' (link) where you as the protagonist will not be described outside of being female, general physique, and a generalization of your uniform(s). Skin, hair, eyes, etc. will not be described at all--besides ambiguous adjectives. That said, I am taking liberties with physique and stature due to the nature of the story. You're abilities rely on stealth as well as close and fast combat, therefore you are described as 'small', 'lithe', 'athletic', and all of those other fancy little ninja woman words. Your personality has been shaped by the events of your life and the people within it; but if I were to describe it I would choose words like: Intelligent, determined, self-sacrificing, quiet, humble, and studious. The story will follow along with the anime for the most part starting at around the time of the USJ event, though at some point the story will branch off and become more my original concoction. (Such as, fast-forwarding the time-line to when the characters are older.) Some information about you as the protagonist will not be written here, as I plan for those to be revelations within the story. There will be angst, blood and gore, adult-humor, trauma, death, bad language and warnings will be listed with each chapter as needed. Feel free to comment on those chapters as soon as you see something that isn't mentioned that might make someone (if not yourself) feel uncomfortable. I will not be offended. This story is meant to get a little dark. Please comment if you can about your opinions! I have never posted an on-going fic before, and anything you have to say I would appreciate! <3 Now, please enjoy this short prologue~ Chapter 1 is being reviewed and edited, to be release very soon! 👹🖤⛓🔪💣 ...four...five...six.. You counted the footsteps behind your left ear, round the corner of the dim abandoned subway. You'd been stationary; still so long that your digits had all but numbed. Turn... one...two...three... The footsteps were distancing from the hall your attention had been set upon. A T-section, where the entity had gone down and away from your destination. You had to cross that 'T' to get to the junction--where you needed to leave a note completely undetected. The slightest mis-step would lead to suspicion. Suspicion would lead to investigation. Investigation lead to the five percent chance they could find that note--and no percentage was too small. It all hinged on absolute perfection. Nine...ten...eleven... This was their fifth round. A patrol. You had to make sure their movement were predictable before this would work--despite having successfully delivered the note fourty-two times and counting--you did not have the luxury of assumption. Only if their stride was even, only if you absolutely knew they were moving at a certain pattern, could you depend on the following information: It took fifteen steps before they would reach the broken light on their route. The haze of the dust and pollutants reflected in the working lights prior to that was your cover. Cross the 'T', leave the note, and cross it again. Out of sight and out of earshot, mission successful. Fourteen... f-- You turn, and it takes three steps to arrive at the drop to the tracks. You bunch and leap, and even the quietest friction of fabric from your uniform creases your brow. You land, just outside of the light's reach on the thin concrete slab beyond. Your eyes track the metals, the jutting wall tiles; that with which the barest touch could emit a sound--and you maneuver around them. Under, creeping low--and over, leaping to land on the balls of your feet and checking your balance before moving forward. Careful to not cast a shadow into the hall. Paced, so as not to move too quickly nor too slowly. Counting, because every second was controlled and calculated. You reach the juncture, and once again

edging the light you propel yourself to land back on the main thoroughfare. The next obstacle--removing the loose brick. Behind a metal bench centered between two closed-in stair cases, where the tile meets what had once been a decorative brick mosaic; eight bricks right and eighteen bricks up, was your note's destination. Just above your head, where you had to bend at an awkward angle to reach. Not practical, less detectable. You're wearing tight fabric gloves with grips on the pads, but thin enough you can feel the texture of the brick as you gently lace your fingers at each of the corners. Lifting, centering, and pulling the brick from its slot. Holding it just right, you can avoid the loud scrapes and grinds--but you have to hold it perfectly centered. Success. In goes the note. As does the brick, back into the wall. But you're only half-way done. Leap. Quiet, maneuver, avoid, measure. Silent. Leap. Hide. You're back is once again at the wall, the footsteps of the lackey you'd been avoiding closing in proximity to the Hall you'd just left. Four... five... six... Your eyes focus on the wall opposite of you as you ground yourself. The next few seconds determined a new reality. Either they followed their pattern, or they didn't. You had to be flexible. No assumptions. If they move towards the junction, you have to follow. If they move towards you, you'd calculate on your feet. Seven... eight... nine.. Turn. ...one...two...three.. You don't relax. Even after you count their steps to fifteen, even as you slip away back through the hall, even as you exit the unattended vent and breathe in fresh air--you don't relax until you're sitting on the floor in your room, calming down, your mask in your hands. After checking to make sure your door had not been opened, and no one had looked for you. No tracks in the dust. Only then do you allow yourself to ruminate on the contents of the note you had written, because you could still see every letter of it in your mind. ------ 55-1, Minami Senju 5-chome, Musutafu Target: Fukui Mitsuo Floor 8 3 AM. 7. Accompanied. Head. ------ For the briefest moment, you feel your hands shake. They always did on these nights. Realistically, you'd left no openings. Tested and re-tested every method. Calculated every movement. Left nothing to chance. But the 'what-if's' still linger, and you let them. The fear is good. It keeps you on your toes, your mind on edge, your tongue to the roof of your mouth. If he found out, you wouldn't know it until it was over. So you pretended he already did. Below you, underground in his base, plotting how to get at you when you were most vulnerable. Tear you to pieces, throw you in a pit or in a cage. No--too risky, he'd just kill you. A dead-end is better than a possibility. You'd learned that from him. You swallow, head turning so the amber morning sky is in your peripheral. All things considered, you would still unfortunately need sleep. You cherished the brief moments of sunlight and let your mind swim in the memories of your childhood spent in the daytime; before retiring to the broken and borrowed mattress. Seven days. You would check the location of your note in two. If there is another note in response, you would create a reactionary plan. The pattern continues. Until he finds out. ...Until he finds out.

[vivithefolle]

Vivs, I came across this from a "Ron's a jealous slacker" fan, please use your expertness to contradict this stupid statement. Y do ron stans refuse to accept that he just wanted attention without actually doing any hardwork! Didn't he just desire being a headboy & a quidditch captain? He would have achieved it if he would stop being a self piting, lazy person & actually study or practice to achieve his dreams! he doesn't deserve any sympathy we live in actual world where hardwork matters only.

The funniest thing about this is that they’re actually talking about Harry.

Harry actually never did put in effort to achieve things. Except this once when he mastered the Patronus at 13, we’ll give him that. But Quidditch? Oh he just hops on a broom and woah suddenly he’s flying so well he’s in the Quidditch team and gets a great broom and is totally the bestest and a total fucking Mary Sue! Fighting against Voldemort? Well thank god for Loveus Ex Machina that always saves your ass without ever making you lift a finger ever! And how he defeated Voldemort too? With a spell he learned in second year and he only won that fight because ~surprise~ Voldemort’s wand wasn’t okay with killing Harry for bullshit plot reasons. Amazing. Wonderful. Inspiring. Our hero, everyone, never actually worked for anything a day in his life, ever.

Meanwhile Ron? Actually worked hard to get on the Quidditch team, which was something he dreamed of. Actually moved his ass to learn to fight and didn’t have the luxury of ~lurrrrve~ to excuse him out of fights.  Ron actually did MORE than Harry ever did, but of course, protagonist-centred favouritism paired with mindless Harmonian propaganda won’t let you realize that because it’s just so much easier to imagine yourself as ~the special one :))~.

...

Ron is lazy you say.

Did he really believe he was better than Ron? No, said the small voice defiantly. Was that true? Harry wondered, anxiously probing his own feelings. I’m better at Quidditch, said the voice. But I’m not better at anything else. That was definitely true, Harry thought; he was no better than Ron in lessons. But what about outside lessons? What about those adventures he, Ron, and Hermione had had together since they had started at Hogwarts, often risking much worse than expulsion? Well, Ron and Hermione were with me most of the time, said the voice in Harry’s head. - Order of the Phoenix, chapter 9

Harry must be lazy too then.

Ah, but Harry’s word isn’t enough, since, after all, he does say himself that Hermione is like his sister, yet there’s a bunch of irreducible folks who insist on disregarding their hero’s agency whenever it is convenient for them. Therefore let’s go grab quotes that will settle the matter once and for all:

Ron had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal. When he wasn't doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology and Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality. He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks. - Prisoner of Azkaban, chapter 15

Doing his own work AND working on something that won’t give him extra credit once Hermione finally swallowed her pride and apologized (for the first and last time in the books). But yeah totally lazy blah blah blah.

“But what have you got your broom for, you haven’t been flying, have you?” Harry asked. “I — well — well, okay, I’ll tell you, but don’t laugh, all right?” Ron said defensively, turning redder with every second. “I-I thought I’d try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I’ve got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh.” &#145;“I’m not laughing,” said Harry. Ron blinked. “It’s a brilliant idea! It’d be really cool if you got on the team! I’ve never seen you play Keeper, are you good?” “I’m not bad,” said Ron, who looked immensely relieved at Harry’s reaction. “Charlie, Fred, and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays.” “So you’ve been practicing tonight?” “Every evening since Tuesday... just on my own, though, I’ve been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn’t been easy and I don’t know how much use it’ll be.” Ron looked nervous and anxious. “Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven’t stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect.” - Order of the Phoenix, chapter 13

……………. Well damn. Remember how hard Harry had to train to get the Seeker position?

Oh that’s right, I forgot: HE DIDN’T! Because Chosen One Boy-Who-Lived poor orphan protagonist blah blah.

Ron though? Ron WORKED to get his position. Ron practiced, Ron worked out a way to practice alone by enchanting stuff to fly to him. When did Harry do that? Ah yes, he didn’t, because he had Oliver coaching him so he never had to figure out how to train by himself.

Meanwhile Ron was reading two years of Charms notes with his fingers in his ears, his lips moving soundlessly; Seamus was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm, while Dean checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Parvati and Lavender, who were practicing basic loco-motion charms, were making their pencil cases race each other around the edge of the table. Dinner was a subdued affair that night. Harry and Ron did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day. Hermione, on the other hand, kept putting down her knife and fork and diving under the table for her bag, from which she would seize a book to check some fact or figure. Ron was just telling her that she ought to eat a decent meal or she would not sleep that night, when her fork slid from her limp fingers and landed with a loud tinkle on her plate. - Order of the Phoenix, chapter 31

Another one for “EW FOOD HOW DARE THESE TEENAGERS EAT, DISGUSTING”, and also oh, surprise, Ron actually worked. Incredible. Can you believe. Isn’t he supposed to be lazy. Woah. I totally and utterly did not expect this at all.

Of course I must bring up something else -

“How many hours d’you think you’re doing a day?” he demanded of Harry and Ron as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes. “I dunno,” said Ron. “A few...” “More or less than eight?” “Less, I s’pose,” said Ron, looking slightly alarmed. “I’m doing eight,” said Ernie, puffing out his chest. “Eight or nine. &#145;I’m getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eight’s my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday — only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday —” - Order of the Phoenix, chapter 31

Okay first off - Ron estimates his study time to be “a few [hours]”. That’s more than I ever did for my own exams and wouldn’t you know it, I passed them.

Second off: THIS CONVERSATION IS CLEARLY MEANT TO BE HUMOROUS AND YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE THE SAME REACTION AS RON.

As in “holy shit this guy is insane”.

To top it off, here’s also Harry’s reaction in case some people still care about their hero’s agency:

Harry was deeply thankful that Professor Sprout ushered them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to abandon his recital.

Harry isn’t impressed. Harry isn’t awed. Harry isn’t filled with sudden godly inspiration to “ditch Ron and join a study group and become the smartestest in the school!!!”

No, Harry doesn’t care for studying and spending hours bending over a book. Harry would like to pass his exams and then never think about them again.

But the only thing Harry felt he was really good at was Quidditch. In the end, he chose the same new subjects as Ron, feeling that if he was lousy at them, at least he’d have someone friendly to help him. - Chamber of Secrets

Harry wouldn’t have expected Ron to help him had Ron never helped him before. So we can extrapolate that not only does Ron does his homework, but he will also take time and effort to help Harry out if need be.

But of course Harry doesn’t need or care for Ron totally absolutely of course yes. (Another one for the “Harry picks Ron over Hermione” guys!!! Canon is on our side, sorry not sorry!)

...

Also, let it be said:

we live in actual world where hardwork matters only

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah.

Look at Kim Kardashian, at Donald Trump, at basically any billionaire. Did they really do any hard work, or did they build their whole career out of exploitation, cheap scandals and their parents’ already-existing fortune?

In our world, Harry would be rich because Mummy and Daddy left him a trust fund, Hermione would have Mummy and Daddy’s money to help her get by until she can find some dead-end job she hates because the job market is shit, and poor Ron would be stuck in poverty because he was poor to begin with and getting out of poverty is much, much harder than getting rich.

[stardustryewriting]

A Learning Process (4)

AO3 Link: here

Part 1 2 3 5

Labyrinth Learning

Bakugou knew a few things for certain. He knew that he hated nothing more than Deku’s incessant mumbling. He knew that he was both academically smart and physically gifted and that his weakest point was teamwork. He knew that he did nothing wrong during the sports festival because while Uraraka might have been squeamish about using her quirk to its full potential, she wasn’t fragile. (Even calling her squeamish was a bit of an exaggeration.)

And he knew, with a certainty of one-hundred percent that right in this moment, he’d rather be anywhere else. How Monoma of all people managed to corner him, he still wasn’t sure.

But there he was, the last one in the 1-A changing room and somehow unfortunate enough to be right in Monoma’s vision, when he passed by. That idiot should be hurrying along to the training ground, as should Bakugou himself. He risked running late, while normally he was the first one on the scene. The only reason why he still was in the changing room in the first place was to avoid Kirishima. Of course. 

Maybe Monoma could be a great distraction. Or maybe, Bakugou would get expelled from U.A., because he blew the idiot up for good. There was really no telling how this would go. 

“It’s a shame this is no joint training, we would beat you for good this time, class A”, Monoma taunted in his annoying mocking voice that was probably supposed to make him intimidating. The only thing it accomplished was making Bakugou aggressive. Monoma was working hard towards getting blown up. Bakugou refused to take the obvious bait. 

“We wiped the floor with you last time, and we can do it again”, he answered, not looking away from his locker, where he neatly put away the rest of his school uniform. No one could call him a slob. 

“You got lucky. We took out both of your recommended students, remember?”

And just as Bakugou was about to argue, that both of 1-B’s recommended students also went down, and more importantly, getting in on recommandation didn’t mean jack shit in the hero course, they were both interrupted by a third voice. A voice Bakugou had hoped to avoid for just a little bit longer. 

“Bakugou”, Kirishima called down the hall, blissfully oblivious to Bakugou’s inner struggle, “Aizawa is really not liking having to wait for you.” Which was probably a nice way of saying Bakugou would be on trash duty again, if he didn’t move his ass soon. But going silently now, would be admitting defeat to Monoma, and Bakugou would rather listen to Deku ramble about a bunch of lesser known heroes than do that. Which was saying something, because Bakugou really hated listening to Deku mumbling about anything. 

Monoma beat him to the punch yet again.

“Better go quick, he already sent your boyfriend after you.”

“What did you say?”, Bakugou roared, undoubtedly to be heard even on the training ground where he currently kept everyone waiting. He couldn’t care less. Trash duty be damned, Monoma had no right to assume anything and even less right to mock him. Bakugou would make him regret the day he was born. 

“Bakugou?”, Kirishima questioned and Bakugou could see his flaming red hair in his peripheral vision. He ignored him.

“Oh, sore point?”, Monoma continued mocking, also not paying attention to Kirishima, even though he had placed himself strategically between Bakugou and Monoma to avoid the worst, quirk activated on his arms, because he knew Bakugou well. He was trying to lock eyes with Bakugou, which he avoided for several reasons. Mostly, because he wanted to continue giving Monoma his best death stare. Minorly because he couldn’t look at Kirishima right now.

“Didn’t mean to insinuate anything”, Monoma said with a fake innocence that even Todoroki could have pointed out, “It’s just the impression you give off.” He had the audacity to laugh at his own joke and Bakugou swore he would kill that bastard with his own two hands. He barely registered Kirishima grabbing his arms to prevent him from storming to attack Monoma. 

Unfortunately Kendo appeared faster than he could free himself. Or fortunately, for Monoma.

“I’m sorry about him”, she apologized with practised ease, bowing before them, after she had struck him down. Monoma was pathetically whimpering on the ground, mumbling something Bakugou didn’t understand, but Kendo hit him again, so he was sure it was something unpleasant. Like everything that left Monoma’s mouth. Kendo dragged him off, then, without paying any mind to his continued babbling and only after they were gone from sight did Kirishima let go of him.

