#the yellow and purple itches my brain

[koukaaa-descent]

Ajhsajzu Ik her design is quite default (except colors and high boots yeah)

But I hope you'll enjoy drawing her 👉👈

driven mad with visions because I am tired ,, I decided to color entirely with one of the water paint tools which. Was a mistake in hindsight but I think it looks okay. I may or may not have taken small liberties with the yellow. the image on the right was there for emotional support while I tried to figure out how the water paint tool worked . I hjope it's alright 😵‍💫

[halo-desert-rose]

Brits with a shit ton of eyes just itches my brain idk

Inspo and image description under cut

[ID:

A traditional drawing of Grian from Hermitcraft, and Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives, referencing a comic panel from Steven Universe.

On the left is Grian, a dirty blond man, crossing his arms and tilting his head slightly upwards and to the right to address Jon. His hair is pulled back into a bun. He has dark purple eyes. In place of his ears is a pair of small purple wings that transition to a pinkish colour at the tips of the primary and secondary feathers. The gradient is created with a combination of hatching and stippling. He wears a red jumper with baggy sleeves, with the white collar of a shirt showing. The wings in his back are folded, and are of similar colouration as his ear-wings. The purple layer at the base of the primary feathers of the larger wings are stippled over a hatched layer of pink. Grian’s nails are sharp and talon-like.

On the right is Jon, who is slightly taller than Grian and is hunched over, like he is tired. His dark brown eyes are cast slightly downwards. His hair, black streaked with white, is half-up, half-down, with half up in a bun. He wears an emerald green cardigan, a grey ‘What The Ghost’ shirt, where the ‘o’ is ‘Ghost’ is replaced with a cute and simple graphic of a ghost, and a medium brown skirt. In his left hand, he holds a black walking cane that has a loop tied to it, so that one could hang it from their wrist, and an asexual flag sticker. In his right hand is a grey tape recorder, and a black ring on the middle finger.

Above Grian is a speech bubble that says, “I think we’re gonna have to kill this guy, Jon.”

Next to Jon is a smaller speech bubble that implies a small voice, says, “Damn.”

Grian’s hair is composed of a layer of light brown with some yellow added in. His wings have a layer of pink and purple.

Jon’s cardigan is composed of a layer of light green and another of dark green. His shirt is light grey with some black. His skirt is a layer of light brown and dark brown.

Everything that is coloured in, except for Grian’s primary and secondary feathers, are coloured in by hatching.

END ID]

[quarantineddreamer]

Jyn Week Day 1: Home

I wasn't sure I was gonna post this, because it's really not my best work. But then again, with the way my brain has been lately not much is! And I wanted to participate and show our girl some love so. Fighting through the perfectionist in me and here's this little thing <3

Though the Rebels had breathed new life into the cave upon their arrival, the network of tight tunnels and sprawling caverns that made up Echo Base had a history that stretched back to a time long before the war. There were stars younger than the stone walls that surrounded them, buried beneath layers of ice so thick, it was unlikely the galaxy would ever uncover the secrets they contained.

It had not taken Jyn long to begin exploring the area, seeking hidden nooks and crannies to which she might escape. Within a week, she had formed a sprawling mental map, memorized the quickest routes to every exit, marked the nearest spaces to duck to when Draven was after her about her latest display of ‘irresponsible/reckless/unacceptable’ behavior–or, when she simply needed quiet. (Which seemed to happen more and more with each passing day spent trapped in this hellhole.)

Tonight, she was bundled in her warmest gear: every thermal layer she possessed, two sweaters, one parka, her hat and scarf, gloves, and four socks pulled one after the other till she could barely squeeze her feet into her boots, much less feel them. 

Clumsiness was the price to pay when you wanted to be up and about at this hour on Hoth–that, or frostbite. It was why, for the most part, no one on Echo Base left their beds after sundown unless they absolutely had to. In temperatures this cold, you’d have to be out of your mind to willingly leave the relative comfort and warmth of your room without very good reason.

Apparently, Jyn was out of her mind, because she’d woken from a dream–the one where the fires of Scarif blinded her one minute, and she was trapped in the cold bunker all alone the next–and crawled out from beneath her blankets. She’d dressed in the dark, moving by instinct more than anything, her skin itching and heart racing as the walls seemed to press closer and closer. Before she’d fully realized what she was doing, she had found herself fumbling by the dim yellow cast of a lantern to a place well-beyond the boundaries of Echo Base.

It would have been all too easy to take a wrong turn–and subsequently freeze to death trying to find her way back–but her body had taken care of her when her mind could not. Before too long she had arrived at a vaguely familiar antechamber, small and circular, with smooth, curving walls.

As she sat and leaned her back into their hard surface, it felt as though she were being held in the palm of some ancient, mysterious being. She took in her surroundings like someone waking up from a dream. Why had her instincts guided her here? 

Then she felt it: air, fresh air; the barest of hints of it brushing across the tip of her nose and suddenly it all made sense. She closed her eyes and drew it deep into her lungs–holding it for a moment with the gratitude of someone reuniting with a long lost friend–before releasing a slow, careful breath. It lingered in the air before her–the ghost of a scared and lonely girl—a swirling cloud of mist, glowing purple. 

Heart in her throat, Jyn lifted her eyes, seeking the source of the strange light. High above her, the chamber’s ceiling of ice and rock gave way, revealing an incredible sweep of night sky, dancing with color. Wind whistled across the opening of the cave…waves whispered upon a black-sanded shore…

“What are they, Mama?”

Her mother’s amused hum tickled at her back. “The Force paints a path home for those that are lost, my love.”

Jyn squirmed beneath the blanket, trying to find her father’s face amidst the orange, flickering shadows of the bonfire. “What are they really, Papa?” 

Mama’s head rested beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around them both, a shield from the wind. He gave her a smile; her favorite kind, the kind he gave her when he asked if she could keep a secret. “You don’t believe your mother?”

Jyn didn’t think her question had anything to do with belief, she simply wanted to know. Mama often told her stories about the Force; stories about love and anger, light and dark, and the threads that tied the world together–just like the ones her favorite blanket was made of. But Papa told her stories too; stories like what kind of soil made the plants on the farm grow, or why her skin turned red after too much time in the sun, or how to fix Stormy when his arm fell off. Mama’s stories were stories she saw and felt on the inside, while Papa’s were ones she held in her hands. But they were both a part of her, pieces she carried with her wherever she went. 

She studied the sky again, following the splashes of purple and green and blue as they wove their way between clusters of stars. She wondered what it would feel like to stand on one of the rippling bands of light; tried to imagine stepping one foot after the other across the horizon as her mother had described. Maybe it would be warm, like sand in the sun, or maybe it would be more like waves lapping at her feet, cold and tingly. 

“A scientist’s daughter through and through,” Mama laughed. “I recognize that look in her eyes…”

Jyn wasn’t sure what exactly she meant by that, but she tore her gaze away from the lights in the sky and turned towards her father instead, ready for his answer.

His skin shimmered green, then blue, and back again, the same colors as the ones that hung in the air above them. “The path your mother spoke of is made of particles, shed by our planet’s suns.”

Jyn frowned at this. “But it’s nighttime.”

“Just because we cannot see something, does not mean it is no longer there,” Papa explained, reaching over to tug the blanket back over her shoulders. “Tonight, the aurora reminds us that the suns have not left us, and they will rise again tomorrow.”

She twisted to face Mama again. “So the suns are the Force?”

“The Force is the suns,” her mother murmured reverently, “and the wind, and the waves, and the sand beneath you. It’s the salt on your tongue when you breathe in and…” she smiled as she poked Jyn’s nose with the tip of her finger, “that means it’s a part of you, and me, and your Papa too.”

Jyn settled into her parent’s arms again and shut her eyes, feeling for the Force her mother spoke of. She wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like. 

But she thought there might be some truth to her parents’ words, because though she could not see them anymore, she could sense them there beside her. The comfort of her mother’s heartbeat under her ear, the warmth of her father’s breath as he bent to press a kiss to the top of her head. 

And if she were to find herself lost and standing amidst the aurora, she felt certain this was where they would bring her.

The colors of the sky began to blur and run together. Jyn wiped roughly at her eyes, urging tears away before they could turn to frost upon her cheek. Hoth was more than a far cry from the beaches of Lah’mu, yet she felt closer to it now than she had in a long time.

“Beautiful,” a voice murmured, echoing quietly off the stone around her. 

Jyn started, turning towards the rasp of footsteps. “Cassian…” Leave it to the spy to find her in the middle of a labyrinth in the dead of night.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked warily, taking one last self-conscious swipe at her face with the sleeve of her coat. 

“Not long,” he answered, lingering at the entrance to the cavern.

But long enough… Jyn figured. She heaved a short sigh and returned her gaze to the aurora, an ache in her chest. “There were lights like this on Lah’mu,” she murmured, an explanation of sorts–though Cassian had not asked for one. 

He ducked past the icicle that hung in from the tunnel’s opening and silently came to sit beside her, his shoulder brushing against her own. Though it barely made a difference in a cold this numbing, Jyn found herself drawing comfort from the warmth of his body beside her. 

“How’d you find this place?” he asked softly. 

She glanced at him, but he was looking at the lights above, granting her a reprieve from the weight of his stare. “How’d you find me?” she countered. 

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but his eyes were serious when they landed on her again. “I went to your room and you weren’t there. For a moment I thought…” he shook his head and took a sudden interest in his boots.

“You thought I’d left?” 

“I didn’t know what to think. I checked the infirmary next.” There was an odd strain to his voice, something she couldn’t quite place. “No one had seen you there either, so I headed towards the perimeter,” a small smile crossed his lips, “I’ve noticed you wander to the edges of Base when you’re trying to avoid Draven.”

“Of course you did,” Jyn remarked. “Then what?”

“I followed the light…” 

“And it led you here…” The memory of her mother’s story–still fresh in Jyn’s mind–began to mingle with words Cassian had once spoken to her. The kyber crystal she wore seemed suddenly heavier than it had a moment ago, a hand resting over her heart. 

She thought of Bodhi, Chirrut, Baze, even K2. Of all the people who she had gotten to know because of the Rebellion. People who had her back. People who might not understand all of her, but who accepted her nonetheless.

“Hoth is the first time we’ve really slowed down since Scarif,” Cassian said, ignoring her sudden glance at the mention. “I know it can be hard to adjust to life in the Rebellion.”

A tentative smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Yeah,” she replied, catching a ripple of light and shadow as it wandered across his face. “I've been feeling lost…but I think I’m beginning to find my way.”

[merakiliving]

7/6/24

Testing out a fresh digicam over the weekend with my partner. Playing with purple and yellow tones gives me SO much satisfaction. It's like scratching an itch except the itch is somewhere between my brain and eye.

Harry Potter / The Little Prince / Starbucks / Instant Ramen / Eyelash Wishes / Journey - Open Arms / Lucky Pocket Gnomes

[wild-dagon]

I have lots of thoughts on a dragon!link color scheme but I think my favorite is to make their color purple in order to match with the master sword or maybe the green from the master sword. Yes blue is Link’s color in these games, but the idea of Link merging with the master sword just hit that right but in my mind.

Doesn’t it just itch the right parts of your brain.

I really do love the idea of Spirit Dragon Link having the colors of the master sword. I always saw it as purple and blue (like Fi)

Fi’s blue is pretty close to the champion blue so it works.

The only question is should I do the back spikes in blue? Gold (like the details on the master sword) or do I make them yellow, green, red, and blue for the champions? Like they change with the light like and Aurora borealis?

I just really love Link having the colors of the master sword

[liliallowed]

I have some questions on how Crimson's unusual body works cause they make my brain itch.

Do they have nerves? Do their nerves just not work? Can they be influenced by poison or alcohol? If their brain would become damaged from blunt force or anything of the sort, would they have the certain senses that work for them be effected? (Sight) Could you blind them? How does level and magic and determination effect their organic mass?

Sorry for all the questions I just want to rip open this demon and study them.

Lab Coat Anon

well, their soul pumps determination throughout their whole body. instead of blood it's pure condensed manifestation of will power.

they DO bleed but it's more of a pleasantry or a mocking gimmick of what sans would pull off with ketchup bottles.

their body does have blood but after a certain amount of cuts they'll just stop bleeding and run out of blood... but has no affect on their movement or health. blood is more like a decorative fluid that's just there sometimes and other times it isn't.

there ARE particular things that they CAN physically feel despite their lack of nerves. how? let's just say it has more to do with how their mind works rather than their body.

as for how much magic affects them? well they're practically a walking zombie. even without an arm or leg they can still run around and crawl over the place if they have ONE hp left. like... it's difficult to even consider their body biologically bound... then again it still functions like organic mass.

possession shenanigans and determination, undying soul blah blah blah. that stuff.

healing food literally allows them to plop back lost limbs back in place or just glitch back to their default. EVEN THEIR CLOTHES REGENERATE with their DEF.

light blue magic causes harm to their soul but not their organic body. the body will get chilly if they move through the attack though.

the body does take DIRECT damage from RED attacks. (not that sans can canonically use red attacks but still. if Asgore faced them? they'd need to worry about both their vessel AND themself)

orange attacks give them faint burn marks if their soul stays still.

yellow shocks their body AND SOUL. it stuns them for a few seconds.

purple restricts the movement of their soul but their body can move independently based on their will to act fight or spare.

dark blue affects BOTH their body and their soul at the same time. it physically and spiritually YEETS them.

as for senses... no you can't blind them or make the deaf. they don't need physical "eyes" to see... they CAN be gagged and lose their speaking privileges though.

so if you plan on on playing hide and seek they'll find you even if you're in a concrete box :3

[chocobothis]

Jila Fic Excerpt

Notes: My brain’s been itching with writing Jila and combining it with where season three of The Mandalorian ended this happened. The longer fic gets into more with how Jila’s feeling after being pushed further into the spotlight while navigating fraught politic relations between different factions. It also gets into her feelings about her dead father and how she hopes he would view her.

Mando’a Dictionary:

cyar’ika: Darling, Sweetheart

buire: Parents (lit. plural of mother & father; in this case it’s Bo-Katan Kryze & Solus Ve’tra)

jang’eyayah: Clones (lit. Jango Echo)

---

Tarre dropped onto the makeshift bench in a sprawl of too long limbs. Through their helmet, and even without the Force, Jila knew they were brimming with annoyance. “Moving to a forest and cutting all contact with the Galaxy. Wanna come?”

“We staying in system or what?”

The indignant scoff barely sent her into a fit of laughter. “We’re staying. Didn’t take the fucking thing back to just leave.”

Her twin was one of the few people she was truthful with about why she hung out atop the left wing of the former royal palace. Within the city proper it was one of the highest places that offered near complete solitude. Everywhere else was too low, had too many people, or was a mixture of both. Up high, alone, and in view of the stars was where her center was found. Maybe in the coming years she would be able to see the stars from here too. But, it did the job well enough.

The others were fed lies in the most sincere of tones. She picked the best vantage points to help document the city’s progress. Between her rangefinder, macrobinoculars, and her advanced HUD it took nothing to record data. Her scans were transmitted to their current headquarters where they were assembled into updates and passed on. It saved on both jetpack and ship fuel. 

Air hissed from a depressurizing helmet before the clank of beskar to beskar. A glance to her right had her eyes rolling. Of course their shorter, white hair still looked perfect. Over eight hours in a helmet meant nothing. Her own hair was frizzed to Concordia and back even with her cyar’ika’s careful braids. 

“Where did they have you today?” She hadn’t seen their name around the in-city crews.

“More underground scouting. Main objective was to check stability but to the shock of no one we had to exterminate some nests.” Their battered canteen came to their purple lips for a deep drink before passing it over. “The work itself was fine. But the group? I wanted to cave myself in by the four hour mark.”

The water bore a hint of metallic and purification tablet. They definitely refilled while under ground. “That was you? I thought the urge to collapse a building on myself came from my wiring crew.”

No effort was made to suppress an undignified snort of laughter. “You’re too dramatic to just hang yourself with cables.”