“Dude, what did he say that made you so aggressive?”, Kirishima questioned after giving Bakugou a few seconds to compose himself, which did effectively nothing to calm him down. The question, on the other hand, did sober him up pretty effectively. No way could he tell Kirishima what Monoma was talking about. There was also no way he could come up with a plausible lie that fast.

“Nothing important”, he muttered, instead of giving a real answer. He wanted to hit himself for that instantly. Kirishima wasn’t going to let that slide. 

“No way”, Kirishima exclaimed instantly, because of course he wasn’t going to let Bakugou get out easily. He should have thought faster.

“Come on, we’re missing training”, he said instead, in hopes of a distraction working better than his shitty excuses. It did.

“Oh shit, training”, Kirishima yelled, dashing off and Bakugou mentally prepared himself for the scolding he was sure to receive from both Aizawa and Iida. At least he could bite back at one of them. He hadn’t clashed with Iida in a while. Maybe he could use it to get rid of some of the frustration, too. 

__________________

Training had proved to be everything Bakugou needed. He had tuned out Aizawa’s lecture about being on time and not letting himself get provoked this easily with practiced ease and had been on the field with the rest of his class in basically no time. There he had sought out challenges, both posed by staff and his classmates with no time to cool down between them, going at his limit and beyond that. 

Now that he was back in his dorm room, he could feel every bone, every muscle in his body, all aching and demanding a break. A reminder that he worked harder than he ever had before. All of them felt heavy, everytime he moved to get something or change position and for the first time that day his head was free of any worries. No weird unexplainable feelings, no sunshine-Kirishima, not even thoughts of murdering Monoma. 

Just him and his aching body, after a perfectly satisfactional training. He could get used to that. 

Of course he wasn’t afforded that luxury.

A knock on his door ended his solitude way too early and Bakugou had to repress a groan while he moved off of his bed. He didn’t know which extra had the guts to disturb him, but they didn’t have to know how his body was aching. It was satisfactory to him, but the wrong person could see it as a cause for concern. Or even worse, as a weakness. He couldn’t possibly let anyone think he was weak.

Behind the door stood Kirishima, because of course it was Kirishima who wanted something from him right now. It seemed like it always was Kirishima these days. Or maybe it has always been Kirishima, the voice in his head said and Bakugou noticed that he hadn’t heard that voice in a while. He couldn’t exactly say he missed it. He resisted the urge to slam his head against the wall and instead looked at Kirishima. Which he regretted almost immediately.

Kirishima looked like he came fresh out of the shower, hair still wet at the tips and down like he usually never wore it, while the sun was still up. There was a towel slung over his shoulder, which seemed to be at least damp and Bakugou could see bruises beginning to form on the knuckles of the hand which clasped the towel. (Kirishima had thrown some pretty good punches during training. Not that Bakugou had been paying attention to that.) He looked really good. Bakugou chose to ignore that to the best of his ability. 

“We need to talk”, Kirishima stated, more seriously than Bakugou could ever remember Kirishima being while standing in his door after a shower. The seriousness in his voice helped ignoring whatever was currently forming inside his stomach - a weird bubbly feeling that Bakugou couldn’t attribute to anything - but still Bakugou didn’t trust his voice so he just motioned for Kirishima to come in. 

He let himself fall on his bed with a groan, because even though Kirishima was his main cause for trouble these days, he would at least never think bad about that. He knew how to appreciate a good work-out, especially a good post-workout bliss at least as much as Bakugou did. They always have been on the same wave-length in that regard. 

Kirishima took a seat in Bakugou’s desk chair, aimlessly spinning from side to side for a few seconds. Bakugou knew it meant he was collecting his thoughts, so he didn’t comment about it, even though it was a bit irritating. Cute, the voice in his head chimed in and he tried to think about what he did to get rid of that one last time. He couldn’t remember. 

“What was this with Monoma?”, Kirishima finally asked, looking at Bakugou like he could read the answer from his facial expression alone. He probably couldn’t, at least Bakugou prayed he couldn’t or he would have to bury himself six feet deep. Right after he buried Monoma at least twenty feet deep. 

“You know the bastard, he was looking for a fight”, Bakugou answered, hoping against hope that Kirishima would be satisfied with that answer. He knew it was futile - he surely wouldn’t be content with an answer like that and neither would Kirishima be - but he had to try at least. Under no circumstances would Bakugou tell him the truth. 

“Yeah, he always is”, Kirishima agreed, in a tone of voice that let Bakugou know a ‘but’ was inevitable, “but you seemed more aggressive than usual. And you’re usually pretty aggressive with Monoma.” And Kirishima was still looking at him, with those damn understanding eyes of his that made lying to him so hard. Not impossible though, nothing was impossible for the future number one hero. 

“It was just a stupid taunt, don’t make a big deal out of it!”, he argued back, stubbornly meeting Kirishima’s eyes because he’d be damned if he was the first to look away. He was the future number one, not some kind of weakling who couldn’t even face his own best friend, because of something mildly uncomfortable someone else said. 

“If it was stupid, you should be able to tell me”, Kirishima debated, looking triumphant, even tho his leg was moving the chair again. A sure sign he was nervous, Bakugou knew, while simultaneously ignoring the voice in his head asking how he knew that. He also ignored that it started to sound like Monoma. That was a problem for another time. 

Right now, there was the problem of preventing Kirishima from finding out that Monoma called him Bakugou’s boyfriend. Because while there was a rational part in Bakugou’s brain that said Kirishima would probably only laugh it off, there was a way bigger part of Bakugou’s brain alarming him that this could be the first step to Kirishima finding out about all his struggles of the past days. That couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. 

“He said something, it was stupid. I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“What did he say that you can’t tell me about?”, Kirishima said, stressing the word me in a way that would make Bakugou feel guilty, if he were any less mortified. Kirishima couldn’t know. He couldn’t.

“Just drop it! You don’t need to know everything”, Bakugou yelled and Kirishima actually physically recoiled. He tried to mask it with mockingly raised hands and a playful smile, but Bakugou saw how he flinched. He hated himself for that. 

“Okay”, Kirishima agreed, with a too quiet voice, “I won’t ask about it anymore. Sorry for bothering you.”

And before Bakugou could say something - not that he knew what he could’ve said - Kirishima was out of his desk chair and his room, leaving behind a heavy silence. A few water drops on the backrest of his chair were the only proof that he was actually there.

__________________

Kirishima knew he should let it be. If Bakugou didn’t want him to know, he probably had good reason to and prying would be a sign of bad friendship. But there was a curiosity that he couldn’t seem to shake no matter how hard he tried. Because while Bakugou usually reacted pretty violently to Monoma, today he had been almost feral. Kirishima would know, because he was usually the one that restrained Bakugou in these situations.

So he did what no good friend would do and went behind Bakugou’s back. Which sounded a lot more dramatic than it actually was, because he only texted Tetsutetsu to ask for a favor. Ten minutes and a promise of yes, he would bring the snacks for their next gaming marathon later, he got the answer he was looking for. 

He wasn’t actually so sure he was looking for the answer, anymore. 

Tetsutetsu had done what any good friend would have done and went to ask Monoma personally. Kirishima knew he couldn’t get mad, Tetsutetsu didn’t know he was opening Pandora’s box and Kirishima had asked, after all. He wished he didn’t.

He called you Bakugou’s boyfriend. Bakugou really didn’t seem to like that.

The second sentence was unwarranted, yes. But Tetsutetsu had no idea about the feelings Kirishima had been harboring for the better part of the year by now. He was most likely just relaying the information Monoma had given him. Information that Kirishima had specifically asked for. Even though now he wished he didn’t. 

Bakugou must really hate the thought of anything other than friendship with Kirishima, if that was his reaction to a simple taunt. Kirishima felt his chest constrict painfully, as if someone had his heart in their hands and they were squeezing relentlessly. He felt that empty feeling in his stomach, felt it dropping several miles and the traitorous pressure behind his eyes. 

He tried to take a deep breath, to ground himself again. It came out shaky and he felt himself tremble before he saw it. His eyes watered slowly, making whatever third text Tetsutetsu had sent unreadable and Kirishima threw his phone away. He dropped himself unceremoniously on his bed, sought refuge under his covers and abandoned the thought of doing anything else. He had good reason to cry.

Kirishima always feared he stood no chance. Now he had proof. 

__________________

Two days after their weird post-training talk, that wasn't even really an argument - at least not to Bakugou - Kirishima was back to normal. Why he was acting strangely the day before eluded Bakugou, but he wasn't about to complain. It was actually good for him. Not good in a sense that Kirishima was acting weird around him by avoiding him to the best of his ability. Good in a sense that it gave Bakugou more time to sort through his mess, without worrying about their mess. Not that he made any mentionable progress.  

He did mull over the idea of calling Kirishima his boyfriend. After an internal wrestle match with his pride, but nonetheless. It was something. 

More importantly, it was something that he realized, he didn’t hate. He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that. Or mostly, he wasn’t sure if that meant some deeper feelings or just some passing infatuation. If it even was an infatuation. This whole maybe-feelings mess was a whole lot more complicated than it had any right to be. 

Even worse, Bakugou was all out of potential resources he could consult on the matter. Admittedly the list wasn’t very long (or promising) to begin with, but still. He’d like to have something or someone to consult right now.

(He briefly played with the thought of asking Mina, because with her interest in all matters romantic she was bound to have at least an opinion, but telling Mina would mean all the other girls knowing too and Bakugou would rather blast his own leg away, before he let that happen.) 

So really his options at this point were non-existent and the only alternative he had was mulling it over in his own head. He could already see this failing miserably.

__________________

Kirishima had allowed himself one day to mourn his chances with Bakugou. He knew from the start that they were zero anyway and the only reason he was hurt was because he’d let himself believe otherwise. So really, it was no one’s fault but his own. 

Avoiding Bakugou wasn’t even as hard as he had initially thought it would be. Mostly because Bakugou tended to avoid him too, and Kirishima couldn’t help but think that maybe, after what happened the other day, a cooldown was mutually beneficial. Granted, Kirishima got his hopes crushed so painfully that it physically hurt, while Bakugou was just disgusted about a passing thought, but still. 

He firmly believed a day without the other was good for both of them. 

Which was something he would have argued with, even a week ago. But things had changed very rapidly and Kirishima wasn’t even sure what was going on currently. He was sure that he didn’t necessarily want to know. Maybe it was for the best to remain in the dark about some things. Especially if they overwhelmed even someone like Bakugou. 

That was another thing that Kirishima had to tackle eventually. Trying to get Bakugou to admit what had him on the edge like that and then helping him work through it. He was Bakugou’s best friend, after all, even if it hurt thinking about their relationship like that, currently. Friendship wasn’t something to easily abandon just because someone caught some unintentional feelings. 

So after his one day cooldown, he gathered all of his nerves, mustered his best smile (that me might have practiced in the mirror the night before) and approached Bakugou with the same energy he always did. Because there was no reason to change anything. Not from Kirishima’s side of the story. 

“Hey Bro”, he greeted, with exactly the same cheer he usually did, because he’d be damned if he let Bakugou catch even a sniff of something being wrong. He saw Kaminari looking at them weirdly out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. Kaminari had too much respect for Bakugou to bring up anything anyways. And by the time he could catch Kirishima alone to ask about it, he’d have a good excuse ready. Or, even better, a distraction. It would all work out. 

Bakugou grunted at him in acknowledgement which wasn’t out of the ordinary either, so Kirishima internally marked step one as successful. Faking being normal to achieve normalcy wasn’t the reinvention of the wheel, but it wasn’t easy either. He was pretty proud of himself. 

Now it was time for step number two: Being a good friend. And good friends helped their friends with working through their problems, even if said friends didn’t realize they wanted help. Bakugou was never good at accepting help and that never stopped Kirishima. He wasn’t about to give up now. 

“You know, you’re acting weird lately”, he approached cautiously, because he knew it was a sore point. He also knew that Bakugou wouldn’t admit that what Monoma - or even Todoroki - said bothered him. Bakugou’s pride was at least the size of his ego and that was saying something, if even Kirishima who usually argued in Bakugou’s favor could admit that. Then again, maybe always seeing the best in Bakugou was a side effect of that troublesome crush he had.

“Yeah, don’t think about it too much”, Bakugou answered, in that half-annoyed-half-venomous tone that he always used, when he wanted to be left alone. Kirishima knew it too well, both from hearing him use it with other people and from being on the receiving end of it. It never stopped him before and he wouldn’t let it stop him now. Even if there was a sharp pain in his chest, he smiled through it. 

Fake it ‘till you make it. Or however that saying went. 

“Something on your mind?”, he asked playfully, instead of responding to Bakugou’s statement, because he knew a bit of provocation usually helped loosen Bakugou’s tongue. And his willingness to use his quirk, but Kirishima could counter that with his own. They were compatible like that. 

The thought that they were only compatible like that, was shoved somewhere in the back of his mind, where, hopefully, it would rot and wither away. And with a tiny amount of luck and a bit of time, the rest of his crush would follow suit. It felt unrealistic, but a guy could hope.

“Yeah actually”, Bakugou admitted, shocking Kirishima into silence and making him lose control over his facial features for a bit. He couldn’t help it, he just wasn’t expecting Bakugou suddenly being so openly honest. He was prepared to work harder for that. “Don’t mind. It’s just a fucking mess.”

“Maybe a friend can help”, he heard himself say, absently realising that this talk was going nowhere close to the way he had imagined it. Which was dangerous, because now they were in a situation he wasn’t prepared for. If he slipped up, that might be the end for both him personally and their friendship.

“Yeah sure”, Bakugou snorted with sarcasm that wasn’t lost on Kirishima and he saw his chance to move their talk into safer territory again. He could deal with sarcastic, disbelieving Bakugou. He had done it before. 

Just as he was about to shoot something back about him being way better at interpersonal relationships than Bakugou - something that in hindsight could have gotten them into dangerous waters again - Aizawa shot down his chance by entering the classroom and beginning his lesson. 

So, no talk with Bakugou then. Kirishima didn’t mind too much, he was sure he would get another chance after school.

__________________ 

“Bakugou”, Aizawa said, while everyone was packing their things to get out of the school for good, “stay. We have to talk.”

Bakugou didn’t like a thing about this. Not the strangely stern voice in which he said it and not the look he got, when he looked up to meet Aizawa’s eyes. He felt like he was in trouble. It was ridiculous, the worst thing he had done all week was argue with Monoma and then coming too late to the training grounds and he’d already gotten his lecture for that. (He almost got a second one from Iida, but he ignored him and just went to his room.) So Aizawa should have nothing bad up his sleeve for him. 

How wrong he was. 

“You have been distracted all week and a part of last week, too”, Aizawa started, like he was trying to breach a topic, he wasn’t quite sure how to breach. Bakugou tried to defend himself, arguing that he was achieving the same grades and results in training as he usually did, but Aizawa raised his hand to stop him, when he opened his mouth. “Just let me say my piece and then I’ll listen to your side of the story.” 

Aizawa sighed deeply and then a look settled on his face. Like he'd rather be anywhere else. Bakugou had half the mind to remind that this whole talk was his idea, but he thought better of it. Better not to irritate Aizawa when he was already looking like he was ready to murder someone.  

"Look, I know you're at that age when hormones go crazy and you only really think about one thing." 

Now Bakugou felt like he'd rather be anywhere else. Why did Aizawa think he needed to have that talk with any of his students, much less Bakugou? Worse yet, was he really distracted enough that Aizawa, notoriously uninvolved in his students' private antics, felt the need to talk to Bakugou about potential romantic feelings. (And probably sex too, but Bakugou wisely chose to ignore that part.)

“I’m not thinking about -”, he gestured wildly with his hands, both to get his point across and so he didn’t have to say it in front of his teacher, “that. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be your concern.”

“It is, if it potentially puts you in danger”, Aizawa argued, strangely calm, while Bakugou himself felt like tearing something up or blasting something into tiny pieces. He knew he couldn’t, he already made contact with Aizawa’s capture scarf once and he wasn’t keen on a repetition, but the urge was still there. 

“What do you even know about that?”, Bakugou yelled, both out of frustration and pent up anger and Aizawa didn’t even reprimand him for that. He just smirked self-satisfied, which was almost worse because now Bakugou was either going to get some vague excuse or a story he really didn’t want to hear. He didn’t know what was worse.

“I was your age too, once. And I also had feelings I didn’t want to be true and they almost cost me an arm on one of my work studies, because I was distracted. So it’s fair to say I have my fair share of experience with that.”

That was more information than Bakugou ever thought he would get. It was also way more information than he had asked for. He’d already opened his mouth to complain, when something else dawned on him. 

Aizawa wasn’t exactly emotionally available either. He once overheard one of the girls saying that dating a guy like Aizawa must be a project, because getting him to show emotion must be an accomplishment all on its own. He thought it was stupid then, so he paid it no mind and just continued cooking. It might be useful now. Because Aizawa was one resource he hadn’t yet checked on his quest called ‘Figuring out your feelings’. And much like Bakugou himself (and Todoroki) Aizawa was anything but social and open with his feelings. This might just be what he needed.

If he could bring himself to jump over his shadow. And if he could bring Aizawa to talk to him about it. He wasn’t sure which of these was harder. 

“Who?”, he asked, mostly to stall for time, because he had no idea where to start. How did he manage to stumble from one mess into another without ever seeing them coming?

“Hizashi”, Aizawa answered easily, shrugging like he was talking about the weather and not revealing some of the biggest news in recent memory. Bakugou was sure the girls would have a field trip with that information. 

“Present Mic?”, he exclaimed, still kind of unbelieving, because he couldn’t picture it. Sure they were friends (high school friends, if he were to believe Deku, which was generally not a bad idea, when it concerned hero information), but that was still really unexpected. They definitely didn’t seem like a couple.

“I only call him that at work, but yeah”, Aizawa agreed again, looking amused at Bakugou’s disbelief. 

“You’re dating Present Mic?”, Bakugou clarified again, because he had a hard time wrapping his head around that information. Those two didn’t seem to fit at all. Aizawa prefered the quiet and Present Mic was a loud guy by nature (both in personality and with his quirk). And that was only one of many things that didn’t seem to add up with these two. Not that he was actually putting thought into that. 

“We’re married, actually”, Aizawa corrected and now Bakugou was sure he did it to get a rise out of him. So instead of voicing what he thought, he took a moment to collect himself. He wasn’t going to fall for one of Aizawa’s tricks again.

“So you’re married. Congrats, I guess. Still, I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Did you know that Hizashi gave me my hero name?”, Aizawa asked, instead of answering Bakugou and he could feel himself getting irritated again. What kind of games was his teacher playing here? Why would that be of any relevance?

“So?”, Bakugou pressed, hoping to end this conversation soon. He didn’t care anymore, if Aizawa could be helpful or not, he just wanted to get as far away as possible, before he actually blew something up. That would give him a punishment way worse than trash duty. 

“That was in first year. I’ve already been in love with him then, or else I wouldn’t have taken it. It still took me almost two more years to recognize and own up to my feelings.” 

Bakugou had a feeling there was more behind that story than Aizawa let on, but he wouldn’t press. He knew his teacher was trying to make a point and he was willing to listen some more. He truly was desperate. 

“Look, I don’t presume to decide what’s going on with you, but you should deal with it soon”, Aizawa said finally, and Bakugou tried not to think about how much he sounded like his father, when he was trying to make Bakugou understand why his mother behaved a certain way. That was a truly dangerous train of thought. One that had the power to actually make him sentimental. 

“So what? I’m supposed to make an ass of myself while trying to confess something I can’t even properly name?”, he snapped, revealing way more than he ever intended to. He wished he could take it back, it sounded so pathetic even to his own ears. That certainly wasn’t the way of a hero, much less the number one, the undefeated pro without any weaknesses. That was just a pitiful little high schooler, who didn’t know a thing about the world. He hated that part of himself with a burning passion.

It was the part that brought All Might’s end. And now, it will be the part that makes Bakugou’s life unbearable. 

“No you’re not”, Aizawa replied, with an understanding in his voice that Bakugou loathed almost as much as his own weakness. Aizawa didn’t coddle people. Bakugou didn’t need to be coddled. “You’re supposed to consider what’s in it for you if it works out. And then weigh that against your current situation.”

“And if it works out”, uncertain high school student Bakugou yelled again, “what if I confess and we date and then he decides I’m too much of a mess. That I’m more of a project than a boyfriend. What then?”

“He won’t, if it’s the right one”, Aizawa said, still uncharacteristically open and honest, “I was a project and Hizashi loved me anyways. Nowadays threatening breakup is an inside joke for us.”

“It is?”, Bakugou wondered, not even really as a question to Aizawa. Could there really be someone that looked at all of his emotional unavailability and decided they want that? Could Kirishima do that?

“The last time Hizashi threatened a breakup was over a game of Monopoly”, Aizawa shrugged, looking strangely pleased with himself and Bakugou felt himself set back to a not-so-distant game night. 

“Monopoly?”

“Our game nights get pretty intense, sometimes. We’re both not exactly great losers.”

And now Bakugou really didn’t know what to make out of any of that. Everything was jumbled together in his brain, all of it surrounding an image of Kirishima and Bakugou could feel a headache starting to form, the sides of his forehead throbbing in dull pain. He absently realised that Aizawa had dismissed him and he left the classroom hastily. He didn’t even feel like exercise, he just needed some quiet and peace to think. 

It was ironic how much he needed to think about now, after he spent the majority of the last days thinking about the very same topic. One talk with Aizawa really had opened up a whole new perspective on the whole situation. If he had known his homeroom teacher could be that helpful, he would’ve asked sooner. (No, he wouldn’t have, but still. The food for his thoughts was appreciated.)

He barely registered Kirishima, who had obviously been waiting on Bakugou in the hall. Bakugou duly noted that Kirishima wanted to continue their talk from before class, but he really wasn’t in the state of mind for that. He didn’t even know what he wanted to prevent Kirishima from finding out. Or if he wanted to prevent Kirishima from finding out anything in the first place. 

Once they reached the dorms, with Kirishima still chatting happily and Bakugou unable to focus on even a single word that came out of his mouth, he quickly made up an excuse and vanished into his room for good. He really, really needed some time on his own.

__________________ 

Hours later after replaying and re-replaying everything Aizawa said and comparing it with what happened in the last few days, Bakugou came to two realisations. One, he did, indeed, have romantic feelings for Kirishima, way beyond a simple crush. And two, he had no idea how to deal with that. 

Because how could something, that was this difficult, possibly be right?

[gamergirlshelby]

I was pretty bored earlier so I decided to do some small doodles of Tokiya. I'm gonna have some details under the cut, mainly being some fun facts about Tokiya as a character.

Design Details

Tokiya has a part of his bangs that is always off-white, as well as being spiked in a way it is bunched together while the rest of his hair has a black coloration, and is a lot more fluffy(?). The coloration is switched whenever he is temporarily transformed into an elderly man from overuse of his fast forward.

Tokiya is actually ambidextrous! This is mainly because I like having the possibility of having multiple different angles while posing, so this detail helps quite a bit.

Tokiya had made his hero costume himself, saving up the money to get the needed materials to sew together his own coat, shirt, and make a custom mask. Tokiya had made two variants of his coat, one being lines with fleece on the inside to help keep them warm in the winter months. (Also a side note on the mask, I had adjusted the hands from the original sketch to be more similar to a clock that is set to 1:15 instead of 12:15 so that his signature gray hair spike will be easier to see while he has the mask on)

When Tokiya is fast forwarded to be an old man, his eye brows grow to be very fluffy and large, which is a trait I had based off of the Owl from the Legend of Zelda because I thought it was more creative than just a long gray beard.

Character Facts:

During the Quirk Apprehension Test, Tokiya had used his fast forward on the ball in the ball throw, causing the ball to crash into a somewhat nearby tree, with the ball getting stuck in the tree. Tokiya was able to rewind the tree after he was able to get the ball unstuck, but he was pretty embarrassed about the whole ordeal for the rest of the test.

Rui Iori (伊織類) is Tokiya's mother. She's a quirkless citizen, who runs a clothing store with a majority of its clothes being hand made by her, with the other products consisting of donations from customers who had no longer needed their old clothes. Rui had worked very hard to help provide for Tokiya, always trying to provide for him, even though she can't always offer the most luxurious living situation for them both.

Tokisue Iori (伊織時末), also known as Watchstop the Time Hero, was Tokiya's father, who had passed away during a mission when Tokiya was only around four months old. Tokiya had inherited his quirk from Tokisue, but due to Tokisue's training, he was able to have a better grasp on his power, allowing him to fast forward and reverse objects without experiencing severe side effects like Tokiya does. Because of his skill and control over his quirk, he was able to save a lot of people in his life time, getting him into the top 200 of Japan's most popular heroes. This has caused Tokiya to be recognized as his father's son by his fathers fans on a handful of occasions.

And Lastly, Child Tokiya would definitely call Old Tokiya a boomer if they could somehow meet, even though they are technically the same age.

[erasethedarkness]

The Cat and the Key

Summary: The most wanted woman in town has announced that she'll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat's neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail. The cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them. He was the first one to figure out the obvious, even with no intention of going for the prize: do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key.

Reader: Female

Words: 4644

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader

Note: The summary is, almost verbatim, taken from this tumblr post that inspired the story. Bonus inspiration: Please don't knock, the cat has the key.

“Ugh, another?” you sighed, vexed by the marriage proposal brought to your attention. Your parents received an offer for your hand that, like the others before it, outlined how beautifully your family names would mesh, and how lovely a woman like you would look on some rich man’s arm. As always, they emptily promised you would want for nothing- but how could they be so sure? People you didn’t even know were sending you offers, and it seemed like everywhere you turned, someone was trying to- how did they used to say it?- wife you up .

“I’m over it. I’m so over it. I’m just gonna fake a husband so no one thinks I’m available.”

“(Y/N), that’s such a dumb idea,” your brother ridiculed.

“Oh, come off it,” you groaned, rolling your eyes as you leaned back in your chair. You placed your fork down, sighing deeply and taking a sip of wine.

“Hey, I’m just saying… What’s gonna happen when you meet someone and actually do want to get married? Are you gonna fake a divorce, too? Bit more effort than it’s worth, don’tcha think?”

Your lips tightened in a frown as he made a point you couldn’t refute, the family dinner carrying on as the topic changed to something much less antagonizing for you: pets.

“God, she’s awful right now since she’s not potty trained. I swear, I come home to a mess every day,” your brother complained, his new puppy a mess of a sweetheart. “And her favorite game? Guess it. Anyone, guess it.”

“Fetch?” your father gandered.

“Fetch?! I wish! No. It’s Keep Away. Keep. Away. She takes my keys and then I have to chase her around the house because she likes to play Keep Away. The pup doesn’t even go for the decoy set anymore.”

As your parents chuckled over your brother’s misery, your eyes widened for a moment as an idea blossomed in your head, a content and mischievous smile following afterward.

The following week, you made a public announcement that was first published on your “personal” blog beneath a picture of a cat with a key around its neck:

Words cannot describe how fortunate and honored I am to receive the number of proposals and requests for my affections that I have. Everyone has made such tempting offers and promises, shown an eloquence with words and feeling, and in the end, I find it difficult to choose someone to walk this life with. The number of wonderful people inquiring on my behalf is almost overwhelming, so I have come up with a simple task:

Tied to my beloved cat is my house key. Let it be known that whosoever retrieves the key and returns it to me will have my undivided attention and romantic interest to pursue a relationship.

I know, what a wild idea, right? But animals have the best judgement in people, and it’s just as crazy as marrying someone who’s sent a letter to my parents asking for their blessings to marry me. :)

Good luck.~

It didn’t take long for your crazy idea to headline the local newspaper and station. While the letters persisted, you instructed your parents to simply throw them away- after all, you weren’t interested in someone who couldn’t be bothered to be invested in your life and follow a misleadingly simple instruction. Whoever wanted to win your heart would have to get the key, and you’d give no one else a chance

All throughout town, cat traps were set up, waiting for the unsuspecting housecat to fall into them. Food, water, and even the occasional bowl of milk was left out in hopes of attracting the sweet little feline. But the cat wasn’t so easily swayed- after all, it was a housecat and knew the luxuries that people tried to bribe it with. The strays, however, loved it, and overnight seemed to double in numbers.

Aizawa, for one, seemed to be all the happier for the influx in cats. After all, it wasn’t like he didn’t already provide for the strays around his neighborhood. Before your announcement, he always saw the same few: a tabby with mix matched eyes, a black longhair, and a calico. They were an odd bunch, but they seemed to get along, sometimes coming together to his door as he set out food for them. Gradually, more and more would pass by his door- and he wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw a glint of silver as a new cat crossed his path now and then.

The soft clink of something hitting the ceramic bowl outside his window woke the pro hero all too soon from his slumber. Still in his hero’s garb from last night’s patrol, Aizawa got up from his bed and spread two plastic lines of his blinds as he looked for the source of the noise. Outside his window, a cat sat at the bowl of water, and around its neck was a single key that bounced off the bowl as the cat drank, making the clinking sound a few times over. Next to the bowl was an empty plate, all the food eaten by strays that came before the wandering housecat.

He quietly and slowly opened the door, not wanting to scare the cat away. It stopped drinking and backed away from the bowl, staring at him distrustfully. This wasn’t the first time someone tried to approach the key-bearer to steal from it. Seeing the defensiveness, Aizawa showed his palm to the cat, a can of wet food in his other hand. Slowly he came to the plate, still more than an arm’s reach from the housecat, and placed the open can down. As soon as he set it down, he backed away and went back inside, giving it plenty of space.

From his bedroom, Aizawa pulled up the blinds, watching the housecat from afar. It was sitting in the same spot it backed away to, staring at the hero with its tail flicking at the tip. He studied the cat, discerning from its finer details that it was likely a fully grown female- and she was probably spoiled, considering the fact that she had absolutely no interest in the food he put out just for her. The cat stayed for a moment longer before something caught it’s attention, fleeing with the key around her neck still.

Nights later, Aizawa stopped beneath the streetlight across from his back door. He sucked on the tube of his fruit pouch, listening to the soft clinking the cat’s key made as she drank with her back towards him. Slowly and quietly he began to walk towards her. “Hey, kitty,” he spoke lowly, not quite a whisper but still lower than his usual tone. The cat’s ears perked up and she defensively turned around with a hiss, her back arched and tail puffed. He stopped, holding his hands up at chest level. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to go home. That okay?”

She stared him down, moving away from and around the hero, never turning her back to him.

“You hungry? It’s late; I’m surprised you’re not home with your owner,” he mumbled as he got to the door, unlocking it. To his surprise, the cat meowed softly at him and was sitting down when he glanced back at her. “Huh. Stay there, I’ll get you some food.”

Aizawa returned with a fully cooked and butterflied shrimp. He stopped just outside his door, watching the cat who sat still and returned his stare. A soft smile curled onto his lips as he placed the shrimp on the plate.

“You must be a spoiled one since you didn’t even touch the canned food,” he mumbled, talking more to himself than to the cat. He moved back to the door and squatted down, hands in plain view as he studied her. For about a solid minute, he watched, until speaking again. “Am I still too close?” he asked, standing back up and leaning back against his door with his arms crossed.

As if challenged by his words, the cat stood and took a step forward, watching him to see if he moved in response. When he didn’t, she took another, then another, until she was at the plate and just barely out of arm’s reach. The gentle smile returned to Aizawa’s lips as he saw her bow her head and sniff the shrimp, and grew when she took the shrimp and then bolted away into the night. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he went inside.

After treating the housecat to a piece of shrimp, Aizawa started to see her around his place more often. Every now and then, he’d wake up to the sound of her key bumping against the water bowl in the morning, or come home to see her sitting by the plate. Each time, he’d give her a little shrimp and watch her disappear with it delicately in her mouth. Eventually, he was able to pinch the tail and hold the piece of shrimp out to her, letting her take it from him instead of placing it on the plate. The strays seemed to warm up more to him as well, hardly moving when he walked near them on his way in or out.

Returning from U.A. one afternoon, Aizawa stopped as he heard a fuss. Looking in its direction, he saw a man bolting at him and chasing the key-bearing cat. Without hesitance, he threw out his capture weapon and apprehended the man, who immediately started yelling at him and causing a scene. The cat ran right between his legs and kept going as he pulled the person towards him.

“Hey, what the hell gives, dude?! I was just about to catch that fucking cat and get the key!”