“Damn right.” Her smile was all fangs, “I wanna go out with a memorable bang.”

Beyond the busted railing they spied clusters of Mandalorians moving on about their lives. Their Buire’s Nite Owls traveled in clumps of blue beskar’gam, the color of their childhood. A stray Wren with gold trimmed black darted between clusters in a rush. Spotting the little clump of Skirata was easy even if they didn’t have a clan theme. Helmets off showed many of them as jang’eyayah children or adoptions. One of the only other clans with jang’eyayah was Ve’tra. Just behind them was the heavy, blue beskar’gam of Journeyman Protectors intermingled with some yellow Rooks. They looked happy.

[clementinefight]

(toy’s version)

Many lawn chairs circle the kidney bean shaped pool, but I’m the only person stranded in one. Beg yourself to be normal don’t you, on evenings like this, when loneliness is a leash, and it makes you a fence, and nobody, nobody, nobody can come inside. Go inside, I wish I would. Go inside, maybe I will in a minute.

Have been out in the backyard for over an hour, under swelling tree shadows, waiting on Immi to arrive. I’m always waiting on Immi to arrive, and always wanting to wait on Immi’s arrival. Nothing better than that. Only, thinking about her showing up now, the bells in my chest teeter over into an excruciating anxiety. I exhale roughly, sit up and then hunch over with aims of crushing the pain away. It stays, but this does feel better. Contorted, I spot a few beautiful white blossoms on the vivid blue-green surface of the pool. Blood vibrates like mathematics in my forehead. The thoughts, my thoughts, aren’t enough of a kaleidoscope; everything is clearly screaming. My thoughts hurtle me into rooms that spell pain in every corner.

My pain transmutes, and for a minute, I can stomach it. I sit normally again, with my shades shielding me from a bit of the saturated colour around here. Pink plastic flamingos in the garden, and gnomes with red hats punctuating soil and high weeds.

Something else has been happening today, something aside from thinking about her, and pain. On Squid Street, where I live too, nobody else seems to notice the trembling sentience of the leaves in Bruce Mau’s backyard. No comment so far has been commented on that there is more electric singing from the trees this lavender dusk than usual; none about how each green leaf seems energetic and physical in its hanging expectantly there, like they’re not just hanging but lifting, launching; like each leaf is a hand with a brain that operates it, like each brain has a lettuce domination agenda and that agenda is to get close to human skin and, once close enough, to eat it.

That tree wants to smell me, touch me, be a part of me, I think.

My gaze rolls up the trunk of the tree closest to me. Maybe life as the object that is pushed down the throat of Warm and into the stomach rivers of Acid wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it would be good and nice, and I would be just like a bare foot slipping into its perfect satin heel; found and held by the blue-black-green enclosure like I’ve never felt held by anything else before, not childhood, not people, nothing else. That tree is so beautiful, slanting down over this suburban backyard like a swan neck, that for a minute or two I think we’re in love. I let my body relax, and because everybody else is inside, I push my hips upwards towards it. The tree reacts. Bony white blossoms erupt from its branches like silent, soft and fuzzy bombs. One tiny petal, loose like a broken wing, falls down onto my lip and sticks to the gloss there.

My shiny lips, my purple eyeshadow, my hair wild as—

I did all this to attract her, to walk her into my net again.

A branch is like textured brown vertebrae. A branch is an itch I can’t scratch. If Immi were here already, she’d tell me what else a branch is like. Maybe she would say something that would get me thinking about her all night. Something suggestive. Whip, pencil, road of many forks. She doesn’t need to stoke it. All nights, I already think about her.

Still the tree is too big. That tree is so big it’s going to eclipse me, not even eclipse me but bury, put me down.  Suddenly, we’re not lovers; I cool towards the whole thing. I envision my soggy eyeballs like silvery flower-heads growing on stalks up, up and through a barrage of green density to wave like pink flags of birth upon a whole new world. At that thought, I’m warm again. I will be queen of the conquered land, the fallen humans, the scratching yellow woods that have overcome, brother to time, the shopping malls, the movie theatres, the diners, personal kitchens and bathrooms and cars, the gas stations, the wooden gymnasiums, the funeral homes, the pale hospitals, the polka dot dressing rooms, the amusement parks, the baseball diamonds, my body self. 

And with no body, the fallen petals of my hands will flutter in a cold wind after Immi’s ankles.

Last time I was here in Bruce Mau’s backyard, the trees just weren’t this important; they weren’t like a frustrated ceiling pulsing to an inward peak over my head. Maybe the way I look at the world automatically suffocates, but it’s like I’m in a closed lime-room rather than outdoors. It’s like I’m in a house of leaves, and the house is breathing, the house is hungry.

I want you, too, maybe, I think, low from in my lawn chair. But only because you’re preferable to tonight and tomorrow.

All that proves I’m still outside and not locked away at the bottom of a wizard’s jar is the balmy, pushing air. I look up again, up at the trees. Yes, they are getting closer. They arch over my head like a dark green canopy and, as I stare, a kelp-smelling wind rustles through the thick enchanted broccoli treetops, coming from the sea at the bottom of town, way down at the end of Squid Street. The wind lifts my curly hair, tossing the dark strands wildly around my head.

“You want me?” I whisper. “Say you want me.” Do you ever practice intimate things with empty air? But it is her eye at the end of each leaf.

It’s all real. Can’t get out of it. It’s all real. Can’t get out of it. 

The light isn’t tricking me, the light just is, and while bright it can still exist in the dark minutes.

I’m not sad because of the gigantic trees that hunger for me, but because last night feels like the furthest night of my life when it should feel the closest; I couldn’t take a boat to reach it, those hours with her in my bed — coconut nectar skin, her hair on me like multiple collapsing breezes. I’m sad because she’s not here yet, hours after she said she’d be, I’m sad because this makes last night slide further and further off; until last night is an white island I spot in the black distance when I was just right there. A fear cold as moon scale lands in the divide between now and then, and though maybe I look business as usual on my outside screen, where my face pokes up unmoved, inside my body-house it is dark with a clawing dark, my nerves feel hole-punched and knuckle-clenched, my eyes are hot and watery behind my sunglasses, and I don’t know anybody. Everybody’s been to a party like that, where they sit in a individual court and don’t know anybody.

So take me, treacherous court of leaves, take me.

I was last here in the winter, here in Bruce’s backyard. That was when Immi was dating Bruce and from that alone I nearly died, but somehow I lived and laughed in the meantime; the war-town backyards were bare still and white still and piled window high still with crystal mattresses of snow still. Even the brightly striped lawn chairs all appeared pale and salted and dim then. Things take up more space in August than they do in December, don’t they? Sure they do. People, oh, people do. Immi especially lifts like a neon balloonist in the summertime, a July giant, she is a strange hot plasticine that seeps and takes, with the power of eight pitch-black octopus arms, over my heart’s deserted beaches.

But if people become gems in the summer, what happened to me? I’m statuesque, peanut-butter brittle, an icicle in an environment so beautiful and warm that it, in natural reaction to me, has now turned hostile. Out here alone on the lawn chair, I’m getting smaller, smaller. Nobody who saw me would even believe I’m thinking like this. To them I’m just somebody sitting  dumbly in a chair. I wonder if I even look like I’m waiting for confirmation? If my roaring bellyache emits a visual signal, or if this is all a whine that only the neighbourhood dogs can pick up. Miniature Toy. Couldn’t move if I wanted to. Do you ever think like that to yourself, that you’d like your body to be more liquid and play more to current events. But you can’t, you’re locked in yesterday, or in the last ten years. You’re down and out and nobody knows it, they only think you’ve got a bad, shy, or awkward attitude.

Put it plainly. I’m going to lose her. I’m an ant, anyway, an ant about to lose her queen. Because I showed my cards, and tomorrow I’m out of here on a plane to the other end of the country. There’s just not enough space now to let the strangeness loose, to let it roam. And there’s too much space to jump back to how it was before. Ordinary friendship, nothing hot, nothing hot. I can picture the dead end of our letters already. Cool like the splash on the fire makes.

It occurs to me; I have to go inside, I actually do. Into the party, amongst the shadow bodies, and have things there like Polite dish soap or Responsible toilet paper or Chaperone broom or Playful darts to capture and bring towards my being as props. I look towards the house; the red bricks are beginning to decline into block of shadow under the maroon belt of dusk, but two big window-boxes glow orange still, and pastel blue, pink, and gold streamers flutter against the glass. If Immi does look for me, I can’t be found out here, open, heart on the ground, defenceless; like that, our eyes and hearts will naturally meet in too exposed a meadow; everything will be obvious. If she has come with a hammer for me and my desire, then it will be too obvious, and I will have no props to stop me from appearing exactly as I am; crashed under the blow, and with a broken dream generator still dreaming of her knees.

Through little gaps in the tree-palace leaves, spots of orange sunset jump and flicker, excited cinders. Real evening already, and no my-girl, no gift-eyed Immi. I want to take those bars of slipping sun and break them over the knee. I don’t want another day. I want just last night, last night, capital L and N, L is the captain of lakes, locks and listening, N the controller of navigation and nickels. I want last night alone, and not the subtraction after.

[kaonarvna]

Getting to know people better

tagged by @matadorofheart ages ago (oops)

Last song: "party at club bug" by spellcasting. It's not the sort of thing I usually listen to (see: symphonic metal, power metal, etc) but it's,, it's itching the grooves in my brain in a very specific way. I like it.

Favorite color: red? green-blue? I have tritanomaly/I'm blue-yellow "colourweak" (as opposed to blind), so some colours are...messy! I'll call something green and people will tell me it's blue. I'll call something grey and people will tell me it's purple. There's a reason I have labelled colour palettes/wheels/etc to pick from as external references when I do art nonsense! The hiler system is my favourite tool atm, flawed as it is. (favourites in red)

Last movie/TV show: i think the last movie I watched was the new Barbie? It's good! I expected more from it, oddly enough. Any time Will Ferrell is in something I get a little concerned, but he wasn't that much of a distraction. I saw it in theatres with a colleague, as a Treat. We were the only pair of two grown men there.

Sweet/spicy/savory?: Savory! Crunchy!

Relationship status: Married! Technically a civil partnership, but my spouse and I went that route because it doesn't have any religious language tied up in it, legally speaking. The country we're in uses some religious-based (Christian) vows in its legal marriage ceremonies, and, well, I'm an atheist and he's Sikh/atheist (culturally Sikh, as it were). So, civil partnership it is!

Last thing I googled: "Heidegger ff7 original model" I refuse to explain myself.

Current obsession: FFVII! It's been a good decade and a bit of on and off fixation, particularly on Sephiroth and Genesis. Sephiroth currently has my gay ass in an absolute choke hold. 10/10 would let him skewer me in several ways.

Currently have a smaller but very real obsession with rainworld! It's so lovely and punishing and inspires a real atmospheric fear that makes my brain go "!!!". I've not played too much yet, but I do just love it, I'm "watching" stupid lore video after video (they're on in the background).

Tag People: no! If you want to do this, by all means, tell the world I told you to.

[hauntxd]

🎵, 🍪, 🎧, 🧡, 🦖

🎵 code mistake by corpse x bmth, it itches the best parts of my brain

🍪 a chocolate chip cookie without the chocolate chips

🎧 earbuds!!

🧡 orange, yellow, and purple make wanna vomit

🦖 megalodon!! i luv sharks

thank u!!! u are the sweetest

[magician-hero]

WHY I HATE POKEMON SCARLET AND VIOLET’S 3D ART STYLE

So i hate the art style of the official games. I wasn’t able to put a finger on it for the longest time so fiddled around with an official screenshot until I got what I wanted. 

(this is all copy and pasted from my original twitter post) first of all 1. lack of contrast. i tried putting more contrast in my edit so parts of Iono's hair would stare out more and most of my stylization spurred out from there. i think making things having more contrast and making things flatter again might be a lot more appealing

second of all 2. lack of loyalty to the original design. i didn't edit parts of this too much but parts of iono are noooot the same from the 2d render and i think the stylization adds a little more character. as i heard in school some colors can look out-of-the tube. making iono's eyes pink and having white highlights makes sense but the purple-yellow contrast feels more creative and colorful. same with the untraditional color of her mouth. that's all, disclaimer i don't think im better than anyone working at Nintendo. these are just criticisms and suggestions that will hopefully itch someone else's brain as well.

btw my mom saw this and thought my edit was official so i win    

[angelicyoongie]

everything i brew, i brew it for you

⤷ 1.2k follower event request: Familiar!Seokjin x Witch!Reader + “I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave.” + Fluff/Angst ⤷ @softescapism​ said: seokjin x reader or OT7 x reader + prompt C8 + witch/familiar, fluff, sfw (hi! could you write a drabble/scenario/short fic for the follower event based on this, please? 💓) ⤷ word count: 2.1k ⤷ a/n: this is a little angsty in the beginning, but the ending is all fluff! i hope you like it!!

“There you are!” You grumble, snatching up a vial from the back of your cabinet. The little thing is covered with dust, the label yellowed with age and barely clinging on to the glass. But even then, there’s no mistaking the content. The shimmering pink powder inside makes you stomach flip uneasily, but you know it has to be done. You uncap the bottle before you can talk yourself out of it, carefully sprinkling the powder counter-clockwise into the boiling concoction in your pot. You can’t help but frown as it slowly turns from clear to bright pink, the stark colour mocking you as you throw in a pair of four leaf clovers with a little more force than necessary. The kitchen is quiet aside from the bubbling brew and the rhythmic tapping of your impatient fingers against the counter, your eyes resting nervously on the dark garden outside your window. You promised Seokjin years ago that you would never make this particular potion again, but you’ve run out of options.

You love being a potions witch, but truth be told, it’s probably the worst financial decision you could have made. All witches have to choose their niche the day they turn eighteen, and you, driven by the long list of potions witches in your ancestry, wanted to follow in their footsteps. What you didn’t account for however, is just how drastically the times have changed. Larger covens have started selling their potions online, making them in big batches to cut down on the cost and shipping them all across the country. There’s no longer a need for a town to have their own potions witch, not when you can get them delivered to your doorstep for a cheaper price. The mass produced potions are definitely not as potent as a singularly brewed ones, but it seems people care more about price than efficiency these days. Well, at least most people don’t care. And considering business has been dwindling so alarmingly fast over the last four months that you’re barely scraping by, there’s not a chance that you can lower your prices anymore than you already have.

You shake your head, trying your best to ignore the tendrils of guilt wrapping around your chest. As long as your familiar doesn’t find out about this order, there will be nothing for him to worry about. That's why you’re hunkered over the stove in the first place; desperately hoping that it will be done in time before he comes home. Tonight is Seokjin’s monthly familiar night with Hoseok and Namjoon, and the only window of alone time you have to make something like this. You murmur a quick incantation under your breath as you give the potion one last stir, watching as the pink brew slowly darkens to red. The sickly sweet smell that whiffs up from the cauldron almost makes you gag, but at least it tells you that the potion is almost complete.

You take a step back, throwing another glance towards the window as you count down the seconds in your head. Five minutes. That’s all you need. It’ll be finished, and you can finally hand over the love potion to your customer tomorrow. Despite your reservations and Seokjin’s hatred for that particular brew, it’s actually not that bad. It can’t force someone to fall in love, but it does make them more .. loose-lipped around their crush if they happen to have one. If anything, it’s honestly more of a rebranded truth serum. It does make you want to confess your feelings, and that’s also where the dubious morality of the potion comes in. Even if the person is already in love with someone, it still forces the recipient to act on emotions that they might not be ready to, or even want to share with their crush. You’ve turned down requests for this potion numerous times in the past, but this time, you truly can’t afford to. Seokjin might be older, but he’s still your familiar. Your responsibility. It’s not his fault that he decided to create a bond with you – a witch who can hardly sell enough potions to keep food on the table. You have honestly no idea how you managed to end up with a familiar like him, one that’s so utterly selfless and helpful. Seokjin’s guidance and assistance feels a little wasted on you, and you can’t help but think that your familiar should’ve ended up with a different witch. One that would actually be able to repay him properly for everything he does. You let out a deep sigh. You’ll just have to do better. Maybe you can try to set up one of those witchgram accounts Taehyung is doing so well on, after all, the ritual witch’s sales has been increasing.

The brew suddenly releases a puff of red smoke, signaling its completion. You hastily grab an empty bottle, scooping up as much as possible as you fill the vial to the brim. ”Shit, not yet,” You can suddenly feel the familiar itch behind your right ear, a telltale sign that Seokjin will be home soon. You scramble to turn off the oven as you hear your familiar open the back door, just about managing to shove in a cork at the top of the bottle and hide it behind your back as Seokjin steps into the kitchen.

”Hey! How was your night out?” You lean awkwardly against the counter, bottle digging into your back as you press it flush against your body.

”It was good,” Your heart flutters as Seokjin comes closer, the handsome features never failing to make your heart skip a treacherous beat. ”How was your night?” Your familiar raises an eyebrow as he takes in your awkward posture, the lingering scent of magic in the air betraying what you’ve been up to while he was gone.

”Boring! You know, just very normal and .. boring,” You wince. You breath hitches as Seokjin stalks closer, the frown tugging on his lips causing another wave of guilt to crash through you. You brain shuts down as he cages you in against the counter, and you swear you only blink before you find yourself staring at a red vial in front of your face, your hand grasping around air.

”I see,” Seokjin huffs, ”It’s so very boring and normal to brew a potion we agreed we wouldn’t sell.” As Seokjin stares down at the bottle with disdain before he places it on the counter, you can’t help but shrink against the wood, wracking your brain to figure out a good excuse. You can’t explain why you did it without exposing Seokjin to yourfinancial issues, and you have no plans of doing it – but, then you catch your familiar’s gaze, his kind eyes filled with saddened disappointment as he says, ”Y/n, why would you do this behind my back?”

The reason bubbles up your throat before you can stop it, the words bitter on your tongue as you blurt out a panicked, ”I had to! Business isn’t going well and we need the money, I couldn’t turn the customer away.” You register the flash of shock in Seokjin’s eyes, the purple tint around his brown irises brightening before he gets it under control. Your familiar runs a hand through his hair, leaving the dark locks messy and disheveled as he let out a deep sigh.

”For how long has this been going on?” You slump against the counter, adverting your eyes down to the floor as you mumble, ”Four months. I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave. I thought I could fix it before it became too much of a problem .. I just didn’t want to make you regret choosing me.”

Seokjin’s eyes soften, an exasperated huff of air leaving his lips as he places his fingers under your chin, tilting your head back up. ”Y/n, I would never regret choosing you as my witch,” Your familiar keeps his gaze locked with yours, his eyes urging you to understand the sincerity behind his words. "I just wish you had told me, we could have worked this out together much earlier.”

”I didn’t want you to worry,” You frown. "You already do so much by making deliveries and gathering ingredients, and I didn’t want to burden you more." You feel your breath hitch as Seokjin’s hand moves from your chin to cup your cheek, his touch gentle as he runs his thumb across your skin.

“That’s what I’m supposed to do as your familiar, Y/n. I’m here to help you and guide you, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me when something’s wrong.” You know that, you really do, but it’s still hard to accept sometimes – the fact that you can’t solve everything on your own.

“I’m sorry,” You pout.

”I know,” Seokjin nods, a faint smile on his lips as he moves his hands to your back, pulling you into a hug. ”Just talk to me next time, yeah?”

”I will, I promise,” Your voice is muffled by the thick material of his sweater, but you know your familiar hears you as his arms tighten around your waist in response.

”Good,” Seokjin’s voice is fond as his fingers draw small patterns against your back. You feel yourself relaxing into Seokjin’s hold, your body melting against his as he rests his head on top of yours. ”How are we going to fix it though? I’ve tried almost everything I can think of. There’s nothing that beats low prices and convenience,” You sigh.

”Of course there is,” You pull back at the affronted tone in Seokjin’s voice, your familiar looking down at you like you personally offended him. Seokjin releases you from his hold, his hands flying up to cup his face as he says, ”I can beat that. This–” He points wildly at his face, ”–is sure to bring business in again. No one can resist the opportunity to glance upon this handsome face.” You snort at the expectant expression on his face, rolling your eyes so hard it feels like they’re close to popping out. As much as you like teasing Seokjin for his confidence, he’s not wrong. There’s no one in this town that can come close to Seokjin’s handsomeness, and well, everyone knows it. That’s the biggest reason you have Seokjin running errands and making deliveries, because it means he won’t have to deal with being ogled by all the customers that stop by. For all the banter and smiles he would flash at your customers, you could tell it made your familiar uncomfortable. You could see the way he gently tried to pull away when touches lingered a little too long on his arms, his ears stained a permanent red the days he worked out in the shop.

”Making money isn’t worth it if means you’ll have to do something that makes you uncomfortable,” You shake your head, ignoring the flutter in your chest as you grasp Seokjin’s hands, pulling them away from his face.

”I’ll be fine,” Seokjin says. It’s your familiar’s turn to roll his eyes as he sees the doubtful look on your face. ”I mean it. Please trust me just this once? I’ll let you know the moment it gets too much.”

You hesitate, using the extra seconds to search his face for any uncertainty. ”Fine,” You grumble. You owe it to your familiar to at least extend the trust he has given you back to him.

”Don’t look so sad Y/n, you know you’re the only witch that gets unlimited access to my handsome face,” Seokjin grins.

”Shut up,” You groan, pushing lightly at his chest. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck as Seokjin looks down at you, and you find yourself thankful that familiars don’t have enhanced hearing, otherwise your heart would’ve surely given you away years ago. Something flickers in Seokjin’s eyes, and your familiar’s grin turns heart wrenchingly soft as he ducks his head down.

”I do mean it Y/n, you really are the only witch for me.” You freeze as Seokjin leans in, your blood rushing in your ears as you feel your familiar’s plush lips press against the corner of your mouth. As your brain finally catches up to what just happened, Seokjin has already pulled back. The spot he kissed is burning against your skin, and you barely manage to make sense of Seokjin’s warm gaze lingering on your lips before his eyes flicker behind your back, eyebrow quirking as he says, ”Now, what should we do about that potion?”  

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[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 4:

You’re paranoid. 

Terribly, terribly paranoid, and even if you’re aware of it, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Nothing you can do to quell the anxiety that wells up every time another person enters your space. Every time their skin nearly brushes yours, even accidentally, just for a split second.

It’s maddening. Nearly debilitating the way you’re flinching away from people. You can see your co-workers notice too, fellow nurses suddenly giving you odd looks every time you reject a high five. Even when you’re wearing your gloves. It’s just a panic reaction at this point- a fixation on trying to keep your quirk as least exhaustive an experience as it can be. 

On one hand, you still really dislike Bakugou- nearly hate him for bringing it up to you- but, on the other hand, he did manage to figure it out. He somehow managed to figure out what you never could, and all in a matter of minutes from your relatively short interactions. It made you think that maybe he could be really smart- if he didn’t spend so much time killing his own brain-cells with every juvenile insult he spewed at you. 

You wondered if that was just him, or he really did hate you that much. Surely he couldn’t be that much of a monster to other people, right? Right? 

Wrong. 

You remember Kirishima, how he apologized for Bakugou nearly the second he walked through the door. It hits you then that you’re definitely not the first person he’d seemed to mercilessly terrorize- you’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Actually, on second thought, maybe it makes you feel worse. No, it definitely makes you feel worse. So much worse, in fact, that just the sight of his face nearly sends you into an irrational rage. Even now, weeks after the last time he’d personally ruined your day, you were still mad. Still angry. Still cursing every time you saw those red eyes on every billboard, newspaper, and billboard in town.

Well, lucky for you, you didn’t have to look at those printed eyes anymore. Not when the real ones were right in front of you- scaring you shitless as you leave the hospital. 

You had left the hospital from the back exit, tired and crabby from your late shift, grumbling as you stepped out into the alleyway. You’d hardly seen him, just the slightest glimpse of movement behind the tall dumpsters, before he’s practically in your face.

“Jesus!” You gasp, curling your arms around your stomach. Your legs feel like jelly. “Don’t do that! Scared me half to death!”

“Oh, chill the hell out, ya fuckin’ baby. You’re fine.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, falling into step next to you.

He looks worse for the wear, just like every other time you’ve seen him, exhaustion coloring his complexion something sickly. There’s an angry purple bruise covering his cheek, a few cuts, and even more bruising dotting his scarred knuckles. A tiny, vindictive part of you thinks it serves him right, but you keep it to yourself. You’re better than that.

You want to be nice to him, truly you do, but he’s made it pretty hard. Concerning you, Bakugou’s pretty much dug his grave at this point, and he only makes it worse with his next works.

“You need to do something for me.” He orders suddenly. “Now.”

“A-are you asking me? For help? Is that what this is?”

“What? No- obviously fucking not.” He sneers, nostrils flaring. “Why the hell would I go and do something like that. That’s stupid. Weak.”

“Oh. Okay. So then two seconds ago, when you were telling me that I ‘need’ to do something for you, what was that?” You squint your eyes at him, eyebrow twitching with annoyance. “That wasn’t you asking for help?”

“No. ‘s an order.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay- an order. Because you’re totally in a position to make those.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” You spin on your heels, nearly crashing into his chest since he followed so closely behind you. Still, you figure the promixity is all the better for gesturing, so you don’t miss a beat, waving your hands emphatically. “My shift just ended, alright? That means I’m not on the clock, and you’re not a patient. I don’t have to suck it up and help you unless I want to. Understand?”

Bakugou seems to bristle at your tone, eyes narrowing as his lip curls. You just try to shrug it off. If he wants to be mad in the middle of the alley, fine- but you’ve had a long day and you’re going home. You spin around again, walking briskly into the street, and it takes him a few moments to catch up.

“I told you, Bakugou, I’m not helping you just because you tried to order me to.”

“I know.”

“Then what’re you doing?”

“Walking.”

It’s his tone; that same needling, challenging edge to it that has your blood boiling. If anyone else said that, you’d probably believe it. But he’s not just walking and Bakugou’s smirk makes that very clear.

“No. You’re following me.”

“Same fuckin’ direction. Sue me, leech.”

The street lamps cast spots that yellow out his already pale skin, and the longer you walk the more withered he looks. Bakugou seems utterly burnt out, and when you look really close, all his features are slumped. It’s a stark contrast to Dynamite’s turbo-charged public persona, and it makes you wonder why he’d even let you see him like this at all. You figure whatever it is must be making him pretty desperate.

Suddenly that same, sinking, sympathetic feeling has you letting up a bit. You slow your pace, catching his gaze as you internally curse your own soft heart.

“Okay. Fine. What’s up. What can I help you with?”

Bakugou squints his eyes, almost like he doesn’t believe you. You think that’s a little fair- most times, even you can hardly believe all that you’re capable of forgiving.

“Sleep.” He finally says, bitten out tightly under his breath. 

“You want me to help you sleep?”

“Yes. Obviously.” 

“Not obvious.” 

“Would be if you weren’t such a shitty nurse.”

“If that’s supposed to be a dig- save it.” You roll your eyes, trying to tamper down the irritation. “I did notice. That you look tired. Just didn’t mention it out of kindness, so don’t think you can start bringing my skills into question.” 

You turn down another side street, and Bakugou follows. There’s less light so you miss the way his eyes scan the lurking shadows; intense and immediate, like a habit he can’t help himself from indulging in. 

“You really live around here?” He suddenly asks, voice low and gruff.

“Yep. In the apartment complexes just up there.” You point off into the distance. “Why-”

“And your shift always end this late?”

“Yes?”

“God,” He laughs something disbelieving under his breath, rolling his eyes at you. “I was fuckin’ right. You really are the stupidest goddamn person walking the planet.”

“That’s- Do you ever think about your words? Seriously!” You huff, curling your fists. You hope it’ll quell your sudden urge to hit him. “Just because you think it, doesn’t mean you should say it! And who the hell are you to judge anyway-”

“You’re fuckin’ asking to be attacked. That’s stupid. ”

“By who?”

“Weirdos, idiot.”

“You’re the weirdo! You’re the one following me home right now!”

“I’m not following you-”

“Really? You’re not? Because right now, the way you’re walking? Maybe all of two steps behind me? On a dark street? At night? Sort of seems like creepy following is exactly what you’re doing!”

“I told you, you need to do something for me. Not leaving till you do.” He grumbles, digging a bruised knuckle into his temples. “And keep it the fuck down. Your screaming sounds like a dying animal.”

“My-” You seethe for a moment, hardly able to stand his attitude. Then you take a breath because you prided yourself on being a kind person, and kind people do not kill national heroes- even when they’re being asses. “You know, it is almost unbelievable how bad you are at asking for help.”

“Told ya, already. ‘m not fuckin’ asking for help.” 

“Then why are you even here bothering me? Go bother someone else!”

“If fuckin’ anyone else could do anythin’, believe me, I’d go to them instead.”

“God, do you even understand how rude that is?” You ask him incredulously, hand grasping at the door to your apartment building. “No, seriously, are you even aware of what you sound like to other people?”

“Not my fuckin’ problem that other people are sensitive.” 

Your eyes bulge at that, mouth nearly dropping in disbelief. You couldn’t believe him. You just couldn’t believe that a single person could possibly go through life with that callous of a mentality. It was insanity. Pure insanity. 

“So, leech, you gonna put me to fuckin’ sleep or not?” 

Just kidding- that was insanity. That sentence alone was proof of just how ridiculous your life had gotten since he’d crash landed into it. 

Bakugou seems to realize his words simultaneously, his cheeks flushing red under the outdoor lights. You almost laugh, but then he’s glaring, eyes sternly set and murderous. For a moment, you really believe he was gonna blow you up right where you were standing. 

“Say a goddamn word. Do it. I fuckin’ dare you. Leech.” He sneers. “Try me.”

“At this hour? No, uh, no thanks.”

Bakugou does seem to relax at your joke, albeit begrudgingly. He drops his shoulders, rolling his eyes, and clears his throat. “Now, seriously, you gonna fuckin’ do it or not?”

A part of you wants to say no- to hold your gift over his head, to lord it just out of reach until he figures out how to not insult you with every breath. Then you think of your job, of all the civilians who come in swearing up and down that Dynamite was a hero. And you believe them, truly, but you think that Bakugou has a long way to go. An especially long way.

But, even so, your fingers are itching again in your gloves. There’s that urge coursing through your veins, your thoughts a constant loop of heal, help, save and so it’s decided. Quickly. Almost like it was never even a question in the first place- and, knowing yourself, you suppose it never really was.

“Fine. I will. On one condition.”

“Condition? When the fuck did I say it was a negotiation. It’s not.” 

“It is and I’ll tell you why.” You spin to face him completely, jumping back when you find him much closer than expected. Your retreat till your back hits the door, but you feel no less cramped than before. “You need me. You do. Don’t bother denying it because you wouldn’t be here otherwise. And the funny thing is, I would’ve done it! Would’ve done it entirely free of charge if you just asked nicely, and-”

“Will you get to the fuckin’ point already?”

“See! That! That’s why there’s a condition! Because you’re needlessly rude! All the time from what I’ve seen. And that’s got to change. Especially if you’re gonna ask for my help more than just this one time.” 

“God- how many fuckin’ times do I need to make this clear to you? Hah?” Bakugou growls, leaning in even more. You can see it in his wild eyes- he’s trying to scare you, crowding you against the door. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you- You don’t make the fuckin’ rules here.” 

“In this I do.” You swallow nervously, trying not to let your intimidation show. “So you’re gonna listen. My condition is this- if you want me to help you, then you have to learn to play nice. That means no names, no insults, no threats, no complaints, and no attitude. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” 

Bakugou swears under his breath, eyes blazing as he holds his stare. Truthfully, it makes you nervous, but you’re not one to back down. At least, not when there’s no threat of job loss involved. So you just squint back at him, jutting your jaw out in defiance. There’s a tense few seconds of silence, his eyes searching, but then he backs off. Nostrils flaring like a bull, Bakugou relents. 