“No, you weren’t,” Aizawa grumbled, staring at the captive with glowing red eyes, his hair standing on edge and out of his face. “In fact, you’re going to turn around and leave her alone if you ever see her again. I won’t hesitate to subdue someone terrorizing a cat.”

“Tch, whatever man. I bet you just want that key for yourself so you can marry (Y/N).”

“Hardly,” Aizawa grunted at the thought, “but anyone who has to forcibly take that key isn’t worthy of marrying her.” He unwrapped his capture weapon from the man, letting his hair fall and eyes return to normal. “Get out of here.”

With a deep sigh, he headed home for a nap before his patrol.

A few days passed without a trace of the housecat. He would never admit it, but he was actually a bit worried for her. Did someone catch her? Did they hurt her to get the key? Maybe she started exploring a different part of Tokyo? Absentmindedly, he started looking at your blog to see updates on the cat to make sure she was well, and soon enough, he was checking daily, since you posted a new picture of her with the key around her neck every day. He didn’t give a damn about the key- he was just happy that the cat was alright, and enjoyed seeing pictures of her.

The soft clatter of metal on glass caught his attention as Aizawa returned home from a late patrol. Even with his trained eyes, he couldn’t spot the cause until he crossed the street and got closer. As he squinted, he saw the familiar silhouette of a cat lost in the night’s shadows. It was on his window ledge, standing with its front paws against the glass and moving its head as it tried to look into the darkness. A soft smile pressed to his lips as he took the end of his capture weapon and tossed it close to the cat, giving the scarf playful little flicks to catch its attention.

“Here, kitty. There’s nothing inside, but you can play with this,” he offered, squatting down and moving the scarf around.

The cat stopped pawing at the glass, the clinking coming to an end as it turned and looked at the man keeping his distance. It hopped off the ledge and pounced at the gray fabric, coming into the outskirts of the streetlight. The smile on Aizawa’s lips grew wider as he recognized the housecat, her key still safely attached to her collar.

“Hey… It’s been a while. You’re full of energy right now, aren’t you?” He chuckled softly and reached out his hand, offering the back of if his knuckles to her as she played with his capture weapon. Immediately as she noticed his hand, she backed away from him, leaving the scarf with small divots where her teeth pinched it.

“You’re okay; I’m not gonna hurt you, little one…” Other than rubbing his thumb and index finger together, Aizawa remained still. “Don’t you remember me?”

She meowed softly in response and took cautious steps to the hero in black, and for the first time approached him close enough that he could just barely feel her whiskers on his calloused hands. The housecat sniffed him for a short moment before deciding to jump on his capture weapon again, catching it between her front paws and rolling over with it so that she could chew on the end while her back paws kicked at the remaining length that eventually went up to his neck. Aizawa laughed softly and gave her more slack to play with, watching the way she twisted her body as she laid on her back, and soon introduced the other end of the scarf to her. He dangled it just within reach and pulled it away as her claws came out to catch it, watching in amusement as she quickly rolled back onto her paws and swiped at the fabric that was always just out of reach.

When she finally caught the end Aizawa dangled at her, he let the scarf go, the length of the capture weapon tangled in a mess around the cat. He laughed as she began to play freely with it all again, and left her to roll around in the gray fabric while he went inside and boiled a single shrimp for her.

To his surprise, the cat followed, dragging his scarf with in her mouth. She paused at the door, sitting in front of it with the capture weapon leading from her mouth back to the spot she played in. Her soft meow greeted him as he came back with the shrimp on a plate, making him pause in the hallway leading to the door. The house cat stayed at the door as he took slow steps toward her, and placed the plate down right in front of her. As usual, she sniffed the shrimp before delicately picking it up in her mouth and turning to walk away.

After a few steps, however, she stopped and turned back around as Aizawa was pulling in his scarf. He finished wrapping it up, holding it in his hand as he turned away. Just as he was about to shut the door, he noticed a metallic gleam and paused to look back outside. As he did, the cat came up to his doorstep with the shrimp still in her mouth, and sat down looking up at him. Her eyes shifted to look inside, and then back at him.

“What’s this..?” he murmured to himself as he crouched down, offering his hand to the cat again. “It’s.. odd. Are you asking to come inside? That’s not very like you.”

The cat placed the shrimp in his hand and looked back at him, and he could have sworn it was like she was trying to answer him.

“Alright, fine, come on,” Aizawa grumbled despite the smile on his lips. He stood back up and gestured to let her in, closing the door behind her. The cat stopped and looked back at the door as her host retrieved a plate for the shrimp. His footsteps caught her attention and she looked back up at him with an inquisitive meow.

“It’s alright, kitty. I’m sure you’re trained to ask for out, aren’t you? Just wake me up and I’ll let you out. Simple as that,” he explained despite his doubt that she could understand him.

The hero set the plate on his desk, pulling out his chair so that she could jump up to it with ease. Beside it, he placed a bowl of water and his capture weapon. Without an extra pillow, Aizawa went to his closet and pulled out one of his sweaters, folding it and putting it inside the ring his scarf made, turning it into a makeshift bed for the little housecat.

“I doubt it’s anything like what you have at home, but… well, it’s the best I’ve got for a cat right now.” He smiled at her as she hopped up onto the desk, watching as she sniffed at the bed. As she sat down to eat her shrimp, he left the room to shower.

When Aizawa returned, half dressed and half dried, he looked around for the cat before noticing that she was curled up in a resting loaf on his singular pillow- right in the center with no space to share. She had already fallen asleep, and rather than wake her up, he smiled and finished towel drying his hair before getting the lights. Carefully, he sat down on the bed and pulled the pillow down and to the side, slowly and trying not to wake his visitor. The soft touch of her tail against his wrist made him pause as she meowed and stretched, and even in the darkness, the two shared a look. He smiled at her and laid down on his side, resting his head on his arm and spooning the stolen pillow. A soft, rumbling purr created a strange kind of white noise in the room, and Aizawa fell asleep much sooner than he usually did listening to it.

A few short hours later, the hero woke with the rising sun. Only half awake, he looked down to his arms where he hugged the pillow to his chest and stomach- and much to his surprise, was alone. Aizawa bolted up and flung the blanket off, looking around for the late night guest.

The clatter of something small and metal falling onto his floor caught his attention, and on the ground laid a key- it’s bearer nowhere to be seen. Aizawa picked it up and began to look around the rest of his home, calling for her- checking the kitchen, bathroom, underneath the futon, and even in a few cupboards- but she wasn’t there, and no meows responded to his voice.

That afternoon, gossip was especially rampant as people gasped and griped over the fact that you had posted a new picture that morning of your cat- without her key. A few of his students were distracted with the celebrity news, wondering and speculating on the type of person who got the key.

“I hope he’s handsome-”

“What if it’s a woman??-”

“Do you think they’ll really date and get married?”

In their distraction, they didn’t notice their instructor come up behind them, and in a blink of their eyes, they were all tied up with useless quirks.

“Do you really think a villain will care?” he asked them harshly as they squirmed and protested.

“Well… maybe? Villains have lives too, don’t they?”

“DUDE! Dude, what if a villain got the key and (Y/N) has to marry a villain??!”

The students’ excitement was getting out of hand and Aizawa squeezed them both in his capture weapon. “That cat’s not dumb enough to lose a key to a villain,” he grumbled before letting them go. “Worry about it later and focus on becoming a hero- unless this isn’t important to you anymore and you want to be cut from the class.”

His threat reeled the students back in as they knew he was fully serious- he was notorious for expelling people he deemed unfit for the hero course, and they didn’t want to be next. For the rest of the week, he seemed somehow less tolerant and more severe, as if to prevent his students from bringing you or your cat up.

Two weeks went by, allowing news of the lost key to calm down. An occasional article went out wondering why the keyholder hasn’t come forward yet, speculating that maybe the key was genuinely lost somewhere in a park or lake, or suggesting that you took the key off the cat. In truth, you were starting to become a bit concerned, so after the third week, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Three weeks had gone by since Aizawa last saw the housecat. She never returned after staying the night with him and losing her key. He was certain that it must have come off in her sleep, and- because she was a cat- she had no way of putting it back around her neck. Once or twice he thought that maybe she left it- after all, she could have picked it up in her mouth- but why would she? That put too much stock into an animal’s actions- and no matter how smart she might have been, there was no way she was like Nezu and had a higher intelligence than a normal cat. Since the key chase was over, there was no reason for you to let your cat out at night anymore, and he assumed that’s why she no longer came around.

Aizawa stopped in his doorway as he returned from patrol, hearing a familiar meow. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw the housecat sitting underneath the streetlight, watching him. As he turned around, she daintily pranced over with soft, silent pawsteps until she was looking up at him right outside his door. He squatted down and offered his hand to her, smiling broadly when she pressed her cheek against his knuckles and passed her chin over his hand. She meowed again and reared up, placing her little paws on his knees and presenting her face to him. The hero chuckled and bowed his head to her, closing his eyes as he felt her whiskers tickle his face

“You wanna come in again, kitty?” he asked, standing back up and looking down to the cat. She meowed at him again and stepped through his legs, pressing her side against his pants in the process. Without delay, the man- long exhausted by teaching and protecting- went into the kitchen to boil up a shrimp for his visitor as she wandered through his home. Once again, he placed it on his desk beside a bowl of water, then left her to take a shower.

When he returned, Aizawa dropped the towel he was using to dry his hair. The shrimp was untouched and the cat was nowhere to be found-

Instead, you sat on his bed, one leg crossed over the other, waiting for him. A light blush dusted your cheeks as you closed your eyes and looked away.

“You… wore pants back the last time.”

“... and you must have been a cat the last time,” he mumbled as he pulled on his sweatpants. The bright pink surprised you more than his nudity when you looked back at him, and you looked away again- at anything but him.

“You’re not surprised?” you asked after taking a deep breath and forcing yourself to look up at the hero. He held your eyes for a moment before leaning against the doorframe.

“... Y’know, it’s been three weeks. I figured.. If you don’t want my key, I would just ask for it back.” Your words came softly, with a fragility that caught you both by surprise. A silence settled between you as neither looked at the other.

“I thought it was an accident-”

“I guess you don’t- wait what?”

The words came out together, and you both caught yourselves as one interrupted the other. For a few awkward seconds, you continued to cut each other off trying to insist the other continue speaking, until Aizawa finally just kept talking.

“I thought it was an accident, and that the key fell off while she- er, you- were sleeping. I didn’t want to approach you and have you think I was just another person trying to marry you.”

You pressed a polite smile onto your lips and nodded at his explanation.

“I see. Um… Well, it was intentional, but if you’re not interested then that’s okay and I’ll just get my key back.” The words came flatly and awkwardly for you, but you kept yourself together. It was uncommon for you to be rejected- it’d been years, really- but the feeling was the same. Your heart sunk a little, while your lips lifted into a forced smile. You watched as Aizawa took the key from a drawer in his desk, and took it when he handed it back to you.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” you just barely mustered as your fingers closed around the key, looking down at your hand to avoid his gaze.

“It’s alright. You're… erm," he sighed softly. "You're a cute cat, but I'm … not keen on dating one, so…” he trailed off, awkwardly bringing his hand to the back of his neck.

“Oh- uh, that’s fine- I underst-”

“Wait- no, that's- I-" Aizawa sighed in exasperation as you two started talking over each other again, and sat down beside you. "Just wait a second, (Y/N).

What I meant is… You're a cute cat- a damn cute one, honestly- but I don’t want to date the cat I met, I want to know what you as a person are like. And I want to find that out without the pressure of what having the key meant.”

You glanced to the side at him, brows slightly furrowed as you tried to make heads or tails out of what he was trying to say. When your eyes met, he saw the perplexity in your expression and gave you a soft smile- the first one you’d seen exposing yourself as the cat.

“I appreciate that you trust me with your key, but I’m afraid you got to know me better than I got to know you. So why don’t we try this again on a proper date, and not 4:00am at my place?”

The hero gave you a soft and even sweet smile that brought a blush to your cheeks, and you couldn’t look away from him as you nodded in agreement. He put on a sweater and offered his hand to help you from his bed, and escorted you home despite the hour and his fatigue. With each step, you two got to know each other just a little better and more sincerely- words no longer a barrier between a cat and a human now that you shared a common tongue as man and woman.

“Aizawa?” Your voice stopped him at your doorway before he turned away. He reacted just like he did when he heard your little meows at first, and you smiled to yourself in seeing the similarity.

“What is it?”

His eyes followed you as you walked back to him, and for a moment, he looked even kinder and sweeter. You stepped in front of him, your chest nearly pressing against his, and slowly brought your hands to his cheeks. One of his hands followed yours and held your hand to his cheek as the other came to your waist. He leaned down as you drew his face to yours, and allowed your lips to meet his in a soft kiss.

“I’m glad I met you,” you whispered as he straightened back up, smiling at him before you disappeared inside.

I am, too.

[tanoraqui]

*chinhands* so tell me about guinevere being gay and doing crimes in space

There are three rules that an e-space* Navigator lives by:

Know who you are

Know where you’re going

Know where home is (just in case)

*“espace”, more often; hyphens don’t survive casual parlance; it’s short for “extra-space” because scientists aren’t always good at naming things. just thank god for the one physicist who raised an early objection to “subspace”, even though in early models of layered reality, what came to be known as “espace” was, indeed, below our space.)

The third is easiest, because it’s drilled into every recruit from the second they’re brought to the Lighthouse - which is usually at an age so young they’ll forget having lived anywhere else before. There might be an official name for the headquarters of the Navigators’ Guild on paperwork somewhere, but inside the space station’s halls and outside it, on every ship and planet and empty space between stars in the galaxy, it’s the Lighthouse. There’s a general understanding of why: it’s where navigators call home, where they can look to for aid and succor when the seas turn rough, in this space and the other.

Most people don’t understand, though. Because most people are not navigators: they have never stayed awake while every other mind in the ship was sent very carefully and very deeply into sleep, while the ship passed across a crackling boundary between this reality and another. They have never held themselves together in a world where up was not quite down because neither of those terms applied, where colors were tastes were neither, where time and space were both only suggestions, and the map is a matter of focus in your mind.

You are lost as the default, in espace. Or, “lost” isn’t a term that applies, because all reference points are only in your mind, and if you don’t have your destination absolutely clear, you will be lost in the metaphorical sense as well as not quite the literal. So the politer, more bureaucratic line is that navigators (orphans, usually) are taken in so that their training can begin as early as possible, the truest truth is that it is so that when they begin their training, they will have somewhere to come back to. (Their very secretive training; it’s not, allegedly, sink or swim, but the Guild protects the secret of how it trains its navigators more closely than it guards anything.) So that no matter what, if they lose track of their destination - too unfamiliar, or even unwanted - they can always remember the Lighthouse. The bunkbeds and warm corridors of the dormitories; the creatively placed asteroid ring, more for agility practice in dart-fliers than anything else; the iconic long body of the station itself, modeled half-seriously after a lighthouse of old (symbols can matter in espace), floating amidst darkness and a starry background, the nearest planet several standard-orbits away for the sake of autonomy…the navigator’s last and truest port in a storm. 

The earlier a young navigator-to-be can fix that in their heart, so surely that they’ll know the exact moment its closest, to fire the engines to make the jump back, the more likely they are to, indeed, return home.

The second has been touched on! Navigation in espace is a matter of focus and knowledge, intuition, sense of the shape of a world without shape and essence of a world - or rather, a very specific part of a world - in which its rarely manifest. Many navigators dabble in art of some kind - painting, sculpture, crochet, poetry - because it helps them capture what cannot otherwise be captured. Or maybe so much time in espace means they can’t help but see this world differently as well, and need an outlet…opinions differ. Among navigators. Person to person, you know?

Anyway, because of this quirk of interstellar travel, most planets have, gloriously from a worldbuilding perspectively, entirely in-canon motivation to have highly specific unique traits. The easier a planet or station is to remember, itself and only itself, the less likely ships are to be lost on the way to it. So there’s a planet in Alpha Centauri renowned for its deserts, and its annual global competition, bringing thousands of would-be bakers, confectioners, and more each year. There’s a space station circling Rigel where every citizen proudly gets a new tattoo each year, and so does the station itself, vast stenciled artworks commissioned by the ruling council and drawn by artists in space suits. There’s old Red Mars itself, now more a tourist trap than anything but still just as proudly rust-colored, the closest any interstellar ship is allowed to the nature reserve of Earth.

So, know where you’re going, because going back to the Lighthouse gets you safe, but it doesn’t get you paid. The Guild cares for its navigators, it really truly does…on average. But there are bureaucrats and business managers in there, too, and they know they’re sitting on the galaxy’s most valuable monopoly.

And first: know who you are. Nothing in espace is real the way it is in standard space, including the self. Don’t worry about the crew or the passengers, or even the materiality of the ship itself - the ship AI will keep track of them, as well as of time as it should be passing. Nothing determinedly holds to numerical time like a digital mind. They’ll keep track of the navigator’s physicality as well - that’s what the biotagging chip is for. But most navigators do some sort of dance, martial art, or other exercise as well, to give themselves a better sense of, well, themselves - it’s always good to have a backup. Any passengers and crew are so unconscious that they may as well be inanimate, which is why an AI can keep track of them jus fine - the navigator, of course, is awake for the whole voyage.

So, the woman who in another life might be named Guinevere…

Her first name is Djinn, because a lot of navigator orphans are named after mythical creatures or heroes, from one culture or another, that can fly. A lot others are named after mythical heroes or creatures known for sight. The people in charge of children at the Lighthouse are a bunch of nerds, really, or they were once, and tradition stuck.

Her last name is probably Navigator, because being named after your profession is as old as civilization, and there are fewer things its easy to be proud of than being an official Guild-licensed navigator. You get to choose a surname when you get your license, and like many before her, Djinn chose that.

Once a navigator has their license, they’re more or less loosed unto the galaxy, if they want to be. You’re welcome to work as an independent contractor, so long as you still pay your percentage back to the guild of every navigating fee, and don’t undercharge the Guild minimum. 

Djinn elected not to do that, actually. She wanted to travel, of course, to fly, to spend as much time as possible in hte giddy twistedness of espace. But she didn’t want to manage her own business, and she didn’t mind the Guild taking a little higher percentage to have jobs lined up for her. And she was good, oh, she was good, so it wasn’t long before she was flying precious cargos and even passenger ships - small ones, to start, and not particularly pricey (not used by the affluent, that is, who would pay more for a more experienced navigator, with more successful trips under their belt). But still, a very promising career, and she was comfortable.

She always has a sketchbook, luxurious paper so she can save or destroy the drawings as she wants, rather than wipe them clean from a laminate. Physical rather than digital, because she’s drawing this world, she says, so it has to have real mass - but she almost only ever uses pale colors. Bright things, she saves for paint, when she has time and space and money for an easel, and that art is twisting and bright and incomprehensible to everyone but a fellow navigator - and even then, most understand what she means, but now how she’s representing it. No one really experiences espace the same way.

She’s short of stature and of hair, skin probably #C26604-ish? and walks with a dreaminess in her eyes and the confidence of someone who knows she’s weird - as most navigators do. Also, definitely practices some science fiction equivalent of judo. Has slightly more energy than she needs at any given moment, and when she decides to move fast, will do so. Physically, emotionally, and in terms of decision-making - will put off decisions if they’re unpleasant, but will make them quickly if they’re not, and commit 100%. Stubborn or determined, however you want to phrase it; holds grudges…but if pushed to reconsider something, will do so, and will willingly change her mind. Often in the 100% opposite direction from before. 

(It’s hazardous to go into espace unsure of what you want in life.)

Also, she’s not actually a licensed navigator anymore, by Guild rule. See, I said she was good, right? Really good? So, most navigators have a seat on the bridge - they don’t really need to be there, but it feels right - and that’s where they stay for the duration of the espace journey. Easier to focus if you don’t need to move, don’t need to think about anything but where to go and when (”when” maintained by the ship’s clocks) exactly to make the jump back to get there. There are probably IV tubes and catheters and everything, because it can be a several subjective hours sometimes, and better safe than sorry. 

But Djinn was good, oh, she was really good, and she didn’t need that stuff. She didn’t want that stuff. Always a little more energy than necessary for the moment, remember? So her knee jiggled, and that was fine. She stood and stretched, and that was fine. She paced the bridge, alone save for the AI, and thought about the swirling patterns on the outer skin of that one station, or the best donut she’d ever tasted on that one planet (she always wanted to be more of a sweet tooth than she actually was.) 

None of this was per regulation, but it was the sort of thing that got comfortably ignored by the Guild, if you admitted it - and you were encouraged to, for your own safety as a navigator and that of your ship, and in the interest of more data gained about espace travel. And then not reported on to whoever’d chartered the navigator, so long as the nav was back in their seat by the end and got the ship to its destination just fine, because what the layperson didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

But, well…

It doesn’t get much harder to hold yourself and everything under your care together as they are the longer you’re in espace - additionally, but not multiplicatively, much less exponentially. Time and space still function in a way, so trips between this planet and that are known to have a certain average amount of time, but it’s flexible. If a navigator can confidently know themselves through, and the ship AI has a confident grasp on everything else, there’s no reason she shouldn’t pause in her destination-seeking, or at least not focus quite so hard, and just…wander the ship for a while. See the sights (that aren’t quite, here.) Enjoy the upsideways-tasting sensations.

So, Djinn met an AI with whom she really got along, did a couple trips in a row on that ship specifically, and then talked them into covering for her while she stole stuff from the passengers. More for fun than anything, honestly. But she got…well, she got caught, mostly, more than she got anything particularly valuable (probably?). (She got away with it like a dozen times, first, though.) And stealing from passengers while traveling through espace, while nearly unprecedented, is illegal by the laws of every place of origin she flew from…which is what applies on-ship until the destination is reached, by interstellar law. 

More importantly, it was against Guild rules. They claimed precedent, because the Navigators’ Guild looks after its own, so Djinn wasn’t imprisoned anywhere. But her license was revoked for 7 years.

We meet her sometime in year 4, maybe 5 of that probably, I think on the equivalent of Jackson’s Whole.

[zazzyzoo]

Alice celebrates her heritage!

Hi, everybody! It's me, Alice, and today I've got an important message for you: LEARN YOUR HOMETOWN'S HISTORY! I promise you, even if you live in a plain little town, the story is more interesting than you think. Your town is a microcosm of world history. If you trace your home's timeline, you get an up-close look at an example of the larger picture.

Take my hometown of Dayton, for instance. Here's a story that goes from prehistoric glaciers to woodland Indians to log-cabin pioneers to cutting-edge industry and innovation. And if you think about, it, that's a lot like the story of America as a whole. But with local history, you get to live with that story, hands-on and in-person. There's nothing more exciting than seeing actual buildings and artifacts from the past. They're historical puzzle pieces! Each one helps resolve the abstract image you have of how it was in the olden days.

Luckily for me, Dayton has done an excellent job of organizing and preserving its story. I could easily spend all day at Carillon Park, which is a little "village" of Dayton's historic buildings and artifacts that have been collected into one place. You can walk around the pretty paths, surrounded by tall trees, and go inside historic structures and galleries of cool items that, together, form a portrait of Dayton's past.

Why Carillon Park? It's named for the stately tower of bells marking the entrance to the park.

Get your ticket, and off you go! Isn't it such a pretty park?

Off to the right, we have rustic Newcom Tavern and a one-room schoolhouse. They're not just for show -- you can go right in and explore!

Here, let's go in the schoolhouse.

Can you imagine all 8 grades crammed into one room with only one teacher?

You can almost hear the old schoolmarm rapping someone's knuckles...!

Back outside, we can get a closer look at Newcom Tavern. The coolest thing about this place is that it's the oldest building in Dayton -- from 1796! Imagine your hometown as a wild and woolly wilderness with nothing but a bare-bones tavern along a river.

Speaking of bare-bones, how about this 200-year-old Shaker home?

Look at this setup! It makes you stop and question how much stuff you actually need to to get by.

I wouldn't mind living here, in a way. When I look out the front door and enjoy a peaceful scene like this, it doesn't seem too bad, huh?

Back on the main path, we come to an old printing shop. They actually still print stuff here using old-fashioned methods. Come on, let's take a look inside!

Holy moly, who knew it took so much equipment to put letters on paper?

Next, we'll visit an exhibit that's very important to me -- the 1913 Flood gallery. When Dayton was flooded in 1913, it seemed to me and my family that the world was ending. We woke up that morning to hear thunder booming, church bells ringing, and factory whistles blowing, all warning us to hurry, run, the levee has broken. Houses were ripped from the ground, tossed like children's toy blocks, and gas explosions torched the heart of downtown. People scuttled along telegraph lines to save themselves, while others tore holes in the roofs of their homes so they could climb just little higher and escape the current. Look at this photo of a house tipped over, as though a giant had picked it up and dropped it carelessly.

History can hardly be more vivid than this artifact of the Great Flood. It's a light bulb salvaged from a school building. Flood water got trapped inside the bulb and remains there to this day. Over a century after the calamity, we can still see a cupful of the very water that caused so much devastation.

But the Flood isn't just a story of tragedy. It's a story of heroes who threw themselves into the huge task of saving human lives. Dayton's industrial giant John Patterson of the National Cash Register company (NCR) transformed his factory overnight into a relief center and rescue headquarters. His factory men rushed to build wooden lifeboats like this one. I'll never forget climbing to safety in one of these NCR boats after spending hours shivering on a roof just above the waterline.

Let's switch gears now and go visit the transportation museum to see how Daytonians have gotten around over the years!

This is the oldest surviving U.S.-made steam locomotive, the John Quincy Adams. All aboard!

Walking through an old train car makes me wish train travel were still this luxurious!

But my favorite way to travel is flying! Dayton's most famous citizens are the Wright Brothers, and their world-changing invention -- the world's first practical airplane -- is right here at Carillon Park. Take a moment and think about how much the world has changed because of this very machine! What might the 20th century have looked like without it? How would wars have played out? How would we relate to other countries in business and travel and education... without the Wright Flyer III?

I'd say those Wrights deserve more than just a commemorative bench, eh?

WAY back in the day, covered bridges were a common thing, the toll roads of days gone by.

And boy, did they have rules!

In the main building where you enter the park, there's actually an extensive museum that houses all kinds of miscellaneous Dayton memorabilia. My favorite is the gallery of Dayton-made toys.

Remember NCR? Here's a bunch of their beautiful old cash registers. Don't you wish everything were made to be this ornate and high-quality?

And finally, how about a ride on a Dayton-themed indoor carousel? It's not actually old, but it's still special, because instead of riding horses, you can ride symbols of Dayton history, from the candy box of a local chocolate shop to Orville Wright's dog, Scipio!

Thanks for hanging in there with this long tour, folks. I can go on and on about all the things I love about Dayton history! But really, what I'm trying to tell you is that you should be proud of your hometown, take the time to learn its history, and above all, VISIT the history! It's all right there for you, and it hardly ever costs much money, if any. You'll be so glad you took the time, I promise!

[kuriquinn]

Fic Prompt/Request - Sakura Meets the Uchihas

aki--no--hana said:

Hi there! For fic requests thing - could you do an au/dimension travel where Sasuke's parents meet Sakura as his wife? I'd love to see their reactions and thoughts. Thank you!

Blanket Disclaimer:

AN: This started out really simple...and then became less so. So, I ask you to bear with me, it’s going to take a bit of lead-up to get to the main event, but this fic went and got plotty on me while I wasn’t paying attention. I promise it will be shorter than the last prompt someone gave me *eyes Penthesilea warily*.

“Hah!”

Sakura Uchiha gazes at the immaculate white-board in her office, beaming with pride at the perfectly organised schedule of surgeries, consults and intern rounds for the evening shift. On her desk, to pristine piles of paper dictate the admissions and discharges of the day.

“An hour left of my shift and for once, I’ve got everything done,” she announces, pumping her fist in the air. “Shannaro!”

“Everything to do with the hospital, anyway,” her intern, Ando, says glumly. “There are still a few other things you wanted me to remind you about.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sakura sighs, slumping for a moment. Then, she takes a deep breath, pastes a smile on her face and squares her shoulders. “Alright, what else do I have to do?”

“The clinic needs to be restocked, and you have to go over the budget for the civilian medical staff,” Ando tells her. “With all the new technology coming in, we need more technicians that are trained to operate them.”

“So put Isamu on the clinic and have Wakana call in the wait-listed candidates we didn’t accept last quarter,” Sakura says. “There’s bound to be someone in that group who’s trained on the new tech. What else?”

“You wanted me to remind you today about the meeting with the Hokage tomorrow,” Ando says, making notes on his clipboard. “It’s the one with all of the clan leaders?”

Sakura groans.

She is the unofficial representative of the Uchiha clan while Sasuke is away, meant to ensure that their interests are being served by the village. Given the tumultuous relationship between the clan and the village – and of course between her husband and the village – it’s a duty she takes very seriously.

She just doesn’t feel comfortable in it. 

It doesn’t help that the older clans in Konoha don’t see her as more than an Uchiha by marriage, not blood. The other leaders are polite and respectful, of course, but they always refer to her as ‘Tsunade’s student’ or ‘war hero’ instead of as the matriarch of the Uchiha. It’s a subtle snub, but one she feels keenly.

And then there are others, friendlier clan heads, that look and speak about her like she’s already a widow. The poor, destitute, overworked single mother to a seven-year-old whose husband abandoned her without an explanation as to why. She’s heard every variation of rumour – from supposed infidelity to a tortured soul unable to live a peaceful existence after so long removed from civilisation. Sakura shrugs it all off, but she dreads the day her daughter actually starts to listen to what people are saying.

And I can’t even tell her anything different!

She clenches her fists, trying to fight down the familiar pain of anger and longing. Even aside from all of that, she misses him so damned much!

Sakura glances back at her schedule to make sure she’s pencilled it in, and then groans.

“I won’t be able to make it after all,” she tells Ando, unable to completely hide her relief. “There’s a woman having triplets and she’s scheduled or a C-section tomorrow at the same time. Two of the babies are surgical, and I need to be on hand if something goes wrong.”

As important as the Uchiha clan matters are, Sakura is a healer first and foremost.

“Should I send a memo to Lord Sixth about this? Maybe he can delay it.”

“No, I’ll call him myself and explain the situation. But if you could send one to Naruto? Just to ask him if he can cover us.”

If there’s anyone else in the village who is a staunch defender of the Uchiha clan, it’s Naruto. Kakashi would be too, if his position as Hokage didn’t officially render him a neutral party.

“Of course,” Ando says, and leaves the office.

Sakura sighs and leans back in her chair, trying to remember the last slow day that she had.

There’s not much time to contemplate this, as another knock sounds.

“Come in,” Sakura says, hoping she doesn’t sound as weary as she feels.

A familiar orange-haired woman slips inside. Moegi may only be four years younger than Sakura, but still looks like a coltish teenager; today she is covered from head to toe in bruises and muck.

“I take it you’re just coming back from a mission?” Sakura asks warmly.

“Yes. There’s been a lot of follow-up needed on this one, I haven’t even been able to go home and shower yet,” the other woman sighs. “That’s actually why I’m here.” She reaches into her pack and extracts a wooden box the size of a fist. Various triangular patterns crisscross its form, while on top there’s a round seal that resembles a of Summoning Seal—though not one that Sakura recognises. “My teammates and I found this in the course of our mission. The nukenin we were tracking tried to disappear with it before we captured them, and they’re refusing to tell us what it is. Konohamaru already had Lady Hanabi scan it for danger, but she says there’s no chakra dangerous chakra that she can sense. Just a bunch of tiny, sealed bottles.”

“Then whatever’s in there is either valuable, poisonous or an explosive,” Sakura says.

“That’s what we thought, too. Udon asked Lady Manako to check for anything like that, but her tests came back inconclusive. So, we figured, if there is a poison in here, it makes sense for you to have a look at it.”

“Lady Shizune is just as well-versed in poisons as I am,” Sakura points out.

Moegi shakes her head. “I tried her first, since I know how busy you are. But she’s already left for Suna.”

Sakura sighs. “Very well. But does it have to be today?”

“We can’t submit our mission reports until we find out what we’ve brought back,” Moegi replies apologetically.

“Fine. I’ll take a look at it before I go home, just to give you an idea,” Sakura says, “but I’m not doing a full test until tomorrow, okay? Ebisu will have to learn to be patient.”

“I’ll tell him that,” Moegi says with a grin. “He’d never risk annoying you.” 

“Check back with me in two hours. In the meantime, go take a bath. This is a hospital, you shouldn’t be trekking mud through here.”

Moegi grins. “You’ve got it, Big Sister Sakura.”

She leaves the room, and Sakura reaches for the telephone on her desk.

It takes several rings before her mother picks up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mom,” she greets. “How are things going over there?”