“Fuckin’ fine. Whatever. Jesus.” He swears, hand curling into a fist at his side. “If you’re gonna be such a bitc-”

“I said, no names, Bakugou.”

He just rolls his eyes, face so very pinched, and you briefly wonder if he’s going to explode. There’s anger as he suddenly shoves you away from the door, yanking it open and letting himself into the building. Then he’s stomping through the lobby, and you’re hardly able to catch up by the time Bakugou stops in front of the elevator. 

“What fuckin’ floor, leech?”

“Once again, I said no names. None. Especially not that one.” You tell him sternly, trying to keep your voice down. “And you didn’t agree. You’re not following me and I’m not helping you unless you agree.”

If possible, you think Bakugou’s expression grows even more irritated, his eyes widening as he sets his jaw. Another few seconds pass, and when he sees you won’t relent, Bakugou nods. It’s tight and strained, stunted like the acquiescence physically pains him. 

“God, you’re lucky I’m nice.” You tell him, nearly stabbing the elevator button as you press it. “Really lucky.”  

“And you’re lucky I don’t have enough energy to beat the shit out of you right now.” 

“No threats, Bakugou. You agreed.” You say easily, stepping into the elevator as it opens. 

“Had to. Because your fuckin’ terms are bullshit.” 

“Hey, no complaints. You agreed to that too.” 

You think you hear something strangled leave his mouth, but it’s swallowed up by the sound of the elevator ascending. 

Now that you’re standing in better lighting, you can see Bakugou’s face clearly. He looked bad before, but he looks worse now. There wasn’t just one bruise on his face, there was multiple- his jaw colored burgundy and his nose and lip split open. There was no blood, but there wasn’t a lot of scabbing either. It was new. These injuries were new.

You think back to that first visit- when he told you he never really got hurt. You wonder what’s been going so wrong for him lately. It seemed like all he’d done since you’d met him was get hurt. 

“Stop fuckin’ staring.”

“I-I’m not. Not like that.” You say. “I’m assessing. You’re gonna need a butterfly bandage, on your nose- skin moves too much. And a cold compress for your jaw. Maybe some disinfectant on your lip. Probably should get your knuckles wrapped too and-”

“Jesus, I fuckin’ get it.”

You roll your eyes, ready to retort, but then the elevator dings. You walk out into the hallway, Bakugou trailing behind you like a shadow. It’s not until you’re at your door, twisting your key into the lock, that you pause.

You’re about to enter your apartment, with Bakugou of all people. A guy you’re not even sure can tolerate you. And yet you’re doing it- because he needs help. Because he looks like walking death and you’ve got a first aid kit under your bathroom sink. Because he’s pretty much proved himself to be an irredeemable asshole, but yet you still can’t bring yourself to leave him out in the cold.

Because you’re an empath, and that, by default, makes you an idiot.

You turn the key. Bakugou, to his credit, looks a little uneasy, but then you’re waving him through the door, and pushing it shut behind him. 

“So, you wait here.” You gesture towards your couch, moving aside a few pillows to make him room to sit. “I’m gonna go get all that stuff I talked about.”

“So, what, you’re just like playing fuckin’ nice nurse again, now?”

“Bakugou. No attitude please- I am nice, okay? All the time. Or, at least when others are nice to me.” You say, levelling him with an unimpressed look. “And even if they’re not, I still don’t like seeing them hurt. Not if I can do something about it.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“No, but you need it. And since you’re too stubborn to ask for it, I’m just gonna have to force it on you.”

“Do you even fuckin’ hear yourself?” Bakugou prickles, voice rising. “Acting like a goddamn savior. Like you’re so fuckin’ good and holy. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You say flatly. Then you’re pivoting on your heels, leaving him behind and you grab the first aid kit. You open the bathroom door, calling over your shoulder. “And if you have such a problem with it, then leave. Nobody is keeping you here.”

You hear Bakugou swear again, so angry and seething that you almost believe he’ll take you up on your offer; but then you hear footsteps across the floor, the creaking of your couch.

You reach under your sink, pulling out the kit and a few extra rags for a compress. When you look in the mirror there’s exhaustion lacing your features, your eyes worn and dark with bags. The sight makes a part of you want to forget it all- makes you want to surrender to the ache in your bones and tell him to leave; but that’s just a small part. The larger part is telling you that you’re not spent until you’re unconscious, and that right now, Bakugou looks a whole lot worse than you feel. It’s telling you to hurry up and help him and you agree. 

When you walk back out, supplies in hand, Bakugou’s slumped on your couch. He’s got his head tilted over the back, one hand resting on his stomach and the other thrown over his eyes. He shifts at the sound of your approach, dropping his hand and as blinks blearily. You think his eyes look a little duller than before- less like raging wildfire and more like smothered embers. If you didn’t know any better it would look like begruding acceptance- but this was Bakugou, and you knew better.

“So,” You start, setting all of your things down on the couch next to him. “You wanna go to sleep now? Or wait until after I fix up pretty much the entirety of your face?” 

He looks at you unsurely, eyebrows creasing.

“Wait, actually- how are you planning to get home?” You continue, hands on your hips. “Where do you even live? Around here? Close? Because you were out in like, 10 minutes, maybe, the last time I touched you, so it’s gotta be close. You live close right? Because-”

“God, cool it with the fuckin’ word vomit. Shit’s annoying. Shut up.” He grumbles. “I’m sleeping here.”

“Who decided? You?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, striding closer to the back of your couch. You lean over him, forcing him meet your eyes. “This is what I’m talking about! With the learning to play nice thing! I would’ve let you stay here, I would’ve, had you asked. You can’t just bulldoze your way into my house and refuse to leave!” 

“Yeah? ‘n just what the fuck are you gonna do about it if I do?” He scoffs, curling his lip as he snarls. “Nothing. Because you’re so fuckin’ nice, right?”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not a bad trait and I won’t have you insulting it. I’m not embarrassed of who I am.” You try to work through your frustration, centering yourself with a deep breath. “Look, bottom line is, ask next time. Or I’m not helping you until you do.” 

“Fine. Whatever.”

You try to shrug off his petulant response, taking another calming breath as you shuck off your gloves. You replace them with latex ones from the kit, pulling the material over your fingers as you grab the antiseptic wipes. You decide to start around the cut on his nose. It’s the largest and widest, spanning over the entirety of his bridge and into his right cheek. It’s a nasty thing, deep and red, all exposed nerves beneath a thin scab and you can tell it hurts him. Bakugou fights to keep from wincing, eyes scrunching slightly as you wipe the remnants of dirt and oil from his skin. 

“This from another villan?” You ask calmly, finding an easy peace in performing familiar tasks. “One today?”

“Cuts are from today. Bruises were yesterday.”

Blinking down at him, you’re a little surprised by how easy his answer was. You expected him to fight, to be difficult just because he could, but Bakugou wasn’t doing that. He was lying relatively and still and sated under your fingertips, the only sign of any tension are his minutely pinched eyebrows. Briefly, you check your gloves- for a moment there you were sure you’d accidentally touched him.

“Oh. Okay.” You reply, taking a small butterfly bandage from your kit. You press it over the cut with gentle pressure. “How’s the other guy look?”

“Fuckin’ terrible. Beat ‘em to hell.”

“I’m sure you did.” You snort, moving on to clean the cut on his lip. “Hey, you wanna know something?”

Bakugou peeks a red eye open, studying your face above him. He nods.

“I actually end up treating a lot of your victims, you know.” 

“Criminals. Not victims.”

“Mhm. Sure. Well, either way, they’re always covered in burns. Mostly minor, but sometimes pretty nasty ones.” You try to keep your voice light, even and steady as you dab at his lip. “Honestly, at this point, I’m pretty sure you’re entirely responsible for the hospital’s chronic burn-cream shortage.”

Bakugou does seem to smile at that, exhaling through his nose as his eyes flutter briefly. “Wouldn’t be fuckin’ short if people just stopped tryin’ to pull stupid shit all the time. ‘s not my fault they’re so fuckin’ bad at running away.” 

“Bakugou.” You balk, unable to keep the laugh from bubbling out your lips. “You can’t say that!’ 

“Why the fuck not? Hah? It’s true.” 

“Because! You’re supposed to be playing nice, remember?”

“Yeah. To you.” He mumbles, voice rough and raspy. “Because you fuckin’ schemed your way into forcing me. They didn’t.” 

“Okay- First, I’m like, pretty sure schemed and forced are the same thing, so we definitely don’t need to say them both. It’s just overkill. Second, that’s a borderline insult, so I’m gonna need you to watch your mouth. And third,” You cradle his jaw in your fingers, turning it to the side. “How the hell did you manage to get a bruise behind your ear?”

“I don’t know- probably the same way you somehow managed to become a nurse; even with such shitty fuckin’ bedside manner. You suck, leech.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Bakugou!”

He cracks his eyes open, something small and pleased settling at the corner of his mouth. There’s almost as much venom in his voice as before but his eyes are softer now. They’re kinder, crinkling just slightly at the edges. 

He’s joking. You realize. He doesn’t actually mean it. Not this time.

“You dick.” You reprimand, flicking his hairline lightly. “You absolute dick.”

His eyes just seem to grow a little brighter at that, just for a second, and then he’s shutting them again. There’s still a smirk on his face though- one you’d swear you’d slap off if he wasn’t actually being somewhat pleasant right now. For once in his life, it seemed. 

“Alright,” You announce, rounding the couch quickly. “Your knuckles look just as bad so give ‘em.”

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.”

“I don’t need anymore of your pity help, leech.”

“It’s not pity. Not even a little bit.” You sigh. “Look, I know you’re not gonna understand this, but I seriously cannot chill the hell out without at least trying to take care of people. My quirk makes my fingers literally itch when I see injuries. They itch and they don’t stop itching until I do something about it. Helping people, healing people, is hard-wired into me- it’s as much something I do for me as it is something I do for others.” 

Bakugou’s eyes widen at that. He sits a little straighter, fists clenching as he presses them into the cushions. A few beats pass and then he’s grumbling, throwing himself back as he thrusts both of his injured knuckles forward.

“God, you’re so fucking irritating.” He gripes. “If you’re gonna be such a weirdo about it, then get the hell to it already.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead kneeling next to your coffee table and settling on the ground. You take his hands in yours, bending all his fingers to make sure nothing is broken. When nothing is, you look up at Bakugou, planning to tell him the good news, but he’s already looking at you. Your eyes meet, and he blinks, once, twice, before averting his eyes quickly. You think that maybe he blushes too, but he turns his head so sharply you’re almost convinced you imagined it.

You just try to shrug it off, focusing your attention back on his hands. You notice how warm they are again, nearly feverish and strangely unblemished. When you start rubbing bruise cream over knuckles, kneading the joints between your fingers, Bakugou sighs slumps back into the couch. He closes his eyes once more.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No. Can’t. Fuckin’ told ya already.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me why.” You set his hands back on the couch, moving instead to unravel a bandage. “Not that I won’t help you, but have you tried any other remedies? Melatonin? Or lavender? Maybe chamomile? Any of those?”

“Mhm. Falling asleep isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?” 

 He opens his eyes, squinting at you from above. “None of your fuckin’ business.” 

“Bakugou, I’m trying to help here.”

“I don’t want-”

“Yeah. I know. You don’t want it. Or you don’t want to rely on it. I get it. But you wouldn’t have even came here if you didn’t absolutely need it, right?” You insist, grabbing his hands into yours again. “God, you know, I’ve had toddlers who were more cooperative than you. Why’re you so difficult?”

“I’m not fuckin’ difficult.”

“No. You’re difficult. Very difficult.” 

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying. Do me a favor and go back to being nice.” 

“Nope. Sorry. Pretty sure you didn’t like me then either.” You start wrapping the bandage around his knuckles, taking extra care to apply the right pressure. “And I was only nice to you because I was working, you know. I’m only actually nice to the people who deserve it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at that.

You finish wrapping the bandage, securing it into place with a bit of medical adhesive. All things considered, Bakugou looks better than before. Or at least, better than the death incarnate he’d been portraying himself as.

“All done.” You smile, turning away to start packing up your supplies.

“Finally. Took ya fuckin’ long enough.” 

“God, you are literally devoid of manners, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah. ‘s part of not bein’ an absolute bitch.”

You gawk, spinning around to face him. Bakugou’s relaxed into your couch, arms laid across the back leisurely as he smiles. There’s that same softness to his eyes from before, the crinkling just at the edges.

“Wow.” You scoff, smiling sarcastically. “You really think you’re so funny don’t you?” 

“I do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yeah. Because you’re fuckin’ brainless.”

“Brainless? Me? Swear to god, you only know, like, three words and all of them are probably swears!” 

Bakugou just shrugs, looking abnormally pleased. Content even. You figure that’s probably right for someone like him- only happy when everyone around him is devolving into chaos.

“Actually, you know what, I think I’m done yelling for the night.” You say, shucking your gloves off. You wiggle your fingers at him, a smirk plastered across your face. “I think it’s time you’re euthanized, don’t you?”

Bakugou just blinks, minutely shrinking away from you.

“Because you said you wanted me to put you to sleep, right? To put you down. Like a dog.” You continue, nearing him, coming close even as his lip curls up. Bakugou is glaring fully now, fists clenched, and you stop just a few inches out of his reach. “Or, you know, in ruder terms- not a dog, but a bitch.”

Bakugou snarls, lunging at you as you duck away. He’s fast but you’re faster, vaulting behind your couch to create some distance. There’s fire in his eyes, blazing and hot in his irises, but it isn’t scary. If you look close enough, you’re almost sure it’s just warmth. That same rare amusement from earlier.

“You leech. Swear to fuck I’ll make you regret that. Say your goddamn prayers!” 

“Touch me and you’ll fall asleep!” You tease. “Or I’ll use my quirk and see into your brain. So I guess it’s more of a ‘pick your poison’ for you, really.” 

“It’ll be the same for you.” Bakugou growls, hands grasping the back of the couch as he leans in towards you. “Open casket or closed, it’s still gonna be your fuckin’ funeral.” 

“Really?”

“Really. Leech.”

“No thanks.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no thanks’,” Bakugou mimics your voice, his features twisting. “I’m killing you. You’re dead. You don’t get a choice.” 

“No, I really think I do.”

“And just what the fuck makes you so goddamn confident?”

“This. You not attacking me.” You smile easily, voice daring as you stare right back at him. “If you really wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Isn’t that right, Dynamite?” 

The name sends Bakugou recoiling, shrinking backwards and scoffing in outright shock. You watch him stumble, legs hitting your coffee table and nearly causing him to fold. He recovers quickly though, albeit with his cheeks flushing wildly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Nah. Thanks for the offer though.” You smile brightly, before throwing your arms above your head and yawning widely. “As fun as that was, I’m pretty tired. You ready to fall asleep, yet?”

“Jesus fuck, yes. That’s the entire goddamn reason I’m even here. Idiot.”

“No name calling. You agreed.”

“I didn’t agree to shit.”

“You did.” You affirm. “Now, c’mon, like last time, hold your hand out.” 

With surprisingly little dramatics or resistance, Bakugou listens. He thrusts one of his bandaged hands forward as he sits on the couch again. When you touch his fingers, you feel that faint warmth again. Like fire and embers coursing through your bloodstream. It’s uncomfortable, a relentless sensation that has you cringing. You briefly wonder what it would be like to always live with it. Like Bakugou seems to. 

His eyes flutter shut just like last time, and you can see the way he staggers. It’s like the fight leaves him entirely, and then he’s falling boneless into the couch. You can hardly place a pillow onto the cushions before he’s driving his head into it.

“Jesus,” You mutter in disbelief. “How long has it been since you slept? You look dead.” 

“Weeks.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Since the last time?” 

“Mhm.”

If his words alone didn’t confirm the severity of his sleeplessness for you, his response time did. Bakugou answered quickly, without fight, like he’d been wanting to spill for the entire night. And, you suppose, maybe he did; or was trying to. In hindsight, you begin to realize a lot of his screaming could just as easily have read as cries for help- not that you’d ever tell him that. You’d probably have to prepare a will if you ever tried telling him that.

“You want a blanket?” You ask a little unsurely, not exactly confident in your approach to this entirely different Bakugou. “All you’re getting is the couch, but I could probably scrounge up a few blankets.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond. All you hear in response are tiny little snores and slow breathing. 

You find it reminds you of the last time- the way you’re reaching into a cupboard and grabbing out a blanket for him. Except this time, it’s a little bit different. Somehow you’re settling the blanket over him with a little bit of genuine kindness instead of begrudging sympathy.

After all, you can’t help but feel a little bit of pity- no one would ever fall asleep that fast unless they really needed it. Especially not in a stranger’s house. 

--/--

enjoy my lovelies :))

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[agentark88]

Think: Alternate Future: Shinso: Next Gen

My Hero Academia Fan Fiction by Agent ARK 88

“Think: Alternate Future” side stories do not dictate the outcome of Think. Things that happen in these side stories do not affect the current Think story/chapters. Think of these short stories as a fun collection of possible outcomes that may or may not happen in an alternate universe, while still pertaining to characters in the main fan fiction, Think.

Warnings: This work contains mild language, blood, and violence.

Kyoko Shinso groaned as a breeze sent her umbrella lopsided again. The sun touched her pale skin, and she shifted over the towel to keep from burning. This trip to the beach was supposed to help with quirk training, but it clearly was geared more toward a vacation. Kyoko buried her face deeper into her book, hoping that no more sand would get into her eyes, despite wearing sunglasses.

The other U.A. classmates were loud, especially Raidon Kaminari. But, Kyoko was the most used to him, considering they’d spent a great amount of time hanging out on playdates. Raidon and a few other classmates were playing volleyball, using their quirks to help with coordination. Purple electricity flashed near the court every once in a while, making Kyoko wince. It was difficult to concentrate when the human strobe light was only a few feet from her spot in the sand.

Suddenly, the volleyball landed directly next to Kyoko, showering her with unprompted sand. She hissed in anger. Raidon jogged over, giving her a cocky grin. He ran a hand through his purple hair, complete with a yellow lightning bolt, before he set his hands on his hips.

“Are you going to lie over here and sulk all day?” Raidon asked. He placed a single large hand down onto the volleyball and lifted it effortlessly. His bright yellow eyes scanned over Kyoko.

Kyoko didn’t answer him, trying to find the place she was in her book. Raidon sighed, tossing the ball back to the other players on the court.

“Play the next set without me!” he shouted over, bending down to Kyoko.

“If I wanted your company, I would have asked for it,” Kyoko stated dryly, turning another page in her book.

“You wouldn’t ask for my company if I was the last person on earth,” Raidon said, chuckling.

“Then, why have you decided to intrude in my personal space?”

“Because I understand why you’re over here, and I think it’s bullshit that they didn’t at least try to take us somewhere that would assist in developing all of our quirks,” Raidon said.

Kyoko’s hand paused with a page between her fingers. She wanted to tell him those were her thoughts exactly. She was told specifically not to use her quirk on her classmates while out here, but a quirk like thought control needed to be used on people. Normally, during regular training it was allowed. Due to the fact that their teacher wouldn’t be monitoring everyone closely that day, quirks were limited to basic recreational activities and not each other. They could have at least provided her with an indoor gym, so she could work on herself physically. The sun made Kyoko’s skin itch, and she preferred not to be sticky with sunscreen the whole time she was there. She enjoyed swimming, but feared that because of endurance training in the waves, she would get distracted and use her quirk unintentionally.

“Monoma can’t use his quirk like me, and he’s participating in activities. I don’t see why U.A. must accommodate me,” Kyoko argued.

“Habiki? He just wants to prove he can kick our asses at volleyball without his quirk, hence the maniacal laughter. Kid has been brutal,” Raidon said.

Kyoko pressed her lips into a firm line, scanning over the next sentence without being able to actually read it while Kaminari stood over her. “I’m fine, Raidon. You don’t have to check on me.”

“That’s what friends are for. Besides, I’ve used my quirk so much that I can feel my brain buzzing.” Raidon tilted Kyoko’s umbrella so the sun was no longer infiltrating her space. “If I short-circuit, there’s no telling what prank Habiki would play on me.” Raidon sat right on the edge of Kyoko’s blanket, digging his toes into the sand. “Not going to go swimming?” Raidon tilted his head back, and his broad shoulders shifted with the small gesture, muscles rippling under sweaty skin.

Kyoko shrugged, shutting her book. “My quirk could go off unintentionally. You know how relaxed I can be in the water.”

“You could play volleyball,” Raidon offered.

Kyoko turned her head to observe the teams that had been selected for the game. Evidently, those with the preferred quirks for that kind of game had decided to play, excluding Monoma of course. Ken Miyabe, quirk: giant strength, Habiki Monoma, quirk: physical copy, and Amaterasu, quirk: incinerator, were all on the opposing team to Raidon. While, Raidon’s team consisted of Kagome Imai, quirk: teleportation. Now that Raidon had sat out, Miyabe had just switched sides. It figured that most of the offensive fighters were playing volleyball. To be fair, most of the class were offensive fighters in their own way. Even Kyoko had to learn to be more aggressive on the field because there were so many quirks in her class that assisted with physical attacks.

“I’ll pass,” Kyoko said.

“We could go for a swim,” Raidon offered again.

“I told you that I don’t want to accidently use my quirk on anyone.”

“We could go a ways down the beach so no one can hear your voice and be affected. You know if you do it to me by accident, I won’t tell anyone.” Raidon winked at Kyoko, smiling brightly.

“What if you use your quirk on me? I’d be fried.”

“It’s salt water. Unless I go and perform an ultimate move in the open sea, equivalent to a lightning bolt, you should be safe. I’m not planning on controlling the weather while we’re swimming. The water around you should be more electrically conducive than you are.”

Kyoko scowled. “Don’t pretend like you’re not in the lowest grade percentile of our class. I’ll stop helping you study.”

Raidon cracked a smile. “Trust me, I’m not. My knowledge is only specialized in electricity and lightning. Beyond that, your old pal Raidon here has a children’s song looping through his head.”

Kyoko leaned up on her elbows, looking out toward the ocean. Ren Tokoyami was busy developing her dark water quirk. Blackened bits of sea moved deliberately at her fingertips. Her red eyes were trained on the task at hand, and her dark green hair blew in the breeze. Ena Iida wasn’t that far away from her. She was in the middle of re-tying up her dark blue hair to ensure it wouldn’t get in the way of her quirk training. She’d built a mechanical machine using her mechanic quirk that was utilizing the waves to create a power source for a sand digger. The machine took in the waves and spat out white steam. At the same time, Katashi Tetsutetsu, quirk: half-copper and half-steel, had formed his right half into a shovel to dig sand too, most likely trying to surpass the machinery beside him. The last person taking part in the nearby sea activities, that Kyoko could see, was Nanako Midoriya. She appeared to be swimming in a large oval shape. Midoriya concentrated on using controlled float to remove seaweed from the ocean and toss them away, so she could swim in peace.

Kyoko had a bitter taste in her mouth, seeing them all use their quirks so easily and without limitation. It wasn’t as if it were her classmates’ fault that she couldn’t use her quirk, but it felt as if she were being punished.

“Come on. Don’t make that face. We can make the best of a sucky situation.” Raidon stood up, dusting sand off his bright yellow beach shorts. He held out his hand. “You love swimming. You can’t deny that.”

Kyoko removed her sunglasses, rolling her eyes. She grabbed his hand, brushing against his metallic rings, which assisted him in focusing his quirk toward his hands. Raidon pulled her up in an instant. To Kyoko’s surprise, Raidon didn’t let go of her hand as he led them toward the other end of the beach. This far from the others, there was a large spread of tropical vegetation. The same plants were reflected on the opposite side of the short stretch of private beach. At least there weren’t even locals to worry about.

Raidon led Kyoko to the edge of the waves. Just as the water lapped against her foot, Raidon leaned in next to her ear. “I like your bathing suit. It’s cute,” he whispered.

Kyoko could barely hear him over the waves, but it still made her blush. It was a one piece, purple suit, modest. There were some cutesy frills in the front that helped fill out Kyoko’s slender frame.

Raidon’s hand left Kyoko’s. He waded into the water, up to his waist, before he turned back to motion Kyoko to follow. Kyoko hesitated for only a moment. She looked longingly at the water. When was the last time she swam for fun? It had to have been when she was a child.

Kyoko dove into the water, humming in satisfaction as the refreshing liquid flowed over her. She poked her head out from the water, running her fingers through her brown and purple hair. She relaxed just enough to let the waves carry her, but she kept her attention on her quirk, ensuring she wouldn’t speak to Kaminari and force him under her control. Floating over the water like this always felt similar to her quirk activating. She could feel weightless, unrestricted, but at the same time the water was tangible, grounding. A mind spoke similarly to the way that waves flowed in and out. She should take more time to go the beach with her mom and dad. She wouldn’t have to feel nervous about her quirk that way.

Raidon swam, or rather splashed, over to Kyoko, sending flecks of sea water onto her face. When Kyoko opened her eyes, squinting up at him in irritation, Raidon was staring at her thoughtfully.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Kyoko said, not wanting to admit that her friend was right.

Raidon grinned brightly. “Good.” His attention shifted back to where the rest of the class had been, and his smile faded.

“What?” Kyoko asked.

“Looks like our classmates wanted to see what’s so special about this spot.” Raidon shrugged. You could already see the apology in his eyes without reading his thoughts.

“What are you two weirdos doing out here all alone? Better be keeping it appropriate!” Monoma called out.

“They’re two feet apart!” Imai called back, appearing a few inches away from Kyoko in the water.

Kyoko slipped out of the proper position to float, sputtering from surprise after Imai teleported next to her. Raidon gripped Kyoko by the arm, before she could submerge into the sea any farther, holding her above the waves until she got her bearings again.

“What happened to the volleyball game?” Raidon asked her pointedly.

Imai pulled back her oil-like black hair into a bun. “It was no fun once you left. Monoma kept deliberately aiming for faces.”

Raidon’s gaze moved back to the shore. “Can Ken even swim?”

Imai looked back as well. “I’m pretty sure he can’t. I’ll go check on him. If he goes out too far, he’s too big for any of us to help him.” Imai disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke.

“Are you okay?” Raidon asked.

Kyoko submerged half of her face into the ocean, blowing irritated bubbles out.

“I know it’s not ideal, but it will be okay, won’t it? You can keep yourself from using your quirk. If you’re that worried, you can stay quiet,” Raidon said.

Kyoko glared at him. This was exactly what Kyoko didn’t want to do. She would get in trouble if something happened without permission. Her classmates still didn’t understand how unpredictable her quirk could be. They had no sense of how much concentration it took to stay out of their heads.

 “I’m going back to my towel.”

“Kyoko, it will be fine for a little while, won’t it?”

“It won’t,” she snapped back. “Why do you think I avoided getting in the water in the first place?” Kyoko glanced back at the shore. At this point, all of her classmates were wading out into the water. She sighed. “Thanks for trying.”

“Kyoko,” Raidon pleaded, but she had made up her mind.

Kyoko ignored her classmates as she passed them. Nanako Midoriya came the closest to stopping her, showing Kyoko the big ball of seaweed she’d collected.

“Do you think we could dry it out and eat it?” Nanako asked Kyoko. Her bobbed green hair had clung to her head due to the water. Her big brown eyes blinked up at her with curiosity.

“How would I know?” Kyoko asked.

Nanako pouted, glancing at the seaweed. “Isn’t your mom really good at cooking?”

“Baking,” Kyoko corrected. “And, I wouldn’t know. I have about as much talent in the kitchen as my dad does.”

“Oh,” Nanako said. She scratched her head in thought. “Maybe Amaterasu can dry it out with her incinerator quirk, and I can try it.”

“That might not be…” Kyoko trailed off. She wanted to tell Nanako that it would probably taste disgusting. There was a process to cooking, and as far as seaweed went, she’d probably want to flavor it. But, she didn’t want to rain on the girl’s parade. She looked so excited just to have come up with the idea, despite being disgusted with the seaweed in her way in the first place.

Nanako skipped away, the ball of putrid seaweed floating close behind her. Kyoko shrugged, making her way back to her umbrella. Kyoko was irritated to find that her towel was no longer where she’d left it. Off in the distance, she caught sight of the familiar classic Eraserhead costume. Kyoko rarely got merchandise of her favorite heroes, but her father bought it for her for her birthday when she noticed it in a local shop. Her towel had somehow blown all the way across the beach and had latched onto a jungle tree.

Kyoko sighed, plodding through the sand toward the towel. She was obviously soaked and all she wanted to do was lie back down. Unluckily, the towel unhooked itself from the tree and went deeper into the brush. Kyoko picked up her pace, so she could catch up with it before it went into the forest too deeply and became irretrievable.

Once Kyoko started moving through the trees, she wished she’d had enough forward thinking to have grabbed her sandals. She’d already stepped on more than one rock.

“Kyoko! Wait up!” Raidon called after her. “Why are you going into the forest?”

“My towel apparently has a mind of its own!” Kyoko called back flatly. She followed the dark fabric with her eyes, but just as she got closer the towel was pulled away by what seemed to be the wind.

Raidon’s athleticism proved to be greater than Kyoko thought it was because even though she was practically sprinting, he’d caught up.

“Man, beach wind is crazy!” Raidon said, chuckling as he too took a swipe at the towel only for it to get pulled away.

Kyoko suddenly froze, furrowing her eyebrows. She could no longer feel the wind brushing against her back now that they were so far into the trees. The towel wasn’t being blown by natural forces.

“Wait, this doesn’t feel right,” Kyoko said.

Raidon paused, his hand outstretched toward the elusive towel. “What do you mean? We’ve almost caught it.”

“There’s no wind,” Kyoko said.

“Clever girl.”

Kyoko’s eyes widened. The towel twisted into the air to expose a blue enflamed feather attached to it, which appeared to be barely brighter than a lighter. Just as Kyoko had comprehended what it was, the feather burned brighter, engulfing the towel in flames. Raidon stumbled back from the fire, nearly getting singed.

A young woman with long white hair and cut-across bangs stepped out of the shadows. The blue flames reflected in her golden eyes. Her dangerous smile was more than enough to strike fear in Kyoko’s chest. But, the bright blue flaming wings extended from her back, sent Kyoko stumbling back. Whoever this was, they weren’t here to enjoy the beach.

Kyoko opened her mouth to activate her quirk, but as soon as her lips parted, a gag was tied around her head. Kyoko went to rip the fabric away, only for her hands to be bound in front of her as well and tied around her waist by some kind of quirk she assumed. Kyoko kept a head count of the attackers, two so far. The most reasonable explanation was that they were villains. Why else would they have attacked so quickly? They must have known Kyoko’s quirk ahead of time too. They wouldn’t have silenced her so quickly otherwise. Kyoko had to get to the rest of the class, warn them that there were attackers. At this distance, with so many thoughts around, it would be difficult to reach them telepathically, as it wasn’t as developed as her thought control quirk.

Purple electricity buzzed off of Raidon’s skin. He turned back toward Kyoko, and his expression changed, worry and anger clouded his yellow eyes when he saw what had happened.

“Let her go!” Raidon shouted.

“Easy there, hero boy,” the woman in front of him warned. “I wouldn’t want to accidently burn either of you with my feathers.” She extended her deep blue wings that burned brightly with cerulean fire.

Kyoko had to make a break for it. They’d just tied her wrists and mouth. Their attention had to be on Raidon. She could still run. If any classmates saw her, they could get help. Kyoko shifted to run, but the wind was immediately knocked out of her as someone landed directly on her back. They pressed Kyoko’s face into the forest floor, making it difficult to breathe. Cold metal clasped around Kyoko’s neck immediately irritating her skin. A low hum sounded, before Kyoko’s mind went quiet. Her quirk was no longer active.