“Oh, just fine. Sarada’s in the living room doing her maths homework.”

Sakura frowns. “She hasn’t even started school yet. She doesn’t have homework.”

“Well, she’s calling it homework. It’s really just an activity book I picked up for her while I was out,” Mebuki chuckles. “I think she just wanted to sound impressive. You used to do the same thing—you wanted everyone to know what a big girl you were.”

Sakura scoffs lightly, but she’s smiling.

“Should I set the table for four tonight, or will you two be doing something together?” Mebuki goes on.

“That’s actually why I’m calling. I’ll be home a little bit later than expected and won’t be able to pick Sarada up until after supper.”

“Ah, alright. Supper for three then. And I’ll make up your old bed for her and she can spend the night.”

“No, Mom, I’m coming to pick her up. She’s already stayed with you twice this week.”

“You say that like it’s a problem!”

“It’s not a problem! I just want to spend some time with her before things get crazy around here,” Sakura replies. “I feel like I don’t see her enough.”

“Well, if you would cut your hours—”

“You know that’s not an option.”

“And if you hadn’t knocked down that nice house Naruto and Lord Sixth arranged for you—”

“That was an accident and you know it!”

“Or if that husband of yours was around—”

“Mother.”

Sakura says it with a single note of warning that her mother has by now learned not to press her on.

“Fine, fine…”

Sometimes the hardest part of knowing the truth about Sasuke’s top secret mission is keeping it from her mother, who has never been his biggest fan. Most of her resentment disappeared around the time Sakura and Sasuke walked through the door with Sarada—it was even getting to the point where she started snubbing neighbours who badmouthed her son-in-law. But then, Sasuke left on his mission, and ever since, Mebuki has been slipping back into her old, over-protective ways.

“I’ll probably be finished around seven o’clock, at the latest,” Sakura goes on, as if the last interchange didn’t happen. “And please don’t let Dad spoil her with too much candy? The last time she was bouncing off the walls for hours before she calmed down.”

“Well, I’ll do my best, but that man is sly,” her mother sniffs.

They exchange a few more pleasantries and conversation, and then Sakura hangs up. She groans to herself, not pleased with this course of action. She hates that she has to spend so much time at work, but her job is as important. At least as important as Sasuke’s, even if she does have the luxury of staying home to do it.

She presses her fingertips to her forehead, sparing a few moments to wonder where he is and whether he is staying careful.

Knowing him, the chances are about fifty-fifty. Sasuke doesn’t take unnecessary risks, that’s why he’s excellent at reconnaissance. But when he does…

It’s best not to dwell on it, considering there’s nothing she can do. She trusts him to finish his mission and return home.

Instead, Sakura picks up the box that Moegi brought her and brings it to one of the labs closest to her office. Reaching for a lab coat and protective glasses—even though she doesn’t really need those things thanks to her seal, it’s always best to model proper protocol to her subordinates—she begins her examination of the container.

The box itself has trace elements of something, although whether it’s soil or something else she isn’t sure. She takes samples, checking them through microscope for any irregular spores or dust. On closer examination, she realises it looks old—not just dated, but there’s something about the quality of wood and the workmanship of the box that jogs a distant memory from a history book. Sakura makes a note to have someone from Konoha’s Archive Library to reference the type of container and the bottles within. Perhaps if similar vessels can be found, she might find out the date and location of origin.

Done with the box, she starts examining the contents, which requires not only several delicate instruments but Unsealing Techniques.

And not easy ones, either, Sakura thinks, ignoring the sweat dripping down the side of her face from the effort.

Given how effectively the bottles are sealed, she decides Moegi was right to bring them to her. Whatever is in here is dangerous. As such, she cautions herself to be even more careful, because further study finds that the tiny bottles have age cracks in them. If those break completely, the protective seals will be rendered useless; she doesn’t want to find out the consequences.

The first bottle she opens confirms the poison theory; she recognises the make-up of the first right away. A toxin found in pufferfish, and in such a high concentration that someone must have gone through a long and painstaking job of collecting it there for a purpose. The next two are just as deadly—tree frog venom and ricin which, again, are highly toxic but not necessarily deserving of the strong seals that were places there. The fourth bottle—

Sakura frowns at this, surprisingly unsure. It looks like it might not even be a toxin, but possibly a simple coagulant, judging from the texture and—

Sakura hears a sudden crack, and her eyes dart toward the containers she has been handling; belatedly she realises that the cracks there are not from age, but from oxidation. They have been sealed away so long that the very air is breaking down the bottles!

Swearing, she reaches for several nearby jars that can be sealed, and quickly begins placing them within; the first two remain intact, but the third cracks just as she closes the lid on it, leaking poison into its new container. As she moves the fourth, it shatters in her hand just as she drops it into the larger jar.

A splotch of clear liquid falls on her wrist, turning the skin there black.

Before her eyes, veiny tendrils spread across her skin, following the path of her veins toward her heart.

Sakura’s mind whirs, her body snapping into action. The substance travels quickly, even just through skin contact. Her cell production speeds up, liver and kidneys stepping up to counter the toxins, and she concentrates on burning the substance from her body.

Black goop seeps out of her skin as she pushes it through her pores, but she can see that it’s not working fast enough. The veins continue to spread upward over her arm, across her body, faster than she can heal herself.

Her world shifts suddenly, the view of the room tilting on an angle, then juxtaposing with another—one of grass and trees—she hears yelling, and then she’s back in the skills lab, clutching the table and gasping for breath.

She stumbles to the speaker near the door and punches the intercom button.

“I need someone from Poison & Antidotes,” she chokes out in as strong a voice as she can manage. “And…quarantine…the room…!”

But then her lungs seize and she can’t get anymore air. Her knees buckle and her legs fall out from beneath her, and before she can find out if anyone has heard her message, the entire world goes black.

サクラ

“Sakura-sensei! Sakura-sensei, are you okay?

Sakura’s consciousness returns slowly.

Fighting to open her eyes, she is dimly aware of bright colours and movement, and the sound of people calling out for her worriedly.

“Sakura-sensei, wake up!”

She frowns – it’s rare that people call her that, even in the hospital, and she usually insists on them simply using her first name. Like both her teachers before her, Sakura has inherited a disdain for grandiose honorifics.

Her other senses fade in now, too; she smells freshly mown grass and rain in the air, and feels the grainy warmth of sand beneath her body.

That makes no sense…did someone leave the windows open? No…wait…the lab doesn’t have any windows…did they carry me outside?

That makes even less sense.

She finally manages to blink her eyes open and keep them that way, when someone leans over her, blocking out the too-bright sky.

“Sakura-sensei, don’t worry, okay?” the person says; not a fully-grown person even, but a child. Someone familiar to her.

Mirai Sarutobi, I think…

“We’re getting help,” the wild-haired girl tells her.

Help? Why do I need help? I’m the one who’s supposed to be helping people, not you…

Despite the high-pitched protests from the other children that are gathered around her – why are there children here? – she drags herself into a seated position. It’s harder than it ought to be, but before she can investigate why, she notices the familiar building in the background.

“The Academy?” she asks, confused. Gazing about, she realises that she is lying in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by children the same age as Mirai. “What happened?”

The girl opens her mouth to answer, but there’s a sudden sound of air displacing and a chorus of surprised shouts.

“What happened?” a devastagingly familiar voice demands, and Sakura tries to maneuver around to see, because that sounds impossibly like—"

“She just passed out, Uncle Sasuke,” one of Kakashi’s twins says.

“It wasn’t us this time, I promise,” the other chimes in.

“Please don’t arrest us!”

“…again.”

And she still can’t see him, but she feels him close by, and on instinct she reaches out and throws her arms around him.

“Sasuke?” she whispers, utter relief and joy filling her.

“I didn’t know you were back! When did you get here? And how did I get out of the hospital?”

“Hospital?” he repeats, pulling away from her embrace. His eyes widen in an expression she has long since associated with anxiety, and yet it looks wrong somehow. “Why were you at the hospital? Is there something wrong with the baby?”

“Baby?” she repeats, and then laughs lightly. “Darling, I know you’ve been gone for a while, but Sarada’s hardly a baby anymore.”

Sasuke’s mouth thins, and he loops his arm around her back, intending to lift her. “We need to get you checked out. You may have a concussion.”

“Please, I would know if I had a concuss…” Sakura trails off in shock as several vital facts occur to her.

First of all, Sasuke is wearing a Konoha hitai-ate – an unblemished, freshly polished one without any of the nicks and dirt she has come to associate with the one her husband wears. Secondly, he is dressed strangely – instead of the long black cloak and dark clothes he usually sports, he is dressed all in grey and wearing a black flack jacket. It’s not the same thing the shinobi of Konoha wear, but all the same she recognises the uniform…

Konoha Military Police, her startled brain supplies. She hasn’t seen anyone wearing this since she was eight years old.

Third, she feels a lot heavier than she recalls being. In fact, the last time she was this heavy, she was –

“Pregnant,” she says dimly, staring down at her ample stomach. “I’m pregnant?”

“You’re only noticing that now?” one of Kakashi’s twins pipes up.

“Should we be concerned for the integrity of our education if you’re this unobservant?” the other wants to know.

Sasuke shoots them both a quelling look, and they shrink a little.

Sakura, in the meantime, focusses within herself and tries to dispel whatever illusion she is trapped in—because it has to be an illusion.

Except she can’t.

Even when trapped within one of Sasuke’s genjutsu, she has always had the ability to recognise it. Something about the air in an illusion tastes different, leaving an aftertaste at the back of her throat and a tickle in her nose.

But there is none of that here.  

Sakura is dizzy from all of the implications of what has happened, but one thing is for sure.

“This isn’t my world,” she murmurs to herself.

“What?” Sasuke asks her, frowning.

“Something happened,” she says, more to herself than to him. “I…there was that box, and the little containers and…and I passed out. In the lab! There must have been a slow-release hallucinogen in the container – probably didn’t activate until it was airborne. Or maybe I accidentally tripped a genjutsu ward when I opened the box – it’s a deterrent. Probably meant to immobilise the victim without emitting any chakra, so they couldn’t block it.”

Sasuke is staring at her now, wide-eyed in a way that she recognises as her husband’s worried face.

He snatches her hand and begins to pull her away from the children clamouring around her. “We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Sakura agrees. “I’ll need Ando to scan me for irregularities in my neural impulses. Taking some blood samples wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“But Uncle Sasuke, what about class?” a Hatake twin asks.

“Go to Iruka and tell him I’m taking Sakura to the hospital. Other than that, she’s in charge,” he responds, pointing at Mirai.

“Aw, man, why does she get to be in charge?”

“She hasn’t burned down the school before,” Sasuke returns. “Twice.”

The twins open their mouths to argue, and then pause.

“Okay, fine, you have a point,” the one closest grumbles.

“We should also check my dopamine levels,” Sakura tells Sasuke as they move further and further away from the schoolyard. “It’s possible they’ve been affected, especially if I’m seeing you right now.”

Sasuke scowls. “You’ve been watching those medical dramas of yours again, haven’t you?”

“Medical dramas?” she repeats, insulted. “When would I have time to watch medical dramas? My life is a medical drama!”

He sighs, and for the first time, worry gives way to something like exasperation. “Sakura, if this is all some elaborate ploy to get out of tonight, you could just say you don’t want to go.”

“Go?” she repeats. “Go where?”

Now he definitely looks unimpressed. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!”

“You can’t have hit your head so hard that you forgot out dinner plans tonight,” he complains. “Especially not since it’s the first time since we got married that they’re acknowledging us.”

“Dinner plans with who?”

There’s a long pause and he eyes her searchingly, as if to gauge if she is joking with him. Then slowly, as if talking to someone very young or hard of hearing, he says, “My parents.”

Sakura’s jaw drops and her mind goes blank.

She has absolutely no idea what to say to this, but luckily, before she has to worry about it, the world suddenly spins on its axis and she loses herself once more to the darkness.

つづく

Is it a dream? Is it genjutsu? Is it a hallucation? Has she somehow crossed dimensions? Stay tuned!

クリ

Next Chapter

[howtohero]

#062 Being the Chosen One

Some heroes don’t have the luxury of deciding they want to be a hero. They just want to work in their garage or finish high school without dying or *looks at notes* live under a stair case? Why would anybody want to do that? But fate or destiny or an older time traveling version of themselves won’t let that happen. They’re the heroes whose calling is so grandiose and important that what they actually want is never taken into consideration, not even once. They’re the heroes with a duty, a special mission, a high-grossing popular multi-film franchise, they… are the chosen ones.

Chosen ones often begin their lives as aggressively normal individuals. They have middling-to-poor grades, looks, relationships with their parents, they’re just boring. And they’re also usually bored. Sometimes they feel or hope or pray that there’s something bigger out there for them, sometimes they’re simply content with what they have. Regardless of whether they’re happy with their lot in life or not though, somebody is going to come for them and change their entire perception of themselves and the world around them. It’s all very zero to hero.

The person who comes for them might be an old wizard or a ghost or the hero’s grandparent. Sometimes it’s a talking car (once it was a fully intact dinosaur skeleton but honestly that was completely bizarre and unprecedented and the person it happened to turned out to be a complete nerd. So I guess, if this happens to you, you can hit up Professor Paleontologist for advice). At first the chosen one will almost definitely dismiss whoever has come for them as being a crazy person (or they’ll think that they themselves are crazy because talking cars are obviously not real). Or they might take the words of these heralds of adventure at face value but reject them anyway because they have no interest in fighting off an evil space wizard and also it’s a school night.  

Eventually though, all chosen ones come around. They kind of have to. Destiny’s not just about to let its chosen champion not uproot their entire lives in order to fulfill some seemingly trivial quest (like burn jewelry or find treasure or stop an evil wizard from returning to power so he can murder everybody who doesn’t do magic). Like seriously, there’s no escaping destiny. The universe will go to extreme lengths just to get one person to do one thing that they really don’t want to do. To the point of excessiveness. Like hey universe, maybe try choosing a different person. Or maybe there should be a chosen two or three or just a whole bunch of people who can get the job done. Like there are almost 8 billion people in the world, you’re telling me only one of them properly decode this riddle or go on this godly scavenger hunt? 

Another thing you’re going to have to deal with if you’re a chosen one is prophecies. There’s always some sort of prophecy. And honestly, a lot of the time these prophecies are super vague and it’s up to someone to just arbitrarily pick someone that seems to check all the boxes. Let us look to the classic example of a chosen one, Skavenger (pronounced like avenger), the supposedly reincarnated Sumerian warlord. See it starts with the prophecy, a series of couplets that were found carved into the side of a mountain.

A boy tall and fair With stark black wavy hair Who on bated breath Escaped Certain death Shall unite for war The Seven the Two and the Four

See, that prophecy, if I’m interpreting this correctly, could refer to literally any male with black hair who one time almost died but then didn’t. But somebody decided that this Skavenger fella (obviously his name wasn’t Skavenger at the time but I’m not about to just publish somebody’s secret identity on here) must be the person the prophecy was talking about (also I don’t know his real name). So now this high schooler has to go reunite the 13 intergalactic Sumerian space colonies (which history has, for whatever reason, tried to erase) so that they can fulfill their destiny and fight the dark force Karalaxus before it consumes the very notion of life itself and honestly if this dude had just done the proper edgy thing and dyed his hair purple he wouldn’t be in this situation.

But being the chosen one isn’t all bad. I mean, you have a built in mentor, that’s pretty cool. Some superheroes never find someone who’s willing to help them find their place in the superheroing world. But if you’re the chosen one that usually means the old wizard or talking car from before will help guide you on your path to fulfilling your destiny. Another neat perk is that due to the nature of certain prophecies, you can’t die until you do what you’ve been chosen to do. So if you’re a trained and talented procrastinator you could potentially live forever. 

There’s also a very high chance that, unbeknownst to you, you have an army of devoted followers who will fight to protect you. They’re the people whose ancestors were given the prophecy and who have been charged with making sure it is properly carried out. These people can act as your super-team or your support-squad or even just your pals whom you get coffee with. But there’s also a high risk that there will be some resentment. Especially from younger members of this cult fan-club. See they’ve grown up their whole lives hearing your prophecy and imaging some great and noble hero. Most chosen ones (chosens one?) are very much not that. They’re usually pretty lame at first. Even if you’re not a total lameborg 3000 (that’s a sick new insult for you to try out kids!) there’s almost no way you’re going to stack up the expectations of these people. So they might totally hate you. They might hate you so much for not being the glorious hero they envisioned and also for just being a general outsider that they’ll actively fight you. So being a chosen one also comes with built in enemies (not to mention some uber existential threat that you were chosen to fight). 

The most important thing to remember if you discover that you’re a chosen one is that you’re still in control of your life. No matter what destiny or fate says you need to do you can always just go “nah son” and just go on living your life. Sure destiny might keep trying to push you in the chosen direction but that just means you’ve got to plant your feet. It might get tiring but I believe in you guys. You can for sures outlast destiny in this pissing contest. Or you can lean into it, save the world and be beloved by all. But again, it’s your call. (Female chosens one please note: Some jerks are going to call you a Mary Sue simply for being chosen and being female but they’re jerkwads and you’re allowed to punch them so have with that at least!)

[filmbasterd-blog]

STAR WARS EPISODE 8: THE LAST JEDI - SPOILER REVIEW

When Luke said “This is not going to go the way you think.” or whatever, he really meant it! Everything about TLJ destroys every expectation, speculation, and theories that everyone had after The Force Awakens. 

Rey’s parents: we expected that her parents could have been someone special like Luke or even Han and Leia or she came from a family of powerful Jedi or whatever bullshit. But no! Her parents turned out to be just a bunch of no good junkies the sold their own daughter for a couple of booze and portions. I get why people are mad at this. It’s like Rian Johnson trolled everyone after revealing her parents turned out to be nobodies after all. But to think of it, it’s their fault. The fans hyped up Rey’s parentage too much in the first place when it was not the point the whole saga is trying to tell. Rey is someone who came from literally NOWHERE, abandoned by her parents, sold for slavery, yet something inside her was very special. The point everyone is missing here is that you don’t have to come from a royal family or a lineage of powerful people to be special. Everyone can be special no matter what shit hole you came from. Yes it sounds cliché, but people still don’t fucking recognize it. Or they have recognized it and hated it. Everyone was so caught up with the fan theories and speculation that they felt like a betrayed idiot for hyping it up.

Rey coming from nothing is a great contrast to Kylo. It deepens their connection and conflict with each other more. Kylo came from royalty and luxury, while Rey came from slavery and poverty. Kylo was loved by the people around him, trained by “The Last Jedi” yet he was still seduced by Snoke (because Luke failed him). Rey never felt love her entire life yet she was still this spark of light shining through all the bullshit around her. She literally dove into the dark side because of her desperate need to know the truth about her parents, but she didn’t find what she was looking there. Rey and Kylo were the total opposite but they found company with each other on the time they were at their lowest. Both of them are like yin and yang, and during that moment they combined forces, SHIT WENT DOWN HAARD LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER! 

A lot of subtle hints were thrown that TLJ was clearly reinventing Star Wars

Lines like: 

“Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to. That’s the only way to become what you are meant to be.”

“It’s time for the Jedi to end.”

“This is not going to go the way you think.”

Burning the tree temple along with the old-ass books about the force inside it was also a symbol for that. 

The meaning of “the force” was explained further. The force is something that every one has. It binds everything in that exists. Good, evil, peace, violence, light, dark; everything is connected. 

Princess Leia: SHE SURVIVED! Holy shit that scene when the bridge exploded and we all thought she’s dead but she just flew right back into the ship like a fucking badass; fuck yeah! Every scene with Leia in was both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. 

Poe: I like how they made it look like Poe was doing the right thing the whole movie but at the end it slaps you with the realization that he’s just ruining everything after all. His story arc here was great. 

Admiral Holdo: I really thought she was a dumbass all throughout the movie. But turns out she‘s this wise hero all along. A new Leia if you will. The whole time I thought she was a First Order spy cause she was being a dick to Poe all the time. But turns out, Poe’s the one being a dick all along. 

FINN AND ROSE: Okay this is were I go hard. Their adventure was fucking useless. They went to this alien Las Vegas planet to find a master decoder or something so their ship can escape through jumping into light-speed without getting tracked by the First Order. When they got there, they didn’t find the guy they were looking for, instead they found this sketchy guy that turns out to be also a decoder or something that they met IN PRISON. So they already failed Step One. Step two, sneak into the Destroyer without getting caught so they can deactivate the tracker. Again, they failed! They got caught while they were almost done! So that leads to immediately failing step three which was deactivating the tracker. Oh and bonus thing, the sketchy decoder guy they found in prison betrays them! Turns out, the Resistance already had a backup plan all along. They’re gonna escape the main ship through little ships that the First Order can’t detect. And because Finn and Rose and the Sketchy Decoder Guy got caught, all those information of escaping were revealed to the First Order because the fucking Sketchy Guy betrayed them for money; that ends up the First Order one by one blasting the escape ships into oblivion. The makes whole point of their adventure useless in the first place AND ruin the original plan the Resistance had. So what I’m saying is, Finn and Rose’s whole adventure was useless. I get that they met a kid in their adventure that turns out to be a Jedi in the end of the movie and it felt like there was “a new hope” coming soon or whatever, but other than that it was fucking useless. That whole side trip was the reason the movie was very lengthy. They could have wrote a better story for Finn and Rose to be a part of.

[vehlika-pelican]

WARNING FOR LONG POST!

I really want Tucker to be friends with Thel'Vadam and Rtas'Vadum.

But I think it’d be really fun if Thel saw the Project Freelancer Faux-Spartan armor as a hereditary thing. My headcannon is that Sangheili design their armor after their clan or family and blue team unwittingly followed this tradition when making Junior’s armor with Tucker (and Doc’s) paint/scrap so as far as the Arbiter knows Tucker is the immediate family of a spartan or a spartan-in-training and has continued the family-armor-aesthetic with his own sangheili son.

Anyway, Thel knows that Spartans are rare and few in number so Tucker must be part of this prized warrior pedigree if he’s wearing the unmistakably Spartan armor, right? But who’s kin could he be? Those that Thel knows are either old or part of the newer generations, but in the Sangheili tradition armor color is important to denote bloodlines with more respected family members in darker, richer colors and younger ones in lighter, brighter colors. Tucker is bright as fuck blue-ish green! And he’s in solid color, no accents or anything so maybe Tucker’s only interested in claiming relation to his green family. Who is the only Spartan who wears dark green armor without accents? Who is old enough to possibly be an uncle if not his father?

Master Chief. John-117. SIERRA MIST OF DEATH HIMSELF. And Thel has stated in canon that Chief is his friend and ally. So when Tucker shows up on Sangheilios to be an ambassador and learn about his son’s people Thel just speculates that this Little Spartan (Tucker’s 5'10" in my headcannon which is short for a Spartan as Chief is canonically 6'7"-6'8" out of armor) is related to his friend in some way and should be treated well. But he mentions it in passing to Rtas'Vadum and maybe some others and it turns out the Sangheili are lousy gossips! If it isn’t classified it’s fair game.

And then Tucker’s being avoided/catered to because Old Ones help them if the Demon finds out his kin has been mistreated while visiting their planet. Peace with the humans is a fragile thing!

Tucker didn’t even want to be an ambassador! He just wanted to learn the language and culture for his son because he’s trying to be a good dad. The rumor took off though, and now the Demon’s kin is here- Little Demon and Little Demon the Second Coming of Lavernius! And then the warriors all want Junior to like their clans so when he’s older he petitions for membership because who DOESN’T want the infamous Demon’s bloodline to merge with theirs?! So Junior gets an army of friends his age as the adults push their offspring into potentially beneficial bonds but its okay because the kids are actually nice and Junior’s cool and his dad’s sword is cool and he knows the Arbiter and Rtas and the Swords of Sangheilios and he’s got the best stories about silly warrior humans.

When the UNSC gets word, oh hey we can totally use this to better interspecies relations! Wham bam thank you Ambassador Tucker. Which only adds to the problem as he has Rank and Title so if he is the Demon’s kin well now he’s coming into his own! The human Master Chief and the Arbiter are friends so of course the Demon would entrust his family with securing the peace.

Thel learns the truth from Tucker who is tired of this wishy-washy too-in-my-face and then not-helping-me-at-all behavior the sangheili keep switching between due to respect and fear for a man who Tucker doesn’t know and isn’t even related to. But it’s gotten out of hand so they need Tucker to just go with it.

As an apology, Thel helps him learn the language and how to use his key-sword while teaching him the history about the ancient Sangheili. Rtas shows up one day while they’re training and no Arbiter the bet way to kill a Brute in tight quarters is like THIS- and soon enough the Swords of Sangeilios, warriors hand-picked by the Arbiter, are putting Tucker through his paces. BAMF!Competent!Tucker is best Tucker.

Then they learn that the Covenant is investigating a temple in the desert supposedly built by the ancients which means Tucker’s sword can probably access it so then send him and a mixed squad of humans and sangheili. They die getting Tucker into the Temple to protect it and he manages to call the nearest Red base where Donut is so he joins him and later goes looking for help and we all know the rest.

On the Hand of Merope Tucker calls Rtas to catch him up but also inform the sangheili embassy of his impending arrival but holy shit the ship crashed. Later on Chorus, Rtas personally comes looking for Tucker only to find out his mentee/annoying friend has been stabbed and betrayed but uncovered a conspiracy and who else but the Demon’s kin would be put through such a trial (maybe he knows the truth but still likes to tease Tucker about it) and come out alive. Tucker regains consciousness enough to ask for the Sword’s help in liberating Chorus and of course the sangheili leap at the opportunity.The beam that’s been pulling down ships doesn’t target sangheili-built ships so Rtas and his men bypass it repeatedly in order to bring in troops and weapons and food. Damn this’ll look good for interspecies relations! and they’ll reclaim ancient sangheili ruins as well so win-win. Rtas struggles to speak english due to his severed mandibles so Tucker’s practically glued to his side translating sangheili like a pro. But then the warriors see that Tucker’s got a bunch of adolescent humans wearing his color on their armor so the Little Demon has been protecting the clan younglings and thats why he not yet returned! And of course this means that Tucker’s team must all be related to the Demon too, and more sangheili come and eventually there’s so many that individual members of Tucker’s “family” have eight foot tall alien guards following them around (mostly protecting them from Jensen’s driving). If Palomo thought Tucker was cool before you need a new word for the kind of admiration he feels for the captain now.

Carolina doesn’t like the Elites and certainly doesn’t trust them but haha, the only adult human female in Tucker’s colors must be his mate or kin and they say that she has nothing to worry about they’ll protect her hatchlings with their lives and they mean it to appease her but it just makes her angry and she chases Tucker down because she thinks he’s spreading rumors about them being together. He’s not because he likes his blood to stay inside of his body and has to spend a whole week explaining sangheili armor color family relations. She doesn’t end up hating it all that much because being mistaken for Tucker’s family/wife means that the sangheili obey her commands second only to Rtas, like Tucker. She does hate being called ‘brood-mother’ and the constant updates on the state of her and Tucker’s “hatchlings”- and does she approve of Palomo’s intended female from the red clans?- but the sangheili presence means that the army is running like a proper military outfit so she tolerates it. (she does like that the closest english translation of “brood-mother” is “Matriarch” so the english speaking aliens call her Matriarch Carolina). Epsilon fears she will go mad with power. The sangheili think Tucker has good instincts choosing the strongest, smartest, deadliest female for his mate and by the Old Ones she must be fertile for Tucker’s brood is plentiful and strong. And if the younglings are weak it is only because Matriarch Carolina is so strong her offspring can afford to be weak. What a luxury. And if they try to sell her up to Kimball because they can smell the mutual interest and think she’s just nervous and needs the help- which she doesnt but okay- then they are more than happy in securing the Demon clan another powerful female.

With the sangheili there in force, the army finds the second key-sword which is supposed to go to Wash because he has knife/blade experience but Palomo grabs it on accident and oh it must be a sign that the best of Tucker’s brood is a holder of the key! Rtas laughs in Tucker’s face. But this gets some of them to try and wing-man Palomo to Jensen because he’s Meant for Greatness and aaaahhhhhh its adorable. Eight foot saurian aliens delivering flowers (and fresh-meat) to Red Team Patriarch Colonel Sarge (its difficult to tell the different red shades apart and Simmons isn’t exactly authoritive) for Jensen, and listening to Palomo’s bad poetry and giving advice like you should emphasize her strong legs and uniquely dappled skin and her metal fangs! (she’s faster than him, freckles, and braces respectively). They especially like her metal fangs- maybe their hatchlings will get them!

The army chases Charon forces off planet and we get the epic sword fight between Tucker and Felix that we deserved, and the Swords of Sangheilios put the fear of god in Locus for daring challenge Matriarch Carolina. When Hargrove arrives the Swords and RedsandBlues fight his Mantis mechs and storm the Staff of Charon and Tucker doesn’t need a fancy suit in order to be awesome. They arrest him and finally lay ALL of Project Freelancer’s loose ends to rest.

Tucker takes Blue Team and Palomo to sangheilios and reunites with Junior and Junior tells him about teaching his friends how to play basketball and is it true you’re a hero dad? and its great.

BAMF!Competent!GoodDad!Tucker for the all the money.

uuhh cant you tell this got away from me? i love tuckington but i think i would make this gen.

[wigglywormy]

rest day [todoiideku, 1.4k]

the good Soft bois..... thanks for the prompt xo

--

Midoriya’s back hits the ground with the thump, and he winces and lets his head fall back. It’s late, the sun beginning to set, and when a hand appears in front of his face, Midoriya sighs and grasps it tightly, letting himself get pulled up.

Kirishima is grinning at him, and he pats Midoriya’s shoulder gently. “You’re getting pretty good at hand to hand combat, dude!”

“I guess,” Midoriya mutters, going over strategies and moves in his head. He has to get better, has to get stronger. He has a long way to go if he wants to be the new symbol of peace, and the stress and heaviness of his future weighs on his shoulders and makes his posture tight. 

He must be mumbling again, because when he looks up Kirishima smile is softer.

“You’re doing just fine, man,” he says. “Both of our quirks, they rely on close combat, so we just gotta train really hard! We don’t get the luxury of long range attacks like our friends do, huh?”

“Yeah,” Midoriya sighs, rolling his shoulders back. “Thanks again, for training with me so much. I really appreciate it.”

“Hey, no problem!” Kirishima says. “I usually spar with Bakugou, but he’s a sore loser when he gets pinned and ends up cheating and using his quirk.”

“Can you show me how you did that one move again?” Midoriya asks. He knows it’s getting late, and Iida and Todoroki are probably going to reprimand him later, for pushing himself so hard, but his adrenaline is high and he still feels the buzz of power floating through his veins. “That move when you like, twisted my arm and hooked around my ankle, and flipped me onto the ground?”

“Sure!” Kirishima says, taking a stance. Midoriya crouches low, his eyes following Kirishima’s every move. “Now, watch closely, okay?”

--

When he gets back to his dorm, Todoroki and Iida are already sitting on his bed, waiting for him. The sun is down now, his lamp switched on, and Todoroki is lying on his stomach, dozing silently while Iida is propped against the headboard, a textbook in his lap and glasses low on his nose. They both look up when Midoriya stumbles in, sweaty and exhausted and sore. He ended up sparring with Kirishima much later than he intended to.

Iida frowns when Midoriya toes off his shoes, sheds his pants, and climbs onto the bed in just his boxers and shirt. He knows he’s sweaty and probably doesn’t smell too nice, but he’s so tired, and his spirits are dampened from his practice with Kirishima. He needs to get way, way stronger., and faster If he can’t handle beating someone without relying on his quirk, what kind of hero is he? What if there’s a villain out there like Aizawa, who can erase his quirk? He has to get better.

“It’s late,” Todoroki murmurs, sitting up to make room for the shorter boy. Midoriya mutters something incoherent, curling up next to Iida and tucking himself into his side. Iida make a noise as he closes his textbook and sets it aside, wrapping an idle arm around Midoriya’s shoulders.

“You should take a bath,” Iida says sternly. “The steam will help relax your muscles.”

“Tired,” Midoriya says, closing his eyes and pouting. He jumps a bit when Todoroki crawls up the bed and settles on his other side, a gentle hand carding through his hair.

“Izuku,” Todoroki murmurs. “This is the fourth night in a row you’ve stayed out sparring. You shouldn’t push your body so hard. You need to take a break.”

“I have to…. get stronger,” Midoriya says quietly, already running through strategies and techniques for his session tomorrow. “I have to get good enough.”

“But you are good enough,” Iida says, sounding confused on how Midoriya could actually think he’s anything but hero material

“You’re not training tomorrow,” Todoroki says sternly. “You need to rest your body.”