“Naughty little hero,” a voice cooed overhead. “We won’t have to hurt you if you’re compliant.”

Kyoko struggled to gain some leverage, barely able to crane her neck back toward Raidon. Pure rage infiltrated his expression. Raidon opened his mouth, purple static raising his hair on end.

“Unhand—” Raidon was grabbed from behind, and his mouth was covered by the winged villain, cutting him off.

“Do you mind tying this one up, Sako?” the winged woman hissed. She was clearly being shocked at least a little bit by Raidon’s static output because she kept making a face and jostling him forward. Four flaming feathers flew from her back, coming dangerously close to Kyoko on the ground. “Try anything serious, kid, and I’ll be sure to burn your friend over there for good measure.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Hibari. I wasn’t expecting more than one brat to show up. My magic rope quirk can only focus on so many materials before it becomes ineffective. Is he that hard to hold on to?” This was yet another female voice. The new villain hovered over Kyoko, focusing her quirk energy on her binds and forcing her still. She swiped some loose strands of brown curly hair out of her face to reveal her hazel eyes. “What are we going to do? There are two of them, and we only needed her. We don’t have another inhibitor for whatever weird quirk that one has,” Sako added.

“Isn’t this exactly how your old man messed up, Shigaraki?” Hibari asked.

Raidon’s eyes widened. He must have recognized the name, just like Kyoko did. They had been a part of The League of Villains back in the day. The weight on Kyoko left, leaving the burning feathers as a reminder not for her to move.

“Shut it, Hibari! I told you to never call me that!” Shigaraki itched at her neck. To Kyoko’s horror, she had a porcelain doll mask covering her face. “We’ll take them both. It will give us more time to prepare if their kidnapping wasn’t discovered immediately.”

Hibari smirked at her. “Oh, yeah, Shinju? That’s really what you want to do, fearless leader? Here lies The Antihero Syndicate bound to repeat history for eternity. Actually, it has quite the nice ring to it. What could we possibly learn from our dear old dad’s anyway?”

“You’re so damn dramatic. Which father does that character trait come from again?” Shinju shot back.

Hibari’s smirk faded. “I don’t think we want to get into a villain measuring contest right now.”

Raidon’s eyes locked onto yours. His hands were on Hibari’s arm, which meant his electric conductive rings were touching her as well. He was afraid. Kyoko could see it in his expression. He knew if he used his quirk on full blast it would directly hurt her. Not only that, she was being threatened to be burned.

Kyoko nodded toward him frantically. She would have told him telepathically to do it, had her quirk not been subdued. No matter what output he made, she wasn’t directly next to him. It would distract Hibari long enough for Kyoko to get up. She’d dealt with his electricity before. She could fight through the pain.

Static electricity pulsed through the air. Raidon shut his eyes in concentration. Purple volts of energy sputtered to life. At first it didn’t seem like much, but then a bolt of purple lightning was pulled from the sky, hitting Hibari square on the back, at the base of her wings. Kyoko rolled toward the forest exit, but the shockwave hit her next, stunning her and forcing a painful muffled cry from her throat.

Hibari let out a horrid laugh, before she gripped Raidon by the back of the head and slammed his face into the dirt. “You little brat. I told you not to try something.” Her golden eyes went aflame with hatred. “I get heat damage in that exact spot with my quirk. The only thing you did was piss me off.” Her attention floated over to Kyoko. The electricity kept her stunned to the spot. “And, as I promised, I get to burn her.”

Kyoko whimpered as the feathers made contact with her exposed skin. Tears welled in her eyes. Raidon struggled furiously against the hand to his head. He took in a mouthful of dirt, as he begged for her to stop.

“Please. Don’t hurt her! Stop!” his voice came out garbled, barely audible.

“Dammit, Hibari! He could have alerted his classmates with that blast. Kando, teleportal us out of here, now!” Shinju shouted.

“I thought you’d never ask.” A boy with black spiky hair spread his palms over the forest floor. Dark green, mist-like portals expanded underneath the group.

Everyone fell through the floor. Kyoko floated just a few inches from the floor. The rope around her kept her afloat because she felt the harsh tug against her skin. Raidon had not been so lucky as Hibari took the opportunity to use him as a cushion for landing.

“Dammit!” Shinju shouted in frustration. She gripped a chair with her bare hands, and its very material altered into a glossy white. Shinju flung it at a nearby wall, and it shattered. “Do any of you understand how important that this is to the plan?”

“We all know how important this is. It’s not Hibari’s fault that the extra kid showed up,” Sako argued.

“Don’t bother defending me, Sako. Shinju’s just throwing a temper tantrum because things didn’t go exactly as she wanted them to.” Hibari picked Raidon up by the back of the shirt.

Small zaps of purple static electricity prickled over his skin, but he didn’t appear conscious. He must have hit his head too hard on the way down. Hibari tossed Raidon toward Kyoko, and his muscular body made a sickening noise hitting the ground.

“Tie them together. The kid won’t be able to use his quirk while attached to her. You can remove her gag too. Her quirk is useless with that thing around her neck.” Hibari walked up to Kyoko, tilting her head up toward her. While being suspended in the air, it was nearly impossible for Kyoko to fight her. “Scream all you want. No one’s going to hear you down here.” Hibari pulled her hand away, shoving it into her black-pant pocket. She tossed Shinju a smirk. “It’s your turn, Shinju. Unless, you want me to do all of the work.”

Shinju itched at her neck, her fingers digging into her tanned skin below her powder-white mask. Hibari marched up the stairs, and the two of them didn’t exchange anymore words.

Kyoko was lowered to the ground. The rope-gag tied around her mouth was removed. Kando assisted Raidon into a chair. He’d slumped forward. Kyoko was lifted by Sako and placed behind him.

“Shinju’s not in the best mood. I suggest you don’t struggle when I switch your bindings,” Sako whispered to Kyoko.

Kyoko’s wrists were freed and newly bound by hand. Just as advised, Raidon and Kyoko were now tied to each other, so when he woke up, he wouldn’t be able to use his quirk to free them.

“Why are you doing this?” Kyoko asked.

Shinju tilted her head to the side. “You. All of you. You heroes are why.” Shinju scratched at her flaky skin. “Heroes are formed, molded in these schools as if they are the real saviors of the world, while those of us that are born with curses are looked upon as scum. It continues to happen again and again. The cycle finally needs to be broken, and you’re going to help us break it, in this body or in another.” She turned to her colleagues. “They can’t go anywhere. We’ll watch the door from upstairs, until we can transport Shinso to the medical facility undetected.”

The three villains left, more than positive Kyoko and Raidon wouldn’t be able to escape. They weren’t wrong. What Kyoko could do was inhibited, while Raidon was out cold. When he awoke, he wouldn’t be able to use his quirk without doing serious harm to Kyoko.

 “What would Mom do?” Kyoko murmured to herself. Tears formed in her eyes again. Both her mother and father had warned her of the dangers of becoming a hero. As a family, they’ve already had a number of close calls with kidnappings. Kyoko had seen the footage of her mother’s kidnapping too. If it hadn’t been for her father, Hitoshi Shinso, catching her, Kyoko’s mother would have never survived the ordeal.

Mom would do what she had to to escape, so they couldn’t use her as a hostage, Kyoko thought. But, what can I do?

There was nothing but silence filling the space, silence in Kyoko’s mind. It was eerie not hearing the thoughts of others or constantly holding back the tug of her quirk. Not to mention, she was freezing. The villains hadn’t bothered to give them a blanket or anything to wear. They were still only in their bathing suits after all. A few minutes went by, an hour, maybe more. The silence became overwhelming, and then a spark of sound.

“Damn, my head is killing me.” Raidon shifted, groaning.

“Raidon? Are you awake?” Kyoko asked.

“W-where are we? Kyoko, what happened?” Raidon shook his head. “Wait! There were villains. They totally attacked us and then…” Raidon trailed off. “You got hurt! Are you okay? Did she burn you badly? D-did I zap you too bad? I was so worried that I seriously injured you. I would never forgive myself if—”

“Raidon, calm down. I’m okay. We need to think about how to get out of here.”

“Right! Right,” Raidon said. “Can you like reach out telepathically?”

Kyoko bowed her head. “My quirk isn’t working. It has something to do with this collar on me. Aside from that, we’re in this basement. Even if my quirk was working, I might not be able to reach anyone.”

“Oh, that’s okay. We can figure out another way to escape.” Raidon chuckled. His positivity was infectious at times, but there was a heavy uneasiness settled on Kyoko’s shoulders. “Ah, my head sure hurts. This pounding is not helping the thinking process at all. I kind of wish I was in short-circuit mode, I might have a better chance. Together, we can come up with something. Don’t stress.”

“I never said that I was stressed,” Kyoko responded despondently. She clenched her fist at her side. Tears once again threatened to fall. “I’m sorry.”

The ropes tightened a bit. “Sorry? What would you ever have to be sorry about?”

“I feel like this is my fault.”

“None of that now, Kyoko. You can’t blame yourself for what psycho villains decide to do. It’s what you do about it that you’re responsible for. Cheer up! This could be way worse, you know?”

“Worse than being kidnapped?”

Raidon let out a sigh. “I’m not going to list out the worse parts! We’ll just get discouraged. Now, let’s put our thinking caps on.”

“I don’t have my cellphone on me,” Kyoko stated bluntly. “I left it over by my umbrella.”

“Phone! That’s it! It should be in my pocket, and—” Raidon froze. Kyoko could hear glass, plastic, and metal clanging together as he shifted around. “Oh, man. I can hear the pieces jingling together in my pocket. I’m pretty sure it was destroyed. It also probably took a punch from my lightning bolt move.”

“You took a pretty hard fall. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“I look so lame. Shit, don’t give up on me yet, Kyoko. I can get us out of here.”

“It’s not all up to you.” If anything, Kyoko should have been prepared for this. Her quirk, like her father’s and mother’s, was rare. People loved the idea of controlling other people. It didn’t matter who they had to use to do it either. Kyoko’s mother had been kidnapped with Katsuki Bakugo back in the day. The two of them held out long enough for the Pro Heroes to arrive, but even they didn’t escape on their own. Their classmates had also had a hand in their escape too.

“What did I tell you about stress, Kyoko? I can feel you all tensed up. We’re going to be great heroes, remember? Something as small as this won’t stop us.”

“Right,” Kyoko said in a small voice.

“Besides, your dad would kill me if I let anything happen to you.” Raidon gulped. “Your mom would probably help him hide the body too.” Raidon trembled a bit. “My mom would keep watch! No way am I going to let those villains do anything more to either of us.”

“Auntie Kyoka would not.” Kyoko smiled, a tear running down her face. She was so scared, but he was still making her grin like he always did. “No promises that my dad wouldn’t do something though.” Kyoko chuckled.

“That’s why I’ve got to get us out of here. I don’t want to be hoisted up in the middle of the city by Mindjack’s capture weapon with a kick me sign included. No way!”

“My dad wouldn’t do something so juvenile.” Kyoko shifted, wincing when the collar around her neck pinched her. “If only we could get this thing off of me. I could just convince those villains to let us go.”

Raidon was quiet for a moment, and he sighed. “They tied me to you so I couldn’t use my quirk, didn’t they?”

Kyoko shrugged. “It was the obvious solution for them.”

“Do you think our classmates know we’re gone yet? Mr. Ishioka is probably furious. If our parents have been notified, my dad’s already sobbing like a baby, guaranteed. He should put more faith in us.”

“My dad’s probably rampaging through the city in worry, while my mom’s trying to get him to calm down,” Kyoko said. She wished she could wipe her face. Her tears had started to itch.

“No doubt. Although, your mom can be scary when she wants to be.”

“Yeah. She’d know exactly what to do,” Kyoko said, sniffling.

“Woah, are you…?” Raidon didn’t finish the question. The ropes tightened once again. “I-I think I can cut these ropes. I can use my lightning bolt ring. It might take some time, but we’ve got plenty of that, don’t we?”

“What then?” Kyoko asked, biting into her lip.

“We get out of here, so our parents don’t have to worry so much.” It was evident he was gaining some traction based on the tension of the rope. “Can you imagine how loud Monoma is being without us around? You always manage to give him the right comebacks to quiet him down. Honestly, I think he really respects you.”

“I’m not sure Monoma holds anyone higher than himself,” Kyoko admitted.

“No, he definitely reacts differently around you. We all do. We all know how strong you are." Raidon gave the rope another pull. “Sometimes I don’t even know why you talk to me. You’re on another level to any of us.”

“People don’t think I’m strong. They’re afraid of me. They think I’m weird. And, it would be rude not to respond to you when you go out of your way to talk to me. If anything, you’re on a whole other planet than I am. Everyone in our class loves you. I’ve even seen upperclassmen go out of their way to say hi to you.”

Raidon paused. “That’s not true. I…” Raidon continued sawing at the ropes. “I think that you’re—” The rope snapped, loosening around their waists. “It worked!”

Kyoko’s eyes widened. He actually did it.

“Okay. Now, we just need to get our legs free. Do you think you can untie yours? If you can’t, give me a moment. I’ll be over to help in no time.”

Kyoko leaned down, working quickly to untie the ropes. She’d just unknotted her side, when Raidon appeared in front of her. He gave her a thumbs up.

“Step one, complete,” Raidon said, beaming. He leaned forward, tilting Kyoko’s face up. “You…” Raidon rubbed his thumb over Kyoko’s cheek. “You were crying.”

Kyoko gripped his hand, forcing him gently away. “My hair’s just wet.” Why was she lying? Why did she not want him to see that she was sad? It was natural to be scared in this situation.

“Sure,” Raidon said, avoiding questioning her. He tilted his head, smiling. He reached his hand out for Kyoko to grab. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”

After discussing the possible options for escape, Raidon and Kyoko had decided to risk it all on a large attack and hope that there would be an exit on the next floor. Raidon had already examined the inhibitor collar. He didn’t want to shock it in hopes it would short-circuit because it would have just zapped her directly. There weren’t many objects around to use as weapons, but there was a lot of space in the room. Raidon could use his quirk to its full capacity at the top the stairs. Kyoko would rush up and guide him out. It was a risk, but it would be their best chance of escape.

The two of them now stood at the top of the stairs, listening in on the other side. Kyoko had already done her best to tie a knot between the handle and a metal pipe. It would give the two of them even more time should the villains decide to come back down. She was thankful her father had taught her so many knots. This one would allow her to easily undo it, but it was practically undoable to those who did not have access to the rope itself. It was clear that the group of villains were all standing on the other side of the door. A news broadcast sounded like it was playing in the background.

“The heroes are crawling all over the place. Did we have to kidnap the kid with a parent that’s one of the top search and rescue heroes in Japan?” Hibari’s rough voice reverberated across the room.

“She’s not the only one we have to worry about. What are the chances that both of these brats collectively have four Pro Hero parents that are high on the hero charts? Mindjack, Chargebolt, Earphone Jack, and Think. I don’t see how that’s fair,” Sako said. She sounded much closer to the door.

“We’ll have to move Kyoko Shinso soon, or they’ll find us. They already suspect that The Antihero Syndicate has something to do with the kidnapping. It’s only a matter of time,” Shinju said.

“Are you going to shatter another chair, Shinju?” Hibari asked.

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t decide to shatter you,” she replied.

“Don’t we have more pressing matters to deal with than arguing? Why can’t we move now?” Kando asked.

“It’s too risky. We need to move when we’re sure that we aren’t seen. It’s over if we’re noticed. Besides, the facility location has yet to be fully revealed to me. I know a general area, but that’s it.”

“Told you that you should have let me scope out the Nomu facility ahead of time. I could have teleportaled us there instantly,” Kando mumbled.

“I told you that I haven’t even been notified of its location. We wait to move, and that’s final,” Shinju said. “If you want to do something useful, go check on the kids.”

Raidon glanced at Kyoko, and she nodded back. She rushed down the stairs to the farthest point in the room. Raidon had deliberately told her to cover her eyes just in case, but it was difficult for her to turn away. Once he let loose, he’d be totally vulnerable. It would be all up to Kyoko to lead them out, and, with any luck, they’d do it while the villains were incapacitated.

“Empurpled Indiscriminate Shock Two Million Volts!” Raidon shouted.

Kyoko covered her head, praying that she was far enough away to ensure she wasn’t struck. The purple light flashed across the dull gray walls, and the electricity buzzed loudly. As soon as the light had dimmed and the noise quieted, Kyoko sprinted for the stairs. Her bare feet felt numb against the concrete floor. Kyoko turned her gaze upward, and Raidon sputtered out small electrical sparks as he gave a thumbs up to the hand railing. Kyoko took the stairs two at a time, grabbing Raidon by the wrist, despite the miniscule shocks that prickled over her skin. She reached for the rope, but froze when she noticed the door changing color.

Raidon didn’t hit all of the villains. Shinju was still standing. Kyoko trembled in fear. Raidon made a joyful gurgling sound. She couldn’t freeze, not now, not when her friend depended on her. The door cracked, pieces of porcelain breaking off and crumbling. Shinju’s doll mask appeared in the empty space. Fear struck Kyoko hard, but she managed to stand firm. She had to for Raidon.

“Give up, and I won’t kill you,” Shinju said.

Kyoko tightened her hold on Raidon’s wrist. They’d make it out together. She’d make sure that they made it out together. Kyoko struck the crumbling door. Shinju jumped back so shards would not hit her. When they climbed through the opening, Kyoko pushed Raidon to the right. He stumbled in the direction as oblivious as ever in his short-circuited state.

“You little brats!” Hibari shouted. She staggered to her feet, purple electricity pulsing over her and smoke swirling off of her skin. She leaned against a bar stool, gaining her balance.

Thankfully, Sako and Kando had been incapacitated, but Kyoko would have a hard time fighting two villains without her quirk or support equipment. She didn’t have a choice. Raidon had put his faith in her to get them out. She wouldn’t betray his trust.

“Truly a shame you decided to make this difficult. I can still bring you to the doctor in pieces. It may be more work for him, but it’s doable.” Shinju lowered her stance. Her hands spread, ready to attack. “Your quirk is what we’re truly after. Not you.”

Kyoko pressed her lips together in a firm line. They appeared to be standing in a dive bar, abandoned by the looks of it. The door was on the opposite side of the villains. Two were up and two were incapacitated. While on high alert, Kyoko noticed one of the unconscious villains begin to stir. If it ended up as one against three, Kyoko would hardly have a chance, but she couldn’t give up now. Kyoko had trained not to rely on her quirk only. It had scared her. She trained with her father and her mother for years to hone it, but it wasn’t the only thing she focused on because great power came with greater drawbacks. She’d been caught off guard before, but not again. This was why Kyoko had been so irritated to be held back from using her quirk on the beach. She had already trained deeply in hand-to-hand combat. She needed even more training to gain full control of her powers.

Shinju launched forward. She was fast, but as silent as her movements were, they were predictable in their trajectory. Kyoko dodged, sweeping Shinju’s arm away and avoiding her hand. An unearthly growl revealed that Shinju was short-tempered. She struck quickly again, but Kyoko saw it coming. Kyoko stepped around her easily.

“What are you waiting for?!” Hibari shouted. “End this.” The villain trudged forward, her wings igniting in bright blue flame. “Do I have to do everything myself?” She reached out toward Raidon.

Kyoko moved. Shinju’s eyes widened. She went to get in her way, only for Kyoko to twist her back around with a single block. Kyoko’s hand was on Hibari’s wrist in seconds. Before she had time to react, Kyoko had flipped her over onto her back using a combat throw. Hibari’s blue feathers dispersed, avoiding singing the villain upon impact. The air left her lungs long enough for Kyoko to usher Raidon back.

“You cocky little shit,” Hibari hissed out. “I’ll burn you.”

“Not before I shatter her limbs,” Shinju said.

Two against one was hardly fair. Despite how cool Kyoko presented herself, she was quaking on the inside. Fighting villains on her own was terrifying. One wrong move, and she could die. The longer she kept up the fight, the harder it would be to keep them back. Kyoko already felt her limbs tiring. They’d practically gone numb while tied and swimming earlier in the day had also taken a toll.

Shinju moved again, Hibari not far behind her. The two of them attacked at once, neither caring if they got in the way of the other. Kyoko maneuvered between them. More than a few times, the two villains nearly collided.

“Keep your hands away from me!” Hibari shrieked.

“Get your damn feathers out of the way!” Shinju shouted back.

Kyoko became cornered. She shoved Raidon out of the way before another attack. Shinju swiped her fingers through Kyoko’s hair. Kyoko gasped as she was pulled back. She heard her hair crackling as Shinju’s quirk weaved its way through her brown and purple strands.

The door was forced open from the street. Kyoko’s mother, Think, decked out in her full Pro Hero costume stood in the entryway. Without even having to lift a finger, she’d sent a mind blast at Shinju. The villain was sent flying into the nearby wall. The ends of Kyoko’s hair shattered, thankfully Shinju’s quirk hadn’t come close to her scalp.

“Don’t you ever put your hands on my daughter again!” Think shouted.

Hibari turned, scowling. Her feathers broke free from her back, dashing across the small space with fiery precision. Kyoko covered her head in protection, but her mother had already formed a mind barrier around her. It was hard to see. Kyoko could barely make out Hibari lifting her fallen comrades with some nearly doused feathers. Shinju had broken through the wall she’d been sent into. The white porcelain crashed to the floor like teardrops.

“Kando, get us out of here!” Hibari shouted.

Her wings and feathers did very little to keep Kyoko’s mother from moving forward, as she simply bounced the attacks off of an invisible barrier. Still, Think’s main focus was always on Kyoko. Even her attention had shifted toward her daughter, as she eased into the room.

The half-conscious villain pressed his hands to the ground. That green mist appeared, only for the villains to dissolve into it. Kyoko’s father, Mindjack, leapt past her mother, but he was too late to grab them. Kyoko fell to her knees as soon as they’d disappeared, bursting into tears. Her mother was already there to catch her.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re okay.” Think ran her fingers through her daughter’s hair, calmly shushing her. “You were so brave. I’m so proud of you.”

Kyoko let her dote on her. It was one of the only things, keeping her from feeling absolutely helpless. She knew she did well, but in a single rush of relief, all of Kyoko’s emotions struck her at once as broken sobs. Think pressed kisses to her daughter’s forehead, patiently waiting for her to calm down.

“Yes. They’ve fled. We’re on the eastside. I’m sending you the coordinates now,” Mindjack said into his communicator. He’d already started walking toward his daughter. “They’re both safe and appear unharmed.” He glanced at Raidon who was giving a thumbs up to a lamp. “Raidon seems to have maxed his quirk out. He’s okay.”

Kyoko gently stood up from her mother’s arms and rushed to her father, burying her face into his chest. He held her back in return.

“You must be freezing,” Mindjack said.

Think removed her cape, wrapping it around Kyoko’s shoulders. “Let me get this collar off of you. It should only take a moment. Stay still.” Kyoko’s mother focused her mind quirk, breaking the inhibitor by pulling it from either side. Kyoko didn’t even feel it touch her as it broke off.

Kyoko’s quirk came to life. The familiar buzz in her mind sent a smile to her face. She was afraid that she would never experience her powers ever again.

“Are those burns?” Mindjack asked, scanning over his daughter with a scowl.

“They are, b-but it could have been a lot worse. I’m okay, Dad,” Kyoko said, shivering. “If it weren’t for Raidon, I’m not sure I would have made it this far without more serious injury. Those villains were ruthless. He didn’t let me doubt our escape for a moment though. He knew you’d all find us.”

Mindjack turned toward Raidon. “I’m just glad you’re both safe.” Mindjack shut his eyes, sighing. “I can’t help but think that if we were here sooner, we would have caught those villains. My agency has been looking into The Antihero Syndicate for some time now, as they’ve been making moves. We never expected them to target you. Their normal motives have been lucrative in nature. It appears that they are evolving, which means I will be sure to take them down before something like this ever happens again.”

“Where is he?!” Denki Kaminari burst through the already broken in door, tears streaming down his face.

Earphone Jack followed close behind him, rolling her eyes. “They said that he was fine. Look, he’s right over there.”

“My son!” Kaminari rushed through the room, wrapping his arms around Raidon.

Raidon made an unintelligible sound, hiccupping on a goofy laugh. Yellow and purple sparks intertwined between the two of them with the swelling of emotions.

“You’re taking this rather well,” Mindjack stated plainly to Earphone Jack.

“I trust you. If you said he was okay, then he’s okay. Besides, Raidon and his father have a knack for getting into tough situations and beating them with positivity. I had no doubt Raidon was going to be fine.”

“I wish that I could be as calm as you. I broke in here out for blood,” Think said sheepishly. “My quirk is still going crazy.”

“If you weren’t showing any emotions, then I’d be more concerned, Think. You always showed your heart on your sleeve in high school.” Earphone Jack gave Kyoko’s mother a soft smile, turning toward Kyoko. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

Kyoko glanced toward Raidon, wiping tear residue from her cheeks. “It would have been a lot worse if it weren’t for Raidon talking me through it. How long is he going to be like that?”

Earphone Jack tilted her head to the side. “Depends on how many volts he used and how long ago it was, but I have no doubt he went beyond his limit for you.”

“Me? Because I’m his classmate, right?” Kyoko asked.

Earphone Jack leaned forward, giving Kyoko a knowing smile. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but he’s been crushing on you since you two were little. If he’s as flirty with everyone as his father was at his age, I’m sure it wasn’t obvious that he treated you a bit differently.”

Kyoko blushed, surprised that Raidon’s own mother would tell her something that private.

“Oh, little Raidon used to be so cute about it too. He’d hand me flowers and told me they were a special present for Kyoko. He was so bold at only five. He even told me that the two of you were going to get married when he was a big boy,” Think said, giggling to herself.

“Mom,” Kyoko mumbled in embarrassment.

“One, I hate the information that has suddenly been divulged to me about my daughter. Two, my baby girl is not allowed to have a boyfriend, let alone marry Spark Plug Number Two. It’s loud enough around me with Denki as my friend,” Kyoko’s father grumbled.

Kyoko covered her face in embarrassment. There was no way that this could get any worse. Between being kidnapped by villains and Kyoko’s parents openly discussing her romantic life, she might have been having the poorest day of her life.

“Woah, Dad! Chill out. Those aren’t real tears, are they? Don’t you trust me? Of course, we’re okay,” Raidon piped up, clearly no longer a brainless idiot. He turned toward Kyoko, giving her a thumbs up. “I didn’t doubt us for a second, especially with Kyoko as my partner.”

“Oh, that’s it. You and I are going to have a long talk about your relationship with my daughter, young man,” Mindjack stated, rolling his hero costume sleeves up.

Raidon and Denki’s faces blanched. The two of them exchanged a look of concern. Kyoko grabbed onto her father’s capture weapon, trying to get him to stop.

“Hitoshi, you and I started our relationship around their age. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with Raidon. I think he’s a nice boy. You can’t be so strict with Kyoko either,” Think said.

“He’s a boy, Kitten. And, boys only have one thing on their minds at this age. My daughter will not be dating anyone until I’m so old I don’t know what age I am.”

“Dad, we’re not dating,” Kyoko choked out, wishing that she had an invisibility quirk.

“I just want to talk to him,” Mindjack said, looping his capture weapon around his hands.

“That doesn’t look like you just want to talk to him, Hitoshi,” Think stated plainly.

“I’m just going to talk to him,” he repeated.

“How did we go from panic searching for our kids, to this?” Earphone Jack asked.

“Hitoshi can get a little overprotective that’s all,” Think whispered.

“M-Mr. Shinso, I promise I do not have any ill-intentions toward your daughter,” Raidon stuttered out. His quirk sparking up.

“So, you don’t want to date my daughter?” Mindjack asked.

Raidon blushed, glancing toward Kyoko. “I, uh, I didn’t say that. I mean…” Raidon gulped.

Even Kyoko knew that wasn’t the right thing to say to her father. She slapped her palm against her forehead. Mindjack was visibly shaking. His hands clenched tighter around his binding cloth.

“Hitoshi,” Think warned, and Kyoko’s father froze. “The two of them have been through enough for one day. Please don’t scare the poor boy.”

Mindjack sighed, relaxing his muscles. “I know, Kitten. I just can’t help it.” Mindjack abruptly pointed at his eyes then at Raidon. “But, I’m still watching you.”

“Yes, sir,” Raidon said.

Mindjack turned around, grabbing his daughter by the hand. “You have been through enough. Let’s get you home.”

[hammieslice]

I got tagged by @onewhoturns !!

Rules: Tag 9 other people (tagged below)

Favorite color: Hmm... I like a lot of colors, and I kind of want to do combos? But most of them are shades of blue, purple, or yellow. Teal blue is a favorite though.

Currently reading: Nothing, ironically enough, haha. I have picked up The Witcher series though, so that’s something I want to start, and I have plans to re-read The Last Unicorn!

Last song: Breaking Out by The Protomen! I don’t. Usually listen to this kind of stuff, but it scratches a certain itch in my brain today.

Last series: I don’t. I don’t remember. I really want to just be a cop out and say The Magnus Archives because I’ve been trying to finish it, but I genuinely have no idea what the last TV show I watched was. Does bits of House M.D. from coming downstairs to talk to parents count?

Last movie: Encanto! I didn’t get through the whole thing, but the bits I did watch were very very pleasing. Unfortunately, it didn’t wow me like it wowed a lot of other people, but that might just be because it’s not up the alley for what my mood is right now.

Sweet, savory, or spicy: Savory and spicy! Savory first though.

Currently working on: Oh I have so many unfinished WIPs in my docs you have no idea. Uhh a good bit about my Warden from Dragon Age (Diego Amell), the Kaz/Darkling fic that’s still going, a bunch of stuff for discord roleplay servers, and some V/Takemura for Cyberpunk I started on a whim. Please ask me about things. Please.

Tagging! @starchemist @crychan @halfasleepheadcanons @starlit-bawka @systemsatellite @redjeliton @firekitten830 @twitchyglitchy @fish-harlan

[widowsofchaos]

The Wolf, The Widow, & Their Angel

Writing’s Game created by the baddest, Roo! @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ *screams like a feral banshee* tHe BaDDesT BiTcH sHE iS!

~my given prompt~

Pairing: dark!BuckyNat x black!Reader

Summary: You start to dissociate looking through windows, and it concerns your captors.

Warnings: ddlg relationship, forced age regression, mentions of spanking, water sports, and kidnapping, eventual Stockholm syndrome. a dash of yandere behavior.

a/n: hiii, so glad im finally into the swing of writing, and I really wanted to dive into this writing challenge made by Roo! Trope: Snowed In // Item/Location: Windows. Seems really fun, and gives a chance for people to explore different kinks and scenarios given to them! So I hope you enjoy! There has been things changed for sake of the story, like cause fuck canon sometimes, right? Muahaha💋

do not repost my works!

Snowflakes hit against the windows, sounding like tiny BB bullets as the bellowing winds harshly beats against the bullet-proof glass.

Ever-growing thick piles of snow surrounded the Avengers compound, as New York City is under attack by one of the worst snow-storms the city has ever endured in years.

Airports are temporarily shut-down, so are local businesses, the streets deserted with no sign of life. Nature’s cold wrath forces citizens to self-quarantine, and celebrate Christmas indoors, snowed in for perhaps a few weeks.

So much for your grand escape.

Six months you have been held captive, and forced to prance around like a living doll. A toy to satiate your captors’ sexual appetites and deep-rooted needs to protect ‘an innocent angel like yourself.’ As you sit here on the cold floor of the living room, battling boredom, and your solemn thoughts, mindlessly chewing on the pink paci in your mouth, you didn’t hear one of your captors and one of their accomplices walk in.