Midoriya opens his eyes and pouts, turning slightly towards Todoroki. “Shouto, I…. you don’t understand…”

He sounds resigned, hopeless almost, and Todoroki frowns as he palms at the muscles of Midoriya’s arms, up to his shoulders. “You’re tense as a rock. You need a break.”

Midoriya frowns. “I’m fine - ”

His break hitches, body twitching towards Iida, when Todoroki prods gently at his neck, and he averts his eyes with a blush when Todoroki pauses in his ministrations.

“Midoriya?” Iida says, sounding concerned. “Are you hurt? Did you get injured today while you trained?”

“I’m - ”

“Iida,” Todoroki interrupts, and when Iida’s gaze lands on Todoroki’s, he notices the other boy’s eyes are twinkling with something other than concern. Iida blinks, but then nods in understanding. Todoroki crowds closer, Midoriya’s small body fitting perfectly between both of their larger frames. “I think we need to convince Izuku that he’s pushing himself a little too hard.”

“I  think… that’s a very smart idea,” Iida says logically, nodding, and Midoriya swallows.

“Guys - eep!”

Midoriya squeaks when he feels a hand pinch at his side, and he stares up at Iida with a betrayed look on his face, trying to squirm out of the other teen’s hold with no luck. Iida is a force to be reckoned with, when he sets his mind to something, and Todoroki crowding on his other side isn’t helping at all.

“Look at you,” Todoroki murmurs sweetly, gently working Midoriya’s shirt up so it’s bunched at his chest. Todoroki traces the lines of Midoriya’s abs, gently massaging at the firm muscles there and causing Midoriya to twitch and break down into sweet little giggles. Todoroki smiles a bit. “You’re already so strong, stronger than Iida and I combined, probably.”

Midoriya can feel his face heat up, and oh, they’re going to be nice tonight. Midoriya doesn’t know if that’s worse, or better, and he quickly covers his reddening face. “Sh-Shouto - ”

Iida hums from his other side, bringing his free hand up to drag his nails along Midoriya’s ribs, and then down to the carved vee of his hips. Midoriya is pretty ripped, especially after all of his training with All Might, and Iida and Todoroki are still constantly amazed at him.

“All this strength and power, in such a cute little body,” Todoroki whispers, and Iida makes a noise of agreement.

“St-stop - Iida!” Midoriya squeaks softly, kicking his legs a bit when Iida scratches lightly around his navel, tracing the hard lines of muscle with intent.

“Todoroki is right,” Iida says in that calculative voice. “You’re already so powerful.”

“Even his legs are strong, huh?” Todoroki compliments, digging his fingers gently into the thickness of Midoriya’s thighs, his boxers offering no protection at all from the ticklish touches.

Midoriya laughs louder at that, tossing his head back into Iida’s shoulder as he hugs himself but doesn’t make any serious attempt to squirm away. It… it does feel nice, both of their hands on him like this, and he can feel the tension and doubt in his body releasing with every passing second. His eyes are squeezed shut, and when Iida dips a finger into his navel, Midoriya’s body jerks forward with a shock of sensation.

“Oh j-jeez,” he snorts, squirming a bit. “G-Guys! Okay, okay!”

“Okay what?” Todoroki teases, just because he can, reaching up to scratch under Midoriya’s chin.

“I’ll t-take a break t-tomorrow!”

“Promise?” Iida chides, voice stern even as his hands are playful, settling themselves into the grooves of Midoriya’s ribs for a few good squeezes. Midoriya yelps and wiggles further down the mattress, his sweat-damp hair messing up even more, freckles stark against the redness in his dimpled cheeks as he laughs breathlessly.

“Y-yes, I promihihihise!”

Iida and Todoroki pause their touches, letting Midoriya catch his breath, and Todoroki is the first to lean down, kissing him sweetly on the corner of his mouth before helping the shorter teen sit up against the headboard.

“Good, now go take a bath, and then come to bed.”

“You can be in the middle tonight, if you want,” Iida offers, and Midoriya beams brightly, tiredly, before darting up to kiss his cheek, then Todoroki’s on his other side. He hops off the bed and heads towards the bath, feeling pleasantly tingly, and all-over much more confident with himself than before.

He’s incredibly lucky to have not only one, but two people who care about him so, so much.

[ghostmartyr]

Pokémon Black 2 Randomized Nuzlocke Run [Part 6]

With a great deal of things not going well, we reach the sixth part of this adventure. Who do we still have to work with?

Nessy (Milotic)

Caspet (Gengar)

Vertex (Luxray)

Diego (Gardevoir)

See, we’re fine.

Absolutely fine.

Why is this gen so enthusiastic about interrupting my post-gym walk to the Pokemon Center? Clay talks to Russell about the World Tournament, which I don’t think I have any reason to participate in. I might check it out in case people are dropping items places, but I don’t think there’s anything in it for me. I don’t think I even played it when I wasn’t doing Nuzlocke stuff.

Dang it, I was going to be excited about a new route, but this is the other end of Relic Passage, where we picked up Nessy.

Um no.

Clay, I know you mean well, or at least not badly, but. no? I don’t need to be locked into a tournament thing where the AI hates me. Come on. Just let me gallivant off into the sunset. Don’t make me fight. ;-;

(Also hi Cheren.)

Hm. It looks like I might be allowed to get out of this.

The question is if that’s an illusion or not.

Oh what the heck, let’s be stupid.

The sad thing is that even if I lose, I still have my designated survivors left.

It’s going to be fine.

Oh his Dewott is level 25.

This might actually be fine.

It was! Yay! Yay for overleveled pokemon saving me! Yay for Caspet!

I assume this ends with me facing Colress?

Good, Cheren’s stuck with level 25s too. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen with that. If they’re all stuck at that, this should be okay.

Then again, his second pokemon is a Watchdog.

Hiss.

But it works out, and now I suppose it’s time for Colress. Whose role in the plot I can’t remember for the life of me, even after he showed up in Ultra Sun.

Still 25s, but the first thing out is a Magneton. Steel is a pain. And now Caspet is paralyzed. And confused. Yet still winning, because Caspet is our eternal hero.

Okay, tournament over, and before we can be relieved about that, a Pirate Plasma grunt runs by our little squad of main characters, and Russell and Cheren speed away as Colress expresses confusion at their recklessness.

Cool. I guess I’ll be following them, then.

In a sec.

We’re on a boat.

We’re fighting pirates on a boat.

They poisoned Diego.

Because Diego’s in front and his only attacking move is Magical Leaf.

One Pokemon Center visit later, we handle the rest of the Plasma Pirates, and then the Shadow Triad teleports us off the ship and Russell is all “why I oughta.”

I guess the plot section is done for now, so I’m going to explore the other side of Relic Passage. Where Skarmory lurks. Oooh, and Wartortle in the dust clouds. Wingull is also here. Hi Kakuna.

I don’t have Strength and don’t remember if I’m supposed to at this point. Given my pokemon, if I could use it, I wouldn’t want to replace a slot on anyone, but it would be nice to know. This is why taking months off in the middle of a run doesn’t work out well.

Aww, hi Charmander. And Shelmet.

Yeah, there’s a door I can’t get to without Strength, so I guess the Relic Passage adventure will be cut slightly short.

Can NPCs be banned from having Watchdog?

I guess I’ll start marching back to Chargestone. Diego up front in the hopes that he’ll soon learn something besides Magical Leaf.

This is why the games have you catching pokemon at the levels they do. If you catch them in the wrong spot of their development, it can be really, really awkward.

The plot is never over in this gen.

Oh, he gives us Surf so we can investigate radical temperature drops around the region. Because he doesn’t like the cold. Cheren, you big baby.

But Surf! Nessy, you’ve got yourself a new move!

Aw dang it. One of the scientists offers me a Deerling. Sorry my friend, I only play with the randomized options.

Ah, and I do have Strength. Oh well, not using it.

Gesundheit.

Oh hi Suicune 2.0. I have no interest in catching you. Scoot.

Dang it, the water has Dewott.

For the manyeth time, I regret that I should only ever use the Randomizer in Nuzlockes. I would not have the self-control to ever focus on my team if I had the freedom to catch whatever I wanted. The squad would change up every single badge. It would be ridiculous and takes two hundred hours.

But Dewott.

But new route! What do you have for me, cave of darkness that I don’t care to explore because I really can’t stand it being this dark?

BITCHING.

Heck, how do I catch this.

I don’t have Quick Balls yet.

Ummm.

Well. I think it’s safe to say that Magical Leaf won’t kill it. Right? Right.

Magical Leaf does as close to nothing as it can without being Splash.

And it knows Crunch, so Diego, let’s. get you out. Vertex, buddy, you’re up.

!

Spark paralyzed Rayquaza! Good boy, Vertex.

Now I pretty much have to risk a Bite.

Vertex.

Please do not get a crit. Crits are for fighting, not catching.

Good boy!

Now comes the endless catching. I have one Ultra Ball, and more than twenty Poke Balls and Great Balls each. Rayquaza’s in the red and paralyzed. This should be okay. Unless it knows something horrific that isn’t Crunch.

Ultra Ball fail. Twister. Twister is fine.

Luxury Ball doesn’t even get a roll. Same for round two. Last one gets a roll, but only one. So. Poke Ball and Great Ball spam it is.

Several turns later, no one’s dead and nothing’s caught.

Several turns later, same.

Down to single digit Great Balls.

HA. GUESS WHO WINS THIS ROUND.

...

Does.

Does its pokedex entry really say Sky High Pokemon?

That is perfect.

Names, though. It needs a name. The only character name I can remember from Sky High is Warren’s, and I don’t want to name Rayquaza Warren. Sooo. Names.

Superhero has to be the theme, but what heroes do I actually like that can fly... and aren’t too obvious, sorry Clark. Hmmmm. Oh, got it. This isn’t one I’m familiar with, but after seeing Captain Marvel, gotta go with topical and fun.

Welcome to the team, Photon!

I hope I don’t kill you like I’ve killed all my legendaries before!

And now the journey of getting Diego a useful move continues.

Oh, wait, I’m sorry Photon. I forgot to introduce you properly.

Photon is Timid and very finicky. Cute. Your Speed shall be appreciate for hours to come, hopefully.

Neat, there’s Lampent the next level down. ...Less neat, it burned Vertex. I really need to get into the habit of buying recovery items when I’m in a Center. I’m going to put on a Max Repel and wait to find someone down here who hopefully likes healing wayfaring trainers.

Yay, a doctor to battle!

More games should have you fight a doctor into giving you free medical care.

Pansear is also in the lower levels.

Duuuude, and Fraxure! Hello favorite Dragon line! Hello!

The Ace Trainers in this cave think Triple Battles are cool. I guess this is technically a Rotation Battle that I’m doing now, but in any case, I don’t care for the added stress of two more pokemon to deal with in a Nuzlocke. Scary.

NESSY NO.

I should maybe leave the cave.

...What’s a Ferrothorn doing down here? That isn’t a randomized happening. :(

There, Armaldo and Aipom. Way better.

Trainers are currently averaging one critical hit per fight. This is too many and I do not care for it.

But I have made it out of the cave, so now I can buy pertinent stuff and maybe wander into a new route. Maybe even find a better place to train Diego? Who still only has Magical Leaf? Maybe?

Such a useful tool. Sadly, I think I want to hold on to it until the plot forces me into a legendary battle. I would love to just use it on the next thing I see. Heck, maybe I will anyway.

New route time! Is it time to have a full party of six again?

Hello there. Are we friends?

...No, Amnesia + Ingrain plus a bunch of Poke Balls lost is too much of an investment. Dead route. ...Probably influenced by me catching a Lileep last time. Oh well. Still five.

Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I fucked up. I thought. Oh fuck. Oh no.

-whimpering noises-

I screwed up. I screwed up. I’m so used to just clicking through the attacks and I saw that Surf would affect everything because it’s a proper Triple instead of a Rotation, and the second that registered, I was already clicking through, and Nessy is last in the lineup and.

If the Ducklett does anything to Caspet, Caspet dies.

I don’t want to hit the play button.

I’m surprised Caspet even survived the hit.

I don’t want to see what happens next.

-hits play-

THE DUCK ATTACKED VERTEX WE’RE SAVED.

Oh my gosh Caspet. Oh my gosh you’re alive. I am so sorry. So, so sorry. That never should have happened. That was entirely my bad. All on me.

Geez I need to start paying more attention.

Oh hi Azelf. What are you doing in here. Why couldn’t I find you first this route.

Photon learns Air Slash before Diego learns a Psychic attack, news at 11.

Apparently this one spot on whatever this route is (-scrolls up- 7) some kind of magnet for calls. Hi mother figure of the game, why is it you are paying me attention? I am an adult ten-year-old.

Wait, I’m sorry, what? Our mother had a canon job?

She was a Pokemon Center receptionist.

...

She had a job?

What sort of fictional mother is this???

Hi death memorial tower, I’m here to complete my party.

And get the Lucky Egg from Professor Juniper.

Thanks for always giving me stuff.

Heeeeeey. Hi you. Wanna be best friends?

Hey I have a question. Why do Net Balls not have a note about working well against Flying pokemon? I feel like some part of that is in error.

Please get in the Poke Ball.

Or the Great Ball, if you insist.

Your health is red. Why are you like this.

There we go!

I dub you Cerberus.

The wiggly grass outside is Cranidos. Neat. And hi random Volbeat.

Howdy Cerberus. You are Adamant and thoroughly cunning. A solid addition to the team. Dodrio is one of those pokemon I never had a reason to add to my team by the time I found a Doduo in the games it’s available. But Dodrio and Tri Attack and Drill Peck is just so cool. I hope Cerberus gets to stay.

Aw, Marshal took his mentor’s place stopping us from going into the mountain before we’re supposed to.

Geez, the dark grass out here has Volcarona and Exploud. I think this might be where I want to grind. Because I still want Diego to have a move besides Magical Leaf. Axew is also here.

lol I found the TM for X-Scissor. Pour one out for Boruto.

Back to the death tower we go. Where a trainer has a level 36 Musharna whose Hypnosis doesn’t have the decency to miss.

Diego is level 39.

Magical Leaf is still his strongest attack.

Hey, Lumineon is on this level. Diego, you have a use!

There’s also Elekid. I wish I had an Elekid. Elekid is amazing.

HALLELUJAH.

This next floor has Treecko.

The floor after that is the roof, not a floor, and first up is Croagunk. Followed by Glailie, nice. But I’m not going to hang around and find out if there’s anything else. I rang the bell, mild feelings were had, and now I get to figure out if I am going straight to the gym or training some more.

Lumineon does make for very easy training.

It’s on the floor right next to the nurse.

I’ll do a little of that. Let Vertex muscle up before his moment in the sun.

Huh, Granbull’s on this floor too. I almost thought Daffy, then my brain caught up with what was going on.

Vertex is at 40, so Photon you help out Cerberus.

Or not, this is boring. I’m just going to try out the Gym.

Extra much, Skyla?

Random Gym Mook has a level 37 Swoobat.

Had.

Vertex ate it.

This is closer in level than I really like for Nuzlockes, but it is a Flying Gym. It should be okay, even with the cursed Unfezant awaiting us.

I really don’t care for this Gym redesign. I don’t mind Gyms giving you a puzzle to work on, but this is just gusts of wind that make you hide behind things periodically. It’s not difficult or thought provoking. Just mandated slowness.

It also doesn’t involve cannons. Major, major downgrade.

If I win you have to change your Gym. That’s the rule.

Level 37 Swoobat. It seduces Vertex. Vertex elects to not attack his new love. Twice. Then Heart Stamp makes him flinch. Twice. Then Vertex is still in love. Again.

...

Vertex.

She is going to kill you.

I have to send Nessy out now. Oh look, one Surf finished it.

Unfortunately, the next thing up is a level 39 Swanna. The 4x effectiveness is worth using a turn up on healing. That’s settled, and Vertex is down to 67 HP to face... a Skarmory? Huh. Okay. Level 37. I think I’ll let Vertex have a shot for a turn, but if it goes as badly as it might, Nessy will probably be called in.

Hm. Agility, Steel Wing, and Vertex can win with one more hit of Spark.

Skyla’s probably going to heal, but oh well, give it a try bud.

Cue Hyper Potion, yeah. But Skarmory is paralyzed, and potions don’t cure that, so I’ll take it.

Coolio, that’s a victory.

Badge number six, a full team, and no deaths.

Phew.