Fidgeting in your white onesie that had multiple crayon drawn rainbows printed on it, as you try to find some comfort - your buttocks still stung from this morning’s spanking. Your coco-brown buttocks peaking from your onesie, your diaper peaking from the edges, deep purple and yellow bruises painting your skin were apparent. That’s the abuse a metal prosthetic can inflict.

Your bronze skin now shiny with lotion to soothe the burgundy raw welts. You can barely sit still, rocking back and forth to relieve some tension. Sniffling trying to zone out in your mind.

Your hair was in two split curly pigtails, each split of massive hair clipped with two pink bows. Your index finger twirling in your chocolate curls, as the other hand was toying with the fabric of your white booties, with tears in your eyes, trying to imagine time spent with your real family.

Are they okay? Do they miss you? Have they been searching for you?

You can still recall the day you were kidnapped, it was a blur, it was so quick,

As the two perpetrators waltz silently towards you, as your back facing them, suddenly one of them playfully pull on your pigtails.You gasp, your eyes wide as saucers, as your mouth opened, your paci fell on your lap. Your day-dreaming shattered, as if you were high in the clouds then held by the calf and dragged right back to reality.

“Hey baby.” A husky velvety voice spoke against your ear, your heart hammering harshly against your chest. It’s him, the former Winter Soldier, his close companions call him Bucky, but you’re forced to call him daddy.

“Uncle Steve told me that you have been sitting here for hours” he brought his thumb to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize began to fall. You glanced over your shoulder to see Steve standing by the door-way smiling adoringly at the sight of a daddy and his baby, leaning against the door frame, with his strong hands stuffed in his jean pockets.

You felt menacing cerulean blue eyes burn a hole in your skull, Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away from yours even if he tried. To him, you were perfect. You were a gift from God, an angel sent to ease his burdens along side his wife, Natasha. You couldn’t bare looking into his eyes, too intense, too suffocating. A flash of affection beamed across his eyes.

You whined, shuffling as best as you could away from your captor, “Baby, you dropped your paci.” Bucky plucked your pacificer from the floor, bringing towards your chapped lips, “Now it’s dirty, my sweet baby can’t have a dirty paci ...” he trailed off, the rims of your eyes slightly red, glossy from the forthcoming droplets.

He knows why you’ve been crying, he had to punish you this morning. You were trying to act like a big girl, and refused to be bathed, insisting you can clean yourself as an adult.

A smirk slowly crept on Bucky’s bearded face, he noticed you was leaning forward, preventing any bodily pressure to increase on your sore ass. “Is my baby’s cute ass sore?” His nose brushed against your cheek, a guttural moan vibrated in his throat, inhaling your scent; his hot breath fanning over your tear-stained face.

His pink lips hairs away from yours, growing agitated that you didn’t respond, he gripped one of your pigtails with his flesh hand.

You yelped in pain, your button nose scrunched, brows furrowed deeply; the prickly pins and needles sensation scorching throughout your scalp, as Bucky held your hair in a death clutch. “Answer your daddy! Is my baby’s cute ass sore?!” Bucky snarls like a beast.

You choked back a sob, forced to look into his cerulean blue eyes, clouded by grey storm clouds. His pupils dilated, his nose flared, not to further infuriate the former soldier, “Ye-yes, daddy -” your throat tightened in fear, “my butt is sore.” Satisfied that you answered sweetly, Bucky relinquished his hand, kissing away your tears with feathery pecks, “Don’t cry, my angel.” His voice lowered softly.

His stubble tickled you, but you resisted a chuckle in your throat along with your untamed bile, he shushed you, “Don’t cry, baby. Daddy’s sorry he had to get loud.” Bucky cooed, talking to you like you were a toddler.

Your sobs quieted down, now simmering to hiccups, as he pulled you flushed against his broad chest. Even when he cradled you, his physicality reminded you, that you can’t escape.

Bucky is at least, two hundred pounds lean, built into massive biceps, and sculpted abs. You can’t fight him, nor her. Natasha’s physique is slender, but she’s toned.

Enquiped to defeat any enemy, a master in trickery and slealth, able to disappear within thin air like her husband ... many have fallen for sadly mistaken the Russian for beauty over brains ... don’t underestimate the former assassin. You already learned your lesson.

Your delicate fingers gripped his red Henley shirt, the cotton fiber bunching between your brown fingers, as you whimpered, your cheek squished against his frame.

Bucky sported a smug smirk on his stubbled jaw, glancing to his oldest best friend. A chuckle was breathed out of Steve’s nose, knowing the breaking down method was slowly progressing.

Steve knows that this is what Bucky, and Natasha needs in their life. Something innocent to protect, the couple hasn’t had a pure light in their life for years, so it’s understandable that for the first time they encountered you, they had to have you.

It was fate.

Indeed the meticulous harsh punishments was working. No matter how hard you tried to fight back, and resist the urges to succumb to their sexual pleasures, your mind was betraying you.

There has been moments of your compliance, calling everyone by their designated names. Natasha as your mommy, Bucky as your daddy, and the rest of the Avengers as your uncles and aunt. Letting your uncles and aunt baby you, feed you, play with you, and punish you if needed too.

Let’s just say, the punishments were just as equally barbarous. Wall-seats, harsh spanking, knees on raw rice, gas lighting, slight choking, knees resting on raw rice, electrical nipple clamps as your head will be dunked in water, that’s Bucky’s go-to if his patience runs dry.

And a few slaps here and there if you cuss everybody out.

Natasha’s favorite is clit cream, it causes severe itching on your pussy, you would rub your mound on any solid surface to relieve yourself to the point of your vagina being raw, and irritated.

How does the sadistic couple help the itching and burning stop? Take turns squirting their piss directly on your clit.

Shame and humiliation has become your constant demons.

Bucky’s red shirt had a strong but subtle smell of mint, and oak. You rubbed your nose into the shirt, it’s calming your frightened senses, as numerous flashbacks of pain came flooding your shattered mind.

“Awh my baby, loves holding her daddy.” Bucky spoke into your brushed curls, you didn’t realize you were practically clinging to Bucky like a baby kola. Bucky nuzzled his nose into your curls, his eyes closed, relishing in this rare moment.

Bucky’s strong biceps slithered around your petite waist, you involuntarily clutching your arms around his neck for support. His open palms calmly rubbed circles under your thighs, but close to your painful bruises.

You flinch at the close proximity of his fingertips grazing your abused flesh. It was his reminder of how quickly his temper can switch.

Don’t misbehave.

You prefer to seek his approval, to fall on his good graces. 

“D-daddy?” you crooked into his now tear-stained shirt, the dampened spots now a deeper shade of red, you sniffled, scared to look him in the eye, “Yes baby?” Bucky’s smirked.

“I wanna look at the windows more. The snowflakes are pretty.” You hated how your voice was trembling, and trailing into little space.

You’re conversing with Bucky as if you were a toddler. One discovery you stumbled on during this ordeal is that deep inside the crevasse of your mind, there’s a little girl.

Sub-space, or little space ... you knew you had it, which in turn, helped you adapt to your new environment from time to time. Catching yourself enjoying being pampered, no longer being burdened by of the problems that come with being an adult. No longer do you work, you hated your office job. You gracefully fall into a space of hazy clouds.

Bucky’s brows furrowed, a bit befuddled, as his eyes pleaded with Steve’s, who in return shook his head, no.

Steve brought this new found habit of yours up to Bucky and Natasha earlier, whenever you were punished, you hide away to look out the windows.

Steve realized that you were probably dissociating. That worried everybody, it means you were suffering from not accepting your new life, clinging onto your old one, and if you’re in pain, Bucky and Natasha are in pain.

You’re more than their little girl, you’re their missing third. Their companion, their angel, and even if you rebuke it, your best friends. Many occurrences, Nat and Bucky has confided to you about their dark pasts, revealing secrets not even their close team mates are aware of.

To gain your trust, and your sympathy, to show despite their cruel punishments, they are broken humans emotionally dependent on you. In any bond between lovers, that’s your best friend.

Out of love — tough love, but love nonetheless.

Bucky’s lip formed into a thin-line, “No, baby. Uncle Steve told me you do this a lot, you know he’s worried about you? So is everybody else, you haven’t even eaten since this morning” Bucky’s voice got stern, but it was contrast to his facial features softening. His brows now slanted in-ward, demonstrating his distress.

It’s the truth, you’re co-dependent on bullet-proof glass. You can observe the outside world. It helps you escape to your imaginary getaway. Whatever your heart desires, your brain creates unabashed scenarios of being surrounded by your family, and friends.

But more recently, you imagine poppy fields, sleeping in high-end stocks of flowers — but soon the demons roam in search of you, and the sky darkens.

“No, baby. No more windows. Ever again.” Bucky’s eyes squinted, you gasped. You were ready to beg, plead to stay on the floor just a little while longer, “Now it’s lunch time. I can hear my little angel’s tummy growling.” Bucky patted your belly gingerly, with no hesitation, he scooped you in his arms lifting you in the air.

Instinctively you locked your legs around his waist, your eyes never wavered from the frosty chilled windows. Your body began shaking, choking back pitiful sobs, as you ducked your head in Bucky’s neck.

“Maybe she needs a nap, she’s been crying all day.” Steve recalls hearing you sniffle since this morning, after getting a spanking. Bucky’s thumb rubbed circles into your shoulder blades, cooing you to settle down.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Bucky kissed your scalp, “she’ll feel better when she wakes up.” As the two soldiers discussed about you as if you weren’t present, you just went limp, your legs dangling. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s inhuman strength, you would’ve fallen.

What’s the point in fighting anymore? Your body is worn, and your brain is fried. There’s no escape, for years you thought so highly of the Avengers, but you learned that they were not so righteous.

Steve noticed your eyes were dull, it’s blank. Steve subtly caressed your cheek, as he walked by Bucky’s side. A small lopsided smile curved at your lips, but Steve was still worried.

Finally reaching Bucky’s apartment, Steve helped open the door as Bucky was pre-occupied holding you, “Steve, can you wash her pacifier for me?” Steve nodded, taking the pacifier from Bucky.

As Steve reached the kitchenette, to wash the paci in the sink, Bucky went to your bedroom. A custom made state of the art bedroom, the walls covered in white wallpaper with multiple printed teddy bears. Fuzzy pink carpeting, stuffies galore spilling out of the bin, toys ranging from blocks, puzzles, coloring books, barbies -- you name it, they spoiled you.

Bucky cooed in your ear sweetly as he laid you down in your custom crib, the plush mattress welcomed your body. You whined a bit, a few tears falling, “Hush, baby, it’s okay. Uncle Stevie is bringing your paci.” Bucky caressed your arms, and face trying to cal, your nerves.

Your eyes were droopy, mental exhaustion overpowering you, but you were resisting sleep. You started rubbing your eyes, as if you were a restless toddler refusing naptime. 

Bucky and Natasha also has been popping sleeping pills, bladder weakening pills and birth control pills in your milk. To set your body on schedule, so you can learn to adapt using a diaper. Fall sleep at proper time during the day. 

Steve entered the bedroom, to see Bucky trying to stop you from your agitated state. “She’s fussy.”Steve’s tone was laced with concern, he quickly gave Bucky the paci, and you shut your mouth. “It’s okay, baby. It’s your paci, say ah.” Bucky was trying to persuade you, you hated that you were becoming dependent on it.

You pouted, Bucky sighed. Once again, he had to resort doing it the hard way. Bucky pinched your nose shut, preventing any oxygen, after a few seconds, you had no choice, but to open your mouth for air.

You gasped, and Bucky took advantage, quickly popping the paci in your mouth, shutting your mouth with his palms. You whined, as Bucky kissed your forehead. Bucky tucked you in, “I love you, angel.” With that Bucky and Steve started leaving the room, turning the light switch off, and closed the door behind them.

Darkness and silence looming over you, your eyes drooped shut, drifting into a dreamless slumber.

***

It’s been over an hour of naptime, and finally Natasha returned from training. She entered the apartment to see Bucky sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. “Bucky, what’s wrong?” He lifted his gaze up, and Nat saw tears in his eyes.

Nat dashed to her husband’s aid, sitting next to him on the couch. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Nat was growing increasingly worried, “Our angel hates me.” Bucky croaked, his voice was hoarse. Natasha pulled Bucky into her arms, Bucky sniffled as he sunk himself into her chest.

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s still learning.”

“You didn’t see the fear in her eyes today. Her eyes looked dull, as if she wasn’t there. Even Steve saw it.” Bucky wailed in Nat’s arms. “It’s okay, she’s not broken. It’s not a quick procedure to get our angel. She will realize this is what’s good for her.”

“I just want her to be happy with us.”

“I know, Bucky. Me too.” Natasha kissed his head.

What Natasha didn’t realize was that you heard their conversation, as you awoke from your nap.

***

Was life with these people really that hard? They spoil you to no end. Yes, their choice of punishments aren’t ordeal, but after punishments they soothed you as if you were the most fragile treasure in the world. Can you learn to love them? Perhaps. Do you feel bad for them hurting? A little, and that’s what scares you.

You care, and it’s been bothering you.

For weeks, your hatred towards the Avengers has been simmering down. You did enjoy no longer having responsibilities, enjoying little space, you were slipping into the headspace more and more.

As thoughts were swirling in your mind like angry bees, the door opened, you quickly closed your eyes again. The light turned on, and their footsteps sounded quiet, not wanting to disturb your sleep, towards your massive crib.

Natasha and Bucky were hovering over you, watching you sleep, as if it’s their favorite view. So obsessed with you, vowing to kill anyone who will try to take you away from them.

Both Nat, and Bucky brought their fingers to your face, caressing your tear-stained cheeks. It was like this for a few moments, until they slowly shook you awake. Tenderly they coaxed you awake, your eyelids fluttered open.

“Hey pretty girl, time to wake up.” Natasha softly ruffled your curly ponytails. You don’t know what snapped in you, maybe your brain has given up, or maybe it’s the way these two are affectionately staring down at you.

Beyond the misty darkness that clouds their eyes, is love. Moments of good moments of playtime with them, or how they touched you giving you cummies, your body coming alive to their touch, or how your heart ached at their sadness flashed in your mind.

Maybe you do love them.

“Mommy. Daddy.” You mumbled against your paci, you made grabby hands outward to them. Natasha’s and Bucky’s eyes widened, their breaths hitched in their throats. At last, their little girl wants them - on her accord.

Natasha quickly took you out of the crib, holding you in her arms in an air tight hug. Bucky engulfed both of you in a bear hug.

At last.

***

It’s been a few weeks of you being the perfect angel, and quite frankly, you were happy. Stress of freedom slipped away, you were taken cared off. Adulthood was hard on you until Natasha and Bucky took you. It was unorthodox at first, slipping into your old apartment in the dead of the night, but it was worth it.

You were sitting on Bucky’s lap, as he sat on the couch watching cartoons with you. Your back against his chest, Bucky hugging you in his arms, your arm reaching behind his head, as your hand played with his hair. Bucky melts every-time you do that. You were sucking on your paci, and Natasha was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

The peaceful atmosphere was soon disrupted, as an urgent news broadcast flashed on the screen. You whined, and Bucky started looking for the remote to change the channel.

The broadcast flashed a picture of you, explaining that you were still declared missing, and your family was looking for you. Bucky’s whole body froze, as your silence was making him nervous. Natasha slowly peaked her head out from the kitchen.

You were unfazed, but you’re not dumb. You knew you had to reassure them, “Daddy, change the channel! I want cartoons.” You bounced a bit on his lap, to show your bratty impatience. Bucky picked up the remote, and put cartoon network on.

Both Nat’s, and Bucky’s heart fluttered, you didn’t care about your old life anymore. You took your paci out for a moment, and kissed your daddy. “I love you, daddy.” You put the paci back in your mouth, and watched the cartoons.

Bucky had tears in his eyes, and so did Natasha.

Their angel didn’t hate them, their angel loves them, and they love you.

Extra A/N: sorry that this was trash. This was beyond trash, I’m so sorry! This was rushed, and I’m bothered by it.